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aprilthearcher · 3 months

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me and you... were meant to be.

[remus lupin x f!reader] [platonic james potter x f!reader]

slytherin!reader (because i myself am one). use of (y/n) (though i tried my best to not overuse it)

angst, but happy ending. remus' insecurities get in the way of your fresh relationship. 3k words.

i haven't written for remus for a long, long time so i tried to do my best because i love him to pieces and recently i've been experiencing a remus lupin era so... here it is. also, that spell she uses to protect her home... i've no idea if it exists, i just liked it.

english is not my first language, so there could be some mistakes. pictures are not mine.

thank you for reading!

i wrote this while listening to "Don't Delete the Kisses" by Wolf Alice and "What if I Love You" by Gatlin.

“What if you and I… What if we were never meant to be?”

“What are you saying, Remus?”

“I'm saying that I don't think we… I don't think it’s good for us to keep seeing each other.”

“But, but why? We are so good right now, we… I’m trying here, Remus, but I don't get it. Why would you do this?”

“I've just told you, we are not meant for each other. You… you des…” He stopped mid sentence. “I don't see you like that anymore, I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise.”

Now, on top of a bus that would drop her off a couple of blocks from her flat, she couldn’t recall a single moment in their short relationship that could’ve propelled something like this. They were good, really good. After dancing around each other for so long during their Hogwarts years, they had finally admitted their feelings one summer afternoon while looking at the sun go down and the moon rise up. Four months later, he was ending it. Salazar, could he have been high? She knew sometimes the boys would smoke those muggle herbs Marlene would bring them, overcharging them of course, but he had never said something so… heartbreaking under their influence. No, he couldn’t have been high, he would become even touchier when he’d smoke some, ignoring his friend’s presence and delighting in the passionate, even primal, effect they’d produce; the lightheaded feeling that allowed him to relax and run his fingers through her arms, her hands, her neck and jaw…

She pressed the palm of her hands against her eyes when they started to water for the fifth time that evening after leaving Dorcas’ apartment complex. Was he so desperate to get rid of her that he couldn’t even wait to do it at home? What would her great-grandmother think of her if she saw her like this? “Crying over a half-blood, a HALF-BREED, you are nothing but a blood traitor. You’ve tainted our legacy, you and your good-for-nothing parents, you are no more worthy than those mudbloods you hang round, affiliating yourself with muggles, living a life surrounded by them." Why did she keep caring about what she would think? She had never shared her views on blood purity and how any wizard or witch that wasn’t part of the Sacred Families would be undeserving of its magic. She hated people like her grandmother. She hated that the old hag had tried to drill these thoughts into her head since a very young age. She was glad she had died and she was glad her parents were nothing like their parents, so why was she remembering her now? Perhaps it was the fear of losing her entire friend group that made her sick mind resort to conjuring the old witch’s voice in her head.

She truly hoped for her great grandmother to be rolling in her grave at the sight of one of her descendants crying over a werewolf and the possibility of losing her entire friend group made up of blood traitors, half-bloods, and muggleborns.

She knew they weren’t like that, that they wouldn’t isolate her for something like this. Merlin, they didn’t even know, at least until tonight, of their relationship! Though she was sure it wouldn’t take long for them to figure it out after how she had left in such an abrupt manner, without saying goodbye and barely making it to the door without the tears falling down her cheeks. She had left the task of explaining everything to Remus.

“Lady, this is the last stop!” The bus driver called out from the front of the vehicle.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck Remus Lupin for breaking her heart, for making her cry and making her miss her bus stop. Fuck him for making her feel so in love she left her guard down, fuck him for assuring her that he could trust him.

Although she had planned to take the muggle bus to get her mind off things and not get home immediately — for she was sure her lonely flat would make her feel worse, for she was sure there was one of Remus’ sweater idle placed on the back of an armchair she was hoping to return tonight after he’d accompanied her home —, she had not anticipated missing her stop and having to walk ten or so blocks home. It was not that she felt unsafe wandering through London this late, but she just felt emotionally exhausted.

She almost jogged all the way home, not wanting to encounter any trouble on her way home for she was not in the right state of mind for fighting anyone, muggle or not. Though, perhaps, the rush of adrenaline that would come from a brawl would bring her back to life, a little at least.

She’d taken two steps into the hallway when she saw the light coming from her flat. Stopping on her tracks, she got her wand out of her leather holster strapped in her left shoulder and approached her door. Good thing she had opted to climb the stairs instead of apparating inside; if she were to be ambushed, she wouldn’t have had any time to prepare.

With the whisper of an incantation the door opened slowly. For a moment, she forgot about Remus and the only thing on her mind was to find out who was inside her home. Her mind was reeling with ideas. Death eaters.

Death eaters. Death eaters. Death eaters.

But how? She had secured the place with some, if not all, of the best protective spells. Dorcas had helped her set them up. The locks were unbreachable, as well as the magical barriers protecting the walls from all sides, there were only two people that could apparate inside, her and…

“Prongs?”

She had chosen James as the only other person to be able to apparate inside her home. The spell was infallible and it had taken them several months of hard work, but it was worth it since not even someone who had induced the polyjuice potion, impersonating James, could get in.

She saw him pacing round her living room, his fingers twirling his wand in the air, a trick she had seen muggle musicians do when playing the drums. He stopped once he saw her, quickly coming to wrap one arm around her frame while the other pushed the door closed. The hiss of the invisible sigils increased for a second.

“I thought something had happened to you on the way home, you took so long. Why did you take so long? I was worried sick.”

“Merlin, James, the baby is making you act just like your mother.”

“Shut up, I was genuinely worried. Was about to go searching for you.”

“I took the bus but missed my stop, so I had to walk.”

He nodded, relaxing a bit now that he saw his best friend was okay. Physically, at least. Her emotions were still all over the place, her heart had calmed down and decided to break again after realising there were no intruders in her home.

“What happened back then, dove? With Remus? You, you just run away.”

“I think you know what happened, James.” She said, while hanging her coat in the rack and taking out her boots. She knew he knew, he wouldn’t have left Dorcas’ flat without an explanation from Remus after seeing her so distressed.

James sighed. Even though her own feelings were messed up, she could still realise this was a difficult position for James, and the rest of them, to be in. (Y/N) and James had been friends since they were young, younger than now at least, knowing each other because their parents introduced them the summer before beginning their third year at Hogwarts. She was a Slytherin thus making it hard for the boy to trust her, even at that age, but one stern look from his mother Euphemia had the boy overcoming his prejudice against her in a heartbeat. It had been quite impossible to separate them since then, which meant introducing her to the rest of his friends. Sirius had been apprehensive, Peter quite terrified… Remus… Remus had been intrigued, you could say. All of his previous interactions with Slytherins hadn’t been pleasing, but this was the girl he had Transfiguration with, who would raise her hand faster than anyone and answer correctly, getting all the spells right on her first try. This was the girl he had glanced at maybe once — he definitely did more than glance — at the library, carrying way too many books for her on one hand while the other, holding her wand, pointed to the floating pile of heavier tomes behind her.

Remus is also one of his best friends, the four of them are like brothers. She couldn’t deny she was quite surprised to see James here, attempting to comfort her instead of him.

He still had his arm around her shoulders when they started to walk towards the kitchen. If James intended to stay then she was in dire need of some tea to pass the bad taste the fight had left in her mouth. He would want to hear her side of the story. Turning to light up the room, she saw pints of red covering James’ knuckles. She disengaged from his hug, positioning her body in front of his then grabbed his hand, harshly. She heard him wince. His eyes scrunched and his lips closed in a thin line, she knew. He knew that she knew.

“Did any of his teeth fall out?” She pressed her fingers to his bloodied knuckles.

“No, but… Ow! Would you stop that?” He tried to release his hand from his grasp, she tightened her hold.

“I don’t need you defending me, James.”

“You’re my best friend, of course I’ll…”

“He’s your best friend too!” She yelled. Salazar, she was pathetic. Defending the boy who crushed her heart no more than two hours ago. “I don’t want you fighting my battles for me, James, especially when it’s against one of your friends.”

“I’m sorry, dove, you are like a sister to me. I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s not like he did anything wrong though. He… he is allowed to change his mind. I - I was the one to get too caught up. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have…”

“I didn’t punch him because he ‘changed his mind’, dove. I punched him because he was lying about that.”

“James…”

“No, no, listen. Listen to me.” He grabbed her face, wiping the new set of tears that had begun to cascade down her face. “I know Remus and I know that he loves you, that he’s loved you since you jinxed one of the fourth years after bad mouthing Peter, perhaps even before that. He’s not telling the truth and he’s pushing you away because he’s terrified of how much he loves you. That’s why I hit him, thought it’d make him realise he cannot lose you.”

“Salazar, you really are your mother.” James laughs at your comment, heart soaring with desperation at the new turn of events. He knew something more was going on with Remus and (Y/N) as of the last couple of months because James Potter was observant and this new bond didn’t look like the shy glances they’d throw from across the Hall during their Hogwarts’ years. These were slow, delicate touches; soft smiles and bodies that would look to be close to each other every chance they got. So he wanted nothing more than for his friends to be happy; although he should’ve seen Remus’ self-sabotaging tendencies coming because he knew all of his friends like the back of his hand, he didn’t. He blamed the uprising war for that. He blamed it for everything, from clouding Remus’ judgement more than ever to forcing him and Lily, and consequently the rest of the Order, to be constantly on the lookout for danger. None of them had had a good night’s sleep for months now.

“You should still apologise, you’ve been friends for years and I…”

Rapid, loud knocks against her front door interrupted (Y/N). She and James looked at each other, he had a hunch of who it might be but getting his wand at the ready didn’t hurt. (Y/N) had the same idea, she started to move towards the entrance with her arm up, wand always pointing at the door.

“Who is it?” The banging stopped.

“It’s … It’s me, Rem - Remus. I - I.” She could hear him shuffling outside, as if he were moving round the place, jumping from one foot to another; he probably was. “It's really me, I - I got you that black leather holster for your wand as a gift. You bought the rug on your bedroom floor in a flea market last month, you said it reminded you of the one you had back home. Your favourite colour is red and you hated yourself for it because James always joked how you should’ve been in…”

“Gryffindor.” By the time Remus had been at the end of his ranting, she had unlocked the door and opened it all the way, hitting the rag on the way.

“Yeah, but green always looked better on you.” Remus looked at her face, he could see the trail of black makeup going from her eyes to her chin. She must’ve felt his stare because in a swift movement she got rid of the marks, or at least she tried to. It smudged a bit more than he knew she would’ve preferred.

“You’ve got blood on your face.” She said.

“I know, I - I tripped down the…” Remus tried to explain while cleaning the blood with the back of his sweater. She could’ve told him she’ll clean it up for him with the touch of a finger. She didn’t.

“You don’t have to cover for him, I know James punched you.”

“Damn right I did.” She heard from inside the flat. James was leaning against the arch that separated the living room from the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest and a look that must’ve frightened Remus because of how he bent his head down and then looked up again, nodding as to show he’d understood his lesson. (Y/N) stared at James with an eyebrow raised, he sighed and then said: “I’m going to get Lily back at Dorcas’. See you, dove.” With a crack in the air, James disappeared.

“What I said, earlier, it - it wasn’t true.” Remus began once they had settled on her velvet green sofa. She had found it on the street, a bit tattered but nothing magic couldn’t repair. “I’m an idiot but I’m just so scared. So frightened that.. that what I - what I am will put a higher target behind your back. I’m a half-breed, a monster, and people like me … No, no let me finish. People like me don’t deserve someone as pure as you so I thought…”

“You thought pushing me away, breaking my heart, would solve any of that?”

“Well, yes! If I’m not putting you in danger during the full moon, then I’m putting you in danger because they - they won’t hesitate to come after you if you are with me.”

“You bloody git. They are after all of us, even if we aren’t together, they’ll still come after me…”

“You don’t know that.”

“What are you saying, Remus? I’m a blood traitor in their eyes, my best friend is a muggleborn. My own great-grandmother would put me on the ground if she could see me right now so don’t try to make me understand you with this bullshit. You may be scared of love, of loving me, but I’m not. I love you and I’ve loved you for so long that I’m not going to give you up, not at times like this. I don’t care that you’re a werewolf, I’ve never cared. And I get that it’s hard for you, that you feel guilty when we try to alleviate your pain, but I’m fucking exhausted that you think I won’t be able to handle it, to handle you and your transformations.” She inched her face closer to his, a hand moving up to cradle his jaw while the other grabbed his hand. “I chose to be with you, knowing full well that it wouldn’t be easy and not because you’re a werewolf but because you are an insufferable arsehole who doesn’t let people in, who is afraid of hurting others while not realising that he’s still hurting them when he pushes them away.”

He didn’t respond, he just leaned further on the touch of her hand. It grounded him. How was he able to think, even for a second, that he would survive without her light-feathered touch, without her hands running through his hair or his arms that would give him goosebumps?

“I thought that you had grown tired of me or that you had never loved me the way I loved you. That you’d thought I wasn’t loyal to the Order, that somehow I would…”

“No, no, no. I’d never, (Y/N), truly, I’d never. I got lost, I- I thought someday you would realise how you had ruined your life by spending it alongside… me. You could do so much better, and yet…”

“I’m sure there are men out there, wizards or not, that are less frightened at the idea of love than you are, Remus. But they’re surely not you, because they’re not as funny, or smart, or witty, or sensible, or great as you. I’d probably get bored of them within the hour and then I’d be lost because you wouldn’t be beside me. The only man I want is you. No one else. You drill that into your head or next time you try to pull a stunt like this I’ll kill you.”

“Got it.” He whispered before leaning in even closer, his lips barely brushing hers. He wanted to be sure she was okay with this; he wanted to be absolutely sure he hadn’t completely messed up their relationship but for that he needed her to confirm it; to accept his apology. She did, sealing their lips desperately, trying to transmit everything she had just said but with a kiss. She had been so terrified that the only way to have him in her life would be through meetings to discuss missions and war plans; that she would never get to touch him, to kiss him, to hold him after a rough full moon again. “You wouldn’t actually kill me, right?”

“No, but I would tell James to punch ten times harder.”

“Please don’t, he’s got a sick hook.”

“Then you better behave.”

She kissed him again, deeper this time. Their lips moved synchronised, familiar with each other; her hands travelled all the way up to his hair while his circled around her waist, bringing her closer. Chest against chest, with her legs propped up into his lap, they stayed like that for a long time before Remus laid her down on the sofa.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x f!reader #remus lupin x slytherin!reader #slytherin!reader #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders fanfiction

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mulansaucey · 1 year

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Bat Wives Wine Night

AZRIEL X READER

This is my first thing I’ve put out to public eyes...ever. So please be nice. I had this idea for awhile and this is mostly a teaser to what I truly want to write. I want to make this a full imagine with smut. If you like this idea and want to see a spicier version to how this night ends please let me know. I’m always open to criticism and always looking for advice so as long as we are nice about it let me know what you think. Im gonna start writing more stuff and will be open to requests. Thank you and I hope you like this little teaser.

PART 2:

WARNINGS: drugs and alch used responsibly, dirty thoughts by the bat boys

CONCEPT: The bat boys finally realize what their mates are up to on their top secret Wine Nights

“Oh my gods…you’re right” Feyre softly said.

Feyre, Nesta, and I were sitting at the River House sipping on wine and enjoying what we call Bat Wives Wine Night when I had the realization that our husbands have had 500 plus years of experience and fun while us wives are in our 20’s being depressed and stressed for majority of our lives. This was unacceptable and not fair at all. We deserve to let loose and live a little. Go drink til we throw up, smoke mirthroot and tobacco as we pleased. To just be stupid, reckless teens. A night where we didn’t have to be perfect, just ourselves. We all looked at each other with understanding that our simple little wine nights just became a lot more fun.

“Okay ladies, once a month like we do now we keep letting our mates think we have wine, eat cheese on a platter and gossip. But let’s just go crazy, do whatever we want because we feel like it. Because we can. We’re young, hot, and rich. Let’s just be stupid, not enough to be dangerous but enough to have some memories to laugh fondly at just like our darling husbands. We are Bat Wives, I say we give them a run for their money.” I declare loudly watching my High Lady’s eyes light up with mischief (just like her mate). Nesta’s feline grin gave me the approval I needed from her. Thank the Mother our mates were not here to hear us declare our secret fun.

“Our mates will find out though, eventually. Cass is nosey, drills me on what happens on our Wine Nights. Such a gossip…” Nesta whispers the last part.

“Plus your mate is the Spymaster…” Feyre concludes by taking a sip of her wine. Yes he is, my beautiful, sweet, loving mate. Azriel. We’ve been married and mated for over a year now. I met him at a time when I swore off love at the nice age of 19 years old. But he was so kind and patient, building up our friendship first and making me feel seen as a person. He is a wonderful male and he had to fight many battles to get where he is today. But I am not Azriel, I’ve barely traveled out of my own court. Our perspectives can be quite different which I love but I want to create my own experiences as well. After the war, after almost dying I realized life can be taken from me at any moment and I want to spend those moments knowing I made good memories. That I lived. Even if it’s once a month with my sister in laws doing something as silly as smoking mirthroot. It’s something to ease the soul, bonding between just us girls.

“So what? Let’s see how long we can go til they figure it out. Make it a game, see how far we can go before they find out just how unhinged we are.” I giggle just a bit tipsy. The girls and I burst out laughing and start planning what we should do next month.

*TWO YEARS LATER*

Two years and counting. Our darling husbands STILL think we have a quiet night in with some books and snacks. It’s truly comical. It’s also nice to know something they don’t.

“I’ll miss you.” Az murmurs in my hair, holding me til I walk into the River House front door. I tighten my arms around his waist and breathe him in. He takes a step back looking at me, love and adoration flowing through the bond between us. Az looks heart eyed, as if seeing me for the first time. I can’t tease him because I know for a fact I’m looking at him with the very same look.

“Can you guys just make out already so we can start drinking?” Nesta says unamused. I jumped back from Azriel, startled. When did she open the door? Nesta walks further away from us into a deeper part of the house. I turn back to find Az already looking at me. Something about Azriel is he is absolutely clingy in the best way possible. Physical touch and quality time are his love languages, any time we have to part it’s a bit dramatic because we simply hate saying goodbye. It’s the love I’ve always wanted. I love the Wine Nights as he has nights with his brothers to get away but nothings better than coming home and finding my place within his arms.

“If you ever wanna leave early just let me know and we can cuddle and I can go down on you.” Az’s cheeky grin showed proudly. I laugh while pushing him, he grabs my wrist playfully holding me to him. He brushes some hair from my cheek and presses his smooth lips to mine. We stand there for what feels like hours just feeling each other's breath mingle, when he glides his naughty tongue against my lips I pull away. Both us panting I say, “Go Az, before I actually ditch them for you.” I giggle. He very reluctantly peels his hands off my body and shoots up the sky with a wink, surely a promise of great fun when he picks me up tomorrow morning.

With the mating haze slowly leaving my brain a new found giddiness found its way in. We’ve started doing full on sleepovers instead of a few hours of mingling. That way we can return to the River House and clean up before our mates return to us. Truthfully it started after Feyre had way too many tequila shots and threw up for two hours begging us not to call for Rhys as our “cover” would be blown. I skip into the River House and take a look at my girls.

“Ready to fuck shit up?” I ask. “We’ve been ready, we were betting if you two would actually fuck on my front door.” Feyre says as fill her cups with wine, pregaming for later. Nesta laughs while grabbing my hand leading me into Feyre’s room. She has the biggest bathroom and closet for these occasions. We all start getting ready putting on our preferred style of makeup and clothing. Laughing loudly as we gossip about Beron’s hairline that keeps going further back as each year passes. We truly don’t know if it is but we all love roasting that horrible man. Once we are satisfied with our looks for the night we get ready to winnow to Veela, a club the IC doesn’t frequent too often. It’s newer and doesn’t have the huge crowd Rita’s does. It’s perfect, truly. We won’t run into anyone we know, not too crowded, but fun and rowdy. We pack the leftover mirthroot and tobacco from last month and winnow to the club saving us some time. We walk right in finding our usual table free in the corner.

“Let’s start with some shots ladies.” Nesta yells out heading to the bar, I’m a bit scared because Nesta’s choices in liquor are questionable at times. Feyre and I start people watching and laughing as we see the funny things the already drunk patrons are doing. I start rolling a blunt and a few j’s also a few cigarettes as I tend to want to smoke one after a good drink or two. Nesta comes back with the shots and our preferred mixed drinks in hand. We raise our glasses cheering for another successful Bat Wives Wine Night.

About an hour or so later we are tipsy, Nesta not so as she prefers to smoke mirthroot. Her struggles with drinking have lessened, she has a drink or two while she watches Feyre and I dance on tables. Nesta nursing a joint between her fingers swaying to the music she loved. Nesta says the plant helps her feel connected to it. Whatever, I don't care as long as we do what we want and feel safe doing it. I am a fan of both, I hop off the table and take the joint between my lips taking a long drag before exhaling into her mouth as we both giggle uncontrollably. Her red eyes meet mine, seeing Nesta relaxed and having fun is a privilege and I’m glad she feels safe enough to do so. We all love our mates but I think being with each other brings a new peace to our hearts. Sisters and friends, we are loved. For the first time in a long time we are loved. Her eyes widen, face slack as I laugh and turn I start coughing inhaling sharply as I see them.

Our husbands.

Our mates.

Staring.

I gently pull Feyre off the table where she was dancing with two other fae, gently pushing her head to make her see what we see. Feyre chokes on her breath.

“Shit…” Feyre mutters. Shit, indeed.

*BOYS POV*

Flying to the House of Wind, Azriel thought of his sweet mate. Years they’ve indulged their wives in their one night of secrecy. They deserved it, for being selfless and caring. Their mates have sacrificed a lot for them, for the Night Court. But they are busy bodies at heart, they can’t help but be curious. They love their wives, they just want to be included. Azriel lands on the balcony to see Cass and Rhys nursing a glass of whiskey. He walks in and pours himself a glass.

“Az, what do you think they do all night?” Cass says looking into his glass, pouting. Rhys looks unamused, Nesta probably told him off for being nosy. “Cass, they’re women. They drink their wine and dish about the new love interest in the books they read. Don’t think too hard you’ll hurt yourself.” Rhys chuckles as Cass throws a pillow at him. Rhys ducking slightly missing the pillow.

“I’m not but you know what I’m talking about. They smell like tequila and there’s traces of makeup and good perfume on them. Think about it, what do our mates truly get up to?” Cass says. Azriel sits and starts to think while Rhys and Cass get into it. Azriel the ever observant once couldn't have missed this right? He trusted his mate, knew she wouldn’t do anything stupid. Right?

Rhys stands after an hour or two of them not so obsessively tracking back to all the times they’ve had their Wine Nights. “Let’s go to the house now, we’ll say we forgot something. Catch them off guard.” He looks at the boys in confirmation. All their eyes light up in glee of possibly catching their mates doing something scandalous. But how they underestimate their wives is truly amusing. How they didn’t catch on after two years, even more so.

They set off for the River House when they landed there was silence. No giggling or tinking of wine glasses. Nothing. At first panic rushed in thinking someone hurt their mates but once they reached the master bedroom they saw clothes strung across the place, makeup and hair products messily sitting on the counter. The girls usual PJ’s on the floor. They went out.

Cass scoffs, “I knew it! I KNEW THEY WENT OUT WITHOUT US! HA RHYS, I TOLD YOU!” he booms loudly, happy to be right and Rhys to be wrong. Azriel immediately makes a plan to find them, sending his shadows out. Once he gathered they were in the city they set their sights there. They went to Rita’s, not a trace. They searched restaurants and pleasure halls, Azriel questioning the staff there. They learned not only did they go out tonight but have frequented these places multiple times, without them. They were smart, Az gave them that. The girls used cash wherever they went instead of billing them, going as far as to use fake names and backstories when they would stop by the herb shop to purchase mirthroot and tobacco. Something they did not know their mates indulged in. For a second they questioned their mates, if they truly knew them. Now they for sure were set to find out answers. Azriel’s shadow reported to him they were across the city in a new club.

The music was pounding, drunk and high fae dancing or sitting and laughing. Azriel first spotted his High Lady and mate dancing on a table top, Feyre pouring tequila down his mate’s throat. Azriel couldn't lie, the sight made his pants tighten, seeing the hard liquor pouring down his wife’s very low top trickling onto her breasts. Watching her throat bob up and down, very similar sight to when she has him in her mout- “WHAT THE FUCK!” Rhys exclaims though it sounds more like a whisper compared to the very raunchy music booming in the background. Az notes that though Feyre lets loose at Rita’s and has fun, Feyre looks unhinged. As if she wasn’t the High Lady of Night but a 20 something year old who was having fun. Azriel laughed as he watched with his brothers, they stayed in the corner out of the way but still in eye sight of their girls. He watched his mate get off the table and steal the joint Nesta was nursing, blowing it in her mouth. Cass watches just as intently, in fascination and horniness. “I didn’t know they did THIS on their wine nights, I didn’t even know Nes smoked at all.” Cass says. He’s starting to wonder just how nice it would be to get Nesta this relaxed then fuck her for hours under smoke induced love making. Rhys is no better, watching Feyre swing her hips against the strangers around her. Wanting so badly to take her in the bathroom. But first it’s business.

“Alright, brothers. They’ve had their fun now let’s crash.” Rhys said with a smirk. All together they marched towards their mates and stood waiting for them to realize. All had a mask of indifference though they really wanted to burst out laughing. One by one each girl’s head turned and paled.

#acotar #acotar imagine #feyre x rhysand #cassian x nesta #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #acotar funny #azriel imagines #rhys #cassian #azriel #nesta #feyre

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aethersea · 4 months

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📓!

There’s an atla au of star wars that I have tried so hard to bend into a shape that I can actually write, but alas, all I have are ideas. This is the one that’s in the wips folder as Everything Changed when the Clones Attacked, which is ironic bc I cannot for the life of me figure out what to do with the clones. Maybe they’re being brainwashed at Lake Laogai? Or something???

Anyway. The story has two parts, prequels and sequels. Details under the cut, because this got a bit long.

In the prequels, the elderly Master Yoda of the airbenders is Avatar, and in his old age he’s stopped traveling the world and instead dispenses his wisdom from one of the great Air Nomad temples, nestled deep in the mountains where only Air Nomads can reach. He’s unofficial leader of the council of Air Nomad elders, which is….not great, really, not how things should be, but it’s mostly been okay. He’s been a good avatar overall, and it’s only in later years that he’s leaned so heavily toward the Air Nomads, and really none of this is enough to push the four peoples truly out of balance.

Our story starts with Qui-gon Jinn, an airbending master traveling with his apprentice, helping a besieged queen from a minor Earth Kingdom escape her city. (I saw a post once asserting that the Earth Kingdom is actually a collection of largely autonomous kingdoms that all loosely recognize the authority of the Earth King in Ba Sing Se, and I like that a lot, so that’s the worldbuilding I’m going with here.) Qui-gon agrees to take Queen Amidala to the Avatar’s council to beg their aid.

Along the way, they encounter a young boy living with his mother. The boy can do a bit of earthbending—and also a bit of waterbending, and a bit of airbending, and a bit of firebending. Which is impossible, because Avatar Yoda isn’t dead, but there he is, bending all the elements anyway.

I don’t think there’s slavery in the atla universe, but we could probably get away with indentured servitude of some kind, and Qui-gon acquires Ani in much the same way as he does in canon. He takes him to Avatar Yoda—and Yoda rejects him. Says, essentially, “This is weird as hell but it’s also not my problem.” (Frankly I can’t come up with an actual good reason for Yoda to do that, but just go with me here.) So Qui-gon angrily responds that if the Avatar won’t take responsibility, he will, and then gets himself enmeshed in Amidala’s political problems to boot.

And then he dies.

Something something evil emperor, yadda yadda you know the drill. (Though I think the empire isn’t going to be the Fire Nation, despite the thematic appropriateness of fire spreading unchecked to consume all in its path. Palpatine is gonna usurp the Earth King, I think, and I do feel the prequels’ themes around entrenched systems with deep flaws, which are too big to fight as individuals and too implacable to change, will fit well with atla themes around earth.)

The sequels portion of things is even less plotted out. All I know is that Luke grows up in the same nameless patch of Earth territory his father grew up in, and he doesn’t actually discover he can waterbend until he’s practically an adult. It’s a shock to everyone—except, somehow, weird Old Ben who lives in the desert, who tells him that the next Avatar is supposed to be a waterbender, and won’t explain why he’s so convinced Luke is that Avatar given that he’s pretty emphatically not from the Water Tribes.

Luke is finally convinced when he manages to airbend, under Old Ben’s suspiciously skilled tutelage. He can’t pull off any other elements, though, so they go off on a road trip to that swamp where you see spirits, to try to reach the past Avatars and get some guidance.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to both of them, Leia has grown up knowing she can firebend. This is kind of an alarming skill for the princess of an Earth Kingdom to have, and even more alarming given that she’s already an earthbender. So she’s kept it secret, and no one but her parents has ever known.

They can meet in some way analogous to the Death Star raid in A New Hope, idk I have zero plot in mind here. The point, as far as I’m concerned, is that the Skywalkers have fundamentally broken the Avatar cycle. Anakin shouldn’t exist, and yet he does, and he was born while Yoda was still alive. If he hadn’t existed, the next Avatar would be a waterbender, and that’s Luke—except he’s from the Earth Kingdom. If Anakin is a true Avatar, then the next one would be an earthbender, and that’s Leia—only then she shouldn’t have been born until after Anakin’s death. Nothing makes sense! Even Yoda and all the other past Avatars together have no goddamn clue what is going on!

Imagine their consternation when they discover that neither Luke nor Leia is the Avatar: it’s actually both of them together. Luke has air and water, Leia has earth and fire; Luke can visit the spirit world and be the bridge between humans and spirits, and Leia can speak to kings and maintain the balance between the four nations. The two of them, together, can defeat their father, defeat the emperor, and restore harmony to the world.

#finx writes #finx has friends on the internet #star wars #why yes I do still have an ask from you from a long-ago wip wednesday for this fic #I stared at that google doc for SO LONG trying to come up with something I liked even a little #I just have no clue what to write! can't make the words happen!#so here instead have this

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howlingday · 1 year

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tragic backstory (tm) au)

pyrrrha and jaune have a date. yang is defnatly not jealous and neither is ruby they're just tagging along for moral support…. yeah!

ozpin takes the time to inspect jaune's gear for him. he's seeing a lot of … aura? magic? something like that. it's rearranging the metals and making them both sturdier and acting like a conductor for jaune's aura… this is something he heard about when he was a boy… as in a boy back in his first life. but it was only for great legends.

… just what has he turned jaune into?

(slaying the dragon was a big enough feat that now jaune's weapons and armor are more symbols of that feat than actual items. more like if you somehow crystallized the attention and emotions people felt about jaune's slaying of the dragon. tldr jaune's got a couple of noble phantasms on his hands)

Ponce Age

Pyrrha: (Sighs contently, Holds Jaune's arm)

Jaune: Everything okay, Pyrrha?

Pyrrha: Yes. Everything is just... perfect.

Ruby: (In a bush) Target in sight.

Weiss: They're not targets, Ruby.

Yang: I mean, they're the reason we're out here, so...

Blake: Targets.

Emerald: And why are we following them? Shouldn't we be respecting their privacy?

Mercury: And miss this blackmail? Yeah, right!

Emerald: Wait, are we really here for blackmail?

RWBY: (Holding up their scrolls) Um...

Emerald: I can't believe this...

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

Wei: Do you truly believe this?

Adam: (Bound by chains, Welts all over him) Yes! All of my suffering has been by the hands of a hum- ARGH!

Wei: No! You only suffer because you lack discipline! You lack understanding! Humanity did not give you that scar. It is your naivete and ignorance that causes you pain!

Adam: ...

Wei: Who did this to you? Who is responsible for your incarceration? Who is the one who put you away, only to be freed later by my hand?

Adam: ...Me- ARGH!

Wei: You say the correct answer, but you do not believe it. If you are going to speak, then speak with certainty.

Adam: Jaune Arc...

Wei: Good. Your honesty will reward you this once... with less pain!

Adam: AUGH! ARGH! DAMMIT! WHAT IS THE POINT OF THIS TRAINING?! I WOULD HAVE HAD HIM! I WOULD HAVE KILLED- AAAAAAAAUGH!

Wei: You were fighting an unarmed opponent and you lost. He surprised you not only once. Your rage for humanity blinds and now your hatred of this Jaune Arc is blinding you more so! If you wish to become stronger, you must free yourself of your mask of animosity! See the world for what it truly is!

Wei: See this Jaune Arc for who he truly is.

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

Jaune: Ugh, I still can't believe this...

Pyrrha: What's wrong, Jaune? Are you mad we got free snowcones?

Jaune: It's the being free I'm mad about, it's the reason. "Here you are, your majesty"? (Groans) Is this my life now?

Pyrrha: (Pats his back) You saved a lot of people, Jaune. People who will be forever grateful for what you've done in Mallet.

Jaune: I didn't do anything. I just held a sword... lance... drill thing and lucked a killing blow. After I abandoned you guys.

Pyrrha: You didn't abandon anyone. You were needed elsewhere. You abandoned us as much as you abandonded your sister when she got away from Adam Taurus.

Jaune: I... I guess.

Pyrrha: How is she, by the way?

Jaune: Cin-Cin is... Can you promise not to tell anyone?

Pyrrha: I promise. I could give an Arc's word, but...

Jaune: (Chuckles, Sighs) She's doing better, but I can tell she's traumatized by that night. Mom was telling me about how she's been avoiding kids at school. Kids with Faunus traits.

Pyrrha: Oh my...

Jaune: I know she doesn't mean it, and I can't say I blame her. Whenever I think about the White Fang or what that bastard did to her, I- (Crushes cup) ...Dammit.

Pyrrha: Here, let me clean that. (Wipes hand) And you have every right to be angry. What happened that night would be traumatizing for anyone, especially someone as young as your sister. I don't think there's a magical cure for what your sister is feeling, but what she does need is the same as what you need. (Looks at him) Love and support.

Jaune: (Blushes)

Yang: Damn... Pyrrha's making some moves.

Weiss: Is it any different than what any of the rest of you have done?

Mercury: Heh... Burn.

Emerald: Geez... I knew that guy was bad, but leaving a little girl traumatized? Never thought he'd go that far.

Blake: ...

Ruby: Are you okay, Blake?

Blake: ...I have to make things right. For everyone.

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

Ozpin: No, no, this isn't right.

Ozpin: Perhaps if I applied fire and ice dust..?

Ozpin: ...

Ozpin: That did nothing. Unexpected.

Cinder: And he's been doing this all day?

Goodwitch: All week. Ever since what happened in Mallet, whenever Jaune Arc has nothing to do after classes, and he has no missions, our headmasters steals away his weapon to run secret investigations on his sheath.

Cinder: And what if Jaune needs his weapon?

Goodwitch: Ozpin has the locker moved up here for "upgrades", and in a distress, has it delayed until Ozpin sets the weapon in and shuts the door. He's also been excused from participating in combat classes until the "upgrades" are installed.

Ozpin: Glynda! Ms. Fall! I'm made a stunning breakthrough in my research! It turns out that all of the dust does absolutely nothing, ergo, Archaic, dust itself is entirely resistant to his sheath- I mean, his sheath is resistant to dust!

Cinder: ...And I should care why?

Goodwitch: I've stopped asking those questions a long time ago.

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

Pyrrha: Thank you for the lovely date today, Jaune.

Jaune: Of course, Pyrrha, and, uh, thanks for keeping it on the cheap side and for paying for the snowcones.

Pyrrha: Of course, Jaune. I understand these dates can be very taxing on your wallet.

Jaune: On their own, no. But when you have three in the span of a week.

Pyrrha: (Giggles) I understand. Um, Jaune, do you think we could-

Shishi: Mr. Arc? May I have a word with you?

Jaune: Uh, sure. I'll meet you inside.

Pyrrha: ...Sure. (Opens door) I'll be waiting, Jaune-

Yang: YO! GET IN HERE AND DISH, GIRL!

Pyrrha: (Nervously chuckles) I'm coming! I'll see you soon, Jaune. (Steps inside)

Jaune: You're Shishi, right? From the first year, Team Savage?

Shishi: I'm pleased you remember me, but what I wish to discuss is not a team matter.

Jaune: Oh? Is it about classes? Because first year can be rough-

Shishi: No, no, it's about your social status.

Jaune: Ugh... Look, I know everybody thinks I'm a king, but I'm not. I'm just a regular guy!

Shishi: I know. I am well aware that you are not the king.

Jaune: ...I'm sorry, what?

Shishi: You are not the king.

Jaune: ...Huh. I, uh, wasn't expecting that, but man, does that make my day! Thanks, ma-

Shishi: I must ask that you stop pretending to be.

Jaune: Huh? But... But I'm not pretending. It's everyone else saying-

Shishi: Then make them stop. You're only serving the public by making an ass out of yourself. You're distracting everyone else from the true king.

Jaune: The true king. Look, I don't know-

Shishi: (Steps up to him) Then know this; continue to insult the royal family, and I will see you pay for it with true humiliation.

Jaune: Uh... N-Noted, um, your highness.

Shishi: Oh, I am not the king. (Turns away, Walks away) No, I am but a humble servant of the true crown.

Jaune: ...What the hell is going on?

#rwby #rwby au #jaune's tragic backstory (tm)#jaune's tragic backstory (tm) au #pyrrha nikos #jaune arc #arkos #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #emerald sustrai #mercury black #adam taurus #ozpin #cinder fall #glynda goodwitch

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bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls · 1 year

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Dear, Mr. Bedtime,

I know you don't care, but that only makes it easier to tell you. You are a beautiful blustery beach with coarse, stinking sand into which I can trace out these words, a canvas only more enticing for for the fact that I know the next thought through your head, however mundane, will be the black tides that wipe my words away. I've wondered for a while now if admitting that you have a problem truly is the first step to solving it. If my house were on fire, should I really sit around and ponder the nature of the issue, if my insurance will cover it, the source of the fire, etc., or should I first get the fuck out? How does it change how I feel if I confess that I feel like I am a drill stripping a screw, trying to get a grip on a world spinning far too fast. I am deep in one of the worst depressions of my life, and the first one without any clear-cut (however superficial) solution.

I'm writing from the place I best express through tears, so forgive my mixing of metaphors. It is an angry and vitriolic place, somewhere just below my sternum, somewhere I hate and venerate in equal parts. This is the place I find myself in most often, nowadays, when I am not deep in conversation with myself and the many voices that live inside of me. Some of them I killed ages ago, but old ghosts are the hardest to exorcise. Many of these voices I still use, with family, peers, or strangers. Some of them I keep to myself. Recently, one of these has started to sound like you. At least, whatever paper-thin pastiche a dumb cunt like me can manage to conjure, even with all of the material you give us. For such a life lived without it, cruelty for my own sake is a refreshing motivator, but there is only so far I can press my own boot onto the back of my own neck before it's no longer enough, and others start to worry.

Girls my demographic -- those young educated suburbanites, married out of college to their high school sweethearts -- are far too sweet, thinking motivation is something fresh-baked and cherry-scented. Boys my age -- raised by mothers who loved them too much or not enough -- are even more clueless, thinking self-help is a religion with an army of podcasting prophets. Boys who chase women and fortune and fame in one form or another, dedicating themselves to Becoming Great with little care and less thought for what truly makes greatness. Either their violence consumes them or they smother it, not like you, who carefully cultivates it. You weaponize that violence within someone, that rage, that grief, until, like a brush fire, something snaps and everything burns. What Native Americans knew, and what we've subsequently forgotten in our quest for sterile, exponential, constant growth, is that those fires will consume the lifeless, the useless, the weak, and the ashes will be shit out by the worms and that soil will house the new generations -- some of which will be consumed by the next fires, sure, as will the centurion oaks that must inevitably fall into disrepair, and when they do they will fall with a thunderous silence, much as I have here at your feet, splintering to show my grub-rotted interior for you to step on or over as you continue about your day.

You entice me as any other insurmountable challenge, for the same reasons I stack castles out of playing cards. Because you are entropy unstoppable; an immovable wall, perfect to bash my head against until the fractures of my skull spell out your ever-changing shapes.

Is this a confession? A cry for help? Perhaps both, with a healthy dose of what my atheist upbringing thinks a prayer would be if I could believe in a higher power. I know that's what I want you to be, but I don't mean to be so selfish as to assume you would even want me.

Perhaps this is nothing more than ships in the night. Perhaps we are all just cracked porcelain, but you've sutured yourself together with smelted pyrite and a clever tongue while I just tell anyone who will listen that I'd look better as a fine pearlescent powder, ready to be recast into a form that suits me better or scattered in the first winds that take me. What were once glass girls are ground back to sand by your crushing hands and cutting words, but I like to think you have the hard, salt-crusted shell of an oyster, and you take those grains you like and you make strings of pretty pearls. Or perhaps they're all still scattered, a hundred grains of the ten billion on this beach where I am writing all of this in the sand, and you're just the tides that will wash me away.

I’ve let this sit in my inbox for six months, thinking I’d eventually find the opportunity to address it in depth. But now I feel like it should stand alone as a passionate, meandering testament from a nascent disciple lost in the wilderness.

Bless you on your journey, child.

#asks

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 2 years

Photo

Léon Spilliaert, Faun by Midnight (1900).

[Guillaume Gris]

* * * *

A truly fascinating story for our times. Think about "“Men, it has been well said, think in herds; it will be seen that they go mad in herds, while they only recover their senses slowly, one by one.” I came of age in the era of protests in the 60s and 70s. As a young woman, it was all completely absorbing, and also overwhelming. All of my subsequent life choices were influenced by the culture of protest, consciousness raising, search for meaning and spiritual understanding that I was immersed in during those years. I have hope for the future as I watch this generation take on these weighty burdens and learn and digest.

“I've been contemplating posting this for the past few days. It's an illustrative story on how a protest can escalate faster than anyone can control. If you're sitting at home stunned at the response of the demonstrators, and why "don't they simply comply" or shocked at the violent response of the riot police indiscriminately beating, blinding, and shelling protestors and press alike, I have a tale to tell you about how s**t can go south in a big hurry.

It was the early oughts, and I was a senior paramedic in the most "granola" district imaginable. Everyone there was groovy and green and all namasté and stuff. My partner and I were asked to do a special standby for a Sheriff Department drill, which was no biggie, we thought; it's something that we did on a relatively regular basis. This one was going to be different. By the end of this drill, I was in a seething rage and my partner was so upset and angry she was on the verge of tears.

You see, the county in which I worked had a large number of university students which had a very annoying history of rioting, setting fires, and destroying property after every big sportsball event, which led to repeated, awkwardly problematic interactions with law enforcement which netted both sides with negative press coverage.

So, the Sheriff's Dept decided to train their riot squad one night out at the county fairgrounds. A demonstration--even a practice one--needs protesters, so the county asked for volunteers. The volunteers that responded were the wholesome cream of the county population: Boy Scouts, AARP members, librarians (yes, librarians), book club members, and I think the local Rotary Club. With the exception of the Boy Scouts, most of the volunteers were old enough to have participated in the social upheavals of the late 60's, so they might have had prior experience, I dunno. For this event, there was no press coverage. Looking back, I wish there was. It would have been enlightening.

We all gathered in the main hall of the fairgrounds, which I remember still smelled like truck exhaust and livestock, and the drill coordinators gathered up law enforcement and volunteers and laid out the ground rules for the night's exercise. There was to be no physical violence. No takedowns. No teargas or pepper spray. The goal of the exercise was to train the riot squad how to move as a unit and coordinate an effective response to rowdy demonstrators. The volunteer protesters were told to shout and mill about.

Meanwhile, there were the observers, which included senior political and public safety officials from the county, and two paramedics with an ambulance...and that would be my partner and I, you see. We had a designated spot to stand and watch from a low loading dock, and I think we even had yellow armbands. Both the "protesters" and the riot squad were clearly and repeatedly told that the loading docks were out-of-bounds.

So, in the dark shadows and glaring lights of the fairgrounds, the lead coordinator blew a whistle. There was laughter at first as the volunteers figured out on the fly how to be protesters, and they started rhythmic chanting and fist pumping. The volume and emphatic shouting built rapidly as the volunteers found their collective voice and tribal unity. The elder volunteers concentrated on the cadences and rhythms and standing firm shoulder to shoulder, and the Boy Scouts were overcome with adrenaline, running back and forth and shouting.

That's about when my partner and I spotted the trainer in the dog-bite suit in the middle of the crowd.At this point, the riot squad in full tactical gear emerged at a brisk jog from the alley between the event hall and the stables. They were in step, and the only sound was the clattering of boots, shields, and armor. They faced off in a tight line against the volunteers, and the resulting antagonistic energy riled up the volunteers to the point where the shouting turned to screaming with cracked voices. The riot squad began to bash their shields with their long batons in a rhythm and began single-stepping to the rhythm. It was very martial and Spartan, and the kindly senior citizens and Boy Scouts responded in kind.

That was when someone found the 55-gallon drums full of old soda cans and bottles, and scattered piles of rocks that were cleaned out of the riding arenas. Stuff started flying out of the darkness towards the line of sheriff deputies. The formation charged full speed into the crowd of volunteers and it instantly devolved into a goddamned battle. The police were bashing with shields and swinging batons while the protesters (no longer law-abiding volunteers) fought back.

The dog was unleashed and it charged into the crowd eliciting howls of fear, pain, and panic. The noise was deafening, and in the space of five minutes, it looked like the Battle of Thermopylae. Reports reached us of injuries, but we couldn't leave our spot. Two (felt like twenty?) riot police charged out of the darkness at my partner and I, screaming orders to comply and pushing us with shields. As their batons were raised to start beating us, my repeated shouts of "We're observers! We're observers!" and slapping my yellow armband took an eternity to filter through the deputies' adrenaline haze, and our small group of riot squad and paramedics froze in a tableau under the feeble loading dock light, us cowering against the wall, trapped between the building and fully-armored deputies with batons raised.

In reality, it only took mere seconds before the duo ran back towards the main conflict, but in my brain it took forever. The battle was rapidly becoming dangerous, to the point where pepper spray was starting to come out and the dog was getting frenzied. The spray wasn't used, but at that point, the coordinators recognized the danger.

It took a few minutes of whistles and air horns to get everyone to stop, and by the time it was over, emotions were still explosive.The debrief in the main fairgrounds exhibition hall was full of tears of anger and shouting from both sides as the coordinators begged for calm. Each side accused the other of escalating the conflict beyond control. The librarians were *pissed*, some of the senior citizens were still weeping in outrage, and the Boy Scouts were shivering in stunned silence. My partner and I treated the minor injuries: bruises, cuts, abrasions, but we couldn't treat the shell-shocked expressions and tears.

As the coordinators got the debrief under control, they asked the observers for their, well, observations. My partner and I were still incensed, and we curtly pointed out that the riot squad broke the rules and charged us. The group that charged us shrugged and simply said, "You were there. Fair game." I thought my partner was going to come unglued. She opened her mouth to shout back, but caught her breath and remained silent.

The general consensus from the observers was that things devolved into chaos on both sides, and it happened so rapidly that there was never a chance to de-escalate either the law enforcement or the demonstrators. Adrenaline ruled the night, and the cream of county society got to experience first-hand the atavistic mayhem and overwhelming panic of a full-on demonstration being met with aggressive force.

There weren't supposed to be rocks and bottles. There were. There wasn't supposed to be injuries, there were. Observers and medical standby were supposed to be off-limits. We weren't. It was a fascinating and stark example of human emotions run amok.

It was started off as a voluntary community partnership to assist law enforcement in learning how to deal successfully with protests. It became an actual conflict. There was no instigating factor such as a sports team winning or an innocent life lost. This was a practice drill that became violent all on its own and became a self-contained riot.

So, today I watch the videos and press footage of the police and the protestors, and I feel that surge of sympathetic nervous system of unpleasant alertness, anger, and tenseness even after all these years. With politicians calling for full military intervention with "no quarter given"; with anarchists, Black Bloc, and boogaloo bois infiltrating legitimate protests; there's no f'ing chance for de-escalation, and with leadership belittling anyone who tries reconciliation, we're in for a rough ride.

l remember how fast it went to hell on a warm summer night during a small-scale, planned practice session at the county fairgrounds with deputies that I knew and respected, and the kind, wholesome citizens that on any other night would be doing good deeds, reading books, and helping their community.

At our little Donnybrook almost two decades ago, nobody died and nobody needed emergency treatment. But within the space of an hour, community trust in law enforcement was grievously damaged, and the deputies that night viewed every citizen as a potential threat to be subdued and neutralized.

At the next real sportsball riot, we were on standby in an alley a couple of blocks away, and I wondered if it would get ugly, remembering that drill that went sideways. Out on the street, before things got out of control, a very small unit of the riot team swept in, determined the instigators and agitators, grabbed them, and just like that, the riot was done. No gas, no rubber ball grenades, no fires. A lesson was learned.

Meanwhile, out behind the command center, two police officers and I shone our flashlights as we stood and watched the antics of two raccoons trying to raid a dumpster.”

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

Edits for clarification: 1) The German Shepherd dog only attacked the guy in the big red suit...but it was scary to see an amped-up dog charging at the crowd.2) I think some of the volunteers were cheerleaders from the local high school. It was a bleak teaching moment for them. 3) There was a brief discussion of actually arresting some of the volunteers, which was rapidly squelched.4) As I recall, the librarians were the "protest" leaders, and the Scouts were the object throwers. Things got a little hazy.5) The raccoons got trapped in the dumpster, and we had to open the lid and free them.

[Joe Bly]

#Léon Spilliaert #Faun #midnight #Guillaume Gris #about art #Joe Bly #Human Beings #stories #my favorites #police #crowds

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xaracosmia · 2 months

Text

ꕥ — WELCOME TO NEFE COSMIA, KURT KUNKLE. 🌓

ꕥ — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: Peter age: 21 pronouns: he/him ooc contact: PetePepsi (Twitter and Tumblr) other characters in xc: Josh Futturman, Mike Schmidt

ꕥ — IC INFORMATION;

name: Kurt Kunkle, AKA Kurtsworld96 age: 23 pronouns: he/him series: Spree (Film) canon point: right before he dies, the night of #thelesson app triggers: Murder, abduction, serial murder, familial murder

personality:

Kurt is a sad, strange little man. Despite his murderous tendencies, he’s actually very meek and respectful, almost painfully so. Save for a few of his deeply held moral values (which shockingly he does have), he will flip his opinions on a dime if he thinks it will make him more popular/liked. He tries very hard to be polite, but if he considers you unworthy of his respect, he does have a bit of a sarcastic and snippy side. He tends to mirror the personality of whoever’s around him that he respects the most.

something your muse struggles with: Kurt is completely socially inept and a pathological liar. He is so desperate for people to like him, and tries to achieve this by imitating others instead of trying to find who Kurt truly is.

your muse’s greatest strength: Uh… determination and optimism, I guess? He doesn’t use it in a positive way, but he is a positive thinker, always trying to find the bright side of every situation and make it work out in his favor.

history/background:

In 1996, Kurt Kunkle was born in Los Angeles, California, and it’s all been downhill since. As a young teen, his parents split up, and he decided to stay with his mother (he claims he had a stronger relationship with her, though this may or may not be true).

In 2009, at age 13, Kurt Kunkle began making YouTube videos under the handle “Kurtsworld96.” He tried many ways to gain fame with this, making videos with the kids he would babysit, and other vlog-style content. But YouTube fame the likes of FRED and lonelygirl15 tragically eluded him. Made even worse as one of the kids he babysat, Bobby (BobbyBaseCamp), did manage to become a successful and famous influencer. This guy cannot catch a break.

Fast-forward to 2019, after ten years of online anonymity, Kurt decided to try one last desperate attempt to gain fame. He called it “#TheLesson.”

The plan was simple, while working as a rideshare driver for the app “Spree,” Kurt was going to beat the “rideshare record” — while live on stream! Of course, the record was for most people killed undetected during a rideshare shift. (Not monetizer friendly.) Using poisoned water bottles and more direct measures, Kurt does manage to kill a few people, but it doesn’t give him the attention he craves, as Bobby (his only viewer) continues to taunt him in his comments. So, he does the only logical thing, and kills him, too, co-opting his audience for #thelesson.

Now with an audience, Kurt continues his rampage, meeting a successful comedian named Jessie Adams. He embarasses himself in front of her by asking her to “follow for follow,” tag him in her story, and other cringy desperate influencer things. Later, he sneaks into her comedy show to try and kill her, but when she talks about him in her routine, and how social media can ruin lives, he “realizes” he’s going about it all wrong. He decides he needs to work with Jessie to find true success, and will not take no for an answer.

Jessie, however, makes him take no for an answer, by killing him. But we’re pulling Kurt from just before that point.

Altogether, Kurt kills just about a dozen people, including both of his parents. But rest assured Xara Cosmia, he’s far too pathetic and stupid to do it again, probably.

powers/abilities: none

inherent abilities: none

items/weapons:

• GoPro Camera

• Poisoned Water Bottle

• Handheld Battery-Operated Drill

• Kurtsworld96 Branded Baseball Cap

• iPod Touch with Kurtsworld96 mixtape on it

starting ability: N/A

starting item: Kurtsworld96 Branded Baseball Cap

extra:

white boy of the month: deranged edition

he’s kind of like if parker davis wasn’t into animatronics, and had more normal interests, like serial murder and weezer

discord id: therealtrueverifiedkurtsworld96

#xc application #mun: peter #nefe cosmia

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probably-haven · 3 years

Text

I’ve been thinking about Childe a lot recently- because my friends slander him relentlessly and other than one person who kinda semi-likes him I’m the only one who actually likes his character.... and I know I’ve slandered him a fair amount myself but just-

He was a child.

A child - No ‘e’. No puns. No jokes. Not this time.

He was only fourteen.

His story described him as “frightened and hesitant” prior to his time in the abyss. All he wanted was an adventure of his own. To make an adventurer of himself, the likes of which he had heard so many times in the stories of his father. To be like him. He didn’t even go seeking the abyss or any kind of grave danger or incredible power, he was just a naïve little boy, running away from home with almost nothing in chase of a story of his own.

And yet he was fated to fail, and everything went south almost immediately. Lost in the freezing cold forest environments of Snezhnaya, he was completely alone save for the wild animals on his trail. And by an unlucky roll of the dice - or perhaps because in that moment, his desire and drive to survive, to live, to get back to his family, was so strong that even the abyss itself took notice - the world he knew was stripped away.

Scared and vulnerable with only a shortsword for protection, Ajax was torn from what already would have served to be traumatizing enough for the child, and thrust into something immeasurably worse.

Described as “a bottomless crack in the earth’s surface,” “the endless possibilities of another ancient world,” and “the darkest corners of the universe;” the abyss is not a place that ordinary people are meant to survive. Now I could go on about what the abyss may be or who the swordswoman might be or what might have happened to him, but the point is: it doesn’t matter what happened, his trauma is trauma nonetheless and its not in his control nor is it his fault how his brain decided to process it. Regardless, I think “endless possibilities” within the “darkest corners of the universe” speaks well enough for the severity.

Even without this however, it is important to note that for three months of what logically would have driven anyone to or past the brink, he had one consistent point of relative safety in the form of the swordswoman, a person who while training him for destruction, was also deliberately manipulating into him “the ability to stir up endless havoc.”

Placed in an extremely traumatic situation like this and being manipulated by one he would have been forced to see as an anchor of sorts, simultaneously holding him together and molding him into the twisted version of himself that she wanted him to be; Realistically, Childe is more a victim than anything else.

And he returned - still only a fourteen year old child - to his home.

Now an interesting point: based on the wording of his character story, it seems as though when he came out from the abyss, his new demeanor actually unnervingly reflects his hopes when he ran away, implying that the swordswoman very well could have used his own ambition as a cruel mirror to shape him based off, or used them merely as an additional manipulation tactic. “He acted as if this world revolved around him, and as if battle existed for his sake.” Almost as though he were truly the protagonist in an adventure story of his own, just like his father before- or perhaps that’s what he was made to believe.

Regardless, Childe quickly gained a reputation for havoc, chaos, and violence, as it followed him and he spread it wherever he went, just as he had learnt to do during his time in the abyss, constantly seeking that unpredictability, the thrill of combat.

And this continued until he went too far, and in response to this, the father that he admired so greatly sent Ajax away into the strict military environment of the Fatui. The idea was that the highly strict environment of training for the literal military, would “hone his son’s temper.” Not dampen, or control, or reduce in any way, but “hone” - to sharpen it, to refine and perfect it. And he watched “fully-armed troops getting the stuffing beaten out of them by a mere child.“

He was only a child.

Everything he went through in the abyss and all the changes he went through himself, only to be shipped into military by the family who could no longer handle dealing with the effects of what he experienced...

And he was just a kid.

oh but they honed his temper alright. Not only was he entered in this military training like his father had planned originally, but soon after, the young child was selected and placed within the official ranks of the Fatui themselves under the guise of being a punishment.

Told to work his way up the ranks from the bottom, the Fatui “honed” his temper and penchant for combat towards the purpose of serving the Tsaritsa, encouraging these tendencies that would only continue to grow stronger and more apparent with time as a result of their actions, which was exactly their intent. These, psychologically and neurologically, were the key years for his mental development.

And once again the young Ajax found himself the victim of another’s subtle manipulation. Until he was Ajax no more.

Childe has been under the constant task of further proving himself since enlisting in the Fatui, and once he gained the recognition of the Tsaritsa, the only next possible way of doing that was by comparing his skills to others. And thus far, he has exceed in this time and time again, so with the evidence before him his arrogant confidence in his abilities is by no means unreasonable. Nor is his tendency to express friendship and varied other things through combat, it’s only natural after besting others in battle became his main source of acknowledgement throughout his younger years.

He’s fiercely loyal as well, to the point where - were his sense of loyalty not so shrouded in his delusion of what loyalty is meant to be - it would likely border on codependency. He also doesn’t seem to have the greatest understanding of social cues, as expected with his combat-oriented upbringing, and tends to have an unnerving aura to a lot of the things he says that he doesn’t seem aware of.

His loyalty to the Tsaritsa rings true, and seems to be his highest priority above all others, an ideology that, once again has been drilled into him since the age of 14. However, despite this, he is disliked and avoided even by his fellow harbingers, and often kept out of their true plans in a way that clearly shows what low opinions they have of his abilities in certain areas.

And yet, through it all, he still maintains his own set of values and seeks to make genuine connections which people, which while these efforts may be unsuccessful in most cases, and these values far in between - It still firmly shows the strength of his character which, though in fragments, managed to remain as a part of who he is in spite of his circumstance.

And i get that he’s memeable and slanderable and easy for a lot of people to just hate outright, i really do but sometimes it feels like a lot of people only ever see him at surface value and a lot of people dont even know his story and even fewer still actually consider the implications of that background. He was literally a child soldier - that and even more; “endless possibilities” more.

I have nothing against Childe slander, genuinely - but eventually, when it reaches a certain extent...

It’s not bad, I’m just tired.

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin analysis #genshin tartaglia #genshin ajax #genshin lore #please- what else can i tag this- i feel like i should have more tags for this one but idk what

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helnjk · 3 years

Text

In a Crowd of Thousands - Prologue // F.W.

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Word count: 1k

Summary: You never really forget your childhood love. For Princess Y/N of Diagon, hers came in the form of a boy whose dream it was to start a business and support his family. As it goes, life–and her duty to her kingdom–had gotten in the way. She longed to see him again, to see the success she was sure he had achieved. Luckily, fate was on her side.

Warnings: mention of a knife (it’s a pocket knife & just used to carve something out)

The grass under Princess Y/N’s feet barely made a sound as she ran through the grounds. Barefoot.

Some of the rules that were drilled into her at her young age were that princesses do not walk around barefoot and they most definitely do not run. Y/N, however, was a little–different.

Every so often giggles would escape the seven year old and she would turn to look behind her, as if her laughs had the potential to gather the attention of the whole kingdom. Despite the adrenaline rushing through her, she was still grateful to see that no one was running after her. Seeing the clear coast felt as if she had nothing stopping her now. Soon, the sight of the towering silhouette of what she was racing to find would come into view.

The ancient weeping willow was one of the monarchy’s oldest trees, sitting at the bank of the river that ran through the entire kingdom. Its branches hung so low that the leaves brushed the sun kissed grass every time the wind blew. It was a sight to behold, and once it was in the line of sight of the young princess, a smile broke through her face.

With another glance around to see if truly no one had followed her, she pushed aside the curtain of leaves and stepped into the little sanctuary that the tree gave.

Fred Weasley’s whole body froze as he heard the tell tale sound of rustling leaves. He heaved a sigh of relief once he saw that it was just the princess.

“Took you long enough, Princess,” he grinned, plopping down on the ground, his legs folding beneath him.

“Now that’s not how you speak to royalty, is it?” she teased, taking a seat next to him and leaning her back against the massive trunk of the tree, “Minnie was extra governess-y today. I barely escaped her!”

Minerva McGonagall was Princess Y/N’s governess and practically her second mother. Like most governesses, she was in charge of her young ward’s education. Though, that did not stop them from having real conversations about the princess’ future duties and the realities of the world. And from giving the young girl more sweets than she should have.

Y/N loved Minnie, truly. She didn’t know where she would be without her. But, there was only so much of the older woman she could take.

With a sigh, Y/N said, “I’m so glad she hasn’t found our secret hiding place.”

This tree–this sanctuary really–was one of the only places she could go to be away from Minnie. What the young girl didn’t know was that it wasn’t all that secret. She knew exactly where Y/N would go, but she took it as a sign that she needed to back off for a little bit. Besides, she also knew that the princess would be in good company.

The Weasleys were a good family. With seven mouths to feed and clothe, Molly and Arthur Weasley had their work cut out for them, but the monarchy was fair and just. They both had jobs on the palace grounds that were enough to sustain their large family.

Princess Y/N had met Fred by accident when she was five. She had ran away from Minnie and found herself lost in the stables where the young redhead found her and brought her safely back to the palace. Since that incident, the pair had not gone a single day without seeing each other. Their secret hiding place had been one of Fred’s many outrageous ideas, but it had stuck and it was practically holy ground to them.

“D’you ever think about what you wanna do when you’re older?” Fred asked out of the blue. He stretched his arms so that they cradled the back of his head as he leant against the tree, just like he had seen his father do several times.

Princess Y/N shot him a funny look, “I’m going to be the queen one day.”

“Yes, well, I knew that!” Fred rolled his eyes, “I meant like a dream or something you really really wanna do.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“I want to be a good queen,” Y/N whispered finally, her eyes glazing over slightly, “I want to marry someone I love, like my mama did with my papa.”

Fred gave a nod. “I’m going to be a businessman. One day, I’m going to be able to put up my own shop, and it’ll be so popular that my parents won’t have to work again.”

Y/N had gotten so excited at the thought of Fred being a successful businessman that she jumped up, startling her friend.

“Let’s make a pact then!” she exclaimed, her hands flying around wildly as her enthusiasm got the better of her, “We have to promise that we’re going to do whatever it takes to make our dreams come true!”

“Alright then, Princess.” Fred stood up and brushed off his trousers. “How do you suppose we make that pact?”

“Have you got a knife?”

The wide eyes that stared back at Princess Y/N elicited a laugh from her. Fred looked at her as if she was crazy, and maybe in that moment she might have been a little too excited.

“I’m only answering your question because you are my princess and I have to answer all questions asked by the monarchy,” Fred began, speaking the words as if they were drilled into him, “But yes, I do have a pocket knife.”

Y/N pointed at the trunk of the tree behind him. “We should carve out our names there! And that’ll be our reminder to make sure we make those dreams come true.”

The apprehension in Fred’s eyes slipped away as he heard the princess’ plans. With a precision that told Y/N this wasn’t his first time wielding the small knife, the redhead carved their initials on the dark trunk. Chunks of the bark chipped away methodically until Y/N could clearly see letters indented right at the center of the tree.

“There,” Fred smiled at his handiwork, “Now we’ll never forget what we want to achieve when we’re older.”

Series Taglist: @prismarts @snoopydoop1 @the-romanian-is-bae @demoiselle-en-detresse00

General taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon @nuttytani @mesmerisedangel @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @lumos-barnes @cherryweasleys @writingsomewrongs @the-unmanaged-mischief @mrzweasley @inglourious-imagines

Weasley twins taglist: @pineapplesandpinas @papapapadumb @Mrs-g-weasley @a-castle-of--glass @hey-there-angels @leovaldez37 @pinkypurplemagic @werewolfslut @surprizeshawtyy @oldschoolkiddo @gcdric @turtletaylor98 @secret-obsessions @weaslxyss @serendiipty @kaminewman @fredandgeorgearemine5 @maddoxsmythologicalmind @nojamsonmytoast @famdomhideout @georgeweasley19 @asuperconfusedgirl @loonylovegood13 @lumielikesbooks @nanahachikyuu @freds-slut @theweasleytwinsgirl

if your user was crossed out, that means i couldn’t tag you. please check your visibility settings if you can!

#fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fics #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #tw knife mention #cw knife mention #weasleyclaw iacot

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wonder-kid-pugh · 3 years

Text

Wildest Dream - Jessie Fleming

Inspiration for this was the the song - Wildest Dream by Thomas Gold, Kosling and Matthew Steeper and I highly recommend listening to it while reading this I suppose. Also warning this is very long so be prepared. Hope you enjoy!!!

"Y/n! C'mon!"

The small 7 year stops running and hunches over hands on her knees panting heavily as she watches her best friend run in front of her. The small freckled faced girl stops running as she turns back to her tired friend, "Keep up Y/n!"

But the girl just shakes her head still gasping for breath, "That's not fair Jessie! Your too fast for me!" The girl just frowns as she sees her friend was not a bit out of breath, "How come your not tired?" Jessie just shrugs with a big smile, "C'mon let's go play!" The child with no other choice sighs as she chases after her friend who starts kicking the ball towards the goal.

Normally the child wasn't one for soccer. Sure she played it but that was only really because of Jessie. She played soccer because Jessie loved soccer and she would do anything for her best friend. Just how Jessie would always listen to Y/n play music even though she could barely play the triangle.

Their parents found it comically how the two got along. The two children couldn't have been more different yet they were the best of friends. Jessie was always active and running around outside and loved sports. Y/n on the other hand was the opposite. She preferred to stay inside and always had a thing for music. While she did like playing games, she definitely didn't love it as much as Jessie.

Honestly her parents think she wouldn't leave the house if it wasn't for Jessie.

But the girls were inseparable. You wouldn't find one without the other. Which is why when Jessie said she wanted to go play soccer, of course Y/n said yes.

"Y/n/n! Watch this!" Jessie screws her face up in concentration as she tries to juggle the ball just like how she's seen her favourite players have done it countless times on the TV. But she can only do it 6 times before the 7 year old loses control of the ball. While the small child pouted at the ball which rolls away from her, she isn't deterred as her best friend is clapping for her. "Woah that's so cool Jessie!" Y/n says in awe. Jessie smiles and straightens up as she picks up the ball happy to impress her friend but can't help but blush at the praise, "Thanks! I want to be a soccer player like the ones on the TV!"

At the bare age of 7, the small girl couldn't understand why when she said this to some adults they would just chuckle and smile at her. She had even been told by some of the boys in her class that soccer is a boy's sport. But Jessie didn't care she just wanted to play soccer. She didn't know why people thought it was an impossible dream for her. Like her dad always told her, you should dream big or else what's the point of dreaming?

"That's so cool. When your a big famous soccer player, I'll come and watch all your games!" Y/n says giving her a toothy grin. Jessie nods returning her smile, "Yeah. And I'll score a goal for you".

"What do you want to be when we're older?" Jessie asks. Y/n plays with her hands and shrugs, "I don't know...". The junior soccer player tilts her head and thinks for a second before she perks up, "You could play music! You always make some cool sounds when we play!" The other girl thinks for a second before she smiles and nods, "Yeah that would be cool".

Jessie smiles before holding up her pinkie to her best friend, "Let's make a promise". Y/n tilts her head at her before Jessie continues, "Let's promise that when we grow up, we'll follow our wildest dreams!" The musician beams back at her and intertwine their pinkies locking in the promise, "Promise!"

The two 7 years stood there full of hopes and dreams for their future. Neither knowing much better as their innocence still protected them from the world. But neither cared. Because they had each other and they believed in each other. And because of that they felt like they could do anything.

***

The now two 15 year olds walk home from school. Even after all these years the two girls still best friends. Their promise still remaining fully intact. They always came home a little later after school. Whether it be because Jessie had soccer practice or Y/n lost time playing in the music room. But the two never failed to walk home together. One always waiting for the other to be finished.

"I don't get you" Jessie sighs as she shoulders her bag up higher. The musician of the two looks at her weirdly, "What are you talking about?" Jessie sighs once more, "Why won't you sign up for that talent show?" Now it's her turn to sigh as Y/n runs a hand through her hair tiredly, "Can you please just drop it Jess?"

But Jessie doesn't let up, "No I don't understand Y/n why you won't sign up! Your incredible when it comes to music. You can play almost any instrument I can name! You could win that talent show easily so why won't you sign up?!"

Y/n avoided her friend's gaze. She knew she meant well. Jessie was her best friend of course she only wanted the best for her. But Y/n had been keeping a secret. From everyone. Even Jessie. But it didn't mean that Jessie hadn't noticed. Jessie knew there was something up with the girl. She never wanted to show off her music. She had an incredible talent but refused to show it off. It was like she had stage fright but not really. She never had a problem playing for Jessie but when it came to anyone else she wouldn't even pick up an instrument.

What Jessie didn't know is that things hadn't been good at home for the musician. The musician tried to stay at Jessie's for as long as possible. But eventually she had to go home. Only to come home to a screaming match between her parents. They were always arguing about something or other that Y/n had just gotten use to the screaming and the occasional sound of smashing plates.

The only time they seemed to agree on something was when they both agree that her music is a complete waste of time.

Y/n had to suffer quietly as she didn't want anyone to know. She had grown use to her parents ignoring her existence. She had gotten use to the disappointment. She had gotten use to that when her parent finally did give her attention it was for all the wrong reasons. She had to live with the fact that the very people who were meant to encourage her and care for her, did the exact opposite.

So when her parents tell her that music is a waste of time and should give it up. There was only so many times she could hear it before it started becoming true in her mind. As her parents always told her, where would music get her in life? Would it pay her bills in the future? Would it bring her success? Would it make her any money?

What it did give her was purpose

But her parents didn't care. They had drilled it into her so much that it was ingrained into her. Nothing good was going to come from music so what was the point in trying?

Jessie had caught the brief flash if sadness across her best friend's face. It was so quick that if she hadn't been watching she wouldn't of caught it. "Y/n..." She starts but she doesn't get to finish as Y/n seems to speed up and hurries into the Fleming household before her. Intent on finding out what's wrong with her friend she chases after her determined on helping her friend. She sees Y/n already halfway up the stairs and starts to climb after her throwing a quick call over her shoulder to notify her parents that they were home.

But before she could make it so much as 3 steps her mom's voice rings throughout the house, "Jessie! Y/n! Can you come here quickly!" This makes the two girls pause looking at each other questioningly. But they both comply and move to the sitting room where everyone else was.

"Yeah Mom?" Jessie asks as the two friends stand beside each other ready to step in at a moment's notice in case one needs to step in to comfort the other. The two parents share a look which worries the girl but they completely miss the smiles from the other kids in the room. What didn't go unnoticed by everyone was the fact that Y/n's finger went to wrap around Jessie's pinkie before the soccer player held her hand properly squeezing it lightly for reassurance.

The two adults in the room smile softly at the action before remembering what they called them down for in the first place. "We got a call from canwnt.." her mom starts. Jessie tilts her head, "Oh is there another camp on?" Her father smiles down at her, "Yes but this camp is going to be a bit different". Jessie looks at the two clearly confused. Apon seeing this Y/n steps closer to her friend this time it was her giving the reassuring squeeze.

"What do you mean?" Jessie asks. Once more the parents share a smile but before they could tell her, her little sister beat them too it. "You got called up to the national team!" Elysse sequels. The two friends freeze for a second before Jessie looks to her parents for confirmation. But they just smile and nod. "I got called up....to the senior team?" Jessie whispers lowly as if to see how it sounds coming out of her mouth.

But it was only a minute after that it truly hit her

"I got called up!?!" She yells before launching herself towards her parents to hug her fiercely. Y/n stands back as she watches the family celebrate the fact that one of their member's Wildest Dream are coming true. She watches how her brother and sister join in the embrace as they tell her how proud they are of her achieving her dream. They all knew how hard she worked to get here and it was truly incredible that she achieved this at such a young age.

But what did they expect from the overachiever that was Jessie Fleming

Although she was immensely proud and happy for her best friend. Y/n couldn't help the tiny bit of bitterness followed by guilt that crept up on her. She could felt but felt bitter as she watches her practically second family celebrate Jessie's dreams. Their family had always supported Jessie's passion in the pursuit of soccer even when others thought she was aiming too high. They were always there to encourage her and was always cheering for her at every one of her games.

Y/n wished her own family was like that. That her parents were supportive of her own dreams. Instead of shouting abuse at each other and only give her attention when she didn't meet their standards.

But she quickly pushed it down as Jessie turned to her and practically tackled her in a hug. Y/n hugs her back just as tight as she nuzzles herself into Jessie's neck, "I knew you could do it Jess! I'm so proud of you". Jessie gives her a tight squeeze before pulling back just enough so she can look at her friend's face, "Now all you have to do is fulfill your part of the promise!"

It took ever bit of willpower to make sure her smile didn't falter in front of her. Her problems were her own and she didn't need to drag Jessie into them especially on what is supposed to be such a joyous celebration for the teen. So instead she held face in front of her best friend and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah I do"

***

"Y/n?"

The girl hums telling her that she's listening even though her eyes remain fixed on the guitar. Jessie bites her lip wondering how best to approach this without saying the wrong thing. But eventually she sighs as she looks softly at the girl she had grown feelings for.

"Why do you only play for me?"

Y/n picks her head up as her eyes lock with Jessie's. The brunette not knowing how heavy the question she asked truly is.

The two were now both 17 and both harbouring feelings for the other not that they would ever admit that to the other. Jessie had been with the national team for a while now and preparing to go to college next year....in America. While Y/n didn't know what she was going to do. But the thought of them two being separated hurt the both of them.

But Y/n had still not fulfilled her half of the promise.

But she did go to nearly every one of Jessie's matches. And Jessie would swear that even among the thousands of fans, she could always hear Y/n cheering above anyone else. It was only after Jessie's first cap with the national team did she realise that she had fallen for her best friend as she saw the musician with her family in the stands wearing her jersey.

The two had something that was untouchable by anyone else. It was unbreakable. But neither wanted to ruin it in fear of the other not feeling the same. So things remained the same.

Expect for Y/n

Jessie could see the gradually change in the girl. If it was even possible, the girl retracted into herself even more than she always was. Many didn't notice as the girl had always been on the quiet side and had tended to keep to herself and maybe a handful of friends.

But Jessie did.

Jessie saw how that light twinkle in her eyes faded. She watched as her friend lost the sparkle in her eyes. Her smile didn't seem as big. Her eyes lost their light. The fire the girl once had been extinguished. It was only when they were 16 did Jessie find out why.

When the girl showed up to her house in the middle of the night in tears and a bruise starting to form on her cheek did Jessie find out about what her friend had been keeping from her. How her parents had been arguing for so long that she had practically become desensitizied by it. How she would go for weeks on end without the slightest bit of acknowledgment from her parents.

But that night was the last straw

Y/n was finally sick of all the shouting and yelling and arguing. And when she make that known to her parents, in a fit of rage her father hit her. That was the breaking point of their family. By the time Jessie's parents got to the house her father was already gone and they hadn't heard from him since.

And while the arguing had stopped, nothing had changed between the mother and daughter. Y/n's mother was hardly home and the family only had small interactions between each other. And those small interactions included telling Y/n that she needs to focus on her future and not silly music. Jessie had slowly been coaxing her out and back to her normal self but it was a slow process.

And she still refused to play for anyone else other than Jessie.

"W-why do you ask?" Y/n whispered softly. Jessie watched as the musician fiddled with the neck of her guitar. "You never play for anyone but me. You even record stuff for me when I'm away for camps and make me playlists. But never for anyone else. Why?" Jessie asks softly.

Y/n licked her lips trying to decide how to tell her without saying it's because she felt safest with her. That she could trust her with anything. Because she was her best friend. Because she loved her.

"Because....your the only one that would like it" the musician admits quietly. Jessie scrunches up her face, "What?" But Y/n just shrugs, "No one would like it anyways so why even bother". Jessie just stared incredulously at her crush not understanding why the girl could possibly think that. "Y/n...your the most talented person I've ever heard. When you play, it's like the whole world stops to listen to you play. You are the greatest musician I've ever heard".

But Jessie is even more confused when she just shakes her head with traces of tears in her eyes. "Please don't Jess..." She whispers. Jessie tilts her head at her, "Don't what?" Y/n sniffles, "Don't lie. Your just saying that cause your my best friend". Jessie stares at her for a second as she scoots closer to her.

"Your right"

Y/n's head snaps up only to find Jessie staring at her determinedly. It doesn't even register to either of them how close they really are as they are only focused on the other. "Your right I am saying this because your my best friend. And as your best friend I'm telling you the truth that by hiding your music from everyone, you are robbing the world of your talent. And whoever thinks otherwise doesn't deserve you in their life".

Y/n sighs as she looks away, "My parents think it's a waste of time. That it's not going to take me far in the future". Jessie's heart break hearing her friend sound so defeated. Jessie absentmindedly brushes some hair behind Y/n's ear as she states straight into her eyes. "You shouldn't give up on your dream so easily" Jessie whispers, "Do you remember the promise we made back when we were younger?"

A small smile spreads across her face as the musician thinks back to simpler times back when she had no worries at all and nods. Jessie smiles, "Then you'll remember we promised to follow our dreams together". Jessie moves to intertwine their fingers, "I believe in you Y/n/n and I always will. No matter what everyone else thinks".

And just like that it was as if the dam broke.

The years of bottled up emotions, all the secret family problems she kept hidden, all her insecurities. Everything she kept locked up and away from prying eyes came flooding out. All with that one declaration. All because she knew she had her best friend and crush there with her and because she believed in her. She didn't need anything else but her. In that moment she didn't care that her father left her, she didn't care he had another family without her, she didn't care that her mother was never there for her or that she deemed work more important than her own daughter.

Because she had Jessie

The dam broke, her walls fell, everything came crashing down. But Jessie was there and she caught her. She took her in her arms and held her. Jessie acted as her defence and protected her from the rest of the world reassuring her that she was there for her. And after what seemed like hours of crying which was only half an hour in reality her sobs subsided enough for her to turn to Jessie.

"Jessie?" Jessie just looked down at her showing her she was listening. Her grip on Jessie's t-shirt tightened as she moved in closer to her as she leaned into her chest, "Please don't leave me as well. Please don't forget about me when you go to America...promise me".

Jessie didn't even need to hesitate she just shakes her head, "Never. Your my person Y/n. No one could ever replace you. It's always going to be you and me. Always".

And just like that Y/n never felt more safe and secure. And if at all possible Y/n felt as if she fell more in love with the soccer player.

***

Jessie took a slug of water as she looked through the crowded stadium. They were just after beating Utah 2-1. And with a great performance by the team and herself, Jessie was happy with the win.

But she felt almost euphoric when her eyes locked on a familiar figure in the stand.

"No way!" Jessie gasps lightly causing her teammates to look at her. But before her teammates could even ask, the Canadian was already running towards the stands, running towards someone specific.

Even though she was hidden behind a baseball cap and sunglasses, Jessie could pick her out anywhere. Honestly Jessie didn't even care when she jumped up and pulled herself up to the stand. The musician laughs as she holds Jessie making sure she doesn't fall or slip off the tiny foothold she was balancing on, "Jessie!" But Jessie just throws her arms around her best friend, "You didn't tell me you were in LA!"

But Y/n just hugs her back and nuzzles her have into the girl's neck, "Well I made a promise to watch all your matches". Jessie couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face as she just hugged the girl tighter. Both ignored all the eyes on them as people tried to figure out who was the girl with Jessie Fleming.

It had been a while since the two friends had seen each other. Jessie being busy between school and soccer. And while Y/n didn't go to college she finally took Jessie's advice and finally started releasing music. Her music went viral overnight. Within days everyone knew of the new up and coming DJ Y/n L/n. But with the fame of being the latest rising star in the music industry it also came with a strict schedule.

It didn't help that she couldn't leave her house to get a coffee without it being in the paper that she's sneaking away to meet up for a secret rendezvous with some hidden lover.

But it didn't mean that she didn't watch every single one of Jessie's matches.

"You should go. Your team is waiting for you" she murmurs into the column of Jessie's neck. But Jessie in response to this just tightened her hold. Y/n smiles knowing that her best friend missed her just as much she missed her, "Look I have a show later. How about you and the team come and we can meet up after?"

Jessie takes a second before nodding, "Okay". Y/n smiles moving her nose up and down on the small patch of skin before her ear before she taps her hip, "You better go Jess. And go shower. You stink". The soccer player scoffs slapping her on the shoulder, "Shut up". The musician chuckles, "I'll text you in a bit". "Okay" Jessie nods. And in a moment of courage she quickly and discreetly kissed her cheek before she carefully climbs down from the barrier.

Y/n can't help the blush as her eyes follow Jessie as she jogs back to her teammates immediately being brought into questioning no doubt about her. Not wanting to wait around and risk being recognised she decided to leave the stadium. Y/n grins as she walks out of the stadium among the crowds. Besides she had a show to prepare for.

And a girl to impress

***

"Jessie how did you get us in?" Ashley asks as the team moves deeper into the club. Jessie smirks as she shrugs. The team had been badgering her all evening wanting to know who was the person she was talking to. They were even more surprises when she suggested they go out tonight. To this particular club. This was unusual for the quiet Canadian who they usually have to drag out of he dorms for a night out.

And here she was, getting them into a club for a sold out gig.

"Seriously Jess how did you get us in here?" Teagan asks. But before Jessie could even open her mouth the gig was about to begin, "Everyone! Please give it up for Y/DJ/n!" The team all stared at her with slacked jaws while the London native smiles widely and clapped as her childhood friend bounced onto the stage.

Jessie loved seeing her on stage. Her friend looked so free up on stage. It's like all her worries melted away. She had seen Y/n grow in the past few years. She completely detached herself from her family and throw herself into music. Starting small and working her way up. She started on YouTube but was quickly picked up. And ever since then it's been hit after hit for her. But whenever she was on stage, she was always having fun. The smile never left her face as she was always bouncing around having fun.

The show went off without a hitch. Y/n went through all her favourite songs. Along with playing her own remix of UCLA which Jessie most definitely knew was a nod at her and her teammates. She finished the night by playing the song that started it all. The very first song with blew up on YouTube. The song that made her famous around the world. Ironically a song that was made around the promise she made to Jessie all those years ago about following their wildest dreams. A song that Jessie didn't know was inspired by her back when they sat together that day. Back to that day at age 17 when Y/n discovered she was in love with her best friend.

The team could have swore they saw the DJ send a wink in their direction. But thought nothing of it as they kept dancing. It was only when the show had ended and they were about to leave only to be stopped by a guard did they start to question everything. They were lead backstage into a separate room with the only instruction from the big bulky security guard being "Wait here" before closing the door behind them. Ashley blinked at the closed door as she sighs, "Well that wasn't suspicious at all". The team nods but Jessie just grins and moves towards the snacks laid out on the table knowing there would be chocolate covered strawberries there. Even though Y/n didn't really like strawberries, she always made sure they had them in her dressing room for Jessie knowing how much her best friend loved them.

As Jessie started helping herself to the treats at the table her teammates looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Uh should you be going at the food Jess?" Anika asks as she watches the Canadian take another bite out of a strawberry. Before she could answer though someone beat her too it.

"Well I did get them for her..."

The entire team watched as the DJ strides into the room. Her face slightly flushed and a light layer of sweat as she dabbed at it with a towel. The team look at her gobsmacked while Jessie smiles and walks over to her enveloping her in a hug. "Hey Rockstar great show" Jessie says as her arms wrap around the musicians waist. Y/n throws her head back with a laugh as her arms wrap around her shoulders as they start to sway lightly, "Thanks Superstar".

But of course their moment was interrupted

"Woah woah woah hang on a second here!" Teagan exclaims causing the two to break apart. The goalkeeper points between the two, "You know each other?" Jessie just scrunches her face as she looks at her teammates confused faces, "Of course I know her. You guys knew that, I talk about her all the time". Karina scoffs, "We didn't know you were talking about the Y/n L/n!" Y/n watches with an amused smile present on her face as she watched her friend guffhaws at her friends throwing her hands up, "I literally have a picture of us on my desk!"

It was true. She never hid her friendship with the rising music star. She had multiple picture of the two in her room. Hell her phone screen was a picture of the two of them together.

"Just when you think you can't get cooler...you know a famous celebrity" Sunny mumble causing everyone to laugh. It's only when the laughter dies down that Y/n realises that everyone is now looking at her. She sheepishly scratches the back of her head, "Uh it's nice to meet you all. Jessie speaks very highly of you all". The team smile but it quickly turns to a smirk as they all see Jessie slip her hand into hers and they see the musician visibly calm down sending a smile to their teammate.

As they hung out it became painful clear that the two were harbouring feelings for the other but neither wanted to talk about it. The team found it amusing how comfortable she was with the musician. They watched as Jessie was splayed out across the couch, head resting on Y/n's lap as the musician mindlessly ran her fingers through her soft brown strands. It didn't help that they spotted the red number 17 Canadian jersey under the musicians flannel shirt. They had never seen their Canadian teammate so comfortable with someone like this before. So as it started to get late they decided to head off. Not only to get some rest but to also allow the two some much need alone time together.

The pair sat silently in bliss as Jessie closed her eyes focusing on how soft and delicate Y/n was while running her hand through her hair. "Thank you for coming tonight" Y/n whispers softly almost sacred to break the peaceful atmosphere between the two of them. Jessie just opens her eyes and intertwines her fingers with Y/n's other hand, "Of course. I love seeing you play. Even though I prefer when you play guitar". The corner of her mouth twitched upwards, "That's special. That's for only you. I don't mind everyone listening to my other stuff. But I only play the guitar for you".

The overnight sensation looked down to see that a small faint blush had tinted Jessie's cheeks. Without even thinking her hand moves from her hair to cup her cheek as her thumb grazed her cheekbone. She only snapped out of it when she saw that Jessie's face had now turned fully red leaving her to resemble a tomato. She was about to pull her hand away not wanting to make the girl uncomfortable but stopped when Jessie instead leaning into her hand.

As Y/n stared down at the soccer player, something just surged through her. It was like everything just clicked as she took a deep breath, "There's something I have to tell you". This catches Jessie's attention as she squeezes the other girl's hand, "What is it?"

Y/n picks her lips trying to figure out best how to tell her, "Have I ever told you where the inspiration for "Wildest Dreams" came from?" Jessie thinks for a second before shaking her head. Y/n hesitates for a second wondering if it was too late to turn back now, the fear starting to crept back in. Jessie sees this and sits up so she can look at her properly, "Y/n?" Y/n sighs running her hand through her hair, "Well it was about the promise we made when we were younger and then back when we were 17 when you said I shouldn't give up on my music. It was a really important day for me".

Y/n takes a deep breath stopping herself from rambling as she mentally scolds herself. Why was this so hard? It was only when Jessie moved a stray strand of hair behind her ear and gave her hand a squeeze did she look back at her. "Are you okay Y/n? You seem really distracted..." Jessie asks visibly concerned. Y/n just nods slowly, "Yeah...it's just I've been thinking about that promise we made lately. About how we would follow our dreams". Y/n looks directly into Jessie's brown chocolate orbs almost making Jessie forgot how to breathe, "Well there is something else I've been dreaming about for a while and I'm scared".

Jessie frowns wondering what could possibly be wrong with her best friend that has her this much out of it, "Why are you scared?" Y/n's eyes dart down at Jessie's lips for a split second before looking back up with a small fearful whisper, "Because I'm scared you'll hate me for it..." But Jessie barely let's her finish that sentence before she stares fiercely back at her, "I could never hate you".

Something broke between the two in that moment. This was the only reassurance Y/n needed before she started to close the already small gap between the two giving Jessie enough time to pull away in case. But that wasn't necessary as Jessie also leaned in as her hands latched onto her neck almost fearful that she would disappear soon after.

The kiss turned from shy and timid to deep and passionate, both trying to convey how long they have wanted this and wanting to make up for lost time. When they both pulled away they looked at each other trying to find any hint of doubt or regret in the other's face. But when they found none they both smiled brightly. Y/n pulling Jessie in closer so that her legs now laid across her lap causing Jessie to sequel only to be silenced by Y/n's lips meeting hers.

And to think that this all started with a promise to follow their dreams. Only to realise that they were each other's greatest dream.

#jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagines #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming #ucla soccer imagine #ucla bruins #canwnt x reader #canwnt imagines #canwnt imagine

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multimetaverse · 3 years

Text

HSMTMTS 2x05 Review

The Quinceañero was a truly historic ep featuring the first time two boys have ever kissed on a Disney show. Let’s dig in!

We got the second same-sex kiss in Disney history tonight, Big Shot had the first last Friday, and the first kiss between two boys in Disney history. It’s a huge step forward. That’s not to say that Disney is going to start approving more same-sex kisses or lgbtq relationships or characters but the door is now open and at least some other shows and movies will be able to eventually follow in HSMTMTS steps.

Really nice cover of The Climb, Joe has such a great voice. It was cute that young Seb had watched young Carlos’ dance vid and felt inspired. Frankie and Joe being an irl couple certainly helps give Seblos a good rapport but it also helps that creator and showrunner Tim Federle is an openly gay man himself. I think if a straight man was showrunner we probably wouldn’t get such dedication to Seblos as a couple.

It was a really funny ep too: Carlos saying his love language is riddles, Ricky asking Nini who they talk to when doing their confessionals, Carlos saying Miss Jenn was a master of smoke and mirrors, Benjamin Mazzara and Mike Bowen interacting. My personal favourite gags were when Big Red said he always wanted a nickname and Kourtney immediately did an office stare and when Nini said Picasso was a terrible person.

Gina still going through it. Kourtney is right that it doesn’t really make sense that Gina is now going to all this trouble for Carlos but to be honest the writing and pacing has been disjointed so far this season so a lot of things aren’t flowing as well as they need to. Is what Gina regrets convincing Ricky to go back on stage as that helped get Rini back together? That’s petty but fair and also true to teenage emotions (though she shouldn’t beat herself up too much, Rini were clearly on the path to getting back together by that point anyway).

Jesus Christ, Ricky needs to read the room. Last ep he correctly realized that Gina wouldn’t want to hear about his Nini issues and tried to stop Big Red from mentioning them but now he’s just doing it himself? Obviously they’re trying to drill in the fact that for now Rina is one sided but it’s a little much. Also really doesn’t make sense that Ricky wouldn’t go to Kourtney or Big Red for this kind of advice.

Sofia Wylie was killing it this ep, both her and Joe are showstoppers. A Dancer’s Heart was great and she did a good job of acting on the verge of tears almost the entire ep

At least EJ actually thought to ask Gina how she’s feeling though and she clearly appreciated it after she got over her shock. It does seem that reports of Portwell’s demise were greatly exaggerated, with the music and the longing stares they’re setting up for at least EJ to have a crush on Gina. Hell even Mazzara picked up on it at the end. I had noted last week that it seemed like Gina’s story line in S2 was being thrown out of balance by the writers dropping a planned Portwell plot and sure enough this week we actually begin to see Gina’s story arc not being entirely her pining over Ricky.

EJ also benefits by being given something to do instead of just standing around in the back. I’m glad he took Mazzara up on the AV club offer and they have a nice mentor-mentee relationship going on. It’s also a nice little parallel with 1x05 when Gina told off EJ and had a moment with Ricky and now in 2x05 Gina tells off Ricky and has a moment with EJ.

Matt seemingly dismissed Portwell as a friendship rather than even hinting at something between them. I guess he could have been told to keep it under wraps as much as possible but odd that they wouldn’t hype it a bit; it’s not like this came completely out of left field, people were wondering if Portwell might happen because of the moment they had in 1x10 and the facetime call they had before S2. Sofia has already said that Gina will have love interests this season and EJ being one, even if it’s brief, would make whole lot of sense since there’s really no one else for except Jack who only shows up much later and doesn’t seem to be in more than an ep or two.

Rini was sweet tonight. Yes Ricky is being clingy which stems in large part from his mom’s abandonment and in fairness Ricky and Nini have probably been used to spending much of their time with each other since they were kids. Loved that ‘I think you kinda you know’’ call back tonight. Looks like Nini will be cast as the Rose which should be interesting.

Miss Jenn is pulling Mike Bowen, Ben Mazzara, and Zach Roy. Good for her! Jike shippers certainly feasted tonight as Mike crashed a teen bday party just to see Miss Jenn and we got confirmation that everyone’s fave Disney Dilf was born in the 70s and must be no older than 51.

Well gotta love Lily’s commitment to bringing down East High and drinking scalding hot black coffee. She really seems like she just stepped off the set of Glee

Really hope we see those puppies and man was that wolf adorable

Not both HSMTMTS and Love Victor both making Okay Boomer jokes (it worked when Pilar said it to Felix but not when Ricky said it to his dad)

Big Red exposing Kourtney and Howie was good and it looks like their plot kicks into high gear next ep

Bet Tim thought he was real clever for that shot of Mazzara, Mike, and Miss Jenn in a triangle

A well shot ep except for one weird and abrupt cut from Mazzara saying Caswell to Seblos outside the barn

Looking Ahead:

EJ stopping Gina from leaving would certainly further their relationship and would parallel him being the one to bring her back in S1. I still don’t get why they didn’t just use the Valentine’s chocolates as a plot device to further this plot; just have EJ secretly send them as he was also lonely and you can still have Gina think they were from Ricky.

From what I’ve seen online this Portwell hint has been controversial. It’s true that there’s an age gap between the characters of 2ish years and a much bigger one between the actors but I don’t think that will stop Tim as he already had EJ date Nini. I’ve also seen comments that it would be a bad idea since EJ is leaving at the end of S2 once he graduates but he’s not actually leaving, they’ll keep him around in some fashion until the current juniors graduate.

So far it seems like Rini is the Rucas of hsmtmts, Rina is the Lucaya, and Portwell is the Joshaya.

Kowie starts progressing a bit next ep and we may possible see Antoine next week or the week after according to Larry.

Presumably Ricky’s clinginess starts causing trouble between him and Nini.

Still so funny that North High just up and decided to do Beauty and the Beast just to bring down East High.

Until next week wildcats

#HSMTMTS #Seblos #Rini #Portwell #seb matthew smith #Carlos Rodriguez #Gina Porter #EJ Caswell #Ricky Bowen #HSMTMTS Reviews

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baby-blossoms · 4 years

Text

Potent

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count: 3,795

Summary/Request: “I don't know if you write for Harry Potter, but can you do a fic about Draco Malfoy if you do? It doesn't have to be anything specific, I just love your writing!” - Reader smells Draco in the Amortentia potion without realizing it’s him.

Warnings: Light cursing

You were exhausted from staying up all night writing an essay for charms class over simple things your father had taught you ages before you had started your sixth year at Hogwarts. You couldn’t say that you were extremely talented in every subject you took at the great school of witchcraft and wizardry, but charms came naturally to you. Your mother was an outstanding Auror, and your father also worked for the Ministry of Magic. You were never fully informed on what exactly he did. His job was clearly out of the ordinary, as he never spoke about it. He was always out at odd hours for work, but you never questioned it. You were just happy that they both came home safe every night.

You couldn’t say that your family was thrilled when they found out you were a Slytherin. The family came from a long line of Ravenclaws on your father’s side and Gryffindors on your mother’s side. They were baffled as to how you found yourself placed among Slytherins. Nevertheless, they were proud of you and how hard you were working toward being one of the top students of your class,

“Another reason I believe you should have been placed in Ravenclaw! Perhaps you could consult with the headmaster about the matter, Y/N?”

Your mother had said once. You rolled your eyes at her all those years ago and simply replied,

“The sorting hat never makes mistakes, mama. You know that. Being a Slytherin may not have been what you wanted or expected, but it is my destiny.”

You withdrew yourself from the memory as you tuned back into your friends chattering away about the latest gossip among the school. Some people you had never heard of were getting back together for the third time this year. It was impressive how often a couple could split and get back together in the span of a few months.

“Y/n, do you fancy anyone?”

Your friend Danny asked, knocking his shoulder together with yours and raising an eyebrow in curiosity. You rolled your eyes and slapped him on the arm lightly with a book you were carrying.

“You know I don’t have time for a relationship, Danny.”

Danny gave a long drawn out sigh and motioned to a girl in blue and bronze robes passing by.

“Honestly, you should’ve been holed up with those stuffy Ravenclaws.”

You shot him an annoyed glance and replied.

“Ravenclaws are not stuffy, Daniel. They value intelligence, I can’t imagine why you weren’t placed there.”

Danny snorted out a laugh,

“There it is! Every time I annoy you, I’m reminded why you were put in Slytherin. It’s the wicked sarcasm alone, I think.”

Another one of your friends chimed in,

“Have you seen her magic in action, Danny? It's the power, not the sarcasm. Salazar Slytherin valued powerful, cunning students with pure blood, and the only family with more pure blood than hers is the Malfoys.”

You didn’t comment, a part of you flattered by your friend's compliment toward your powerful magic. However, the prejudice toward purebloods among the Slytherin house still put you off a bit. Your mind wandered to the Malfoy family after a moment. They truly were a powerful and well-known family, but you knew from your mother’s mixture of anger and disgust when talking about Lucious Malfoy, they were not well known for good reasons. A chill ran up your spine when you thought back to the first and only time you had seen Lucious Malfoy in person.

He towered over you, his eyes practically piercing into your soul when you accidentally bumped into him on Diagon Alley while buying supplies for your first year. Your mother had pulled you away from him as if he was infected with a highly contagious disease, and practically shoved you behind her. She had spoken to him for a moment, her voice friendly to anyone else’s ears, but you knew your mother. You heard how uncomfortable she truly was.

That was the extent of your interactions with the Malfoy family. Your mother had drilled it into your head that you were not to step foot near Draco Malfoy, let alone speak to him. She was terrified of what might come if you befriended, or worse, annoyed the young Malfoy. You had agreed, as if Draco would ever speak to you in the first place. He was far too concerned with himself and harassing Harry Potter for that.

The only thing that made avoiding Draco difficult at this point was not only that you were in Slytherin with him, but you also had almost the same schedule. Speaking of which, you realized you had passed your potions class, and quickly shouted a farewell to your friends as you doubled back and made your way into the room.

You gathered with the rest of the Slytherins. The class stood in front of a table that had four cauldrons upon it. One of the two you could smell from where you stood, and you found it almost intoxicating. Your eyes glazed over as you stared intently at the cauldron, and you were only brought out of your hazy thoughts of how exquisite it smelled when two boys entered the room. Harry Potter and his best friend, Ron Weasly. You scoffed quietly, annoyed that he could just waltz into class late and he seldom got any sort of repercussion for it. The one time you were late to Transfiguration Professor McGonagall made you write an essay on why punctuation is important for a witch or wizard to practice.

You glared at the two fighting over the last clean looking copy of the textbook and glanced to your right, feeling someone’s eyes on you. Your glare dropped immediately and was replaced by surprise and confusion at finding Draco Malfoy eyeing you with a small smirk. You felt a small blush spread across your cheeks. You had never fully looked at Draco before. His eyes were stone grey with flecks of blue toward his pupil, and his features were delicate yet sharp at the same time. But damn you had to admit he looked good in green. You found that you had been staring at him far too long, and abruptly looked away, turning back to Hermoine Granger. She stood in front of the cauldron you had been staring at earlier.

“It’s rumored to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them. For example, I smell freshly mowed grass and parchment, and spearmint toothpaste.”

She said before you were distracted once more. You felt as though he was watching you still. You couldn’t help but give in to your curiosity and steal another glance at Draco. His gaze had not shifted from you, and you felt another wave of heat across your cheeks. You weren’t used to catching the interest of any boy around Hogwarts, let alone the one boy you weren’t supposed to interact with whatsoever.

“Miss Y/l/n?”

You looked back to Professor Slughorn, he looked to you expectantly with an amused smile. Clearly you hadn’t been paying attention, and you felt your cheeks burn even hotter and you replied without hesitation.

“I’m sorry Professor, I was distracted. Could you repeat the question for me?”

Slughorn chuckled and stated,

“I was asking if you would like a turn in smelling the Amortentia potion? I saw that you were particularly transfixed with it earlier.”

You knew that if your cheeks could blush harder, they would. Making your way toward the potion, you tried your best to focus on speaking clearly as the scent practically grabbed a hold of you and begged you to taste the potion.

“I smell-” you paused for a moment, trying to figure out what had intoxicated your senses, “pomade, mint, apples, and...”

You trailed off, there was one more scent, but you couldn't pinpoint what it was.

“Yes, pomade, mint, and apples.”

You finished awkwardly. Slughorn smiled knowingly toward you, and gestured for you to return to where you had been standing earlier. You stalked back to your spot, refusing to let your embarrassment show in front of the class.

Professor Slughorn continued on about Amortentia for a moment, then introduced how the student with the best brewed potion that day would receive a vial of liquid luck. You rolled your eyes, knowing for a fact that you would not be receiving the vial. Potions weren't necessarily difficult for you, but they were by far not your strongest point.

You ended up being right, of course. Though, to your surprise and slight annoyance, it was Harry Potter who received the Liquid Luck. You couldn’t deny that you were jealous, yet couldn't help a heavy eye-roll when he tried to take it from Slughorn’s grasp before he was done speaking. You reluctantly clapped along with the rest of the students after Harry was instructed to use his potion well, but your facial expression showed exactly how you felt. You appreciated all that Harry had done, and what he had been through, but what would he of all people need liquid luck for? He always seemed to manage fairly well without it.

You gathered your books and made your way out of the potions classroom, toward charms class. Breath caught in your throat as you were abruptly tugged into an empty corridor. Turning, and drawing your wand in defense, you were more than surprised to lock eyes with Draco Malfoy once more. You weren’t sure what to say in such an instance, as you never dreamed you’d be alone with him, let alone by Draco’s choice.

“Well, hello then.”

You said. Draco eyed you carefully, his expression neutral as he introduced himself.

“I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy.”

You nodded in response, surprised once more by the fact he assumed anyone in the school didn’t know his name by now.

“Yes, and I’m-”

Draco cut you off,

“Y/n Y/l/n. I know.”

You nodded once more, not entirely sure where to go from there. He was the one pulling you into empty corridors after all.

“Did you need something, Draco?”

Draco didn’t respond for a moment. He just stood silently, staring at you. His skin was practically flawless. It reminded you of a porcelain doll.

“I realized we’ve never spoken before. We’ve been in the same house for six years, and we’ve yet to have a conversation.”

You couldn’t help but feel confused once more.

“Well, not to be rude, but it doesn’t seem that you talk to many people in general, aside from your… usual group.”

Draco quickly replied.

“You don’t either.”

You smiled,

“What, have you been watching me, Draco?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“It's a good habit to observe those around you, Y/n.”

You laughed lightly.

“Well, then I’ll keep that excuse in mind next time I feel like staring at someone in class for a prolonged period of time.” you paused, noting how Draco’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Speaking of which, I have a class to get you.”

You said, taking your leave from the corridor. Glancing back as you rounded the corner, you found that Draco was indeed still ‘observing’ you. Your thoughts raced as you jogged to charms class. You just couldn’t wrap your head around why Draco chose such an odd way to start conversation with you for the first time. Then your thoughts wandered to your mother, and guilt stabbed at your gut. To be fair, Draco had talked to you first, and realistically he had pulled you into a corridor without your prior knowledge. So, you hadn’t necessarily gone against her wishes. You had to admit you didn’t mind the short conversation with him, though. Draco seemed interesting.

-----

The next few days were seemingly normal, aside from noticing Draco observing you more and more often. He was bold as well, and didn’t bother to look away most of the times you caught him. He was starting to become a true distraction to you. Of course, you couldn’t deny how attractive you found him.

You were making your way to the great hall for dinner, listening to Danny chatter away about the latest quidditch games and news regarding the Ministry. Almost all of your friends were seated by the time you found your way to the Slytherin table. Confusion and annoyance practically slapped you in the face when you found the spot you always sat in was occupied by a first year.

“Not to be rude, but I’ve sat in this spot since my first year. So, if you wouldn’t mind moving, I would really appreciate it.”

The first year turned to you slowly, and you wholeheartedly expected a sarcastic remark, but instead he said meekly,

“I have to sit here.”

You raised an eyebrow,

“Have to?”

You questioned. The boy nodded fervently, his eyes darting behind you. From the look in his eyes, you didn’t have to turn around to know who stood there.

“Why don’t you sit with me, Y/n? It seems every other spot is taken.”

Your suspicions were confirmed at the sound of Draco Malfoy’s voice. Turning, you stared at him in disbelief.

“Did you harass this poor kid into sitting in my spot, Malfoy?”

Draco glanced to the boy, then back to you, a smirk creeping across his lips.

“What makes you think I would do such a thing?”

He said, eyeing you in amusement. You smirked back to him playfully.

“I suppose I’m not that hungry either way. I think I’ll just make my way back to the common room to study.”

Draco’s grin vanished, his eyes narrowing as you winked at him and stalked away.

Minutes later, you found yourself sitting in the Slytherin common room, staring out the window into the lake. You watched calmly as creatures of all kinds swam past, finding their fluid movements in the water soothing. The Slytherin common room was freezing as per usual, but you neglected to grab a sweater, instead opting to continue to watch the wildlife through the window. Your attention was drawn away from the lake when you heard another person entering the common room.

“You’re not studying at all.”

You turned to Draco as he made his way next to you, then went back to watching the lake. You shrugged, smiling lightly.

“Are you cold?”

He asked, in almost a whisper. You looked back at him slowly, nodding your head in affirmation.

“It’s always cold in here.”

You sighed, once again turning to the lake. Draco didn’t respond, but moments later, a sweater was set down in your lap.

“That should help.”

He said. You looked at him in shock. You would’ve never expected Draco to be the type to lend out his sweater.

As you put the sweater on warmth engulfed you, but that wasn’t your main concern. What threw you for a loop was how the sweater smelled. It smelled of mint, pomade, apples and cologne. Your mind started racing. There was no way you had been smelling Draco’s cologne in the Amortentia potion.

“Sorry, I suppose I’m just not feeling well.”

You whispered. Promptly standing, you walked quickly to your dormitory and sat on your bed. You spent hours convincing yourself that somehow you were wrong about what you had smelled in the Amortentia potion. However, the sweater that engulfed you in warmth and that same scent was telling you otherwise.

---

Just to your luck, in potions the next day, you had the opportunity to test your theory. Slughorn had brought the Amortentia potion back out for whatever reason. You were too anxious to pay attention to his explanation. He gave each student the opportunity to smell the potion if they’d like to test what scents attracted them. When it came to you, the scent had changed, however, not in a way you expected. The smell of Draco’s cologne was overpowering.

You couldn’t tell whether you were delighted or terrified. Just imagining your mother's face if she found out Draco Malfoy was the first boy you ever had a crush on was enough to make you feel overwhelming guilt. However, when you saw Draco making his way toward the potion to smell it, you couldn’t stop yourself from hoping he would smell you too.

Shaking your head in annoyance at yourself, you looked down to the recipe for the potion you were supposed to be making that day. It seemed easy enough, but knowing yourself, you expected it to blow up in your face at any minute throughout the process. You tensed when you saw Draco walk past in your peripheral vision. Hope was still rearing its little head at the thought of what he might’ve smelled in the Amortentia potion, but you couldn’t let yourself be so distracted by him all the time. You would never get anything done.

Much to your surprise and elation, your potion came out perfectly. Slughorn praised you, as it truly was a rarity your potions came out decent, let alone perfectly. You glanced behind yourself, finding Draco staring at you with a look you had never seen him show before. Quickly turning around, your thoughts raced as to what he might’ve been thinking. You weren’t surprised to hear Slughorn praising a perfect potion from Draco moments later.

The minute class was let out, you practically sprinted out of potions. You had to find Danny and tell him everything. You raced to the Slytherin common room, searching for Danny anywhere within it. He clearly wasn’t in his usual spot, so you went to check his dormitory. When he didn’t answer the door, you sighed in annoyance and defeat. You couldn’t bother running around the entirety of Hogwarts looking for him, so you opted to wait for Dinner.

Making your way back to your own dormitory, you sighed once more, wondering how you should even address such a situation. You knew your mother would insist that you just stay a million miles away from the boy and let the feelings fade, but you knew deep down that you couldn’t force yourself to do so. Nevertheless, Draco was in all of your classes, and he was persistent. If he wanted to talk to you, or see you, there was no avoiding him.

----

You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, knowing it wouldn’t affect your scores too badly, and sat in your dormitory waiting for dinner to roll around. Draco’s sweater sat next to you on your bed, and you stared at it for what must’ve been hours. You never in a million years would have imagined that your thoughts and days would be so taken up by Draco Malfoy of all people. The single person your parents adamantly told you to stay away from. The pure irony of the situation would’ve made you laugh if you didn’t feel so guilty and confused.

When dinner finally came, you went to leave your dormitory, only to almost immediately slam the door again. Draco was leaning against the wall outside of your room, clearly waiting for you. Fuck. You were right, after all. If he wanted to see you or talk to you, he made sure there was absolutely no way to avoid him.

After a moment of you dumbly standing there, holding the handle, there was a firm knock at the door. You leaned your forehead against the hardwood, not knowing what would come from you opening the door. Your mind was practically tearing itself to shreds, battling whether you should ignore him and act like none of this happened, or tempt fate and open the door for the platinum haired boy.

“Y/n, you can’t just pretend you’re not in there!”

Draco called through the door. You cringed, still battling yourself on whether you should open the door or not.

“You’re not even supposed to be in the girls dormitories, Draco!”

You called back.

You heard a muffled laugh through the door.

“All the more reason for you to open the door before I get caught.”

You whispered a silent apology to your mother, and opened the door.

Draco’s grey eyes bore into yours, and he didn’t hesitate to walk into your room, closing the door swiftly behind him. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as he turned to you. With every step he took toward you, you took a step backward. Finally the back of your knees hit the edge of your bed and gave out from under you. You sat, staring at Draco as he made his way closer. His signature smirk made your blush burn even brighter.

Your heart was racing faster than it ever had as he leaned over you, forcing you to lay back slightly.

“Tell me, Y/n. What was it that you smelled in the Amortentia potion?”

You knew you couldn't hide how flustered you were as Draco asked you the one question you had hoped to avoid. You looked anywhere but him, still conflicted with yourself.

You had to hold in a shaky breath when Draco grabbed your chin, purring,

“Look at me.”

You looked at him with wide eyes.

“Now tell me, what did you smell in the potion, Y/n?”

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you responded.

“You.”

Draco smiled fully for the first time as far as you had ever seen. Soon his lips were pressed firmly against yours. He tasted partially of how smelled, like peppermint and green apples. As he pulled away slightly, you let out a shaky sigh, and felt his breath fan across your face.

“Is it too bold of me to assume what you might’ve smelled in the potion, then?”

You asked in a whisper. Draco chuckled, shifting slightly to grab something behind you. His icy eyes analyzed you for a few more moments before he pulled you into a softer, shorter kiss. You leaned forward, bringing one hand to his hair, running your fingers through it. You had wanted to do that for days now. Draco’s lips quirked up, smiling against yours.

When he pulled away, the sight of him nearly made you choke. His hair was ruffled in a way you found so deliciously attractive, and his lips slightly swollen from the kisses you had shared.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, Y/n. I just wanted my sweater back.”

He lied easily. Bringing it to his nose, he inhaled softly, then continued.

“Your perfume is quite potent, though.”

He winked at you, making your heart flutter, then took his exit.

You didn’t care what your parents would think. There was no way you could stay away from Draco Malfoy.

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awanderingtortoise · 3 years

Text

a/n: first of all, i would like to thank my genius brain for answering the ask this stemmed from privately, therefore losing all access to it and anything i typed in reply. i would also like to thank google docs for housing the backup copy of this fic, ensuring my panic lasted only half the time it could have. finally (and the only serious thing here) ty to @nabrizoya for giving this idea during my 'i cant write banter only dad jokes help' panic, i loved it and wrote far more on it than i expected.

laughter in the rain

ao3

word count: 2.1k of pure fluff and crack

blurb: in which Nikolai is much too found of puns while Zoya is the polar opposite, and a young, incredibly chaotic Squaller child wreaks absolute havoc on literally everything.

(from tumblr ask: how about nikolai interacting with zoya's students and them finding nikolai's dad jokes funnier than zoya does (though she does secretly enjoy them)

----

Zoya knew she was in for it when she agreed to teach Damyen to summon lightning. Possible consequences listed themselves in her head without regard for her anxiety: Getting half her hair burned off. An emergency fire drill, minus the drill, at the Little Palace. Possibly a few roasted pigeons falling from the sky. The ten-year old Squaller was undeniably one of her most gifted students, possessing a striking talent for both the Small Science and utter chaos. Unsurprising, really, considering the child both worshiped Nikolai and had a disposition remarkably close to the latter’s. Zoya’s rant on the young Grisha amused him to no end.

“A miniature me,” Nikolai mused, glancing thoughtfully at Zoya as he sat on the edge of their bed. “And shaping up to be quite the handful.”

“You have no idea,” she grumbled, brushing out a stubborn tangle in her hair, eyes still bleary from her slumber or lack thereof. She’d slept terribly and dreamt her kefta had been on fire. Though she was never much for fortune-tellers or prophetic hogwash, she had an inkling this particular dream would soon be reality. “You could be brothers with how much you have in common. Insubordinate. Endless chatter. Utterly chaotic.”

“Handsome?” Nikolai suggested, inspecting his boots before putting them on. “Charismatic and startlingly intelligent? Really, my dear; you don’t have to be quite so negative.”

“I’m likely about to be set on fire. I have every right to be negative.”

“Now, now,” He said soothingly. “I’m sure it will be a very- enlightening experience.”

Zoya froze mid-brush stroke, turning to give him a withering glare. “Nikolai,” she hissed.

He grinned. “Yes?”

“We have talked about this.”

“Have we?”

“No more puns,” Zoya ordered. For every joke Nikolai in his love for infuriating humor could crack, these were the worst. The only people in the palace that found them amusing were Tolya and Nikolai himself. Which meant, of course, that Tolya was the only one Nikolai didn’t subject to this banal torture.

“Why?” Nikolai whined. “I find them rather electrifying, don’t you?”

She slammed her brush onto the table and stalked towards him, seizing his wrist. “I will blow you out the window. I will tie you to a tree and let Damyen use you for target practice.”

“From the sound of him, he wouldn’t dare. He loves me.”

“He’s also remarkably similar to you and has every ounce of your taste for drama. He might, and if he doesn’t you have my word that I will do it myself.” Zoya let her eyes flash silver, static crackling in the air.

“Alright,” Nikolai sighed, unperturbed by the display. “Fine. I concede. It’s but a trifle. A storm in a teacup, if you w- ow !”

She had sent a small shock through his arm, and now scoffed at the reaction to her handiwork. “Consider this a warning,” she sniffed, before turning to leave the room. “I have a Squaller to teach.”

“Storming off, are we- ow- ”

Only once the door was safely slammed behind her did she let her frown shift, lips quirking upwards. “Damnable idiot,” she muttered, smile clear in her voice.

“You love me for it,” Nikolai called from inside the room.

Zoya scowled. She’d need to have the walls thickened.

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

To Zoya’s right, a flock of very terrified and slightly singed geese squawked and took to the skies. Their nest lay in a steaming pile of ash. She raised a single eyebrow at her pupil. “Damyen, this is-”

“Awesome!” He cackled, gathering the ash in his hands and tossing it in the air like confetti. The flakes drifted down, settling in Zoya’s hair and eyelashes.

“I was going to say dismal. I do not recall asking you to set birds on fire. Your aim is terrible.”

“But I shot lighting!” He stared at his fingertips with such utter reverence for himself that Zoya didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“If you want to shoot lighting without setting your friends alight, I’d suggest you learn to hit your mark,” She said as sternly as possible. He’d picked up on the skill remarkably quickly, in all honesty, and the currents he summoned were more than good for a start. She was impressed, but her approval would only be gained with sufficient effort. And after more than a few sharp comments. “You aim worse than a blind mole rat. Again.”

Damyen sighed but brought his hands together once more, brow knitting in concentration as lightning began to form in his palm. Strands of his bronze hair fell onto his face and he squinted through them at the target. Adjusted his hands. Squinted again.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Zoya muttered. “Perhaps you’re waiting for the Saints to come riding down on a shiny chariot?”

He snorted, apparently genuinely amused, then let the bolt fly. At the same moment, a golden-haired figure strolled into the lightning’s path.

Zoya shrieked, hurtling a gust of wind towards Nikolai and blowing him to the ground. The streak of electricity slammed perfectly into the target’s center, setting the whole thing aflame. Damyen whooped, throwing up his hands and sending wind blowing every which way; scattering leaves into the air as Nikolai groaned and swore from his spot in the grass.

“Hello,” He said weakly. “Atmosphere’s rather charged around here, don’t you think?”

She huffed and pulled him to his feet, glaring daggers.

“No shocks,” Nikolai noted.

“I may change my mind. Care to explain yourself, Lantsov? In the habit of trying to kill yourself?”

“I hardly need to try. I’m a magnet for life threatening situations. Though I’ll admit that today it was a personal decision.” He beamed, spreading his hands. “I simply wanted to help you make good on your threat.”

Zoya rolled her eyes. “Why are you here? Has something come up with the Fjerdans? Did the Kerch renegotiate the trade-”

“Zoya, Zoya, Zoya,” Nikolai sighed, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “You worry too much.”

“I worry exactly the right amount for this fickle country. Answer the question, or I truly will have him target you.”

“Is it so hard to believe I came here only to see you?”

“Yes.”

“You wound me. But if you must know, I thought I could be of some assistance.”

“As target practice?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’ve had quite enough of that. As a mentor. As a bribe, perhaps; for your little firecracker over there.” He glanced at Damyen, still stripping trees of their hard-earned leaves and seemingly unaware that he’d nearly killed his beloved idol. “You seemed like you could use some help.”

She raised her chin disdainfully. “I am perfectly capable of wrangling the little-”

A loud crack sounded and the sky darkened rapidly, clouds swarming over their heads as rain began to pour furiously in a matter of seconds. A few meters away, a bright flash enveloped a tree, sending the trunk bursting into flames.

“Damyen!” Zoya screeched.

The boy stared at her, wide-eyed and grinning in a mix of elation and fear. “I made a storm, Your Highness!”

“Congratulations. Now do you mind stopping before you kill us all?”

“But I-” His eyes found Nikolai and realization set in as he beamed and the rain poured even harder. “Your Highness- es !”

Another boom, and a second, larger tree was wreathed in electricity and fire. It groaned, wobbling dangerously before crashing to the ground.

Nikolai’s brow furrowed, squinting against the pouring rain. “That,” he started. “Was a centuries-old sacred cypress planted by the first Lantsov kings. Now firewood. Impressive.”

Damyen’s chest puffed with pride.

“You can fawn over each other later,” Zoya snapped. “Damyen, enough with the storm. Turn it off before you start a forest fire.”

He grinned sheepishly. “How?”

She muttered obscenities, raising her hands and dispelling the clouds with a flick of her wrists. The sky cleared, small patches of pouring rain left to quell the still-burning trees as Nikolai whistled appreciatively, clapping; and Damyen gave a small bow. Saints, these two would be the death of her.

“So,” Nikolai said, soft enough that Damyen couldn’t hear. “Changed your mind?”

She sighed. “Fine. Make your attempt. You’ve always loved trying your hand at the impossible.”

“Improbable,” he corrected, then strolled over to Damyen, running a hand through the golden strands plastered to his forehead. Soaking wet and almost cooked alive, and he still looked every bit the regal prince; she thought, a grudging, now-familiar fondness rushing through her like a horrible, tooth-rotting sweet. She scowled.

“Lovely morning,” The prince greeted. Damyen bent over in a hasty bow, but Nikolai waved his hand. “No need. Are you the wonderfully gifted Squaller her Highness speaks of so highly?”

Zoya snorted, but Damyen’s eyes practically doubled in size. “She does?”

“Oh, yes,” Nikolai said seriously. “You’re quite talented, I hear.” He lowered his voice to a theatrical whisper. “Just between the two of us,” muttered Nikolai, very much loud enough for Zoya to be able to hear. “I think you remind her of herself, when she was your age.”

She opened her mouth; ‘What utter bullshit,’ already on the tip of her tongue but Nikolai raised a gloved finger, eyes twinkling. With much effort, she clamped her mouth shut.

Damyen seemed he might faint on the spot. Nikolai went on. “Really, there’s quite a lot you two have in common. Powerful. Willful. In possession of a rather strong attachment to me.”

The young Grisha was eating up his words. Zoya wanted to strangle the both of them.

Nikolai took a seat on a faintly smoking tree stump. “You seem to have quite a lot going on for you, learning to summon lighting and all. A rather current affair, don’t you think?”

The silence seemed to stretch on infinitely. Then Damyen gave a toothy grin and guffawed far, far louder than that sorry excuse for a joke deserved.

“Oh for Saints’ sake, Nikolai,” she groaned, shoving her face into her hands.

“Zoya, dear; no need to thunder about like that,” Nikolai said soothingly. Damyen bit his cheek in an attempt to control himself, but whatever smidgen of respect he had left for her kept him silent for barely a second before he burst into a fit of giggles.

Zoya threw her arms up in frustration and from the clouds a deep, deafening roar answered her-- how’s that for thundering, you nincompoop-- as the sky flashed once more, bright streaks lacing every cloud in an intricate web. Damyen’s gleeful expression faltered at the sight but Nikolai only grinned wider, patting Damyen on the shoulder before standing and holding a hand out to catch the rain.

“Don’t let her dampen your spirits,” he called sagely over the rumble, and it took a good amount of self control not to smite him on the spot. Nikolai flashed a thumbs-up at the boy before jogging over to the spot where Zoya stood, arms crossed and glaring. He clasped her hand in his, opening his mouth to speak.

“Not one word,” she warned. “Not a single pun or I will have Tolya read you every Ravkan epic in existence while dangling you off the palace roof.”

“No puns,” he promised. “For now. I only ask that perhaps you let the sun shine through-”

“I will not sugarcoat my instructions for whatever reason.”

“The storm, my dear,” he said gently. “Not your teaching methods. We’re nearly soaked through.”

She glanced towards his dripping sleeves and the damp fabric of her own kefta. “Fine,” Zoya muttered grudgingly, raising her free hand to call away the storm and let the clouds fade to fog. “But enough of this foolery. I can’t have Damyen running around being able to summon lightning and having no idea how to wrangle it. He has to learn.”

“And he will. Let me work my magic and I’ll have him perfectly eager to learn to control his.”

“Without the puns.”

“With slightly less puns?” He asked, brow knit together as if the fate of his jokes were a matter of life and death.

Zoya frowned, but Nikolai’s pleading look wore away at her and she sighed. “Slightly less puns.”

His eyes lit up and he beamed, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “You won’t regret this,” he promised.

“Oh, I will,” she remarked drily. “But perhaps not enough to shock you again if you can manage the walking fire hazard.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” He bowed theatrically before turning and running back to Damyen with a ridiculous grin on his face, sunlight gilding his hair and shining in his gaze; his form so full of light that she couldn’t help but smile.

“Nikolai,” she called after him.

He turned, cocking his head. “Nazyalensky? Is everything alright?”

Zoya closed her eyes, sighing deeply. She opened her palm, summoning the smallest thundercloud, letting raindrops pool in her outstretched hand. “Right as rain, Lantsov.”

He laughed, and the sound, golden and unrestrained and bright, was worth every joke she’d ever have to endure.

#zoyalai #i am an idiot #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #horrible puns terrible puns #nikolai duology #grishaverse #tortoise tries to write #me

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sekceesimps · 3 years

Text

A Rose Made of Chains Ch 1

a/n Thanks for the 50 followers everyone! Keep sending us feedback and requests.

As promised here is chapter 1. Monday (tomorrow) night I’ll be publishing chapter 2 and then chapter 3 on Tuesday night. More info shortly but when we hit another milestone I’ll be publishing chapters 4-6.

Once again, thank you so much for the support! We never thought that we’d get this much appreciation from everyone. Hope you enjoy!

sincerely,

Coffee

Teaser Ch 2 Ch 3

teaser for part 2, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7

Kurapika (aged up) x Reader x Chrollo

Soulmate AU where you can find your soulmate through matching soulmarks.

Chapter 1

The rocking of the dingy boat made it hard for you to stand, but you did so nonetheless. Bitter water and a nervous type of air had taken over your senses. Your determination to get to the exam had forced you to ignore the wobbling of your legs ad you pushed yourself even further to get to the wheelhouse. When you had finally reached it, you noticed a small kid and two others also struggling to stay on their feet as the storm raged on. You had smiled queasily at the tall man with glasses. You don’t remember much during that moment, at least, not until the blonde passenger began a passionate speech. You tuned most of it out until you saw those glowing scarlet eyes, filled with fiery rage and fervor. Those eyes that haunt your dreams and still stick with you even now. You remember looking deep into that vermillion and knowing exactly who the blonde was in that moment. After his dramatic reveal, you yourself had quietly taken out your contacts and looked at him with a matching passion. In that moment, the two of you knew you were destined to be together, two survivors on the hunt for vengeance.

»»————-　　————-««

The exam itself wasn’t too rough for you. You and the blonde Kurta, who had later told you that his name was Kurapika, had shared stories as you ran together through the first phase with ease. You had learned that he had been the lone survivor of the massacre. He listened intently when you informed him that you weren’t fully part of the clan, but rather that your father had been and you were raised to be a hunter with your mother far away from the Lukso Province. At that time, you were still hesitant to tell him about your home life, wanting to only listen to him and memorize how he looked in case he was also taken from you. You had always believed yourself to be unlucky for inheriting the scarlet eyes. You had viewed it as a mark of death and a hideous trait from your father, as it had been drilled into your head for the past five years. You had confided in Kurapika about this self hatred, sobbing softly at the thought of you and your family being hunted down for them. You hoped these words wouldn't be intense enough for him to leave you too. When the both of you had reached the end of the tunnel, he had pulled you in close and told you that nothing was more important to him than protecting you, the last member of his clan. You remember how passionate he was with this promise, nuzzling his face into your hair. The rose surrounded by chains inked onto his wrist, the one that was also on your body, had gone unnoticed by you.

»»————-　　————-««

The second phase of the exam was when you truly began bonding with Kurapika’s companions. Your initial wariness, that his friends had initially interpreted as aloofness, began fading away as you took on a more helpful role for them, a role which would later turn into a sisterly one. After the examiner had let you all loose in the forest, you had quickly joined up again with the blonde Kurta, while also going with the people who were on the boat with you. The green haired boy named Gon and the tall man named Leorio stuck close as you led them through the foggy swamp. Through your trek, you had learned more about who they were and in that time you vowed to yourself that you would protect the young boy and try to help him on his quest to becoming a hunter. His demeanor and passion was something you admired and wished to see more of. You remember how in that trek, your small party had come across the magician named Hisoka that Kurapika had initially told you to be wary of before the exam had even started. You were all crouching and watching as the red haired man ruthlessly slaughtered a capable group of examinees. The rest of what happened was a little blurry to you, but you remember your anger when the magician had smirked at you and told you how ravishing you looked and in that moment you had chosen to fight. It had ended rather quickly, his combat skills were much better than you could have ever imagined. Somehow he had still managed to flirt with you while you and Gon tried to attack. You attributed your flushed red face to the fight rather than some of the steamy words he had whispered before tossing you to the ground. Hisoka had easily taken out Leorio but happily said that your group had passed, whatever that meant. The atmosphere was uncomfortable to say the least as you and your companion continued on your way. You and Gon successfully met up again with Kurapika and Gon’s white haired friend from the first phase. Kurapika had quietly asked if you were okay as he tended to a minor wound on your arm. You fondly remember the concentration on his face as you reassured him of your safety, no one you had ever met showed you this type of warmth before. That moment was when you had realized that you cared deeply for him.

»»————-　　————-««

The rest of the exam had been fairly unmemorable. There was a whole struggle with the gourmet hunters, but you had powered through with Kurapika at your side, as usual. The third phase was unfortunately when you and your new friends had gotten separated. The five of you had lined up on the tiles at the top of trick tower and jumped in. You didn’t know what happened to your companions, but you recognized the urgency of passing the phase and went down the dark hallway alone. You recall the surprise of meeting up with Hisoka during the test, teaming up to brave the last part of the tower together. The two of you ended up successfully being the first and second people to pass, with days left to spare. As the hours passed with you and the magician wordlessly sitting together in silence, you couldn’t help but think of what Kurapika and the rest of the boys were doing right now. Your anxiety only increased when other examinees continued coming through and the blonde was still nowhere in sight.

“Darling, what’s got you looking so stressed. Your eyebrows are too crinkled,” Hisoka had interrupted your endlessly running fearful thoughts about 50 hours into the exam. You only sighed and ignored him. “You know, we make an incredible team. I’d love to truly fight you one day. You have this certain aura that I would just love to break” he continued and licked his lips, looking down on you with eyes of pure malice.

“I’ve got a delicious idea that could tire you out easily,” the man grinned with mischief and scooted closer to you. You glared at him in response, frantically trying to push him away. He chuckles at your pitiful attempt, but leaves you be for now.

“Thanks for the concern, I guess. I’m just tired and I can’t seem to fall asleep.” you mumbled and fiddled with your hands. You wished that Kurapika were with you, his presence somehow always filled you with ease.

It was down to the wire, when your hope ran out and you had accepted that your companions would not pass this phase. Sighing you went to Hisoka for a conversation, at this point he was the only person you knew since everybody else around you filled you with uncertainty. It was at that moment that your four companions and some other guy burst into the clearing at the last possible second. You grinned and waved at Kurapika, but he wasn’t looking at you. Instead, he was glaring daggers at Hisoka, who had put his hand on your waist when you hadn’t noticed. You shrugged him off and gave the blonde teen the warmest of smiles. You hoped that it made his heart melt, he had seemed cold after you two had been seperated.

»»————-　　————-««

Zevil Island was unbearably hot. The whole area was much too warm for your liking. It was almost off putting how hot it was, a sharp contrast to the freezing cold demeanors of your fellow examinees. As you got off the boat, Gon had smiled and congratulated you on coming in second. This meant that you were one of the first to get off the boat and begin the trial. Kurapika looked far away as you had told him how you planned to stick by his side this time. He nodded solemnly as you told him that you would be off first so you would find him when he started. You had hidden in a tree and waited hours for him to finally get there. You remember grinning and how that instantly put him in a less tense position after you had jumped down and surprised him. You hoped that his ease with you was a sign that he cared about you too. Fortunately, neither of you had a target you knew, so you had both got your buttons fairly quickly, the two of you truly being excellent partners. The rest of the test was spent helping Leorio again, as the two of you powered through together, back to your friendly dynamic. You treasured how he said he wouldn’t let you out of his sight again. With that phase over, and all of you at rest before the final phase, you saw it fit to bring up soulmates with Kurapika.

“Kurapika! How are you.” You caught him as he was pacing the area in front of his room.

“Huh? Oh, hey Y/N,” he had grinned with surprise at seeing you, “do you want to go on a walk with me?” His invitation made your cheeks flush red, but you gave an enthusiastic yes and followed him. You talked about meaningless things like music taste at first, then your ambitions, your thoughts on the future, and then finally you brought up the one subject you were anxious about covering. You were beginning to have a suspicion that the blonde was your soulmate. The two of you had just gotten along so perfectly. It seemed like fate intervening when you two had met on that boat and he had revealed his identity. You hoped that it would be him who you’d spend your life with. He was so intelligent and calm. Not to mention, also incredibly attractive. You weren’t too sure how to ask him if he had a soulmate. Your own soulmark was inked onto your thigh, a place that made it hard for others to be able to identify you as their own soulmate. The placement made it much easier to pass off as someone without a soulmate. It was common for people not to have a soulmate now. In fact, it was also a common occurrence for people to lose their soulmate and then their mark would disappear. There were also terrible people in this world who would leave their soulmates, not everyone had a happily ever after and you were especially aware of this, your own parents being a soulmate couple that split up. The concept of a soulmate was once incredibly appealing to you as you grew up, but the more pain you saw in the world the more you gave up on the dream of a perfect partner determined by fate. Yet you silently prayed to whatever God that was listening for his mark to be a blooming rose being wrapped up by heavy chains.

“So, what are your thoughts about soulmates?” you inquired casually. He looked at you with a slightly surprised smile before answering,

“I think it’s definitely an interesting concept. I want to find someone one day. The idea of a person matching and completing my soul is so fulfilling. But it would be too much of a danger for me to have a soulmate right now. I want to meet them later, after I’ve done what I need to do. I just can’t have them be with me, it wouldn’t be fair to them,” he stated seriously, “what about you?” Those few words promptly break your heart. If you were his soulmate, you promised yourself in that instance to hold strong and wait for him. His heart is too heavy right now to take on the burden of you.

You sit next to him in silence for a bit, unsure of how to answer him, so instead you ask “What’s your soulmark,” breaking the awkwardness. He smiles and shows his wrist to you. In sharp contrast to his pale skin you see black and red marking his left wrist. A crimson rose encased in black chains, it matches yours perfectly. Your stomach drops. You don’t want to seem suspicious so you run your fingers lightly over his delicate skin and smile, you compliment the design and tell him how lucky he is.

“Y/N, can I see your soulmark” he had asked so sweetly and looked at you with the soft smoky eyes you had begun to love.

“I actually don’t have one,” you grin, trying to hide your pained words. It hurt you more than anything to lie to him, to have to see his small amount of joy dissipate. It’s all for the best you think to yourself. Someone as perfect as him shouldn’t have to weigh himself down with someone like me. You smile softly again and change the topic before wishing him a goodnight.

»»————-　　————-««

Passing the hunter exam and gaining your license didn’t fill you with as much excitement as you expected it to. You felt bad for Gon, seeing as his friend didn’t pass. You liked the green haired boy quite a bit and wanted to help him the best you could. So when your soulmate said that he was going to go off on his own and earn money for the auction, you decided in that moment that it was time for you two to part. You wanted to help Gon find Killua and you needed some time without Kurapika so that you could think of your own future. You told him this but not without a vow to see him again.

“I promise that I’ll see you again” you declared with angry resolve. Kurapika smiles softly and places a light kiss on your forehead. You sigh and interlocked your fingers with his for one last time.

“As do I,” he replied, backing away and waving to you and your travel companions. You were going to fight tooth and nail to see him again in York New City.

»»————-　　————-««

Icy water splashed across your frail sleeping form. You sharply gasp as the frigid splash wakes you from your dreams about the past. You don’t know how long you’ve been here or even where you are. You let out another sharp yelp in pain when a blade as quick as light rips the skin on your barely healed cheek apart. It always starts like this. A man comes in and jolts you awake, then he reopens the wounds from when they took you, before implementing some new form of injury. The last form of torture is always expected in your day and you weren’t sure in the first few sessions, but in all of them the same dark figure stood behind in the shadows. Watching but never saying anything. You were in agony at the end of every day, but your decisiveness remained the same each time. At the end of these sessions your torturer would ask if you wanted to join his group, you would let out a snarky reply saying no, then he would leave you in darkness for several days before coming back and starting it all over again. However, your resolve was becoming shorter and shorter with each passing day. You didn’t know if your friends even knew you were here. You were starting to believe that no one was coming to save you, no happy ending in sight. All you want is to see your blonde soulmate one last time. The dark quickly closes in again as the door closes shut, leaving you to your dream like state again.

a/n Chrollo in the next chapter, I promise. Please leave some feedback, as this is my first chapter fic. Anyways hope you enjoyed, Ch 2 out tomorrow!

~Happy Holidays!~

#kurapika #kurapika x reade #angst #smut #dub con #chrollo #chrollo x reader #x reader smut #soulmate au #kurapika x reader #soulmark #hisoka #hisoka x reader #fem!reader #kurta!reader #hunter x hunter #hxh #fluff

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abizarreyodelingincident · 4 years

Text

Our Nightly Confidant 3

Time for the Forgotten

He wonders. There's a question gnawing at him. Twilight knew. His wolf-boy had not wavered in the slightest when Time had suggested they could be related by blood. He'd been... serious. So serious. Scarily serious. It was a bit of a glance in his mirror shield. The reflection similar enough that it took some effort to mask it with nonchalance. Twilight hadn't been ashamed, more wistful and awed than anything after that talk with Malon.

But he had started to notice the way Twilight looked at him when no one else did.

Twilight knows. Twilight knows and he is a fine young man that Time is so, so proud of. He's not the favorite, because he can't have one. It's a different bond though (something like what he has with Warriors), and he always made sure to never let that influence his decisions on this quest.

The others don't doubt their place with the group. Not because of Time, at least. It's the least he can do for those incredible young men.

He just feels the question come and go in the dark. Twilight hadn't trained with a sword before his quest. Their technique is so similar however... He has to have been taught.

His heart hovers between settled and troubled, and it's the most innocuous thing that tips the balance.

A jab amongst others as they're cutting down wood for a fire, of all things.

Twilight, chainmail and shirt off, wipes sweat off his brows, an axe across his shoulders and a pile of neatly cut branches by his feet. “So slow,” he says, teasing his brother-in-arm a few trees over. “Didn't they run drills like those in the army?”

As always when pricked, Warriors heckles back. “Not every one of us was born in a barn, ranchhand!”

“For your information, I was found in the woods as a toddler, thank you very much,” Twilight replies, taking on an exaggerated snobbish accent. Or what he thinks passes as. It's a bit hard to tell with Twilight's countryside drawl.

The others laugh, join in the mockery, and they don't notice their leader taking a second to digest the news.

Twilight is his descendant. Twilight was adopted at too young an age to remember his birth parents. Might not even know their names.

And a wound he thought was closing suddenly bleeds inside him.

***

It's a slow evening, almost night, and they haven't encountered a monster in days. But he's reeling, his head spinning.

His mind is filled with questions he knows are futile. Pointless bites from a cruel, unknowable future.

Which of Twilight's parents had the Hero's blood? Was it a granddaughter or grandson that perished, leaving a little boy orphaned? Had they known? Twilight mentioned having the Triforce of Courage since as long as he could remember. Had his parents learned only then of the heritage? When their son was marked by fate?

Was it a lack of knowledge that had killed Twilight's birth parents? Training?

The Goddesses truly are cruel, to confirm all his greatest fear in the same breath they gave him a glimpse of triumph. He doesn't know how to feel.

Time knows he ought to talk to someone about those things. About the choice he'd been offered. Even if it felt like breathing glass, like baring his own naked flesh to the elements. He's done it before, mostly with Malon, bless his darling wife. He's spoken the words, cried in whispers and fallen asleep on a damp pillow with the arms of his love around him.

He let his Zelda erase all the suffering Ganondorf wrought, and that very act might have condemned his own to an ignominious death. Might have cost Twilight his birthright. Worse still is the knowledge Wind offered him: the timeline hadn't vanished either. What was the point then? A childhood he couldn't recover even with a child's body? A forsaken land threatened by a mad demon?

He should speak.

He... can't.

He sits down on a rock and ignores the few curious gazes of the boys when he pulls open his inventory. Other times, he might play with them, dance on their expectations and see their astonishment while he laughs inside.

He can't laugh right now.

His fingers close on the instrument, which sends a tingling of power through his hand. An ocarina to commune with the goddesses. He's not a pious man, never had the need, but as he raises the pipe end to his lips, it does feel like praying.

The Song of Healing.

Music to sooth pain beyond flesh and bones.

Why, then, does it only sound like screeching to his ears?

He put so many to rest in that forsaken place. Why can't he turn that power on himself? Why is he not allowed the slightest bit of-?

Something hits him in the chest. The last note of the song goes wild, off-key, and it stops the old memory playing in his head.

“Wolfie?” they call, some puzzled, a few like Wind rather ecstatic by the presence of the pup's beast form.

“... Did he just headbutt the old man?” Legend asks, smirking.

“Maybe the music hurts his ears?” Sky ponders.

Time doubts that. For one, Hylian ears wouldn't hurt enough for that kind of reaction even if he started playing as badly as he felt. No, it was the song that got Twilight into that state.

The whine Twilight makes pulls at some long dead heartstrings. Despite his size, worrying strength and undeniable intelligence, that sound alone gives Twilight the air of a kicked puppy.

The pup can't know, he tells himself. His heritage had been unknown to him until his quest, he mentioned that once. He can't know what the Song of Healing means, what playing it is supposed to do.

But the pain in Twilight's sky-blue eyes speaks otherwise.

“I suppose I ought to be more considerate of our canine friend,” Time declares, dusting off his pants. “My equipment could use a bit of maintenance.”

Busy work. The song had been a bad idea anyway.

As he stands though, he feels Wolfie's fang graze his hands and heels. Tug at his sleeves.

“Not sure he agrees with that,” Wild comments, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Wild knows what this is, and Time has the creeping idea that he's being herded like a goat.

“He'll have to get used to the idea,” he replies, more even than he feels.

The sympathetic feeling is starting to flicker at the repeated nipping. To be a hero, one needs to be stubborn. In this case, Time rather feels this is turning against him. He's rarely been the target of Twilight's protective streak. Fewer still as Wolfie. He is starting to understand that the style of comfort changed quite a bit during the transition. The inability to talk forces his protege to go physical.

And physical for a wolf...

Air is shoved out of his lungs as a massive weight crashes on his back.

“Not gonna work, pup,” Time bites out, trying and failing to keep walking as if nothing is wrong.

Wild's meals are far too rich if this is the result. A big lug of a wolf not knowing his place. He could shake him off, but now his pride is shouting for a decisive victory. He can't surrender so much authority at once. The group's survival and very continued existence depends on it!

His foot hits one of the logs they cut to sit. Of course.

Twilight chooses that moment to jump off. Of course.

Time has no time to brace himself for the puddle of mud. Of. Course.

Would the Goddesses strike him deaf so he doesn't have to hear the explosion of laughter shaking the camp!

His successor looks awfully smug, huffing and puffing on his side of the dead campfire.

Far too smug, in fact.

And, before he knows what's happening, Time finds himself chasing after that insolent youngster throughout the clearing under the thunderous laughter of seven other heroes.

Wolves are faster, but Time has far too many tricks up his sleeves to be bested. A hundred years of training might allow this brat to compete. MIGHT!

And when he collapses not too long after, it's side by side with an equally panting but not as annoyed pup.

He lets out a long sigh, his head lolling on a patch of moss, and the word is more mouthed than spoken: “Why?”

“Woof,” Twilight barks.

It's nonchalant, a little mocking and very much the non-answer Time would give in his place. He hadn't intended for his wall-building tactics to be turned against him this way. But, he supposes, a teacher can't always choose what his students will take from them.

There is, however, a clear hierarchy that needs reestablishing.

Time's grown up with eternal children. He has years of training in zero-ing of the most sensible weak spots in a body. Specifically, where one is most ticklish.

The effect is immediate, over-the-top and oh so satisfying.

Wolfie jumps five feet in the air. He tries to bolt, but in all his arrogance, hadn't realized he'd stayed too close to escape Time's grip.

(The others are watching with wide eyes as their glorious leader play-fights with their massive wolf-friend. Bets are, perhaps, being made.)

Only when the yipping sounds appropriately pitiful does Time give in and stop his ministrations. With a breathless laugh, he lets himself fall on his side, right next to his infuriating descendant. Clearly, Malon would have to be a stricter parent (Time knows he can't be one if his life depends on it) if this is the standard behavior to be expected of his lineage.

For a moment, Time lets himself lay there, on moist grass, half over, half under a wolf with behavioral problems. The thought, again, that he is promised a family line, that this irritating young man descends from him, soothes the old scars on his heart. Despite himself, his hand finds the soft fur and runs through the coat. He doesn't know the future. Few if none knows the full extent of his past. He's long learned to live in a world of strangers wearing friendly faces, of clueless happiness fueled by nightmares of events that, ultimately, never happened. He's a man of faded dreams, to be recognized only by the most precious few.

Some of the weight shifts, and Twilight's big head lies down on top of his chestplate, a soft glint in those gentle blue eyes. Time can hardly move, even if, at the moment, he finds himself comfortable enough resting with his eldest son.

… Which, now that he thinks about it, is what Twilight had been after all along.

“You damned nosy pup,” he says, smacking himself on the forehead. “It's not your job to worry. It's mine.”

The glare he receives goes straight to his soul. As if, it challenges. They really are the same on that front, aren't they? Him and his eldest?

Time can't even tell when it happened, but his chest doesn't feel tight anymore despite the added wolf head. His worries seem so much smaller when his descendant can wrestle-trick him into submission with ease. The boys would be alright.

“Thank you... ”

It's when he sits down by the campfire later that evening, glaring at a smug Twilight over his bowl of soup, that he suddenly realizes the ache has gone. That the bitterness of all his pain being forgotten just... didn't matter in front of that cheeky boy smirking at him.

Even his heart betrays him by going warm with pride. He's impressed.

It shouldn't be a surprise.

After all, his successor is descended from his Malon too. And she always knew best how to handle him.

“You're getting second watch tonight, pup.”

The grunt of annoyance is hardly repayment for a faceful of mud, but you take what revenge you can get. That's another lesson living with the kokiris taught him.

#Linked Universe #Linkeduniverse #LU Twilight #LU Time #LU Wolfie

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