#i like the idea of the position of the boys' quills having a part to play in showing their emotions

[buttelf]

this is a comic based on a sonadow drabble written by (and a gift for) @viacursecasting​ :) 

this was my first time making a comic and im still learning how to draw sonic and shadow consistently, so pls forgive that :) thank you to viacursecasting for letting me post this! enjoy!

[itsgrimeytime]

Magnolia in May (Part Seven) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @belaballs

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: kinda anti-Lori, misunderstandings, a marriage of convenience, and mentions of loneliness.

[[A/N: girllllll, not another Magnolia in May chapter!!! Whoops. And actually tagging bestie @imaginemyfavoritefics properly this time, bc I did use the idea of Daryl as the courier. Unrelated but this gif of him clenching his jaw... girl. Thanks for reading !! ]]

You'd taken to writing letters -the gentle swish of your quill was calming the storm of your mind. Originally, you had garnered a sort of cold from the walk in the rain and had to heal -now, you'd stayed holed up of your own accord.

'Nonsense, darling,' Headmistress had said, fluffing up your pillows, '-you must heal from a broken heart like any other wound.'

It was fewer letters and more of a sort of journal -only for your eyes to see but sometimes addressed to someone other than yourself. It started simply with one occasionally to Maggie to make her smile, or Beth to tell her things you'd learned so she wouldn't have to, or to remind Father to eat a meal when he'd been so focused on a patient that he'd neglect himself. But then, Mr. Grimes started appearing at the header.

You couldn't remember the first time it had happened, days rather blurred after that day -especially since you were treated shortly after. And rest was all you'd really gotten then, it made the passage of time blurry.

But it became something you were rather dependent on.

'Mr. Grimes,' you wrote in the first of its kind, quill rather fluid at this stage.

'I met your wife, Lori. She's a wonderful woman, kind and perfectly poised. I would, in a different life, maybe be friends with her -seems the type to be good company. Was it always her?

You've got something special, a family with beautiful children. It's every man's dream, is it not? You were my dream. I find it a bit hard to believe she would leave that dream behind. For what is more powerful than one's love for their child? I suppose there were other circumstances that I shall never be aware of. I would've liked to have known why. I understand it's a rather personal thing, but I should be urged to hear something of the full story. I might deserve it.

But I suppose you deserve a full family more. Carl and Judith do. I wouldn't fit in. I would love the best for them, despite not having known Carl, he seems a bright boy. Deserves much of the best in life, I'd garner all children do.

I often wonder if I am to have children. I suppose I could ask you for advice one day, if so. But there's something in me that speaks differently. Like that path with you is gone. Maybe I should run off to the city and write away, become focused on my education. Pay for my father's living, and house my sister's 'til they're wed.

I don't think I could, with good conscience, leave Alexandria. I'm far too fond of the people the town, its where I grew up. And I suppose, to keep my father's clinic running under the family name I may marry. I'm not too sure that I'd marry for love, per say. Can you begin the fall in love more than once? Is it possible? And furthermore, although it is something I wish for, I'm not sure that I would like to bring children into a loveless marriage.

This is getting far too detailed of my own troubles, and for that I apologize.

I truly wish your family well. Even if there's no room for me.

Yours Sincerely,

Y/N Greene'

It was a positive experience, mostly. The smearing on that letter particularly wasn't of cathartic tears. Not quite a release of the emotions dying so tightly within your soul, it was rather grief. Loss of a life that you'd never have. Despite it being the one you desperately wanted.

You sighed, stashing away the paper with the other ones -the second desk drawer to the right, under the math textbook that had been gathering dust even before you were born.

Sure, it messed your hands, but you found it was a small price to be paid for secrecy.

"Y/N, dearest," your Headmistress hummed -voice pounding up the stairs, "-get dressed and meet me at the door in 10, will you?"

"Yes, Headmistress," you echoed, off to your feet and only touching up ever-so-slightly by the mirror. And in your rush, maybe you had forgotten to shut the drawer -you couldn't know now. It stayed open, and the telling corner of dustless papers under a dusty book was certainly one to ponder over.

At least for someone, it was.

You wouldn't know what had occurred until a few weeks later, as you sorted out your joint closet with Maggie. Gathering bows and ribbons, and straightening dresses, was a wonderful way to pass time -since your newest book was seeming to be tucked away in the carriage. You truly could not find it anywhere-

And then, there was a knock at the door.

Now, normally, this was of no notice -either for Maggie (who had gone on frequent outings with Mr. Rhee since the ball) or Father (ranging anywhere from an old friend to an urgent patient). But this was one to put a pause in your mind.

Maggie was, in fact, out -you remembered the shimmer of the carriage as it pulled away, and Father was rushed off for an emergency. And even further, Headmistress and Beth had gone out to a sort of gathering -some sort of tea party, you'd assumed. (They'd invited you, but you'd truly not wished to hear the gossip. Especially not now.)

You stilled, you were alone here then.

Well, you considered -making your way down the steps, -could be a sort of delivery. Ms. Elisa did frequently speak with friends out of town -often through letters. And Father always had an extra copy of cases delivered to his home -so he could think properly on an issue.

Satisfied with that, you approached the door with newfound confidence -fear that had stubbornly stuck there was unfounded. You twisted a bit of fabric in your dress, just to do something with your hands before swinging open the door.

And, it was a familiar face. Not one you had a name to, but one you knew -the courier.

"Ms. Greene," he spoke, his voice gruff and tired, much less peppy than you'd seen him before, "-I assume?"

"Yes," you answered cautiously, "-I'm the eldest Ms. Greene, why? If you're looking for Maggie-"

"No," he answered, simply, long hair moving with the motion of his head, "-Mr. Grimes requested this be given to you, the eldest."

"I can't acce-" you started but fell shut as a letter was extended to you -two letters. One a familiar sort of coffee-tinged brown -paper old and weary, you could hardly believe the quill hadn't punctured right through really. And the other, neatly folded, a pristine sort of ivory, and dark ink that somehow didn't seem to smudge at all. On the side that was exposed to you was written: Ms. Y/N Greene, in handwriting you recognized.

The one that had scribbled across the invitation so long ago-

"Who are you?" you questioned -eagerly bringing the letters close to your chest, "-And how did you get my letter? Have you been in my home-"

"Ms. Greene," he spoke -composed and calm, unmoved by your pressing questions, "-they were presented to me to mail weeks ago."

You froze, something heavy dropping in your stomach, "They? How... How many letters were you given to post?"

"A stack, no more than 10," he responded, "-the youngest Ms. Greene, opened the door for me once to deliver an invitation. The same one I 'ave been for weeks- It ain't relevant, really. She knew where I came from, and requested I bring 'em to Mr. Grimes immediately."

You paused, "An invitation?"

"More like a summonin'," he clarified, rather poised but still somewhat a bit casual, "-it's always the same request for you, the eldest, to attend to the Grimes estate."

"What?"

He paused, "It's supposed to be brought to ya, upon retrieval but... I'd guess it hasn't."

"You've-" you exhaled -a deep uncertain exhale, "-Just how long have you been delivering these?"

"Lost count."

"And-" you stuttered, a bit overwhelmed, "-and the letters, my letters they-"

"I put 'em in his hand, myself," he spoke -an ordered sort of discipline heavy in his tone with a dose of familiar twang.

"Right," you swallowed -pushing down the nerves biting up your throat at such rampant pace, he was never to see those, "-and who are you exactly?"

"Grimes estate courier," he grumbled out, a some of bitterness gathered there.

"No, no," you quirked a brow at him, "-your name? I figured as much otherwise."

He answered, rather improperly -as if he was trained in some ways and ignorant in others just slightly, "-Daryl Dixon."

"Mr. Dixon," you echoed, a sort of curiosity in your tone, "-you said he received the full stack, did he not?"

He merely nodded.

"Well, why do I only have one, then?"

The man pondered it for a second, loosely eyeing the way you held the letters like he knew what they contained (maybe he did), "I suppose he ain't done replyin' to the others."

The rest of the interaction was fairly polite, mere questions about his work -to which he complained quite vividly about the extent of it, but never shred a wrong light on Mr. Grimes. You'd gathered they were well-acquainted, even perhaps friends from youth, but you couldn't exactly pinpoint it. He didn't say anything directly, and was rather quiet around details. Well, details pertaining to Mr. Grimes, you supposed.

You'd initially wanted to search for the invitations he spoke of, but something bigger was biting you.

Your hands were quick to rush to the drawer, pulling it open -to suddenly believe it was not real. To prove that all of this was a farce, that the letters were still safely kept. But, when you opened it, you could tell.

Even still, you pushed forward holding up the book, peering underneath. It was empty, extraordinarily empty.

"No, no, no-" you urged, heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach -heavy, "-it can't be..."

Private pieces of you, of your sadness, your longing- Sent to the married man of the header.

And just back as you pushed back in your chair, the brush of tears only a breath away -your eyes caught on the letter.

It was not yours.

Yours sat just beside it, you recognized it to be the first one -all sort of crumpled and agonizingly smudged. All conflicted feelings and harsh realities buzzing under your skin. You'd written it partially under the delirium of your illness, so it was rather brash but you'd never thought you'd need to worry about it. The only thing different was how it was presented.

You remember hastily shoving it away, between book covers, under table legs, hidden in the dirt of the garden, as you tried to find a good place to stash them. You'd always been so quick to put them away, to get out the feelings and move on-

Looking at it now, though, the worn paper was smoothed out (to the best it could be) and perfectly folded. Each corner matched to another and creases were indented lightly so as to not damage the written word. It was treated as precious. Something... Something he'd rather cared for.

Something told you then to get rid of it, to throw it onto the fire when no one was looking, to stash it away, to never read it no matter the cost because you were doing the right thing and should not be swayed-

But another part of you was dreadfully curious. And dreadfully grieving the loss of a man who still lived.

It was your mail, a letter addressed to you. Wouldn't it be rather rude to not read it? If you hadn't wished the first one to be mailed, you retorted, then no.

And yet, you found yourself picking up the note with the gentlest of graces. Carefully unfolding the thick paper, slowly, timidly, like the words would jump off the page. Like they could hurt you.

You supposed they could.

Once fully opened, you didn't directly focus on the words -instead, detailing the printed bits around the top edges. It looked as though this was an official sort of paper -the same kind an invitation may be extended to. As well as a family seal printed into the bottom right corner, it seemed a little formal for the occasion but you found it didn't bother you. Not really.

Taking a deep breath, you blinked your eyes -wishing to calm your heart, even just for a moment, and started reading.

'Ms. Greene,' it started, letters crisply written in a thin but precise sort of writing. Your finger naturally went to trace over them, dotting the i's and swirling the g's.

'I must first say that it's to my understanding that these letters are rather personal to you. You weren't the one who intended to mail them, I've come to know. I know that this then, by proxy, is a large invasion of your privacy.

And I can only hope you forgive me for such a thing. Because this is my sort of last resort to reach you. I'm sure you're familiar with the invitations that have flooded your door, and although, I understand the no response for what you know, I've become quite desperate.

To be completely clear, I was nearly on my horse to your home the morning these letters arrived. To explain everything as you deserve it to be explained.

I instead am here, writing letters. I cannot tell if that's any sort of better than my original plan was but it is the decision I chose.

In terms of Lori, the situation is rather complicated. Surely, at the young age we married, she was the plan. I'd honestly not given thought to the fact that she'd ever come back. I knew her reasons, and I fully doubted I'd ever see her again. And out of respect for you, I wish for the full story to be in person.

Despite all that, I truly wished she would. I know I did. If not only to see our children, to grace me with some sort of company.

I lived a rather lonely life before you Ms. Greene. Which may seem a bit arbitrary coming from a man with a staff, but it doesn't make it any less the truth. When she left, it was quite the scandal. I never spoke a word on it, too devastated to even imagine what to say. It meant much more reclusion, even from friends I knew from youth. And then, as I'm sure you're familiar, I decided to move back to Alexandria. Atlanta only harbored negative things, and I wished for someplace more pleasant. And it was, but still despite it all, the loneliness persisted.

So this family, this full family, you speak of, it's not what Lori and I would be. It wasn't what we were when we were married. I love my children, beyond belief, but I was still lonely. And I can't imagine a full family has a lonely father.

Frankly, Ms. Greene, I was lonely until that day in the marketplace.

And on the off chance you don't understand what I mean, I ask, from the depths of my heart, don't leave Alexandria.

Yours,

Richard Grimes'

[panandinpain0]

yooOOO wassup itsame mango- could I req a ron x hermione’s slightly younger ravenclaw brother fic? I just wanna know what you’d think of it 🧍‍♂️ cool ok bye 🏃‍♂️💨

Under the Willow Tree

Oh my god yes- I've been wanting to write more Harry Potter fics so this is wonderful.

Did you have an idea of any plot you want me to follow or something like that?

I'll give you a little snippet here and maybe more later- we love you mango <3

(please let me know if you want more of this because I will gladly oblige)

@@@

Requested by: @mailmango

Ron Weasley x Male!Ravenclaw!Granger!Reader

(I'm so excited to write for Ron-)

---

There was this willow tree in the courtyard- not the Womping Willow, the violent tree that protected not only a shabby house but also secrets. This willow was planted by Professor Sprout and some of her Muggleborn and Half-Blood friends when she was a student at Hogwarts. She had always loved learning about Muggle plants and helped them plant it, and now it was huge and glorious.

This was (Y/N)'s favorite tree.

So there he sat, books splayed out about him, a quill and paper in his hand. He'd decided to take Ancient Runes this year, his sister Hermione greatly influencing this decision. She had thought it would challenge him in just the way he needed, and she was right.

It was extremely difficult, to say the least.

Brows creased and eyes focused on the parchment he had placed on a book for a smooth surface, (Y/N) tapped his lip with the end of his quill- completely oblivious to the group approaching him.

"Hey (Y/N), heads up!" Hermione shouted, tossing an apple at the distracted boy as she got closer.

Caught off guard, (Y/N) gasped and looked up, only to be hit in the face with an apple.

Hermione and Ron cringed while Harry laughed, the trio sitting around the books on the grass.

"Ow," (Y/N) somewhat joked, picking up the apple and taking a bite.

"Sorry," Hermione chuckled, picking up a book and skimming a paragraph. "Ancient Runes?"

"Yup," (Y/N) responded, popping the 'p'. "Why'd I let you convince me to take this class?"

"Because you'd breeze through all the other electives and you know it," Hermione answered with a smug look on her face, snatching (Y/N)'s parchment to look it over.

"Hey- I was working on that!"

"Ahh, just let her. You need a break anyways," Harry replied, playing with his wand as he observed the students around the courtyard.

"I did this last year, maybe I can help," Hermione added, snatching the quill from his hand and making adjustments.

(Y/N) huffed a dramatic breath before turning to Ron, who'd been silent.

"Hello Ron, how's your day been?" he smiled up at him, seeing as he was still standing.

Ron realized the awkward position and sat down against the tree with (Y/N).

"It's been alright, yours?"

(Y/N) shrugged, "It could be going worse. This Runes paper is the worst part about it so far."

Suddenly Harry perked up, gaze trained on something across the courtyard.

"I'll see you guys later!" He suddenly jumped up and ran off, tucking his wand into the pocket of his billowing cloak.

"Harry? Wait!" Hermione shouted, dropping the parchment and quill and following after him. She continued to shout things but (Y/N) and Ron could no longer make them out.

Shaking his head in amusement (Y/N) picked up the things Hermione had dropped before looking at Ron.

"You aren't going to follow them?"

"Nah, they've been running this way and that all day. I'd rather just stay here." Ron laughed at the end of his response, turning to look into (Y/N)'s eyes.

"What's going on with them, do you think?" (Y/N) questioned, pretending not to notice the limited space between Ron and himself as he returned Ron's stare.

"When is something not going on with them?" Ron bantered back, just now noticing how small the space between them had become. He cleared his throat and turned away, not seeing (Y/N)'s disappointed stare.

Picking up a nearby book Ron tried to make small talk.

"So, Runes, eh? I'm so glad I never took that class..." he trailed off with a nervous chuckle.

"Are we seriously not going to talk about it?" (Y/N) asked sternly, a serious look on his face.

Ron gulped and tried to ignore the heat in his face, avoiding eye contact with (Y/N).

"Talk about what?" he weakly mumbled back.

"The kiss, Ron. Are we seriously not going to talk about how we kissed and we still haven't done anything about it?" he desperately asked, beginning to look a bit sad.

"Well, what do you want to do about it?" Ron asked gently, fearing the rejection he was still so positive was coming- no matter how much (Y/N) seemed to want the same thing as him.

(Y/N) took in a deep breath, looking thoughtful. Then he cleared his throat and turned to Ron with a newfound determination.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me? As my date?" He felt like he had to be specific for Ron to get it.

Ron looked shocked, and felt bad that he hadn't been the one to ask.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Unless you don't want to, which in that case- pretend I never said anything-"

"No- I want to!"

They shared a smile with warm cheeks and racing hearts.

"Does this mean you're my boyfriend?" Ron asked nervously as he looked at the grass, like he was a second year all over again, even though it's been four years since he actually was one.

"I'd love to be, but if you're still unsure we can just see how Hogsmeade goes..." (Y/N) hesitantly replied, tenderly slipping his fingers between Ron's on the grass.

Ron flipped his and over to hold (Y/N)'s hand properly and met his gaze, "I'd like that."

---

So like I said, just a snippet, but please let me know if you want more!

Hope you enjoyed mango <3

-Author Max <3

[writingontheclouds]

Chapter 4: How To Finally Get the Girl

The finale of my fic "How You Get The Girl" that I started in 2019 when I was a wee fresher in college. It is finally over. *phew* I hope this story stops haunting me now.

Read it on AO3.

...

The clock in her room read 7:39pm when Lily watched Isis disappear into the horizon, soaring higher and higher above the identical houses of Cokeworth.

She wasn't sure which part of her brain was working overtime when she thought of sending a letter through Isis. Or when she thought of the idea. She just remembers Sirius holding her by her shoulders and shaking with excitement at the idea as he exited her room and her house and disapparated from her front yard with a distinct pop.

She should have checked around if anyone saw him disappear. She should have berated him for being so careless in a muggle neighbourhood, *her* neighbourhood, as he apparated back at the same position exactly 12 minutes later with a grey owl sitting gleefully on her shoulder, playing with his black hair. But words suddenly seemed foreign to her.

Despite her newly found resolve and the shadow of a black haired boy peaking behind her shoulder, she had hesitated. Multiple times. Her quill broke twice. Isis fluttered around her room from her bed to the shelves. Sirius paced the small length of her bedroom muttering, "Good god woman, you don't have be Shakespeare."

She couldn't shake the guilt looming in her stomach, making her nauseous. *What if he truly has moved on?*

Sirius had been ecstatic, almost jumping off the walls of her bedroom as Isis flew out her window. "He's going to come as soon as he gets it, I promise."

Lily knew Isis was pretty fast, even for a magical owl. And after conveying her urgency in getting the letter delivered as soon as possible, Lily was almost sure she saw Isis' eyes become determined. She loved a challenge, that feisty little thing. Lily promised her an entire box of her favourite treats and off she flew, feathers fluttering to an inch of her face.

Her mother came in announcing dinner just 10 minutes later, asking Sirius to join them. 30 minutes and multiple pointless conversations later, she was ready to stab herself in the thigh with a fork.

"So there is actually a magical giant squid that lives in the lake at Hogwarts?" Her mother asked, absolutely aghast.

"Oh yes, my mate James and I arm wrestled one of his tentacles last year," Sirius responded as-a-matter-of-fact. Even Petunia, whose usual response to any time Hogwarts came up on the dinner table was a scowl, looked shocked.

"You what?" Her mother asked, looking at her for confirmation.

"They did," Lily told her mother nonchalantly, moving the contents of her plate from one corner to another, "Though they mostly just annoyed it. It got bored and dumped them on the shore and went back inside."

Almost an hour later, she couldn't take it anymore and went outside for fresh air. Surely Isis must have reached James by now? He was in the middle of London, not a cave up in the mountains.

It was 10pm when Sirius joined her outside on the front yard, after relaying some more Hogwarts stories to her mother.

"Maybe Isis is having a hard time finding him," He said softly, sitting down next to her on the grass. She just hummed in response, her heart hammering against her chest.

By 11pm, even Sirius seemed to have ran out of reasons. Isis should have reached James by now. Hell, she would have reached London by now if she had taken the train. And she was a witch. If only she knew where to go IN London. She could have just run around Leicester Square screaming his name like a deranged pelican.

At 11:58pm, a sudden movement caught the corner of her eye and before she knew it, a grey feathered blob landed directly in front of them. Isis looked ecstatic and proud. And as happy as Lily was to see her, her excitement lasted for 2 seconds exactly until she noticed the empty talon.

Her heart sank into her stomach. The answer was staring right in her face.

"Lily, maybe he got stuck-"

"Don't." Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her vision started to blur. Sirius wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she hid her face in his shoulder. “Don’t."

"I'm sorry."

---

It took a very long time to convince Sirius that she was fine. Or, it took a very long time to tell a convincing lie to Sirius that she was fine. But he finally departed around 1am, with a promise to take her out for ice cream the next day to cheer her up.

She had already planned not to leave her bed for the next 3 days, to sleep as much as she could and to be awake as less as she could help it. But unfortunately, the world seemed adamant to not let her have her way, because despite her plans to be unconscious, but she was still wide awake at 2:30am.

Lily rolled over for the hundredth time, facing the pink wall of her bedroom and closed her eyes. She tried to go to her happy place, back to Hogwarts and its hallways and her friends, when a light tap sounded behind her. At first, she thought she had imagined it, the silence of the night deafening her and playing tricks on her mind. But the tap happened again, and again, and that's when her heart sank and her mind took a much darker turn.

She had heard of the rumours of muggle borns and the news of the 'disappearances', and suddenly, each name she had read in the newspapers flashed at the back of her head as she grabbed her wand, remembering every hex in the books. Tomorrow, she was sure, her name would be added to that never ending list. She slowly pulled the curtain above her desk to peak out at the offending noise.

But there, floating right outside the window in the middle of the night, was a boy holding a lit wand with a goofy grin. A grin she unfortunately knew way too well.

"POTTER!" she whispered angrily, half on instinct, but the sound wouldn't reach him. She put her wand aside and slid the window open.

"Potter! What in Merlin's pants are you doing?" she hissed, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the wind.

"You are floating outside my window," she stated, still processing the sight before her.

"Yes, I'm on my broom," he replied nonchalantly.

"You are floating outside my window on a broom," she repeated, her tone incredulous.

"Great observation skills, Evans," he remarked, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips.

"You are FLOATING outside my window IN A MUGGLE NEIGHBOURHOOD on a BROOM.”

"Oh. Yes. That. Uhh," he stuttered, looking around nervously, "Can I come in?"

"Can it not wait till tomorrow?"

"I would highly prefer today.”

"Today, right now? As opposed to today noon at Diagon Alley with butterbeer?"

"Today, right now.”

She sighed impatiently, backing up and gesturing him to come inside. While James was ambling his frame into her very small window, knocking down books and pencil stands as he came inside, alarm bells were ringing in her head.

"SHHH!" She shushed him, and he stopped for a second before continuing to get his other leg inside the window and pas her study table.

Bollocks. He was here. The reality of the situation was settling in now. What did he want to talk about? Did he want to apologise? Tell her thank you, but no thank you?

She glanced down at her worn out blue pyjama set, deciding she didn't care how she looked. Even if it wasn't, she wasn't going to change to be let down. How pathetic would that be?

"Cute room, Evans." He said once he had manoeuvred his broom inside her room and started inspecting everything.

"You better have a very good reason for this, Potter."

He just looked at her bemused, eyebrows raised, reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment.

"Oh, I have a very very good reason, Evans."

"Look-"

"Oh no, here is where I will talk and you will listen." That shut her up real quick.

"So, I was sitting in this quaint little restaurant in the middle of muggle London, on a date with this wonderful girl. She's pretty, funny and she loves Quidditch- and guess what?- she supports Puddlemere, I was sold by then and the date had hardly started. She's a splendid conversationalist, did you know? We didn't have any of those awful awkward silences, those are always a deal breaker for me. So we laughed all through the main course-"

"-I'm going to toss you out the window if you've come here to tell me about your new girlfriend-"

"-I swear the manager wanted to throw us out of there-"

"-You have Sirius to discuss the nitty gritties about your dates-"

"-and we were waiting for desert, when I look out the window and to my surprise, I see Isis there."

He looked right in her eyes, and Lily was sure he could see the blush colouring her cheeks despite the low light in the room. Hell, he could have spotted it from a mile away on his broom at this point.

He took a step in her direction, and she instinctively look a step back.

"Yes, Isis with a letter. She singlehandedly unleashed havoc in the restaurant, you should have been there, there was spaghetti flying around and people were slipping on spilled pasta sauce, all for a letter. Clearly, someone asked her to deliver it urgently.”

"Now, you must know how that scared the living daylights out of me, because what could be so important that couldn't till the end of the night? It's a difficult time in our world, you know," James Potter continued babbling animately, his usual self, but Lily's heart was threatening to beat out of her chest, matching James steps, as he continued to step closer to her and she continued to backtrack.

"So, we ran out the restaurant before we were arrested, though what for I still have no idea, but I must be completely pale and speaking gibberish because Emily said she couldn't understand what I said, and frankly neither could I."

"So, with trembling hands, I opened the letter, a million different worse case scenarios playing in my head, and can you guess what it said?" He asked, holding open the parchment and Lily could make out her hasty scrawl.

"Uhh.." Lily's back hit the door to her room and she realised she had nowhere to go now.

"It was from this rather infuriating bird, with bright red hair and a temper to level the entire city of London, who does not lose a single chance to wound my ego, who has spent the last 6 years hating me and my guts, and if that was not enough, for some weird reason I've fancied all that time?"

"Now, I had imagined this particular scenario many times in my head. My personal favorite ending in passionate and wild lovemaking, but never had I imagined this happening on a letter that I thought was the worst news I'll ever receive, when I was on a date with another girl I was about to ask to be my girlfriend. Now do you understand my anger?" James had closed the distance between the two, and Lily could smell broom polish on him. And his cologne. She was pointedly trying not to think about his cologne. She was sure she was hallucinating at this point.

"Well, if you put it that way.."

"..yes?" He put the parchment back into his pocket, and rested his right arm by her head, boxing her in.

"..I might have not have thought this through." She whispered, looking into his hazel eyes, forcing herself to not glance at his lips.

"Of course you didn't," He whispered back.

Lily cleared her throat and looked down, arms folding around her chest defensively. She couldn't look him in the eye while saying this. "Look, James, if you flew all the way here just to say this, you needn't have come. I got your message, loud and clear."

"Message? What message?"

"It's fine, I'm happy for you."

"Happy for me?"

"Yes, I promise I will keep my distance at Hogwarts. She need not worry, neither do you."

"You know, for a brilliant witch, you can be so dense sometimes." Lily's face contorted, taking offence, and ready to spew out some witty come back that would be weirdly accurate, but he put both his hands on either side of her face, and tilted her head up slightly, ensuring their eyes met.

"Lily, why do you think I am here?" There was a tender intensity in his hazel eyes, a silent promise.

Lily's eyes widened, one hand subconsciously coming to rest on his arm, holding it there, holding her.

"I.." She stumbled, staring into his eyes, unable to come up with any response, much less a rational explanation of his presence here.

He waited patiently for Lily to reply, his thumb softly brushing her cheeks.

"You didn't reply." She whispered finally.

"This is something I wanted to tell you in person," he said, nudging her nose with his. "I also had to escort Emily back to her place."

"Out of all the times, this was the one you chose to be a gentleman," Lily replied, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm always a gentleman," he retorted with a playful smirk.

Lily actually snorted. "SURE."

"I could always go back, you know, if I'm not wanted here. I'm sure Emily would love a good night stroll-" James teased, backing away and turning towards the window. But Lily grabbed him and pulled him towards her, his arms instinctively wrapping around her waist.

"Just shut up and kiss me," she whispered, her lips a hair's breadth from his. James grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. He closed the gap between them, his lips brushing softly against hers at first. The gentle touch sent a shiver down Lily's spine, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt impatient, and deepened the kiss and her heart actually skipped a beat when James responded equally enthusiastically. She forgot that she was in her tiny bedroom, that she was wearing her old battered night suit, that 5 minutes ago she wasn’t sure how her last year at Hogwarts would pass.

But he was here. It felt impossible, but he was here and he was kissing her, and by Merlin, it felt more glorious than she could ever have imagined. James's hands slid up her back, pulling her closer, while Lily's fingers tangled in his hair, those black locks that she had dreamed of running her fingers through.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. Lily's cheeks were flushed, and James’s grin had softened into a tender smile.

"I’m getting this letter framed.” He murmured into her lips and Lily chuckled.

"I'm going to buy Isis the whole store."

[sonicfanj]

Ngl sometimes i feel like ppl are harsher on amy cause shes a girly character.

I've seen my fair share and more of bigotry aimed Amy's direction from straight up misogyny to more nuanced pigeonholing and appeals to power. That last bit in particular is interesting when you see people compare Amy to the likes of Sally, Blaze, and Rouge, with her lack of authoritative power or an "important" job being used to belittle her. Even more so how some people insisted that she was underserving when she did land such a position, so it could be her "girlishness" that people take offence to. That would not surprise me either considering there are people who have said that her "girlishness" and being open about her desire to have a relationship with a boy whom she structures her life around makes her a bad role model.

My thoughts on Amy representing the joy of just being yourself and never giving up on your dreams aside, looking at Sonic for role models is itself not a great idea since one of the values of the main character is to never compromise, a mentality in the real world that leads to war, murder, crime, abuse, and lots of other horrible things. So yeah, in that way Amy is a bad role model, but she's a fictional character, her job is to entertain you, not teach you how to live your life. So if her silly "girlishness" isn't someone's thing, it's better just to say it than try to justify it with misogyny and bigotry thinly veiled as watching out for all the girls out there who could be encouraged to enjoy traditionally girly things and like boys who inspire, motivate, and fill their lives with joy and happiness.

Don't get me wrong, it's easy to warp Amy's character into a symbol of pro abusive patriarchy as her character is kind of two-sided that way. I mean, if we look at what Amy wants, to be a part of Sonic's life and adventures, just to see him being him, Sonic doesn't even have to reciprocate her feelings. This traditional patriarchal idea feminine values revolving around a boy is very toxic and implies just a man's presence is enough to fulfill all of the life goals of a woman. That isn't good at all. It is however, a less than surface level look at the relationship the two have.

A lot of people like to cite that Sonic loves to run and Amy chasing him gives him reason to run. Even Hoshino-san (the man who led her creation) has alluded to that aspect of their relationship, so it's natural to see it as an important part. However, that is still looking at only the Amy working part of the relationship, and she works at it a lot, which is both for and against the toxic patriarchal view of her role and femininity. Consider, in a true patriarchy men are entitled to any woman they want and competition is limited to looks and looks alone. The work Amy puts in to have her dream fulfilled isn't necessary. Only her looks, which ironically Amy's focus on her looks is usually joked about at being at the expense of her health. She can take care of everyone else, but when it comes to selfcare she's literally only skin deep. Another fine example of Amy having aspects that work in a toxic patriarchy, especially if we consider that Amy's looks became more important to her chronologically when we transition from the classics when she wore whatever and was just another hedgehog to dressing herself up in a highly revealing outfit, that happens to be Sonic's favorite color (it's red, not blue like most people think. Just look at his shoes, plane, and even cars that he was affiliated with back in the classics) with her spines(/quills) distinctly styled. It's obvious that she wants to look good for him, which is indeed toxic patriarchy at it's finest in the handling of a female character. However, it is also a sign of love, to give unconditionally to the one that you love. But this then means that we have to look beyond just the patriarchal relationship where men are entitled to any woman of their choosing and actually need to look at what Sonic gives Amy.

Understanding what Sonic gives first requires stepping back and getting a bit meta, remembering that Amy was made specifically to be a girl in the franchise, Sonic's girlfriend (in a nontraditional relationship), and to have a personality that allowed her to perpetually chase after a guy who only looks forward to his next adventure or challenge. A lot of people call the happy-go-lucky girl who that birthed annoying and delusional, but it also shows a lack of knowing Sonic himself, something that the Sonic Origins and Sonic Prime versions of Sonic and tails' first meeting distorts. That will be relevant a bit later though.

While Amy's genki girl, rosy, and bubbly personality is what most people lock onto, usually insisting on a change in it, citing misogyny as a reason to practice misogyny against the type of girl that Amy is, the most important aspect of Amy's personality, designed to fit Sonic and his lifestyle is frequently overlooked. Even before meeting Sonic, if we go by the original continuity of the games, Amy's Rosy the Rascal moniker told us that she was the type of cheerful and optimistic girl who routinely got into and caused trouble for her own amusement. The getting into trouble part is the really important bit as Amy herself words it best in Sonic Adventure when yearning for the days of excitement she had as part of Sonic's adventures. She yearns for adventure, and expresses a love of it. And she isn't unexperienced either, as again, in the original continuity she travels to Never Lake on the order of the cards. The thing about Never Lake however, is it is a barren wasteland when Little Planet isn't present. This means that she went out there herself under her own power. She could not have done that without being at least somewhat experienced as an adventurer herself, and that's not even counting that she managed to get herself up onto Little Planet at all. But it shouldn't be a surprise since one of her hobbies is dowsing, a method for finding water, or treasures. This implies that she again enjoys being out either hunting treasure, or just needing to find water, a skill necessary when out in the wilderness, something an adventurer would be. Sonic being a world famous globetrotting adventurer in the original continuity also shows why she would have heard about him and wondered if her destined encounter would be with him. She's a hedgehog adventurer herself and he is the pinnacle of that, the pinnacle she wants to respect her as an equal. Amy being an adventurer is a huge, yet overlooked and underappreciated part of her character.

Now though, with Amy's character better examined, and why Sonic, his way of life, and even his trouble finding personality all can appeal to our rosy rascal, it is time to address his reciprocation to show that there is more to their relationship than a entitled toxic patriarchy. To that end, we have to again look at Tails and how he met Sonic. Origins and prime muddy things by going against the original continuity and actively having Sonic rescue Tails from his bullies. That never originally happened as it undermines Tails' character message of learning to stand up for yourself. What happened in the original continuity is that Tails seeing Sonic in person for the first time (again, he knew about him because he was a world famous, globetrotting adventurer from before even the first game) was a moment of tremendous inspiration for Tails. Actually seeing him made Tails want to stand up for himself and be cool like Sonic. To that end, Tails started following Sonic around while Sonic was on his runs on Westside Island. And this went on for days with Sonic actively being annoyed by it, only his live and live attitude allowing Sonic to say to himself to let Tails do as he pleased. And it's not like Sonic didn't try to lose him either. He did as I recall, but Tails could still keep up because of his namesake. And while I could go on here, the important for Sonic and Amy's relationship has been revealed.To help clarify the above, I'm actually going to refer to a moment from the Archie comics. A lot of game Sonic fans will consider this wrong, but for all of the bluster against interpretations of Sonic outside of SEGA of Japan, there are several things that became part of Sonic's character, chilidogs most notably. However, this fact allows for an example to be drawn to show Sonic's reciprocation of Amy's feelings and how that manifests. The moment in this case is a Sonally moment loathed by SonAmy fans and fans of Sonic's character alike. The moment when Sonic tells Sally that he can slow down for her. Loathed as the moment is, it actually captured an aspect of how Sonic handles romantic relationships.

While slowing down doesn't work for Sonic realistically in a relationship with Sally, since she outright requires Sonic to stop (exemplified, distorted as it may be, by the infamous slap), Amy is willing, desires, and has the freedom to put in the work to catch up with Sonic. Thus, when not overwhelmed by Amy's energy and overflowing emotions, Sonic will slow down for her, allowing her to chase after him into the adventures that she loves so much. A fine example of this is in Team Sonic and Team Rose's ending in Sonic Heroes where he could have easily outpaced her. When comparing how he treated Tails, who he still subconsciously expects to just keep up in casual situations, slowing down at all instead of trying to leave her in the dust speaks volumes. Addressing why this is all Sonic does to reciprocate Amy's feelings requires examining some of the bigotry inherent in the attack on Amy's girlishness as a reason to hate her and hold her to impossibly high standards.

To start, it has been stated by Sonic and Amy co-creator, Ohshima Naoto-san, that Sonic has the eternal heart of a boy (he really feels like Peter pan sometimes), but if he matured that he would choose Amy. So, this again puts us in toxic patriarchy relationships between a boy and a girl again, but as I said, there is bigotry at hand beyond just misogyny. Arophobia is easily the most blatant, though aphobia in general manifests when addressing Sonic's lack of romantic gestures, something Amy herself has indirectly said she doesn't need regardless of her cravings for it.

If you look at the larger LGBTQ+ spectrum, you will discover that aromantic and asexual people are part of the community. Or people who feel little to no romantic or sexual desire. To a lot of aspect people Sonic is extremely relatable as he just typically doesn't respond to it. For most people this says that Sonic doesn't like Amy, despite their co-creator saying he does. This would imply then that their is more going on, intentional or not, than just a boyish heart that is too immature for responding to the open heart of another. Such a heart however typically comes with expressions of disgust towards girls and a direct rejection of feelings that the boy doesn't understand. Sonic is presented very differently from that, usually just keeping his distance or fleeing when overwhelmed (this can also lead into discourse on how Sonic is actually very introverted but has a really good public façade and script). But as you follow the history between Sonic and Amy, you'll actually see him soften from being annoyed at her public displays of affection (something shown even in early concept art with his concept girlfriend Madonna, who Amy inherited the personality of), to being willing to walk side by side with her, letting her stand close, lying down next to each other and more recently actually returning her hug. This slow development shows what is potentially a demiromantic response (can still be aromatic, but my research isn't complete enough to make that determination), bringing forward the idea that Sonic simply needed time to form a bond close enough with Amy that would allow him to experience romantic feelings towards her. This is very different from the toxic patriarchy idea that Amy does all of the relationship work, as from am aromantic or demiromantic perspective, he very well can't put in the work Amy does as he isn't wired in a way to be able to, which aligns with the idea that it doesn't match Sonic's character as stated by Hoshino Kazayuki-san when describing why he gave Amy the personality that she has. It also means that anyone citing toxic patriarchy against the SonAmy dynamic are potentially themselves practicing bigotry, intentionally or not, against aromantic and demiromantic persons.

In conclusion, yeah, Amy's girlishness is definitely used as a point against her. But using it as a point against her is usually a sign of ignorance; either of the characters, their relationships, or the words and intentions of heir creators; failure to realize that Sonic is not a good role model himself, despite his heroic readings, meaning just by liking him and wanting to be part of his life neither is Amy, despite her representation of the joy of just being yourself and never giving up on your dreams; or bigotry through pigeonholing women into "acceptable" personalities and roles, and refusing to acknowledge that aspec and demispec persons exist. It's a very shallow reading of Amy's character and the complexity and nuance in her relationship with Sonic. And as thought exists on the conscious and subconscious levels, this isn't a matter of thinking deeper than the creators did (a strange claim to make without proof), as nothing exists in a vacuum and we all have far more subconscious thought then we ever give credit to. Trying to attack Amy's girlishness at best is just a sign of ignorance and/or malice, and I find that these days it's just so much easier and better for me to ignore that.

Sorry that ended up so long and meandering anon. It's a topic I can get very into, and I completely left out a lot of how I think Amy's girlishness helps out her and the IP on a whole due to the difference in perspective and approach that it brings.

Thanks for the ask!

[thatblackravenclaw]

I'll Keep You Warm

Blog Details + My Library

Fred Weasley x Slytherin!fem!reader

word count: 591

warning(s): me trying to speak british, Fred is called a good boy, smut with minimal plot, the word knickers, reader has dom undertones, cockwarming, reader calls Asotria ‘Stori’

.

.

.

“Babe, please?” He asks for the umpteenth time.

“Fred, please. I need to pass Defense Against the Dark Arts so I can be an Auror. Lupin already doesn’t like me as it is.” I grumble the last part while repositioning my quill as it has strayed from its original position.

“To be fair, you’re usually talking class so that’s probably why.”

“No, it’s because I’m in Slytherin and Snape is my mom’s best friend.”

“I highly doubt-“

“I have an idea.”

I get off of my desk chair and walk over to my bed where Fred’s at. I offer my hand and he looks at me as if I grew three heads. I reach down and grab his hand and bring him to the chair.

“Sit.” He slowly sits and man spreads. Damn, we must stay focused.

A slight bulge adorns his trousers. My mouth waters with need.

“Be a good boy and unzip your trousers for me.” A smirk kisses his lips, and he follows my instructions. His undergarments are next and his cock springs out. His tip is an angry red while pearls of pre cum gather.

I reach under my shirt and loop my thumbs around the top of my knickers. They drop to the ground his eyes follow. I close his legs and put mine on either side of him and roll down his foreskin as I sink on him. He lets out a noise between a grunt and a moan. The sound makes me clench around his length and almost make me lose my composure. Almost.

“I’m going to keep you warm, and you are going to sit here until I finish this paper. I’m halfway done. Give me 30 minutes and then I’m all yours.”

He lets out a groan but puts his head on my shoulder quiets down. His hips adjust and he hits rights against my cervix. I slap my hand over my mouth and catch my moan in my throat. I try to refocus myself by picking up my quill and dragging the books closer to me. His arms wrap around my waist and know that these 30 minutes are going to suck way worse for me than for him.

.          .          .

One more paragraph. My hand is cramping, my palm is turning red, and Fred’s whimpers has my bottom half flooded to the point that I feel the slick on m thighs. I lean back on his shoulders and sigh.

“Freddie?”

“Yes, love?”

“What if we have a quickie and then I finish my paper?”

“Even I know that it’s never just a quickie.”

I let out a dry laugh as I lean back forward. I hate when he’s right. Not even five seconds after I start writing, I hear the door open. I adjust my skirt and I hear Fred’s shoe step on my knickers.

“Fred, are you ever in your own dorm?”

“It’s the warm hospitality I get from you, Astoria.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too Weasley. Not distracting y/n are you?”

“Me? Never.” I chuckle to myself as I finish the last two sentences.

“Alright, I just came to grab my overnight bag.”

“Gross! T.M.I.! Just grab it and go.” I say while dropping my quill in disgust.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You said enough for me to know that you’re going to Draco’s. Bye Stori.” I say while making my tone singsong when I said bye.

She sticks her tongue out at me before bidding adieu.

“Fred?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m done with my paper.”

.

.

Fred Masterlist

[dcjokerhs]

OK, I have officially stayed up too long:

What if Grian was Wilbur's brother, older by three years, taken at 4-6 years old, by Cultists and put in Pearl's family, only to then experience the Hells of Yandere Highschool, fulfil the Cult's wishes via his capture from Evo, then end up being led to Hermitcraft via Mumbo, who then helps him reunite with Pearl?

Big neg for this idea? Designing the Cultists.

Positive for this AU? Kristin literally saw Pearl falling from Evo and went "NEW DAUGHTER!" and, when Pearl got Suspicious about it, gave her the task of Finding and Protecting her brother and helping Kristin find the Watchers, who are Hiding from Kristin because She's Heccin Death, and She Is FURIOUS with them.

Bittersweet Part of This AU? Phil and Techno stay away from Grian during MCC because they Remember, but they see he's Happy, and, like the way they abandoned Tommy and Wilbur after hearing Some Major Enemies were after them, they want him to believe whatever it is he's grown up thinking, because they'd rather that than admit Out Loud that They Failed, despite being Trillions of Years Old, because That Stuff Breaks You...

But, on the other hand, Phil's necklace-thing is a ruby and obsidian locket holding the babyhair of Grian, Wil and Tom, as well as the strand of hair Techno gave Phil as his first big "I Trust You, so I give you part of Me, grown from My Blood and My Soul, for you to Keep Always." It also has baby pictures and the Tommy's first daisy-chain that he'd tried crowning his Papa with.

(Techno may or may not also have four matching strands carefully woven into the underside of his hair, only visible when he's bearing his neck to the world with his hair in a bun.)

Other than that:

Jimmy is Pearl's little bro, he ends up being able to Sense Death (though, unfortunately it makes Canary Brain go "Mama!" and he GOES TOWARDS THE DANGER as Mumza's trying to get her tiniest adopted chick to STAY ALIVE! GDI!!)

Tommy nearly gets Eburean'd, Dream manages to do it in prison, he almost starts doing it once free from prison, but Tommy's still settling into his own abilities as a Phoenix, so Kristin goes "BABY BOY TO ELDEST BOY!" and yeets him to Grian, so Grian and Tommy have a "Who Are You?!" "Grian Minecraft?!" Moment.

(Dadza Be Madza. Dadza Be Sadza. Dream Be DEAD)

Tommy is reunited with the others via MCC, but Dream's there like "Come Home Tommy, you're Breaking Rules, Tommy!" tho Then Grian looms Over Dream as Scar distracts Tubbo and Tommy with Jellie, Grian going all Mr Dreamslayer, like "What Are You Doing Near my Smal Charge?"

Then Wilbur starts bawling over his baby brother and Techno's standing there, looking Mightly Uncomfy because all his weapons got taken from him at the door... And the Voices are screeching at him to "HUG THE CHICK!!" "TOMBIRB! TOMBIRB!" etc.

Things reach a head when either Grian gets Captured via the Rift and Pearl thinks her blood will work for the tracking spell, but No, It's Tommy's that works, or when Phil's locket gets stolen from around his neck, it ends up being opened and shown to Grian, only for Phil to step up behind whichever poor sod is holding it (idky, but I can see it being held by either Martyn or Zedaph) like "I Think You Have Something of Mine." and Confrontation Occurs.

BUT HEALING FLOOF!!!

So much healing floof1

Wilbur "accidentally" pushes Ranboo and Tubbo into Hermitcraft when "bidding Tommy goodbye" just as Xisuma's preparing to close the portal, then Scar sees Tubbo's burns and goes "THIS IS MY SON NOW!" as Ranboo's all stuttery and stumbly and Impulse and Keralis and Doc have to play rock/paper/scissors, though then Doc hears Tubbo Likes Nukes and Knows His Redstone and... oh. Oh dear. Tubbo now has 2 Chaotic Dads. Oh No, What A Tragedy (/s)

Ranboo likes helping Pearl, False and Cleo with their builds, and even follows Pearl when she's going to try selling her Cleaning Services with his notebook and quill, ready to take notes for her and help her calculate costs ahead of time. (He gets All The Mommas and Cub keeps trying to get him to eat more with the food he's stolen from Scar... Not that Ranboo knows about the thievery when Scar Finds Out.... before joining in on feeding Ranboo All The Foods Scar's Gone Dadmode Uh o UH oh....

Not even Mumbo's Return could save them from Grian's Big Bro Mode combo'd with Scar's Dad Mode...

Anyway!! Enjoy!!!

I am Going to SLEEP!! >w<

[volkswagonblues]

a lil guide to the Fire Nation for the ATLA fic writers out there

(aka. a no means exhaustive primer on east asia by an asian person)

This is a guide for fic writers want to write a canon-era story set in the Fire Nation, or featuring Fire Nation characters. A quick little primer on the tiny details of everyday life that you might not think about, but certainly stuff that would make me, an asian person, wince if I were to encounter it. BRUSHES, not quills. CHOPSTICKS, not forks. 

(note #1: this was partly inspired by a chat with @elilim​) 

(note: #2:  I originally intended it for zukka fic writers before realizing that other writers might find it useful. so apologies for a slight Zuko-bias for that reason)

(note #3: this is all stuff i was thinking about when writing firebender’s guide, in case anyone was wondering)

1. CLOTHING

Okay, I think the most straightforward way to describe what everyone’s wearing most of the time is “tunic”. They’re all just...tunics of different colours and varieties. Later when Zuko’s the Fire Lord he wears robes. The show provides a better visual guide than I could, here are a few notes to keep in mind:

a) Japanese people wear their collars LEFT crossed over RIGHT

I don’t think this would come up in writing as much as it would in art, but it’s considered bad luck to do it the wrong way because that’s only for dead people. Let my boy Zuko demonstrate:

b) There are no buttons

This is picky, but Wikipedia says “Functional buttons with buttonholes for fastening or closing clothes appeared first in Germany in the 13th century.[6] They soon became widespread with the rise of snug-fitting garments in 13th- and 14th-century Europe.” I kinda believe it. If you look closely, characters’ clothes are always tied together or wrapped in some way with a belt. If there are fasteners, they’re braided frog closures that go into a little loop, like the qipao-style dresses women wear in Ba Sing Se, or Zuko’s casual prince’s clothes in the topmost image. Anyways, I don’t think Zuko or Azula or the Gaang would technically button or unbutton anything when they’re changing clothes. Clothing is designed to be tied, not buttoned.

[so much more under cut]

c) This isn’t a real rule, but there’s something called koromogae, or the seasonal changing of clothing in Japan.

This is something I learned when I was writing firebender’s guide, and I just liked the fun detail about there being a strict calendar for when to wear something. I liked the idea of someone like Zuko, who actually spent most of his formative years outside of the Fire Nation, coming home and just suffering mutely through the summer heat because upper class etiquette says no changing into cooler clothes until August 15. 

From My Asakusa: 

And this website:

Generally, people change from thick, heavy, dark-coloured clothes for winter to thin, lighter, bright-coloured clothes for spring and summer. In traditional Japanese culture, particularly in formal settings such as tea ceremony, it is important to acknowledge the changes of seasons—in such circumstances, not only the patterns and colours of the kimono that are worn but also the utensils and furniture that are used are required to change. By changing their clothing, people notice and appreciate the change of seasons. [Japan Foundation]

Here are some visual guides from the official creators for clothes: (notice how it’s pretty much always left over right)

2.FOOD AND EATING

a) Traditional cuisine

It seems like the most common foods in canon are Fire Flakes and meat, to the point where poor Aang had to eat lettuce out of the garbage at some point.

HOWEVER, the Fire Nation seems to basically a big subtropical archipelago, so I would guess that seafood and rice are common. If you want to write about characters eating, a. quick google for “traditional japanese cuisine” would help you come up with a menu really quickly.

Wikipedia says:

The traditional cuisine of Japan, washoku (和食), lit. "Japanese eating" (or kappō (ja:割烹)), is based on rice with miso soup and other dishes; there is an emphasis on seasonal ingredients. Side dishes often consist of fish, pickled vegetables, and vegetables cooked in broth. Seafood is common, often grilled, but also served raw as sashimi or in sushi.

But before we get too serious, at one point the Gaang eats a “smoked sea slug” (Sokka’s Master) 

Oh ATLA, never stop being you.

b) Utensils

One thing to keep in mind is chopstick etiquette. Someone like Zuko or Toph, for instance, would have completely internalized all of these.

Another thing is that there are no glasses. Cups and bowls are made of ceramic or clay. Let the Gaang show you:

And another note: characters won’t eat “bread” in the European sense, ie. a baked lump of dough. Steamed buns, yes. Fried pancakes made from batter, yes. Flatbreads, okay I’ll give it a pass. Rice or noodles should be the most common carbs of choice.

3.ETIQUETTE

“In the homeland, we bow to our elders” - angry schoolmistress in The Headband.

Japan Guide has a list of etiquette rules for visiting Japan, which is interesting but not too necessary to read. In general, based on what The Headband tells us, Fire Nation characters would have been raised with a strong nationalist curriculum that values communal contribution over individualist expression. Even someone like Zuko, who openly rebels against that, probably couldn’t help but be affected by it. In general the Fire Nation seems to have an East Asian-ish set of values. It’s patriarchal, all the positions of authority are filled by men; there seems to be a strong emphasis on patriotism; there’s a sense of diffidence and respect towards one’s elders; and finally, there’s an emphasis on “knowing” one’s place in society and fitting into what’s expected of oneself.

I don’t really know how to describe it, but in China and Japan I sometimes feel like there’s rules for everything, and even people born and raised there acknowledge it could be stifling at times. You could go down a rabbit hole researching points of etiquette (for instance, rules on who has to sit where in group dinners...), but to me the most important thing is acknowledging that Fire Nation has a rigid system of etiquette, and also, they’re an imperialist power who’s pretty prejudiced against foreigners. Poor Aang/Kuzon gets called “mannerless colony slob” just for being slow on the bowing action (!!!)

(in firebender’s guide I had a lot of fun imagining the stupid microaggressions Ambassador Sokka has to face in the Fire Nation, so obviously I’m just biased)

4.WRITING AND DESKS

Characters would probably write on paper, with a calligraphy brush. Not quills or pens -- a brush. Technically, old Japanese and Chinese texts should be written top to bottom, right to left, but the show itself doesn’t do this, so I think you’re fine. 

One fun thing about traditional calligraphy is that you don’t use bottled ink. You have something called an ink stone, and then you grind your ink yourself by rubbing the ink stone in a special little dish with a bit of water. In my (very few) encounters with this stuff in the calligraphy lessons of my youth, the ink stones can be plain or have beautiful designs on the side. It looks something like this: 

ATLA is an East Asian-ish universe, so characters are likely to be kneeling at a table, not sitting. To demonstrate, here’s my boy Sokka doing his famous rainbow at Piandao’s:

and here’s the war chamber meeting when Zuko speaks out against a general’s plans to sacrifice some soldiers:

THERE ARE EXCEPTIONS: This is Zuko’s cute little setup when he’s writing his goodbye letter to Mai. In this case he’s writing in a chair and table. It’s possible that some furniture items, like a sitting desk and a bed in a bedframe (not a bedroll or futon) are special royal palace features. Normally in a private setting we see characters sitting on the ground or on a slightly elevated platform with a low table. Maybe Caldera is just different? Or rich people are just different: the Bei Fongs also have a sit-down dining table + chair setup.

(That little rectangular box is his ink dish!!)

5.A NOTE ON GENERAL CULTURE

It’s worth talking about a few general points of East Asian culture. I can’t claim to speak for ALL of Asia, and I don’t think I should. But I do think ATLA fic writers who want to set something in the Fire Nation should take a few moments to at least skim the wiki pages for filial piety and Nihonjinron (literally, "theories/discussions about the Japanese"). There’s a certain...vibe to...asianness... that I’m not sure I can explain without like, a doctorate degree in sociology. 

It’s a bit like gender, I guess. There’s no definitive checklist to what is a woman and what is a man, and we can argue that gender is performative, that it’s a construct, but at the end of the day gender is still (tragically) real in the sense that it still shapes people and affects how we walk and talk and dress and think. Nationality is the same. Obviously, the Fire Nation is a made up place in a made up show, but out of respect to the cultures that inspired it, I do think it’s worth familiarizing yourself with some of these cultures’ codes and values.

Also, ahem, if I can direct you to war crimes in the Japan’s colonial empire. Again, worth remembering that the Fire Nation was an imperalist colonizer too.

I might do a continuation of this post and talk through my more abstract takes about Fire Nation culture - Is Zuko an example of filial piety gone right or filial piety gone wrong? Why I think Zuko’s flashbacks are like, at least part teenage melodrama bullshit (the reason is son preference), how someone like Sokka might be treated once he’s openly Water Tribe in the Fire Nation (probably with racism...), specific aspects of asian homophobia and racism, etc. We’ll see.

This is not a definitive guide. Comments and critique welcome.

If you think there’s a factual mistake, PLEASE hop in my asks and let me know. I also think there’s a huge blind spot in ATLA for South and Southeast Asian representation, so I acknowledge that I can’t speak for all Asians, and there is no such thing as a “pan-asian” identity.

If there’s something else you’re curious about, I’m not a historian or anything, but I like research. Ask me and I’ll try to answer the best I can.

And oh, one last thing, this is how I do research when I wrote firebender’s guide, in case anyone’s interested in learning more (LINK)

[p-and-p-admin]

Hello Folks! For the final instalment of the current Behind the Quill - Spicy edition please make welcome an elder statesman of the SSHG fandom, Teddy Radiator. Hello everyone! Before you dive in, I just want to thank you for the opportunity and honor you have given me to answer your questions today. Many of you have helped me out with your support, and through my Go Fund Me earlier this year, many of you literally made it possible for me to keep my house. As I sit here, at my beautiful desk, in my beloved home, it is truly gratifying to be able to say Thank You, for your support, and your enthusiasm. I had a wonderful time answering your excellent questions, and I apologize for being so long-winded. I have priors! 

Teddy Radiator

Sex scenes and scenes of intimacy - a Q&A with Teddy Radiator

How do you keep scenes fresh? I have a difficult time with sex scenes being repetitive.

Well, there are only so many ways and positions the human body can adopt for sex, so there is a certain amount of repetition, just because of the act itself. You know, there’s only about 5 songs in the world, and the only difference is the how, the where and the when.

I once knew a saxophone player who had this gritty, lascivious sound, like his sax was trying to lure innocent girls into a dark corner and have its wicked way with them. I asked him, “Hey Andy, how do you get that really dirty sound?” He just smiled and said, “I think very dirty thoughts.”

Writing for me is the same - I have a very dirty mind! I usually picture what my characters want to do. Sometimes it will be oral sex, or sometimes it will be very rough or kinky. If the plotline is relaxed, you can make it playful and fun. If there is tension and conflict, I can make the moment more tender, a moment of comfort, in which the characters are very gentle, and let the passion build.

Conversely, depending on the characters in question during a tense scene, I may make it more desperate and frantic, to match the mood of the moment, and what has transpired before and what is possibly going to happen after the sex. Let the characters’ frame of mind guide you, and if you feel like the details of the sex are too familiar, try looking back to what led up to the sex, and see if it can be taken in a different direction to inspire your characters.

Also, I prefer speaking in a very soft focus way if I'm in the female point of view. I will take in the ideas of how a female feels when sexually aroused, the erogenous zones, the sensations that are felt. I like to make it very visceral, so that we are in the moment with her. It's what she's feeling, what she's doing - it is what is stimulating that animal part of her, more than the thinking woman part of her.

Strangely enough, I actually think I write erotica better from the male point of view. I've always had a feeling that I was male in a past life, and I can understand the sensations that a male has. And also the idea that males are visual creatures, so they are having sex with their eyes as much as they are with their bodies. I also tend to use a little bit coarser language when I'm in deep male POV, but again, I am basing it on how I have created this character and how they think when they're not in bed.

I have two different characters in my original novels (Her Minder, and The Chine, both of which are available on Amazon, plug plug). One character is a rough and ready, masculine s&m Dom type who has a real streak of crudity in the way he thinks and the way that he has sex. He doesn't make love, he fucks. He's a bit more callow and a bit more sly about how he deals with women - he is the quintessential bad boy.

He's fun to write, because he's evolving, and finding a softness he forgot he had. But to be honest, he still likes it dirty, and I don't want to knock off too many hard edges from him. That's what makes him more popular with the readers.

On the other hand, I also have a character that is a bit more retiring, he is a bit more intelligent, more cerebral, but also has this deep romance within that means that when he is making love to his woman, he uses language in an intimate, almost baby-talking way that isn't crude or filthy, but done iso to arouse and please her, because he knows his partner's wants and desires every bit as much as I do.

I also keep the sex serious. I don’t write funny sex well. I put a bit of humor in later, when they’ve exhausted one another and are staring at the ceiling, wondering when their bodies are going to stop twitching. I prefer my sex to have gravitas; the yucks come later. However, if you like to make your sex playful and you can do it well (which I can’t), by all means make it fun.

What helps you get in the right frame of mind for writing?

Silence. I can’t listen to music, or have the tv in the background. I almost can’t stand the sound of the ceiling fan. When I was writing my novels, I did a lot of typing around 5:30 in the morning. Those who know me well have heard of my Muse, or Spirit Guide or Guardian Angel, what have you. My best writing has always transpired when I trusted my Muse to do the driving. In those moments, my writing has always been at its truest. Also, you just have to slog through it - Stephen King said that he never accomplished anything waiting for his Muse to show up, but when he sat down and started the hard work of actually putting words on paper, his Muse always arrived soon after.

My biggest question is how to balance out sex scenes involving more than two participants without making it confusing (pronouns, what people are doing, how to make it make sense when readers are imagining it)?

Great question! My original characters in Her Minder are a threesome, M/M/F, and it can get confusing! What helped me was to alternate what was going on, so that the reader knew Male 1 was in a certain place/position, and Male 2 was in another. I was then able to coordinate them, using Male 1’s name and what he was doing, giving the reader a visual image of him. Then while he was doing his thing, I could switch to Male 2, establish his position, then use his name. Then when I moved the reader’s ‘eye’ from one to the other, I could use ‘he’, because they already knew who was where. If you can see it in your mind’s eye, you can give them a geographical map to follow.

I also believe in writing in deep POV. I don't myself like writing in first person, and I have never read first person erotica that I enjoyed because it made me feel a little pervy and voyeuristic! But if First Person is your POV of choice you can make it work. Write what you know, write how you like it.

But don't write it from a distance; don't write it as if you're watching people on a bed going at it. I have read that style and to me it just feels icky (that's a scientific term, by the way!)

Writing in deep Point of View means that you are in the moment, and that's erotica at its best. They always say show, don't tell, and I agree that is never more important than in writing erotica, whether you are telling it from the male point of view or the female point of view, or the male/male or female/female point of view or whichever combination of twosomes or threesomes or sixteensomes that you are writing, make sure that you are in the moment with them. This means talking about what's happening while it's happening; how it feels - get inside their minds about what they're feeling and what they are doing.

How do you suggest writing “ugly” or “unattractive” characters in sexual situations without accidentally turning them into porny stereotypes? If a character has stringy hair or jowls, how best to represent them in a way that makes you think “yes, Filch is getting some and the sex is valid and actually hot” versus “Filch actually has a six pack and is secretly hot in a conventional way”.

Oh, I do love me a bit of Filch love!  One of my favorite stories is Lemon Squeezy, which is a threesome of Filch, Snape and Millicent Bullstrode. These have never been described as three of the most beautiful people in Potterverse, but they found one another beautiful because I found them beautiful.

I think that is it. You have to love and respect your characters if you want your reader to find them attractive. Establish their physical attributes (or lack thereof) and their personality traits early on, while you’re laying the groundwork of the story. Flesh them out long before they get their clothes off. But do it in a way that is matter-of-fact. Just as it’s a little cringy to constantly harp on about how beautiful a person is, it’s just as bad to keep pointing out their ugliness. Believe me, those of us (and I do look in the mirror) know how unattractive we are.

Face it head on, get it out of the way, and you won’t have to physically describe them during the sex. Get deep in their heads, and let them enjoy the pleasure of what they are doing. I also once did a Filch/Hermione fic, which had a fun plot twist at the end. People remembered the twist more than they did the squicky feeling of seeing Filch and Hermione having sex. Love your characters. Give them some fun.

How do find the words without repeating yourself? Do you use a lexicon?

I don’t use a lexicon, but I have read loads of different authors who use the language in a way that lights up my head (Pat Conroy, Craig Johnson, Stephen King, JW Ward, to name a few - I can’t for the life of me dredge up my other favorite authors - it’s early and my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders). I do work at NOT being repetitive, though. There’s only so many things you can call a penis before it just gets silly. Again, I fall back on the physical feeling of the moment, more than the mechanics of it, and there’s a bit more play in the vocabulary for that.

Does setting or location for the scene play a big part in how you choreograph the scene?

Oh, yes! I love making the location a character in and of itself. The setting gives you so much inspiration on how the sex will play out. The one that keeps coming to mind is Witchhiker’s Guide to Beltane, where Severus and Hermione have this passionate sex in a cornfield, after chasing one another through it during rehearsal for a fertility ritual.

He was dressed to represent Cernunnos complete with antlers and breechcloth and she had this dress of multicolored scarves; the object was to chase her and remove the scarves one by one, sort of a Solome’s dance crossed with a Paso Doble. When he had caught her and removed the last of the scarves, he took her right on the ground. They were sweaty and breathless and I had the time of my life writing that moment. In my novels, one of the main characters is a full-on Professional Dom, and some of the wildest things I’ve ever written happened in his dungeon, called The Chine. If you give yourself a fun location, you can have loads of fun having sex in it!

Do you plan it out like a waltz or does it come-out freeform?

I guess what I need to start out by saying is that I am not a writer who uses conventional means of putting together a story. I never write an outline, I barely ever write out a description of characters, unless I am inspired to do so. I mainly ride on instinct and what feels right to me.

Sometimes this is fine and it works really well, and other times I do feel my lack of technique working against me. I'm not one who dashes out a rough draft and then goes back and fleshes it out later. I tend to put my stories together one paragraph at a time; and while they say this is not the way you should do it, unfortunately I'm a stubborn old thing and that's what I do! I have always been an instinctive writer; what you read just comes out of me in that moment. Of course, I’m not saying I don’t go back and edit the living hell out of it, because I do, but I don’t choreograph it. I can’t tell these characters what to do. I’m just writing down what they tell me.

Do you carefully plot out/outline where in the story you want sex scenes to fall or do your characters run the show on that front?

My characters walk all over me. I have absolutely no say in what they do. You remember that Dom I spoke about a couple of questions ago? He was originally a walk on part - one scene and never heard of again. Then for some reason he came back and made him a baddie and killed him off. Then he kept resurrecting himself, until now he’s one of the lead characters and a reader favourite (all 25 of them).

If you get to know the mind of your characters (what they will let you know, at least), you know what they will do in any situation, and you know how they will react to what is happening to them. I never know when mine are going to break ranks and grab a bed somewhere. I only know that a situation presents itself, and the reaction is to have sex. When I’m writing, I literally give them the lead and follow behind, furiously taking dictation.

Any advice on how to tackle writing intimate scenes if you aren’t familiar with having sex yourself?

Well, this is a tricky one. To me, what makes a sex scene work is not the physicality of the participants, so the ‘pull tab A and place in slot B’ mechanics are not that important. They aren’t at IKEA!

However, in saying this, I do think it’s very important that one knows just what the human body is capable of, and the sensations one feels during the act. It’s hard to describe the feel, smell, taste, sound and look of something you’ve never experienced. But I’ve also written about field dressing a Glock 17, and I’ve never done that, either. What I would say is read. A lot. And discover what you think would feel good and create your own version of that. Keep it simple; if you can’t imagine it, don’t write it. It will be self-conscious and feel false.

Not that I mean to get all cerebral and start taking it apart in a scientific way. That type of erotica reads like a medical journal, or a sex manual! It is not appealing or romantic or sexy to me at all. When it gets clinical, and chapter and verse are being quoted, it just loses its buoyancy and its spontaneity.

Good sex does take place in the head first and then the body follows suit, but always remember that you as the author are essentially driving a body, and taking note of its feelings and sensations. Tell the reader what is being done, but do it by highlighting the reaction to it, the sensation of it. The action/reaction is one of my favorite techniques.

It's also a good idea to always read your work out loud, so that it has a rhythm and a natural feel to the pace, and that the dialogue sounds natural. When I first started reading fanfiction, I read everything I could get my hands on regarding erotica. As I became a little bit more discerning, I started noticing a pattern in fanfiction smut that gave me pause.

It was a way people spoke to one another, and it was supposed to be erotic and sexy, but it didn't sound natural. It sounded more like an inner monologue, which is absolutely fine, but being said out loud it did not sound like something I would want to say to someone nor would I want it said to me; it just sounded silly.

What do YOU think makes a scene particularly erotic? Do you think there is a list of more universally “hot” things or is it always entirely individual?

I do think it comes down to personal taste. Something I may find incredibly erotic may be ‘meh’ to someone else, and something that they find blazingly hot may strike me as pedestrian. My personal erotic hit parade includes, in order: dirty talk, (which can be delicious, but also heart shrivelingly cringy in the wrong hands), Dom/sub kink, genuine love and passion, roleplay, and dark-haired, dark-eyed men with deep, sexy voices. But I digress, and I actually didn’t answer the question!

I think love and respect are sexy as hell, as is trust (here we go again!) You can’t have a fun, kinky scene without trust. It just comes across as non-con, which I’ve written, but is not a favorite trope of mine. I love a scene where the characters are fighting their attraction, and they finally, passionately give into it, and don’t let up until they are sure they’ve let the other one know just how they feel, both good and bad.

I love genuine wonder and joy in the characters; the jaded, “I’ve fucked them all” mindset doesn’t thrill me at all. I love seeing that clarity of passion, and realization of true feeling and depth of emotion that comes from two people who not only want one another but love one another. I love seeing characters not only undone by the pleasure they are receiving, but transported by the pleasure they give to their lover. I love ragged moans, and gasps of delight, and the stunned, grateful look on a man’s face when he is so close, and he can’t quite believe how good it feels.

And this follows to the next thing that you might want to take into consideration: is my character more interested in pleasing himself than he is his partner? Not that one is better or worse than the other, but just that they approach the act in a different manner.

Again, it comes back to what you like and what you don't like when you write it. When you are looking at what you've written, you do have to step back, because if you don't you might start second guessing yourself and questioning whether you should share it. Like good sex, once you are deeply into it, just let the bodies do the talking. If it feels natural, if the dialogue sounds like something people say to one another, if their movements are realistic. By that I mean, don't get so acrobatic that people are thinking, "Nobody could physically do that! My body would never let me!" I think readers aren't interested in acrobatics, they are interested in that feeling of, "I want someone to do that to me" and, "I want to do that to someone."

Are you ever worried people think what goes on the page represents your own kinks, quirks and preferences. I mean, maybe it does and that is okay, so I guess I mean is it alarming to potentially bare yourself on the page that way?

Writing erotica does require you to be fearless! It is very intimate, and you are essentially writing about things that you yourself like to do / have done to you etc. If you are not a person who is into kink, don't write kink. If you are someone who loves romance, write it romantically. If you like it rough and ready, that's how you write it. We all have this yin/yang, man/woman, male/female within us. You can find it, and it will assist you in accepting yourself and what you write.

A good friend of mine read both my novels for Audible, and did a brilliant job on them. Evan and I have known each other for a long time as strictly friends and that's all we’ll ever be. But as I listened to him reading my sex scenes, I became really flustered and weird. My face felt like it was on fire! It was really disturbing, hearing him speak these words, even though I was the one who wrote them, and I was the one who was happy with my work!

So when you are writing, always read out loud what you've written to see how it comes across. It might make for uncomfortable reading at first. But take yourself out of the equation, and just read it as if you're reading someone else's dialogue and action.

And lastly, get a good beta reader who knows their stuff. I was so fortunate to have the best beta reader in fandom reach out to me and say, “I love your writing, and I think I can help you be even better.” Ten years later, she’s still trying her best to make me better. I hope you can find someone like that - she has been essential to me. Find someone who is less interested in your ego and more interested in your story, and trust them to be faithful to your work first and to you second. Your writing will improve overnight.

In closing, as time goes by, tastes do change, and things that used to excite you may seem a little tame, or even possibly too extreme for you now. Life picks us up and shakes us in its jaws, and leaves us forever altered.

I'm no spring chicken, I'm looking at a lot less calendar pages in front of me than I've left behind. My marriage of 23 years ended this Spring, when my husband left me for a woman with whom he had been having a two year online affair. I had known about it from the start, and having to watch what I thought was a solid, happy partnership become something sick and horrible, I became profoundly traumatized.

I was devastated, and do you know what the worst thing was? I lost the ability to write or create. Two years was a long time to be unable to find anything within me to even daydream about that didn't cause me pain. It was as if the ability had disappeared.

But, I do know that writing is within me, and this Muse of mine, who has been carrying me along all my life is still there, patiently waiting for me to be reborn into a different person, a different writer. The urge to write again is knocking on the door, but it's hard. Something that used to be so easy for me is hard now, and that's a little scary. As I mentioned more than once, my trust has been crippled, and I am no longer the fearless writer I was. Even allowing myself to trust my Muse, who has NEVER let me down, has been difficult. Trust. Tough little word.

Will I write erotica the same way that I did before? I don't know at this point. What I do know is that I am proud of what I wrote. At the time I was writing prolifically, it was exactly where I wanted to be and exactly what I wanted to experience. What happens now is going to be a different type of writing, because I'm a different writer now. But just because I no longer get out the whips and chains on a regular basis doesn't mean that I don't remember where to find them!

Lastly, I had then, and I still have, a huge support group of friends who like what I do, and they have supported me through all of this trauma of the last two years both emotionally, and financially. They kept me going, when even my Muse could not. If I do write again, and I do plan to, it will be in no small part due to their love and encouragement.

Having friends to encourage you makes a humongous difference. Find those friends who love what you do, and write your heart out for them. They will never let you down.

Wow, this was so much fun! Thank you for the opportunity to answer your fantastic questions - you made me stop and think more than once - about writing, and erotica especially. This has rekindled a little spark that I was afraid might have died altogether in the past couple of years. Thank you. Namaste.

[dracowars]

i read your first request and it’s AMAZING!! i loved it soo much, so i was wondering if you could write smth where y/n is dracos gf - they meet in his dorm room after class, but one day she’s super late and acting really weird, draco doesn’t bother, tries to comfort her, and maybe get a lil steamy, but she doesn’t want to.. he then discovers scaring on her hand, and she tells him that crabble sent her to umbridge for doing smth bad.. you can decide on the plot, those are just some ideas! xx

engraved | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

word count: 3,0k

summary: where y/n's visit to the new headmistress leads to a heated argument with draco

a/n: thank you very much for your kind words and for requesting, i really hope that you like it <3

warnings: a little steamy, angst, mentions of blood

universe: harry potter

Trying to hold back the tears, you run down the sparse torch-lit corridors of Hogwarts, your footsteps echoing from the thick stone walls around you creating the only other sound besides your soft sobs. You press your left hand against your chest while you burst into the closest girls' bathroom, which is completely empty at this time, especially since Dolores Umbridge is in charge of the rules here.

It has been less than a month since she crept into school as the new headmistress and everything is already upside down. Students are allowed to walk around at a certain time only, detours between lessons are not acceptable at all, couples are almost no longer allowed to exist and actually, just all kind of fun and joy at Hogwarts has been extingusihed by her rules.

However, worst of all are the punishments for breaking any of Umbridge's thousand rules. Recently she has founded the so-called Inquisitorial Squad, a select group of students who help her to locate every kind of violations happening around the school. They sneak around the hallways on their hourly tours at night and report every so tiny thing to their new boss immediately. Most of these students are, of course, Slytherin's. Your boyfriend Draco was also offered to become a part of this squad, which he gladly accepted and was named its leader. You exactly know how perfect Draco fits into the role of the bad and ruthless leader, but still, you weren't very happy about it. After all, this woman is currently destroying your second home and he is helping her in a certain way.

Being the girlfriend of the Inquisitorial Squad's leader made you think that nothing can harm you, but oh, you were terribly wrong. Usually by this time in the early evening after your last course in Transfiguration you would already be in Draco's prefect dorm room, cuddling on his bed and just talking about your day. Because of the new established rules, you have to sneak into his room, trying to not get caught, but so far it has not been a very big problem. Even if someone of the other Slytherin's catches you, they will be far too scared of Draco to report it. But unfortunately everything took a different turn today.

During your Transfiguration lesson you had to admit that you forgot to do your homework, something that doesn't happen often but the current situation in Hogwarts burdens everyone, even the teachers, and on top of that you also came too late. Not that McGonagall was mad at you or anything, you are one of her best students after all, and a simple warning that it should not happen again was enough punishment in her opinion. Unluckily for you, Vincent Crabbe, one of your boyfriend's goons, is also in your class. And he definetely takes his job as an inquisitor a little too serious.

When you wanted to get out of the classroom, he suddenly got in your way and blocked it, waiting for everyone else to leave. At first you thought he was just trying to be funny again, you have never had a problem with each other in the first place. But apparently Crabbe prefers to receive an award from Umbridge to your friendship and the fact that you are in the same house didn't stop him in deducting twenty house points from his own house because you broke two rules. You never expected him to have a big brain, but that he even dragged you into Umbridge's office afterwards just because you forgot your homework in a class she is not even a part of, was even too stupid for a Vincent Crabbe.

And only then did it get really bad.

A tear has now found its way down your cheek, but you hastily wipe it away and run to the sinks in the girls' bathroom. You quickly turn on the faucet and hold your reddened, throbbing hand under the ice-cold water, your lips escapes a painful gasp. You squeeze your eyes shut at the pain and let the water run down your skin, hoping to soothen your aching flesh. What Umbridge did to you can no longer be considered a punishment, it was more of a torture.

As soon as Crabbe rudely pushed you into her disgusting pink office, he immediately received his desired reward and left you alone with this monster of a woman. This disgusting woman greeted you with a fake cunning smile and asked you to sit on one of the chairs at her table, the cats trapped in the pictures on every inch of the wall meowing in your ear. First you resisted against her request but soon realized that discussions with her are of no use and sat down after all.

With that peculiar high tone of hers, she handed you a black quill and then asked you to write 'I must not be late' onto the parchment until you memorize it. She also told you that you won't need any ink. With an annoyed roll of your eyes you straightend up your position, put the tip of the quill onto the paper and started writing. Not even spelling out the sentence one time, you felt a sharp pain on the back of your hand with every further letter you wrote down. As you took a look at your hand you noticed the exact words you just wrote were engraved on your skin.

Shocked, you glanced at Umbridge, but she just stood their with a smile on her face, shaking her head and shrugging. You figured out that the ink was made from your own blood and also that every word would only hurt more. And that is exactly what it did. She must have let you write that one single sentence down over fifthy times before she was sure you had learned your lesson.

You yourself didn't really care if you did, all you wanted to do was to get out of that hell as soon as possible. And now you are here, standing in absolute pain in front of an already broken mirror in a cold bathroom.

You have to blink a few times while looking up at the ceiling to hold back your tears and then you look at your injured hand again. You pull it out from under the running water for a moment, only to see that you are still able to perfectly read the words. The cold water did not really ease the pain, it almost feels like it has gotten worse. You lightly touch the reddend, blood smeared skin around the actual wound with your fingertip and just at the slightest touch you flinch and pull your hand back.

You don't know how long you stood there and held your hand under the water as suddenly a thought pops up in your mind: Draco. If he finds out about what happened, he will be furious. Also, he is probably already waiting for you for two hours, not that it is unusual for you to be late to your daily meetings with your boyfriend, you always get caught up by some work for school, but you never needed this long before. Is he already looking for you?

Without waisting another thought, you close the tap again, dry your hand very gently and then go out of the girls' bathroom, always careful not to run into the next squad member's arms and get sent back to the devil itself. Fortunately, you manage to find your way to the common room without getting caught, only once imagining that you heard Mrs. Norris. After you have said the password successfully, you enter the, luckily, empty room.

You quickly make your way to Draco's prefect dorm room, pulling the sleeve of your cloak - or as you have just noticed because of the large size, Draco's cloak - over your wounded hand so that it remains hidden. All you want is to be hugged now and comforted by him and not that he gets upset and angry and probably storm to Umbridge's office right away. Softly, you knock on the door and take in a deep breath, before it is opened vigorously.

Immediately you are pulled into the room, the door behind you is closed, even locked, and you get pressed against it with your back. In front of you is none other than your incredibly handsome boyfriend whose eyes seek eye contact with you in an instant. "Where were you?", Draco asks in a calm voice, gently stroking his fingertips over your cheeks to your chin, causing goosebumps to spread all over your body.

"I-I was held in Transfiguration. I had to catch up on some tasks and I forgot the time. I'm sorry, Draco", you lie into his face, really not wanting to tell him anything about what happend. "You made me wait a long time for you today, are you aware of that, darling?", he reminds you with a cheeky grin, his face slowly coming closer to yours. You know exactly what that look, that expression in his suddenly darker eyes means. He moves the hand that is not under your chin over your side and lets it stay on your hip. "But that is no problem, love. We still have enough time.."

With these words he then connects your lips into a hungry kiss, pressing you more against the door to his room. His hand on your hip squeezes you harder and he runs his other hand down to your neck. His firm grip makes you gasp, only earning a deep chuckle from the platinum haired boy.

For this brief moment in which he caught you off guard by slamming his lips onto yours, you had forgotten everything around you, but it did not last long and suddenly all the experiences come back into your head. Not wanting to continue this, you put your hands on his chest, trying to push him away from you but you only manage to break the kiss, which does not please him at all.

"I'm really not in the mood today, Draco", you explain, hoping that he will understand, like he usually does. "You will be, just wait and see", he winks playfully, absolutely not noticing the seriousness in your voice. Before you can say anything you only see the corners of his mouth curl up and next thing you know is he's attacking your neck, sucking and nibbling at that specific spot behind your ear.

Because of the actually pleasing feeling, you put more pressure on Draco's upper arms, which you are now unintentionally holding onto. "D-Draco", you softly whimper as he takes off your green tie and starts unbuttoning your white blouse, his rough kisses slowly wandering to your collarbone. "Please, Draco, stop", you manage to bring out, clearer than previously, but he ignores your request and just continues with what he is doing.

"We both know that you don't want me to stop", Draco whispers in your ear and connects your lips again, this time even rougher, not giving you the opportunity to say anything. It takes you a few seconds until you, in fact, try to relax under his touch and let yourself go, tilting your head to one side so he has even more access to the sensitive skin on your neck, which is already bluish.

But you just can't. You can't force yourself to do this after the horrifying encounter with Umbridge.

With a strong, forceful push you manage to shove Draco away from you ungently, a shocked and kind of annoyed expression plastered upon his face. "I said stop, Draco!", you practically scream at him, his forehead furrowed as the tears well back into your eyes. You want to pass him and go to his bed, but he quickly grabs your wrist and stops you. Immediately you harshly swat your hand away.

"Let me go and just leave me alone! You are always so insensitive!", you yell at him again, the emotions taking over your actions, but this time the tears find their way down your cheeks and only now Draco notices your change of appearance, how puffy your cheeks are and how your eyes are swollen and bloodshot, as if you had already cried before coming to his room.

Crying, you lie down on his bed, facing the wall so that your back is facing him. Draco frowns for a moment when he sees your devastated figure trembling from your heavy sobs. You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your crying, but that only makes it worse. You can feel the mattress sink down beneath you as Draco lies down beside you, not touching you in the slightest.

A few minutes pass in which noone speaks, only your crying can be heard throughout the silence of the room. Your desperate attempts to calm yourself down and wipe away your recurring tears fails dramatically. Draco, on the other hand, lies next to you motionless, his head propped up on his elbow. If there is one thing in this entire traumatic enough world that he hates the most, it definetely is seeing you, the love of his life, his soulmate, cry. He would love to punch himself for not noticing how bad you are feeling sooner. Feelings of guilt start to plague him and he doesn't know what to do, if you even want to be touched by him anymore, especially in this fragile state.

Nevertheless, Draco finally decides to approach you slowly by stroking your hair gently and carefully to not scare you. He just wants to show you that he is here for you, that he is by your side, even if you may not feel like talking right now. When he notices that you are not resisting his touch, he runs his fingertips over your arm, trying to comfort you somehow without it being too much. And when you don't fight against that either, Draco suddenly wraps his arms around your still shaking body from behind and presses you tightly against him.

"Please don't cry, sweetheart", he softly whispers into your ear, lifting his head so he gets a glimpse of your face from the side. "Please stop..", he almost begs and feels tears pricking in his own eyes now as well. He has seen you cry a few times already, but never this much. It breaks his heart. "I'm here for you, angel."

In his strong and protective arms, tightly secured around your waist, you finally manage to calm down at least a little bit and turn around to face him. You don't dare to look at him with your probably disfigured face from all the crying, but Draco has other plans. He puts a hand on your cheek, guiding your face up to make you look at him. In your shiny, pain-ridden eyes, he is trying to find an answer to your condition, not wanting to pressure you to tell him if you don't want to.

"D-Draco", you stutter out between your sobs. "Shh..", he hushs you softly, his left hand stroking up and down your side in order to comfort you. "Take it easy, okay? Breathe in deeply. Whatever happened, I'm here for you. I protect you. Always."

Knowingly, you nod and wipe away some tears again, Draco helping you with his thumb. When you let your hand drop again, he catches your hand in his gently and wants to intertwine your fingers as his gaze falls on the still reddened wound on the back of your hand. His eyes widen as he sees the wound consisting of words painfully engraved into your skin. His mouth opens in pure shock. "What is that? Who did this to you, Y/N?!"

With a sad gasp you quickly pull your hand away, the expression on his face immediately falling since you are avoiding his touch and don't trust him with this. Only at seeing your scared face Draco notices that his last words became a bit louder and he is quick to pull you into a comforting hug again. "I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to scare you", he apologizes and places a kiss on your hair. "You know that you can tell me everything, Y/N. But if you don't want to, then at least show me your injury again please."

Silently, you escape his grip and lift your hand for him to see. He carefully examines the back of your hand, looking into your eyes here and then to see if his touch hurts. "U-Umbridge", you sob while he is still busy viewing your wound. At your words he raises an eyebrow in surprise.

"I-I was late for class and forgot my homework and then.. and then Crabbe sent me to her office. She.. She did-", you try to explain, but just can't find the right words. Draco caresses your cheek gently, apparently understanding what happened.

"I will kill her", Draco grinds his teeth, obviously fighting himself to hold back the anger that is currently raising inside of him like a burning flame. This woman dared to lay a hand on you and put you in such a state. And Crabbe won't get away with this either. Because of the tremendous anger, Draco is already getting up from the soft mattress, ready to fight.

"Please s-stay with me, Draco", you entreat him, not wanting to loose the warmth of his body next to you that manages to calm you down. At your words, his tense body relaxes and the boiling fire inside of him diminishes, but only slightly. Just because of you he's not already on his way to her office and give her hell.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry you had to go through this alone and I'm sorry for my behavior earlier", Draco starts to ramble, feeling guilty for not being able to protect you.

"You couldn't know. I-I really don't want to talk about it anymore.. Can you please just hold me, Draco?", you sob and he does what you asked him to do right away. His arms pull you closer to him and the delicate, fragrant scent that emenates from him calms you down, lowering your cries.

"I will never let you go", Draco whispers quietly, reassuring you that he will defintely never let you get hurt again. Not on his watch even if that means that he has to stick to you every second from now on, then so it will be.

[nextdoor-neighbors]

What Friends Are For (Pt 2)

Link to Part One!

Link to Part Three!

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/being under the influence, references to sex, fingering

A/N: here’s part two! i got a few requests for this, and honestly, i might continue this one and make a part three, if you guys like it. lemme know! :)

Things are different, there’s no denying it.

Not bad different. Just... different.

Ever since you lost your virginity to George, you’ve found yourself paying more attention to your best friend. Not that you hadn’t always been paying attention to him, but before, he was just George. A friend to go to for a laugh, a shoulder to cry on, or just someone to sit with quietly while you both studied. He was always there, a steady presence in your life that was unwavering. Someone you always wanted to be around because of the happiness that he’s brought you.

But now, he’s all of that, plus more. You’ve found yourself noticing the little, physical things; things you never noticed before. Like the way his lips curve up into melt-worthy smirk whenever Fred says something stupid, or the way he spins whatever he’s holding between his long, slender fingers - whether it be his wand or a quill or something else - when he’s thinking hard. Or, in class, when he leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest, how his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt.

It’s been a few days since it happened, and it’s been your and George’s little secret. You’ve been thinking about it quite a bit, probably more than you’d like to admit. In class, at meals, and when you’re sitting next to him whenever your friend group hangs out. You ache for the feeling of his lips against the sensitive skin of your throat as he’s inside of you again, but you don’t know how to initiate it, which - you admit - is kind of stupid. After all, the hard part was telling him that you were a virgin still and implying that you wanted to have sex with him. So, why were you suddenly so nervous to do it again?

Now, you’re sitting with your friends in the common room. You’re positioned on the floor between Fred and George, while Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Lee Jordan complete the circle. You really should be working on homework during your free period, but per usual, the twins had gotten all of you sidetracked quite a while ago.

“I heard there’s a Ravenclaw party tonight,” Lee says, “We’re going, right?”

“Of course we are. Ravenclaw parties are almost as good as ours,” Angelina replies with a smile, nudging Fred. Maybe you can talk to Angelina. You’ve never been super close with her, but she’s a great friend and someone you know you can trust. You want to ask her for advice on George, considering the relationship between her and Fred, even though you’re not sure what their relationship is exactly.

Fred bursts into some rant about how your group will need to load up on some good drinks before you go tonight, and while he does so, George gets your attention by tapping his finger on your thigh. You look over at him, your heart somersaulting when he smiles at you. The feeling catches you by surprise.

“Are you gonna go?” he asks, quietly, so only you can hear. While the rest of your friends never pass on a party, you sometimes hang back, or you only go to make sure they get back to their rooms safely after they drink way too much. George has stayed back with you a few times, even though you protested and told him to go have fun, to which he responded that he always has fun with you regardless of where you are. The first night that he hung back with you and skipped a party, the two of you spent several hours shrinking all of Fred’s belongings just enough so that it would be irritating but so it wouldn’t be noticeable at first. It’s one of your favorite memories with George to this day, laughing with him for hours, alone in his dorm.

“If you go,” you say without thinking.

He smirks slightly, eyes flitting down to your lips momentarily.

“I’ll make sure you have fun, don’t you worry.” He winks before turning back to the group.

Butterflies erupt inside of you, and you can’t help but wonder what kind of fun George is implying that you’ll have. You can only hope.

The rest of the day passes painfully slowly, your mind far away from school, instead focused on the party.

Finally, it’s nearing time to leave. You’re in your room with Angelina, Katie, and Alicia, who are all getting ready, but you have no idea what to wear. You want to look good and to maybe catch someone’s eye.

“Ang, what do I wear?” you ask.

“Ooh, I have the perfect outfit in mind.” She grabs something from her trunk before walking over to yours and sifting through it, finally pulling out a simple black tank top. “Here!”

You look at the black mini skirt she hands you, half horrified, half intrigued.

“C’mon, you’ll look hot!” she insists, “You’ll be able to pull any guy you want tonight.”

Your mind immediately goes George, but you push the thought away and decide to start getting changed. Soon enough, you’re dressed, and you spin around so your friends can see the outfit from all angles, per their request.

“You look so good!” Katie exclaims.

“Do you have your eye on anyone specific?” Alicia asks, “Because the boys aren’t going to be able to take their eyes off of you tonight.”

You blush at her words, and again, you picture George from a few days ago, smiling at you as you lay on the bed, watching him get redressed.

“Uh, no. No one specific,” you lie.

The four of you finish getting ready before heading down to the common room, waiting for the twins and Lee so that all of you can head to Ravenclaw Tower together. You hear the boys before you see them, and they come down the stairs laughing loudly. George stops laughing abruptly when he lays eyes on you, pulling his lower lip in with his teeth as his eyes search your body.

“Hello, ladies,” Lee says, winking at the group of you, “Just as a reminder for the evening, I am single-”

“Oh, lay off, Jordan,” Fred snickers, sliding an arm around Angelina’s waist and starting out of the common room. Lee, Alicia, and Katie follow them, leaving you and George at the back.

You look over at George, who’s looking you up and down once again. Part of you doesn’t want to go to the party anymore, and instead just stay back with George, alone, but you know it’s too late for that. Plus, after what he said earlier, you want to see what he has in store.

“You look bloody amazing,” he says, leaning down by your ear as you walk quietly down the halls.

“Thank you,” you answer him quietly, smiling and hoping that you don’t turn too red.

Neither of you say much else on your way to the party, but upon entering the Ravenclaw common room (after the seven of you had to figure out the answer to the riddle), you see that the party is already in full swing.

There are cheers upon seeing your group’s arrival, because everyone knows that a party isn’t a party without the Weasley twins there. But, tonight, it seems like Fred’s attention is focused on Angelina, and when George’s hand rests on your lower back to guide you through the crowd to where the drinks are located, you’re optimistic for how the night will go for you.

“Look,” you practically yell to George over the music, pointing across the crowd to Lee, who’s already making advances on some Ravenclaw girls in your year.

George laughs and shakes his head as he opens two bottles of fire whiskey, handing one to you. Your fingers brush against his as you take the bottle from him, and you take a long swig to try and calm your sudden nerves.

“C’mon,” George says, leaning down so you can hear him, his lips brushing against your ear. You shudder as you feel his breath against you, and you’re filled with desire for him. “Care to join me for a dance?”

You take another drink before nodding and following George to what you could consider the dance floor. Right away, he takes his place behind you, resting a hand on your waist while he holds his bottle with the other, leaning forward into you.

You immediately lean back into him, feeling his body heat against your back, which again, makes you think of your night together the other day. His fingers tease the hem of your tank top as the two of you move slightly to the music, and you feel him close to your ear again.

“I’ve been thinking about the other night,” he says, his voice low. You let your eyes close for a moment as you take another drink and sink back into him. With fire whiskey being as strong as it is and your low tolerance for alcohol, you can already feel its effects working on you. And it’s causing you to want to drag George off into a corner and do what you want with him - even moreso than you wanted to when you were completely sober.

“Me too,” you admit, grinding back against him. You feel his grip tighten on the hip that he’s holding.

“And especially with you looking like that, there’s no way I’m going to be able to keep my hands off you.”

You turn around to face George, looking up at him, your faces inches away from each other.

“Then don’t,” you say, teasingly, before bumping your shoulder against his as you pass him to go get another fire whiskey.

You don’t know how much time has passed, or how many drinks you and George have had, but what you do know is that you’re having the time of your life, grinding against George on the dance floor, not caring who sees. Before long, though, George is grabbing your wrist and guiding you out of the crowd, out of the common room, and you know exactly what both of you have in mind.

“Georgie,” you say, stopping in the middle of the hallway, which is almost too quiet compared to the loud party you just came from. George stops and turns around to look at you. His cheeks are flushed, and his red hair is sticking up in practically every direction. You know, in the back of your mind somewhere, that the two of you will need to talk about this eventually, but right now, you just want his hands all over you.

“Yes, princess?”

Your heart somersaults at the pet name. You gaze at the broom closet door to your right, and without a word, you grab George’s hand and drag him into it.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, you and George pounce on each other, mouths against each other in hot, messy kisses, his hands sliding up your skirt and gripping your thighs, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pulling him as close to you as possible. You can taste the fire whiskey as you kiss him hungrily.

He backs you up against the wall of the small closet, and you get the sense that you’re about to see a side to George that you’ve never seen. He was gentle before, when he took your virginity, and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the desire or both, but whatever it is that’s making him push you against the wall or kiss you as if it was the last time he was ever going to, you’re enjoying it.

You moan against his mouth as he pulls your panties aside and pushes his fingers inside of you, pumping them at a steady pace.

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he groans, and just as you’re about to try and respond, the closet door opens.

“George?”

“Y/N?”

George pulls his fingers out of you and backs away as you tug your skirt down in embarrassment, still aching for George, but then you see who it is.

“Oi, find some other closet!” George snaps at Fred, who’s standing hand in hand with Angelina and gaping at the sight of the two of you together. “This one’s occupied!”

“Are you two-” Angelina starts, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement on her face.

“What, friends can’t snog in broom closets?” George replies before you can even think of what to say. And there it is: friends. Even though it’s what you are, part of you still hates to hear the word. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have some unfinished business.”

George shuts the door, turning back to you, and you can hear Angelina giggle from the other side of the door as her and Fred walk away. You know you’ll have a lot of explaining to do later.

“Where were we?” George grins at you, stepping forward to close the gap again, but you put your hand on his chest to stop him. As much as your relationship with him is confusing you, there is one thing you’re not confused about, and that’s how much you want him. But, you don’t want anyone else walking in on you. You got lucky that it was only Fred and Angelina who found you.

“Let’s go back to your room,” you say, “The last thing I want is Filch finding us next.”

George laughs and opens the door to the closet, guiding you out, his hand resting on your ass.

“I suppose,” he mock-whines as you walk down the halls, and you look over at him, admiring how hot he looks.

While you’re still figuring out what exactly your feelings for George are, you do know that if passionate snogging, sex, and getting fingered in broom closets is what being friends includes, you’re okay with being just friends.

At least, you think you are.

[embywolf]

Zelink Week Day 5: Domesticity

Okay so here goes: I suck with grammar stuff, maths/physics are not my strong point, I know nothing of birthing and I've never written anything for fun like this. I had the idea a while ago and it might not work as I decided to try and fit that idea into the prompt for today. I'm very nervous to be posting this and I may well delete it later but for now, here is my first ever attempt. Also no idea how to format it on Tumblr, or at all if I'm being honest but figured I'd add a line as this came out longer than I expected ^_^;

I'm rambling now, can you tell? *Hovers over post button*

_________________________

Day 5 – Domesticity

She had his hand in a vice like grip, knuckles turning white. It ached, but not as much as his heart did at the sounds of her panting and pained screams. He kissed the side of her head where her hair was matted to her face with sweat. His emotions were all over the place but at the same time there was nowhere else he would rather be right now. As much as he hated her to be in any form of pain, he knew it was temporary and would be so worth it.

He murmured into her ear “You’re doing so, so well my love. Not much longer now, you can do this”

She panted hard and fast, anticipating the next contraction. He was perched on the edge of her bed, one leg laid straight alongside her, the other on the floor. He had one arm around her shoulders, hand rubbing soothing motions down her arm while the other was either placed on her stomach or, when her contractions started up again was held tightly in her grip for support.

From her parted legs and bent knees, Impa, her most trusted and loyal friend peeked above the white sheets that were draped over her. She grinned at the both of them before looking straight into Zelda’s eyes “I can see the crown! Another few good pushes and she’ll be with us”

Zelda whimpered. She was so very tired; she wasn’t sure how much more pushing she could do. As if Link had read her mind he spoke softly against her cheek “I know you tired, love. You’re so strong and we’ll soon get to meet our little girl. A few more pushes, can you do that for me?”. Zelda nodded, heaving out a massive breath as she could feel the tension of another contraction beginning.

“Zelda, I need you to give a nice big push with your next contraction” Impa urged. Zelda clenched Link’s hand once again as the contraction came over her. She strained and grunted so hard into the push that her whole face became red and heated and Link couldn’t help but be in awe of her strength. He didn’t think it was possible to love her more than he did right now in this moment.

Although the pregnancy wasn’t exactly planned, they both knew that they had wanted children together eventually. It was a given knowing that she was the reigning sovereign of Hyrule and it was expected of her to have an heir. As was tradition, there always had to be a Zelda successor, so as soon as they found out about the pregnancy everyone had begin called the baby Little Zel (they hadn’t officially decided on a name if they weren’t sticking with tradition, but it was better than called her an ‘it’ or ‘she’).

“Good girl, keep pushing!” Impa urged, the excitement rising in her tone “Her heads out! Continue your panting until you feel the need to push again.”

Link placed the hand that had been running up and down her arm to the side of her head, pushing lightly to encourage her to rest her head against his shoulder. He closed his eyes and run his hand through her hair, humming quietly in an attempt to try to sooth his wife. His wife! How did he end up so lucky? He thought absently.

“Link?” Zelda breathy voice broke through his thoughts

“Hmm?” He stopped his humming at the sound of her voice, opening his eyes to glance at her.

“Thank you for being here for me… for us” she says, placing one hand on her belly. He kissed her sweaty forehead and looked deeply into her eyes “There is no place in the entire world that I would rather be right now. Thank you for letting me be here for the birth of our girl – our daughter, Zelda.”

Her lips curled up in a brief smile and she hummed contentedly at his words before her face scrunched again as her next contraction overcame her.

“One more big push” Impa exclaimed and Zelda tensed her shoulders, sat up slightly and heaved.

“Hear that, Zel? One more big push and she’ll be with us” he was rubbing circles between her shoulder blades now, doing what little he could to somehow try and ease even a fraction of her pain.

“Keep pushin-“ Impa was interrupted as Zelda let out a noise between a shout and a wail. An ear-piercing cry broke out into the room as Little Zel took her first breaths of Hyrulian air.

“She’s here!” Link choked on a sob, catching Zelda in his arms as she flopped back on the bed, panting hard.

“She certainly is!” Impa grinned as she tended to the new born babe. She had checked her airway to ensure it is clear and listened to her strong heartbeat. “She’s a healthy, beautiful baby-“ she started as she began to wrap her up ready to present her to her parents when Impa noticed something… unexpected… “boy” she gasped out in surprise.

Impa placed the boy in his mothers arms who had tears flowing down her face and the biggest smile graced her features. She bundled the baby up looking lovingly down into his face and said in the most heart-warming voice “Hello my boy” she breathed out in a sort of laugh sob “hello ourboy” – she was looking at Link now who was freely crying and looking between both his son (his son! Hylia, he has a son!) and his wife. He placed his hand on top of the babies head, cupping it slightly and rubbing the fine, sand coloured hair there as Zelda leaned in towards him. He kissed Zelda’s head again and looked down at the bundle in her arms, awed and stunned. He was swept up in the feelings of love and pride in the strength of his wife growing this beautiful little life in her body and going through the pain of birthing. “Hello, son” he said in a breathy whisper.

---------

“What does this mean, Impa?” Zelda asked as she nursed her son, who apparently had the appetite of his father. Link was still sat beside her on the bed watching Zelda take to motherhood like a natural, completed besotted with his little family.

“I.. I’m not sure” Impa stood at the foot of the bed which had since been cleaned since the birth. “I plan on speaking with the elders and consulting some of our Sheikah texts to see if this has ever happened before in our history. I suspect not, something this significant would surely be common knowledge among us.”

Link glanced up at this “So you think that Zelda having a son is significant in the eyes of the goddess and not merely a matter of biology?”

“You know the legends as well as I, Link. You know that Hylia incarnate is always female as is the nature of maternal bloodlines” Zelda wasn’t looking at either him or Impa, she was fascinated watching her boy as he greedily suckled. She didn’t care either way that he way a boy, he was hers and she was so totally and utterly in love with him.

“Now that I know he is nursing properly I think it is time to take my leave and investigate this little miracle” Impa smiled warmly “it is also advisable that baby has skin on skin contact with his parents to help with bonding” She looked pointedly at Link “Both his parents”. She stepped towards the door before looking back at the little family “Oh, and your highness? I think you may need to consider a different name for him. Little Zel hardly seems to suit him, don’t you think?” She grinned and made her way out through the door, leaving both doting parents cooing over their new addition.

Once they were alone the little Hylian hiccupped softly, Zelda looked towards Link with pride in her eyes as he stared down at the boy and laughed lightly at the cute noises he was making. “I think it’s time this little one gets some bonding time with his father, don’t you?” She said as she shifted on the bed, cradling the baby gently and holding him out to Link. For a brief moment the baby wriggles at the change in position, stretching his limbs before snuggling up into the crook of Link’s arm. He yawns and one of his outstretched arms meets with Links hand, his tiny fingers curling around one of his fathers. Link choked on a sob as Zelda rests her head on his shoulder

“We need to name him”

“A significant name for a significant boy”

“What do you suggest?” He asks gently, her face falters at that. She has no idea. Neither does he.

“I.. I really don’t know. Any names I can think of are all girls names and that would be assuming we broke with tradition and didn’t use Zelda. Like Hope or Harmony – something that signifies the fact he was born after the calamity was vanquished.”

“You say something significant, right?” To which Zelda nods “What about ‘Rise’ as in surp-rise? After all he certainly is a surprise”. “Link please, be serious.” She looked at him with a raised brow.

“Okay, what about Finn. As in the end of the calamity?”

“No, he doesn’t look like a Finn”

“Miri like ‘Miracle’?”

“Nope”.

“Hmmm” Link ponders for a while, mummering to himself “He was born in a time of peace, where balance has been restored and tranquillity reigns –“ Link cuts himself short. “What about Quill? As in Tranquillity. That’s what his birth represents Afterall, tranquillity after a hard-won battle”

Zelda looks into the face of the child in his arms, sleeping peacefully nestled against his chest. “You know, I quite like it. It suits him. What do you think, Quill?” Zelda smiles after testing the name out loud and as if he was in agreement one of the babies cheeks scrunched up adorably, the edge of his mouth raising slightly as if he was smiling.

---------

Once Zelda and Quill had been given the all clear by the Doctors the new family were allowed to leave the infirmary and go back to their suite. Quill had been sleeping soundly in the bassinette that was placed by Zelda’s side of the bed which gave Zelda chance to rest herself. She was exhausted and sore, and as much as she wanted to keep just staring at her new son her body was struggling to stay awake. She fell asleep listening to Quills gentle breathing as Link was emptying the bags that they had taken with them to the infirmary when her labour had started. As he went to put something away in their bedroom, he noticed that Zelda had fallen asleep and stood leaning against the doorframe to just watch and take in the beautiful sight before him. While they slept Link showered to try and wake himself up a little. Zelda’s labour had been intense and long lasting, he has stayed up with her throughout it all and he was determined to let her rest while he took care of the both of them.

He came out of the bathroom with his hair down and messy from being towel dried, said towel draped over his shoulders to avoid getting his bare back soaked. He was wearing only his trousers as he busied himself around the room. He stopped what he was doing when he heard Quill start to stir and he seen Zelda’s face twitch slightly as if she was about to rouse from her sleep. Deciding she had had nowhere near enough rest yet Link picked Quill up from his basket and held him against his chest mumbling slightly as to not wake her.

“I’m here, little one” he said softly. “Mummy is resting right now and we need to be quiet to let her sleep, okay?”. He walked to the other side of the bed where he carefully lay down beside Zelda, his back propped against the pillows and his son resting against his chest. The boy calmed down upon contact with his father as Link patted his back soothingly. Quill burped then bunched his hands in the towel around Links shoulders who let out a small chuckle and began stroking his back softly. This repetitive and calming motion lulled both to sleep and it was Zelda that roused first, opening her eyes to the sight of Link and Quill snoozing together. It struck her then just how much like Link he is, he certainly had his hair and maybe his eyes. From the little glimpses Zelda had gotten his eyes looked like they may be blue but he had his mother’s nose and the same chubby cheeks that Zelda had had as a child.

She lay there in silence, enjoying the moment when a soft knock came at the door. Link roused from his nap and Quill stirred but didn’t awaken. “Come in” Zelda spoke softly but loud enough to be heard through the door, which opened as Impa popped her head around the door glancing around to look for the room occupants. “Your highness?” She questioned as Zelda rose from the bed wincing “I can come back at a more convenient time?” She said as she noticed Zelda emerging slowly and carefully from the bedroom

“Not at all Impa, please take a seat. I trust you are here having sought council with the elders?” Zelda lowered herself into one of the lounge chairs slowly, using the arm rests to support her before gesturing for Impa to take a seat at the chair opposite. Link, upon hearing Impa’s voice joined them in the lounge area, Quill’s head resting gently on his shoulder as his little legs were curled beneath him against his fathers chest. Link had draped the towel in such a way to cover most of his chest but was sure to leave the shoulder Quill was resting on exposed. He nodded and smiled warmly at Impa as he handed the baby to Zelda as he started fussing quietly. When he was settled in her arms Link glanced down at her lovingly and gave her a quick peck on the head and rubbed his knuckles softly against Quill’s cheek before heading back into the bedroom to retrieve a clean shirt.

Once he was fully dressed and had bought a tray of tea to the table between the two women, he took a seat next to Zelda as she slowly rocked the baby in her arms.

“As you both know I warped to Kakariko this afternoon to consult the ancient texts and speak with those much older and wiser than myself.” Impa began, her head tilted to one side as she watched the family in front of her fondly.

“Did you find anything of interest” Link piped up; his voice slightly hoarse from sleep.

Impa nodded, a small smile gracing her lips “I did.” To which Zelda looked up into Impa’s eyes and awaited what she had to say.

“So, as I suspected, have a male heir has never happened in the history of the royal family blessed by the goddess. I found an old passage in one of the very ancient tomes that we barely look at due to its fragile state. If I translated correctly, which according to the librarian I did, the passage spoke of a triangle that varies from the triforce in that it is more of mathematical equation rather than anything else. It speaks of forces that occur in nature and being able to calculate the distance, speed and time of an object which, apparently, if applied to the triforce gives us the answer to the calamities end.”

Zelda raised her eyebrow “but the calamity has been defeated in the past before, and still there has been no male heir born to the triforce of wisdom afterwards. So why now?”

“Because the equation has never been fully solved before” Impa says with a knowing smile. It wasn’t often that Zelda was slow on the uptake so Impa decided to continue, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from the table in front of her in order to demonstrate what she means.

“If we place the triforce pieces in their usual positions with power at the top, wisdom bottom left and courage bottom right…” Impa draws the triforce as it has always been known “…and then we apply the mathematical formular gathered from the texts…” She draws a horizontal line below power then a vertical line between courage and wisdom “…we get the equation for defeating the calamity permanently.” She glances up at the two of them where she is perched on the end of her seat.

“I.. I’m sorry Impa but I don’t quite follow.” Zelda admitted honestly, to which Link was grateful as it meant he didn’t need to admit out loud that he too was confused - If Zelda wasn’t quite grasping it then he didn’t feel so stupid after all.

Impa wrote the equivalent formulae to accompany the triangle, also adding an ‘x’ between the vertical line. The equation read p = w x c. Zelda gasped slightly as she finally understood “Wait, so you’re saying that… that”

Impa nodding again “that’s exactly what I’m saying. The prophecy suggests that for the calamity to be beaten permanently, never to be reincarnated again then wisdom and courage need to combine. This has never happened before as previous incarnates of wisdom and courage have never been together in this way and certainly never producing offspring.”

Zelda looked to Link then, speaking softly almost in a trance “our son is a blessing from Hylia telling us that it’s over. And not just for this generation but for eternity!” Zelda’s eyes were misted up as she looked at Quill.

“In order to overcome the bane of power, wisdom and courage must combine not only in battle but also in surrender. The coming together of the two produces a force so great that not even malice incarnate can prevail.” Impa quoted from the text and gestured to the boy in Zelda’s arms.

---------

A few weeks later once Zelda had sufficiently recovered from birth and the new family had had some bonding time, the champions and the Sheikah scientists were invited to the castle for a private celebration of both the end of calamities and to introduce Quill to their friends before a formal announcement to the kingdom.

The gathering was held in a private pagoda in the castle courtyard near to the gardens with a spread of delicious foods to cater to everyone’s tastes. The group were sat together awaiting the arrival of the guest of honour. They stand when they see Zelda and Link approaching the table and as they get closer they could see Zelda’s eyes were already misty with tears of pride as she stood in front of all her most treasured friends, with Links left arm resting across her lower back and her son in her arms facing away from the group.

“Everyone” Zelda spoke in a soft but clear voice “Link and I are so very happy that you are here to join us. Your bravery and skill have proven vitally important to get where we are today, and as I know you are all aware the calamity is over and shall never plague this world again.” Everyone around her nodding and made small, gratifying sounds of approval. “It is now, in this time of great peace and tranquillity that I would like to introduce to our blessing and proof of our everlasting victory.” At this, Zelda jostled the boy in her arms carefully. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Quill!” Zelda beamed as she turned Quill in her arms so that he was facing her treasured allies and friends.

Most of the group cooed and ‘awwed’ at Quill, and even Revali dropped his snide remarks to look over the baby with a small nod of his head to Link. It was then that realisation hit him, as he watched his wife's wide smile and beaming face as she conversed joyously with those her held most dear – they had done it. They had given Hyrule the peace it so desperately deserved after all this time. This was now the age of tranquillity, and all across Hyrule the people would be able to safely indulge in a life free of calamity, a life of true domesticity.

[wreckofawriter]

Bubblegum

pairing: remus lupin x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: language, none fluffy

summary: you know you annoy remus but that doesn't stop you from trying to get close to him

a/n: i actually like this fic more than I thought I would... anyway I'm actually motivated again so posts should be more frequent. I plan on writing the next part for pulled apart next

    Remus has always been very good at ignoring distractions. Considering who his best friends were that was really no surprise to anyone around him. He had ignored parties and screams and fights and pretty much everything else you can imagine. He could probably read through a tornado if one happened to strike the castle. But we all have that one thing. 

    The classroom was quiet. The scratch of quills on parchment and the occasional shuffle of feet filling Remus’s ears as he did everything in his power to focus on the test in front of him. Potions was a subject he excelled in, yet he had barely finished the first three questions and now sat practically fuming in his chair, his mind clouded with irritation. 

    A pop once again resonated through the room and no one else blinked, the quills continued their march. Remus gripped his own feather so tight he thought it might break in two. A few moments later  the sound greeted his ears again and he whipped around. His eyes fell on you, your hair bouncing lightly as you tapped your foot to some inaudible rhythm. Soft pink bubble gum lined your lips, the corpse of a bubble being tugged back into your mouth for rebirth. 

    “Would you cut it out?” Remus hissed drawing more than one pair of eyes. 

    You tilted your head in confusion, reminding the boy slightly of a puppy. You glanced behind yourself quickly and then pointed a finger at yourself in a silent question. 

    “Yes you.” Remus scorned, “Stop popping your bloody gum.” 

    Maybe it was because of how rude he had been or maybe it was the cute red tinge of anger on his cheeks, either effect led you to the same action. You gathered the treat in your mouth inflating one of the bigger bubbles you had made that day, popping it between your teeth.  The noise was loud like the snap of a whip. You smiled softly at the boy's stiff reaction, “No.” You hummed turning back to your work. 

    Remus was pretty sure you had verbally slapped him across the face. 

    The library was crowded with people, almost every chair was taken, faces shoved into books and fingers stained with ink.

The quiet atmosphere was broken by James’s loud groan, “Godric, that test Slughorn gave us was dreadful.” he complained, his head hitting the table in front of him. A chorus of hushing which he paid no mind to followed. 

“Tell me about it.” Remus mumbled his mood still sour from the period before. 

Sirius snapped to attention, “Since when do you have trouble in potions?” 

Remus sighed, rolling his eyes at his friend's amusement, “It wasn’t the test you idiot.” 

James turned his head, his cheek now squished against the wooden surface, eyebrows scrunched.

“There was this girl.” 

“A girl!?” Both boys shouted in unison, James’s head popping up from the table. They both were shushed aggressively. 

Remus scoffed, “Not like that-”

“Was she just so hot you couldn’t focus?” Sirius mused, the smirk on his lips mildly irritating.

“Did she have the top few buttons of her blouse undone? I damn near fainted last time Lily did that.” James chimed in.

Remus felt his cheeks go hot, “What? No-”

“So who's the lucky lady Moony?” 

“Yeah I can’t believe you didn't tell us.” James pouted. 

    “I don’t fancy her, you idiots!” Remus snapped, earning multiple glares.

    James and Sirius’s smiles dropped, disappointment finding their faces as all the excitement they had just been tempted with washed away.

    “I knew it was too good to be true.” Sirius mumbled halfeartly. 

    “So what was it then?” James asked, “If you don’t fancy this girl what’s the issue?”

    Remus huffed, “She was being bloody annoying that's the issue. She wouldn’t stop popping her gum, it is one of the most infuriating things I've ever experienced.”

    Sirius quirked a brow, “That's it?”

    “James was there.” Remus continued, “He gets it, it was absolutely dreadful.”

    James shrugged, “I don’t remember hearing any popping.” 

    Remus gauffed, “Seriously? It was so loud.” 

    “I probably just tuned it out,” He hummed, “Why didn't you just ask her to stop?”

    “That's the problem.” Remus groaned, “I did and she was totally rude and popped it right in my face.” 

    “Sounds kinda bitchy.” Sirius mumbled, “Any chance you know who she is?” 

    Remus racked his brain, “I think her name is y/l/n something, I'm not sure.”

    Sirius paused, “Y/n y/l/n?”

    “That sounds right.” 

    Sirius whistled, “She is wicked hot.”

    Remus scrunched his face in mild disgust, “Is that all you have to say on the matter?” 

    Sirius nodded returning to Transfiguration book,

    Remus sighed, “You guys are no help at all.”

If you had heard the conversation that had just taken place you would have been sorely disappointed. In fact you probably would have stormed up to your dorm and pouted fiercely. 

Remus Lupin was someone you knew well. Probably too well considering he had never even looked your way until the period before. It's not like you were a stalker or anything, he was just… really cute.

He had caught your attention in 4th year and never seemed to let go as he slowly reeled you in with hazel eyes and soft smiles. 

You would count his freckles in charms and imagine running your hands through his hair in potions, he never seemed to notice the pair of eyes boring into his curls. You were pretty positive that your crush was hopeless. I mean this was Remus Lupin you were talking about, sure he wasn’t as sought after as Black but he definitely had his fair share of admirers.

Your friends, the few you trusted with important information that is, were always pushing you to take some sort of action on your crush. You ignored them for the most part claiming it was useless and he would probably end up with someone else anyway. Yet year after year he was still single. It was a bit shocking in fact. Almost as shocking as the words you had spoken to him earlier that day.

You buried your head in your hands for the third time that minute, embarrassment and regret were eating you alive. What the hell is wrong with me? You thought. 

Adrianna, who was one of your closest friends and the one seated next to you for the horrific event was snickering behind her hand attempting to turn it into a cough as you glared at her. 

“I mean at least you talked to him.” She chidded and you threw your book at her. It was her turn to pout.

You groaned, your head hitting the table infront of you, “I’m a fucking idiot.” 

Adrianna shrugged, “Well yes.” 

“Why did I say no? Why couldn’t I just say yes and apologize like a normal person?” You complained.

She shrugged again, “Maybe it’s just in your blood to be a dick?” This time she caught a quill on her forehead. “Sorry, sorry,” a pause, “You know you could use this to your advantage,”

You raised an eyebrow, “How the hell would I manage that?”

“You could apologize, you know like a normal person.” she giggled.

You cringed at the thought, “Why would I do that?” 

Adrianna rolled her eyes, “Because you were an asshole. And most people apologize after being an asshole.”

You scrunched your nose, “Do you have any idea how awkward that would be?” 

“You’re helpless.” She mumbled returning to her work. 

You pouted, “Well you're not very helpful.” your mind began to turn as she continued her essay, one you had already finished the night before. Then suddenly an idea struck. 

You marched up to Remus with confidence you didn’t actually have. Your anxieties buried beneath a blanket of boldness. Your hands shook, stuffed deep in your pockets. 

“Yes?” He repeated reminding you that you had indeed called his name. 

You glanced around at his friends, their eyes locked on you with amused smiles. You put on an uncaring mask and rolled your eyes at Potter whose smile only grew, “Could we talk away from your goons?”

Remus grinned a bit as Sirius gave an over-exaggerated gasp, “Yeah sure.” 

You nodded quickly turning and starting towards the staircase. You didn’t catch Remus raising his eyebrows back at his friends and he didn’t see you release a shaky breath.  

Once you both stood in the narrow staircase leading to the deviations room you turned back to Remus who stood two stairs below you, the height advantage made you feel powerful. 

He didn’t seem particularly bothered by it, “You here to apologize?”

Your eyes widened, he seemed snarkier than he had been in potions, almost like he was challenging you, “I was, but now I don’t believe I will.” you clipped back.

Remus rolled his eyes, “Can I leave then?” 

Panic struck you, this was not going well, “Actually I need a favor.” 

Remus was surprised, that was definitely not what he had expected.

You huffed, praying to whatever god was up there that this would work. “Can you tutor me in potions? I’m actually not all that good at it and I know for a fact you are.” One of those statements was a blatant lie. Potions had been one of your better grades for a while now but he didn’t need to know that. 

“Why should I help you?” Remus asked, taking a step towards you, the height advantage lessening. 

You weren’t really sure how to answer that, “I suppose you shouldn’t.” You sighed and Remus smirked, “But you will.”

He raised his brows, “And why's that?”

You popped your gum enjoying his flinch, “Because you are just so sweet.” you said it with a slight coo like you were talking to a young child.

Remus didn’t respond as you brushed past him.

“Meet me at the library tomorrow after lunch and don’t be late.” You called over your shoulder.

Remus stood in the stairwell staring where you had just stood. He let out a heavy sigh , his heart beating louder than it should have been. 

Part of you thought he wouldn’t even show and that instead you would sit in the library like a fool as Remus laughed about you with his friends. So when you entered the library and found the boy already seated at a table, textbooks and notes placed neatly around him you were surprised. You fought a wide smile skipping beside him and reaching for the book in his hands. Before you could snatch it away Remus snapped it shut and moved it aside. 

“Take a seat y/n”  He spoke, smirking at you, clearly happy about his quick reflexes. 

You rolled your eyes sitting beside him and glancing at the papers in front of you. They were notes, neatly taken, no doodles in the margins. 

Remus leaned over your shoulder, “I think we should start with the basics and see how much you already know.”

It was only then that you realised you were going to have to pretend to be terrible at potions. You swallowed thickly, “Sounds good.”

You surprised yourself with how easily you lied. You slipped up only twice, brushing both off as lucky guesses and contuinuting with your stupid little curade. 

Remus ate it up, showing you simple questions and walking you through them as one did a child. It would have bothered you if he wasn’t leaning over your shoulder with his breath soft on your neck. He smelt like chocolate and fresh parchment, his curly hair so close you could reach out and run your fingers through it if you wanted to. 

You walked back to your common room in a slight haze, your stomach full of wings.

Remus peered after you curiously. Your actions confused him, he could’ve sworn you had already known the practice problems he gave you. Yet you had struggled, almost comically. He supposed you were just really good at pretending to be smart. 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to pretend to be stupid?” You groaned.

Adrianna shook her head too focused on the note sheet in front of her to really care about what you were saying. 

Your rambles continued regardless, “Do you think I’m going to have to fail my next test so I can keep Remus as a tutor?”

She sighed fed up as she tried to study over your speaking, “You know you could just ask him out like if you weren’t such a pussy.” 

You glared at her lacking real malice, “I’m not a pussy, I’m just creative.”

“Pussy.” Adrianna coughed quietly and you rolled your eyes, she was only a little bit right. 

As your study sessions continued Remus found himself growing strangely fond of you. The banter you offered was entertaining, despite the fact you took every chance to annoy him. Your sarcastic comments made his lips twitch into a grin. Your response to his own remarks; a scrunch of your nose, making him chuckle. You still seemed a bit off and for the first week, Remus wasn’t sure what it was. It was clear that you were hiding something, faking something but he just couldn't place it. 

A pattern began to settle in front of him quickly. Your slip ups became a bit repetitive. And by slip ups he really meant your success. You were good at potions. In fact probably better than he was. Remus wasn’t sure why you were pretending to be terrible at a class you clearly were doing well in, but he was even more confused on why he didn’t call you out on it. 

For some reason he was dead set on keeping you at those study sessions. In fact he used a nearing test as an excuse to meet you daily. He debated his actions in his own mind most nights, why did he keep wasting his time to teach you things you already knew he wondered. He always came up empty, even more lost than he had been before. 

You had thought Remus to be smarter than he was. The fact that he hadn't picked up on your seemingly obvious act was astounding. You supposed it only helped you if he fell for it hook line and sinker, right? You started meeting him everyday in the library, he was very adamant about you passing the upcoming test and you weren’t going to complain, it gave you more time to count the freckles that dusted his nose anyway.  

You hummed quietly to yourself, fiddling with your quill. It was the night before the test and Remus had been insistent on you studying late into the night. So now you sat in the Gryffindor common room under the hazy light of candles with notes you had memorized ages ago. 

The crack of the fire was a pleasant background noise to your tune as your eyes locked onto Remus whose hair had fallen in front of his eyes yet again. You smiled softly watching him scribble final notes onto his Transfiguration assignment. Your gum was slowly losing its flavor on your tongue. 

Feeling your gaze he looked up, “You want me to quiz you on them?” He asked, gesturing to the notes under your arm. 

“Sure.” You reposed picking up the paper and passing it off to him. 

Remus watched you carefully, answers came easily most of the time but every once and  while you would struggle, himming and hawing as you pretended you didn’t know how to respond. He played along until you finished the note sheet.

You were confused when he put it down, “Aren't we going to go over the ones I got wrong?” 

Remus sighed, “Why would I do that when you already know them?”

You furrowed your brow, “I got them wrong.”

“You know them though don’t you?” He smirked, “You know all the stuff that I’ve been teaching you.”

You laughed but there was no humor to it, “I don’t know what you mean.”

He only smiled more, “Yes you do.” 

You just sat there, your mind was spinning, you hadn’t really planned for the end of it all. You had no clue how you were going to explain this. 

“I’m curious.” Remus said, “Why go through all this trouble?” 

You just started at him opening your mouth to answer only to close it again. 

“Come on y/n don’t leave me hanging.” He grinned and you felt like you were going to throw up. 

“How long have you known?” You asked quietly.

Remus shrugged, “About a week.” 

You hesitated, “Wait, why didn't you say anything sooner?”

He shrugged again, “No reason.” 

It was your turn to smile “No really Remus, why waste your time with me?” You questioned. 

He sighed, “It wasn’t really a waste of time.”

“It wasn’t?” 

Remus felt weirdly trapped, “You still haven't answered my question.” 

“Fine you really want to know?” You said chewing your gum anxiously. 

He nodded.

“I wanted to hang out with you, and I wasn't really sure how to ask.” You huffed picking at your nails. 

There was a beat of quiet, the fire popped behind you.

“Now you tell me why you didn’t say anything earlier.” You said trying to divert from your embarrassing confession. 

Remus pondered his answer for a moment, “Because I like you.” 

Your eyes widened, “I thought you found me annoying.” you laughed lightly.

“Oh no I do.” He grinned leaning closer to you as you scrunched your nose in annoyment. “You know you could have just asked me out instead of pretending not to know anything about potions.”

You ignored the heat in your cheeks as Remus leaned just inches from you, “Where’s the fun in that?”

He chuckled, “I supposed there isn't any.” his breath was warm on your skin and your eyes slipped shut as he closed the distance between you. 

Remus’s lips were smooth and soft against your own, his hand cupping your cheek lightly. You ran your fingers through his hair as he tilted your chin back, deepening the kiss. 

He hummed lightly, you tasted like bubblegum.

taglist:

@evyiione @accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @obsessedwithrandomthings @coldlilheart @suseptiable-but-siriusexual @inglorious-imagines @the-natureofme @trickylittlewitch @layaa-layaaa

Masterlist

[fanmoose12]

the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 7/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Сhapter 6

Life had never been particularly kind to Hange Zoe. Tragedies and heartbreaks followed her ever since the day she was born – kicking, screaming and nearly killing her own mother. Her mother never recovered from that blow, her health diminishing while vexation with her own child grew.

That day gave a start to Hange’s life – and to the endless stream of misfortunes she had to face.

Those misfortunes frequented, the amount of bad days increased as Hange was becoming older. But even as a child, driven solely by curiosity and fascination for the world, uncaring of the workings and the rules of the society around her, she had her fair share of frustrations. They usually appeared when her father was around – luckily, due to the nature of his work, he very rarely was. Hange didn’t know her father well, he was always absent, always somewhere else, doing something incredibly important, shaping the future of their country. He was many things - a leader, soldier, hero. But he was not a father. Hange had but a few memories of him, and after all these years she had forgotten the sound of his voice, couldn’t for the life of her remember if his hair was as brown as her own, or had she inherited that vivid color from her mother. But what Hange could never forget, what was etched into her memory for all eternity was the look in his eyes – full of incomprehension, bewilder, disappointment – that he always aimed at her. No matter what she did – excitedly gushed about her studies, showed him a shiny rock she found or urged to go and see the frog she caught, her father had the same reaction, always told her the same thing,

“I expected better from you, Hange.”

Those words were the first dagger that was buried in her chest. But it was far from being the only one.

Her father died before she reached her eleventh birthday. And despite the mourning clothes mother had forced her to wear, despite the endless eulogies she had to sit through, Hange didn’t feel the same sadness that everyone around her did, she didn’t – couldn’t – share their pain or understand their grief. Her father meant something for all those people, but to her he was just a stranger, an unpleasant one at that. When he died, a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Without him, it was so much easier to breathe.

But her sorrows, her frustrations— sadly, they didn’t end with her father’s death.

Once Hange finished her studies, completed her training, she was sent to the outside world, far away from Marley. And for a moment, for one fleeting moment, she was happy, excited to do what she always wanted – learn and explore. But she was not meant to busy herself with research, to familiarize herself with different cultures, she was sent to these distant lands as a soldier, a weapon of great Marleyan Empire. Instead of books and quills, she held a rifle and a knife. And the only thing she learnt was how much blood her motherland was spilling on the foreign soils.

Sleep was coming harder to her after that, her dreams were haunted by visions of red, by screams of pain and anguish. She had become a soldier, her hands made for creation were now covered in blood. Her brilliant mind was now broken by the horrors she had faced.

And so Hange decided to cover herself in thick armor, to hide behind a smile and false happiness. The bad days persisted, losses following after her like a shadow, chasing like an infatuated lover, but she didn’t let it break her, continued moving forward with her chin raised high and her lips curled up.

However, despite the positive attitude she had adopted, there were lots of days Hange considered bad, awful even – the day when she learned just how Titans were created, what price Eldians had to pay for that; the day when she realized that her teacher, brilliant Tom Ksaver was one of those so called shifters, that his days in this world would end abruptly; the day when she received her first wound and spent the night in infirmary, wallowing in pain; the day when she killed another human for the first time and saw the light fading from someone else’s eyes; the day when Wall Maria fell and she witnessed just how much destruction and devastation she helped to bring to this little island; the day when Mike and Nanaba died; the day when her squad perished; the day when she had to leave Paradis behind; the day when she was brought back.

There were lots of days Hange considered to be bad. But nothing – absolutely nothing – could compare to the fucking shit show that was waiting for her next.

___

This fateful day was off to a good, if only slightly weird, start. As always she was woken up by a knock on the door. However, this one was very different from Moblit’s – less rhythmic, and much louder. In fact, it didn’t sound like a knock at all, more like someone was kicking the door repeatedly.

Confused and still sleepy, Hange rolled from the bed and went to greet her guest, not bothering to put her glasses on. Behind the now opened door she found… a shape that could or could not belong to a human. She raised her hand, mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and darted back inside the room, blindly searching for her glasses.

Once the specs took their rightful place on the bridge of her nose, Hange returned back to the shape that now took the form of a young, blonde man. She trailed her gaze down, to the tray he was holding. There were plates with pastries, omelet, sandwiches, sausages and a cup with brown liquid that had steam coming out of it.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke through her confusion, “But do I know you?”

“Not… yet?”

Hange couldn’t understand if his words were meant to be an affirmation or a question. Nevertheless, she took a step back, letting him in.

He went straight to setting up the table, humming under his breath as he did so. Hange watched him work, not knowing how to feel – puzzled or amused. She tried to catch the boy’s gaze and ask for his name, but, considering the amount of food he brought and how exquisitely delicious it looked, Hange already had a pretty solid guess about the persona of her visitor.

“Be my guest,” he gestured to the table after he finished setting it. Then, as an afterthought, he added, “My name is Niccolo.”

“I guessed it already,” Hange smiled, taking a seat. Her stomach growled, as the delicious smell of homemade food entered her nostrils, her mouth filling with saliva even before she took a fork in her hands. She forced herself to look away from the food, however, directing her eyes at the man who had prepared it all. “Thank you for the food, but may I ask what is the occasion?”

Niccolo didn’t answer right away. He took his time, dragging the chair to sit on the other side of the table, then absentmindedly fixing the napkin and pushing the plate closer to Hange.

She didn’t urge him, patiently waiting for him to start talking. She had a feeling that whatever he came here to tell her was going to be extremely interesting.

And Niccolo didn’t disappoint.

“I’ve spent most of my life hating Eldians. Like every good, conscious Marleyan, I believed them to be devils and abominations. When these people captured me I thought it’d be better to die than live among them. But then I’ve got to know them better, I cooked for them, I’ve talked with them, I… grew to like some of them.”

He took a pause, and Hange used this moment to push some food into her mouth. Just as she expected – it was finger-liking good. And it tasted even better, because she also had an intriguing story she could listen to while eating.

“And there is one person that I like most of all, more than anyone I had ever met. I’ve realized my feelings long ago - perhaps, they were born the moment that I set my eyes on her, perhaps, it was destiny that brought both of us together. And to think of it – a Marleyan and an Eldian. If someone had told me years ago that I’d fall for a devil from Paradis, I’d probably punch that person in the face, but look at me now…”

A Marleyan and an Eldian? Hange had heard that story before. Hopefully, Niccolo’s would have a happier ending.

“I wanted to confess to Sasha for a while now, but the time was never right, and I kept stalling… You know, I thought there was no reason to be hasty. but then Jean told me what happened during the attack on Liberio, how I almost lost Sasha and my chance to tell her how I truly feel, so…” Niccolo looked Hange in the eyes, his gaze shining with the love he had for Sasha. “I came to say thank you. For giving me another chance.”

Oh, what a sweetheart. Hange felt her chest warm at the sight of such devotion. She always was a sucker for a young, tender love.

“And?” she leaned over the table, eyes alight with curiosity. “What did Sasha say? She returned your feelings, right?”

“Um.” Niccolo brought a hand to his neck, rubbing the back of it. “I didn’t do it, didn’t, eh, confess. Yet.”

“And when—”

“Today,” he said, confidence returning to his voice. “I planned a dinner for Sasha, invited her family and friends. Actually… I wanted to invite you as well.”

Despite regret that spread through her, Hange curled her lips in a comforting, gentle smile. “Not the best idea, but I appreciate the thought. And,” she added, her smile turning into a cheeky grin. “I’ll be expecting another visit from you, where you’ll share all the details.”

Hange wished she could see it for herself – Niccolo standing before Sasha red in the face, stuttering his undoubtedly sweet confession, Sasha gasping, with her mouth opening in shock, their audience watching it all with a mix of mortification and amusement. Hange wished she could have the privilege of being the part of that audience, alongside a certain Captain, who would cringe horribly at the scene, unfolding before their eyes.

Hange wished— for many things. Alas…

“I’m sure your plan will work out perfectly, but just in case,” Hange winked, snickering, when she saw red spread through Niccolo’s cheeks. “Good luck.”

“Knowing Sasha’s friends… I’ll need all the luck I can get. But for now, I also need to get going, the dinner won’t prepare itself. So thank you once again.” Niccolo stood up, bowing his head. “For everything.”

“Make Sasha happy, that’s all the thanks I need.”

Niccolo nodded, showing her a smile. He headed to the door, and just before he left the room, Hange gave him thumbs up, wishing him luck once more.

As the door behind him closed, she slumped back in the chair and continued munching on her breakfast, a blissful expression appearing on her face.

So… not only a great cook, but also a romantic? Sasha was such a lucky girl.

___

Her next visitors were just as unexpected, and their conversation - a lot less pleasant. It was in that moment that Hange started to suspect that this day would take its rightful place in the collection of her awful ones. But she was far from knowing just how horrible it had the potential to become.

The moment that Armin tumbled inside the room without knocking, throwing the door open in his haste, and Mikasa trailed after him, her pace much slower but just as unsure, dread settled in Hange's stomach.

"Hange-san!" Armin was speaking in a quiet, but barely controlled voice. His chest moved rapidly, as he struggled to keep his breathing slow and even. Hange swallowed her worry, her thoughts running at a lighting speed. What could possibly have happened to make him so panicked? She chanced a look at Mikasa - the young girl wore the same guarded expression she always did, but her eyes kept shifting from side to side, hands clasped together tight enough to make her knuckles white. "We need to talk."

Hange gave them a cautious nod and stood up from the bed, the book she was reading moments ago all but forgotten now. Pieck's warning was loud in her mind, as her fear grew. Marley... they couldn't have attacked so swiftly, right?

Hange gestured for her guests to take their seats at the table that stood near the window. Absentmindedly, she wondered where Moblit was. He didn't show his face to her even once this day. What could he be so busy with?

"Your guard told us that you had a visitor today," Armin stiffly began. "Mind telling us who that was?"

Hange frowned, cocking her head to the side. If the guard told Armin about the visitor, didn't she also mention that it was Niccolo? The cooking boy had to be known around the barracks, if he was that close to Sasha.

"Niccolo came by, he wanted—"

"You mean, Marleyan came by." Armin corrected.

"Sasha's and your friend, if I understood properly," Hange protested.

"But he's Marleyan. Just like you."

So, Armin was accusing her. And not only her, but Niccolo too. Accusing them of conspiring, but for what purpose? By which means? Against who? Hange was so confused. Hange didn't understand. Armin was always so rational, so coolheaded. What could possibly make him so frantic? What drove him to such desperation, to such wild guesses?

"Armin..." any other time, with any other person who trusted her just a fraction more, Hange would have taken their hand in hers. She'd caress it gently, try to calm them down, but in Armin's state... Hange worried that it'd make matters even worse. "Armin," she repeated, lowering her voice ever so slightly, making it sound more trustworthy. "What happened?"

Armin didn't answer, lowering his eyes - in shame or indecisiveness, Hange couldn't guess. And so Mikasa took the word.

"Chief Zacklay is dead," she said. And if that wasn't mind-blowing enough, she added, "Eren escaped from the prison."

"Fuck."

What else was there to say? Everything was turned on its head - Paradis' biggest defender seemingly had gone completely off the rails. Hange wondered if the threat of Marley invasion was still the scariest crisis the island would have to face. The absence of the clear answer was… unnerving.

“We don’t know what to do, or where to look for Eren. That’s why… Armin hopes that you’ll shed some light on that.”

Armin hopes – an interesting choice of words. He didn’t think, didn’t speculate, didn’t hypothesize. He hoped – exhibited a desperate, illogical kind of feeling. So… it was that bad, huh?

“I know nothing about it.” Hange said truthfully. “As you’re aware I’m not even allowed to leave this room.”

“We know.” Mikasa agreed softly, pressing her hand to Armin’s. “But it’s hard to come to terms with it.”

“He is your friend.”

Hange didn’t understand what they were going through, she never had someone that close to her destroy the trust between them, but she knew it wasn’t easy. Eren had changed, Eren had already lied to them once, but he was their friend, they’ve spent years, believing him and in him. They couldn’t change their opinion of him in just one night, they couldn’t let a few mistakes kill what they had created over the course of their lives.

She couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how her friends felt. Was it just as hard to believe in her betrayal? Did Moblit and Levi feel just as lost and unsure? Were they just as desperate to come up with a reason for her behavior? Whatever they did, whatever they felt, Hange hoped she would never have to learn about it. She was miserable enough as it was.

But Eren knew what his friends were going through, had to be aware of the consequences of his actions, of what he was doing to his friends, how much he was hurting them. What drove him to his decision then? What happened to the boy with bright eyes and big heart?

“Do you have any idea what Eren is going to do?”

“I don’t think it’s Eren’s doing, Zeke is probably lying to him, but…” his eyes were still cast down, his finger weakly tracing some vague shapes, when Armin muttered, “Hange-san… do you by any chance know what rumbling is?”

Hange froze. Her throat constricted acutely, creating a quiet, choking sound. For one second, one terrifying second her heart stopped, ceasing its usual rhythm.

Rumbling? Did she hear correctly? Was Armin speaking the truth, did he mean what Hange was worried he meant?

Rumbling.

A short, but scary word. One that was mentioned in but a few frowned upon books. One that was only whispered amongst the members of Titan Society, too horrifying to speak it loud and clear. The word that meant death, the end of everything they knew about their world.

“We were meant to experiment with it,” Armin explained, wriggling his hands. “Nothing too serious, nothing too… devastating. Just a showcase of the power we yield, to keep the other nations on their toes. To keep them away from us. But ever since Zeke had appeared, Eren became so…”

Even since Zeke had appeared, Eren had decided to act on his own, distanced himself from his comrades and friends, joined forces with his brother. Hange would have believed, would have been convinced that the boy she once knew was incapable of such cruelty…

But Liberio, the heart of her homeland was standing in ruins. And it was Eren’s doing.

She narrowed her eyes, gave a scrutinizing look first to Armin, then to Mikasa. Hange really, really hoped that she was wrong. Against all sense, she hoped that they would drive away her doubts, that Eren’s closest friends knew him much more intimately than she ever could, that their opinion of him was right and just.

“Do you think he is capable of proceeding with it?”

“No,” Armin answered.

And the same time Mikasa said, “Yes.”

Yes, said the girl, who was in love with Eren, who was devoted to him above anything or anyone else. She said yes, spoke it quietly, in pained voice. But without a shadow of a doubt.

Hange shuddered.

She— they had to stop this. Somehow. Anyhow. Before it was too late.

"Eren can't activate the rumbling on his own," Hange mused out loud, biting at her thumb.

"Right," Armin confirmed. "He needs the bearer of the royal blood."

And that was good, that meant not all hope was lost. To go through with the rumbling, Eren had to find Zeke, and Zeke was out in the woods with Levi. He would never get away from Levi, and so the world was safe, but—

Zeke wasn't the only one with special blood. There was also—

Fuck.

"Historia, where is she?"

Armin's eyes widened, a gasp escaping him as he came to the same conclusion as Hange. "She arrived in the town... This morning."

And that was the morning Eren decided to make his escape. Hardly a coincidence.

"You don't think..." Armin began tentatively, his eyes pleading Hange to say that it was a joke, that she was wrong in her assumptions. She wished she could give him that reassurance.

"I don't know."

She didn't know what Eren's plan was, what was his goal, what was Zeke’s role in all of this. She didn't know what means Eren would use to ensure his success.

Would he go to his brother, would he trust him enough? Or would he go to Historia and risk hurting his friend?

And how Eren would get to them? Both Zeke and Historia were heavily guarded - Zeke as the hostage, Historia as a Queen and a future mother. But who was the easiest target?

With Levi being in charge of Zeke, Historia was an obvious choice, unless—

Hange swallowed heavily.

Unless Zeke was planning something too - some rouse, or a play, something that would fool Levi, make him lose his focus.

Make him lose Zeke.

And if that worked—

"Where is Historia?" Hange repeated that question. Hidden in the forest, theoretically, Levi was safe. He could hold his own in a fight against Zeke, Hange has seen him do just that in Liberio, even if some part of it was a spectacle. She also had seen Zeke after Shiganshina, personally tended to his wounds that refused to heal properly because of the amount of his injuries. Back then, every hiss of his was like a melody to Hange, a miniscule payback for the carnage he had born.

Zeke was far away from Eren, guarded by Levi. Hange had to trust him with that task. She had to hold onto hope that Levi would be safe. But Historia... Historia was another matter. She was here, close, and as good as her security was, they were not on par with humanity's strongest. They had to protect the Queen first.

"Historia chose this day to arrive because of Niccolo's invitation. She's probably in his restaurant, along with the others." Mikasa said.

So she wasn't alone, surrounded by soldiers and friends. Would that be enough to hold off Eren? Possibly, although, Hange wasn't sure.

But Eren was not alone, he had followers, the ones Moblit was so worried about. Would they be just as amicable? Would they not hurt the ones Eren cared so much about?

"Historia is our main priority. We have to go to the restaurant and make sure that—"

"We?" Armin interrupted.

Hange deflated. Of course, how could she forget? She wasn't their superior, their commander, their friend. There was no we. She was an outsider. She always were.

"I didn't mean to—"

"No." Mikasa curtly said. "We need you, Hange-san. We do," she repeated to Armin, who was already opening his mouth with a protest on his tongue. "We need all the help that we can get."

Armin studied Mikasa for a moment, then turned to face Hange, regarding her pensively. The intense look of his big blue eyes was unnerving, almost impossible to hold without flinching. There was a man Hange once knew with the same intent gaze. Oh, how she wished to see him again. He'd know what to do in a shitty ordeal they were facing right now.

"You're right," Armin sighed at last. "We might not have same goals or even enemies... but our concerns align. With you on our side, our chances are much higher. So, Hange Zoe," Armin offered his hand for a handshake. "Will you help us?"

An unlikely alliance then, huh? Hange could work with that.

She shook his hand with a smile.

___

Something was turning, twisting inside Hange on the way to the restaurant. Even the air seemed stiff, the landscape outside of the carriage bright, pretty but ominous all the same. Liberio - her city - looked just as lively before it got crushed.

And today, right now, she couldn't get that image out of her mind. The streets she walked through hundreds, thousands of times; bakeries she visited day after day; parks and playgrounds she admired from afar - everything was now gone, turned into debris, into nothing but broken stone and crushed glass.

And all of it - all the destruction, pain and blood and death - all of it was a courtesy of one Eren Yeager, the boy with bright eyes and passionate soul.

Would the same thing happen to another city? To all the cities in the world? To hundreds and millions of—

Hange took a deep breath, stopping herself before she screamed in fury, ripped something apart, overturned the carriage, or worse - started crying.

No. Nothing of the sort would happen to the other countries or their people. They would stop this— this catastrophe and Eren, and Zeke, and whoever else was involved. They would not allow another tragedy.

In the meanwhile, Hange did her damnest to focus on small, trivial things - the inside of the carriage, the bumps on the road, the subtle similarities between Mikasa and Levi, the sunbeam playing across Armin's face - anything to keep her mind from other, much scarier things. It didn’t really work.

"We are here," Armin announced, cutting through her morbid thoughts. He put a hand on her elbow - a tentative, but heartfelt gesture. Hange wondered just how disturbed she must have seemed to earn it.

"Let's go," she shook off all the worries, all of her fears. They weren't needed. They would slow her down, serve as a distraction, nuisance. And today, she had to be on her best. "We have no time to spare."

Mikasa and Armin seemed to be of the same opinion, and so the three of them left the carriage and started moving towards restaurant's entrance.

The place was much bigger than Hange had imagined it to be. She expected to see something small, but snug, something homely. But Niccolo's restaurant was grander than most buildings on Paradis. It didn't quite reach the luxurious and exquisite nature of restaurants in Marley, but— clearly, that was Niccolo's inspiration.

The restaurant - as big as it was - was packed, the merry sounds of laughter were heard even from the courtyard. People were celebrating, people came here to have some fun. Hange knew just how rare those instances were. And she hated being the one to put a stop to it. But she'd rather ruin someone's day and be wrong about her assumption or ruin someone's say and be right, than— Than not ruin someone's day, be right and waste precious time.

The three of them walked through the dark brown door, and instantly Niccolo stood in front of them, appearing seemingly out of thin air.

"Armin, Mikasa! I didn't think you'd make it! And you brought Hange with you!”

The happiness on his face was so endearing, so genuine. Hange was wrecked with sympathy for him. Niccolo was just a boy, who loved a girl, and decided that today of all days he'd make his feelings known. Unfortunately, the day he had picked turned out to be one of Hange's bad ones.

"Congratulations once again," Hange made sure to put on an extra gentle smile, in vain hope that it would soothe the effect of her next words. "But that's not why we are here."

"No?" the happiness was gone from Niccolo's face, suspicion overtaking it, but only for a second. Next came anger. "I thought we were over this," he leveled, glaring at Armin. "I thought we've already discussed everything you wanted. And I'm not going to deal with this bullshit again. Not today."

Niccolo whirled around, his leg raised to, no doubt, dramatically storm out. Mikasa's gravelly voice and a tight grip on his wrist stopped him. "If you don't want to ruin this day for Sasha, then take us to Queen Historia. Right now."

Oh. Even Hange felt shivers at that tone of voice, and the threat wasn't even directed at her. Was Levi teaching her his tricks? Or was every Ackerman just naturally good at being so scary?

Niccolo yanked his hand out of Mikasa's grasp, massaging it with a wounded expression. He didn't try to argue once again, though. And soon Hange, Armin and Mikasa were following after him to the banquet hall.

He took them through the lengthy hallway, past kitchen and washing room. At the edge of it, Hange could see two familiar figures - one tall, another short. They were standing next to a wooden cupboard, snickering quietly to each other. As they came closer, Hange realized that Jean and Connie were holding several bottles of wine, clearly having trouble choosing which one to open.

"Niccolo!" Connie yelled out, waving the bottles over his head. "Which one is better?"

"That's not for you, you idiots!" Niccolo snatched the bottles from their hands, his retort vicious— and more shaken than the situation truly called for. Any other day, Hange would have found it weird, would have paid more attention to it. Any day, but not during her bad day.

So she shrugged it off and after giving Jean and Connie a painfully awkward wave, continued following after Niccolo.

Once they were inside, Hange couldn't help but marvel at the amount of people gathered. There were lots of civilians, none of which Hange could recognize. And among them, there was a sea of green, representing the members of Survey Corps. Most of these faces were known to her. One of those faces in particular swiftly left the conversation he was having, gluing himself to her side.

"Hange-san? Armin? What is going on?"

Moblit had his mouth open, his eyes shifting between the three of them. Hange didn't know what he had seen there, what face she was making, but Moblit didn't ask another question, silently falling in step with them.

Sensing the change in the room, Jean and Connie hurried to do the same.

They all stopped in front of the table in the corner - one near the window and with a nice bouquet standing on it. The table was occupied by two - giggling Sasha, who was retelling some story in a rather animated fashion, and Historia, who listened to her friend with a joyful smile.

Looking at her, Hange couldn't help but be amazed. Last time she saw the girl, she had just become a Queen, still doubtful and unsure in her position. And, although, the woman before her eyes didn't look exactly royally – what, with her simple dress and long, loose hair - but Historia had certainly grown, become tougher, more confident in her abilities. However, she was still as pretty as a picture, and the motherhood had enhanced her beauty even further.

"Your Majesty," Hange was the first to take the word, but after that she faltered, not sure how to proceed further. Should she bow? Kneel before the Queen?

She was spared from making that decision. Because right in that moment, right when she was meaning to open her mouth and explain everything to Historia as curtly as was possible— her day turned from simply bad to straight up shitty.

"You!"

Familiar voice. The anger in it wasn't unusual too. Never before it was directed at her but—

Hange recognized the pride of Marley, the future Warrior right away. It was all she was allowed to do before getting promptly tackled to the ground.

"Traitor! Liar! How could you do that to us! How could you side with the devils?"

Gabi kicked and punched anything she could reach, accentuating her every word and accusation, but the blows were barely registered by Hange. She felt no pain, only huge amount of relief.

Gabi was furious, Gabi was loud. Gabi was alive and well.

A month, a whole month she spent worrying about these kids, only to have fate throw them back together in the most ludicrous way possible.

“Gabi,” despite her kicks, despite her loud shrieks, Hange smiled happily. She pulled the girl closer, wrapping one arm around her, while her other went to softly brush the girl’s hair. “Gabi, are you alright? You’re not hurt?”

“And why would you care?” Gabi suddenly sniffled, voice muffled by Hange’s shirt. “You never cared about us, did you? Only about those devils!”

“Gabi…” Hange sighed, finding herself at a loss of words. How could she explain something so complicated? Something she couldn’t understand herself?

Luckily, an unexpected help arrived.

"Don’t judge too harshly, child. You may not understand it yet, but humans' hearts are tricky things. No rules apply to them, they never listen to reason. They don't act like we want them to. They create emotions, make our lives brighter, and at the same time... So much more confusing. And accusing someone of caring for the wrong person… it’s just not right."

Hange looked up, surprised to see a middle-aged man standing before her. She was fairly sure that she had never met him before, but his eyes, his manner of speaking... Somehow, they were familiar.

Before she could connect the dots, however, her attention was ripped away once more, this time by Niccolo's deep voice.

"Eldians, Marleyans," he scoffed. "All of us are vile, devil is in each and every one of us. We're all imperfect, but all of us yearn to find the place where we belong, where we're loved. We don't choose who these people would be, we love others for what they are, not what they represent, or what side of the conflict they come from. And if loving my enemy is treason, I’ll gladly go down as a traitor."

Niccolo glanced back, meeting the eyes of the one he had dedicated this speech to. Hange caught Sasha’s bewildered, loving look and smiled, feeling her eyes go misty.

So, Marleyan and Eldian? Was a union like that even possible? Four years ago, on the dawn of the day when she left the one she loved the most behind, she'd say that it would never work out. But... times were changing, right? For the better, or so, at least, Hange hoped.

"Hange-san..." Moblit crouched beside her, painfully awkward. "Erm..."

Oh right. Only now, Hange realized that she was still lying on the floor. And that in on itself wasn't so unusual, but most of the times... she didn't have a ten or so pairs of eyes watching her.

Hange cleared her throat. Then, as absurdity of the situation caught up with her, snickered quietly.

"Hey, Gab," she stroked the girl's side. "Would you mind letting me get up?"

Gabi rose on her elbows, considering Hange. The frown on her face didn't vanish, but— her eyes weren't so full of rage anymore - clearly, the speeches had left an impression on her.

"I'm still mad at you," she said, lip stuck out petulantly. "But... I'm glad that you're here. Because it means they're coming for us, right? Commander Magath and Reiner— Reiner will save us, right? We just need to wait for a little longer, until they arrive."

They're already here, Hange wanted to say. If Pieck came, there was no way that Reiner would want to sit that one out— or be allowed to, anyway. Marley was coming, their guns blazing. But in the room full of members of the Survey Corps and Queen herself, Hange couldn’t say that, wasn’t yet ready to betray her country like that. She could only kiss Gabi's brow and promise, "You will be alright."

Reassured, Gabi nodded and let Hange get up. As soon as her feet had touched the ground, Hange found herself with someone once again wrapped around her. This time, however, the embrace was that much warmer and a lot less violent.

"Falco," she carded her fingers through his sandy blonde hair. "I take it you've missed me too?"

"You can't imagine," he spoke, his face pressed to her stomach. "Going on missions with Gabi is a torture! I could barely keep up with her!"

"You'll learn with time," Hange looked back, exchanging a look with Moblit. "It's not that hard to deal with annoying shits like us, right, Mob?"

He tugged at his collar, strategically evading her curious eyes. "Perhaps, after a very long while..." he reached out, patting Falco's shoulder. "And with the help of a good alcohol stash."

"Oi!" Hange slapped his arm. "He's only a kid!"

Moblit shrugged. "He has to know what is waiting for him."

"Don't listen to him," she gently consoled Falco. "He's joking."

Although... Hange had to agree with Moblit on that. If Falco continues running after Gabi like that, he'd have his first grey hair by the age of fifteen.

With the boy still clinging to her, Hange surveyed the room, swiping her gaze across Sasha and Niccolo, who stood side by side, wearing identical, enamored expressions, to Connie and Jean, who were whispering something to one another, and finally to Mikasa and Armin, who hid Historia behind their backs.

Right. She didn't come here for a cheerful reunion. The fate of the world was at stake. Hange pulled herself together and— pulled Falco away from her.

"Sorry, dear," she fondly ruffled his hair once again. "I need to go now, but I'll get back to you."

Could she do, though? Could she return to these kids, ask them to be placed under her care? Should she do it, considering that she didn't even know what was going to happen to her, where would she be one hour from now? Was it wise then to drag kids along with her? They were sharp and strong, more than capable, and they did survive on their own for so long— wait.

How did they manage to survive on a foreign soil, all by themselves? And why they were here today, in Niccolo's restaurant of all places?

"I guess these ducklings are yours?"

Oh. The familiar man that Hange had never seen was back, now standing in front of Hange, showing her a kind smile.

"We haven't been introduced, but it's hard to mistake you for someone else. Hange Zoe, right?"

"Right," Hange shook his warm, calloused hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Braus."

"The accent was a dead giveaway, huh?" he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He had a nice laugh, Hange decided, deep, heartfelt and genuine. She liked Mr. Braus, just as much as she liked his daughter.

"I understand that you're the one who had taken care of my ducklings," Hange giggled, catching Gabi's very much unamused look. "Thank you for that."

"And thank you for saving my daughter's life. For that deed I could never repay you."

"That was... that was nothing. I did nothing, just happened to be in the right place, in the right time."

"It's only because of you that we're here, celebrating, instead of mourning. So," he gripped her shoulder tightly, his brown eyes staring into hers intently. "Let me express my gratitude, for that is the smallest thing that I can do."

"I think," Connie inserted himself between them, his mischievous smile lighting up the room. "This calls for a toast!"

No more than a second later, Jean had produced a bottle of wine, opening it swiftly and skillfully. Once the bottle was dealt with, he filled a glass with wine, thrusting it to the person standing closest to him. Which— happened to be Gabi.

She took all but a tentative sniff from the glass, before it was roughly yanked out of her hands. The drink splashed everywhere as Falco hurried to finish it, before Gabi caught up and took it away from him.

There was just as a couple of droplets left, everyone watched the scene in amusement, until—

Until Niccolo screamed.

He pounced from his place, wrestling the bottle out of Jean’s hands. “It’s not for you, morons! I told you not to touch it!”

Ice spread through Hange’s veins, as she heard the desperation in his voice. If her first thought was the right one… she had to make sure of it immediately.

“Who that wine was meant for?” she seethed, grabbing Niccolo by lapels of his shirt, suffocating him in her white-knuckled grip and currently not caring about it. Everyone in the room tensed, Sasha jumping closer to them, but Hange didn’t care, ignored all of them completely. “Who that wine was meant for?” she shouted, shaking the boy like a ragdoll.

“F-for the military officials! It’s the good stuff, expensive, it was meant only for them!”

The good stuff, the best one they got, Hange reasoned. The next question was pointless, she knew the answer already, was the one who came up with this idea in the first place, but— Niccolo was a good guy, a sweet boy in love with a kind girl. Hange wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“What’s wrong with the wine?”

And that was it. That’s all she had to do to get to the bottom of it. One short, simple question, and Niccolo crumbled. He didn’t try to fight her, made no attempts to protect himself. He hanged his head in shame, avoiding the dozen pairs of eyes that now were boring into him.

“They made me do it,” he whispered, his hands, his lips— his whole body shaking. “I had no choice, you wouldn’t understand—”

Oh, but Hange did understand. Better than Niccolo knew. She knew how it felt to be forced to follow the current, accept every cruel tide. She knew just how frustrating, how painful it was to lose control.

So yeah, Hange understood. But she could not excuse.

However, she had no place to judge as well, she herself was a reason for so many tragedies and disasters. She couldn’t judge, and she didn’t have the time for it. The deed was already done, now they had to try and undo it.

“Who gave you the orders?”

The spine fluid, injected into wine, came from Zeke, that Hange had no doubt about, but Zeke was far away, deep in the forest, under Levi’s watchful eyes. So who had redistributed the wine? Who was the betrayer, the real culprit?

“It’s—”

He didn’t get to finish. For only now Hange had realized what had happened moments prior. Falco drank the wine. Falco. Drank. The. Wine.

Her heart thumping, Hange pushed Niccolo away, grabbing Falco’s hand instead. Armin, Mikasa, the Queen, let someone else deal with that shit, for now she had to try and delay the inevitable. She looked around, her eyes wild, mind racing. “Where— where is the bathroom or— or a—”

“I’ll show you.”

It was Moblit’s quiet, reassuring voice. He gripped her elbow gently, taking her away. Hange let herself be led, rubbing soothing circles into Falco’s palm all the while. She didn’t know what do, wasn’t even sure that spinal fluid can be taken out of someone’s system, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t at least try. Falco, sweet, smart Falco, he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be turned into a Titan, a mindless creature with no loyalties and feelings. Hange wouldn’t allow it, she was ready to do the impossible and then more to save the little boy.

Once they reached the bathroom, Hange set out to work - took off her coat, rolled the sleeves of her shirt, sat Falco down on a stool, pushed his head under the faucet, instructed him to try and rinse all the wine out.

It was possibly entirely pointless, Hange was pretty sure of it— but. What else could she do? Sit tightly and wait for the young life to vanish?

"That thing in the wine..." Moblit spoke up - calmly, but defeated, as though he had already surrendered to whatever tragedy that would befall him. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Hange tensed. Hange jumped to her feet, fisting her hand into Moblit's shirt so desperately, the fabric creaked in protest.

"Moblit," she croaked, her voice shaking, broken, eyes begging him to say that he was joking, that his inquiry was simple curiosity. "Moblit, did you drink that wine?"

"It was served at every government meeting. I couldn't refuse."

No. No. Hange couldn't believe, didn't want to believe it, Moblit— not Moblit, she didn't want him to fall victim to this, become another casualty in her long, extremely bloody career. Anyone else, but not— not him.

"It's the same tactic we used in Ragako village," she explained numbly. "Back then it was gas, this time the fluid that turns people into Titans was added into wine. It activates after Zeke screams."

"Ah," Moblit shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "If - when - I turn, you could experiment on me. Just— don't give me a stupid name like Sawney or Bean, I'd like, I think, I'd like to be called Moblit. If I'd still have some semblance of consciousness by that time, if not - you can call me whatever you—"

"Shut up." Hange choked, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She ignored them, glaring fiercely at him. "Shut the fuck up, Moblit, you will not turn into a Titan, I will not allow it, I'll do whatever I can—"

"Hange-san," he smiled, and it broke her heart. "It will be okay."

It won't. Because it was her damn creation, made to defeat faceless, unknown enemies. And now it was used against people she cared about.

She had to do something about it. With a start Hange realized that the solution was... fairly easy.

"Avoid Zeke at all costs." She told Moblit, urgency turning her speech more frantic. "Don't go near him, try— try to get away if he gets into city—"

But Zeke couldn't get into the city. Zeke couldn't get out of the forest at all, couldn't make a single move without Levi knowing it.

Levi was the solution. He would keep Zeke under his guard, he would keep Moblit, and the rest of them, safe. Hange finally could take a breath.

But the calm didn't last for long.

As soon as she returned to Falco's side to check on the boy's condition, a loud crash came from somewhere deep within the restaurant. Hange heard the sound of hurried footsteps, then a concerning scream.

She exchanged a look with Moblit. Both of them started running at the same moment.

When they tumbled inside the main room, they froze in shock.

Sasha's family, members of Survey Corps and among them— soldiers with rifles. Hange scanned the room once more, her eyes travelling further, to the table by the window. She breathed out in relief - Historia was guarded by Connie and Jean. At least, the Queen was safe.

But not the rest of them.

"Squad Leader Moblit," the ginger head took a step towards them, a too wide smile plastered on his face. Hange didn't like that man and his smile. And the gun in his hands. The gun that was now aimed at the ceiling but could be very well aimed at Moblit, or anyone else in that room. “You’re the one I need.”

Moblit inched closer too, his chin held high and eyes defiant. Hange didn’t miss the fact that his movement hid her behind his broad shoulders. Oh, loyal, caring Moblit. How could she leave him to his fate?

“I’m here,” he leveled to the redhead. “What do you need me for, Floch?”

If it wasn’t for the gun in his hands, or the smile on his face, the way Moblit spelled his name – the obvious aversion, unhidden contempt was enough for Hange to understand that this Floch guy wasn’t very nice. And, despite the Wings of Freedom on his back, he certainly wasn’t Moblit’s friend.

So. That was one of the famed Yeagerists? And the rest of them, the ones that held civilians on gunpoint were the part of the same group? Hange was so not impressed.

“You’re buddies with Captain Levi,” Floch continued. “That means you know exactly where he is hiding.”

“Perhaps.” Moblit nodded. “But what makes you think that I will tell you?”

Floch’s smile grew, and the gun that was held lazily in his hand, pointing at the empty air, moved. It was lowered down, its barrel now staring right at Moblit. But the gun didn’t stop there, it moved again, shifting just a little to the side. To where Hange was standing.

“Hange Zoe, right?” Floch tilted his head, so he could look straight at her. “I didn’t have the pleasure to make your acquaintance before, but I’m glad that life threw us all together. Especially now, for you see…” he lifted a hand, and a soldier took his place, his rifle raised, while Floch paced from side to side. “I’m not allowed to hurt them,” first he pointed at Jean and Connie. “Or her,” now at Historia. “I’m, however, allowed to do with the others whatever I want. And since hurting our dear Squad Leader Moblit wouldn’t bear the needed results…” he spread his arms, shrugging helplessly. “No one would miss a traitor, right?”

“Don’t you dare!” Moblit surged forward, shoulders shaking from the unbridled fury. But he made no more than a few steps, before he was immobilized, two soldiers coming from behind to grab his arms and twist them painfully. Moblit didn’t back up even then, continuing his fierce resistance. “Leave her out of this!”

“Ah, yes,” Floch chuckled to himself, observing Moblit’s struggling with morbid fascination. “The luck is surely on our side today. You will be useful after all, Hange Zoe. We will take you with us.”

No sooner than these words left his mouth, Hange felt a pair of hands around her, subduing and enabling to make a single move. She thrashed, she kicked, but to no avail.

“Floch—” Moblit grounded, pulling on his restraints.

“Don’t you worry,” Floch squeezed Moblit’s shoulder, showing him a look of feigned affection. “No one is going to get hurt, if you cooperate.”

No. They couldn’t cooperate. Cooperating meant leading Floch and his bunch to Zeke, and that meant leading them to Levi.

“Mob! Don’t listen to him! We can’t–” instinctively, momentarily forgetting about the arms that held her down, Hange reached out to him, trying to catch his eyes.

But Moblit turned his face to the other side, avoiding her gaze. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

Ah. Hange’s heart sunk, while Floch clasped his hands in delight.

“I’m glad you’ve made the right choice! And now,” he raised a finger, and Hange with Moblit were forced to move forward. “Let’s get going!”

___

Outside, the weather changed. The sun hid behind the heavy, grey clouds, the rain was now steadily falling down, creating puddles under their feet.

The gloomy weather further enhanced the trepidation inside Hange. The feeling, the certainty that something was going to get very wrong and very fast persisted, forcing her to grab the reins of the horse tighter, in vain hope of providing some miniscule outlet to her ever growing anxiety.

Despite the fear, Hange spurred her horse forward, doing her best to ignore the rifles pointed at her back. It was proving to be quite a vexing task, when the said rifles kept pushing her to move even faster but— it wasn’t the worst situation Hange had found herself in. That time when she and Zeke were captured by the enemy forces and put inside a fortified prison was so much worse. The prison had anti-Titan artillery surround the perimeter, they were alone and cut off from their allies. And still they managed to escape. Compared to that, a few Yeagerists were nothing.

Although, Hange had to admit – the stories did them no justice. In reality they were a lot more vile and disgusting.

But, apparently, Levi still trained some of them. And, boy, did he teach them well. One soldier behind Hange kept huffing, cursing the weather under his breath. Hange waited, and when he once again got distracted by the mud that splashed on his boot, she thanked Levi for his absurd obsession with cleanliness and acted, stealing that little moment for herself.

“Hey,” she leaned closer to Moblit who was riding right beside her, and whispered to him in a voice just slightly louder than the sound of the rain. “Remember that thing we did during Erwin’s coup-d'etat?”

Moblit winced, anxiety reflecting in his eyes. “When we punched people that were armed with rifles?”

Hange grinned. Atta boy, of course, he remembered. “I’ll give you a signal,” she nodded discreetly and returned to her previous position, now directing all of her attention on their fearless, redheaded leader.

“So Zeke is your main goal, right? You don’t actually need Historia?”

Floch scoffed, rising his nose up in distain. “The Queen is a back-up plan.” Wow, getting information out of them was that easy? Some devoted followers they were. Hange continued listening, eager to know what else Floch would reveal. “We’re not sure what exactly is going to happen, and Eren… doesn’t like hurting his friends.”

They weren’t sure what was going to happen. Only for these words Hange was ready to throttle each and one of them. What was going to happen? Mass destruction and death, a lot of unnecessary deaths.

But did these children care? Of course, they didn’t.

And would Zeke care about it? Hange wasn’t sure. Zeke was many things – cruel, violent, heartless, he never cared that much about other people. However, he was his father’s son, and, as much as he had loathed Grisha Yeager, Zeke still carried around the hero complex that his father fought so hard to plant inside him. Was it possible then that Zeke would be against the rumbling? Was it possible that he didn’t know of Eren’s true intention, that he blindly trusted his little brother?

Was it possible that their goals didn’t align? If so… then Zeke was a key player in this game of chess. He was a powerful figure they had to get on their side. If Hange could talk to him—

A loud sound, a crashing bang interrupted the flow of her thoughts, making her jump in the saddle.

That noise, it was similar to a thunder, but not quite. Hange knew that sound all too well, was the one who created the devise that was activated with the very same sound.

It couldn’t be— that noise couldn’t come from a thunder spear explosion. But… what other explanation was there?

“Let’s head there!” Floch commanded. “Something must have happened.”

Hange’s heart raced as they inched closer and closer to the place where the sound had come from. It wasn’t hard to find, the gory sight of the poor, wounded horse and the blasted cart was easy to spot.

They approached it slowly, and suddenly Hange froze, her eyes landing on something near the riverbank. Something that looked a lot like a body – a short one with strong stature and black hair—

“Moblit,” she whispered, begging him to clear her suspicions, to reassure her that she was mistaken.

But Moblit pursed his lips, and shook his head – brief, but resolute.

For a second, Hange froze, overcome with desperation and fear. Her heart stopped too, if just for a moment.

Levi, he couldn’t— but what if he did?

Ignoring the insistent shouts and strict orders to come back, Hange jumped off the horse, scrambling to get closer to the riverbank and to him.

She fell into the mud, uncaring of her clothes, of the mud she was splashing around. She felt nothing, the rain, the river, her captors, it all faded into background. She cared for nothing else, except the limp body in her hands.

Oh, please, please, please.

Her hands trembled as she turned the body to face her, careful as she could be. A bloody mess, her personal nightmare stared right back to her.

And in that moment— Hange felt her heart break, ripping, shuttering into thousands pieces. She thought she knew loss before, she thought she knew what pain was.

She was so wrong.

[botanicaljars]

Pinky Promise

• young!sirius black x reader

• (part 1/2)

• Sirius makes you pinky promise you something you would’ve have expected…

_____________________

You and Sirius are the least likely friends, you’re the quiet type who would rather stick your nose in a book and study whereas he would rather be doing anything but that. But here you are, six years into school and your friendship is still as strong as the day it begun.

“Okay Sirius, you are absolutely terrible at this,” you sigh, pressing your forehead against the desk in frustration, “Please, just focus on me and not trying to balance a pencil on your nose!”

You exclaim, snatching the pencil from between his fingers as you look up at him.

“Jesus, so uptight Y/N, yknow you need to let lose for a bit,” he suggests, swinging backwards on his chair.

“Alright, I’ll relax after we finish this muggle studies essay okay?” you reply, trying to compromise.

“How about…” he pauses for a second, putting his hand on his chin faking a thinking face. “You come to the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw party tomorrow?”

“No way!” You smack Sirius’s arm, “That is not happening!”

“I pinky promise I’ll come to every revision session you put on, IF! You come to this party.” He raised his pinky in the air, gesturing it out to you.

“Oh I hate you,” you lock your pinky against his, and shake. A few little sparks fly from your hands, the promise sealed, you pull your hand away from his, flipping the page of the book and pointing at the top line. “So, you need to memorise this, it’s that sentence that’ll help you pass!”

“Okay so. How am I going to remember this?” he asks, leaning into your shoulder, “I have no idea how to revise!”

“Read it like one hundred times and i think that’ll do it,” you reply, “That’s what I do anyway.”

“Right okay.”

_____________________

“Oh Alice please come to the party with me!” You beg, she lays on her bed, parchment and quill in hand, leaning upon her largest text book. Scattered around the room was loose sheets of parchment, clothes and socks.

“For the last time Y/N no way! I have better things to do that go to parties, i don’t even understand why you agreed to go with Black anyway?!” she retorts, throwing a crumpled up ball of paper at you.

“Oi! Don’t throw stuff at me Alice,” you laughed, throwing it back at her. “And he pinky promised that he’d come revise with me so!”

“Well…Good luck, I need to write to my parents about next weeks quidditch tournament! They wanted to watch Gryffindor play but I need to ask Dumbledore about it.”

“Well, you’ll need luck with that aswell!” you replied. “Are you sure you won’t come?”

“Positive.” she said, scribbling onto her parchment. “You look nice though! Have fun, and relax.”

You were wearing a simple pair of ripped denim jeans that sat just on your hips, a tank top that was quite old and a pair of converse that were probably older than you passed on from your mother. “Thanks, i think it’s kinda plain but, oh well.”

As you walked from your dorm you heard her shout “Please relax!”

_____________________

As you walked down the almost silent hallway, the peace was disturbed from loud music blaring from down the hallway, coming from the Ravenclaw common room.

‘Right c’mon Y/N, you can do this!’ you thought to yourself as you stepped a step closer to the painting. There was a Ravenclaw prefect stood by the painting holding it open for people as you had to solve a riddle to get through.

“Hi.” he stated, flatly.

“Hiya!” you said as you walked through the portrait into the loudness.

You practically swam through the crowd, searching for a certain curly headed boy but to no luck, he was no where to be found as far as you were aware.After about twenty minutes you were sat with a group of Ravenclaws you’ve never spoken to, downing fire-whiskey shots like there’s no tomorrow, by now you we’re definitely drunk, your vision split into two as you stood up, one of the girls had to steady you as you stood.

“Hey Y/N, I’ve been looking for you- Are you drunk?”

[theweasleysredhair]

CHLOE MY LOVE! congrats on 4.6k -- honestly not sure how you don't have a million more followers because your blog and your writing is freaking brilliant! so happy to have formed a genuine friendship with you :') brb getting emotional. anyway! for your event, could you write a little something with my love george with a few different prompts? is that allowed? 3 and 8 from angst, 10 from fluff? who's surprised, i'm all fluff, congrats again my darling you deserve it all x

thank you so so much angel!! 💕 of course i decided i had to do a fake dating drabble for you erica, i got v carried away with it too so hope you like a super long drabble that turned into practically a whole fic - enjoy! ❤️

theweasleysredhair’s 4.6k follower event!

~~

3. “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

8. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

10. “Because I love you.”

~~~

Character: George Weasley

Word Count: 1884

WARNING: there’s no ‘read more’ bc i’m on mobile and couldn’t get it to work hahaha i apologise

Taglist: @dreamer821 @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @besitos-41 @heart-of-tempered-steel @andineversawyoucoming @mytreec | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn’t mine, credit goes to whoever made it

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“I need you to date me.”

In shock, you dropped too many of the porcupine quills into your potion, making the liquid turn a nasty shade of green and sizzle as it practically exploded across the table. You sighed frustratedly, grabbing your wand and cleaning up the potion before turning to the person who spoke - one half of the Weasley twins and one of your best friends, George Weasley - who apparently found your reaction extremely amusing.

“I beg your pardon?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. The hint of a smile was still etched onto his face as he leaned forward, “I need you to date me.”

You felt yourself grow warm at the thought, “You’re joking, right?” “For once, I am not,” he shook his head, “I um, I told this girl I couldn’t go to the Yule Ball with her because I had a girlfriend who I’m going with instead. Except, I don’t have a girlfriend. So you can see my dilemma.”

“This may be a stupid question but... if you don’t have a girlfriend, why did you tell her you do?” You raised an eyebrow, half curious, half amused.

“I didn’t want to be rude and just tell her no because she was really sweet. So now I need to find someone to date me, and I thought of you,” he explained with a shrug, playing with some of the potion ingredients you’d left at the end of your table.

“There are so many other girls you could have-“

“I don’t want anyone else, I want you,” he said almost desperately, before sighing downheartedly, “C’mon, it wouldn’t be so bad, and it wouldn’t have to be for long! Just until the Yule Ball. It’s not like we’d have to pretend that much! I spend most of my free time with you as it is.”

“How do you know I don’t already have a date, huh?” You asked, beginning to start your potion all over again before Snape got the chance to scold you.

George’s face dropped and his jaw clenched, “What do you mean? Who asked you?”

“Well, no one. But my point was, what if they had?”

“Then you’d tell them you’ve been given a better option - me - and that they were never good enough for you. You know, the truth,” he nodded triumphantly, running a hand through his hair.

You shook your head at him with a smile, glancing up at him before your gaze travelled back to your potion.

“So what do you say?”

You pondered it for a moment, before replying, “Fine.”

George broke out into a large grin, wrapping his arms around you and very nearly swinging you around the room in excitement, “Darling, you are the best! I owe you big time!”

“Yes, you do. Now, do we have any rules we need to discuss?”

“Like what?”

“Like, I don’t know, a backstory, how we got together, how far we’d go with PDA - I vote not too far if I’m honest,” you said nervously, toying with the hem of your jumper.

“Well I vote the opposite, I think we should have lots of PDA constantly, all the time!”

“George,” you said warningly, though you couldn’t help the way your lips curved into a smile.

“Fine,” he dragged out the last syllable, “I can only think of one rule. A very important rule that I’m sure you might have a hard time not breaking.”

“Go on?”

“Whatever you do, don’t fall in love with me!” His eyes widened dramatically as he pointed at you. “No chance of that happening, don’t you worry,” you laughed, stirring the potion.

“Well that was rude of you,” he said in mock hurt, a hand on his heart as he pouted at you. You cracked a smile and shook your head, “Oh be quiet will you, and pass me the rest of those porcupine quills, I have to finish redoing this potion that you made me ruin.”

“Nagging me already,” George mumbled, “We really are a couple.”

***

You realised pretty quickly that you were wrong about there being no chance of falling for George. So very wrong. Turns out the chances of falling for George Weasley were 100%, because somewhere between being his friend and being more, you fell head over heels in love with him.

If you were honest with yourself, you’d had feelings for him before the whole fake-dating, but figured you’d mistaken them for feelings of strong friendship.

Now you knew - you didn’t want to be his friend, you wanted him to snog you against a wall as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

And all of this was because of one simple kiss. You hadn’t expected it, didn’t know it was going to happen. All you knew was that one minute you were walking down the hallway with George’s arm around your shoulder - not even for show, really, he just walked with you like that anyway - and the next, your back was against a pillar, your eyes widening as you stared up at George, feeling yourself growing warm.

“W-What’s going on?” You stammered out, heart pounding as you lost yourself in his brown eyes, suddenly getting the urge to run your hand through his ginger hair and pull him by his tie down into a kiss.

“She’s watching,” he murmured, nodding subtly down to the end of the hallway. You couldn’t see anyone, but took his word for it as you figured you were just overwhelmingly flustered from the proximity.

And suddenly you realised what position you were in: his hands either side of your head, trapping you between his chest and the pillar, your own chest barely an inch away from him and his legs brushing against your own.

Your breath hitched in your mouth, noticing how his eyes flickered from your eyes down to your mouth before moving back up again. Your lips parted a little, chin tilting ever-so-slightly upwards as you waited to see what he’d do.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He murmured, and suddenly his lips were on yours, pulling you into a desperate kiss, him cupping your cheek to bring you closer, his other hand sliding down the pillar to grab your waist.

This wasn’t a kiss from someone who was just a friend. This was a kiss that made your toes curl, set your skin on fire and made you want more - so much more.

And in that moment you realised you loved him. You didn’t want to go back to being George’s friend, not when you knew how his lips felt against yours, how his hands felt holding your waist.

He’d finally pulled away for air, still pressing shorter kisses to your lips as you both breathed heavily, and you dragged a hand through his hair, just how you’d imagined.

You knew, right then, that you were in love with him. All of a sudden, and very very full on.

After that, you suddenly noticed and admired everything about him, from the way he laughed to the way he bit his lip as he glanced your way.

And the thought of breaking this whole dating thing off - something that you’d both planned to happen the day after the Yule Ball - made you feel sick to your stomach. The thought of never kissing him again made you want to scream.

You couldn’t imagine going back to being friends. Not when you’d had a taster of what it was like to be George Weasley’s girlfriend.

You argued with yourself, one half of you wanting to end it with him now in order to save yourself further heartbreak, and the other half wanting to continue for as long as possible. It was all you could think about, from the moment you woke up in the morning to the moment you went to sleep at night. And you decided you couldn’t keep going like this, it wasn’t fair to you.

You couldn’t keep pretending you weren’t in love with the ginger boy.

And so, when you found yourself sat in his common room late one night two weeks after that first fateful kiss, sharing one of the red plush couches with him, his leg pressed next to yours and your heart racing, the rest of the students already in their dorms, you decided to be honest with him.

“George?”

“Yes?” George waited for your reply, however at the silence, he looked up curiously, finding you chewing on your lip in thought.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, concern seeping into his voice as he looked at you, noticing how restless you appeared, how lost in thought.

“I um.. yes? I mean no,” you frowned, “I mean- I don’t know.”

He shifted, his body tilting towards yours and he grabbed your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips so he could press a kiss to you knuckles, “What’s wrong, what’s going on?”

“I can’t pretend anymore, Georgie,” you whispered, afraid if you spoke any louder your voice would fail you.

“What do you mean, you can’t pretend? You’re scaring me, princess, please tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours,” he frowned, hating the idea of anything even remotely bothering you.

“I can’t pretend to be your girlfriend anymore.”

And suddenly George felt like he’d been winded, a pain in his chest he could only liken to heartbreak, if he was to be so dramatic.

“What?” His voice was small, especially in the silent room. He wanted to know why. Had he done something wrong? Made you feel uncomfortable at one point? He’d hate himself if he had.

“I can’t pretend because- because I fell in love with you,” you breathed out, lips trembling as you stared at your clasped hands, “This isn’t pretend for me anymore, this is real! And it’s scary, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

There was a silence and you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, not wanting to see the look on his face as he tried to come up with, you presumed, a way to reject you.

“You wanna know why I asked you to be my fake girlfriend?” He asked suddenly, squeezing your hands and waiting for you to nod slightly at him, before continuing, “Because I wanted a reason to ask you to the Yule Ball without being rejected. Because I wanted to spend even more time with you, to have a glimpse at what it would be like to date you. Because-because I love you.”

Your felt your heart skip a beat as you finally looked up at him, meeting his eyes as he smiled at you.

“You love me?” You whispered.

“Always have, I reckon.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you allowed him to pull you closer to him, “Well I guess it’s definitely a good job I fell for you, huh?”

He grinned cheekily, biting his lip as he replied jokingly, “Well, I don’t know really, I mean, I thought I told you not to fall in love with me.”

“Yeah, well,” you spoke, letting a soft smile creep onto your face,

“As it turns out, I just couldn’t help myself.”