#Fic: Practical Alchemy

[elodieunderglass]

Oh wow, this crossed my dash and that was my post addition!

Present Practice something that didn’t come easy to me either (in keeping with the topic of the post.) it was something I thought about after realising how hurt I was that my child never said goodnight to me. I would say goodnight I love you so much and do all these things and have this whole special story and they’d just complain, until I realized I had to explain about how you’re supposed to say goodnight and extra points for I love you.

I’ve realized Present Practice has recurred in my writing, indicating that it’s near the top of my mind in terms of important things I can give to the world, and once I figure out what I’m doing with this story this it’s OVER for you guys you’re getting TOLD, you’re getting kissed on the forehead:

This was where he did the only thing so far that he was proud of in this day. He did not start shouting, even though his temper was going something like What the fuck, kids, but worse. He stopped, took a minute, and remembered he'd had this whole thing where he'd wanted his kids to love him. He rubbed his nose, said, "Remind me," and his daemon reminded him: "What do we want them to actually do?"

And he said, "The bare minimum fucking acknowledgement would be nice."

And Bee said, "Have we explained that to them? Do they know?"

Which I believe is worth working on because of the very hard-won long-practiced belief that it is easier to share a lesson if you do it through a little story. An anecdote about my kids or my life or a little fanfiction. Which is exactly what you just said

Anyway thank you so much for reading one of my post additions and writing a post in which you hold up some of what I’ve said and show it to people and say “this is a philosophy” and I’m like “o shit! It IS!” And you’re like “you could apply it to other things” and I’m like “DAMN!”

I've been musing a bit on that one post that went around during the recent holiday season, to which someone added their family tradition of Present Practice. My god! Imagine actually telling kids what behavior is expected, instead of expecting them to intuit it and punish them when they get it wrong!!

Separate post because this topic is a little tangential to that, but I think it does a great job of unearthing one of our very well-hidden internal biases, which goes as follows:

Good people don't need to be taught.

A good person (in this case, a good child) shouldn't need to be told to be gracious and grateful when given a gift. A good child should just know that a holiday tradition of gift-giving is a social performance to strengthen family bonds and that personal preference or genuine reactions are secondary to that performance. A good child should just know how to value gifts, how to express thanks, how to praise and compliment. No caretakers in their lives should need to put any effort into instructing or modeling these things.

Good people should just know how to be good. If they were really Ontologically Good, their inherent goodness would simply intuitively guide them to correct behaviors. If they can't do that on their own, in a vacuum, in the absence of cues, that's a sign of their inherent moral lack.

.

.

...Which all sounds very reasonable and obvious, and surely a mistake that only fundie christian families would make! Except that people in the social justice sphere also do this all the time. It's not anybody's job to educate you. You should know this already. If you were a Good Person, you wouldn't need to be taught. You would simply intuit the correct philosophies and gravitate to them according to your superior internal moral compass.

If you were a Good Person, you would already know that everything you were taught by your family and/or background was wrong. You should have rejected it already. You should have cut off your family, your heritage, everything about your childhood and upbringing that was Bad and Wrong. You should have known it was all a lie.

If you were a Good Person, you should be able to find the correct way yourself. You should be able to seek out the proper educational resources, and distinguish them from bad advice leading you astray, and make sense of them all according to your own internal moral code.

If you were a Good Person, you would have found your way by the proper, ascetic, official channels, not by reading a comic or watching anime. You shouldn't need entertainment or art to guide you. You should just know.

And if someone can't do these things on their own, in a vacuum, in the absence of cues, that's a sign of their inherent moral lack.

[lqveharrington]

Someday | D.M.

summary: you and draco are from opposing houses, and you were terrified how your friends were going to react when they found out.

pairing: draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader

includes: secret relationship, kissing, arguing, lots of fluff but also angst, draco and reader are SOOO in love

a/n: kind of a before ‘the alchemy’ fic but not necessarily (i love writing hufflepuff reader and totally not because im a hufflepuff…)

You were three years into dating the Slytherin Prince. Three years of secret love and longing glances from across the classroom. Three years of your friends not knowing. You never meant for three years to pass by without letting your friends know that you were dating someone they. Hell, they thought you were going to be alone forever because you refused to go on dates with anyone they suggested. You were just terrified to see how they would react to you dating Draco Malfoy himself.

“Hi, my darling.” Draco smiled when you found him in your favorite section of the library. He tilted your head up by the chin and pressed a quick kiss to your lips, feeling you grin into his kiss. “How are you?”

You slot your hand in his hand spin his family signet, shrugging as you found a lack of words. “I guess tired. I helped Madame Pomfrey with a student who hurt himself trying a puking pastille thinking it was a normal gummy.”

“Look at you being a healer. Already starting early.” He thumbed your palm and let out a soft chuckle when you scrunched your nose. “M’gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

“Such a flirt, Malfoy. If I knew any better, I would think you like me.” You giggle with a lopsided smile and press a kiss to his lips. You felt his hand travel to the curve of your waist, holding you gently against him. “Wow, take me on a date first.”

He shushed you and pulled you around, tucking you away from the prying eyes looking down the aisles. Draco squeezed your waist when the people left and softly lifted your head off his chest.

“There were people.” He murmured and rubbed the bottom of your chin, eyes looking across your face. “I know you don’t want anyone here to know just yet.”

You purse your lips and nod, glancing down the aisle in thought. You knew how much he wanted everyone to know about the both of you, but he respected your wishes. Sighing, you rest your forehead on his chest and shut your eyes. It was going to be a long year.

As weeks and eventually months passed, you still hadn’t told your friends about your relationship. It resulted into longing glances from across the room and quick touches whenever you passed the other in the hall. However, your friends soon caught onto you, and they wanted to get to get to the bottom of your secret relationship.

“You have to at least tell us how long you’ve been together.” Hannah Abbott took your hands in hers and squeezed them, practically bouncing in excitement in the courtyard. “I want to know everything!”

She spun around the courtyard, making you laugh. Susan Bones sighed and rested her head on your shoulder, also curious to who this mystery person was. “Hannah, I’m sure they haven’t been dating for that long, right?”

You give her a glance and avert your eyes, face flushing pink. “We’ve been dating for a good while.”

“Like how long?” Hannah spun her way back over to you and squinted. You pursed your lips and looked down at your shoes. “It’s been more than a year?”

“Three years, actually.” You murmur and cover your ears when both girls squeal in joy before realizing what this meant. You raised your brows when they looked at you like you were crazy. “What?”

“You’ve been dating someone for three whole years and haven’t told us about it? How rude!” Susan crossed her arms and stuck her chin up, making you sigh.

Hannah looked between the two of you in concern. She knew that you were an over thinker, but she never thought you would keep anything that big away from your best friends. Especially three years worth of friendship without knowing of your relationship.

“How about we talk about this later when we don’t have classes to get to?” She tried to defuse the tension between the two of you, doing her best to avoid anymore fighting. “I’m sure we have a lot to debrief after herbology.”

“Darling?” Draco stumbled back a little when you ran into his arms, holding you tight against him. He pressed a kiss to your head, albeit confused to your sudden rush but knowing you needed it. “What’s wrong?”

“Just hold me for a little bit.” You mumble into his suit and find his hand, fiddling with his fingers. Your breathing slowly evened out as you listened to his heart beat and messed with his ring, shutting your eyes for a split second. “Sorry. I needed a second to just breathe.”

He clicked his tongue and tilted his head to meet your eyes, “You don’t have to apologize for that.” Draco slowly maneuvered the both of you down to the floor of the astronomy tower and let you continue to play with his fingers, sitting side by side as the sun began to set. “Tell me what happened, my love.”

You stayed quiet for a little while and stared at his palm, letting the wind blow gently through your hair before speaking. “Susan got upset that I never told her about us and Hannah isn’t sure which side to take.” You rest your head on his shoulder and look at the colors of the sky. “Right after herbology, Hannah wanted us to talk it through but Susan refused and left straight for the common room.”

Draco listened intently to your words, his thumb tracing hearts into your palm. He was shocked to hear your friend blatantly ignore your own feelings and avoiding having to talk it through. It wasn’t like you were doing it without reason. Any person would be shocked to see a Hufflepuff and Slytherin dating.

“I knew we were meeting up here so I just came up early.” You finished and finally lace your hands together, looking up at him with so much emotion. “Sorry if I worried you.”

“Stop saying sorry.” He murmured and looked down at you, his beautiful gray and blue eyes meeting your own. “You needed a moment, darling, it’s alright.”

The fading sky soon darkened to the night sky you and Draco loved so much. Like always, the first thing you would do is point out his constellation, the dragon made of the prettiest stars. However, your moment was soon interrupted with the clambering of feet up the astronomy stairs.

“Susan, she always comes up here after dinner.” You heard Hannah say, almost out of breath from how many stairs she walked up. It wasn’t like she took astronomy classes.

Draco went to move away from you, but you refused to move. You figured it was time for them to put the pieces together. Besides, there wasn’t much places to hide up here.

As their steps got closer and eventually on the balcony, you could barely make out their bodies until Hannah used lumos to light up her wand. She found you much faster in the process, but the shock that covered her face made you want to hide in the darkness forever.

“Hi.” You murmur and look away, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your emotions in check.

As if he could feel you in the verge of tears, Draco squeezed your hand and allowed you to play with his fingers again. He didn’t look over at the girls, only keeping his eyes on you. The moment your eyes met, Draco nodded his head toward the girls and murmured words of encouragement to you.

Your name fell from Hannah’s lips, making you look over at her. “Why didn’t you just tell us?”

You purse your lips and tighten your grip on Draco, pulling his ring until you held it in your palm. The tension between the four of you was thickening, but you knew something had to happen.

“I don’t know… I figured you guys wouldn’t like it because— Well, it’s Malfoy.” You say quietly and look at Draco with little amusement, earning an eye roll back from him. “And it’s not like I meant to hide this for so long, I just got scared.”

Hannah and Susan looked at each other before looking over at you, watching Draco continue to whisper words when you rested your forehead on his shoulder. They saw how much he cared for you and how much you meant to him. When he slipped his signet to your finger and you moved to smile up at him to press a kiss to his lips, they knew this was it for you.

“You apologize right now, Susan.” Hannah whisper-shouted to her, shoving her forward. “They’re clearly in love and she was just scared about our opinion because they belong to two completely different houses!”

“We can hear you.” Draco spoke to them for the first time, his voice clear to the two girls.

They froze and looked toward the blonde, wincing when they saw him raise his brows. Hannah let out an awkward laugh and stepped closer, nudging Susan once more.

She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, “Listen, I didn’t mean for you to get upset. I just felt offended that you would leave me and Hannah out of such an important detail in your life. I mean, we would’ve been a little skeptic, but we can see how much you two love each other.” Susan looked over at Hannah and smiled when she nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, we love you! We just felt left out but I get it. I know it can feel scary to tell others about something that could change someone’s opinion on you.” Hannah kneeled and took your hands from Draco’s, squeezing them softly. “But we will always love you.”

You smiled and hugged her tightly, burying your head in her shoulder. Hannah laughed and hugged you back with the same fervor, Susan joining after you reached a hand out to her.

Draco — knowing you needed a minute — stood up and watched you. The smallest smile creeping up on his face when you opened your eyes with the biggest smile on your face. Your fears were diminished. Your friends supported you in all you did, and Draco knew that you would always have your friends no matter what.

Even if they took a second to understand, they came around in the end because they loved you. And they knew Draco loved you just as much.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[pomefioredove]

Omg hiii! I saw that your requests were open again! Please take your time and prioritize your rest, and as always your writing is such a delight to read! I always look forward to your posts! 💖💖💖

That being said, can you please write for a Yuu/reader that has a love for painting (but is shy about showcasing their skill) , and was absolutely taken by Vil's beauty even before they met him? Of course they didn't know that he was a famous actor at first. What if Vil one day finds their sketches and paintings of him after months of knowing him? (hmm preferably after the events of book 6..? 👀)

SO CUTE!!! kicking my legs back and forth at this anonnn

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the picture of vil schoenheit

type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

How were you supposed to know?

It's not like Crowley had given you a guide on Night Raven College or its students (though, wouldn't that have been nice?)

I mean, you had to reminded of Trey's last name not two weeks ago. How were you supposed to know who Vil Schoenheit is?

You'd only seem him at a distance. Passed him by in the halls while he scolded some poor first year. He even looked beautiful when he was angry.

He was just made to be painted.

You didn't show your friends the art. You didn't need to give Ace another reason to tease you, and being a stalker would've really been the cherry on top of your weirdness sundae.

Besides, it was just drawing. Practice! Sketches from a distance, doodles done in the margins of your notes, watercolors and paintings from memory...

It felt familiar. This man, this stranger, someone you hadn't even spoken to, made you feel a little closer to home.

.

"Really, you should have some sort of organizational system,"

Vil leafs through pages of alchemy reports and history of magic homework. "Might I suggest a recycling bin?"

You smile. It's not often that your friend- Vil Schoenheit, that is- has a day off. But today is Saturday, and your room is in desperate need of his touch.

"This is... chaotic," he says, brushing a clump of Grim fur off his shoulder. "And you live like this?"

You shrug. "I try,"

"Well, try no more. We'll have this done before dinner,"

His commitment is touching. Millions of screeching fangirls would give anything just to spend five minutes with Vil, and here he is, tidying your room for you.

It's almost cute. He's humming to himself, hair tied back in a ponytail, in one of your shirts (his are too nice to get dirty), sweeping Grim fur out from under your bed.

"Rook and Epel couldn't make it?" you ask, pretending not to care that it's just the two of you.

"I told them not to bother,"

"Oh?"

Vil tsks. "They would get in the way. We're much more efficient on our own- we work well together, after all,"

That's something he'd said before. You'd always wondered what it meant.

"Right,"

You switch places, going to strip your bed of its sheets for washing while Vil tidies your desk.

Off go the pillow cases, the comforter, the blankets. You're wrestling with your mattress when you notice that he hasn't moved in a while.

He's looking through some of the papers from within the bowels of your desk, smiling to himself, a finger held to his perfect lips.

"What?"

"Hm?" he hums, but he doesn't look at you. "Oh, just... admiring your work. You have quite an eye for detail, have I ever told you that?"

He's being weird. You let go of your bundle of bedding and look at what he's holding, but it's just your sketchbook.

Oh. Oh, no. It's your sketchbook.

"OH! Um, wait-" you say, rushing to his side. "Don't- don't look!"

Vil smirks, and he holds the art over your head. "How unfair. The muse should always be the first to see, you know,"

Damn his height and perfect, slender arms!!! Your eyes widen. "It's not what it looks like! I didn't know you when I did those!"

"Yes, I saw the dates. You could make a career out of admiring me, you know~" he chuckles. "I'd pay for these. I'm sure Rook would like a few, as well."

You're practically melting with embarrassment. "Come on- give it back!"

Seeing your pathetic, embarrassed whining, Vil relents, handing you the sketchbook with an eye-roll.

"What are you ashamed of? They're fine pieces,"

"It's not that," you clutch the book to your chest. "It's just- uh- weird, isn't it?"

Vil scoffs. "I'm weird?"

"NO! I meant- I didn't even know you, and I drew you almost every day- that isn't... strange?"

He takes a moment to study you, your body language, the embarrassed look on your face. From head to toe. And then he smiles, warmly.

"I am in a dorm with Rook. There are very, very few things that I find strange now. You admire me- I'm flattered,"

He gingerly takes sketchbook out of your arms and opens it again. "Not to mention, you have an artistic eye that any director would kill for."

You stand there, a little dumbfounded, but mostly very, very grateful that he's your friend, and that you can laugh about this together.

"I'm... well... thank you," you finally say.

Vil smirks, and pinches your cheek. "You're precious. Now, back to work. I want this room over with. These paintings won't frame themselves, will they?"

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Hehehehe okay so what if you like wrote a fic about remus lupin x reader. The reader is a teacher (preferably like astronomy) and they're sneaking around together. students are making bets and stuff to see if they'll end up together, some girls just ship them really hard.

They're trying so hard to keep it a secret but they are so bad at it.

Me @ every guy who isn't a fictional wizard from the 70s ^^

An: This fluff attempt goes out to you, rip

Rumors

Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

cw: A lot of kisses and cursing, stapler mishandling

Masterlist

WC:4181

The halls of Hogwarts were filled with hushed whispers and mindless patter of gossip. The newest topic of the year? 

Professor {L/N}, the newest astronomy hire. An Alchemist who perfected her work through star charting. Lupin had recommended you for the post to assist Sinistra. Mostly, however, you were hired on to assist with the newest project under Dumbledore. With your studies in the North Pole, you were tasked with on and off communications with the centaur herd within the Forbidden Forest. Specifically, their astronomy masters. It was easy, given your track record with magical creatures. Creating a bridge of mutual understanding between the professors and the herd. Dumbledore also saw you valuable to both potions and alchemy class; meaning you met a lot of students very fast.

So almost everyone knew you, you ran a tight ship in class, playful and respectful to the students paired with a charming personality, no one could bring themselves to even hate you.

That's probably how the rumors began, truthfully. Who doesn't want their two favorite teachers to end up together?

Much like Lupin, the students adored you. Hermione especially, after learning of your academic achievements of the past, while being a muggleborn witch. 

Your first reaction to seeing him probably don't help. First few steps into your new place of employment and you hurry over to the only face you cared to recognize, and give him a hug and a thank you for the recommendation. 

It wasn't anything big and it wasn't anything of a spectacle, but Merlin, was Hogwarts boring. The thrill of gossip seemed to have every student in a choke hold. Some said you were both childhood friends turned lovers, some said you were married and it was a scandalous affair, most of the rumors were just students talking about how perfect you both fit together. 

Your caring, funny, and nurturing behavior, to his stern more rugged form of bonding, you were affectionately dubbed ‘mum and dad.’ 

Never to your face however, and mostly by the first and seventh years. Something about growing shame and losing it in your final days of Hogwarts, remarkable.

~~~

“I'm telling you! He looks at her like she is the very stars she teaches us about!” A seventh year sighed dreamily with her friends. She had her chin in her palms and was staring up at the front of class while a few of their classmates took the practical exam. “I wish someone would look at me like that.”

“Really! I haven't seen so much tension between two faculty before! I wouldn't be surprised to find them snogging in the halls!” One of them joked and the other girls laughed.

“Truly, but I saw Professor {L/N} wearing a wedding ring. She took it off and put it in her pocket before class started. I wonder if they are, you know~ Never have I seen Professor Lupin wear one.” She wiggled her eyebrows and the original girl spoke up with a gasp.

“Oh don't you say that! Professor Lupin and Professor {L/N} would never!” She tutted and another voice chimed in, a boy from a seat behind them, making the three turn.

“I heard that they spent Christmas at school together.” Cedric cheeked and the three girls gasped and began to murmur among themselves about it, before Lupin clapped his hands.

He found it a bit amusing, he had let them continue that far. This is what his classes have become, listening to the students muttering about him and you, seeing how close they could possibly get to the truth. Remus, at a fault, was a gossip. He learned to love the thrill of rumors from Sirius and James, but what was better than rumors about you and a colleague? Rumors about you and a colleague that were so close to the truth.

“Right now! Who's next?”

The rest of the class went smoothly, everyone finished their exams and the classroom began to file out. As Lupin got comfortable in his seat, his door peaked open.

“If you are here for tutoring, please note my hours are posted on the door, this first hour has been reserved already.” Lupin called out from his chair, head leaned back. 

“Tutoring, hm?” A song-like voice rang out from the door. He slowly smirked and leaned forward, eyes locking onto yours. You were holding a box of Merlin knows what, walking straight up to his desk with that beautiful smile. 

“Is that so unbelievable?” He teased, voice lower as he stood up and walked around his desk. Looking over your shoulder to peek into the box, seeing several random objects, including a stapler, a retractable ruler, a metal pointing stick, and other random muggle things.

“Oh, totally. I think I remember you almost lost it when Peter asked for your notes.” You teased him and he chuckled, his breath brushing against your neck. He admired the way you seemed to not flinch, but melt into his proximity. 

“Peter was a terrible student.” He mumbled and you laughed, his hand slipping around your waist and leaning down to kiss the side of your neck. You laughed harder and squirmed away. 

“Hands to yourself. Now, show me where I can hide this contraband.” You lifted the box and shook it a bit. “The things they allow in muggle schools! Hmph!” You mused and he laughed, walking you up to his office and to the far back near a storage closet. He opened the door for you and you set the box down, looking around curiously.

The room was small, but big enough for four people to stand in it comfortably. The walls were covered in shelves filled with items from all over the school years, you ran your finger along one of the shelves and let the dust collect.

“What's on your mind, hm?” Lupin mused and you turned to smirk at him.

“Just wondering where they are hiding the really bad stuff. Still in Filtch’s closet?” You hummed as he stepped into the small room with you. His eyes looked you over and you gave him a look.

“Why's that, darling?”

“Just curious, out of all the things in that closet,” You hummed as Remus wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you against him. Your fingers dancing along his shirt collar. “Wonder how many of them were from you and that little gang of yours.” You hummed and he laughed.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to yours. It was chaste and sweet. He loved moments like this, away from everyone, where he could love you properly. He gave a hum as you got on your toes and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down as he pulled you closer.

~~~

“I truly don't  think they have something going on. It's maddening really! The whole school seems to see it but me!” Ron groaned as he walked down the hall with Harry and Hermione, seemingly offended at the idea that the new Astronomy teacher was dating or even had interest in Lupin.

"I wouldn't put too much stock in rumors about someone's love life, Ronald," Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, sorry Ron, but you're kind of…” Harry rolled his wrists and Ron narrowed his eyes.

“Kind of what?” 

“Kind of..” Harry trailed off.

“Kind of a complete idiot when it comes to love.” Hermione finally snapped, hugging her books to her chest. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to meet Professor Lupin.” She huffed and stomped off.

Ron was left standing there like an idiot, looking over at Harry. 

“What did I do?”

Harry tried to hide his smile and patted Ron's shoulder to urge him along and out of the halls.

~~~

The kiss had grown a bit heated, Remus pushed you deeper into the closet as he muttered about how badly he needed to have you in his arms. How much he loved you, how he wanted you closer, so impossibly close.

You, of course, returned the sentiment. He was made for your hands it seemed, every moment he wasn't between them made you yearn for just another hour of listless cuddles or moments like this. Sneaking away from responsibilities to show your love and devotion to one another. 

If only it could last longer-

“Professor Lupin?” Hermione's voice called out into his office. Remus cursed and you quickly stumbled back. He cleared his throat, shuffling through the confiscated objects, to find anything he could snag. 

“I'll be out in a moment!” He called back as you fixed his tie and ruffled shirt, he grabbed the first thing he spotted and stole another quick kiss from you before leaving the room.

You leaned against a shelf and watched from the crack of the door in amusement as Lupin hurried to his desk.

“Ms. Granger, I am terribly sorry, is it possible for us to reschedule?” Remus pressed and looked at what he had in his hand.

A stapler.

Why on earth did he grab a stapler?

Quickly he sat at his desk and pulled out a few assignments. Grabbing some he had already graded and began to staple them together. 

Hermione was no fool and he knew that, she stared at him in bewilderment, slowly putting her hands on her books tighter. “Uhm, Professor? Isn't that the stapler Professor {L/N} confiscated from Creevey?” 

Lupin began to staple things a bit quicker, waving her off. 

“Yes, Ms. Granger, I think it would be, but I did borrow it from the confiscated,” He weaned on, collected and poised, a bit too good at putting up a face. Everytime you two have almost been caught, he's shown this side. 

“Why would you possibly need a stapler?” He asked in disbelief.

“To.. staple?” He lifted his eyebrow at her. “I do appreciate your curiosity, but I assure you this is none of your concern.” He spoke idley, having opened the stapler and pressed the top down against the pages and his table. Hermione seemed appalled at the misuse. 

“Now, if you'll please allow me to pick another time-” Before he could finish his statement, he attempted to raise his hand, only for his wrist to be locked in place. He looked down, just to see he had stapled his own sleeve to the desk under a few pages of paper. 

You had to cover your mouth and so did Hermione.

“Uhm, on second thought, sir, I think I'll spend my study hour in the library.” She slowly smirked, turning to briskly walk away.

Remus slowly sunk his face into his hands, the second his classroom door was closed he waved his hand to shut his office door. Only for the room to be filled with your laughter.

You walked out of the room, holding your sides as Lupin lost his front and stared at you with flushed cheeks.

“Not a word-”

“No! No please!” You wheezed out. “Several! Several words must be had!” You doubled over his desk, struggling to get the staple from his sleeves, when you finally managed, you were throwing your head back absolutely lost in boisterous laughter.

Remus wasn't even mad. How could he be? You looked so damn happy. So giddy with joy at the embarrassing show he put on. Quickly, he stood, walking around his desk with a purpose and grabbed your cheeks. You were still struggling to catch your breath as he playfully scoffed at you.

“Not very polite, Professor {L/N}.” He taunted and you grabbed his biceps and clung to him to try and clam down. It didn't help when he leaned down and began to pepper kisses all over your hot face. 

“Mercy!” You wheezed and he shook his head.

“What happened to all those words, Professor?” He teased and you shook your head, giggling as he absolutely mawled you with his lips.

~~~

The Grandhall was lively with the buzz of Sirius Black’s attacks. Managing to get into the Gryffindors’ common room was a feat that bewildered everyone.

However, what everyone was truly talking about was how he broke into the astronomy tower and Professor {L/N}’s office. It had managed to get out that Sirius Black himself left you a note that Dumbledore promptly confiscated. More accurately, the conversation was about how unbothered you were about the news.

That, and how a certain professor reacted to that news. 

He had gone down to the commons with McGonagall to check on Harry and the other students. Only when Flitwick came up in a rush and announced the break in and how you were nowhere to be found, the students watched in horror and shock as Lupin pulled his wand and ran from the towers at a speed they couldn't determine was truly human.

He found you soon after, running down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower, also looking for Harry. He stopped and pulled you into a tight hold no one could see. You were confused at first, but you eventually melted into him. You two were spied on by none other than Colin Creevey, who snapped a photo and was showing it around the lunch table. 

“See! I knew it! What a romantic! Ran straight to her in the face of danger?” One of the seventh years swooned and Ron scoffed.

“I don't get it, it's just two people hugging.” He mumbled and began to poke at his food, the twins giving each other a look before they rushed to tease Ron.

“Two people hugging,” Fred started.

“Hands below the waist!” George chimed in, holding up the photo as if to emphasize his point, gesturing to where Lupin's hands were holding you so tight your heels were slightly off the ground.

“Oh, how scandalous.” Fred concurred and Ron rolled his eyes.

“I hug Hermione, does that make us secretly married?” Ron pushed and Hermione quickly looked down at her book in a slight flush. 

“You wish.” George snickered and Fred clapped his hand on Ron's back, making him cough on his potatoes.

“Really, Ronald dearest, you wouldn't know the difference. You hardly know how to hold a girl now.” He teased and George nodded along.

“You'll get there one day, brother. For now you'll have to trust us.”

“This,” They both pointed this time.

“Is not a normal hug.” Both of them spoke at the same time.

Angelica finally spoke up. “Given the context, that man is whipped. Even if nothing is happening now, he is so in love it's humbling.” She got up and gathered her Quidditch gear.

“Come on boys.”

“Right behind you.” Fred purred and earned himself a look from her over her shoulder, George laughed as the three of them hurried off. Leaving the photo for Ginny to pick up.

“Oh yeah, there is absolutely no platonic explanation for this.” She hummed and tossed it to the center of the table, Neville shrugged, no wanting to contribute. 

“I think that whatever is happening between those two, it's clear they care about each other.” Hermione hummed and Harry finally agreed. Suddenly, he looked at his friends with a look of absolute mischief.

“Do you know how we can find out?” He mused and Hermione gave a groan and Ron shot up in his seat.

“How?”

Harry smirked and pulled out the map the twins had gifted him, showing it off to his friends with a cocky smirk. You had caught him with it days ago, and simply zipped your lips and walked away.

“If they are meeting anywhere, it's likely the astronomy tower.”

~~~

Now.. the plan didn't go exactly as planned.

“And I simply can not comprehend how all three of you continue to be the only Gryffindors I've had to reprimand this year!” Lupin’s voice filled the otherwise silent and empty Defense Against The Dark Arts classroom. Unfortunately for the trio, who were out far past curfew, Lupin just so happened to be on his way to the Astronomy tower when he spotted them seemingly just on time for his arrival.

“What about my brothers?” Ron muttered before Hermione shot him a look, elbow jabbing his side.

“Ronald.” She hissed.

The entirety of Hogwarts Valley had been buzzing with the news of Sirius Black’s newest escapade into the castle and Lupin could not comprehend why the three thought it was a good idea to do everything but what they were told. 

“Safety comes first and for me to find you lot outside of your dorms with a murder on the loose? With this bloody-” Lupin began to lift the map before his eyes snapped up at the sound of his door opening. He quickly shut his mouth when he saw you peak into the dark space.

“Remus?” You called out, before you paused and stared at the four infront of you. Your mind firing off a million excuses in quick succession. “Oh, I was unaware you had company.”

Lupin sighed and rubbed his face, seeming to untangle himself from the thralls of his anger. It wasn't uncommon for you two to find eachother late at night like this, but was certainly not the greatest idea of his yet- reprimanding the trio when he knew you'd be coming. As you always did when he didn't meet you at the Astronomy tower as promised. His favorite part of the end of a stressful day was a night full of whispers, stories and playful remarks. Reminiscing on your school years while recreating some memories long forgotten after the war. This time, not in his dorm, but his office or your room. “It's quite alright. I can still review your lesson plans.”

He was a terrifyingly good liar. That should not be attractive.

“Right. I will be in your office, Lupin.” You remarked and began to walk past the group of three who looked at you like you might save them. Sorry kiddos- he was grumpy enough as it was. 

You gave them a grimace, glancing at the map before quickly looking away with wide eyes and hurrying over to the office. Lupin caught the look and held up his hand. “Stop.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and slowly turned to face him. Giving him your adorable nervous look that you knew didn't work on him- well, you tried.

He made a come hither motion and you walked over, ready to be lectured like the kids beside you. He held up the map and you gave a nervous smile. 

“What? However, did you find this, Harry? This is supposed to be in Flinch’s office!” You gave the worst and most unbelievable fake disappointed tone, hands on your hips and frowning down at the three. You struggled not to smile as Harry gave a small one, before laughing a bit. Hermione covered her face in a mix of fluster and secondhand embarrassment. Ron was grinning ear to ear. 

“{L/N}...” Lupin warned and you huffed.

“You got me in trouble with the big boss here, Harry.” You teased and he finally cracked his lips into a brighter smile. You looked back at Remus and slowly interlocked your fingers in front of your lips, as if it did anything to hide your face. “In my defense-”

“You three are dismissed.” He mused quickly and slammed the paper on the table beside him. You tried your best to hide your smile. It was hard to take him seriously when you have seen him panic and staple his sleeve to a desk. The trio hurried to shuffle out, Harry sent you a greatful look and you simply winked at him. Something Remus rolled his eyes at.

“Did you see Harry with the map?” He asked in a stern tone when the kids left. You looked away and tried to look a little regretful. 

“It's very possible.” 

“And you didn't think to take it?” He asked in an incredulous tone.

“I mean, it certainly crossed my mind.” You slowly stopped hiding your smile and looked back to the taller man who was taking a few steps into your space.

“And you didn't?” He pushed.

“Well, in all fairness, Rem. It is technically his.” You snarked back finally and Remus gave a bitter laugh. 

“Professor {L/N}, did you think that maybe if this map fell into the wrong hands it could cause a serious danger to Harry?” He pushed and you clicked your tongue. You knew who he was talking about. A conversation you've had a million times, well, more an argument. It got worse when he heard of the note.

He was so willing to believe Sirius Black to be a killer, while you believed Sirius could bring himself to the point of ending someone's life, James Potter was more than a human to him. Even with his plea of guilty, you couldn't believe it. James, Lily, and Harry? You would stake your life on it. He was innocent.

It was what you were looking for, an explanation, hopefully that was what the note was for. But unlike your communications with the magical creatures of the forest, Dumbledore was not so willing to give up information when he had it. The old prick-

“I hate when we talk about this.” You huffed in honesty and leaned back on one of the desks of the room. He sighed through his nose and pinched the bridge that connected it to his forehead. “Honey-”

“Ah ah ah! Honey is for marriage.” You mused and he did his best to fight the smile growing on his face. Easily letting you steer the conversation from his own negative thoughts, he hated being upset around you. “That so?”

“It's very so. More so than most so’s.” You hummed and he blinked a few times at you before he couldn't help but smirk. 

“Give me my mother's ring back then.” He mused and held out his hand. You have a faux gasp. 

“Excuse you, sir. I seem to remember your mother telling you this belonged to me.” 

“When we were 18!” He challenged, letting himself fall victim to your antics. Like school children. “And last I checked, your reaction was less then pleasant.”

“We had been dating for a year and I was going to the North Pole in my defense, tart boy.” You scoffed and cringed at the memory. How you practically fall out of your chair when Hope made a comment about her ring. 

“Tart boy?”

“Tart boy.”

“I'll show you a tart boy.” He scoffed and took your cheeks. You giggled like a goofball, grabbing his lapels and trying to pull him closer. He smirked at you and kept his distance.

“Remus-” You huffed and glared at him a bit. His smirk only grew as he reached into your pocket, pulling out the modest gem. You rolled your eyes fondly and held out your hand for him, he slipped the ring back in its rightful place.

“Sorry, call me old fashioned. But I'd like to kiss my fiancé, not my coworker.” He teased and you couldn't help but laugh. 

“You absolute sap.”

“Hard not to be.” He mumbled and leaned in, finally kissing you. Both your eyelids lowered but he held eye contact. So much affection bumbling in your chests, it was too much to look away. Eventually, you gave into your shyness, closing your eyes. He slowly pushed your knees apart and slipped between them, making your face grow hot.

He pulled away at this and you huffed, he smirked at you when you looked back up at him. “Hey, sir, your lips on mine again. It's a marital duty and all that jazz.”

“Thought we had to be married for marital privileges, honey?” 

“Oh don't use anything I say around you against me, I can hardly think.”

He bellowed out a laugh at your mischievous look up at him. Slowly biting your lip as you struggled to keep your confident act up.

“Whatever will I do with you, {L/N}?”

“Well, I have a few ideas.” You hummed and began to fiddle with his tie. He curled an eyebrow and you looked forward, looking up at his hazel eyes with a playful pout. “Kiss me again. I promise, you keep my lips occupied, no more bad behavior.”

“Because you won't be able to talk?” 

“Precisely.”

“What in the world!?” You suddenly heard from the far corner of the room. Your face filled with shock and snapped over to see an empty corner, you could of sworn you heard Ronald just a moment ago.

 Remus quickly moved from between your legs and waved his wand, yanking off the invisibility cloak to reveal an appalled Ron, a delighted Harry, and a flustered Hermione.

“Bloody hell!” Remus boomed and you covered your mouth and looked away. Doing your best not to laugh.

“Yes, mum and dad do kiss when the kids are away.” You cheeked and Remus looked at you like you had just made some grand offense to his ears.

Hermione giggled and Harry’s smile grew ten fold.

Ron, however, seemed very displeased.

“I owe the twins so much money.”

[the-winter-spider]

The Alchemy | Part One

NFL Bucky x reader au

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Angst, fluff,

A/N: I only have one more chapter of Invisible to post so ima get this new series out there. I plan to alternate with this one and Say Don Go! Also im Canadian, ive never watched football in my life before Taylor Swift & Travis Kelce so bare with me, Im a hockey girl 😇🤣

ALSO WOW another ts inspired fic what are the odds lmaoooo

------

The stadium buzzed with energy, every seat packed with fans decked out in the team’s deep blue and silver. Flags waved, chants echoed, and the floodlights bathed the field in an electric glow. The scoreboard flashed 20-24. Fourth quarter. Six seconds left on the clock.

Bucky Barnes stood on the field, his cleats dug into the turf as his breath came in steady bursts. His number 17 jersey clung to him, streaked with sweat and dirt, but his focus was absolute. Across from him, defenders crouched low, their eyes locked on him. Everyone in the stadium knew where the ball was going. The golden boy, the clutch player, the one who could pull miracles out of thin air.

At the line of scrimmage, Steve Rogers—number 18, the quarterback—barked out commands, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “Green 18! Green 18! Set!” His hand hovered under center, waiting for the snap.

Next to Steve, Sam Wilson—number 78, the running back—grinned as he looked to his left. “Hope you’re ready to make me look good, Barnes,” Sam called to Bucky, his voice tinged with a mix of adrenaline and humor.

Bucky smirked, glancing over his shoulder. “Always am, Wilson. Try to keep up.”

The ball snapped.

Time slowed, the roar of the stadium dimming to a dull hum in Bucky’s ears. He exploded off the line of scrimmage, his legs pumping as he darted past the first defender. His route was a perfectly calculated arc, his sharp cut leaving his opponent scrambling in his wake.

Steve dropped back, his eyes scanning the field, calm and composed as chaos erupted around him. The offensive line was holding—barely. Sam sprinted out to the right, dragging a defender with him and creating just enough space for Bucky to hit his mark.

“Buck!” Steve’s shout was clear, even over the thunder of the crowd. The ball left his hands in a perfect spiral, arcing high into the night.

Bucky didn’t slow. He kept his eyes on the ball as it sailed through the air, his body moving on instinct. A defender lunged at him, but he sidestepped, his cleats digging into the turf and propelling him forward. Another defender was closing in, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Bucky leaped, his arms stretching to meet it. For a split second, the stadium seemed to hold its breath. His fingertips brushed the leather, and then the ball was in his hands, secured against his chest as he crashed to the ground in the end zone.

The buzzer sounded.

The crowd erupted into a deafening roar, the stands a blur of jumping fans and waving flags. Bucky pushed himself to his feet, the ball still clutched tightly in his hands. His teammates swarmed him, slapping his back and tugging at his jersey.

“Hell of a catch, Buck!” Steve shouted, pulling Bucky into a quick hug, his grin as wide as the field.

“Couldn’t have done it without that throw,” Bucky replied, though his grin didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Sam jogged over, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Man, you’re gonna make the rest of us look bad if you keep pulling off plays like that.”

“Just doing my job,” Bucky quipped, though his voice carried a hint of weariness.

The cameras swarmed, capturing every second of the celebration. Bucky turned, tossing the ball to an equipment manager as he ran a hand through his damp hair. He offered a practiced smile to the crowd, raising his hand in a quick wave. The adrenaline still pounded through his veins, but underneath it all, he felt…empty. Moments like this used to mean everything. Now, they were just another show.

----

You stood just behind the sidelines, your camera in hand as you captured the final seconds of the game. The stadium’s energy was almost overwhelming, but you kept your focus, snapping shot after shot as the ball spiraled through the air. The lens followed Bucky, capturing the moment his fingertips grazed the ball and the exact second he pulled it to his chest.

Your thumb hovered over the record button as he hit the ground in the end zone, the buzzer blaring through the stadium. The noise was deafening, but you barely noticed, too focused on capturing the raw emotion of the moment—his teammates rushing to him, the grin splitting Steve’s face, Sam throwing his hands in the air as he jogged over.

Through the lens, you could see every detail: the streaks of dirt on Bucky’s jersey, the intensity in his eyes, the way he stood a little apart from the celebration even as he was surrounded by his team. You lowered the camera for a moment, watching as he turned to wave at the crowd, that effortless smile on his face.

There was something surreal about seeing him like this, so different yet so familiar, especially after all these years. The golden boy of the NFL, the star of every highlight reel, and yet…still Bucky. You just wondered what he would think if he knew you were tasked with covering his team for the duration of the season.

-----

The press room buzzed with energy as reporters jostled for position, shoving microphones and cameras toward the front. Bucky sat at the table, effortlessly commanding the room. His jersey clung to him, still damp with sweat, and his dark hair fell messily across his forehead. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his easy smile lighting up the space.

“Bucky, talk us through that final play!” one reporter called out.

Bucky smirked, shaking his head. “It’s not just me. That was all teamwork. The guys up front gave me the space, and Stevie threw a perfect pass, I just had to do my part.”

“Just your part?” another reporter pressed. “That was your second game-winning catch this season and it just started! You’re making it look easy out there.”

“Well,” Bucky replied, flashing a quick grin, “it’s never easy, i’ve just got a great team behind me. We work hard for moments like that.”

More questions came, volleying back and forth. He answered them all with polished charm, his practiced media persona never faltering. But as the questions wore on, his gaze started to wander, skimming over the sea of faces and microphones. That’s when he saw you, his blue eyes did a double take before confusion and shock swam through them.

You were standing off to the side, not pushing to the front like the others. You weren’t yelling over the noise or angling for the best shot. You were just…there. Scribbling something into your notebook, head ducked slightly as if you wanted to disappear into the crowd.

Bucky froze for a fraction of a second, the polished grin faltering for the briefest moment before he caught himself. His heart stuttered in his chest, a wave of recognition crashing over him. He blinked, his brain scrambling to catch up. No way. It couldn’t be.

You were trying to stay out of the fray while still capturing the scene. Your notebook was a familiar weight in your hands, its pages filling with shorthand notes that you’d polish later. It was your way of staying grounded—your way of not staring too long at him.

The boy you’d grown up with. The boy who used to challenge you to races down your block, who teased you mercilessly, who knew all your secrets. Seeing him now, years later, as the NFL’s star receiver, felt surreal. He’d become everything the world expected him to be. And yet, in some strange way, he was still the same.

You ducked your head lower, scribbling furiously to avoid the wave of memories threatening to crash over you. Focus. Professional. Objective. That was your mantra when you’d taken this assignment. You hadn’t even known it would be his team until you arrived. Now, all you wanted was to finish your notes and leave to compose yourself fully before he could notice you.

Bucky’s gaze lingered on you, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the game he’d just played. He said your name softly, testing it on his lips. It felt foreign and familiar all at once. You didn’t react—too far away, too focused on your notes.

“Hey, Bucky!” another reporter called out. “What’s your mindset going into the rest of the season?”

He barely heard the question. His focus was entirely on you now, watching as you slipped your notebook into your bag and adjusted the strap over your shoulder. You were leaving.

“Uh, sorry,” he mumbled to the reporter, not bothering to look at them. “I need to…” He trailed off, standing abruptly.

The room went silent for a moment, the reporters exchanging confused glances. “Bucky, are you—?”

“Yeah, uh, excuse me,” he muttered, already moving. He left the table, ignoring the murmurs that followed as the cameras swung to track his movements.

His heart stuttered.

“Y/N?” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the din. He blinked, half-convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. He tried again, louder this time. “Y/N?”

You didn’t look up.

----

The late summer air clung to your skin, thick and still, like it was trying to hold you in this moment forever. The roof beneath you was rough and familiar, each crack in the shingles a memory. Nights like this always felt infinite—just you and Bucky under the stars, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight, that comforting rhythm was broken.

You sat side by side, the glow of the streetlights catching in Bucky’s messy hair. He leaned back on his elbows, that cocky grin you knew so well plastered across his face. “So,” he said, breaking the silence, “you wanna go to prom with me next year? You know, as friends or whatever.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, but it sounded hollow even to you. “Prom’s not for another year, Bucky. Don’t tell me you’re turning into a planner now.”

“What can I say?” He shrugged, the grin widening, his confidence practically radiating. “I like to lock down the good ones early.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a light shove, but your hand lingered on his arm for just a second longer than it should have. He felt it. He always felt it.

“Alright,” he said, his grin fading as he sat up straighter, his piercing blue eyes narrowing in concern. “What’s going on? You’ve been weird all night.”

Your fingers twisted together in your lap, your gaze dropping to the shingles. The words felt too heavy to say, but they burned in your chest. You couldn’t keep them in any longer.

“I’m moving.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. It stretched between you like the whole world had opened up, and all you could do was stare into the void. When you finally looked at him, his expression was blank, unreadable. That cocky smile you’d always known so well—it was just gone.

“You’re lying,” he said, his voice low, almost like a challenge.

You shook your head, your throat tightening. “I wish I was.”

His brows furrowed, the disbelief quickly turning into something sharper. “Why?” he asked, leaning closer. “You don’t have to go. You’re almost eighteen—just stay.”

“Bucky—”

“No, listen to me,” he cut you off, his words coming fast now, his tone filled with something you rarely heard from him: fear. “You could stay here. My ma wouldn’t care. Hell, she’d love it. You could move into the basement. You practically live at my house anyway. No one would even notice. You don’t have to go.”

The desperation in his voice broke something in you. You had known it would hurt, but seeing him like this—Bucky, who was always so strong, so steady—was unbearable.

“I can’t stay,” you said softly, the words barely more than a whisper. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Why not?” His voice cracked as he sat up fully, his hands curling into fists against the roof. “Am I not enough for you to stay?” He knew he was being selfish but he was so blind sided he couldn't help it.

The question hit you like a punch to the chest. Your breath caught, and you had to blink hard to keep your vision from blurring. “Fuck, Bucky,” you whispered. “Of course, you’re enough. You’re my best friend. You’re everything. But my mom…” Your voice broke, and you had to take a deep breath before continuing. “She’s finally leaving him. Bucky, we’re finally getting out.”

His jaw clenched, and his chest rose and fell unevenly as he processed your words. His hands gripped the edge of the roof like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. “Your mom…” he started, his voice trailing off. Of course, he was happy for her. He knew what it had taken for her to finally leave that asshole. He’d seen the bruises you never talked about, the way your voice would falter when you mentioned home. Of course, he understood.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less. She was taking you away from him, and he couldn’t stand it. "What about school? We have one more year left."

"They have schools everywhere Buck..." Your voice was soft and quiet.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The night stretched on, heavy and endless. You thought he might fight you on it again, throw out another plan, another reason for you to stay. But instead, he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“Well,” he said, his voice sharp and hollow, “I guess this is it then.”

“Bucky, don’t do this,” you pleaded, the words rushing out before you could stop them. “Please.”

He stood up slowly, brushing off his hands like he was trying to shake off the weight of your words. His expression was unreadable now, his eyes cold and distant in a way you’d never seen before.

“It was nice while it lasted,” he said, his voice clipped and emotionless. He paused at the edge of the roof, looking back at you one last time. “Hey, take care of yourself, alright?”

And then he climbed down the ladder, disappearing into the shadows below.

You didn’t call after him—you couldn’t. You just sat there on the roof, staring at the place where he’d been, your heart breaking under the weight of his absence. For the first time, the stars felt impossibly far away.

That was the last time you ever talked to Bucky Barnes.

----

You were halfway down the hallway, your footsteps echoing softly in the empty space, when you heard him.

“Y/N!”

You froze, halfway down the hallway. The voice was unmistakable now—stronger, sharper, but undeniably his. Slowly, you turned, and there he was, jogging toward you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher. His broad shoulders filled the space, but it was his eyes—wide and almost boyish—that sent your heart racing.

“Is this really you?” he asked, stopping just a few feet away. His chest rose and fell as if he’d just run the length of the field. His gaze swept over you, disbelief and something like relief flickering across his face.

You laughed nervously, a sound that came out more like a breathless exhale. “I didn’t think you’d recognize me.”

Bucky’s lips parted in a huff of incredulous laughter. “Are you kidding? I could find you in any room.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Before you could respond, he closed the distance, wrapping you in a hug so tight it stole the breath from your lungs. For a moment, the world fell away—the noise, the cameras, the years. It was just Bucky, holding you like he was afraid you’d disappear. It was like you were kids again, sitting on rooftops and talking about everything under the stars. Holding you in a way where you finally felt safe like nothing or no one could hurt you because you knew these arm’s wouldn’t.

“Holy shit,” he muttered into your hair. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still on your shoulders. “I haven’t seen you in years. What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you—I’m just…wow.”

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m here to cover the team for the season.” You held up your press badge, a sheepish grin tugging at your lips. “Didn’t realize I’d be covering you.”

Bucky barked a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fate, huh? Guess it wasn’t done with us yet.”

You both stood there for a moment, the hallway around you seeming to blur. His thumb brushed against your arm absently, like he was reassuring himself you were real. Finally, he stepped back, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’ve got about a thousand questions,” he said, tilting his head. “But I guess we’ve got the whole season to catch up, right?”

“Right,” you replied, the warmth in his eyes making it impossible to think straight. “The whole season.”

[rendy-a]

Omg the courting fics with Malleus and Sebek were really cute! Could you make something like that with the Octatrio?

I had every intention of writing for all 3 members of Octavinelle but the Azul piece ended up being so long that I thought I’d just post that. 

You’d been avoiding Azul for days now and you knew that, sooner or later, your luck would run out on that front.  Why were you avoiding him?  Not even you were sure; you just knew that he was looking for you.  In your limited experience with the suave dorm leader of Octavinelle, you’d come to learn that the more Azul wanted to speak with you, the riskier the deal would be.  When you turned the corner and saw Azul waiting for you at the top of the stairs, you knew your luck had run out.  This hallway was the only way to reach your alchemy class and you were running far too late to wait him out.

You grimaced as Azul gives you a confident smirk, both of you knowing he’d had you trapped.  Finally, you sigh, “Five minutes, Ashengrotto.  I’ll give you five minutes.”  His mask of confidence waivers and you sense the relief behind the façade.  “That will be more than enough to start with.  Thank you for your consideration, Prefect.”  Then he clears his throat nervously before beginning to move.  He rolls his hands around each other while alternating leg shakes.  You can hear him quietly counting to himself.  After a few moments, he is finished and looks at you expectantly.

“Ah?” you let out a questioning sound.  He covers his embarrassment with a cough and explains, “It was a dance.”  You know your eyes are open wide and you suspect your mouth is hanging open, but you still manage to stammer, “I…I see?”  You did not see.  After a few more moments of silence, Azul clears his throat again and wishes you a pleasant class before sliding past you and down the staircase.  What was that all about?

The next time you encountered Azul, it was coming back from flight class.  He seemed as startled as you at the meeting.  With the memory of your last meeting still fresh in your mind, you thought you’d try to just quickly excuse yourself.  “Ah, I’ll just be passing on your left, ok?”  Before you could pass him though he interrupts, “Prefect, if I may, another moment of your time?”  You cringe a little, “Oh, s.sure?  I guess.  What…what’s up?”  He visibly braces himself before he starts moving.  This time it was mostly arms moving at certain times and angles.  It almost felt familiar and after a moment, you had it.  “Is this that dance from Magicam?”  Cater had shown you a video of the viral dance moves that were sweeping Magicam currently and you were fairly certain this was an interpretation of that. 

He finishes by striking a pose that seems perfectly fit for a photo.  You clap politely and ask, “Are you practicing for your Magicam account?  Going to have the whole lounge staff join you or something.”  He frowns slightly, “No Prefect, that was not my intention.”  Then he turns his face to the side, and you notice a red creeping up on the tips of his ears, “This is more of a personal performance goal.”  You hold up your hand, gesturing toward him, “Well that was pretty good.  I think you are on your way to that goal.”  He looks very relieved at your reply, “Is..is that so?”  Then he gathers his composure and bows his head a little, “Well, I thank you for your notice.”  You wait a moment to see if he has more to say, but he continues to just look at you expectantly.  Finally, you fidget a little and remind him, “Well, I should be going.  Class and all.”  You wave and turn to jog away and back to your next class.

It was a hard day of studying when you wandered over to Mostro Lounge to have a small dessert as a reward for your long session.  Looking up from your tea and cake, you see Azul across the room speaking to the students staffing the bar.  The confident business Azul strikes you in comparison to the awkward Azul you’ve been interacting with these past few days.  He gestures with his hands to finish off whatever direction he was giving, and you suddenly decide to approach him and say hello.  You slide up behind him and place a hand on his back, “Hey Azul, nice to see you again.”  He turns to gaze at you coldly, muttering, “Prefect?”  Then his eyes widen and he sputters, “Pre..Prefect!  What are you doing here?” 

Instead of responding, you decide to give him a moment to gather his thoughts and composure.  He quickly does and dons his usual suave persona, “I mean, why how wonderful to have you dine with us this evening, Prefect.  You should have told me you were coming, and I’d have been certain to save you a table by the window.”  You smile at the quick change in tone, “Oh that is fine, I just came over to see you, Azul.”  He flushes a touch along his checks, “M..me?”  You lean in and whisper, “Yes, you’ve really tried hard lately to catch my attention, so I thought I’d reward you by giving it to you.” 

He looks shocked by your statement for a moment before leaning in to whisper carefully, “You’ve noticed then?”  He looks around at the number of interested eyes on your conversation, “Ah, this is not the best place for conversation, Prefect, won’t you follow me to somewhere more suitable for this conversation?”  You nod and turn to head to his private office, but he lays a hand on your arm quickly, “No, not in there.  I have a better place.”  So, you allow yourself to be escorted from the lounge and down into the corridors of Octavinelle.  “Sometimes, it’s nice to get away from work,” he comments softly. 

You smile gently, thinking about how you’ve just discovered a new side to the serious Azul you know.  You’ve been doing that more often lately; you think as you remember the strange dances you’ve seen him attempting.  As if thinking a similar thought, Azul asks, “I hope I haven’t been too distracting for you lately, Prefect.”  You smile, “I wouldn’t say distracting is the word.  It was more like memorable.”  He gasps and squeezes your arm a touch tighter, “Is..is that so…” before muttering under his breath, “so it is working after all…”   You ponder out loud, “Although you seem to be not quite used to dancing.  Is it because you aren’t used to being on land?”  Azul halts, causing you to also need to stop.  He seems lost in thought as he mulls over your question.  You continue to quietly observe him, and he finally notices your gaze, “On second thought, Prefect,” he begins hesitantly, “I think I have something special to show you.” 

He pivots on his heel and pulls you toward a different hallway leading deeper into the dorm.  You hesitate but seeing his nervous smile, give in and follow along.  He takes you past the public lounges and study rooms and toward a corridor that smelt strongly of salt and sea.  You figured this must lead to the very edges of the dorm and the water beyond.  As if to confirm your thoughts, Azul pulls you into a locker room and shows you where you can change into borrowed swimwear.  You wonder for a moment how they can possibly have something that fits you and that just happens to be sitting around but, after pulling the garment on, it conforms to fit perfectly and you realize the answer is, of course, magic. 

You pull a towel across your shoulders and head into the adjoining pool room.  The near end of the pool was shallow enough to step into, but the far end disappears into the gloom.  From the rhythmic way the water moved, it was clear that the pool connected to the sea outside.  You hadn’t realized Octavinelle had such an exit into the sea, but you supposed considering the location, it made sense.  “There are potions in the cabinet to your left,” comes a voice from the deep end of the pool.  You suppose Azul must be above water for you to hear his voice but any bit of him you could glimpse was hidden by the darkness of the deep sea beyond.  You pull a familiar potion from the cabinet.  It seemed not so long ago you’d used such a potion to visit Atlantica Museum to satisfy the bet you’d made with Azul.  “Are you sure its not too late to swim all the way outside?  Maybe we could have a nice night just swimming in here,” you say as you swirl the potion around in the flask, looking at it meditatively.  “We’ll be fine.  There are lights here and there once you get past the dorm.  I know a good spot for an evening swim.  I am Dorm Leader of Octavinelle, after all.”  You supposed that was true, so you uncorked the bottle and swallowed the potion down.

You head hesitantly into the pool and hear a voice when you are below the waves, “This way Prefect, don’t be frightened.”  You follow the pool down as the tile floor gives way to cement and then finally just the seafloor.  You reach the opening at the far side of the pool and poke your head out cautiously.  As promised, there were lights here and there once you exited the dorm.  The light they gave off didn’t appear to travel as far as you’d suspect underwater.  You look about, unsure of where to go when you hear Azul call again from beyond the nearest light.  You swim in that direction and the sound of his voice guides you away from the dorm and to a nearby reef. 

You gaze in interest at the colorful corals when you hear Azul’s voice right at your ear, “You should hold onto one.  Humans are buoyant and have difficulties staying on the seafloor.”  You take his advice and grab hold of a nearby coral to help keep you stead as you float weightlessly on the seafloor.  You turn to thank him and are caught speechless at the sight.  You’d seen Azul in his merform only once before, during his overblot.  Now, without the imminent danger of rampant magical warfare, you had the chance to really take him in.  The blackness of his tentacles crept up to his chest and turned to cover his arms.  You thought offhandedly he looked like he was dressed in a sleek suit with no shirt beneath it.  That wasn’t what was most eye-catching though, in the darkness of the sea, the underside of each tentacle had a bioluminescent glow that highlighted each sucker and edge. 

“Stay there and watch,” Azul asked gently.  You could only nod mutely as the swaying of his glowing limbs mesmerized you.  Then the movement of his tentacles increased until you realized it was no longer motion from the sea but a purposeful cadence from Azul himself.  You watched them move in captivated silence until you realized you were seeing another dance from him, a dance from under the sea.  You had no idea how long it lasted, you sat holding onto the coral and gazing at his display in quiet awe until finally you realized the gentle swaying of his luminous limbs was merely the motion of the waves once again.  You look up and meet his curious eyes, “Do you approve?” he asks simply. 

You tilt your head and smile up at him, “What was that?  It was so beautiful.  I’ve never seen such a thing.”  He reaches out a hand before lowering it slowly.  Then, with a few flicks of his tentacles, he manages to settle himself on the seafloor next to you.  “It was a dance, an octomer dance.”  You carefully reach out and set one tentative finger on the nearest tentacle, feeling the strange texture of it under your digit, “I wouldn’t have taken you for such a good dancer.  Not after those attempts on land.”  He laughs shallowly in a self-mocking way, “Grandmother insisted I learn the traditional dances.  ‘Don’t underestimate the importance of body language,’ she always said.”  Your smile turns a bit coy as you reply, “Well, I’m not sure what your body was trying to say there but I was definitely listening.”  He turns a hopeful look to you, “Does that mean you’d like to stay a bit longer and chat?”  Finally, you felt like Azul had made you a deal that captured your full attention. 

[diorcities]

with you (teaser)

spiderverse chronicles. haechan x reader, mark x reader genre fluff, action, mature content content spiderman au, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, selective mutism, sign language, smut (not in the teaser) more tba teaser wc 1.5k full fic est. 20k

an: since i'm making progress on the story (shocking) i'll share a little teaser. the past few days i've consumed a lot of spiderman content, it's not funny anymore. it was a sign of the times. i'm so excited to write this. happy reading ♡

description: after a catastrophic scientific explosion, chaos is unleashed in new york. a deaf girl must face the city that she once knew now submerged in a mayhem, pairing with a daily bugle intern to try to solve the mystery when one of the many affected with extraordinary abilities seems to have a duplicity between good and evil.

he can sense you're there.

just moments ago he had swept the area, now, he looks intently at the boxes loaded into the helicopter.

“planning on stealing the moon tonight?” he's growing bored. “you guys aren't elusive at all, you should practice a little at that.”

the ambiguity of his own reaction puzzles him. there was no hurry in his movements, nor the usual tension. instead, there was a deliberate pause, and this unbearable boredom.

he's quick to deflect a couple of bullets; it comes out spontaneously now. all his senses are enriched. everything vibrates. everything sings. he's sneaky instead of a fighter. and he's also fond to make jokes at inopportune times.

“isn't this labor exploitation?” he inquires. “i hope you get paid overtime,” he says again when in response, a dozen men point their guns at him. he reacts shooting his hands upwards.

“easy, i'm your friendly neighbor.” a man turns to him. the big fish. “oh, my bad, i mistook you for some lookalike with a bunch of small yellow people.” he also doesn't miss the opportunity to make an emphasis on his size.

wilson kingpin snorts, annoyed. “after months, i'd think you'd stop acting like a kid.”

“i am a kid.” he chuckles, removing the mask.

there was no point in hiding his identity when the old crow knew who he was from the very beginning, though it also made him a prospect for his tasteless jokes.

he takes a look at the containers when the man turns his back at him and shout instructions. “nano-technology prototypes...” his voice comes out in an interrogatory tone, sniffing through the large box.

the man in charge sees him snooping around when he speaks. “are you interested?”

“they wouldn't hurt,” he replies, distracted; something stirs inside him when you move closer.

“take a few, see if you put it to good use.” he sneers and he mimics him, nonchalantly.

he's pretty quick and elusive. skills, he guesses, his best traits; but even though, he might need some; he's been doing alchemy lately, so he grabs two and when the man looks away, grabs a few more. he can put good use to that kind of technology. “any other tasks you need me to do?”

he bristles when the man smiles, agreeing; he's been waiting for the moment. doing silly tasks, dirty work. finally he was getting closer to get what he wants. “yes. why don't you take care of that little reporter mouse?”

fisk goes back to his job as if he's bored, and his lips tighten into a grimace that he already knows, making him take care of you.

“was this what you wanted, to steal technology?” you ask to the wind. the men hardly pay attention to you, but he does.

he must acknowledge that you have guts even though fisk is giving you a window because you don't pose a threat. not because of his size, but because of his influence.

“what's in the boxes?”

“as if i were going to tell you.” he mocks, hiding behind the mask. “why don't you cover tonight's weather instead, family of murderers?” he sees you freeze. “why don't you leave these matters to us and you take care of yours? seems like you're in deep shit,” he says, taking one step closer.

when you realize it, he's in front of you and you have nowhere to run. yet your feet recede to the edge. “mmm? don't test your luck and stay out of it.”

he gives you recognition that you don't look even a little intimidated. “who are you?”

his smile almost reach his eyes, “as if i were going to tell you,” he repeats, morbid.

fisk growls behind you, and something dark spreads on his gut, “get done with it, bug.”

he does what he says. first, he steals it from you in one move. and you're not quick to protest when his hands half-push you and your feet stumble. doing silly tasks, dirty work. one more thing and it will end.

nevertheless, getting rid of you is hard for him.

your hands try to hold on but he pulls away, so you fall into nothing.

like a bullet, he watches you fall, waiting. and when a blue boost barely flashes around you, he moves away from the edge. afterward, you just fall into new york.

[soobnny]

the alchemy — athlete!chan x reader ; established relationship (0.9k words)

where’s the trophy, he just comes running over to me

olympic inspired fic

Chan told stories.

His hands, rough with hard work, held strength and sacrifices. Years of training manifested in his calloused palms, in the occasional cuts and bruises.

They were proof of his passion, his dreams, his ambitions.

It’s almost funny how that entire world he had crafted with tears and sweat and sacrifices all boils down to a single moment, to right now, under the watchful eyes of thousands. Maybe even millions.

On the other side stood a realm, a place he can reap the efforts he’d planted step-by-step. He can faintly see victory from where he’s standing.

The crowd is a blur of color and noise. There are hands with flags waving, faces of anticipation, voices that brewed with support. Chan can feel the weight of the entire stadium pressing against his chest.

There is drumming, and beating, and shouting, and cheers.

And then static.

He breathes in, the space falling away in consequence. There is only the wall of focus he’s just built for himself—only the track, the runway, the pole, the leap.

The bar was set higher than it had been on his first attempt. A podium finish was in his reach with the pole in his hands and the runway in front of him if he would just make this jump.

A sharp breath.

The faintest rustle of the uniform he’s wearing.

And then the low hum of static.

There is nothing but the vault.

His pulse is thudding in his ears, heartbeat echoing a steady beat of anticipation. The sound of his shoes hitting the ground seemed louder than it was earlier.

There was only one thing to do now.

Chan’s gaze falls straight to the landing zone. He zeroes in on the marks, the mat awaiting his landing, the exact moment the pole would bend, how his body should fly above the vault.

That entire world, the callouses in his hands, the roughness of hard work, the countless hours of repetition were all about to be reduced to that one line on the horizon.

His grip tightens on the pole, familiar yet too rigid for comfort. And then he’s at the starting line.

At a last effort of any fragment of comfort, he searches for you where you stand. You were there, always have been, with eyes holding softness, and hope, and comfort. Something no one else could ever replicate.

A flicker of a smile curves at his lips, and then, as if his body has always known the exact timing, his legs start to move. One step, two steps. One after the other. His speed picks up, his hands instinctively tighten around the pole as it digs into the ground beneath him, and then he flies.

Chan flies, and the crowd falls silent in anticipation.

His entire world spins in such a short amount of time, even stills as his body—taught with the thrill of possibility—twists. There is muscle memory in the way he soars in the air, the same air heavy with the taste of victory that wasn’t his yet.

Gravity takes over.

Everything else falls behind him. Flashbacks of late night practices, and crying, and thinking he’s not good enough. Moments when he’d almost given up. Days when he’d felt like his efforts were going nowhere.

You’d always been there to help him back up.

You. You. You.

Thud.

His body hits the mats, and the sound echoes for half a second.

Just like that, it was done. He had done it.

His breath comes back in quick bursts, heart hammering in his chest.

When the mat propels his body back up, he lands on his feet. And before he can really process the victory he’d been working upon, he’s already turning. Sprinting.

The only direction to go now was the stands, the only direction left was to you.

You. You. You.

His legs carried him faster, and faster, and the world moved in a similar slow motion as he was when he was flying. The cheering, the flashing lights of cameras, the explosiveness of the stadium, everything was abandoned in the background.

Chan barrels into you, arms pulling you into the tightest embrace he could muster. For a moment, nothing else mattered—the gold medal, the record, nothing. Except for the fact that he had made it, and you were there with him to see it happen.

“Channie” is the only word you can muster, voice thick as you loop your arms around his neck.

Apparently, it’s also the only word he needs to pull himself back, hands resting on your shoulders as if needing to anchor himself to the moment. His eyes look into yours for a split second.

His eyes told stories too. It was always his most honest and obvious tell. And right now, they were looking at you with so much love.

Yours, with pride.

“Baby—“

Without warning, his lips find yours.

You feel everything in one kiss. The adrenaline, the years of work, his entire world. Chan leans into you, breathing you in, feeling the surge of everything he had accomplished into someone that felt like home.

Fuck, you make him happier than any Olympic gold medal ever could.

Somewhere in the distance, the announcer’s voice rings out his name as champion, but all he can ever see and hear right now is you. It was done. He’d made the vault, now all he needed to do was hold onto you.

There’s plenty of time for the rest later, plenty of time for celebrations, for the podium, for the journalists.

Right now, it was only ever you and the bright smile on your face, and the same smile he’s mirroring on his own.

And right now, in this moment, Chan doesn’t have to jump to know what it feels like to fly.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

of the stars, of the stars

cw. f!reader, pre-canon, pre-5.3, elder!reader, masters of the night-wind!reader, hurt and comfort, established relationship

pairing. citlali x reader

synopsis. you've known citlali for many moons and many stars. in over 200 years of knowing each other, this is probably the angriest you've been at her. (or, you and your dear friend become grandparents.)

notes. you can roll your neck and stomp your feet but this black girl last wrote a genshin fic in april. but this has been in my thoughts since playing the the 5.1 archon quest. yes, op fans, that was a heart of gold reference. yes, fmab fans, that was a bradley reference. divider by @/cafekitsune

"A gentle smile, a dignified smile, your adorable smile," you rasp, on the nth loop of your pacing in your front yard. How many times have you sung this song in the past 20 minutes? You stopped counting after 5 but still you had continued singing the only song that was able to stall the boy's tears. "Silver hearts and gold hearts, I'll give them all to you. Alchemy, Alchema. Hold the gold star-"

"That's not a song from the Masters."

With your song halted, you quickly adjust to bouncing the child in your arms. Yet your efforts were all for not and as the eruption of tears started once again, you can't stop yourself from groaning in frustration.

Recently fed, unsoiled diaper, no immediate signs for why he was unable to settle to settle down.

"Baby," you beg the boy with every fiber of your being to settle down for his nap. "We've been through this for the past hour! I can't keep singing, I have work to do!"

Balking at your sharp look, Citlali looks at you apologetically. "Sorry," she murmurs. In your chest, a flicker of upset stirs but it is not directed as the child in your arms. In Citlali's hands there is a basket filled to the brim with various goods ー loose cloth, seasonings, and what seems to be some sort of milk source among other things.

The goods do little to sway your mood.

You hold each other's gaze for one, two, three seconds before you shake your head with a huff, turning your gaze back on the brown-skinned boy in your arms. There's a pause, a shuffle before a pair of thin arms come into your line of sight. "Let me," it's practically a plea. "You look like you need a break."

A baby wailing in your ears, your eyes burning every time you blink. It's with your uncountable sigh of the afternoon that you relent. "Do what you will," you wave a hand uncaringly in the direction of your door steps. "Lord of the Night knows I'm exhausting my options."

Tenderly, the wolf-eared child is passed from your arms to Citlali's and she lowers herself even more cautiously as she sits where you've indicated.

A few whimpers, a hiccup and a tentative press into her chest and the child settles. Color you surprised, you silently release a breath and slide a hand across your face, fingers settling against your chin. Citlali looks more surprised than you, with her raised eyebrows and wide pupils. It's almost instinctive how the purple-haired woman looks up at you with a smile, it falters less than a second later.

Suddenly it's Citlali's gaze turning onto the baby boy who is finding the realm of dreams more interesting.

"Some of us have the gift," you grumble, turning to prod at what your oldest companion delivered. "Apparently I'm not one of them."

There's another pause. Only the occasional call of nearby iktomisaurs offer that much assistance.

You tilt and turn a jar of what you presume to be a jar of spices from Sumeru. You've enjoyed adding them to your cooking since you were 51 after meeting a traveling scholar from Sumeru studying Natlan's Ley Lines, or lack thereof. Nasrin, she was called. You met by coincidence at the Chuwen Fair and a friendship had been sparked.

How long it's been since then?

Citlali had been subjected to your experiments at making Sumeran cuisine once you'd returned home.

You set down the spice jar in exchange for a sachet that smells distinctively of dried windwheel asters and embercore flowers. An interesting combination but one you've been fond of the past few years after encountering an interesting character from Mondstadt, a hardy man named Varka. Your appreciation of Mondstadt's flora had been planted by him. You wonder how he's doing now.

Not everything in here is for the baby, you want to say. You brush your thumb against the purple-black of the fabric. "It's from the Children," you mutter instead and there's a sound of surprise. "The song," you clarify, returning the sachet from where you found it and you turn back around with your arms crossed. "My mother from the Children of Echoes used to sing it to me when I was a little girl. You're lucky, boy," you tell the sleeping child. "Growing up across two tribes, I've got plenty of stories for you and a variety of tunes."

Citlali's own smile returns albeit hesitantly, "I see." She hums a brief tune you're unable to discern. "I remember her visits. She came with your grandfather once, he scared me."

You can't help a chuckle, "everyone was scared of him until they talked to him." Even your mother from the Night-Winds long, long ago. You remember how you and Citlali had laughed at her recollection of meeting him the first time. How she apparently insisted he didn't like her while Mom insisted in return that it was just his face.

Mom's argument won.

It was just his face.

"I never thought he had a scary face until I got older," you admit, shaking your head in amusement. "Then I looked back on it and thought, 'maybe I can see what my friends were talking about'."

You share a laugh once again for a short moment before silence falls between you both once again. Smiles fade and it feels as cool as the Cryo Vision on Citlali's hip.

This is good, you want to think.

Everything worked out, you want to think.

Move past this.

Your fingers pinch your forehead. You've never been good at keeping your mouth shut, however. This is true even now as you finally, finally ask, "what on Teyvat were you thinking?"

You've known Citlali for many moons and many stars. She had been your first friend when you moved from your childhood home after it had been discovered you had natural talents as Spiritspeaker.

Was the one you endured years of rigorous training with.

Many of your friends and family are dead and gone. You've seen all of Natlan change in the years you've lived. Citlali has been one of the few things in your life that is as constant as the long-lived traditions of your tribe. Something that won't change for who knows how many centuries you may continue living.

She's your partner.

Wife.

The one you always return to.

("How can a hag whose barely home give me love advice?"

"Citlali is the woman I chose; there's nothing more that needs to be said between us. That's why we're the longest-lived couple in Natlan, brat.")

In over 200 years of knowing each other, this is probably the angriest you've been at her.

"You weren't here," she says softly, shrinking into herself.

"Did I have to be," you shoot back, just short of yelling. When the child stirs, your mouth clamps shut and you inhale deeply trying to calm yourself.

There are no lies in her words; you hadn't been there when this child with a fragmented soul had been discovered. Nor had you been there when Chief Masoro concocted their plan to sacrifice said child and decided to ask the opinions of the eldest members of the tribe.

You'd been off visiting the Children, visiting descendants of family long since past. You'd been off gallivanting with the Scions, exchanging cups with newly minted companions. You'd been off viewing the changes grand and miniscule that had accumulated over the decades in this country in which you were born. You'd been everywhere but home.

Sure as the leaves weave in whichever direction the wind blows, you go back and forth between holing up in your abode and traveling the land.

Uhuru.

Freedom.

As sure as the moon will rise you have oft lived up to your Ancient Name. You are no stranger to the unexpected, going with the flow much like a wayfinder navigates the tides. Perhaps that why you were gifted a Hydro Vision than what you expected would be Anemo.

Yet never in your wildest dreams did you imagine coming home to a failed ritual to make an infant a vessel for lost souls to return to the Night Kingdom. What's worse is that Citlali had done nothing to stop it in your absence. "I didn't need to be here to tell you that was a terrible, horrific idea."

"I never said 'yes'," you know that tone. The one where she falters, unable to say what comes next and in spite of your fury, you are able to wait for what she says next. "But I never said 'no' either. I am… ashamed. And relieved. When it failed, I was so relieved," her shoulders shake and you don't need to see Citlali's face to know she is crying. "There's nothing I can do to take it back, but I'm still so relieved."

She's always been easy to cry whether angry or stressed. Crybaby Citlali, you'd occasionally tease her. That would get a minor hex tossed your way every time.

Even when you're upset with her, you can't stop yourself from lowering yourself to sit beside her. As if punishing herself, she doesn't move so you make the movement for her ー wrapping your arm around pale shoulders gingerly to tuck her into yourself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sniffs and you rest your head against pastel purple hair.

She weeps and weeps until the afternoon azure sky starts turning carmine and vermillion. Until there's nothing left for her to cry you sit with Citlali through it all.

"Sorry for not coming home sooner," you give her a gentle squeeze, not wanting to disturb the infant in her arms.

"I'm sorry for not telling Mosoro to wait until you were here to consult the both of us."

"I'm sorry for traveling so much."

"I'm sorry for-"

You stop the apology fest before Citlali can say anything else, "alright, I think we've apologized enough."

The laughter between you both is quiet but light, so is the tension that has heavily looming over you for the past week. "Fine," Citlali cedes. "You win. This time."

You snort wordlessly.

"And for Archon's sake," it's your wife's turn to huff, looking much more like her usual self. Blue eyes glare at you in amusement. "We need to name him already. You can't keep calling him 'Baby', what if he starts reacting to it?"

"Well why don't you come up with his name, O Wise One?"

Citlali is quick to snip that she will be naming the boy in your care. "Ororon," she says after a good five minutes have past. "Ororon is a powerful name. And he likes it, don't you, Ororon?"

He isn't even awake to hear it. "Yeah," you agree regardless. "He likes it. Granny Itztli picked out a good one for you." It's a big name for one so small, but you have no doubts the boy will one day grow into it. "We've really skipped some steps," the air is warm, unsurprising for the land of Pyro. But it's touch more hopeful than usual, like the atmosphere of the nation after another battle with the Abyss. Just as your people rebuild after every attack, the two of you can rebuild from this. "Normally people have kids before they start having grandchildren. The arcane arts never prepared us for this."

Citlali stifles a yawn, "no, no it hasn't."

[pluck-heartstrings]

*waves* Hello! For your new sorcery au, what kind of magic does Eclipse practice? Also, how did he manage to become the princess’s betrothed? (Social connections, high status, threat,…?)

Hope your day’s going well!

I’ve been waiting for a question about how magic works in this au! I won’t go into super detail (since you’ll read about it in the fic) but I’ll give you a rundown:

All magic is sourced from celestials. Celestials are every star in the sky (including the sun and moon, don’t worry about it). In order to gain magic outside of alchemy, you need to form a covenant with a celestial and agree to a contract. So long as both parties agree, a magic user can use the celestial as a battery (don’t worry it doesn’t hurt them) and then have a master/servant relationship.

As for how he became the Princess’s betrothed…let’s say it started out as a threat and grew from there.

[radiantmists]

For @charles-rowland-week Day 3: Bag of Tricks Backpack!

I have a lot of thoughts about the backpack (I love a bag of holding) so here's one scene from what will hopefully be a whole fic someday, set at some point before Charles has quite figured the bag out.

***

"I do wish you wouldn't do that in the office," Edwin says from his seat at the desk. He's been reading the same book for more than a day now, some thick alchemy tome that's apparently fascinating enough to hold his interest despite being written using Linear B, which even Edwin finds challenging.

Charles, setting the sparkly rock he's just pulled out of his backpack next to the pair of sunglasses and ornately painted saltshaker that had preceded it, grins up at him.

"You don't want me to bring the bag on cases, now you don't want me to mess with it in the office," he says. "Where am I meant to practice, on the roof?"

"I didn't want you to bring it on cases because I worried you would put case-relevant materials in by accident and not be able to retrieve them in time," Edwin replies primly. "Now that that ship has rather dramatically sailed, I don't want you to use it here because I worry that you will retrieve certain case-relevant materials."

"I told you, I'm pretty sure it ate the demon bats," Charles says. "I mean, digested and all. We're never gonna see them again."

He's only mostly joking about that. Nothing he did should have given the bag the ability to digest magical creatures, but he's got the strong feeling that it has a sense of humor, and if it can develop one of those on it's own, a stomach isn't much of a stretch, is it?

"For all your insistence on that point, you're very willing to put your arm inside of it," Edwin says, not sounding particularly concerned. "Do you not worry that it will gain a taste for ghost, next?"

"Mate," Charles gasps theatrically, "our backpack would never."

"That abomination is entirely yours, as far as I'm concerned."

This is somewhat fair, considering that the bag probably wouldn't have the audacity to withhold Edwin's books if he'd been the one to enchant it instead of letting Charles do it. However, the comment runs counter to Charles' current strategy: sweet-talking the bag into compliance.

"Don't worry," Charles tells it in a conciliatory tone, "he loves you really."

He glances up at Edwin, expecting a comment about misguided anthropomorphizing or something, but no, he's back to the book.

With a sigh, Charles reaches into the backpack again, focusing on his boomerang. It had been pretty cool, enchanted to return right to your hands when you threw it, even after it hit something. He and Edwin had spent weeks poking at the spell to figure out how to reproduce it for Charles' bat.

But at some point after that, it had occurred to Charles to wonder what would happen if he threw it into the backpack, and, well. Here he was a year later, groping around in the void.

(Chucking random magical objects in was probably not making the backpack's behavior more predictable, but Charles never managed to think about things like that until after he'd followed through on the impulse.)

He'd realized (again, shortly after doing it) that the problem with enchanting a bag to be infinite inside was that it now contained infinite amounts of empty space. It's taken him years just to consistently find something when he reaches in. Now he just has to work out how to find what he's actually looking for.

After a few seconds of grasping blindly, his fingers brush against something. It's small, flat and thin like a piece of paper, but a little sturdier-- maybe one of the cards he'd put in as a test a few months back? He'd been pretty sure the whole deck would stay together, but maybe if something else he put in had bumped it…

As far as he can tell by touch, there's nothing else 'nearby' in the void, so he pulls the object out and finds that it's not a card but a bookmark, one of the celluloid ones that Edwin prefers. It's in the shape of a train car, with a little advert for the rail company on the back; Charles thinks he remembers Edwin saying he used to collect these, as a child.

"Think it's trying to tell you something, mate," Charles says, holding it up for Edwin to see.

"Charles, the bag doesn't have ears," Edwin says, but he does finally look away from the book. He cocks his head as he recognizes the bookmark, expression going thoughtful. "If anything, I would say this is an indication that it's responding to your desires."

"Feel like it would be a bit easier to use if it were doing that," Charles grumbles, and Edwin's mouth quirks a bit.

"I suppose I will take the hint, wherever it originates," he says, rising and coming around the desk to retrieve the bookmark. "I admit I could use a change of scenery."

"Brills," says Charles, climbing to his feet. "Wanna take the bag to the roof and see what happens if I turn it inside out?"

"Absolutely not."

[tibbycaps]

cub to me is like skips from regular show. like i think if theres ever a Situation and no one knows what to do cub would be like 'yep ive seen this before' and pull out an elaborate machine or magic spell or something to fix it and no one questions how he knows about it he just does. and he would casually explain how to like banish a demon or practice alchemy or something in the same manner one might explain how to brew coffee. in fics where a lot of hermits are present that is the ideal role for cub to play i think

[pomefioredove]

hello! if you’re still taking event requests, can i request "Maybe making out for a few minutes would help us figure things out." with vil? please and thank you 🥰

you guys are going to be the death of me 😭😭😭 /positive

summary: "maybe making out for a few minutes would help us figure things out" type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, suggestive og my god author's note: I don't usually get embarrassed writing requests but this one got to me. I couldn't write anything beyond where it ended

It's almost cute.

Vil is used to having people fawn over him, but there's something quite special about it being you.

He's never seen someone with such an obvious crush.

The brave, responsible, practically indestructible Ramshackle prefect, reduced to wide-eyed stares and trembles at his hand.

No. Not almost cute. Very, very cute.

He just can't help himself, sometimes.

"You've got it wrong again," he says, one hand on the table beside your workbook, the other on the back of your chair.

"Too acidic. You'll never be able to do the real thing if you can't get the formula right."

You can't even make eye contact with him. "Sorry,"

"It's nothing to be sorry over," he smirks. "I won't punish you. Unless you think it would help."

No response. He chuckles.

"Very well. Let's take a different approach; what exactly are you having trouble with?"

You look over your shoulder and meet his eyes for the first time in hours. "Focusing,"

"Focusing," Vil repeats.

He stands and sits at the edge of the table, crossing his legs and looking down at you. You stare back, wide-eyed, your lips pressed together.

It's a pretty view. And he likes having you under him, anyhow.

"And why do you think you're having trouble focusing?"

It's not often he leaves someone completely speechless, and, admittedly, Vil is enjoying it a little too much.

Alchemy can wait.

"Am I making you nervous?" he asks, leaning forward.

"Do I make you nervous?"

And then you're back to avoiding his eyes. You stare, unblinking, at the carpet, and he's tempted to ask what the floor has that he doesn't.

Vil looks back at your page of failed attempts and tsks.

"You'll never get anywhere at this rate... Maybe making out for a few minutes would help us figure things out,"

For a moment, it looks like you're about to say something. Laugh it off, perhaps.

But you wait to see what he does.

He likes that about you. So well-behaved.

Vil's fingertips slide under your chin and tilt your head up. He wants you to look at him. He makes a mental note to work on your confidence some other time...

But, for now:

"Is that a yes?"

[kitsuga]

Hold My Hand. {Albedo x Reader}

Description:  

A fic in which Albedo is amused by reader’s attempt to confess over time; makes them work just to hold his hand. 

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Tags: fluff, confessions, reader is not mc/lumine/aether!, not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, albedo x reader, genshin impact x reader, genshin impact, albedo

Word Count: 810

A/N: Written on: April 3, 2021 

Albedo is a bit hard to capture, I think. I think that’s why I keep pushing myself to write him LKSJDFH hes very cute though and uhg I wish I had him, beautiful alchemist boy 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Teal eyes kept peeking at the person beside him. As the two of them walked along the frozen mountain pass, (Y/n) kept bumping into him, mumbling an apology and swerving back on track only to do it again shortly after. At first, Albedo was worried something had been wrong—maybe the cold had gotten to them, or they’ve gotten sick; the more he watched them, however, the more he realized this was not the case. 

The flush of their face, the closeness of their body, and the shyness in the way their eyes could not meet his told him all that he needed to know, but he would keep this information to himself and see just how long it would take them to do something about it themselves. 

He kept his little experiment quiet. He would say nothing, nor would he let his body language suggest he knew what was going on. It would be a lovely little experiment to see just how (Y/n) expressed their love, or rather, attempted to express it. Maybe he’d express his back as a reward. 

Days have gone by, and Albedo has to keep himself from laughing at their frustrations. If they bumped against him, he apologized and moved. If they started a romantic suggestion, he’d play dumb or simply pretend not to hear. If he caught them longingly looking towards him, he’d ask if there were something behind him. At times, he’d be nice and give them a little prompting--a chance for them to come clean—by asking them if anything was wrong. Time and time again, their face would heat up and they’d quickly dismiss the idea. Albedo can’t help the small smile he keeps to himself when he turns around. 

Weeks later, he’d find them still trying, practically gluing themselves to his side. They’d keep quiet, but would keep eye contact with him longer, and leave their fingertips lingering along his hand or arm just a tad bit longer than was normally acceptable of “just a friend” or an assistant. Albedo would offer them the gentlest smile he could to help push them forward a bit more, but they’d still find themselves at a loss for words.  

He found the very idea of them being shy interesting. As someone who normally spoke their mind and were adventurous to an extent, watching them flip a switch as they get close in proximity to him was definitely a fun little show. He’d certainly tease them about it once they confessed, but for now, he’d replay all of the little instances together in his mind whenever he got the chance. 

Albedo figured the day was finally upon the two of them to finish their little dance. As he leaned over the alchemy table, vials in hand, he watched (Y/n) come up beside him without a word. He could feel their eyes on him for quite a while, not that it deterred him from the task at hand, but it was entertaining to feel the gaze get closer and closer. He smiled as (Y/n) reached for the hand closest to them, attempting to lace their fingers between his, causing him to chuckle to himself. 

“Is this your attempt at finally confessing? Holding my hand?” 

“You knew this entire time!” 

“Maybe.” 

He laughed gently as they seemed dumbfounded—maybe a bit betrayed, as well—and huffed out of embarrassment. Albedo turned towards them, taking in the enjoyment he got from watching them go through several different emotions rapidly, unsure on what they should do now and trying to figure out if they had been rejected. To ease their fear, he gestured for them to come closer, and trapped them between himself and the alchemy table once they were close enough. Smiling innocently at them as they grew embarrassed, he went back to his task at hand, ignoring the heat they gave off and the fact he could practically hear their heartbeat leap from their throat. 

“Your attempt was very cute, but my hands are a little busy right now.” 

[sephifrog]

reverse isekai sephiroth pretty please I love your work ehehehe 🌸🥰

Hey Anon! You are so sweet I’m glad you enjoy them! I’m gonna throw in self-aware au as well i hope you don’t mind if you do lmk and I'll redo them <3 i hope this is to your liking!

Earth's gravity is definitely heavier than Midgar so I feel he took a little to get used to it, but anything to get to you he had studied all types of magic, alchemy, and meteria to get to your world.

 when you were in the middle of his boss fight and he lunged at the camera you didn’t really think anything of it until the power surged and a 6’7 man was flying towards you.

He’s shocked it worked but isn’t complaining.

You don’t know what the fuck is going on but who are you to question it (you think it’s a dream for a few days jfobsoihf).

He’s a quick study so even though his body feels heavy he’s picking up earth (your) mannerisms.

He doesn’t like being alone for the first few weeks and almost got arrested for having Masamune on him in public (he refused to leave it at your apartment).

he‘s happy for the first time in a long time being with you in your world.

you read enough reverse isakai fics to settle quickly.

He likes the black turtle necks you brought him and enjoys learning how to cook with earth ingredients (“Why is the Chocobo so small you eat baby ones?” “...seph-” you buy him a children's animal book lmaooo).

The first time he went to the shops with you a few final fantasy fans came up and he started to tense up so you had to shoo them away saying he was shy and practicing for the con in a few months.

“What’s a con?-” “Don’t even worry about it” he worries about it and looks it up when you guys get home.

You guys settle into a rhythm and he reads up on final fantasy lore .

“Hironobu Sakaguchi/Square Enix I just wanna talk” becomes a meme in the house.

SPEAKING OF MEMES

He doesn’t get a lot of them but he loves cat memes (the cat salad one is his fav and he always sends it to you).

It takes him a while to fully settle but when he does he is truly happy.

If he needs to get a job he would probably get into security.

Or even cooking I feel he would be an amazing chef -let him trot around a cafe too.

just him in an apron.

He keeps his hair long and loves you looking up styles to do on him.

Feel he's a shit driver but he doesn’t trust Uber so either you have to drive or walk everywhere.

Enjoys watching you play games while he relaxes and reads about the world (he plays when you're not home so he doesn’t embarrass himself- chuckles at the stunned look on your face when he beats you in a round of your favorite game)

[parkcivconfess]

Buzz buzz ! Got some potions HCs this time (This could apply to both PKCiv and PVP Civ but i'm using PVP Civ as my frame of reference since its the one i know more about, also brainworms) Potions in PVP Civilization are very customizable and some iron and diamond swords brew ones to take the edge off. Because lets be honest, they would absolutely use potions recreationally down in the lower layers. PVP is very stressful to not only the body, but the brain! Specific recreational ones i have written down: Nausea - VERY powerful in the wrong hands, often diluted for recreational usage and its effects are similar to alcohol. Also has the simple recipe of Awkward Potion > Wheat. When undiluted can be used to knock someone clean out cold, especially if they don't have a tolerance (Cough cough Evbo) Swiftness - Gets you extremely wired. Also needs to be diluted if you just want it for the adderall-esque effects it grants. Slow Fall - Calms you down, you literally feel light as a feather. Still does what it does in vanilla but also goes to your head. Very good for those that are anxious. Non recreational bonuses: Resistance - Its ibuprofen! Higher the potency the better it does for pain. Usually requested by those that have chronic pain from past injuries. Add a golden apple to your potion of healing to get this one. Withering - Extremely corrosive substance. Evil potion made by evil users and also, extremely complicated and its ingredients are rare (Where the hell does one get wither roses in this place? Someone found out..) Instant Health - Heals superficial damage very efficiently but struggles to heal below the skin, usually used for very light injuries like small cuts or bruises. Higher the potency the better it performs as always, but cannot heal long term damage done by Withering. Regeneration - A slower alternative to Instant Health that can heal more for the user such as broken bones or muscular damage. Higher the potency the quicker it heals injuries. Struggles to heal damage done by Withering, but it CAN be done. Might take more than a few potions though.. Slowness and Weakness - They do as they are described, and both make moving your arms and legs very hard and very painful depending on the potency. When paired together, they're great for incapacitation without knocking someone fully out! Alot of potion ingredients are found around the layers, most of them are foragable and some can be purchased at the iron and diamond layers respectively. Prev ask i sent: LOVE your warden evbo hc btw it sounds very cool. Would love a fic with that premise fr Till I send an ask again! - 🐝

TYYYY i love my version of evbo even if it's not the majority . that fat boy is MINE

MY PKCIV LORE BELOW!!!

lore 𓄧 building

herbalism and alchemy was most common on the fighter level, and practice's died out when the fighter layer was closed off due to the parkour villain and all his evil shenanigans. see'watt keeps those practices alive, also has many journal's and books detailing all kinds of things from the fighter level because he didn't want anyone to forget where he came from.

when he died, evbo was the one who inherited said book's / journal's because see'watt had no family left to pass it on, and nobody wanted to touch anything that was his but him.

there had to be over 100 book's, thoughtfully handcrafted with so much love and care, even having drawings of flowers he didn't know existed, music, custom's, marriage practices, everything you could think of was in there.

he revived see'watt shortly after when he found an unfinished book that detailed see'watts family recipes, one of which see'watt had actually fed him when he was getting the disc's. he didn't want him to starve to death and not get all of the disc's. it was the best thing he ever ate. yeah he cried about it. yes see'watt had to comfort him.

POTIONS

withering

* sucks the life out of the user / victim, usually connected to a specific location said person's life force is going to for a higher power or ulterior motive. uses the crushed up bones of wither skeletons and wither flowers, given its name.

can be used to cleanse one of poison's if done correctly, similar to charcoal or a parasite cleanse. often used as a medicinal remedy in the 5th layer — (chain boots) for extracting venom and ridding one's body of disease. it's very risky, though, and only experienced herbalists should try it!! (like see'watt but i digress).

haste

* gives user speed and strength (much like swiftness or resistance potions), but at the cost of their body deteriorating overtime. see'watt often used these to get ahead in parkour battles while still trying to earn the evil champions trust because he's quite weak himself and needed an upper hand to win. he's still recovering from that.

makes user physically unable to sleep until effects wear off. how do you think see'watt made all of those book's? he was bored and wanted to preserve his culture and couldn't go to bed.

MEDICINE

care / remedies

* seaweed was used as bandage's or to soothe burns, like aloe vera. it was also used as a form of twine when dried, often used to reinforce the outside of cast's.

glowberries we're used to treat stomach bugs due to the properties that make glowberries, well, glow, also have lot's of antibodies in them! often used in skincare for dry skin or as natural decoration. sometimes put inside lantern's or made into oil for oil lamps.

spore blossom petals we're used to make saturation potions last longer, and a traditional form of plant tallow (← made from beef / chicken fat, herbs are added for taste / smell, used in cooking and as soap).