#oh dear a return of my tag essays

[azullumi]

“grocery shopping” ; genshin men

summary — a certain notion appears inside your mind, like a lightbulb on top of your head as if you were having an eureka moment when in fact, you weren’t. it was just a silly idea in which you are curious to know the answer to. alternatively, just your average grocery shopping with him with a little twist and that being placing every item that you see into the cart.

includes — various genshin men (w/gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship, a sprinkle of domestic, set in a modern setting ; headcanons

words — 1215

note — honestly this is just me and my mom whenever we go out for groceries (i always put everything that i see in the cart) ; this is the first time i’ve written after so long, aside from those stupid essays i have to do for school

;; Will let you be, however, he will put some of the items back

He doesn’t show an ounce of care and will just let you have your fun, for now. Because yeah, sure, you can add that box of mugs that are identical to the ones you have at home, dear, but that doesn’t mean you’ll see it getting packed into the grocery bags; Oh, that ladle set sure does look nice (you won’t see it in your place ever). He’ll let you indulge in your pleasures and won’t deny you of it, however, so much can only one do in this economy and some of the things that you are putting in is exceeding that. He’ll put some of the things back whenever you are not looking, trying not to get noticed. Perhaps you won’t notice it at first when a few things are missing and somehow, the cart doesn’t seem to get full no matter how many you are adding to it. He’ll act so innocent and naive when you ask him about it, however, smiling at you softly and asking you what you are talking about. He’ll only tell you of it once you’re on your way back with the bags, expressing an apology that he has to remove some of the things in the cart that you added and you two will get it again next time.

Thoma, Baizhu, Tighnari, Venti

;; Will get another cart

Oh no, dear, the cart is full already? You just have to wait there and he’ll get another one for you, so for the meantime, you can scope and look out for other items that you want to get. One word, supportive. Or maybe he just loves to spoil you a lot. Either way, he clearly lets you do whatever you want; he’s a little bit of an enabler, perhaps. The weight of the groceries is nothing compared to the affection he has for you. You don’t even have to look at the price either—he advises you not to do so because that’s not really a concern (for him, atleast). Really, he loves you a lot to the point that he is willing to just watch you as he pushes the quite heavy cart and carries a basket like how you would carry a bag with just your arm (need yourself a man who’ll willingly push the cart for you and follow you around). He doesn’t mind it, it’s only one of the many things that he’ll do for you. There’s just one thing, however. You don’t know what you’re going to do with the pile of things you got so before paying it on the counter, you’ll have to return many of them.

Ayato, Pantalone, Diluc, Childe

;; Will be silent and confused but will let you be

At first, it starts off just like how it usually would: you grab some of the things that you need and want then place it in the cart as you two walk around the store and he simply lets you do as you want, just like your normal day of grocery shopping with him. Until several items were placed into the cart later and he had to question himself, why? Are those needed? What would you need a new blender for when there is a completely functional and working one at your home? He’s visibly confused but he will simply let you be because how could he stop you when you’re clearly enjoying whatever you are doing and he adores watching you in such light—you, simply, just walking and being with him has him falling head over heels for you. In lieu of that, it’s probably the reason why he’ll let you get away with doing some things including whatever you are doing (but that doesn’t mean he won’t be having any questions). Oh, how long the receipt will be. He will have to stop you as soon as the cart gets full and there is no more room for other important items, however. I mean, come on, there are more knives and cups there than there are for eggs and milk together.

Diluc, Zhongli, Xiao, Alhaitham

;; Will question every item you’ll put in

Is that really necessary? What’s that? Do you want it? He’s quite verbal on what is happening, becoming (your) voice of reason on this whimsical notion. His reaction is a mix of everything, he’ll let you add whatever you want but at the same time, he’ll place some of it back and would’ve stopped you from adding a few—perhaps he’ll also express his confusion, but never will there be annoyance: “Where are you going to use that for?” He’ll act more like a mother asking their child what in the world are they adding into the cart, just without the scolding part and telling you how it is expensive and you’re not the one paying for everything. He doesn’t mind you placing many things as long as they are essential and of necessity. He’ll let in a few of your wants here and there but not so much that it will consume half of the space of the cart. He’s more on the rational side of things, keeping you grounded to reality and that reality being the costs, the amount of things you’ll have to carry on the way back, and where you will even place some of those products that you completely don’t need.

Wanderer/Scaramouche, Cyno, Xiao, Kaveh

;; Will join you in adding those random things

All became a game of fun with him just as quick as you placed that one vase in the cart. Well, everything feels like a game with him even if it’s as simple as who’ll finish their food first. It’s silly, if you are going to be honest. You two were acting like children whose both of their parents lost sight of them at the store and are now running around the place, each with their own cart of their own (random) items. The competition? Who fills their cart first is the winner (with no duplicate items). Whenever you two would have an accidental encounter, you would check each other’s cart and see who has more then proceed to tease one another of who is the winner. However, the reality of the situation dawns over you two when you remember that you have to bring these things to the counter and pay for it—and the fact that you have to return, if not all, most of the items back to their proper places. By then, you two would have to start over the grocery shopping adventure again but this time, only with what is completely necessary in your cart. You’ll still have your own fun with him in this busy place, nonetheless.

Itto, Childe, Heizhou

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[rainpebble3]

WIP Wednesday/Teaser Thursday

Thank you so much for the tag @vivifriend

I did post a chapter but I can never resist teasing my poor readers.

This is from chapter 28 and I'm being incredibly mean to my characters. And by mean I mean beyond evil...

Guess who's going back to Windhelm???

.... Back to Nera's POV

All she knew was they were going to Dawnstar and that was it.

“What would I be doing on your trip?” Nera asked, she was careful to keep her tone deferential and not too questioning to appease Calmlinde, she didn’t want to piss her off again. She had bruises around her chin for days after last time. “I want to be useful,” she added swiftly.

“Oh my dear, you will be,” Calmlinde answered, patting her head. “You and Silm-Ra will help me uncover fragments of my stolen research, like you did when we went on our last trip.”

The last trip had definitely been beneficial for Nera. There was no denying that. She still read those books most evenings, with each time she could feel something settle inside her, another layer to her magic. Working with Silm-Ra made her skin crawl slightly, but she had gotten used to his presence over the last few weeks. He was always there, in every lecture.

Sighing, Nera rolled up her essay and tied the scroll with a piece of thread before drinking more tea. Calmlinde watched her quietly. Nera didn’t like it. Calmlinde was never more dangerous than she was when she plotted silently. The silence became deafening in the small common room.

“Is that your last assignment?” she finally asked pointing at the scroll.

Nera nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Yes, I was going to give it to Master Tolfdir before the Alteration lecture this morning.”

Calmlinde smiled. “So would that mean you’re finished for the semester?”

Nera fought back a frown, she could sense Calmlinde was building up to whatever she had to demand. She chose her words carefully as she answered. “There are still lectures over the next two weeks, but I suppose yes, I would be. Why?”

Calmlinde slid a note across the table to her. “A rather time sensitive request arrived today, just minutes ago actually. A matter of life or death and I’m the only mage available to answer it.”

Nera looked at the envelope with a frown, the writing was definitely desperate, and parts of the envelope were discoloured where tears had landed on it. “Really? What about Master Marence? If it’s that serious they would need a Restoration Master.”

Calmlinde’s eyes flashed and Nera bit her tongue. Obviously Calmlinde had snatched this request before the Masters and senior researchers could see it. It immediately made her suspicious and she wondered why Calmlinde brought it up.

“So, what’s the request?” she asked, keeping her tone even.

“Read for yourself,” Calmlinde said, her smug smile returning easily.

Nera had a horrible, sinking feeling about this but she did as she was asked. The envelope crinkled as she opened and looked over the request, her blood chilling at the contents. A young woman in Windhelm had been wounded with an incurable poison? Nera coughed and tried to clear her parched throat. The mere mention of Windhelm made her queasy.

“Falmer poison, gods… Wouldn’t Master Sleeps-In-Blossoms be better suited for this?”

Calmlinde took the envelope from her. “And you think I would pass up the opportunity to study this poison in action? Don’t be so foolish.”

Nera winced, recalling a passage in one of the books required for her Alchemy lessons. “It’s incurable though, or according to what I’ve read it is.”

Calmlinde’s teeth shone in the candlelight as she grinned. “So? Have you forgotten my area of expertise? Even if the girl passes away, it wouldn’t be for long.”

Nera shuddered. “I assume you intend to leave today?”

She was careful not to sound too hopeful, but two weeks without Calmlinde was dangerously tempting. It would let her enjoy the college more, spend leisurely afternoons in the Arcanaeum and even venture into town to take on some small jobs. She could earn some money and not need to depend on anyone else. Calmlinde’s next words dumped icy water over Nera’s flickering hopes.

“We will be leaving as soon as you deliver your little essay.”

“We?!” Nera squeaked, realising what Calmlinde meant. “As in…”

“You and I will be going to Windhelm before Dawnstar. Silm-Ra will also meet us there after dark.”

[anulithots]

Welcome, non-plant beings, my creatures of night and nonsense, my dear audience, to this weird and wonderous collection of mine.

I promise you won't be told a story with an answer, with some "here's how I fixed my life & the journey it took to get there" I promise that there won't be a "hope to get better" which makes now feel so stark in contrast. I promise I wont make it seem simple or linear or a sudden "aha moment" to make things suddenly seem clear.

What I promise is a story, to the best of my ability, where there are no weeds to pull. no seeds to plant, no fruits to pick. The garden will grow and die, change & cycle back to the beginning. And through it all, in this moment with the dappled sun reflecting off the dew, the weeds in a thick blanket, forgotten fruit as a feast for the birds - we are wild and it is beautiful, no matter how much they want a cultivated, perfectly trimmed and oh-so-stale-garden.

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TL;DR - I'm currently in a Link Click hyperfixation, and I my main WIP is the Land of the Fallen Fairies. I also have a biology fanfiction and a teddy bear nightmare warrior story on the side. And I like being asked about character analysis, whether that be my own characters or any character from this list + characters from LInk Click

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How the fae/faer/faerself pronouns work

Open to tag games and asks and... literally anything.

Name's Noor/Noorie btw. Closeted genderfluid and aspec (queer platonic/split attraction model... or whatever this is). Pronouns are they/them, it/its and anything fancy.

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Each of the subsections leads to masterposts for everything! (The intro post got waaayyy tooo long)

The Land of the Fallen Fairies.

A nature-themed commentary on the pursuit of happiness and fixing yourself to deserve that happiness, told by an overthinking, unreliable, houseplant narrator.

Zine

Uquiz

TW: self-hatred, suicidal thoughts, and self-deprecation.

Anuli's story collection.

Anuli's (and my) favorite stories from around tumblr

Jujutsu Kaisen Hyperfixation

As the name suggests, I am hyperfixated. I have also written essays analyzing these characters. Be very afraid. And/or come suffer with me /pos

Also also, for those who don't want to see any JJK smut, this blog should be safe for you! <3 I ship Satosugu but in a... transcend labels, queer platonic flavor sort of way. And I flipflop on itafushi. Either way they are soul mates and transcend labels. Found family dynamics and everlasting friendships/comfort people are peak fiction for me.

Link Click Hyperfixation

They are my everything. They can live in my head rent free foreverrr.

Tumblr's houseplant garden.

Growing a garden of houseplants based off this weird thing called existence, "planted" by others from tumblr.

Fantasy Frog and Toad

A story about two princes cursed to be a frog and toad because they couldn't decide on whether to be self-determined and individualistic, or be traditional and family oriented, because why can't you be both?

_______________________

Tagging system

#link click <-- the collection of link click things I shall hoard like a dragon

#the land of the fallen fairies <-- everything related to the land of the fallen fairies (following this one would be a good idea if you want random updates, or you can join the tag list <3)

#feelings are weird <--- random snippets of Russian Roullet of whether I'll snap or not, along with some sideways spiraling. (this is different from the next tag, but it takes a lot of time to explain how so.)

#I'll fill my grave with fanart <-- doom posting specifically. Apparently I've learned how not to snap and I want to return that but the manager won't answer my phone calls.

#Anuli's favorite stories <-- Stories that I and Anuli like. (Give or take, Anuli faerself has a slightly different taste than I do... but here's the tag)

#plant posting <-- whenever I talk about houseplants

#Noorie listens to songs on loop <-- My inconsistent music taste (you get iphone piano ballads... just saying)

#Noorie infodumps. Be very afraid. <--- My rambling tag

#jjk <-- I reblog stuff without tags, so everything of mine that's jjk related will have this tag

my favorite post on tumblr

[battinscn]

QUIDDITCH ACCIDENT — oliver wood x f! reader

CONTENT WARNING: oliver getting hurt/ injury

SUMMARY: when oliver gets into a quidditch accident, you rush to the hospital wing to ensure that he’s alright.

WC/ AVG. READING TIME: 745 words/ 5 minutes

return to the oliver masterlist here

"I HAVE PRACTICE now love," oliver closed his potions textbook.

"mhmm, i'm gonna finish up my essay then i'll go to the field and watch you practice," i continued scrubbing in my parchment.

"alright, see you princess," oliver walked over and placed a kiss on my forehead.

i left my dorm and walked onto the quidditch field only to see the hufflepuff team practicing.

i left my dorm and walked onto the quidditch field only to see the hufflepuff team practicing.

i left my dorm and walked onto the quidditch field only to see the hufflepuff team practicing.

was it not gryffindor's turn to use the field today?

cedric saw me on the field and flew down to where i was.

"hey ced, where's oliver and the team?"

"you didn't hear? oliver fell off his broom during practice, they're all in the hospital wing right now."

before cedric could get a reply from me, i started sprinting back into the castle rushing to the hospital wing.

when i got to the entrance of the hospital wing, the other 6 gryffindor team members were waiting outside.

"hey y/n," fred greeted.

"where's ollie is he okay?" i asked frantically.

"mdm pomfrey's attending to him now, she made us wait outside," george explained.

i started nervously chewing on my nails, pacing back and forth.

i hope ollie's okay.

"stop pacing y/n you're making me dizzy," harry put a hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me.

"how did this even happen?" i asked with an exasperated sigh.

"well oliver was discussing strategies while we were in the air and quite literally slipped off his broom," angeline explained.

the double doors of the hospital wing opened, revealing mdm pomfrey.

"how's oliver? is he alright?" i bombarded the matron with questions.

"yes ms y/l/n, he's awake and healed now. only one of you may visit him as he is still not feeling his best," mdm pomfrey informed us and we thanked her.

fred was about to walk into the wing when angeline and katie pulled him back, "let y/n see him you dimwit," alicia smacked his chest.

"oh, right. sorry about that mrs wood," fred grinned at me, using his fingers to salute me.

i hurried past the doors and saw an injured oliver lying on one of the hospital beds

"godric ollie what did you do," i gasped at the cuts and bruises littered all over my boyfriend's body.

"well hello to you to darling," oliver managed to stifle out a chuckle.

"are you alright? does it still hurt?" i placed a hand on his cheek.

"i'm doin' just fine dear no worries. i'm a big boy," oliver held his head high.

"alright alright," i ran my hands down his arm, earning me a wince from the boy.

"and you said it doesn't hurt," i rolled my eyes at the prideful boy.

"maybe just a lil," oliver scrunched his nose up.

i rolled the sleeve of his uniform on his arm and placed a soft kiss on the scratch.

"where else does it hurt?"

oliver lifted up his shirt slightly to reveal an almost healed gash across his abs. i placed another soft kiss on it.

oliver then pointed to his forehead, and i kissed the bruise on it.

then his cheek, which had a cut on it.

when i had kissed almost every injury on his body, i sat down on the edge of the bed and combed oliver's hair with my hands.

"love, there's one more part that hurts," oliver pointed to his lips.

"even while injured you're still cheeky arent you?" i teased the boy.

he only pouted his lips and closed his eyes waiting for the contact.

i leaned down to his face and placed a loving kiss on it.

"i love you so much oliver duncan wood," i mumbled against his lips.

"i know," oliver smiled into another kiss.

join my taglist here!

tags: @haroldpotterson @pattnscn @lilytoyourjames @daddysfucktoyslut @eleventhboi

[somestuffbysomebird]

A Tale of Gluttony and the Human

Warning(s): A panic attack, self-deprecating mannerisms, implications and thoughts that deal with depression and anxiety (Thoughts that deal with them are skippable, so is the panic attack. They're all in one section, so I labelled them if you want to skip them)

Tag(s): Hurt/Comfort, (is this considered angst?), this was pretty self-indulgent, slight changes to the pacing that happens in lesson 6, cause we need more soft moments, could be seen as platonic or pre-romance.

Word count: ~2k (Oh dear lord it's long)

The author would like to express that depression and anxiety are experienced differently by different people, and this was based on the author's own experiences. Please do not use my work (or anybody else's) as a reason to gatekeep or harrass people who say they have depression or anxiety.

Summary: Beelzebub notes about his experiences with the exchange human. (Takes place until the end of lesson 6, so spoilers)

[Beel is best boy, you can't change my mind and I simp so much for him man...I'd write an essay about him if I had the time...]

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

- When they first stumbled in the Devildom, the Avatar of Gluttony didn't care much for the human. Save for how'd they taste like with some honey, and maybe a bit of roast....mmm

- He didn't really care much for the human when they asked about the attic either, but he knew Lucifer would get mad, and he didn't want to deal with an angry Lucifer, so he had to shut down the human's idea fast. He told them it wasn't any of their business, which was pretty true.

- To be really honest, he may have felt a twinge of annoyance whenever he looked at the human. Every reminder of their existence just relayed the abscence of his twin. If they weren't here, if there wasn't any exchange programme to begin with, maybe Belphie would be there instead.

- But alas, the milk has been spilt, so he'll wait, the sooner the human's gone, the sooner Belphie would be back.

- He didn't really care much for the human when they managed to get a pact with Mammon, the demon is was fooled by lesser methods before, so this wasn't a surprise, but when the human challenged Levi to a TSL quiz, he suspected something was up.

- The demon knew humans were stubborn creatures, and he still didn't trust the human. Maybe if he helped the human win against Levi, it'll be easier to keep an eye on them. They were up to something, and he had to keep his family safe. A human collecting pacts left and right should definitely be a cause of concern.

- A movie night? That means popcorn right? And he'll keep an eye on the human, meaning that it's a win-win. Mammon seemed pretty happy with the human, and the human seemed to be smiling as well. Maybe...they didn't seem so bad.

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

TW: A pretty detailed panic attack is up ahead, this part's skippable. Just skip ahead to the same dashed line to return to Beel's side of the story

You wake in the Devildom again, to walls that you've grown familiar with, but something was different today. You found yourself sandwhiched between Mammon and Beelzebub, both sound asleep.

This was oddly comforting, the laptop on the bed was shut closed, and the only that could be heard in the room was the beating of the heart of....yours? Beel's? Mammon's? You couldn't tell.

As you enjoyed the sweet reprieve from the craziness that begun ever since you arrived in the Devildom, your mind begans to wander....

Yea this world has been crazy, everything you knew as a myth is practically real, and you're now in a very dangerous place where one move could bring you to your demise.

But did you really, really think you had it any better up there?

....Huh?

The sounds of the streets, the silence of your home, the feelings of emptiness, now that you're absent, what would the people close to you do? When they find that you're unharmed, how are you going to explain that?

How are you supposed to talk about this? No one would believe something as outlandish as the Devildom, and you know yourself. You know you'll mess up on explaining. That'll just make you look worse. They'll start to question you, with those accusatory glances will make you freeze up. Yes, you can see them already, just like you have so many times. They've never trusted you, Hell, they probably never really liked you. How are you supposed to expect to not look like a crazy person to them?

The air suddenly felt too stagnant. The comforting space you were in suddenly felt like a cage. It's too restrictive. Get out. You need to get out.

You had to calm yourself. Your mind is dizzy, but you had to keep quiet. Don't wake them up.

Don't be more of a trouble than you already are.

Stumbling into the bathroom, you barely managed to pull it together as you quietly closed the door. Before the pain in you head throbbed. Your heart hurts, like it's squeezing itself out, wanting to be rid of all the heaviness it feels. You can feel the sense of dread seeping through your veins, and a voice within you, small, but desperate is screaming, let me out. But where to? Another voice, your conscious probably, whispers. You're already out of that life for now, but you still aren't happy? Don't you think you're being overdramatic right now?

You shut your eyes close, trying to regulate your breathing, trying to shut out the noises in your head. Silent voices scream into your ears, which is strange cause there's no movement in the air and you can't feel their breath but why does it sound so real just shut up shut upshutup-

A quiet knock snaps you out of drowning in your thoughts. You head is still fuzzy, and you've somehow fallen on the floor of the bathroom. You're facing the door, and can see a shadow from the bottom of the door. Oh no.

A small part of you wanted to panic, but another part was silent, calm even. And that was the part that took control. You silently, got to your feet, turning on the tap, you quickly washed your face. Drying your swollen, red eyes, you rehearsed the lines you've always said in these situations. The lines that you knew by heart, with a voice you trust to remain steady after so, so much practice.

Greeting you was a black shirt, Beel's shirt, to be exact. And despite the tears that still threaten to pour, you willed yourself to shut them out. You can't appear to be soft. Not here. Not again.

"MC....?"

End of TW

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

- He woke up expecting to buried in a pile of two bodies, only to be greeted with Mammon lying beside him, snoring away, arms encircling an empty space. He heard a sound from the closed bathroom door, and it sounded like it belonged to the human.

- As he quietly approached the door, avoiding to wake the second eldest, he started to make out the hastened, distressed mumblings that made his brows furrow.

"Shut up shut up shut-"

- He quietly knocked on the door, and the mumurings quickly stopped. He could hear something shift on the floor, the turning of the tap, and the rushing of water.

- He didn't expect the door to be opened to quickly. Nor did he he expect to see swollen red eyes briefly glancing at him, a hint of raw emotion he couldn't identify found within them.

- He tried to call their name, wanting to ask if they were alright, but the human simply grinned at him, their smile too wide, and with words that seemed too practiced to feel sincere. When he finally looked at their eyes once again, there wasn't a spark of life within them.

- The human started to pay more attention to him after that morning. their leftovers would normally be given to him, and in school, they'd pass him some snacks whenever they met during lunch. The incident was never brought up by them, and he'd respect their privacy. If they ever did want to bring it up, he'll listen to them.

- He started to notice many other things about the human over time. The way those eyes were almost always lifeless, unless it's when talking to his brothers.

- Mammon's antics that landed him in trouble would always be met with the comfort of the human, whether they'd be in the form of a hug, or pets on the head. His tendency of get in trouble gave the human no time for their eyes to return to their dullness, as they were always focused on the whims of the second eldest, every action by the Avatar of Greed would fill those eyes with different emotions.

- Leviathan as well, made an effect on the human's mood. They would always cheer him on as they watched him play, joining him in his rant when criticising a new anime or game came out, or just coaxing him out of his self-deprecating moments. It was during those times Beel would notice how the human smile warmly at the Avatar of Envy, with steady words and reassurances, and in rare moments, he'd sometimes catch MC cuddling his older brother, their hands and chest covering his head, as muttered words that seemed to calm him down, as if shielding him from the rest of the world.

- It took a comment from Satan for Beel to realise that he was staring at MC alot, but he just continued anyway. He liked seeing their face with so many emotions, although the sparkle of their eyes and that uncontrolled smile of pure happiness was one which made him feel the fuzziest inside.

- After the custard incident, Beel was supposed to be roomed with the human for the time being. The human almost slept on Belphie's bed, but he knew they couldn't sleep there. That belonged to Belphie, and that bed was waiting for it's owner. He let the human sleep on his own bed instead, he doesn't mind the couch, even if the human protests, he already made up his mind.

- During the first few nights he didn't notice any changes from the human. Polite conversations were commonplace, and since small talks were never his strong suit, he allowed the comfortable silence set in as a substitute instead.

- Then Luke came into the picture, now the silence would be filled with endless chatter of the chihuahua, and the human would pet his head as they hopped through countless topics, sometimes Beel would join in the conversations with them. Sometimes it'd be about the lore of the three worlds, other times, it'd be about baking, which directly turns to food, and then a heated debate about the best restaurant or dessert. The once dead silence of Beel's room was filled with life again.

- After sneaking his own food up to his room, MC would give him parts of their own food as well. "You'd need it more than I do, and I'm not hungry right now." Was their response, and they refused any take backs from the demon.

- He's grateful, he really was. But he knew that they already cut their portions for Luke. Was this really okay?

- After the confrontation with Lucifer and Luke was sent back to Purgatory Hall, Beel stayed by MC's side, his eyes trailing over their sleeping face. Why did they defend him? He thought about all of his past experiences with the human. This human just stood up against one of the most powerful beings in the Devildom without so much as a flinch, and refused to back down for either his or Luke's lives. Were their roles swapped, would he even be able to do the same? To stand against Lucifer? For the human-no, MC?

- While he mulled over his thoughts, the demon heard a groan from the bed. As MC eyes opened, they saw his frame, and immediately asked about him. Why are they still worrying about him? He didn't deserve this care. If anything, he should be the one apologising, he should've hid Luke better, should've checked the closet more throughly, should've prepared better for Lucifer's checks, he could've done so many things better-

- He was half-way through his ramblings when he felt a weight on his hand, causing him to pause mid-sentence. MC looked into his eyes, and he saw a swirl of emotions within them. Now that was new.

- Sensing as he didn't pull away, MC slowly, gingerly even, took his hand, thumbs tracing mindlessly on his palm, eyes moved to focus on those movements instead. Under his curious gaze, they stayed silent for a second longer, as if comtemplating their words, before they finally spoke.

"Whatever happened to Luke, me, Belphegor or Lilith, none of it was your fault. I know you won't believe it, and I know it'll take much more than words or time to lessen the pain but..."

- Their eyes met his again, this time, he recognised the emotion felt in those eyes. He remembered the incident that felt like eons ago, that morning, by the bathroom door. That time, it was an accident, he didn't mean to intrude when they were vulnerable.

- But now? Both of them seemed to be pretty close to crying honestly, and the human seemed to be smiling, it was a small one, but it seemed so much more genuine than that grin from long ago.

"Please don't carry it all by yourself."

- Wounds can heal overtime, but there are always bound to be scars that will remind you time and time again of their existence. They may act like an itch that you can never scratch at best, but they can also be that unwanted visitor that invites themselves into your place even after you shut the door in their face.

- There'll be time to unpack all of the boxes full of dusty memories, another time will come to deal with Belphegor, Lucifer, and all other matters that happen outside the room. That night, however, two beings: one human and one demon, swore a silent oath to support each other through their own burdens, and their bond forged even after that night was stronger than any pact that could exist.

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

What Dany stans do with Dany , you do the same thing with Jon and Sansa .

Okay, nonny...I’ll admit it. I have a bad memory, so by all means pass on receipts, but in the mean time let me try and find all the times I've written about how Jon or Sansa's feelings and intentions excuse their actions (since I'm assuming you are referring to this post here).

Let's start with Sansa. 

Outside of fan-fiction, which is totally separate than canon analysis, I’ve written about Sansa Stark in the context of the books exactly once. 

While she is great and all, she’s not all that exciting for me to analyze...her potential is there, and I think her chapters are sad and lovely to read, but we’re five books in and she’s yet to have much of any power, and power is largely what I’ve been interested in examining when I have the urge to write. That being said, there is a meta or two hanging out there, written by others, about what Sansa does with the little agency she does have, and I found them to be interesting reads. Perhaps a kind soul will drop some links. 

But I digress. This is about me...and what I do with Jon and Sansa, right? 

Even in my tiny nothing post about Sansa, did I use her feelings to justify her many crimes? (Since, again, I’m assuming that is what I’m being accused of. Your ask was a bit vague, nonny. Please work on your specificity next time.) 

Well, what are her feelings? Oh yeah. She’s very upset about being forcibly married to Tyrion after spending months as a prisoner of war. What a baby. 

What are her actions? Minimizing Garlan and Leonette’s concern for her well-being by putting on a brave face and telling them she is well. Jerk.

What was my conclusion? Let me just quote myself: 

I’m sorry, but who reads passages like this and thinks, “ugh, Sansa…what a conniving villain”. I re-read the chapter where Sansa is married to Tyrion and the whole thing makes me want to cry. Also, all the kudos to Ser Garlan Tyrell and his wife, Leonette for making an effort to comfort a traumatized child.

I don’t know, nonny.

 If you want to use that post to write an essay about how Sansa’s courtesy is actually a cover for her great crimes of poisoning Sweetrobin and killing Mycah...by all means go for it. 

Now on to my boy, Jon. Let the evidence of favoritism commence!

I’ve definitely written more about our sad bastard in the North than I’ve written about Sansa, so I’m sure we’ll find some fruitful returns on your accusation here. 

How has one currently dead Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch fared beneath my pen? 

Well, there is the post that I cannot find because Tumblr is a black hole and I’m bad at tagging, where, if I remember correctly, I said I’d never forgive Jon Snow for what he did to Gilly and her baby.

But, without evidence, I suppose that isn’t admissable in a court of fandom discourse, is it? 

All is not lost dear nonny. Do not fear. I apparently can’t shut up about the topic. 

First, I have this ask where I must totally defend Jon because he’s obviously my fave, right? Wrong. I accuse him of hubris and abuse of power. 

Regardless of his noble intentions with the baby swap, Jon displays a lot of hubris in thinking that he can control what happens to either child afterwards, that the greatest danger is Mel’s zealotry, and that his intentions make his actions excusable. I think he is wrong on all three counts.

He abuses his power over Gilly and meddles in a situation he has no authority over because he knows he has no such power over Stannis or Mel.

Hm.

I also used this ask, about a totally different subject, to wax on about the same topic, because as I said, I can’t shut up about it (or Daario). Surely, in this one, I talk about how flawless and awesome Jon is, right? 

Oh yeah, I call him an utter ass, a potato, a manipulative little shithead, and a coward. 

But please, go on about how I give Jon a free pass. 

I’m bored now, nonny, but if you want to make this interesting with an actual rebuttal essay, where you point out all the times I’ve forgiven Jon for his misdeeds because of his lonely bastard vibes and plain-at-best looks, I’ve made the endeavor easier for you by linking out to my other mentions of Jon Snow. 

Have at them. 

Jon and Dany foil ask

What sort of man can stand by idly and watch his own brother being burned alive?

Qhorin and Jon by the fire

Chispas Does a Meta, Pt. I and it doesn’t even mention Daario

Chispas Does a Meta, Pt. II - Let’s Build a Fire & Make Speeches!

Chispas Does a Meta, Pt. III - Murders & Miracles! Yay!

Thanks, I guess, for giving me an excuse to make a master post linking to my “metas” about Jon and Sansa. If you choose to return, please bring me something more interesting to chew on. I bore easily, but love to play. 

[fanfics4all]

Love Potion

Request: Yes / No 

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 1023

Warnings: Nothing 

Y/N: Your Name 

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

A/N:   Bingo card made by @slyttherins​

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

*Fred Weasley’s POV*

Y/N sat at her table with her friends, smiling and laughing with them. Her smile was brilliant and mixed with her amazing laughter, brought a smile to my face. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, she was bloody incredible. 

“Freddie, you're staring again.” George said, nudging my arm. 

“Am not.” I said, taring my eyes away from her. 

“Sure you’re not, love bird.” He smirked and I rolled my eyes. 

“I’m not in love with her.” I said and he laughed. 

“Whatever you say Freddie.” He smirked. I didn’t think anything of that smirk, but knowing my brother I should have. 

A few weeks later Y/N had asked me if I could help her with an essay she was having trouble with. I was shocked that she asked me when she could have asked Hermione, but I wasn’t going to say no. I walked into the common room and found Y/N talking with George. He was offering chocolate and I was confused, we haven’t been to Hogsmead in a while. 

“Oh Freddie, you’re finally here! I’ll leave you two be.” He said and got up, walking up the stairs. 

“Fred! Sorry, I came a little early.” She said. 

“I see George let you in.” I said as I sat down. 

“Yeah, he said you were out getting something for a prank?” She asked and took a bite of chocolate. 

“George asked me to get something.” I nodded. There was something strange about this situation, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. 

“Well, are you ready to work on the essay?” She asked and I nodded. The two of us got to work, and everything was normal. I still had a slight feeling that something was off. After a little while Y/N had stopped writing and I glanced at her. Her pupils were dilated and she looked slightly lost. 

“Y/N? Are you alright?” I asked. She looked at me with a smile and blushed. 

“You’re so cute Freddie.” She said and I furrowed my brow. 

“U-Uh thanks?” I said with a slight blush. 

“D-Do you think we could take a break from the essay? I can’t really focus on anything but you.” She said and my eyes widened. She would never say anything like this, something was wrong. Y/N was the typical shy little Hufflepuff, but this is so unlike her. I glanced down at the chocolate box and saw she had eaten a few. 

“Y/N, did George say where he got these chocolates?” I asked. 

“No, he said you got them for me.” She said. 

“George!” I shouted, getting up. 

“No, don’t leave, please.” Y/N begged with a slight frown. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” I said with a smile. 

“You rang Freddie?” George asked with a smile. 

“What are in those chocolates?” I asked, crossing my arms. 

“I have no idea what you mean my dear brother.” He said innocently. 

“Don’t you lie to me George.” I said annoyed. 

“There might be a little bit of a love potion.” He smirked. 

“You better have the antidote.” I said, growing angry that he would even think about doing that to sweet little Y/N. 

“It wasn’t that much, it should wear off in a few hours.” He said with a shrug. 

“George! Either you give me the antidote or you go make it!” I growled. 

“Alright, alright!” He said, putting his hands up in surrender. 

“It’s in my trunk.” He said. I grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her with me to our room. I can’t believe George would do something like this!

“Where are we going?” She asked. 

“We’re gonna make you better.” I answered. 

“Better? But I’m not sick?” She said and I chuckled. We got into our room and I sat her on my bed. I rummaged through George’s trunk and found the little bottle that would bring Y/N back. 

“Here Y/N/N, drink this.” I said handing her the small vial. 

“What is it?” She asked, examining the light blue liquid. 

“It’s a little drink that goes well with the chocolates I got you.” I answered. She smiled up at me and drank all of the small vial. I watched her and after a moment her eyes returned to normal. 

“What happened? My head feels a bit fuzzy.” She said and held her head. 

“George thought it would be a great idea to slip you a love potion in those chocolates you ate.” I sighed. Her head shot up and her face was incredibly red. 

“Please tell me I didn’t say anything embarrassing.” She said and I smiled gently. 

“Not really, you said I was cute and that you couldn’t focus on the essay because you couldn’t focus on anything but me.” I said and she hid her face. 

“Oh Merlin! That’s so embarrassing!” She said. 

“Did you mean it?” I asked quietly. She glanced at me for a moment and bit her lip. 

“What would you like me to say?” She asked, now it was my turn to blush. 

“I suppose this was George’s plan all along.” I sighed. 

“What do you mean?” She asked. 

“George was always telling me to just tell you how I feel.” I said with a slight chuckle. 

“How do you feel?” She asked. I sat down next to her and gently took her hand. 

“I really like you Y/N, you are incredible and I fancy you.” I admitted. 

“I fancy you too Fred.” She whispered with a blush. 

“I knew it would work!” George cheered. The two of us looked up at him and I glared. 

“Get out!” I shouted and he ran off. 

“I’m sorry about him, maybe it would have been easier to just tell you my feelings earlier.” I said and she giggled. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t have been as interesting.” She said and I smiled. 

“I knew I liked you for a reason. Maybe I could get you to join me in getting back at George.” I smirked. 

“I would love to.” She smiled. Maybe she’s not an innocent little Hufflepuff after all.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie​ @tashy-bear​ @ashwarren32​ @hollie-blogs-blog1​ @schisbro87​ @lover-of-books-and-teas​ @nerdygaloresposts​ @teenwolfbitches2​ @genius2050​ @drw0301bieber​ @lady-of-lies​ @ravenmoore14​ @ravenempress101​ @cillianchamp​ @rowanthomasknapp​ @rachelxwayne​ @in-slytherin-we-trust​ @accio-rogers​ @sambucky8​ @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @vanessa-kom-skaikru​ @impulse-anchor​ 

[ningningsplushie]

The Cute Barista

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Word count: 2263

Genre: Pastel cafe?? Jimin being a comforting person :3

Summary: Your favourite barista has moved away and in her place is the ever charming Park Jimin. Can he comfort you just the same?

Warnings: Cringey pick up line (rip but it fit well with the story), stressed and upset reader

After a long day, a trip to the cafe was exactly what she needed. Classes were kicking her ass, what with essays, assignments, and presentations piling up on the daily, not to mention her trying to keep up with work and her own personal life. A calming sit-down, with a nice book, along with her favourite barista, Hwa Young, would surely cheer her up. 

Opening the door to the cafe, the smell of brownies and buttercream frosting immediately wafts up her nose. The overall atmosphere of the place, with its pastel pinks walls and baby blue trimming, its bubbly aura due to the dainty display of desserts, large windows, and sweet jazz music instantly calms Y/N after a hectic day. 

Walking up to the cash register, she realizes that Hwa Young isn’t at her usual station, neither is she wiping down the tables or serving customers. 

She spots a blond boy standing in place of her favourite barista and decides to ask for her whereabouts. “Excuse me, I was wondering where Hwa Young was?”

The boy looks up from the till and gives her a warming grin, cheeks almost covering his eyes. My, he’s really handsome. Handsome, however, was an understatement. His face had an innocent, boyish charm to it, with large, honest eyes, plump lips with a subtle cupid’s bow, and a soft jaw. 

“I suppose you’re in the dark about her.” Hearing this, Y/N grows worried and the boy sees this. “Oh don’t worry,” he scrambles, panicking for frightening her, “she just moved to Japan for university. She left just last week.” 

She left? Crestfallen, Y/N looks to the ground. Damn, I was really looking forward to seeing her. “Really? It’s just...she has a really comforting aura and it was something I needed right now. I suppose I won’t be getting that ever again, if not ever again.” 

Y/N realizes her mistake of oversharing and clasps a hand over her mouth with wide eyes. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. The last thing you need right now is for a stranger telling you her problem.” 

The new barista chuckles, “It’s alright, my sister was a big help to a lot of people so I understand.”

“Yeah, she- wait. Sister? She was your sister?” Y/N squeaks out.

“Is, not was. She’s still here with us, just far away. But yeah, after she left I decided to take her place here to help our mom run the cafe.” 

“That’s sweet of you…” finding no reason to stay any longer she decides to leave, picking up her wallet from the counter. “Anyways, I’ve got to go, but uhhh, thank you for telling me about your sister. Have a nice day-” she reads the boy’s name tag. “Jimin. I’ll be going now.”

Just as she’s about to turn, Y/N feels a grip on her wrist, disabling her from leaving. Jimin looks at his hold on Y/N and quickly lets go. 

“Listen, I know you’re not exactly in the best of moods right now and I know I’m not my sister but please, stay and give yourself a rest.”

She considers his comment for a moment before turning back to him and offering a tight-lipped smile. 

“Alright. I’ll have a medium honey latte, please,” she says, offering Jimin money for her order. 

Taking the money from her, he gives a mock salute, chest puffing out. “Coming right up, Miss.” 

Y/N can’t help but giggle at his gesture, hands going up to cover her smile.

“Yeahhhh! That’s what we like to hear. My goodness, if I knew your smile was this bright, I never would have bothered to change the light bulbs in the chandeliers.” Jimin puts his arms out as if protecting himself from a bright flash and at this, Y/N laughs some more. Giving the barista some more material, he pretends to swoon, resting the back of his on his forehead. “Wow, wow, wow. I might as well just shut off our radio too. Your laugh sounds much nicer.”

Y/N blushes, earning a “cute,” from Jimin but then composes herself. “Call me Y/N, please.”

Nodding, he begins tinkering with the espresso machine. “Y/N, I might not be as comforting as my sister but I’m certainly more charming and cuter than her, aren’t I?” throwing a wink to the girl. 

Y/N rolls her eyes and replies, “You guys share half of the same DNA.”

“That’s true but my DNA gave me the upper hand in looks.” Y/N couldn’t deny that. She couldn’t stop staring at his lips, how they formed when he smiles, or the position they were in whenever he pouted whilst concentrating. 

“Alright, one medium honey latte for Y/N,” he whoops, placing the porcelain cup before her. 

“Thank you so much.” Taking a sip from her drink, she closes her eyes in pure bliss, the warmth of the latte spreading throughout her body. 

“How is it? Is it too sweet? I think I might have put too much sweetener in it so-”

“It’s perfect,” Y/N sighs, opening her eyes once more. 

He gives a proud smile and pats his head. “Good, I’m glad. I’ll leave you alone now, let you decompress for a while.”

“Thank you for everything… for being so patient and kind. I appreciate it,” Y/N says, gazing out the window. 

“A little kindness never anybody. I just hope I made your day somewhat better.”

“You definitely did.”

 And with that, Jimin leaves the girl alone, moving on to his own barista duties of washing the dishes, clearing tables, and taking the orders of a few people who wanted a kick of caffeine. It was close to the evening which meant that the cafe was nearly empty, something Y/N found most agreeable as it allowed her to enjoy the soft music playing through the speakers while enjoying her recent read. For about thirty minutes or so, Y/N was enjoying her novel whilst sipping occasionally on her latte, and at that moment, she was finally at peace. Here, she was able to temporarily forget about school, work, and her general stresses in life. All that mattered was her tranquility, the porcelain cup sitting ahead of her, and the cast of characters splayed out in her book. Y/N realizes that her brow had loosened, curing her blistering headache ever since she stepped foot into the shop, especially since she talked to Jimin. 

Leaving all her worries aside, Y/N gazes out the window and ponders. Everything is so beautiful right now, what with the snow gently falling and families walking hand in hand, she thought. It’s a shame I can’t fully enjoy life with all my stress plaguing my thoughts. I should just enjoy it while it lasts. 

It didn’t last long, that is, only because Jimin came over with a fresh piece of what appeared to be strawberry shortcake. He places the plate in front of Y/N and leaves with a simple, “Bon appetit.”

“Hey wait! I didn’t order this.” she rushes to her feet to return the cake. 

Jimin comes back, pushing Y/N by her shoulders so she’d sit back down. “I know you didn’t. But you can’t drink something on an empty stomach,” he urges, nudging the cake towards her and turning back around once again. 

With her mouth shaped into an O’, she reaches for her wallet to pay for the dessert but before she can do so, Jimin, with his back towards Y/N, protests, “don’t even think of paying for the cake. It’s on the house.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly eat this without paying. Besides, won’t you get in trouble?” 

“You can, and you will,” he affirms, now facing Y/N, slinging the rag over his shoulder, adding with, “plus, what’s the worst my mom can do? Not feed me Jjajangmyeon for two weeks? I can survive.”

Warily, Y/N begins to stab the fork into the cake before venturing with a meek, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” he declares, giving her a warm smile that makes her want to eat the cake all the more, wanting to see his smile once more. “Also, I uhhhh,” Jimin stammers, “I wanted to give it to you cuz uhhh...it m-matches your sweater vest,” he declares, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment from his statement. 

Confused, Y/N looks down at herself. As per usual, she was in a rush to attend her first lecture of the day and just threw on the first thing her eyes met, which was a pink, strawberry printed sweater vest over a white button-up. Wait. He just gave me a slice of cake because it matched my vest. How much cuter can this guy get? With a blush creeping up her face, she shoved a piece of the cake in her mouth, and in an instant, her tense shoulders dropped, like a weight lifted off of them. The sweetness and acidity of the strawberries coated her tongue but was soon covered by the velvety taste of the buttercream frosting. 

“Wow Jimin, this is...absolutely delicious.” 

He hums, “I’m glad you think so. I’ll be sure to tell my mom.” 

“Yeah, you def- wait. Your mom?” Y/N interjects, mouth full of cake.

Jimin takes a napkin from the dispenser and wipes the frosting from the corner of her mouth and asks, “Did you really think I was the one who made the cake? You overestimate me, my dear friend,” he leans in closer to Y/N, lips frighteningly close to her ear and whispers, “I appreciate the sentiment though.” He pulls back and winks at her, hair falling over his eyes. “I just thought it befitting to feed you something as sweet as yourself.” 

Shocked at his boldness, Y/N goes back to eating her cake, not quite sure how to respond to him, especially since she was turning redder and redder by the second and it feels like her tongue had been swallowed. 

“Cute,” Jimin chuckles, going back to washing the dishes. 

By the time Y/N finished eating, the sun had set and it was closing time, leaving only Jimin and Y/N to be the only two in the shop. She looked at the time and her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “Oh god, I’ve got to get going. I’ve got to wake up early tomorrow.” 

Y/N scrambles to gather her items in her bag, her book, her phone, her wallet and is about to zoom out the door before she hears Jimin calling her name. 

“Y/N hold up! You forgot something.” Bewildered, lets go of her hold on the door handle, and looks to the boy. 

“Come here,” he beckons for Y/N to come closer. 

Walking closer to the counter, Y/N has her hand reached out for him to place whatever it is she left behind. Jimin, placing something unbelievably small in her palm, smiles bright, cheeks overcoming his eyes. She looks down and sees a single Hershey’s chocolate kiss. Y/N looks back to Jimin for an explanation and what he says next throws her off completely.

“Hershey factories make millions of kisses a day, but I’m asking for only one...perhaps after our first date?” 

Y/N is silent for a few beats as she registers his cheesy pickup line. Jimin, panicking, quickly regrets his words and goes to take back the kiss but is stopped when Y/N doubles over, shoulders shaking. 

Concerned, the barista walks around the counter and puts his arms around Y/N, scared that he triggered what he thought were waterworks. “Y/N...I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you!” But then he hears laughter, belly-aching laughter, one that Jimin wants to hear all the time. 

For a good minute, Y/N is hunched over, cackling while Jimin lets out small giggles but then ceases her laughter, wiping her tears away, and looks towards Jimin. “Wow, thank you for making me laugh like that. I haven’t done that for so long.”

Jimin frowns, “I’m happy I made you laugh but are you laughing at me or with me?”

“With you, I’d never laugh at you, especially since you made me feel so much better today,” Y/N replies. 

“Oh thank God,” he lets out a deep sigh of relief. “So about that date...would you like to go out with me? I know it’s weird since we just met today but I heard a lot about you from Hwa Young and-and I always wanted to see what you were like. Our paths crossed and I didn’t want to give this moment up.”

Y/N considered how much of an impact he had on her in just one day and thought what it would be like being with him every day. She knew she’d feel tremendously better. As of now, she’s felt more comfortable than she had for a long while. Being around him reminded her of all the beautiful things she’s failed to notice and allowed her to feel like herself once more. If being around him felt like this, she never wanted it to end. His presence comforted Y/N and made her feel right at home. She definitely wasn’t going to turn him down. 

“I’d love nothing more than to go out with you. But you better not break that promise of a kiss.”

Brushing a small strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear, he replies with, “Oh, I promise.”

[friendlylocalwhumper]

retirement

“Adrian, how smart phones were developed. Your expert is Mrs. Langley.”

The class murmurs with jealousy as Adrian is assigned a teacher - not only is she fun and friendly, but she works in this same building. An easy assignment. Someone mutters about how he got an easy one because he’s the teacher’s nephew.

“Kristen, the politics of the nineties. You have a retired senator to interview for this one, isn’t that fun?”

The goody-two-shoes students make impressed, interested sounds, while the rest shift in their seats waiting to hear who they’ll be assigned.

“Okay, this next one will be a group of three, because the source always talks too much for one student to catch all the details.” She opens her mouth to continue, but already, kids are groaning.

“Not the one from-”

“Not the old-”

“Come on, Mrs.-”

She speaks over them, used to the complaints by now. “Sheela, Maxim, and Zach, you three have Quinn Mae. You’ll be interviewing them about-”

“The history of the magic community,” Recite the three named students in unison, one rolling their eyes, one slouching in their seat, and one clenching their jaw.

“Yes. That one’s just down the street, so I don’t want any excuses. A late assignment isn’t acceptable at this level. I want an essay from each of you. Mx. Mae will give you plenty to work with, so no copying.”

~

The retirement home is nice enough, all neat and studded with simple, pleasantly neutral furniture. The generic art on the walls gives an aura of charming, if manufactured peace. The deep ticking of a grandfather clock warms the lobby. A smiling lady at the front desk offers caramel candies to all who drag their feet past her.

None of it quite makes up for the walkers left lying around, or the smell of old people, or the tired sass of the caretakers walking around briskly. To a couple of teenagers, it’s the worst place in the world to be. Boring beyond measure, and the old ladies will grab you by the wrist to say something about how your hair looks, or what you’re wearing, or whether they think you’re their grandkid.

The receptionist informs the kids that the senior citizen they’re looking for is on this floor, with all the residents who don’t need supervision. “Quinn Mae is a feisty one,” She says with a fond smile. “They’re all mild-mannered, know all the right things to say, until suddenly your name tag is missing, and they’ll only give it back if you catch them with it. Smug little smile. Watch your wallets and phones, kids.”

Maxim is the only one who doesn’t smile politely at the advice and very adult-like oversharing. The three proceed into the lobby, briefly arguing about which hallway the receptionist said to go down.

“You three lost?” Says some old bag of bones on the lobby couch, wrinkly fingers wrapped around the edges of a newspaper. Thin wire-framed glasses sit low on a flat nose, hanging on for dear life. Dull white hair lies in limp curls on slender shoulders, big faded freckles spread across cheeks that have seen more sun than any other retiree that ambles past.

“No, sir,” Sheela says with bare-minimum politeness.

“Not sir,” Sasses the old person gently, folding their newspaper.

“Uh. Sorry, ma’am.”

“Not that either. Were you asking about Quinn Mae at the front desk?”

“Yeah. You know ‘em? What room’re they in?” Asks Maxim, stepping forward. His bushy eyebrows are cocked with frustration and slight amusement, as if anything the retiree says will be made fun of later.

The senior citizen gives a bare smile, a hint of a quirk to thin lips. “Room one-seven-three, young man.”

The students talk amongst themselves, eager to agree that that was the number the receptionist gave them and get away from this old person who will surely trap them in boring conversation if they linger. Off they go, down a hallway they were gravitating toward anyway, searching for room 173.

Five minutes later, they’re back, looking disgruntled. ��Unless Quinn Mae’s disguised as an old lesbian couple, wrong room, old guy,” Grumbles bushy-brows.

“Not a guy,” Reminds the lobby couch-warmer. “Forgive me, you said Quinn Mae? That’ll be room one-twenty-six.”

Off they go again, the grumpy boy nudging at the girl who glances back at the retiree paging through a newspaper and pointedly not watching them go down a different hallway this time.

It’s ten minutes later, this time, that the kids return. One of the boys goes over to the front desk while Maxim and Sheela return to the old person on the couch.

“Okay. Try again, grandpa. Not one-seventy-three, not one-twenty-six. Quinn Mae. Where is Quinn Mae? We’re here from the high school, doing a school project. Old geezer probably talked about us coming, all excited, since nothing else happens here. Where’s Quinn Mae?”

Sheela’s looking at this person with white curls, wise brown eyes, and a slowly spreading, sly smile. She doesn’t join in as Maxim grills them for answers. The retiree looks over the disgruntled boy, then finally meets the girl’s eyes.

“You’re Mae, aren’t you?” She accuses.

Finally, that newspaper is folded and lowered. Quinn nods.

Just in time for them all to hear from across the lobby as the receptionist sighs and nods to the couch, informing Zach, “That’s Quinn Mae right there. They gave you the runaround, didn’t they?”

Maxim looks flustered, but Sheela speaks first. “Mr. Mae-”

“Mx. Mae, if you please.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Mx. Mae, we’re supposed to ask you about the history of the magic community.”

Quinn gives a soft, wobbly hum. They flip over the paper in their hands and run an age-softened finger over a line of text. “Young Man Found Beaten, Rescued. That’s what this article is titled. That sound odd to you?”

Sheela shakes her head. Maxim frowns.

“The article goes on to mention that the young man has magic. Mentioned, not announced as the clear reason he deserved to be beaten. When I was forty, this headline would’ve been, Warlock Found Alive, Scaring Citizens.” Approaching to listen, the other boy, Zach, winces at the word warlock. That word hasn’t been okay to use for years. “When I was your age, there wouldn’t have been a story printed in the paper about it at all.”

“Yeah. They were killed in the streets back then. No statistics on it ‘cause no one cared. We know all this,” Complains Maxim. “Times changed.”

Brown eyes scan across the teens before settling on the one who spoke. “You remind me of someone I used to know,” Replies Mae, looking wistful for a moment before they add, “Someone unintelligent. Times haven’t changed much if a person with magic is still beaten for being warlock scum, have they?”

“Language, Quinn,” Reminds one of the caregivers, pushing a cart of sheets and towels over to the service elevator.

“Oh, heavens, did I do it again? I’m sorry, Julie!” They offer her a kind, harmless smile until she’s out of sight. The teenagers catch a glimpse of the retiree rolling their eyes. “The younger ones don’t understand. I’ll forgive them for it, it’s what I fought for. The luxury to be ignorant without it costing lives.”

None of this aged-revolutionary talk impresses the kids. One of them even looked incensed by it. Quinn’s eyes, having wandered off to ponder their memories, lock onto the one who stands out from the group.

“What’s your name?”

“Maxim,” Says the one who reminds them of Major. They miss him, the old idiot. He used to cause so much trouble.

“Maxim. Do you have something you’d like to say?”

Glancing at his classmates, the young man shrugs one shoulder. “Nah. Just keep talking, we’ll get something we can use.”

“I’d love to help you all with your assignment. Your teacher informed me that you’ll fail this class if you don’t hand in an acceptable essay, each of you.” The newspaper has one corner folded back neatly that they play with slowly as they watch the three kids before them. “But I know someone who hates magic when I see them. If you want me to help someone like that to pass an advanced class, you’ll all have to do better than this. I don’t want to teach you about the history I lived through. I want each of you to study it on your own, come present what you learned to me, and show me that you have the base understanding to even believe what I’ll tell you.”

Maxim turns to leave, uninterested, ready to pay someone to write his essay for him. Zach looks anxious, mouth opening to make excuses and beg for Quinn to just tell them what they need to know to get their project done.

Sheela watches Quinn. Just stands there and waits, judging whether they’re being honest. Quinn leans back in the lobby’s couch and beams.

“You. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. The others, they have to hear it from you. I want you to retell my stories before you write anything down on paper.”

“I’d type it on my phone, no one uses paper for notes anymore,” She argues mildly.

“Fine. You’ll relay it by word of mouth, then take the notes on your phone. Do we have a deal, Miss…”

“Sheela. Yeah, that’s - we can do that. Right?”

Maxim sighs and turns back around, glaring but grumbling his agreement. Zach nods to show he accepts the terms as well.

“Wonderful,” Says Quinn, standing with all the aches of a senior citizen, but the glowing energy of someone about to do their favorite thing. “Let’s go out for a walk. We’ll start with the war and go from there.”

[alwaysachorusgirl]

Almost Perfect

Pairing: Frederick Chilton x Female Reader

Word Count:    2,595

Square: Date Gone Wrong

TW: none, just a lot of sweet, romantic fluff (because I like my Frederick soft, sweet, and romantic) 

Tagging: @thatesqcrush, because it’s her Bingo

Notes: So, this ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would. And it looks like some of my paragraph formatting got screwed up when I copy/pasted from MS Word. Sorry about that!

Frederick Chilton took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and mustered up every ounce of courage that he had. He wasn’t expecting you to say yes to having dinner with him. In fact, if he was being honest with himself, he was fully prepared for rejection. He could only hope that you wouldn’t laugh in his face. He took one more breath and knocked on your office door.

           “Come in!” You looked up and smiled when you saw your boss, colleague, and friend enter your office at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

           “Good Afternoon, Y/N, I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

           “Of course not, Frederick! Please, come in! I always have time for you.”

           Your smile was warm and kind and made Frederick’s heart skip a beat. He tightened his grip on his cane, hoping it would be enough to hide the slight shaking in his hand. The other hand was holding a patient file, his excuse for coming to see you.  His eyes followed you as you stood and walked around your desk to stand in front of him. He had fallen hopelessly in love in with you months prior, after the “incident” with Abel Gideon. You had been there at his bedside when he’d woken in the hospital after surgery. Somehow you managed to come visit him every day, all while getting your own work done, helping to run the BSHCI, and picking up his slack. After he’d been released from the hospital you had organized and scheduled his home care nurse and physical therapist. You had come to see him after you got off work, bringing groceries, cooking meals, and even helping with his laundry. You never asked for anything in return, always claiming that seeing him getting better and stronger was all you needed. He still didn’t completely understand it all, why a beautiful goddess, such as you, would even bother with a miserable wretch like him. But you had, now poor Frederick was too far gone to turn back.

           “I, uh, came to return this patient file,” he said, holding out the folder to you.

           “Thank you,” you said, taking it from him. “I hope everything was in order?”

           “Oh, yes! Your notes are impeccable, as always,” he replied. “You always notice the smallest details that everyone else misses. It makes my job easier in regard to prioritizing cases.”

           “Thank you, Frederick, that’s very kind of you to say,” you blushed at his praise, and nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. An awkward moment of silence passed before Frederick spoke up.

           “Actually Y/N, there’s something else I’d like to speak to you about, if that’s alright?”

           “Of course, it’s alright, Frederick, why don’t we sit down?” You looped your arm through his and led him to the couch. He waited for you to sit down and make yourself comfortable before he occupied the spot next to you. “Now, what did you need to speak to me about?”

           “Ah, yes, well…” he paused, completely at a loss for words, and horribly second-guessing himself. His eyes met yours. You were giving him the sweetest and most gentle look. You truly were the most rapturous beauty he had ever seen. He was completely undeserving of you, and he was so certain that there was no way you would ever agree to going out with him.

           “Frederick? Are you alright?” Your eyes were now full of concern. You took his hand and held it between both of yours. You could see that he was anxious and nervous about something.  You slid closer to him, knowing that your presence seemed to have a way of calming him. “It’s okay, Frederick, I’m right here. You can tell me anything.”

           “I truly adore your company,” he finally stammered out.

           “And I adore yours as well,” you replied. He breathed a sigh of relief at that.

           “Are you, by any chance, busy tomorrow night?”

           “No, Frederick, I’m completely free. Did you have something in mind?” You felt the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and your hopes rising. Was he about to finally ask you out?

           “Would you be interested in having dinner with me? I mean, I understand if you’re not—” He was shocked into silence by feeling of your soft lips kissing his cheek. Then he saw the radiant smile on your face.

           “I would love to have dinner with you, Frederick, nothing would make me happier.”

**************

           The following evening Frederick arrived promptly at your apartment at 7pm sharp. You buzzed him in and checked your make-up one final time. You didn’t know what restaurant you were going to, you had asked him to “surprise you”, and the only hint that he had given you was that it was a newer, upscale place. You heard his knock on your door, and looked down at your dress, hoping it would pass muster. You checked the peephole to verify that it was him and unlocked and opened the door.

           You couldn’t help but smile when you saw him standing there in the hallway. His suit was different than the one he’d been wearing at work that day but was still clearly designer and perfectly tailored. His cane was in one hand, a bouquet of red roses in the other. His own jaw dropped when he saw you. He couldn’t help but wonder as to how he’d gotten so lucky.

           “You look beautiful, my dear,” he breathed. He held out the roses. “These are for you.”

           “Thank you, Frederick,” you said, kissing him on the cheek, “They’re beautiful, and you look incredibly handsome as always. Come in, please; do I have time to put these in water?”

           “Plenty of time, “Frederick replied, stepping inside, “the reservation is for 7:30 and the restaurant is only a few blocks away.”

He glanced around your apartment while you went into the kitchen to find a vase. It was small, but cozy and warm, and decorated to suit your tastes. He wandered over to the shelves where you kept your books. He wasn’t at all surprised to see all of Jane Austen’s works, along with collections of literary essays and criticism of her work. He pulled your well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice off the shelf. You had started reading it to him while he was in the hospital, but he had been released before you could finish it, and the place where you had left off was still marked.

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going tonight?” You called from the kitchen.

“How do you feel about La Tempio’s?” He answered, putting the book back on the shelf. You came out of the kitchen with roses now in a vase, and your eyes wide.

“That new fancy vegetarian place that all the restaurant critics are raving about?”

“The very same.” He checked his watch. “And I think we should get going.”

You put the flowers down on the kitchen table, and grabbed a light shawl and your purse, double checking to make sure that you had your keys, phone, and wallet. You heard a fire truck go by outside, sirens blasting, but thought nothing of it. You took Frederick’s arm and let him lead you outside to his car. You were so busy looking at him that you didn’t even register the second fire truck screeching by your apartment building, or the dark gray storm clouds gathering overhead.

*****************

             You and Frederick saw the commotion as you turned onto the street where the restaurant was. There were two firetrucks outside one of the local businesses. Firemen in full gear were scurrying around. Well dressed people were the standing across the street looking concerned. Frederick pulled his car into the first open spot he saw and turned off the engine. You both and walked a bit closer to investigate. You saw a young woman in black dress pants, a white button-down shirt, and a matching maroon vest and necktie and called out to her.

           “Excuse me? Miss? Do you know what’s going on?”

           “Kitchen fire at La Tempio’s,” she answered, walking over to you. “One second I was serving a table, and the next thing I know, there was smoke coming out of the kitchen, and the Maître D was asking everyone to evacuate quickly and calmly. If you had a reservation, you might want to reschedule. I don’t think the firemen are going to be done anytime soon.”

           A loud clap of thunder rumbled overhead, and you all looked up at the darkening sky.

           “That doesn’t sound good, “the young woman said. “You might want to head back to your car before- “She was cut off by the deluge of rain that suddenly fell down from above. You quickly thanked her and took Frederick’s arm. You didn’t want him slipping and falling, and you were both already soaked to the bone.

           You tried to get back to the car as quickly as possible, but that was when one of your heels slipped and snapped off. You felt your ankle twist at an odd angle as you lost your balance and fell forward. Frederick’s arms reached out and caught you before you hit the pavement, but you felt a sharp pain shoot through your ankle.

           “Shit!” You cursed. “I think I just twisted my ankle!”

           “It’s alright, Y/N, just lean on me, I’ve got you. We’re almost to the car,” Frederick desperately tried to comfort you. You reached down and took off the broken shoe, limping while Frederick managed to get you both back the car. Once you were inside you both stopped to take a breath and figure out your next move.

           “My dear, I’m so sorry. How’s your ankle? Would you like me to take you to the nearest emergency room or urgent care? Just go back to your place?”

           “I think I’d much rather go back to your place, if that’s alright,” you said, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. You weren’t ready to give up just yet. You knew how nerve-racking it had been for him to ask you out. He needed this. You needed this, and you knew there had to be a way to salvage the evening. “You need some dry clothes and I’m sure you have something that will fit me. We can order take out and stay in, maybe watch a movie? Your couch is extremely comfortable…”

           Frederick kissed your hand and nodded. He couldn’t believe how calm and understanding you were being about all this. He started the engine, carefully pulled out of the parking spot, and started the drive back to his place.

**********************

           If anyone had told you that you would wind up on injured on Frederick’s couch tonight, you would have told them they were crazy, but here you were: lounging as comfortably, wearing a pair of his soft pajama pants and one of his button down shirts, your injured ankle in his lap while he tended to it. He finished wrapping and securing the ace bandage, then picked up the waiting towel and ice bag from the coffee table. He draped the towel over your ankle and carefully placed the ice bag on top of it.

           “There, “he said, appearing to be quite satisfied with his work. “How does that feel? Has the pain reliever kicked in yet?”

           “I think it’s getting there, and you’ve done a wonderful job, Frederick, thank you.”

           “It was the least I could, especially given how horribly things have gone tonight.”

           “Frederick, please, none of this is your fault! There’s no way either one of us could have predicted what happened.”

           “All the same, Y/N- “he was cut off by the sound of the doorbell. “Ah! That would be dinner!”  He carefully moved your ankle off his lap and onto a pillow. The couch was full of extra pillows and blankets that he had retrieved while you had been freshening up and changing clothes in the downstairs bathroom earlier. You stretched out while he went to the door. He came back a few minutes later with a large paper bag in his hands. He placed it on the coffee table, then went to the kitchen and came back with silverware, napkins, a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a corkscrew. He had ordered take out from your favorite Italian place, and you watched hungrily as he pulled various containers out of the bag.

           “Baked Penne with meat sauce, and extra mozzarella,” he announced, handing you a container and a fork.

           “Thank you, Frederick, I love how you always remember my favorite take out orders.” You took the food and dug in. It was perfect, just the way you liked it.

           Frederick sat and stared at you for a moment, completely mesmerized. After the way the night had gone, he had fully expected you to reject him, but you were still here, with your kind eyes and sweet smile. He also got a secret thrill from the sight of you wearing his clothes. He thought you looked better in them than he did, but he would never say that aloud. Instead, he reached for the television remote, turned on the TV, and handed the remote to you.

           “Put on whatever you like,” he said.

           You took the remote and started searching through Netflix until you found exactly what you wanted. You looked at Frederick hopefully.

           You okay with The Princess Bride? It’s my favorite.”

           “Whatever makes you happy, Y/N,” he replied, opening the wine and filling the two glasses.

           You both sat in comfortable silence, eating, drinking and watching the movie, pausing it briefly so that Frederick could clean up and put your leftovers in the fridge.

“Would you like another glass of wine?” he asked when he returned. He saw that you had rearranged yourself so that your ankle and the pillow under it were resting on the coffee table.

           “No thank you, but do you know what I would like?” You patted the space next to you, and he sat down, a bit confused by the question. You lifted his arm and put it around your shoulders. You restarted the movie and put the remote to side before wrapping your arms around his sturdy torso and snuggling against him. You placed your head on his chest. Frederick had gotten the message by this point and wrapped his other arm around you. You smiled and snuggled as close as you could. “There, that’s much better.”

           Frederick gently kissed your forehead.

           “I’m sorry again for everything that’s happened, “he said softly. “I just wanted everything to be perfect.”

           You looked up at him and it broke your heart to see such sadness in his eyes. You reached up and caressed his cheek with your fingers.

           “Frederick, stop apologizing. This is perfect.”

           You pulled his lips down to meet yours, soft and tentative. Frederick went stiff for a moment from shock, but recovered, pulling you close, his lips melting into yours. He had dreamed of this, but never thought it would happen.  He could have sworn your lips had been made for his, the way they fit so perfectly. You pulled away to catch your breath and smiled.

           “You know, I usually don’t kiss on the first date, but I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

           “So have I, Y/N, for months now, in fact. So, does this mean you’ll give me another chance at taking you out to dinner?”

           You kissed him again and snuggled into his chest.

           “Yes, Frederick, I’m yours.”

[evera6234]

Gotham’s Salty WIP: Chapter III

CHAPTER I  CHAPTER II

RATING: T (Teen for cursing and stuff, this may change)

SUMMARY: 

Basically, the typical Daminette with a bit of lime and spice. Borderline crack fic bc i cant without humor. 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng goes to Gotham whilst carrying three years worth of emotional baggage, what she does with it, we don't know. Does she lug it around? Probably. Does she kick it off a skyscraper? Not probable, but maybe. Does she use it to drop kick an unsuspecting liar. Most definitely.                ~~~> EDITED BY OLLIETHETURTLE ON AO3

Transferred from AO3. 

   After a couple minutes of some surface level research Tim pulled out his phone.

Replacement: The boy is Adrien Agreste

Replacement: His dad is Gabrielle Agreste

Replacement: *Gabrielle

Replacement: Fuck autocorrect

Replacement: *Gabrielle

Replacement: *Gabrielle 

Replacement: Ok I give up, the dude version of Gabriel

Replacement: *Gabriel

Replacement: *Gabriel

Replacement: What have I ever done to you autocorrect??

Gunz Blazin’: you a bit late there, mr tim todd

*Gunz Blazin’ renamed Replacement, Tim Todd*

Demon: Stop messaging so carelessly through this group chat you imbeciles!

Gunz Blazin’: (insert emoji spam here)

Gunz Blazin’: Hey tim, can you do some research on marinette dupain-cheng?

Gunz Blazin’: And maybe a lila who is probably in her class

Replacement: Sure, gimme a bit of time.

¬

   Regardless of how careless he seems to be, Jason is concerned. Thinking from what he could piece together, “The boy (Adrien Agreste) thinks that the girl (Marinette Dupain Cheng) is ignoring his advice and doesn’t like it. He also thinks Marinette is jealous of another person (Lila?), he thinks she is specifically jealous of how much time he and Lila spend together. But Marinette says she is not jealous.” Jason, deciding to gather more information before taking drastic measures, plans to approach Marinette calmly and act as though he had not seen what he had. 

   Whatever flames his plans held are immediately extinguished by the highschool blondie that should have been behind him, rather than in front of him bolting towards Marinette. “Marinette!” Chloe grieves as she wraps the small bluenette in her arms. “It’s okay, we’ll get them all. I won’t let them get away with this. You will never have to fight alone. Ever.”

   “Thank you,” is the single phrase Marinette has the fight to utter before she closes her eyes and falls into a deep slumber. 

   A few minutes after Marinette falls asleep Chloe reaches into Marinette’s pocket to stop the recording on her phone. Then she looks up at Jason, “You better find Marinette a place to sleep before I light your ass.”

   Jason reluctantly sighs in defeat. “Fine.” He bends over and picks Marinette up before turning around and walking to Bruce Wayne’s currently empty office.

¬

   Our dear Brucie had been in quite the jam for the last couple weeks. Today, finally he returns home to Gotham after his final business trip, for what he hopes to be a couple months. He walks through the front doors of Wayne Enterprises and sees the french class (who won the chance to come to Gotham because of one of their student’s spectacular essay) prepare to head back to their hotel. Aside from one student on her phone, dialing like a madman, everything seems completely fine.

   Bruce walks past them and to his office, outside his window he could see it was already pitch black, aside from christmas lights. Bruce is content, he is free, at peace. Until he got closer to his office and heard ringing. “There shouldn’t be anyone calling me now, and if they would they would be calling my personal phone…” Bruce begins to think before it struck him. “BOMB!”

   Bruce runs straight into his office, which in hindsight would be an extremely bad idea (listen kids, never run into a bomb infested area. plz, i don't want my readers to go kaboom) looking to defuse a bomb. But when he looked around all he found was a girl sleeping and her ringing phone. He waddled closer to the girl and poked her shoulder, kinda freaking out. “Oh fuck. She needs to wake up. Selina’s gonna castrate, then kill me. I can’t have any rumours going around right now. I’m finally free.” 

   Before he knew what was happening… WHAM!

¬

   Chloe is frenzied in fear. “Where the fuck in Marinette? Where the fuck is the tour guide?” Chloe scurries to our dear friend, front desk Andrew and asks. 

   “Yea. He’s gone.. Probably to pick up his younger brother from school.” Andrew replies. 

   “If you find Marinette, please call this number and let me know,” frantically, Chloe scribbles down her own number and hands it to Andrew who carelessly pockets it.

   “Sure.”

   Chloe is aflame. In the crime capital of the world, where is her best friend? Is she in danger? Where is Marinette? Chloe keeps calling her partner as the class boards the bus. As she sits alone in the back of the bus Chloe quietly prays “Please be safe,” she prays quietly.

   “Don’t worry, she’s the ladybug. Not much can hurt her. She will be fine. Before the tour guide carried Ms. Guardian away, Tikki and Kaalki hid in her clothes” Pollen comforts from inside Chloe’s handbag.

   Chloe visibly relaxes, just a bit. 

¬

   Marinette just woke up has no idea where the fuck she is, but there is a dude poking her shoulder and she does not like that. At all. WHAM! 

   Marinette now standing up, looks down at a grown-ass man. Recognizing him she thinks, “I just assaulted Bruce Wayne!”, it did not sink in. She stared at him for a couple seconds. “FUCK! I just assaulted Bruce Wayne!!!!!!!” (Kinda sorta prompted by RoselynFey on AO3)

   As Marinette begins to uncontrollably apologize, Bruce interrupts her, “Daughter. You are my daughter.”

   This sentence now leads to Marinette sputtering like a madman. (Bruce please stop adopting random children it ISN’T HEALTHY!)

¬

TAG LIST: @jeminiikrystal @demonicbusiness @i-am-ironic @woe-is-me0 @miracleofadisaster @clumsy-owl-4178 @onmywaytoloveyou @nathleigh @jeminiikrystal @blueslushgueen @intelligent-raccoon @aestheticpoetic @dood-space

[dracosearlgreytea]

indelicate marks (16)

indelicate marks: chapter sixteen - the admission

A/N: okay, i know it has been months, but i am back with another chapter! this fic has got a little attention over the weeks and honestly, all i can say is THANK YOU SO MUCH. i love to see people enjoying my work more than anything in the world, and bless you all and your patience for waiting for the next part. i am hoping to post a new chapter within the week! please feel free to drop by my inbox with any questions about the fic! i love you all very much - ivy <3 

warnings: language, very mild descriptions of scars, nsfw implications, punching, a little spicy drama

lovely tags: @h-annahayy @okaydraco @fanficflaneuse @thatoneasrastan @biinspiration @honeymelon22 @bitch-im-a-fangirl @erinisbadger @strawberriesonsummer @accio-rogers @candune @contentobsessor @darinaioana @bbeauttyybbx @letssingintherain

indelicate marks index 

And so the weeks began to slide by more easily. Ignoring the ominous words Draco had offered you that night was easier than trying to decipher them. That, you had more or less figured out in the first week of trying. In fact, ignoring most things that festered away and gave you that constant sick feeling was easier than having to acknowledge them at all. Not bringing them up to the boy you continued to meet more and more also appeared to be easier, and for a while, it stayed exactly that way. Until, that was, he went missing again. You'd agreed to meet at the classroom during your joint free period of the day. With Draco's 'task' growing only further demanding, nightly meetings were much more rare. Instead, you stole your moments with him throughout the day - although, you avoided broom cupboards. This time, his disappearance was much more concerning. Whilst doubt lingered from the last time Draco managed to vanish, you were quite sure that things between you were okay. You hadn't argued. You hadn't even pushed for more information on his involvement with the Deatheaters. By lunch, you knew something was wrong. Shaky, you sat at the end of the Slytherin table. It was summer, and the weather was nice, so most students had opted to go sit outside or take a trip to Hogsmeade, leaving the hall almost empty. What bothered you, however, was that Pansy Parkinson and the rest of Draco's 'gang', were sitting unnaturally quiet a few benches away. Parkinson did look particularly disgruntled, hair a mess and skin a shade paler than usual. You waited for as long as you could stand it, hands twitching as you stared at your plate, food untouched. The thoughts inside your head were loud, and sickening. If something had happened to Draco - did someone find out about his mark? Did Lestrange find him in my thoughts back in Easter? Fuck, Draco, where are you - Parkinson stood, as did the rest of the Slytherin group. Without a second of reluctance, you shot out of your seat. Anxiety clawed at your throat, but you bit it back, calling her name before you could change your mind. "Parkinson!" She paused. Pansy didn't even glance at you the first time, and for a second you thought she was going to ignore you. But, then, she turned, eyes flashing with a concoction of hostility and surprise as they met you. "Uh - Y/L/N?" Her eyebrow arched, scanning you with her renowned glare. Self-conscious washed over you as she did so, but you kept your features steely. "Can I help you?" "I - yeah." You stumbled, inwardly cursing. The group that usually gravitated around her and Draco had paused, putting you on the receiving end of several dangerous stares. Pansy was silent, only watching you with her perpetual, irritated look. "Just wanted to know where Malfoy is - that's all." "Draco?" You noticed the way she froze for a second, before you registered his name on her lips. Quick, you nodded, glancing back at the group, who seemed to be inching back towards you. Heart rate frenzied, you eyed Pansy with what you could only label as a pleading expression. Her eyes narrowed, suspicious. "What the hell do you want with Draco?" Oh, shit. "I gave him my Potions essay for him to copy off." You lied, hoping it came smoother than it sounded. Pansy's face stayed eerily set, almost reminiscent to the way Draco appeared most the time. "I need it back." Pansy was silent, again. "Pansy!" Blaise Zabini yelled from the doorway, shooting you a look as you stared at them. "Hurry up." Pansy didn't even acknowledge him, still scrutinising you. Then, she took a small, but intimidating step forward, setting you with a hard, guarded look. "You're a good liar." She muttered. "But you're behind on school gossip." You stayed silent. You didn't trust yourself not to have a complete breakdown there and then if you opened your mouth. Finally throwing a glance over her shoulder, she returned to look at you in a swift motion. "Potter cornered him in the bathrooms. He's in the hospital wing." No. Teeth grinding together, you stared at her, sharing a look between you. It was an odd feeling, hot, in your chest. The terror of not knowing exactly what had happened to Draco, the rage at Potter, and - and the unusual relief in the understanding of Pansy's eyes. Perhaps it was a skill she had, appearing like she knew everything, every little piece about you. Yet, the glint of recognition in her gaze told you otherwise. Before you could speak, she had turned and strode back towards her group, leaving you alone by the Slytherin table. It took you a second before the realisation of Draco's injury set in. Then, you were launching yourself down the corridors, straight to the hospital wing. "Miss Y/L/N?" Madame Pomfrey called as you rushed in, setting your rather terrified eyes on the professor. You knew her well, by now, after so many visits - you had no reason to shy from her temper. "Draco Malfoy." You said, without a second of hesitance. A bed at the far corner of the hospital wing was cornered off - whatever had happened in the bathrooms clearly wasn't a secret amongst students. How the hell did I miss this? "No visitors." She spoke with a firm tone, setting her eyes on you as you had to take in a breath. "You know I wouldn't come here for just anyone," You murmured, drained. The emotion, and worrying must have shown on your expression, resonating in the way her eyes softened in the slightest. "No visitors, Miss Y/L/N. I can't make exceptions." Stubborn as ever. "Then - I - is he okay?" "Yes." She sighed, lips dragging down in the slightest. "He'll live, dear. Now, please make yourself scarse, before Professor McGonagall thinks you're causing a scene." Madame Pomfrey began to gesture you back to the doorway you had sped through. Yet, before you could bite them back, a last, desperate attempt spilled from your mouth. "Can you at least let him know I tried?" Her lips etched further down in the tiniest. Your heart murmured in disappointment - but, as you were about to give in hope, she gave you a singular, firm nod.   "Fine. Now, out of my hospital wing, girl." The tone of her voice was enough for you to know you had pushed her to her limit. "Thank you." Your reply came as a breath you weren't quite sure was at all audible, soon to make it back out of the hospital wing. Draco was at least getting tended to - and Madame Pomfrey didn't seem too stressed. All good signs that whatever had happened wasn't too drastic, at least. Still, that persistent nausea remained, stubborn. You were definitely not in the mood for a mind numbing lesson of a History of Magic, that was for certain. The Classroom it is. At least if Draco gets out of the hospital wing I'll know if he stopped by to see me. So lost in thought on the way to the classroom, you could have almost missed it. The three famous faces of Hogwarts, huddled together, but speeding towards what you assumed would be the Gryffindor common room. If you'd have been paying more attention, maybe you would have noticed Harry Potter's laboured, terrified breathing, and Hermione's furrowed brow. But they didn't need to have been wearing Gryffindor robes for you to see red. For once, you didn't feel your usual jittering anxiety. You didn't weigh up what your actions would mean, what your reputation would do. Your strides became quicker, poised. Fists curled up, you bared your teeth and let out a yell. "Potter!" He didn't even turn to look at you. No, it was his two bodyguards that spun. Expressions tired, they looked ready to face another barrage of questions from nosy students, only to drop. Hermione's eyes lit up with panic at the sight of you, most likely looking a little deranged. Her lips shifted to say something, but your thoughts were too loud. He hurt Draco. He hurt Draco, and now I'm going to hurt him. Harry turned to face you at the last minute. Bringing back your arm, you swung your fist directly into his face. "Don't you fucking dare touch him again!" Your voice didn't even feel like your own as you glared down at Harry. He stumbled back, Ron quick to his aid and preventing his fall. "Y/N-" "No, Harry Potter, you fucking listen to me." Hissing, you pushed Hermione away from you as she attempted to pull you back, despite Harry's lack of retaliation. "You stay away from me, and you stay away from Draco." Your eyes glinted, taking in every inch of shock across his face. "Or I will do a lot worse than give you a black eye." "Y/N, go." Hermione urged, gaze pressuring and a little dangerous. It was only then that you realised there were a lot more eyes on you than you once noticed. All around the corridor - students of every year, every house. Staring. Whispering. Jaw grinding together, you threw another glare at Harry for good measure. Then, you stepped back, getting away from the corridor before anything could escalate. For once, there were no scalding, angry tears to follow your mistake. There was no pounding heartbeat, or panicked breathing. For once, as you made your way to the classroom, there was only the sting of your knuckles. And, the odd satisfaction of knowing you'd at least done something for Draco. You'd stood up for him, like he'd stood up for you - and whilst, yes, there was also the concern of him being angry at you for doing so - you knew it was all you could try and do. If Draco was going to get himself killed, you'd be there to try and prevent it to any measures necessary. You'd been sat at the window ledge for hours when Draco finally made an appearance. Dusk was setting in, casting the room that warm orange you felt so comfortable within. The moment the door clicked unlocked, your heart jumped, and before you could rush to the door he was already pushing it open, eyes locking with yours instantly. Swallowing, a second of silence settled between you. There was a million words coming to mind, yet they vanished. All you could do was take in the note of his familiar grey-blue gaze. "Evening." Finally, he spoke, twitching a corner of his lip upward as he slipped into the room and locked the door behind him. That. That was all it took. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, you complete and utter idiot-" You'd scrambled to your feet in a second, eyes darting all over his body as you marched towards him and pulled him into a less than gentle embrace. Draco let out a grunt, but then you pulled back again, setting a hand either side of his face. "What the fuck did you do? Merlin, are you alright? I've been fucking worried sick about you all day, I had to speak to Pansy bloody Parkinson just to find out where you are-" Draco's lips cut you off, his own hands coming to rest over yours. Your heart leapt as he did so, and despite his cool skin, you flushed warm. Every little bit of stress dissipated at the action, swiped away by his touch. Pulling back, he prized your hands off of him, although kept them tucked into his. His eyes glimmered with a certain tone of pride - one you hadn't seen him wear often in the last few months. "You gave Potter a black eye." Draco's face pulled into a grin as he spoke, as though he couldn't help himself. Chest fluttering, you realised - Draco was proud of you. "Well - yeah." You felt your own, faint smile play along your lips. "He put you in hospital, Draco. Fuck, are you alright?" Straight back to panicking, you searched him again, the sight of him standing so full in front of you almost thrilling after such a long day. "Can you stop fretting for one second?" He pressed. "No, I cannot! What happened?" Demanding, you set him with a firm look. "You gave Potter a black eye, that's what fucking happened!" Draco exclaimed, eyes alight and wide. "I'm aware. I did do it myself, you know." You sighed, finally accepting that you were not going to find anything out about Draco's injury anytime soon. "You're bloody brilliant." He murmured, kissing you again - this time, a lot more hastily, so much it took you by surprise. You allowed him to wrap his arms around your waist, your own hands grasping at the back of his hair as his lips played atop of yours. Only, for them to travel across your jawline, breath hitching as they did so. "I wish I was there to have seen it." Draco whispered, voice dark, tempting. "Stop sexualising my violence." You muttered, evoking a chuckle from the back of his throat. The sound so close to your ear that it made you shiver, his fingers dug into your waist a little deeper. Still, you pushed the feeling away. "Draco, please tell me what happened." Finally, Draco faltered, an echo of a sigh escaping his lips as he shifted back to take you in. "I don't think you want to know." Heart stumbling, you swallowed, eyes dropping to where your hands splayed over his shoulders. "Trust me." Your eyes flickered back to his. Gradual hesitation was breaking through his previous, much more playful gaze. "I want to know." A silence settled between you. Endless amounts of tension managed to fill the small space between your features. It was the type of tension that already made your heart clench in your chest, the type that made you not want to breath. Draco's expression had fallen, a mixture of withdrawal and unexpected dread - one he would usually try so hard to cover.  It was unnerving, seeing someone usually so hardened, so steely, dropping back into the terrified boy you only caught glimpses of before.   And, eventually, he spoke. "He knows." Your breath caught in the back of your throat. "He saw - saw the mark, when I went to visit Myrtle. Shot some spell I've never heard at me." Draco, once avoiding your glossy eyes, finally met them again. "Nearly killed me." Merlin, his tone was something you'd never even attempted to imagine, coming from Draco. Both haunted, yet accepting, as though he was comfortable with his own fear - and it terrified you, deep into your core. In any other situation, you would have noticed your own terror. The idea of Draco dying, without you having even known - it was unthinkable. He was everything you had, everything you'd ever wanted or needed after a life spent within your own head. If he died - But you didn't. No. For once, it was only anger. Draco's expression was only a spark to a fire pit built many years ago. Built the day you stepped inside Hogwarts, brimming with hopes and dreams, only to be met with rejection.   It took a moment for you to realise that Draco was still watching you, uncertain, brow furrowed in concern. For you. Not him, not the one who had almost died only a few hours ago. And so, you let out a careful breath, holding his face in your hands as though it was the most precious thing to exist. "I won't let that happen." You murmured, meeting his complex grey faze with a fierce one. Swallowing, Draco watched you a moment longer, as though trying to read the intensity of your words. "I know." His brow jolted in as he spoke, as though he were wounded to say it. There was an underlying tone to your admission, one you both appeared to ignore. But then, Draco pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, squeezing your waist tight in his grip. The movement brushed away the tension before you could even attempt to hold onto it. It left you feeling a little unhinged, blinking. "I'm alive, though." Draco reassured, catching your eye once again. "Madame Pomfrey fixed me up quite nicely." A soft chuckle left you as he spoke, breaking through the stiffness of your features. "Really?" You raised an eyebrow, teasing. "Any battle scars?" His lips twitched, gaze warm. "You're just trying to get me undressed." Shaking his head, you laughed again, watching as Draco shifted away from you to tug his shirt upward. There was a slight stutter in your chest as he did so, a sudden childish nervousness at the exposure of skin. But, as your eyes swept across the healed, rugged lines across his chest, it faded. Leaving you instead, with both a tinge of worry - and, a slight desire. Draco, however, seemed to note your expression. He didn't allow his shirt to fall back down till your eyes met again, except this time, they were a little darkened. "Like what you see?" A smug smirk plastered his features, but you only rolled your eyes. "Cocky as always, Malfoy." You teased, unable to stop yourself from smiling as he pulled you in closer again. Pressing short kisses to your jaw, he earnt a sharp intake of breath from you. "I never denied that." The mood, somehow, managed to stay warm for the rest of the evening. Settled on the window sill, soaking in Draco's presence and rare good mood - your anxieties faded. His arms were so tight around you, soft lips finding your skin, over and over. It was as though you were dreaming. The anger, however - the anger never quite left. You weren't quite sure if you wanted it to, either.

[auror-lovie]

I Loved You, Mr. Scamander: Chapter 1

━━━•✦.✧. Author’s Note.✧.✦•━

I decided to post these up again. Hopefully they show up in the tags! I can’t wait to show my work with you all!

You can find the playlist link in my bio! If you want to be added to my taglist, just send me an ask or fill out the taglist form that is also linked in my bio!

━━━━━•✦.✧. Summary .✧.✦•━

Let’s just say that first loves are something else.

━━━━━•✦.✧. Warnings .✧.✦•━

Small Angst

Ravenclaw reader ( I hope that won’t sway your opinion on the fic! )

Pssst. Victoria is my HP/FBAWTFT OC~~

Hamilton reference

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

I Loved You, Mr. Scamander; Chapter 1: Wish I Were...

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

From their first year at Hogwarts, Newt and (Y/N) were always friends. During a Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw joint class for Potions, Newt had a little trouble getting some ingredients from a shelf that was out of his reach. Until a Ravenclaw girl from his year helped. From that day on, he realized that they shared more classes than he thought. They were inseparable. Back then, she’d tease him because of his height. Now, she couldn’t joke about it. He towered over her and they were only in their third year of Hogwarts.

What she didn’t expect was to fall in love with him. Cliché, right? She loved his personality- a gentle soul whose loyalty matched no other. She loved the way he’d care for magical creatures. He didn’t trap them or used them for personal gain. No- that wasn’t Newt. He kept magical creatures to study them. So he could prove to the world that they weren’t as dangerous as the books made them.

She fell in love with his smile. A smile that always followed his laugh. The way the corners of his eyes would crinkle when he was in pure happiness. She fell in love with the color of his eyes. They were a mix of blue and green- not one or the other, but somehow merging to form into its own.

(Y/N) and Newt were walking down the halls from Professor Dumbledore’s class, heading over to the library. She hadn’t noticed the cold until a breeze passed through the empty hall. “Ah shoot. I forgot my robes in his class,” (Y/N) mumbled, rubbing her upper arms.

Her mind soon became focused on one thing, staying warm. The walk to the library was starting to feel like a long journey. ‘Hot chocolate, being home, sunshine, summer, warm hugs from Newt-’ She repeated the mantra in her head. Wait- warm hugs from Newt?

The feeling of a warm cloth placed over her shoulders broke her from her trance. (Y/N) looked at the source of her newfound warmth- Newt’s robes. She looked up at her Hufflepuff friend, “Newt! But you’ll get cold!”

Newt let out a soft chuckle. “You know, for a Ravenclaw, you’re quite forgetful.”

(Y/N) blushed, “D-Don’t you start, Newton!” She stuttered. There were only two instances where she would use his full first name. Whenever the situation was serious or to tease him. This moment was the latter of the two.

“Besides, it looks better on you than it did me.” He said, giving her a charming smile.

Oh, how she loved his smile. She felt her chest swell up with adoration. ‘Only if you knew how much I liked you…’ She thought as she hugged his Hufflepuff robes closer to her body.

~*~*~

The duo met up with another one of their friends, Victoria. She was already in their designated meeting spot. Her nose stuck in her Potions book when (Y/N) and Newt reached the library.

When they reached the table, Victoria set down her book and looked up at them. “Five minutes late, my dear birdies.”

(Y/N) sighed, “Vi, it’s only five minutes.”

Victoria leaned back on her seat, relaxing a bit. “Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable.” She said matter-a-factly.

“Sorry about that, Vi. We got caught up in Dumbledore’s class.” Newt apologised.

She hummed in response. "That’s okay, Newton. Let’s get started on these assignments so we can all leave this place.” Victoria cooed softly.

“Oh, so, Newt gets your soft mom voice and I get your lecture mom voice?” (Y/N) ranted as she sat down.

Newt chuckled at their banter before walking off to find the book he needed for his essay.

Victoria had waited for Newt to be out of earshot before she leaned forward, her chin resting on her hands. “Last time I checked, you were a Ravenclaw this morning.” She whispered.

(Y/N) looked up at Victoria in confusion as she opened Victoria’s Potions textbook. “What are you talking about?”

Victoria’s eyes landed on the Hufflepuff crest on the robe (Y/N) was wearing before looking back at her friend.

She blushed, “O-Oh! I was just cold… That’s all…”

Victoria rolled her eyes, “I was just cold! That’s all..” She mimicked teasingly. “But seriously… Are you ever going to tell him?”

(Y/N) shook her head, “No, I don’t think I will…”

Victoria gave her a look as if to say “Really?”

“I mean, I won’t tell him now. I’ll tell him when I’m ready and when we’re a bit older.” (Y/N) confessed.

Newt finally came back with a Herbology book and set it down. “Tell who what when we’re older?”

“Oh, nothing! Just talking about potential career choices. That’s all!” Victoria said, before (Y/N) could say anything.

He nodded, “Well… I guess it’s never too early to decide what you want to do.”

(Y/N) looked at Victoria, mouthing “Thank you”.

~*~*~

December passed and the next semester had started. As they left Potions, Victoria and (Y/N) were discussing the day’s lesson, but Newt’s attention was elsewhere.

His attention was on a certain Slytherin student.

“Newt? Hello, Newt? Earth to Newton?” Victoria said, trying to get the Hufflepuff’s attention.

(Y/N) looked at her other friend, following his gaze to see him staring at Leta Lestrange. He was staring at Leta, as she passed by, in the same way he stared at his creatures, with love and adoration.

“Victoria, drop it.” (Y/N) said coldly.

Victoria looked at her friend. From the moment they became close friends, (Y/N) refused to call her Victoria. So she knew something was up. “O-Okay…”

As the weeks passed by, all Newt's affections had stopped. He stopped waiting for (Y/N) after breakfast so they could walk to class together. He stopped staying late at Dumbledore's class with her. He stopped giving her his robes. After it happened the first time, she made an effort to never forget her robes again. He stopped asking her to help him with his creatures. Their close friendship, lost because he started hanging out with Leta.

“Why would he ever kiss me? I’m not even half as pretty…” (Y/N) sobbed into Victoria’s shoulder as they sat by the lake.

Victoria wrapped her arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder and sighed, “One day… Something will happen. He’ll realize his feelings, but it’ll be too late…”

“I wish I were Leta… Then maybe he’d love me…”

One day, while walking to the library, she saw it. Newt placed his robes over her shoulder. She saw the shy smile Leta gave him. She saw the smile Newt gave that followed his laugh. That’s when she realized that they were in love with each other.

She briskly made her way to the library, looking for Victoria, tears already falling down her cheeks.

When (Y/N) came to their meeting spot, Victoria stood, “Hey, what’s-”

(Y/N) ran straight into her arms, interrupting her. Victoria looked down at her. Never had she seen her best friend so heartbroken. All she could do was hug her and comfort her the best way she could.

After the small crying session, Victoria held (Y/N) by the shoulders. “Okay (Y/N), here’s what we're going to do. I’m going to let you cry about him for a week. Avoid him, punch a wall, scream in anger and pain. Do whatever it takes to get your emotions out. Then after a week, you’ll get up and stop thinking about him.”

(Y/N) sniffled, wiping some of the snot on her sleeve. “Y-You’re acting as if Newt and I broke up.”

“Well, you’re crying like it,” Victoria said, patting (Y/N)’s shoulders. “Come on, we have a whole future to worry about guys. Right now, we’re going to do whatever it takes to get us training to be Aurors after we graduate.” She said, smiling at her friend.

“Yeah, we’ll take names and kick ass.” (Y/N) joked.

Victoria winked at her, “That’s my girl. And like I always say, birds of a feather-”

“Flock together.” They said in unison.

~*~*~

And (Y/N) did that. She cried. She wrote angry letters, sad letters, love letters to Newt then ripped them to shreds. She’d punched a pillar once and broke her left hand- yikes, that was not a pretty sight. Victoria had done everything she could to make (Y/N) feel better.

After a week, Victoria came into (Y/N)’s dorm and woke her up. From then on, those two worked hard and smart. They took opportunities whenever they could.

Fifth year came along and the Headmaster had a hard time choosing between the two to be the Ravenclaw prefect of their year. (Y/N) declined the offer, letting Victoria take the prefect position. Although confused, Victoria proudly took the title and accepted the responsibilities.

Fifth year was the year Newt and (Y/N) reconciled. They apologized for leaving each other. They apologized for all the miscommunication. It didn’t take long for them to become friends again. His affections returned, but not to the extent to what it was in their third year.

He waited to walk to classes with her before parting ways. He had “Care of Magical Creatures” while she and Victoria headed off to “Defense Against the Dark Arts”. He tried his best to balance his time between Leta and (Y/N). Though in the end, he would always choose Leta.

When word got out that (Y/N) and Newt were hanging out with each other again, Victoria got concerned.

“Now, is this strictly platonic?”

“Of course it is! Newt’s just a fr-… He’s…” (Y/N) trailed off.

Victoria leaned her back against the bookshelf, crossing her arms over her chest. “You caught feelings again, didn’t you?”

(Y/N) could only nod in agreement.

It did take time for Victoria to trust him again. Who could blame her? He broke her best friend’s heart. Soon after that, she was back to being the “mom friend” of the group. (Y/N), Newt, and Leta- Victoria would do anything to protect her friends.

That was until Newt got expelled. In Sixth Year, one of Leta's experiments involving a Jarvey went too far, endangering the life of another student. Instead of seeing his best friend expelled, Newt took the blame for Leta’s actions. Victoria, (Y/N), and Leta were in the room where it happened. The Headmaster had dismissed the girls. (Y/N) and Leta left, but Victoria stayed to try and defend Newt’s innocence along with Professor Dumbledore.

As they walked farther from the Headmaster’s office, (Y/N) called out to Leta, trying to get her attention. She finally stopped Leta by gently holding onto her shoulder. “Leta,” She said in a serious tone.

Leta turned around, moving her shoulder to get (Y/N)’s hand off. “What is it now?”

“You’re going to ask that when you’re the reason Newt’s expelled? The audacity.”

“I didn’t ask him to do that!” Leta retorted.

(Y/N) scoffed, “He did it because he loved you, Leta! All you did was take and take from him and you loved it. You loved his attention and his loyalty and you just ate it up.”

“Don’t talk to me about loyalty. You and Victoria had no problem ditching him when I came around. You two quickly climbed the ranks in your house. Too bad you weren’t good enough to be prefect.”

(Y/N) stood there in silence. Leta was wrong. She could’ve been prefect. She chose not to take it. No hard feelings. (Y/N) thought that Victoria would be a better candidate. Her eyes teared up- not in sadness, but anger.

Leta saw this as an opportunity to add more fuel to the fire, “And don’t think I didn’t notice… You loved him too.”

Still she stood in silence.

"Well, someone's ought to remind you-"

"What?" (Y/N) snapped.

"You're nothing without Victoria behind you."

"How dare you-" (Y/N) started, pulling out her wand and aimed it at Leta.

“(Y/N).” Victoria’s voice called.

(Y/N) gasped.

“Mummy’s calling.” Leta teased before turning to walk away.

[ickle-ronniekins]

quick to judge

request from nonnie: Hi Erica! I love your writing sm, and was wondering if I could request a fic with either George or Fred (I’m partial to George but I love them both esp since they both live long happy lives 🙃) where reader is on a rival quidditch team (pref slytherin chaser but up to you!) and F/G have to get over their innate dislike of her because of the rivalry because she’s like the perfect girl for him? No worries if you don’t like the idea, I just wanted to ask, thank you❣️❣️

request from nonnie: if your requests are open can i request 11 & 23 from your writing prmopt list with george weasley? “knock it off, you tosspot! | “join us tonight?”

pairing: george x slytherin fem!chaser

prompt(s): “knock it off, you tosspot!” | “join us tonight?”

word count: 3.9k

A/N: i loved these requests—thank you darlings! i don’t write slytherin all that often so when i do, it’s a treat :) also just imagine sneaking around the castle with george weasley ugh i am weak for it.. hope you guys enjoy reading this story as much as i did writing it! x

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 @feffffffy | message me if you’d like to be added, loves!

“Ugh—murder me, George.”

Fred is pulling at his hair whilst Angelina dishes new information to the entirety of the Gryffindor Quidditch team during the evening feast. George peers from his disheveled looking twin to the other end of the Great Hall, where he spots you in your green robes, blowing gently on a cup of tea before immersing yourself into conversation with another Slytherin Chaser next to you. Yep—much to the Gryffindor Quidditch team’s dismay—they’d found a new Chaser.

“C’mon now, give her a chance,” Angelina says in a hushed whisper, doing her very best to keep the team civilized. “Just because we.. strongly dislike most of the Slytherins doesn’t mean we need to feel that way about her, as well. I’ve actually heard very nice things.”

“Yeah?” Fred begins sarcastically, slumping in his seat. “Like what?”

“Like she’s a fair player,” Katie Bell answers.

“And a bloody good player, at that.”

“Ugh,” Fred says rather dramatically and rolls his eyes. He turns to Harry and George and nods in the direction of the girls, who are still speaking. In a lower voice, he asks them, “Can you believe this rubbish? ‘Give her a chance’. Merlin! When have Gryffindors and Slytherins ever gotten along? Look, I’ll be civilized,” Fred says in defense when Harry raises his eyebrows at him, “but there’s no bloody way in hell I’m taking it easy on her.”

“Definitely don’t need to take it easy,” Harry teases, “but we still need to play fair.”

George is hardly paying attention to the conversation in front of him; his hands are clutched tightly around his mug. He watches as a soft grin tugs at the edges of your lips, he notices the way your eyes glisten in the evening sunset light streaming in from the windows, the way you throw your head back and laugh—a laugh he cannot hear, but realizes, suddenly, that he’s dying too. Oh, no.

“Angelina’s right,” he says, trying to sound impartial before the boys notice his lingering stare. When Fred raises his eyebrows suspiciously at his twin, George carries on, “look, ‘m just saying—isn’t that what our entire team stands for? Sportsmanship, or whatever? I know we don’t have a good relationship with the Slytherins, but I reckon being nice with her may turn that around.”

Fred is taken aback at this and asks, “Being nice? Oi—what’s gotten into you? Feeling feverish?” He places a hand on top of George’s forehead and laughs as George slaps his hand away teasingly. A smirk spreads itself across his face and he turns to Harry and says, “Merlin—prepare yourself, Harry. He’s in love.”

George feels his stomach tighten and Harry stifles a bit of confused laughter. “What? How can you tell?”

George is rigid in his seat now. Love is such an overdramatic statement, but he can barely bring himself to roll his eyes at Fred; he’s still trying to remember how to breathe properly. Fred, as if placing George on display somehow, points at him— “Flushed face, dilated pupils, red ears—cold hands,” he grabs both of George’s hands to feel his skin is nearly ice cold, something that tends to happen each and every time George gets nervous. “There are four ways to tell our dear Georgie is smitten, Harry, and I’ve just named them for you.”

Coming to his senses, George slaps his brother. “You’re off your rocker, Fred.”

Fred laughs again and says to Harry, “Off my rocker, he says. But just look at her, would you? She’s just his type. Plus—she plays Quidditch. I promise you, Harry, he’s taken with her already.”

George tells his twin, “Lay off. Just trying to be impartial.”

“Right.” Fred says, smirking a bit while shooting glances toward Harry, who’s doing his best to not choke on his tea due to laughter. “Impartial. Try not to bat your long, beautiful eyelashes at her during our match then, okay, Georgie?” Raucous laughter bounces off of the walls in the Great Hall.

Then suddenly, Angelina scoffs and turns toward the group. George feels a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Ugh—I think I just saw her laugh at something Draco Malfoy said. Maybe we don’t need to be so civilized after all.”

— -

George emerges with Fred and Harry from the changing rooms and they make their way onto the pitch for the match. He’s feeling much more nervous than ever before; he glances up into the stands and notices Ron, Hermione and Ginny, sitting and waiting patiently for the match to begin.

He suddenly feels his knees weaken when he notices you in your green robes just a few feet away.

You all mount your brooms and hover in the air; George was kind of hoping that the Slytherin team would introduce their newest Chaser to the Gryffindor team, but isn’t surprised when they don’t. He finds himself to be slightly sad at the thought, and then shakes his head to push away any feelings that will interfere with his playing. They just need to win and get this over with. Here’s hoping Harry catches the snitch before Malfoy, who’s hovering near Flint and laughing at each and every one of the Gryffindors.

Fred’s looking more on edge—like he wants nothing more than to send every single bludger right into Malfoy’s head during the entirety of the match.

“Reckon I could?” Fred asks George suddenly, hovering in the air, waiting for Madam Hooch’s whistle. “Send them Draco’s way, I mean.”

George laughs and replies, “Sorry, mate—unless you want Gryffindor to forfeit, I reckon you’d better resist the urge.”

It’s a short match, to say the least. Harry’s looking positively dreadful at the sight of Malfoy snickering on the other end of the pitch as he twirls the glistening Snitch in his hands. To Harry, Fred says, “Don’t worry about it, mate—they’ve got a good lineup this year. Better than, even. Bloody hell, I reckon we maybe should’ve taken that new Chaser a bit more seriously—”

“Don’t.” George cuts him off angrily, digging his shoes into the muddy field up to the castle. He’s feeling rather poorly after Gryffindor’s loss. Fred and Harry exchange confused looks.

Fred, wanting nothing more than to lighten the mood of the loss, asks his brother, “You alright there, Georgie? No longer in love?”

Harry laughs nervously, but it’s George’s annoyed-sounding scoff that takes Fred by surprise. George glances toward the Slytherin team, each member high-fiving one another due to their win. He feels anger bubbling up inside him and turns back toward the castle, his brows furrowed and face flushed red. He just wants to get back to the dormitory as quickly as he can. “Oh knock it off you tosspot. I was never in love—I can’t believe those slimy Slytherins won the match—erm, no worry, Harry, we’ll get them next time—” he says a bit softer when he notices Harry’s woebegone look. To Fred, he continues, “—can’t believe I ever thought that Gryffindors and Slytherins could get along.. Merlin. Next time I have such a wicked thought, Fred, do me a favor and knock me over the head with a spellbook of mine, would you?”

Fred laughs and slings an arm around his twin. “Don’t need to ask me twice.”

— -

Fred and George find themselves the last place they ever want to be—in the library, grudgingly working on an extra long Potions essay assigned to their class by Professor Snape in a moment of pure rage. Fred’s arms are sprawled out across the table and he’s laying across his blank parchment rather dramatically, groaning against the desk. George, on the other hand, is scribbling quite animatedly, wanting to get out of the library as quickly as possible. Then he spots you a few rows over, rolls his eyes, and writes even faster.

“It’s no use, mate,” Fred’s voice is tired, “I can’t do this. This schoolwork is nearly killing me. I’m going back to the Common Room; Ron said something about a game of exploding snap—you coming?”

“You go on,” George replies, not looking up from his parchment, “I want to finish this before the feast.”

Fred puts up his hands in surrender and exits the library as quickly and as swiftly as possible.

George is hoping he can finish this Potions essay within the next half an hour, or so—that way, he’ll have time to change and possibly get in on that exploding snap game before the feast in a bit. But he finds himself distracted. Not in a good way, though. He finds himself distracted by you.

Is it his imagination, or have you moved over a few seats? He shakes his head and looks back down at his parchment. No, it’s not his imagination at all—he looks up again and you’re directly across from him now, your hands spread out over your own piece of parchment and spellbooks, and you smile at him.

“Just wanted to tell you how great you were last week,” you tell him in a low voice so as not to grab Madam Pince’s attention, “really great. Probably two of the best beaters I’ve ever seen, you and your brother.”

Is this some kind of a joke? George furrows his brows and asks, a bit incredulously, “W-what?”

You laugh softly, closing your own spellbook. “Look, I know that the whole Slytherin versus Gryffindor rivalry thing has been going on since Hogwarts opened, basically,” your voice is light and airy, and George is now having conflicting feelings. Was he too quick to judge? “but I figure, that’s not how all Slytherin and Gryffindor relationships need to be. So, just wanted to say—really wicked playing; but don’t expect me to take it easy on you moving forward.” You beam at him, pack your things away and stand up to leave.

“What’re you on about?” George asks, now feeling incredibly defensive. “Is this some kind of ploy? Flatter us and make us all flustered so you can go ahead and absolutely demolish us in the next match like you have this last time? Well, it’s not going to work,” he tells you, closing his own spellbooks and placing them into his bag on the chair next to him. “I appreciate the compliment—you’re a wicked player too, but—anyone who’s friends with Malfoy isn’t someone I reckon I’ll be able to get on with.”

You’re a bit taken aback, George notices, when your face flushes red. You sit back down as he continues to pack up his things. “I’m not friends with Malfoy.”

George just scoffs.

You cross your arms defensively now and stand up with a jolt. “He might be my teammate, but I actually find him to be a right foul git.”

You push your chair in a little too loudly, and now George is feeling incredibly guilty. Maybe you were genuinely trying to be friendly. He gets up and grabs your arm before you exit the library fully. Taking a deep breath, he says, “Wait, wait—‘m sorry. Look, that was really bloody rude of me. It’s just that—”

You soften at his words; you uncross your arms, and grin softly. “I understand that friendships between our two houses can be a bit.. complicated.”

“Throw in Quidditch and we’re nearly done for.”

“Look, I was just being friendly.”

“I know. I appreciate that.”

Just then, a flustered yelp comes from right outside the library. Both you and George turn to look, only to see Crabbe and Goyle tugging on Malfoy’s robes, whose face is seemingly broken out in some type of hive. He’s yelling at the two of them to try any spell, rid me of this! But alas, whatever they do only tends to make the irritation worse. George erupts into laughter.

“What a git,” you say to George.

“Merlin—deserves that, he does. I reckon whoever can pull off that deserves a medal, or something.”

Again you cross your arms—but not indignantly this time. A smirk grows on your face and realization floods over George. He looks back and forth between a very upset Malfoy, and you.

“You?”

“Just jinxed some candies he was eyeing in the common room this afternoon,” you tell him, smirking even more, “I was just so sick and tired of him today. If I had to overhear how bloody wonderful his pureblood family is one more time, I was bound to punch him eventually—reckoned this wouldn’t be as bad for his rep.”

George is still stuck in his spot—his feet cemented into the ground, his entire body is rigid. He’s finding it hard to not peer at you with admiration. Malfoy’s long gone by now—his yelps are growing quieter and quieter as he, Crabbe and Goyle make their way down the corridors toward the Great Hall. You’re still standing in front of George, a smirk on your face and your hands now on your hips, basking in all your glory. Again, as if he hadn’t heard you correctly the first time, George asks, “Y-you? You pranked Malfoy?”

You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he feels his insides twist. Uh-oh. “Color you impressed, Weasley?”

— -

When George was taken aback by your friendly banter in the library those few weeks ago, he never expected to end up back here. In the library. With you. In the row all the way near the back, the row nobody ever visits, after hours in the dark; his hands tight around your abdomen, yours tangled in his hair, his lips on yours for what seems like hours.

The watch on your wrist begins to beep; as if gravity is pulling you both apart, you separate. George groans and tightens his grip on you. “Sorry, Georgie,” you say sweetly, pressing your lips gently to his once more, “got to run—can’t be late for Quidditch practice.”

“Ignore it, ignore it,” George says, eager to kiss you again, “I reckon you can be late just once. Right?”

Somehow still speaking coherently, you say heavily, “Yeah—that won’t look suspicious, or anything. H-how long d’you think we can keep this up?”

He nearly melts when he feels your smile against his lips. “Dunno, but, we’ve made it this far, haven’t we? Want to go public?”

“I don’t think our teams will like that very much,” you reply sadly, running your hands again through his soft hair. You jump up from the table and fix the open buttons on your shirt. “You’ll just have to find a way to sneak into the Slytherin Common Room, then.”

George, now feeling incredibly elated at your interest in mischief, wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Got a lot of faith in me, do you?”

You stand on your tiptoes for a quick peck and adjust his very askew tie. “More than you know. Now c’mon—have got to run, haven’t I? Promise to make it up to you later.”

Once successfully making it out of the closed library without being caught, and bidding you farewell (albeit a bit begrudgingly) in the middle of the corridors before you head to practice, George finds himself nearly skipping through the castle back to the common room. He pops through the portrait hole and immediately jumps onto one of the couches, sprawling himself out across the entire thing and seemingly pushing Ginny off the edge and into an armchair.

“No problem, Georgie, I wasn’t sitting here, or anything..” Ginny growls, taking a spot next to Ron.

“Where’ve you been?” Fred asks a bit angrily, placing his feet up on the table in front of them. “You completely disappeared after class and we haven’t seen you since!”

“Just taking a walk,” George replies, feeling his throat tighten up and knowing that this, full well, is lying straight through his teeth to his own flesh and blood. “Was finishing up an essay first, though.”

Fred, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione all peer at him quizzically with furrowed brows. George can already tell there are questions bubbling up inside them, but the one that comes first isn’t exactly what he expects.

“Why—why’s your hair all messy?” Ginny asks, and George finds himself hurriedly running his hands through it, trying to smooth it down as much as possible, “and your lips, they’re all rosy! Who’ve you been snogging, George?” she giggles.

The confusion Fred was feeling toward his twin seems to subside as he smirks and places his hands behind his head, relaxing into the couch. “Oh—so there’s a girl? At least there’s a bloody good reason behind your disappearances. Who is it, mate?”

Quick on his feet (or so he thinks), George replies, “I’m not snogging anyone. You’re all out of your minds.”

“Give it up, mate.” Ron says cheekily. “We know.”

George swallows thickly. “You don’t know what you’re on about.”

As the rest of the group laughs, Fred pops a chocolate frog into his mouth and tells his twin, “Sure, George. Next time you sneak out for a midnight rendezvous with your girlfriend, be sure to tell her we’d all like to be introduced, eh?”

— -

“They know.”

It’s nearly ten p.m. and you’re sitting in George’s lap speaking in hushed whispers, running a hand gently through his hair at the nape of his neck as he finally is able to tell you about the encounter with his friends after your last meetup. The library is so much darker than the other night.

“They do?”

“Well, sort of,” he says, stroking your knee, “they at least have this theory that I’m sneaking around with someone. Which, they’re not wrong,” he grins cheekily, leaning up to kiss you softly, “but they don’t know who it is, and I’ve never actually told them that their theory is true.”

“D’you want too?”

“Do you?”

You run your fingers gently across his tie; the glistening of George’s eyes are evident in the moonlight streaming in through the windows. You sigh. “I’ll do whatever you’d like. I’m not saying that the sneaking around isn’t fun, because it definitely is,” George shoots you a cheeky smirk, “and I know that—that Gryffindors kind of have this rep to uphold, as do Slytherins—”

“I care more about you than a reputation, to be honest.”

He knows he’s said the right thing; a large grin spreads out across your face. “Me, too.”

George runs a hand through your hair and grins softly.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“Of course I am,” George replies, tightening his grip on you, “it’ll be so bloody nice not to ignore one another in the corridors now.”

You throw your head back and laugh; he’s nearly putty in your hands.

He says, making it final, “So we’ll tell them, then.”

“Together?”

“Yeah, together,” he agrees before lifting you up and placing you on the table, leaning you back against some bookshelves and pressing his lips to yours. He slings his arms around your waist and can feel the goosebumps rise on the back of his neck when you run a hand down his chest. Through a geeky grin, he says, “But not tonight, okay? I’m not quite finished with you yet, love.”

— -

George and Fred exit the Transfiguration classroom, nothing but a very long lunch on their planned activities list for the afternoon. The bump into Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione in the corridors and immerse themselves in conversation.

“Fair warning, everyone,” Harry begins, looking ghastly, “Snape’s in a right awful mood today—can’t help but wonder if someone slipped something into his pumpkin juice.”

“Great,” Ginny groans, “just what I needed to hear as I make my way to the Dungeons.”

“Who’s up for a game of exploding snap later on?” Ron asks the group, loosening his tie a bit, “Just have to get through Divination first.”

Without answering, George then spots you rounding the bend. He knows you’re coming from Ancient Runes and heading toward the Great Hall for lunch, too. You both hadn’t told them yet. Hadn’t found the right time. It’s not as if houses can eat and chat with one another during the feasts, can they?

Without fully registering what he’s doing, George seizes his opportunity and bounces over to you, pulling you into a very tight and very noticeable embrace.

He watches as your eyes widen and begins to laugh. “Erm—what’re you doing?” you ask, pulling back. Then you whisper, “I thought we were telling them together, you know.. after we’ve had time to prepare?”

“I thought now would be a good time.”

You cock your head to the side. “Always keeping me on my toes, aren’t you, Weasley?”

He leans in and kisses you lightly. “Sounds about right, yeah.”

But before the two of you can head over to the group of Gryffindors you thought were distracted by conversation, you suddenly hear, “Well it’s about bloody time.”

You both turn your heads to see a very satisfied looking Fred, cheeky Ron and Harry, and happy Ginny and Hermione looking at you both as George’s hand tightens around your waist as the corridors become even busier.

“You knew?” you and George ask together.

“Well, Fred did,” Ron tells you both. “I swear, it’s like he’s got eyes on the back of his head, or something.”

Fred snickers and smirks at his twin. “Really think you could hide this from me? C’mon, Georgie, you know better. The two of you aren’t exactly subtle when you share stolen glances across the Great Hall every bloody evening,”

Everyone falls into a bit of laughter. As the younger ones introduce themselves quite excitedly and then reluctantly head off to class, you, George, and Fred are left in the emptying corridors with the rest of the seventh years also looking forward to a free period.

“Well, Freddie,” George begins, “she’s—”

Fred holds up a hand to his twin. “I know who she is, Georgie—” then, to you with a smile, he continues, “—but I know you as the Slytherin Chaser.. our opponent, if you will. I don’t know you as my twin’s—”

“Girlfriend,” you and George say together, making Fred begin to laugh. You continue, “Hope the fact that I’m a Slytherin won’t make it complicated.”

Fred can’t help but grin broadly. “Not with me, it won’t—especially if you make my brother happy.” George is relieved to hear this and can finally feel the knot in his stomach unwind. Fred keeps on, “Now—whatever effect you have on him is simply wonderful, Y/N. He’s coming back late at night with all of these incredible pranks up his sleeve, I dunno where he gets it—all I know is that it started happening right around the time the two of you began sneaking around.”

“Confession,” George begins, squeezing your hand now, “not all of those ideas were mine.”

And just as George had looked stunned in the library when he figured out that you’d been the one to prank Draco, Fred looks exactly the same. His expression is an exact carbon copy of his twin’s from that day. “Really?”

“Pranks Malfoy a lot these days,” George begins, looking down at you with admiration, “reckon he has it coming, too.”

You turn to Fred and ask with a smile, “Ruddy pumpkin head, isn’t he?”

Fred is certainly taken aback and wildly impressed. “I might just have to pick your brain, then,” he tells you and slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you along with him as he heads to the Great Hall. He leans in closer to you to speak, leaving George where he’s standing, “Join us tonight, would you? Would love to compare some ideas, if you’re willing.”

You stop in the middle of the corridor and sling your arm around Fred’s back. You peer at George and grin, as if to say, See? We had nothing to worry about. George can’t help but laugh at Fred’s very elated grin when you ask him, “What’d you have in mind, Freddie?”

reblogs & feedback are always appreciated, thank you for reading and requesting, loves x

[arofili]

HCs about Elemmírë?

Oh man, for a character we have next to no information about other than “Vanya” and “sang a really sad song about the Trees,” I have a lot of headcanons for Elemmírë!

First of all, Elemmírë is named after a heavenly body (possibly Arda’s version of Mercury?) and the name is not given in either a masculine or feminine form, so we don’t know Elemmírë’s canon gender. This of course means that Elemmírë is trans, you can’t change my mind! I’ve seen depictions of them as nonbinary, which I love, but personally my Elemmírë is a trans woman!

All the rest of my headcanons are pretty much made up whole cloth :)

I intended to make like, a bullet point list of headcanons, but I ended up referencing my recently created personal timeline of the Years of the Trees and the First Age, and...it kind of expanded into an essay on Elemmírë’s role in the larger story of that verse of mine. So, under the cut is a roughly 2,000 word essay on my take on this blank slate of a character!

~

Elemmírë is one of the Unbegotten elves who awoke at Cuiviénen. When she awoke, everyone assumed she was a male elf, which didn’t really sit right with her but she didn’t know how to express herself at the time. For the first part of her life she lived as a nér.

Elemmírë has a sister*, Calima (one of my OCs). Calima marries an Avar, who she manages to drag with her on the Great Journey despite his reluctance to go West. Right before Ulmo takes the Vanyar and the Noldor to Aman, Calima’s husband leaves her and disappears into Taur-im-Duinath...but not before Calima becomes pregnant. Elemmírë comforts her and supports her through the birth of her child, Elenwë - the first child to be born in Aman.

*(My headcanon around Unbegotten siblings is that some elves woke with soul bonds that connected them to other elves, which while they aren’t genetically related, they consider to be siblings of their fëa. This is the case for Elwë, Olwë, and Elmo; I also gave Nowë (Círdan) and Ingwë OC siblings. Finwë is a loner, which is part of why he’s so concerned about creating and keeping a marriage bond...)

While Ingwë is busy building Tirion with Finwë, his sister-in-law Alcariniel (the mother of Indis; her spouse died on the Great Journey and has yet to be reborn) leads some of the Vanyar to the foot of Taniquetil and founds what will become Valmar. Calima, Elenwë, and Elemmírë go with Alcariniel.

At this time, Elemmírë enters into the service of Varda. She develops a close relationship with her Vala, and feels more comfortable in the beautiful starry robes and among the company of mostly priestesses than she ever did in the more gendered Vanyarin society. She sings and composes hymns to Varda and the heavens.

About a century later, Elemmírë is an established and well-renowned musician in Valmar. It is then that she meets Findis, daughter of Indis, when Findis is visiting Taniquetil with her grandmother Alcariniel. Findis greatly admires Elemmírë’s songs and engages her in a discussion about poetry; the two quickly become friends.

After another hundred years or so, Findis’ half-brother Fëanáro has his fourth child. Finwë invites his whole family to the celebration; Findis now lives in Valmar and does not always attend these begetting day parties, but she happens to be in Tirion for the occasion - with Elemmírë, who tags along to the party.

At the celebration, Makalaurë (a young teen in Elf Years) sings a piece he wrote for his new baby brother, and Elemmírë is greatly impressed by his talent and offers to teach him personally. He’s had music tutors before, but none so renowned, and he is absolutely star-struck. Fëanáro has an inherent distrust of the Vanyar, but he cannot deny his son anything, especially when it comes to furthering his craft, so he agrees to let Elemmírë teach Makalaurë, on the condition that she move to Tirion. Findis offers to move back as well, so her friend won’t be alone; they move in together.

A few years later, Elemmírë takes her star student Makalaurë to Valmar so he can perform at her niece’s 200th begetting day party. This is, of course, Elenwë; Makalaurë is immediately besotted with her, and does his best to impress her. Of course, Elenwë is well into adulthood and Makalaurë is still an awkward adolescent, so nothing ever comes of this, but they do eventually become friends.

All this time, everyone has assumed that Elemmírë is a nér, but with every passing year she becomes more and more certain that is not actually the case. At last she confesses to her dear friend Findis that she thinks she might be a nís, and while Findis isn’t quite sure what that means at first, she’s very supportive and encourages Elemmírë to go to Varda with this revelation.

I do operate in a verse where some homophobia and transphobia exist in Aman, kind of accidently put into place by a well-meaning but ultimately harmful decision by Manwë, but Varda is significantly more chill than her husband. She doesn’t really get what Elemmírë is saying, but she supports her servant’s change in expression. Elven gender roles are pretty loose, so it’s not really that much of a difference, and with Varda’s support Elemmírë feels more confident in herself and comes out to the public.

Most elves, especially the Vanyar, likewise don’t really get it, and privately they still see her as a nér, but there is a firm taboo against rudeness which means they will refer to Elemmírë with the correct pronouns and honorifics and such because it would be incredibly rude not to. The discomfort with someone else’s non-normative expression is easier to deal with than the social impropriety of deliberately refusing to respect someone’s wishes about their personal identity.

This, along with Varda’s kind-of-confused-but-she’s-still-got-the-spirit support of  Elemmírë means it’s a pretty smooth transition process for her. Since her name isn’t gendered, she decides to keep it, and she is much happier now that she can express her true self. She also has a staunch ally in Findis, who she has recently begun courting.

Again, there is some homophobia in my verse, and two níssi in a relationship is generally frowned upon, but the half-acceptance of Elemmírë’s gender allows them to exploit a loophole in that particular Law/Custom. Manwë, at least, still sees Elemmírë as a nér, and so doesn’t see anything wrong with her dating Findis. It’s not the ideal situation, but Elemmírë and Findis aren’t really the “fight the system” type, so they’re content to live with the happiness they’ve been allowed.

Eventually, Makalaurë reaches his first coming of age** and Elemmírë takes her student on a tour of all Eldamar to show off how exceptional a musician he has become. He is declared a master singer, and leaves Elemmírë’s side to pursue mastery in instruments, beginning with the harp. His teacher couldn’t be more proud.

**(In my headcanon, elves have two coming-of-age ceremonies: one when they reach age 50, and are considered physically mature and old enough to be given more freedoms in their decisions, including now being of a socially acceptable age to start dating; and the other at age 100, where they are considered a Full Adult and able to marry. Sometimes elves marry younger than that, but it isn’t super common. Age pretty much stops mattering, especially when it comes to age gaps in relationships, when an elf is about 150.)

Not long after this, Elemmírë and Findis get married! Makalaurë performs his then-masterpiece at their wedding. Also at the wedding, Findekáno is caught up in all the glorious romance, and the possibilities of same-gender marriage now that two níssi (one a princess!) can be wed, and confesses the depth of his love for Maitimo. Maitimo...immediately panics and brings up all the reasons why their love is doomed, how their aunts are the exception and not the rule and besides there’s that loophole they’re taking advantage of that doesn’t really work for néri like us - but notably does not deny that he feels the same way. Findekáno is heartbroken by the rejection; Maitimo is terrified of his feelings and distances himself from his beloved cousin for a time.

But of course that doesn’t last long - and it’s at the celebration of the birth of Laurefindil, Findis and Elemmírë’s son, that Maitimo brings himself to reconcile with Findekáno...platonically. Of course. Until a few months later where he just can’t take it anymore and breaks down and confesses he can’t deny his feelings any longer, and they get together at long last.

Findis, Elemmírë, and Laurefindil return to Valmar and settle down there. Laurefindil is buds with both his Vanyarin cousin Elenwë and his oodles of Noldorin cousins. At his first coming of age celebration, he introduces his cousin Elenwë (on Elemmírë’s side) to his cousin Turukáno (on Findis’ side), and Turukáno immediately falls madly in love and begins some intense pining that will rival even his older brother’s romantic dramatics.

As strife grows among the Noldor, Findis and Elemmírë distance themselves from Tirion as much as they can; Makalaurë is pretty much the only Finwëan who is allowed to visit them. However, Laurefindil misses his Noldorin cousins and, after his second coming of age, chooses to move to Tirion and join his grandfather Finwë’s court. He becomes even closer to Turukáno (who has by now married Elenwë) and is very loyal to his older cousin.

At the Darkening, Elemmírë is deeply grieved at the destruction of the Two Trees, and it is then that she composes her most famous song, the Aldudénië, “Lament for the Trees.” Her grief is compounded when her son chooses to go into exile with his Noldorin kin - and, almost worse, when her niece Elenwë chooses to leave as well.

Elenwë is the only Vanya who leaves (well, the only Vanya who is fully culturally Vanyarin without any Noldorin ancestry), mostly because she cannot bear to be separated from her husband and young daughter, but also because she knows the story of her Avarin father who stayed behind in Endórë and hopes that she will meet him on the hither shore. (Unfortunately, she perishes crossing the Ice. Idril will eventually meet her maternal grandfather, but not until just before she and Tuor sail West. Elenwë is reborn in Aman shortly after the founding of Gondolin; she reunites with her Vanyarin family and with her good friend Amárië.)

I don’t have a whole lot of headcanons for Elemmírë and Findis during the events of the First Age; they live mostly a quiet life. I think Elemmírë rededicates herself to the service of Varda, and pleads with her Vala to show mercy for the Noldor in their need. (Perhaps that helped to convince Varda’s husband to send an eagle to Thangorodrim?)

When they hear of Laurefindil’s death in the Fall of Gondolin (because of course Glorfindel followed his favorite cousin Turgon to his hidden city, and got a noble house out of it!), Elemmírë and Findis grieve his loss all over again. They don’t know how long it will be before his rebirth, and they soon decide to have another child together. This is their daughter, Faniel, who grows up on stories about her brother’s bravery.

Eventually Glorfindel is reborn, and he has a few good centuries in Aman with his family (and his husband Ecthelion, who he finally gets to marry; they had gotten betrothed the day before Gondolin fell, RIP) before the Valar send him back to Middle-earth to play the hero again. Elemmírë and Findis are once again heartbroken to lose him, but they are at the same time incredibly proud of their son for his bravery and dedication to all things good in the world. This time, he leaves with the blessing of Varda, his mother’s patron Vala, and a promise that he will return when his task is complete. He does, but not until the Fourth Age, when he sails back to Valinor with Elladan and Elrohir!

[twinkleallnight]

Marshmallow

(Part-8) Fight or flight

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x MC, Drake x ??

For previous chapters: catch up here

A/N: This fic is my submission for this week’s #WackyDrabbles. The prompt is: ‘Oh? Just once?’ and will appear in bold.

A/N 2: Thank u @ritachacha for helping out and connecting me to @queen-of-effing-everything who gave me a basic idea of the noble houses and further gave a lead and I met @lizzybeth1986 . Lizzy, your essays are amazing. You have helped me with your vast knowledge and It was an enlightening discussion. This chapter wouldn't have been without your inputs.

Music inspo: Connan Gray

Tags: @ao719 @aloneautumn @charlotteg234 @choiceskatie @cordonia-gothqueen @cordonianroyalty @daisydancer12385 @drakewalker04 @gardeningourmet @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @idontknowwhysblog @islandcrow @jovialyouthmusic @jaxsmutsuo @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @mrswalkers-blog @mom2000aggie @no-one-u-know @ntoraplayschoices @ritachacha @speedyoperarascalparty @shanzay44 @texaskitten30 @loudbluebirdlover @queenrileyrose @sanchita012 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @wackydrabbles @yourmajesty09

The next few days are spent busy, at the stables. After couple of days, Liam walks in, as I am tending to Brawny in the separate temporary shed, that I got made for the infected horses. I signal him to wait. I change out of my protective clothes and scrub before meeting him outside.

“Welcome back home! So, how did Lythikos treat you?” I know I am beating around the bush, when I am asking it. But I don’t want to hit him straight with the awkward question. I know he is equally in an uneasy position.

“Yes, all well.” He gives me an agonizing stare. “I had a talk with her.” He brings up the inevitable topic. “I think she did it out of desperation and jealousy.”

“It is alright Liam. She is not blind and not a child anymore. She can see where you are inclined.” I let out a sigh, “It’s difficult to read a woman’s mind. I feel sad for the manner in which we are parting ways. Part of growing up, I guess!”

Liam gives out a sigh too and then changes the subject, “Everything under control here?”

“Yes. I reached in time. There were two more horses showing similar signs. Got all three horses isolated. And vaccinated remaining ones.”

“You are good at your job. Even father seems to have blind faith in you, when it comes to vet skills.” He chuckles.

“Thank you.” I smirk thinking of king Constantine. It’s his inherent nature to always doubt and question everyone. “I have to report and update it to him later today. Let’s see what he has to say.”

Liam gives me a friendly pat, and we head to the palace for a quiet lunch together. I get a call from Max soon after we finish our meals. “It’s an emergency. I am sending you the address. Meet me in half an hour.” He sounds serious.

I drive down to the coffee shop, which he mentioned in his text. When I walk in, I find him sitting in the corner booth, his feet tapping on the floor nervously, and his blue eyes scanning the scene around, in a hope to find solution to the problem he is carrying in his mind.

“What’s wrong?” I ask settling down across the table.

“I don’t know. Bertrand doesn’t seem to be interested in giving me the whole story. He thinks I’m still his baby brother.” He rolls his eyes. “All I know is, that the crew we hired for our yacht for the Royal Regatta scheduled tomorrow, has ditched us.”

“It’s just a symbolic boat race and not an actual one with a pressure to win.” I try to lay down the facts.

“But you know Bertrand. He won’t leave any stone unturned to win it. Also, it’s king’s favourite event. He wants that Riley should bag the prize, so that she gets a chance to interact with the king. It is kind of gaining brownie points.

“Hmm." I ponder. "How many members do we need? Let’s count. You and I will be there.”

“You will do that for me?” he says, his eyes widening with a shine.

“I will. If you promise not to crack your stupid jokes during the event.” I warn him. “Who else can be roped in?”

“I don’t want to include anyone else. I don’t know what is wrong with House Beaumont and it’s difficult to explain to outsiders. So, I think just three of us. I hope we will be able to pull through. Will you be okay with that?”

“Yeah, I see no problem there. What about Bertrand?”

“ He is in a bad mood. Angry, sad, frustrated, all at the same time. He should be fine by tomorrow to give us a helping hand.”

We finish discussing all the minor details for the boat race in next hour and then walk out of the coffee shop.

The following day, at the Royal Regatta, I stand on the deck taking in the salty air.

Riley comes and stands beside me. “What are you looking at?”

“I just realised the actual count of suitors for the first time, by the number of boats, of course. I hardly know any of them. For me they are only the names I hear from the conversation with Liam. I should know at least this much, right?”

“Yes, you are his best friend and best friend should know it all.” She says it with a wink.

“Am I missing something?”

“Just that, may be, I am falling head over heels for your friend.” She grins.

“And you are revealing this to me and not him?”

“I don’t want to burden him more. He has too much to handle already. I know, being a crown prince, he cannot open up about his feelings for one particular suitor in the midst of the social season. So, I don’t want to tell him, just yet, lest he gets anxious and tries to spend more time with me. That would put him in a tricky situation.”

I sweep her in a big bear hug. “Oh, Brooks! I am so happy to know that.” I part away and look into her brown eyes, tears of happiness glinting in them. “He is so lucky to have you. That’s all he needed. Someone who understands him, his struggles, his responsibilities.”

I hug her back and whisper in her ears, “Let me give out a secret. He may also be sharing the same feelings.”

“I know.” She says gleefully looking up at me.

“Okay now let me help you enhance your knowledge about my competitors.” She rolls her eyes. “Let’s start from the right.” She points out to the boat lined up in extreme right to us.

The sight is full of colourful sails. Each of these boats have a flag representing their house. The one Riley pointed to, has a black flag with a silver owl on it.

Riley starts “That should be from the duchy of Castelsarreillan represented by Kiara Theron, the future Duchess.” Riley continues.

“Yes, the owl represents their house. Their family has intelligence and art running in their blood. Duke Theron is a very wise man and the Duchess is an artist.” I add on.

“So, you have met him?”

“Once.”

“Oh? just once?” Riley gives me a playful smile.

“Yeah.”

“Kiara is very smart, logical person and a linguist.” Riley elaborates. “Next to her should be her best friend’s boat.”

I observe purple flag with golden waves and a narwhal painted on it. “Portavira.” I blurt out.

“ I guess, it’s the only duchy with a sea port. Penelope Ebrim represents the house. Easy way to identify her is, you will find her talking about her poodles every now n then. You may like her.” She teases me. “She is an animal lover and she is sweet and kind.” She flashes that smile again.

I cut her, “Wait. Are you trying to set me up, Brooks?”

She lets out a laughter. “No, I better not. I can see where your interests lie.” She raises a knowing eyebrow at me, making me blush behind my tough skin.

“Let’s quiz you with the one with green flag.” Riley gestures at the next boat where a green flag with a pine tree on it, flutters.

“Madeliene, right?”

“Yes, the ambitious countess of Fydelia.” Riley fans out her hand. “You must be knowing all about her from Leo’s social season.” She pauses and then claps for the boat next to us. “ And that’s my dear friend Hana as our left side neighbour.”

A pink flag with purple orchids, furnishes Hana's boat. Just then, as on cue, Hana appears on the deck. “Hey there guys!” She waves out. “Time to greet the king at the harbour.”

“Lets go!” Riley jumps up excitedly.

“You proceed. I am better here, away from the crowd. I will wait for you to come back, and then we do our favourite thing together. Race!”

“As it suits you.”

“Just one question. How do you know so much in detail about all the houses in such a little time? A few months back, you didn’t even know where on earth Cordonia is,!”

Riley smiles wide, “Bertrand is my teacher, remember?” she says gazing up at the House Beaumont flag on our boat that shines with its silver sheen, a squid in the centre and the motto embroidered in blue, 'Depths to remember'.

“We didn’t talk about your friend’s, House Nevrakis, but I am sure you don’t need introduction there.” Riley speaks looking at the only boat to our left side.

I shake my head and make myself busy, untangling the wires of my earphones that I plan to put on, till Riley returns and the race begins. She shrugs her shoulder, “Bye! See you in a jiffy!”

“Bye!” I wave out to her and turn to the sea.

Before I could plug in some music, the fluttering of the Nevrakis flag catches my attention. The crimson flag has a flaming sword of steel on it. The motto shines in gold,

‘If you can breathe, you can stand.

If you can stand, you can fight.’

Just then a seagull flies high over the boat, crooning a song for the lonely sea.

I plug in my earphones and the song fills my ears and my mind,

‘Something’s gotten into you

You don’t really look at me the way you used to

And I’m hoping it ain’t true

Every single rumour that I’ve heard of you say……..

It’s time to move,

Fight or flight….

Fight or flight.’