#its just amusing to me how we literally grew up in the same house and have ended up making such different fashion choices | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

annemagus · 4 years ago

Text

natural love potion; h.p.

Pairing: harry potter x fem!Gryffindor!reader Timeline: HBP / 6th year Warning(s): cussing, mentions of dying and blood, submission, reader pining Word Count: 5k

A/N: Hey there! This is my first ever post. I would love to hear your thoughts!

Harry and Y/N are friends. Just friends. Much like Harry and Hermione, there is nothing out of it that is going on between them. Not until that day in potions.

—

“Are you done with my potion?“

“You mean, will Professor Slughorn call you by your name? Then yes, Wallenby.“

It was the first week of another year at Hogwarts. New faces, new prefects and even new professors are introduced, as usual. Professor Slughorn is the newest addition to the faculty and to have a good first impression with the students, he's given the 6th years Amortentia, the love potion, as their first Potions homework.

They were supposed to put it in their selected food or drink and it had to be unnoticeable. Why would the Potions Teacher assign this kind of homework to the students? No one knows. But this certainly gave him a good first impression to a large number of students.

“Blimey Harry, we've been rotten at Potions ever since. Now look at you, it's as if you've taken private lessons with Snape the whole summer. You’re the bloody Potions Master in our year now!“

The two Gryffindors are making their way out of their dorm room towards the Common Room with Harry holding a small basket of cookies to bring it in the dungeons where the potions classroom is at. Y/N is patiently waiting for them near the Portrait as several students greet her along the way.

"G'morning."

“Where’s ‘Mione?“ Ron exclaimed without even acknowledging the girl’s presence.

“Uhm, shouldn't you know that, Mr Prefect?"

The male prefect then realized the time and his supposed agenda to escort first years to the Great Hall. Harry scolded him of how much he and others would kill to be in his position and yet he’s never given it any importance.

“Godric, have mercy on me. Hermione’s gonna kill me!” the redhead exclaimed after getting a playful slap behind his head from the Chosen One before rushing away from the two.

“Much worse than that, she’s gonna make him expelled,“ she jokes with a mouthful of cookie from the small basket Harry was holding. "Mhm, you have no idea how badly I've been craving cookies since last week! This is good, Har. Where’d ya buy it?“

Harry, before realizing what happens, freezes. He was too busy lecturing his best friend that he didn't notice a hand sneaking into his potion, the cookie. His hand slowly snakes its way to the contents of the basket that has supposedly four cookies but now has only three. “Y/N!“

"What?" she chuckles dreamily.

"We need to get you to the Hospital Wing."

“What for? You put poison in it, didn't you?“ Y/N continues to chuckle dreamily.

Harry stares at his friend as if she was some peculiar experiment. “How are you feeling, Y/N?“

“I feel like . . .“ she sighs dramatically as she gazes far away, mesmerized. The effects are plainly obvious. “I feel like falling.“

“Falling?“ Harry's stomach twisted. This is what makes Potions classes bothersome, the uncertainty of knowing whether the potion you brew is right or wrong. You can only know it if you’re a professional or by testing the potion done, which in Harry’s case, Y/N would do for him.

"I'm falling in love, Harry. I'm falling in love with you."

And boy was he really the Potions Master.

The raven-haired boy's cheeks got warm the second those words escaped his friend's lips. The two are only friends and have never acted more than that. Seeing this new side of Y/N for Harry is too foreign for him.

Sure, Harry has seen her date two boys from different houses, but being the recipient of her romantic antics has never crossed his path. His last romantical relationship, if you can call it that, was last year with the senior Ravenclaw Cho Chang. Even that didn't go well. He went on a single date with her just to make her believe he's in love with both Hermione and Y/N. Ever since then, he never thought about committing to any romantic relationship.

"Harry . . ." Y/N's hand reached out for his arm, grazing down slowly towards his hand with too much delicacy. Their hands are now intertwined. The both of them have never reached this close proximity, having learned now that one of his best friend's palms are soft but slightly calloused in the fingertips from playing muggle instruments and Harry fears that when Ron finds out about this act, he will tease them nonstop which isn't fair for Y/N. ". . . I know this may sound all too sudden, but, I have loved you ever since."

He didn't respond. He tries to block all of this sudden affection out of his mind knowing these are all artificial.

"Don't you love me back?"

"Of course I do. You're my best frie-"

If his cheeks were warm, now, his ears as well are on fire. Y/N has thrown herself to the flustered boy, locking his neck and face in her arms, squealing in happiness like a kid. Holding hands is a new thing for The Boy Who Lived but hugging him as if to let the world know he's someone's is another thing.

Very few people have ever hugged him in all the history of his 16 years of existence, knowing the story of his parents and the lack thereof. His godfather, Mrs Weasley and Hermione are the only ones — as far as he knows — written in a tiny piece of parchment of the list of people who have hugged him. Yet none of them could compare to this hug as those mentioned acted parental towards him.

Students are now starting to pass them out of the Common Room towards the Great Hall. One of those shouted, "get a room!" They're still standing just beside the Portrait Hole where Ron has left them both to deal with his own romance.

"Uhm, Y/N, why don't we go get ourselves some breakfast first, yes?"

"Yes! Let's tell 'Mione and Ron that we're finally together!"

—

Breakfast was agonizingly slow, to Harry's opinion. Y/N can't stop giggling beside him and feeding him like an infant earning them attention from the others.

"Oi, Potter! Didn't know that you two are . . ."" Seamus makes a kissing face earning a few cackles and sniggers from their other friends at the table.

The boy just ignored them with an eye roll, amusing the two friends in front of him.

"Leave them be, Harry. Besides, when was the time Y/N acted on you this way, huh?" They all diverted their gaze to the dazed girl. Eyebrows knitted in concentration as she feeds him but at the same time doing her best to get as close to Harry as the universe could possibly give her the opportunity to. They've never seen her this in love and affectionate. And the two thought that Harry just deserves it even just for a while. "Never, right? You better make it worthwhile."

"Thanks, Ron. Really helpful." He answered with his famous eye-roll.

"Always here for you, mate "

"I just don't get why we couldn't tell Professor Slughorn immediately. I mean, I'm sure he has something for Y/N. Or Madam Pomfrey-"

"Yeah? In which I'm sure is also your easiest ticket to detention."

The boy grunts some incoherent words of profanities under his breath. Not only was he getting embarrassed by the fact that one of his close friends is acting like his girlfriend but dragging Y/N along with his catastrophic life is just too unfair on her side. She didn't ask for this. Plus, detention in the second week of a new school year doesn't sound good.

The Brightest Witch reminded them not to take Potions lightly. It may sound like not the most helpful subject in a wizarding war, but can get you expelled once meddled with students. In short, what happened to Y/N is very illegal. You should not use or test your Potions project with another student. Plus, Filch will go nuts if he gets the news that a student gave another student a love potion.

“Well, at least, now we know that your Potion worked well.”

"Come on, we're going to be late for DADA."

On their way towards Snape's classroom — a fact Harry still can't accept — Y/N's fingers are interlaced with Harry's as they walk. She's given him her bag as that's what boyfriend and girlfriends do. In the classroom, Y/N didn't sit in her usual spot but literally kicked Ron out of his chair to sit beside Harry, the boy just mouths a sorry.

Her usual focus from the class was now inclined to Harry himself alone the whole class. Out of all their major subjects, Harry is known to have the Defence Against the Dark Arts class on top of it all. Y/N knows it, having been a member of Dumbledore's Army. Everybody knows it. But with Snape being the teacher and Y/N constantly caressing his left cheek every time Snape's back faces them, the said subject is somehow kicked out of its place on top.

"Y/N, do you mind?" He tried but obviously failed to ask her to stop in the nicest way he can utter. "I mean, it'll be really hard for us to pass DADA, and eventually NEWTs, if we're both distracted." His voice is hoarse and soft, one way or another. Afraid to hurt the girl beside him and cause a scene. Letting his former Potions Professor know his mischief doing is the least of his priorities for the day. Merlin, at least, let this day finish without anyone knowing.

"Harry, my love, it's not my fault your eyes are distracting. They're the most beautiful green not even the most beautiful forest in the world could compare to."

Once again, his cheeks and ears are on fire for the 37th time this morning. Most of the reasons are from the nonstop compliments he's receiving from the girl. It didn't take much energy from him to not believe all of it. He grew up with the Dursleys, they didn't fail to engrave in his mind his place and worth.

"Care to share in class what you're chattering about, Mr Potter?" The elder snarled in the middle of his discussion, letters extending out of his tongue as per usual. He finally notices, as always, Harry making another noise across the room.

"Nothing, Professor."

The said Professor narrowed his eyes to the duo. He knows, of course, he knows, he was a bloody Potions Professor ever since he accepted the job offered to him at Hogwarts.

"I'm saying this once and only once," he positioned himself in front of the two, now leaning to the Gryffindor boy to let just the two hear what he'll say. "Fix this, or you will face more vile punishment than getting expelled."

The class was dismissed with 50 points taken from Gryffindor. Harry is used to it, even his other fellow Gryffindors weren't surprised anymore. As a matter of fact, as long as he is breathing, infinite points will be deducted from their house.

As they were heading out of the classroom, Hermione gently peels the zonked out Y/N away from her grasp on the poor boy. "Harry, you can't let the other teachers know about this."

"Well, what do you suggest then?"

The next words that came out of her lips are like caffeine to the sleepy heads of Harry and Ron. They could not believe she could say such things. Even Y/N would have been gobsmacked if she just wasn't in a daze.

"Don't go to classes?" Her tone was laced with uncertainty. But she couldn't think of any other option, she'd rather let them take a day off classes than have Harry nor Y/N expelled.

"Can I come with them?"

—

Harry Potter's Monday was bizarrely different from his usual ones. He has spent the whole day with Y/N trailing behind him like a baby duck. His hand used to be sweaty the whole time with her's but now, it felt more comforting than awkward interlocked with his.

The castle was quiet, with all the students in class, it gave him privacy and away from the prying eyes of malicious gossipers. They couldn’t get inside the Common Room as some 7th years are hanging there knowing they have fewer classes and more time for reviewing for their NEWTs, library; some teachers roam around there, Hagrid’s Hut; knowing Hagrid, as much as they love the guy, couldn’t keep his mouth shut from secrets.

As much as he dreads going to class all the time, it was strange to see the castle this quiet without Ron’s company.

He was throwing pebbles by the lake to pass time as Y/N sat on the ground behind him, making them their Charms essay homework.

The boy studies her features. Y/N wasn’t so bad. Her hair’s tidier than Hermione’s. She was actually beautiful. He would’ve taken her to the Yule Ball when Ravenclaw Cho Chang declined his invitation and if it wasn’t for that Slytherin bloke asking her out instantly - her first ex-boyfriend who Y/N dated a few months back. Her hair tucked in her ear as she focuses on what to write next in her essay. Harry feels bad for making her write his homework but the girl insisted. Guess you’d do anything for the people you love.

He looks back on the lake. Thinking of the people who have loved him did everything they could to protect him, even dying. First, his parents, then Sirius even Jesus, what did he do to deserve this fate. What good will it be if the people he loves are gone?

Two arms wrapped around his chest from behind startled him.

“You’re tense.” Y/N’s hand unwrapped his bloodied hand. He didn’t even notice he was gripping the stone tightly, his scarlet blood staining the object.

“It’s nothing.“ He cranes his neck to stare at the girl on his right shoulder. Her eyes are full of concern and love. Love that he created out of a goddamn potion for a goddamn homework. A love that could never be compared to the love of his parents and Sirius. A goddamn false love. His brows knitted before jumping out of Y/N’s embrace with panic.

“I think we can go inside now.“

The rest of the day consists of Harry, trying to ignore all of Y/N’s pining over him. He tries to remember that all of these are not her fault, there’s nothing to get mad at her about. Running away from her is also impossible as she committed herself to cling to Harry’s arm as if her life depends on it.

Finally, classes are over and dinner is approaching. The two are reunited with Hermione and Ron in a secluded area of a random hallway, as Harry was hoping to get less attention from other students as they got earlier at breakfast.

“How are the love birds?“ Ron teases, seeing their hands locked still.

“Oh, it was majestic, Ron! Harry took me to the Black Lake even though today was a school day. I feel a little rebellious, to be honest.“

“Good hiding spot.“ Hermione commented.

“I’m not going to the Great Hall for dinner. So you two can bring Y/N instead.“

“No! I’m coming with you!“

“Y/N aren’t you tired of my company yet?“

“I could never! I love you.“

Ron snickered pretty loudly in front of them, even Hermione couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Aren't you two just adorable?” the redhead continues to tease.

“Don’t worry Harry, Ron and I will bring you supper instead.“

The day has finally ended and the effects of the Amortentia, as what the favourite book of Harry says, wears off after 24 hours. It was past Y/N’s get up time but fortunately for them, she took her time sleeping exactly until the effects wore off.

She moans with pain as she tries to sit up from her bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"'Mione?"

"It's me."

"I feel like a full construction site is inside my head . . . and I feel awful. Like, waking up on the wrong side of the wrong bed."

"Do you feel anything . . . unusual? Like, something or particularly someone you want to obsess about?"

The girl looks at her strangely and then at the time. "Bloody heck Hermione, aren't we late for breakfast?"

Clearly, Y/N remembers none from the incident.

Meanwhile, at the Great Hall, Harry is tapping his leg out of anxiousness. If his Amortentia was too strong and didn’t ease away, he might as well pack his belongings and leave Hogwarts voluntarily. His precious book from the Half-Blood Prince has mentioned the cure for a love potion but the ingredients are only held by the Potions Teacher. The horrors there will be once he mentions this to a teacher is unimaginable, he’d rather spend the day with a dazed Y/N than get lectures from a teacher.

“Don’t worry about your girlfriend, mate,“ Ron’s words are muffled from a chicken leg in between his teeth from across him. “They’re here.“

Across the Hall, the two girls are striding towards their place.

“Why are you at my seat?”

“Uhhh . . .” stammering, Ron glances at Harry for help. They were normally sitting beside each other but after the incident yesterday, they thought Y/N would love to sit next to the Golden Boy. “I-I don’t know either,“ just sliding to his side to make room for the two.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?“ Harry asks the dishevelled looking girl in front of him. Both Hermione and Ron - who are sitting side by side - are listening to the exchange intently.

“Honestly, I feel bad. Like, subconsciously, I know this day would be so bad,” Y/N sighs depressingly. “Why, are you alright?“

“Yeah,” deep inside the boy, a strong wave of relief passed him. His body was cold from the nerves, but knowing his Amortentia had finally worn off, those nerves were showered off of him with a warm relieving feeling. “Actually, I’ve never been better.”

“Well, at least one of us has woken up on the right side of the bed.“ she chuckles half-heartedly. Harry felt guilty hastily after hearing those words. It’s all your fault dipshit.

As Y/N is back to sitting beside Hermione, she is also back to her normal self. Talking to her alone about their Charms homework that she never remembers making and some other random stuff that the boys could not give a care about. She was back to not paying any attention to the Golden Boy at the front who she absentmindedly know is staring at her.

Morning supper was finished and the quartet is now in Snape’s classroom. Y/N was back to sitting beside the cute Hufflepuff guy she's been crushing on and Harry is back stuck with his blabbering best friend.

As Snape discusses some more non-verbal spells and the techniques, he takes time to stop rounding the class in front of Y/N who was again, back to her normal self, her focus never leaving the Teacher. He stares at her, looking past her eyes and seeing that his student’s consciousness is back before trudging towards Harry and Ron.

“10 points from Gryffindor,” he grunted under his breath, which actually is the first compliment Harry has ever received from the elder man.

Classes ended and dinner came, Harry finds himself staring at the girl in front of him. She was talking to Seamus, one of their good friends, chatting and laughing with him as if he'd said the funniest joke ever told. The food on his plate has long been forgotten.

"Quit staring, you creep."

Harry looks back at his best friend beside him with a mixture of confusion. "Don't tell me you think I wouldn't notice."

What the boy was talking about, he has no idea.

"When will you tell Y/N?" Again, he replied with a look. "About the incident, of course."

Harry wasn't planning on ending his friendship with Y/N because of his carelessness. He could've just sealed the cookies in a jar or box so no one could see it, but no. He had to display it for the world to see. Hermione disagrees with his plan, of course.

The three of them found the perfect time to be alone in the common room, students are still chatting and scampering about their day anywhere but their dorms. So they decided then, to tell Y/N what happened.

"So that's why I felt bad. Isn't that the after-effects of Amortentia?"

Three heads nodded in front of her, studying her features.

"Well, I'm glad it was you, Harry. Could you imagine if it was Ron?" Y/N visibly grimacing at the thought. "But to be honest, it was all my fault. I should've asked you first before eating it. Thank you for being honest with me, Harry."

It wasn’t really what the boy was expecting as a response. He was anticipating more anger or embarrassment from the girl.

Their usual cycle is back. Y/N was completely Y/N Y/L/N again it's as if nothing happened. The four of them never mentioned the incident again and Harry catches himself being disturbed with that. It made him feel some things like shouldn’t Y/N be shy around me? Or shouldn’t Ron tease us still about what happened? Or shouldn’t Hermione lecture us and watch over us more to not repeat the incident again? These thoughts run through his head as every day passes.

He also catches himself getting extra angrier at the Hufflepuff boy, Y/N’s crushing about, every time they have a Quidditch tournament. Especially that time when she barges in the Common Room pretty loudly yelling at everyone that she got a date with the cute Hufflepuff.

“Y/N can you help me find a good present for Mrs Weasley’s birthday on our next Hogsmeade trip?” He tried, one Friday morning, to get in between them.

“Of course, Harry! But, can we do it after my date?“

“Right . . . you have a date.” Sounding a tad bit more disappointed than he really is.

“But,” Y/N responded with the syllable dragging along “I could tell him to go on the next visit instead and spend the day with my best friend?”

“Oh no, I don’t want you to cancel your date because of me.”

“Harry, I could even cancel my Charms class, Godric knows how much I love that class but, that’s beside the point. What I’m saying is that I’m here for you. Also, we’ve barely hung out anymore ever since you’ve been the, what does Ron call it, ah, the Potions master!”

“Not you too!” he playfully grunted all too loudly earning a laugh from the girl.

"Seriously, I would love to come with you.”

He never thought he'd say this but he misses Y/N. His Y/N, who cannot keep her hands to herself but Harry’s.

And before he could stop himself from getting deeper into his thoughts, he was left astounded. To his knowledge, all feelings he has for his best friend are only platonic but here he is, couldn't stop himself from the thoughts of Y/N. The way she used to have her focus engraved to the boy alone and him alone. It gives him so much angst every time Y/N hasn't given him enough attention for the day.

If this stupid Amortentia incident leads him into any feelings he'd be in deep shit.

Because Harry should not be bothered to get distracted. Quidditch season is starting, he's got new people relying upon his captainship. Besides Y/N has her eyes on someone else and he cannot risk losing their friendship knowing his feelings aren't being reciprocated.

Well there it is, he's already in deep shit.

So when their first game arrived playing against Slytherin, he is rather surprised to see Ron winning them a high rank.

He knows he deserved the glory that's why as the captain of the team, he let them have the post quidditch game party in their common room. The parties were usually lead by the twins, but knowing they're already gone, he didn't know that his fellow housemates apprehended their festivities.

"Weasley! Weasley!"

They watch as Ron finally gets recognition for his own efforts alone. Y/N was nowhere to be found, probably with her new boyfriend, and Hermione was shattered when Lavender Brown smothered Ron with kisses.

The two are in a random staircase trying to comfort one another. He doesn't know who needs more comforting, Hermione or him. Knowing he already lost someone who's never his also shattered his heart.

"How does it feel, Harry? When you see Y/N with another guy?"

To say that he's dumbfounded was an understatement. He couldn't be that careless with his so-called feelings now, is he?

"I know. I see the way you look at her. You two are my best friend."

He dreaded this conversation happening. The Golden Boy has never intended on developing feelings toward his friend. Unlike Hermione and Ron, the two have been having this romantical tension ever since their first year. His feelings toward Y/N is purely conjured by an incident they never dared to speak about. The boy believes that these stupid feelings of him will only break their friendship and Harry's not risking that.

"Why don't you try something?" Hermione is always the one they go to whenever they need help and whenever they're clueless about the next step. But this, this advice of hers is definitely one Harry's scared to listen to. "Hufflepuff boy is still not making any moves yet. You know, you're valid to think about yourself too. You've always thought about the others, you always prioritize us before yourself. You deserve to live too, Harry."

So Harry did listen.

In the Great Hall, he confided himself to sit beside Y/N all the time. Hermione doesn't mind the changes in their seating arrangement as she gets to sit with Ron anyway, so candidly speaking, it is a win-win situation for everybody.

He starts small, playfully feeding her (the way she used to), talking and listening to her talk about life in general. When they were walking towards their class, he would always offer to carry her bag, in which he never really waits for her response. Intermittently inviting her to do homework by the lake alone together. And every time they have Hogsmeade visits, he would buy her sweets at Honeydukes.

And Y/N notices. It didn't really take her long before she sees. She has convinced Hermione one night to tell her of her doings that day she was under Amortentia. Harry's new behaviour towards her has perfectly mirrored the story Hermione has told her.

Little did Harry know, the feelings eventually have been mutuals.

So when the Golden Boy was informed of this Christmas Party Professor Slughorn has assembled, he didn't hesitate to ask Y/N in an instant, too afraid that Yule Ball night might happen again. He was, for once, too grateful to be part of the Slug Club as Hufflepuff Boy was not part of it. Now that just minimizes his crush problem.

He has seen her in a ball gown back in their fourth year for their Yule Ball. But he never got the chance to be the one standing beside her throughout the night but now, tonight, he feels like the luckiest man.

Standing on the top of the stairway from the girls' dorm room was his best friend he never had feelings before until this year. She wasn't wearing the grandest of gown there is but this simple dress enhanced her features. She was walking down the stairs with a smile that gave a huge impact on how she looks. She was literally glowing.

"Hi."

"Y/N," he breathed, completely in awe of what feelings do to people.

He always sees Y/N every day, talks to her and laughs with her. She sees her perfectly like what normal best friends do. But after developing feelings for her, his mind is persuaded that she was the most beautiful person that walked on the planet.

Harry is infatuated. He felt as if he was under some spell. Is this how Y/N sees him, all those times she was under the love potion?

But Harry was sure, a hundred per cent, that this is not artificial feelings. He really likes her.

So after a very successful Christmas date, with Hermione being their third wheel, the two were back from being hip to hip. Harry was glad his Y/N is back. He's been wearing the pride of not having to use a love potion to get her back beside him. Because this time, Harry did not create an artificial love to make the girl he likes, like him back. This time, he did it right. He just needed to wait for the right time and place to ask her.

Christmas has passed and Harry's time is also running fast. Of course, his special assignment with Dumbledore has never left his mind. He would do the subtle talks with Professor Slughorn here and there. He felt as if he's running out of ideas to get what he needed and to make things worse, the Potions Master is already growing annoyed with him.

"Still no luck with Slughorn, then, I take it?"

"Luck . . . That's it. All I need's a bit of luck."

That evening, Harry was away the whole time. He missed dinner but Y/N waited on him in the common room. She knows that the Felix Felicis potion has no limits. Whatever the user's deepest desires, it will help give it to them. Y/N knows that at this very moment, Harry succeeded. She makes sure that there will be someone waiting on him to celebrate it with him.

Harry came back from the Headmaster's office bearing a report about Slughorn's memory with Tom Riddle. There, in the Gryffindor Common Room, he sees her sleeping in one of the tables far back. It was not hard to see her, with the time obviously past bedtime, she was all alone.

With the liquid luck still pumping in his veins, he rushed to her. Kneeling in front of her, the Golden Boy then gently wakes the girl up.

"Harry?"

"Y/N . . . I think I'm falling"

"Falling? What falling? Are you experiencing vertigo right now? Anxiety?"

"Worse than those."

And Y/N, moving on from her sleeping state, was now fully aware of where the conversation was going. She holds his inviting hand. "What is it, Harry?"

"Love . . . I'm falling in love."

Y/N smiles at how adorable the boy is looking right now. His hair is ever so dishevelled and his lips as red as cherry. He was the most oblivious boy she knows. Has only dated one yet here he is, kneeling in front of her. Confessing.

She knows that Felix is helping him with some luck because knowing the sober Harry, he would never be bold enough to say such things. Little did Harry know, he need not some luck as she was all too blessed to have him in her life. Because to Y/N's honest opinion, in this room, she was the luckiest.

"I'm falling in love with you, Y/N."

—

(Shamefully) tagging these amazing ppl: @harryjamespotterxreader @harrypotterxx @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

653 notes · View notes

whimsicallyreading · 3 years ago

Text

You Don’t Even Go Here

Day Two for Rowaelin Month

A college AU

Aelin grins mischievously as she walks up the stairs of the men's dorm at Terresan University. The teal-blue waffle iron clutched under her arm.

Aedion didn't really need it. It had been on the fifty-percent-off rack at the supermarket, and he'd simply thrown it in the cart for good measure. Yet, when Aelin saw the box for it laying the hall, she'd seen opportunity.

It had hit her harder than she'd thought. Aedion leaving. They'd been raised like siblings but grew up something closer to best friends. It wasn't fair that he was nearly three years older and ready to leave when she wasn't prepared for him to go.

Aelin had cried the whole car ride home. Then when they finally got back to the house, she'd called him right away. He could hear how teary she was and happily obliged her call. Narrating his actions as he went about setting up his dorm room. He teased her about missing him, but she could tell that he missed her too.

So, armed with an excuse to visit him, Aelin made the hour-long drive to visit her cousin.

Aelin was halfway up the stairs but not paying too much attention to her surroundings. She was too busy repeating Aedion's room number over in her head because no matter how many times she checked her phone, it just wouldn't stick in her head. Maybe if she'd focused a little more on the things happening around her, she wouldn't have crashed into a half-naked man.

A solid and calloused hand darts out and grips her shoulder before she can go tumbling down the stairs. Its twin desperately clutching the towel wrapped around his waist.

Aelin looks up apologetically, and her jaw nearly falls to the floor. His white hair was still damp from the shower and swooped over the top of his head, and his biceps were too large for Aelin to wrap both hands around. An intricate tattoo coils elegantly from a cheekbone and down the length of his body.

He was a man indeed. Nothing like Chaol or Dorian or any of her junior friends. This was a new breed of man. The apex kind. Aelin is pretty sure she looks like a deer in the headlights, and she's too busy ogling him to understand the words he'd been repeating to her.

"Are you okay?" His eyebrows are furrowed as if he's afraid he'd literally struck her stupid. Aelin felt that wasn't far from the truth.

"Yes, sorry," she apologizes as she steps back, suddenly very aware of how in his personal space she was. "I wasn't paying attention. You just caught me by surprise."

Aelin was definitely panicking. Where was her swagger when she needed it most? Why would it choose now to abandon her?

By some miracle, he doesn't seem off-put by her awkwardness. In fact, a smile curls the edges of his lips, revealing a set of dimples that made her heart stumble.

Gods he had dimples.

"No, I ran into you. It's my fault. My name is Rowan.”

He holds out a hand, and Aelin shakes it clumsily. "I'm Aelin."

"Aelin." She loves the way her name rolls off his tongue. "I haven't seen you around before. Are you a freshman?"

Oh no. Aelin's eyes widen, but she recovers swiftly and smooths her features out. Rowan thinks she's a student. Not some crazy high schooler too emotionally dependent on her cousin.

"I'm actually a junior," Aelin laughs at his perplexed expression. "I don't go here, though. I'm just stopping by to drop off some things my cousin forgot."

White lies. What was a white lie worth? Aelin likely wouldn't ever see him again, and is it so wrong for a girl to enjoy some harmless attention? If Aelin spent more time thinking about it, she probably wouldn't like the answers she'd come up with, but that was neither here nor there.

"Is that a waffle maker?" Rowan's green eyes glint with amusement.

"My cousin loves to eat. What year are you?" Aelin crosses her fingers that he's the same age as Aedion and not a senior or something. Her cousin would murder her if he found out she flirted with a man five years older.

"Don't we all? I'm a sophomore, a bit younger than you, I suppose." Rowan drags a hand through his hair. "Listen, I know you came to see your cousin, but maybe I could get your number, and we could get a cup of coffee before you head out?"

Was this really happening? Aelin inwardly squealed with excitement. Lysandra would die when she recounted this story later. "Sure."

Just as she pulled her phone from her pocket, an all too familiar voice materialized behind her. "Aelin?"

Aedion smiles as he lays eyes on his beloved cousin. He takes a couple steps down the stairs, and that grin quickly fades as he sees the naked man.

Oops, she'd forgotten that detail.

"Rowan?" Aedion's eyes harden as they lock on Rowan. "Why the hell are you ogling my cousin with no clothes on?"

"You know him?" Aelin swears under her breath. She cannot believe her luck.

Aedion laughs coldly as he sizes up Rowan, "He's my roommate, but he's about to be a corpse. Why are you perving on my seventeen-year-old cousin?"

Rowan's looks between the bewildered. "You said you were a junior?"

Aedion laughs harshly as Aelin blushes. "I am...just in highschool. Not college. I told you I didn't go here."

"I didn't realize I was rooming with a pedophile," Aedion grabs Aelin and pulls her to his chest. "Was he bothering you?"

"Pedophile?" Rowan's dimples have disappeared, and he looks at Aedion disturbed. "I'm only nineteen!"

Aelin shoves away from Aedion's boorish grip. "The only one bothering me is you."

Rowan's cheeks are flushed red as the full impact of the situation they were found in dawns on him. Damn it if Aelin didn't find his blush endearing. He is a solid chunk of muscle. How is everything he does so cute?

"Look, I just got out of the shower, and I bumped into Aelin. It was an accident. She was just on her way to give you your waffle maker-"

"You brought my waffle maker?" Aedion cuts Rowan off, eyeing the box under her arm.

That's when Aelin sees it. The twinkle of mischief in his eye and the forced concern. Aedion was playing her. He obviously knew Rowan wasn't a creep and saw the perfect opportunity to cause chaos. Aelin scowls at him, and that spark grows brighter. It's moments like this she wonders why she ever missed her cousin in the first place.

Aedion tugs the box out of her grasp and smiles. "Wow. This is perfect timing. Vaughn and Fen were just talking about making breakfast for dinner." He looks at Aelin and forces a frown. "If I'd known you were coming, I would have invited you, but it would kind of be rude to bring a guest now."

"What?" Aelin sputters. She drove all this way, and he was really going to ditch her? It was embarrassing, but tears prickled at the edges of her eyes. He was an ass, but she obviously came because she missed him, and he didn't even care? She really thought they were closer than that.

"Yeah. Sorry, Lin." Aedion points at Rowan, who was just standing to the side, thoroughly uncomfortable. Yet, despite the awkwardness, he hadn't left. "Hey, you owe me one for creeping on my little cousin. Earn my trust back and see that she has something for dinner and gets to her car safely? She has my phone number, one bad text, and your ass is grass."

Aedion tosses her a wink, and it's all Aelin can do to keep from outright gaping. Rowan looks stunned, his eyes darting between the two Ashryvver's. They settle on Aelin for a moment too long. Some of the tension eases from his shoulders, and he smiles. "I think I can manage that."

"Good." Aedion turns back up the stairs pats the box. "Thanks for bringing it to me, Lin. I'll call you tomorrow, don't send me to voicemail."

Just like that, her cousin, a walking, talking agent-of-chaos, disappears back to wherever he came from.

"So," Rowan starts, "If you want, I know a perfect Italian place we could swing by, my treat seeing as I plowed into you."

Aelin frowns and fiddles with the end of her necklace. "You aren't upset that I lied?"

"You didn't lie." Rowan chuckles, a deep sound that sends a shiver of delight down Aelin's spine. "You don't go here."

Aelin tilts her head as if she's deeply considering the offer. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. What's good there?"

"They have an awesome kabob." Rowan tugs his towel tighter. "It's my favorite."

It's Aelin's turn to laugh. "Isn't that just meat on a stick?"

"Let's go, and I can show you how profoundly wrong you are," he moves to take a step down, but Aelin stops him with a hand to the shoulder. "What is it?"

Aelin points to his towel, "I don't think they will serve guests without pants."

The flush that Aelin loves his back full force as he scrambles the other direction up the stairs. "Shit. Give me five minutes. I'll be right back. Aedion better have not locked out or I swear-"

Rowan's embarrassed tirade quiets as he charges up to his dorm to change. Aelin smiling as he goes. She can't believe she's going out to dinner with a guy like that.

Opening her phone, she sends a quick heart emoji to her cousin. He instantly replies back with one of his own. Aedion may have moved to college, but he still had her back at the end of the day. Even if it wasn't in the most ideal way.

Rowan comes back down the stairs moments later, and she's not disappointed by what she sees. He took the time to put on a flannel shirt and comb some gel through his hair. While the view without clothes had been pleasant, Aelin could definitely appreciate this look too.

"I'm ready if you are," Rowan extends an arm to help her down the stairs.

It's such a fussy, old-man move, and she loves it.

"Let's go."

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month #throne of glass #rowaelin #fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #tog #fluff #college au #day two

196 notes · View notes

mggpleasedontlookhere · 4 years ago

Text

sinking

request: Helloo! 👋🏼 I really like your stories for Spencer Reid, they’re pretty detailed, creative and really interesting! So.. idk if you’ll see this but I was wondering if you’re willing to create a Reid x Reader where, the reader doesn’t know how to swim and so one day, an unsub who works around waters or something holds reader hostage and then shoves her into the ocean off the dock, in hopes to run away and no one knows she can’t swim besides Reid who jumps after her immediately? Sorry, thank u! :)

for: @tooweirdforyou

word count: 2,600 reading time aprox: 10 mins

masterlist

New York City, the land of naked cowgirls in the middle of Times Square, overpriced souvenirs, and home of Broadway shows. Unfortunately we didn’t have the privilege to be stationed in the heart of Manhattan, since our unsub had decided to execute his activities in the suburban neighborhoods of the city.

We were seated in a police station in Rockaway. The neighborhood we were in was low on the socioeconomic spectrum, which offered a clue to the profile we’ve built. Me, Spencer, and Morgan sat around in the conference of the station, discussing our frivolous adventures of life as we waited for the rest of the team to head back from their tasks.

“Wait so you’re telling me that you hate the ocean?” Morgan teased Reid, nudging him in the shoulder in a brotherly manner. “Why is that?” He continued, a smirk making its way onto his lips.

“Do you have any idea how many microbes are in the ocean” Spencer cringed, crunching up his nose in disgust. “In a single liter of seawater alone, there’s approximately a colony of one billion bacteria and ten billion virus-” He explained before getting cut off by Morgan.

“Oka-okay germ boy, enough of that before you ruin my image of a perfect vacation”

“Germ boy? That’s new” I interjected in amusement, laughing as Spencer squatted lower in his chair to hide the oncoming blush on his cheeks. “Oh come on Spence- hey everyone’s got some sort of phobia” I reassured, reaching over to ruffle his tangled hair.

“Well actually, a phobia is-”

“Don’t ruin it Spence” I joked, watching his lips curl up into an amused smile.

On cue, the rest of the BAU entered the building in a hurry. Hotch and JJ ran side by side into the office where we held Raymund Celter, a relative of the suspected unsub, for questioning. Me, Spencer, and Morgan looked at each other in confusion, until Emily walked up to us with an embittered expression.

“What’s up?” Morgan asked, directing the conversation to the suspenseful air that surrounded the four of us.

Emily sighed, rubbing her forehead in frustration. “Our unsub...isn’t who we thought it was” She admitted, letting her eyes cast over the interrogation room where Hotch and JJ were.

“Wait- but our profile still fits right?” Morgan insisted with his eyebrows furrowed and his forehead etched with lines.

“Yeah, but we’ve been looking at the wrong type of relationship” She sighed, her defeated expression indicating the exhaustion that all of us shared. “If the unsub isn’t a relative- and we ruled out employees since the victims aren’t necessarily affluent- who else has full invitation to the house, is comfortable enough with the family, and is particularly close to-” She paused mid sentence as all the cogs in our brains were turning until we all settled on the same idea.

We looked at each other in revelation and it seemed like JJ and Hotch shared a similar idealization as they rushed out of the interrogation room.

Emily was quick to get Garcia on the phone, witnessing the troubled looks she received from Hotch. “Garcia, can you see if there were any family friends or close neigh-” She requested, although she was abruptly cut off by Hotch informing her of the details that they’ve uncovered.

“No need for that. The man we’re looking for is Henry Bennett, he grew up next door to the Celter’s residence- Garcia can you look for the last known address” Hotch commanded, chewing the inside of his mouth in anticipation.

“Uh- we might have a problem, sir” Garcia sheepishly admitted. “Well I’ve looked at his DMV records and there are 4 possible locations where he can reside at” Garcia explained, sending the coordinates to our tablets.

“Um okay, we’re going to have to split up. JJ and Morgan, Emily’s with Rossi, Reid you’re with me- Y/N are you okay doing this by yourself?” Hotch asked, concerning wavering in his eyes. I nodded in affirmation, already strapping on my gun and heading to the armory for FBI bullet proof vests.

After everyone had situated themselves in the right attire, it was time to leave in separate cars. That’s when Spencer pulled me aside by the arm, clutching it with a tense hand. “Are you sure you’re fine going alone? I can tell Hot-” He rambled, his words laced with the same concern Hotch expressed previously.

“Don’t worry germ boy, I think I can handle myself pretty well” I jokingly reassured. Although the lines etched across his forehead didn’t seem to lessen as I tried to lighten up the air. “Listen Spence...I’m going to be okay- I promise I’ll be extra careful” I expressed in the hopes that his doleful expression would vanish.

He responded with a hesitant nod and a tight lipped smile, pulling me into a warm embrace. He smelled of pumpkin spice candles mixed in with a little sweat, which, oddly, made out to be a comforting aroma.

“Hey germ boy, If it makes you feel any better about before, I’m absolutely terrified about the ocean too- well all types of large bodies of water” I sheepishly admitted, ruffling the top of his head as I went to open the front door of the SUV.

“Wait what?” He replied, taken aback by my profession. “You are?” He continued with a smirk on his lips.

“Yeah, I don’t do well with the whole “deep water and the unknown thing” I expressed, staring at my twiddling thumbs. “I also, kinda, don’t know how to swim either” I blushed, climbing into the front seat of the vehicle, watching Spencer’s grin grow. Finally bidding a final adieu to all of my colleagues, I headed out to the coordinates I had been assigned to.

With my luck, I was sent to a docking area near Rockaway beach. The coordinates that Garcia had sent me were of an old fishing hut near the coastline. I was in constant contact with the rest of the team, communicating whether the unsub was to be found at our locations.

I surveyed the area with my gun close to my chest, pointed down to the floor. My eyes flickered to the water numerous times, feeling my anxiety rile up in my veins as I attempted to keep my focus on finding unsub. I was essentially on high alert, every creek and every sound triggering my flight or fight response.

It wasn't until I had gotten to the fishing hut that my anxiety rose to a new high. The small house was located at the end of the dock where the waves crashed against the wooden spokes below the thin bridge.

Suddenly, I had heard footsteps from the inside of the hut. I raised my gun into a more controlled position before taking a breath, tentatively opening the door to enter. “FBI” I yelled, feeling my arms shake as the sound of the water amplified, bouncing off the floorboards. “ Henry Bennett” I called out, surveying my surroundings. “ I'm from the FBI, I just want to talk” I peaked around the corner, seeing a slight shadow of a figure at the end of a hallway.

I radioed in my location, letting the rest of the team know that I had found the unsub. Hotch informed me that the rest of the team we're coming soon, although they might take longer than expected. With a brief goodbye, I finally made myself known, locking eyes with the unsub himself. “Henry Bennett-” I began but was ultimately cut off with his radical spiel.

“Ge-get away from m-me” He stuttered, a pistol in his right hand pointed directly at me. “Y-you don-don’t understand. NO ONE UNDERSTANDS!” He yelled, his behavior becoming more unstable by the minute.

“Hey, it's okay-it's okay, I'm here to help” I proceeded to attempt to calm him down as he started to hit his head with his other hand. Although he continued to inflict harm to himself, repeating the same mantra as before.

“NO ONE UNDERSTANDS! NO ONE UNDERSTANDS! NO ONE-”

In the midst of his words I cut him off abruptly, placing my gun in its holster to indicate peace. “Henry, look at- hey look at me Henry” I called his attention, halting his actions. “I'm here to help, my team is going to come very soon and they are going to help you” I reassured, creeping closer to disarm him.

“Ar-are you sure?” He whimpered, still clutching onto the gun with the tight grip. I placed my hand over his, letting him sink into my touch.

“Yes Henry, I promise” I softly guaranteed, feeling his grip loosen up as I rubbed his back to soothe him. Although as I proceeded to take away his gun, he tensed up again looking at me with doleful eyes.

“Do you really promise?” He asked in desperation, searching my eyes for the truth as I fished out for his weapon. I nodded, giving him an understanding smile as he finally let go of his weapon. I calmed him down, telling him everything was going to be okay, letting him kneel down into the position to apprehend him for his crimes.

Unfortunately, the team had picked this time to approach the area, the loud sirens engulfing the dock, triggering the unsub to expel in a violent outburst. Suddenly I was pinned to the ground with strong arms, while malicious screams were emitted from the unsub's mouth.

“You promised! YOU PROMISED!” The unsub repeated, reaching over to retain the gun he had. “You lied to me- JUST LIKE THE REST OF THEM!” He sobbed, pressing the cold metal against the back of my forehead. “Now you’re going to pay” He threatened, forcefully pulling me up to my feet and walking me out to the docks.

The team came into view as we walked out, although my vision was distorted due to the tears that began to appear in the corners of my eyes. “Henry Bennett, FBI, let her go and things will go smoothly” Spencer spoke, maintaining a calm composure. When he locked eyes with my terrified ones, I saw a chink in his armor.

Despite the small discovery, he had a firm grip on his gun, pointing it directly at the unsub as the rest of the team followed behind him.

“NO! SHE LIED TO ME!” Henry bellowed, digging the barrel right into the side of my head as he held me by the neck.

“Please Henry, nobody has to be hurt” Emily interjected, trying to extinguish the situation in a peaceful manner.

“But- but” Henry shook his head, letting his malevolent expression falter for a moment. The team crept closer to where we were positioned. Soon enough, Henry noticed this and for every step forward the team took, he would take a step back.

It was until we had reached the end of the dock that the team had realized. “Please Henry, we know what happened with Raymund- we know that his parents didn’t approve of your friendship with him-” Emily began, placing her gun in the holster, similar to the tactic performed before. “-or should I say relationship. It was wrong of them to-”

“THEY WERE WRONG! THEY LIED TO ME!” He screamed, the gun in his hand shaking as he loosened his grip. “I loved him and they t-told m-me I couldn’t” He cried, dropping his weapon.

The team took this as an opportunity to approach Henry, seeing that he was disoriented. But, they soon found out that they were wrong. Henry threw himself into the water with his arm still latched around me. I struggled against his grip, beating against his rib cage as he fought my resistance.

With a hard blow to the forehead, I was able to swim up to the surface. I glanced at my feet, seeing his unconscious body drift down into the dark abyss. Terrified thoughts raced inside my head, thinking of the possibility of drowning and never being found. I squirmed and kicked, taking in a breath of air as I broke into the surface.

Suddenly, I was scooped into a pair of arms as I continued to panic and writhe in their grasp. I took chaste breaths, my eyes still covered with water, so I was unable to see who had me. It was until Spencer’s soothing voice reached my ears, that I finally calmed down.

“Y/N! Y/N! I got you- hey I got you” He repeated, although the affirmation was more for his own state of mind.

My breathing was still rapid, but my brain had registered that I was going to be okay. I let tears mix in with the sea water on my cheeks as I sobbed in terror. The cold sensation of the water increased my adrenaline by ten fold. I gripped onto Spencer’s vest, similar to a child with their mother, letting his voice soothe me.

I placed my head in the crook of his neck as he pulled the both of us near a ladder. He pushed me up gently, encouraging me to climb up to the rest of the team. Once I was situated on land, I sat down and burrowed myself into my knees. I was embarrassed, yet grateful that Spencer had saved me, knowing that my severe fear of water was now known to the rest of the team.

Finally, Spencer knelt down to where I sat, wrapping his long arms around where I had enclosed myself. I let myself lean into his embrace, nuzzling my head into his neck once again as he helped me control my breathing.

A blanket was placed on the both of us as I refused to get up. Spencer gave a sideways glance to Hotch in the way of saying “give us a moment’. The team had refuted back to their cars in respect to Spencer’s request, leaving me and him on the dock.

“Than-thank you” I muttered, able to muster up the strength to express my gratitude.

“It’s nothing Y/N” He reassured, letting the sound of seagulls and the waves permeate the ambiance of the scene. “When...when you told me that you had a fear of the water- and that you can’t swim- seeing you getting pushed into the water nearly gave me a heart attack” He admitted, breathing into the top of my head.

“I don’t- I don’t know what to do to thank you Spence. I was so- so terrified- and you went to- I just- thank you” I praised, looking up into his worried expression.

I placed an apprehensive hand on his cheek, getting a better look at the beautiful features that graced his face. I smiled at him, observing how his eyes would flicker from my eyes to my lips. I blushed at the discovery, letting myself lean more into his embrace.

Slowly, our faces closed in on the distance, our breaths fanning over each other’s faces as we looked at each other for any indication of resistance. Finally our lips collided in a kiss, maintaining slow movements as we melted in each other.

His lips were supple and tasted like vanilla lip balm, although his movements were gentle and meaningful. He grazed my cheeks with both of his hands, cupping them in his palms as he pulled away. He proceeded to place chaste kisses on my forehead as I let my eyes close at the feeling.

“I think that was a pretty great way to thank me” He grinned.

“I guess I’ll just have to keep thanking you for all the times you’ve made my life better”

taglist: @rexorangecouny @howdycharlie

A/N

i hope this is okay, not my best work, but i hope it’s still enjoyable.

1K notes · View notes

skiyoosmi · 4 years ago

Text

– caramel frappucino | 22

marga’s notes. because no one deserves to be confronted just through texts ♡ i recommend y’all to listen to the songs below while reading cause… the feels!! + some of the lyrics fit in their story :((

♪ CHAPTER PLAYLIST ♪

tokyo by joseph & maia | i can’t make you love me covered by dave thomas junior | still feel it all by maro

previous | masterlist | next

Every chime of the small bell hanging by the café’s glass doors had your head snapping up, anxiety plastered on your face while doing so. Sweat kept on forming on your palms as time seemed to tick slower. I probably look like a fool looking at every new customer right now, you thought as you looked around the area, nervous that he might’ve already arrived and you just didn’t notice it yet. Too occupied with your unnecessary thoughts, you have failed to notice the figure making its way towards you, hands deep in the pocket of his denim jacket.

“You look like a mess,” his monotonous voice told you, chuckling by the end of his statement as you gasped and sat up straight, acting as normal as possible. Your somewhat sympathetic eyes followed his figure as he took a seat in front of you.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s still too early to break my heart, you know?” he joked although there was a stinging pain that passed in his heart as he said that… but you don’t have to know that, he thought.

The café was quiet; too quiet that as more seconds pass by, the faster your heart beats. If you were to be honest, you didn’t know where to start. You didn’t even know how you have gathered enough courage to meet him today. After what Tooru had told you last night, you hadn’t even slept a wink. You just couldn’t.

“Uhm… so… Tooru… uhh,” you stuttered, mind going blank as you tried to form your words that you have practiced so many times while you were in the bathroom, getting ready a while ago. What in the world are you doing, [y/n]? Speak! you internally screamed, already imagining yourself regretting your decision by the end of the day.

“I know. He told me that he told you,” he softly spoke, giving you a small smile of reassurance; just like what he’s been doing in the past years and with that, you felt your heart shatter as your thoughts flooded you once more.

How could you have not noticed it? Looking at him, you could see it now – the eyes that stared at you lovingly; the hand that twitches every now and then as it longed to touch you, or pull you close; the smile that held back so many feelings; and the heart that holds his love that was solely kept for you… how could you have not noticed it?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as you felt tears welling up. Frustration grew inside you when you heard him chuckle. How could he even manage to laugh right now? You had no idea how he did it. In your case, guilt surged in your insides as if it was an ocean threatening to swallow you whole. If you could shrink yourself into oblivion, you would probably do so.

Slowly, he reached over your hand that was neatly folded together on the table, caressing it with his thumb as he held onto it tightly. You were sure that if anyone who doesn’t know both of you sees you, they’d probably think you were just another couple out on a simple date but no. You two were best friends who fell in love with each other, both in wrong times. You were two young adults who danced in fate’s hands, clueless that you were being played by time.

“Don’t say sorry. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault except time, [y/n],” he told you, lightly squeezing the hand he held. You sniffed a little bit, finally gathering the courage to look back at him after your short turmoil.

“I should’ve told you…” you both said at the same time, catching each other off guard. Light chuckles turned into a fit of giggles as you shook your heads at your silliness. Unbeknownst to the two of you, your thoughts matched one another’s while you had your lovely moment. You were made for me, but not in ‘that’ way, you both thought; hands still intact with each other.

“I expected you to be more… crybaby,” he commented after a few moments of talking. You sadly smiled after releasing a deep breath.

“I had my crybaby moment last night already,” you shrugged as you fiddled with your fingers out of nervousness. The deafening silence has returned once more as Hajime stared at you, rather longingly… but again, he thought you don’t have to know that.

“Stop being so guilty, you baby. It’s not our fault time was against us,” he softly spoke with reassurance and comfort.

“You like that Sakusa now, don’t you?” you meekly nodded, an eyebrow rising at the sudden query.

“Then be happy with him.”

You opened your mouth to say something against his statement, only to be shut down as he held his hand up. When it comes to Hajime’s firmness, no one can go against it; not even you, his sole weakness.

“Don’t think about me. I’ll be fine soon… having this closure with you… it’s enough for me,” once again, the small wound in your heart burst open and soon, tears formed in the corner of your eyes while you hastily wiped them off. He was too kind, too pure for this world, even for you. He whispered a quiet ‘stop crying’ while wiping the salty liquid that escaped your eyes.

“W-what did I do to deserve someone like you?” you whimpered, not even caring if the other customers looked at the two of you weirdly.

“W…what can I do to repay this kindness?” you asked him as you looked with a pair of melancholic eyes.

“Just spend this day with me like what we normally do… then be happy.”

And you did. From going to an amusement park, watching a movie and at some point during your friendly date, he managed to ask you one of the questions that kept him up from his sleep as well.

“So… uhm… I may or may not have read one of your texts with Sakusa about the strawberry ice cream,” he muttered, sheepishly scratching the back of his head as he looked at you, who in turn, shrugged.

“I used to love it; you know? Those boxes of strawberry milk you got me throughout middle and high school. It gave me the hope that maybe, I was special to you too…” you softly told him while you both walked along the park, having had enough of the rides that almost made you two puke your internal organs out. “… until third year came when I accepted that it won’t happen; we will never happen. Anything that had strawberry in it tasted bitter. I felt bitter.”

He never said anything back and soon, you found yourselves eating dinner in a fancy restaurant that he told you he’d been saving up for to take you someday.

Little did you know, Hajime’s heart has been erratically beating due to the fact that the time he dreaded neared as you were almost done eating. You were already at your desserts and soon, he will have to say goodbye; not as your friend but as your lover. As soon as the day ends and tomorrow comes, he will – finally – have to let you go.

“In our next lives…” you looked up from the caramel custard you were poking with your teaspoon as he spoke up. You hummed, signaling him to continue, unaware of the gulp he took while trying to formulate his next words.

“In our next lives, I will love you first… I will make you happy and I will give you the love you have always deserved. For now, be happy with Sakusa in this timeline.”

The walk to the train was quiet, but no longer the same quietness you hated that morning – it was comforting, it felt like home as you walked together hand in hand, no pain lingering around your hearts as you both accepted your fate.

“Well, today was… fulfilling, Haji. This… this is my ride ho–”

“I’ll take you home. Let’s go,” he announced as he pulled you inside the train packed with office workers who were dying to go home and rest. You wonder why he suddenly thought of taking you all the way to your house. He literally has to travel for another hour because of this, you internally screamed while glaring at him for his impulsiveness.

“Stop glaring at me. It’s only right that I take you home for the last time,” he spoke, not even bothering to look at you. How did he know you were glaring? You honestly have no idea.

Thirty minutes later and here you both were, walking side by side along the empty street leading to your home. His firm statement back in the restaurant lingered in your mind as you remembered how it struck your heart when you heard it. Because of that, you didn’t even know how to respond and remained silent. Still, he held no sadness nor remorse in his face, only a determined look that almost convinced you that it will happen soon.

As your simple house came into view, you both stopped, knowing that he has to go back to the station now or else he will have to wait another thirty minutes for the next train to arrive. He was quick to ruffle your hair, silently bidding his goodbye.

You knew that if one of you speaks at the moment, you were sure as hell that one of you will also go into full-blown crying. But you know what? Damn this all, you thought.

“Iwaizumi Hajime!” you yelled as soon as he was about twenty steps away from you. You could see him stiffen but slowly turned around. You didn’t care if you woke some of your neighbors; you could deal with their complaints tomorrow.

“In our next lives, I will choose you… you better find me, okay, Haji?”

Tears were spilled from both of your eyes as he solemnly smiled and nodded, choosing to mouth his reply. Nonetheless, you understood it with your whole heart.

“I’ll come to you… so please wait for me.”

#haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #sakusa smau #sakusa x reader #haikyuuwritersnet #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu social media au #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu #sakusa imagines #sakusa scenarios #sakusa social media au #sakusa headcanons

2K notes · View notes

a-libra-writes · 4 years ago

Note

hello, i am here! Stannis with the prompt: a diary where you can communicate with your soulmate, please. it can be hc's or scenario; however you choose to quench my thirst for him, I will be grateful.

hi molly, thank u for giving me such a treat!!! bc this was my first prompt and it... uh ....................

really got away from me

(LOTS OF ANGST BUT ITLL BE OK I PROMISE MAYBE)

The first thing he felt about it was annoyance. The six year old second son of Lord Baratheon looked down and saw that someone had doodled all over his book. He figured it was Robert, though he'd never seen a quill in his brother's hand unless it was being forced by the maester. He set the leather bound book in front of his mother expectantly, silently waiting for an explanation. When she looked at it and gave him a curious glance, he finally spoke.

"Robert's been drawing in it," Stannis said. He placed it right on top of her embroidery so she'd see. Lady Cassana wasn't bothered, rather, she was curious. She picked up the book and flipped through the pages.

"Did you see him do it, sweetling?"

"No." The lack of evidence didn't deter him - no, this was evidence enough. He didn't understand what his mother was so amused about.

Lady Cassana stopped on one of the pages. She smiled at the messy drawing of what was probably a cat catching a mouse. Under that was a tidy little castle with a series of smiling figures. "I don't think it's your brother, Stannis."

Stannis frowned, ready to argue that fact, but she asked, "Do you know what a soulmate is, sweetling?"

“No.”

“It’s a special person that only you can speak with this way,” She touched the book. “It's a special thing, I did it when I was your age. It’s the will of the gods, my love. You should write something back."

He hesitated. “Do I… have to?”

“Not if you don’t want to. But perhaps say hello, give it a try.” Lady Cassana said. She was smiling broadly now. “Enjoy it while you can.”

"What if they're not literate?"

Maester Cressen looked up from his papers, surprised the usually quiet boy was speaking during lessons. Stannis repeated, “What if my… soul mate doesn’t know their letters? You said the smallfolk don't."

The Maester stood and walked over to the leather book. Two years later, and it still looked in good condition. Stannis took care of this things, especially this. As usual the page was covered in whimsical drawings.

“Have you tried to write to them, my lord?”

“Not yet.” Stannis was furrowing his brow already, wanting his questions answered. “What happens if one soul mate can’t write, but the other can? What if both can't?"

“My lord, there's no need to worry about things that are irrelevant to you.”

“What do the smallfolk do?” Stannis pressed on. “Draw pictures like this? How do they find each other? How do they know what the other person looks like?"

Maester Cressen was already turning back to his papers. “Soulmates don’t always find each other, my lord, nor should they expect to.”

“Why not?”

“Distance, lack of communication, familial duties.” The maester said dismissively. “If you’ll return to your lessons—”

“I finished. What’s the point of soulmates if they can never meet?"

Maester Cressen sighed. There was no escaping this anytime soon, he feared. “It’s the will of the gods, my lord, and a great mystery we maesters have studied for centuries. It’s best not to think much of it, however. Draw or write back in the book, if you wish, but do not spend too much time with it. It’s best not to get expectations of someone you will likely never meet.”

Stannis looked down at the book, startled by a new drawing already appearing. He couldn’t see them being made, only when they were finished. It was a school of fish, or maybe a flock of birds. Wouldn’t it be simple to ask where this person lived, and go see them? What was the point of all this if he was just meant to ignore it? He wanted to ignore it, but this mysterious person kept drawing all over his notes and it was distracting.

“Mother said it’s 'the will of the gods', too. Does that mean it’s bad to ignore it?”

The maester stood up and closed the leather book. He replaced it with a chart of various colorful coat of arms and a map. “I daresay it’s time to move on to the next lesson."

It took him a few days, but the lordling decided to write in the book. Stannis wasn't much of an artist, so Hello seemed like a good start. He was relieved when there was a simple ‘hello!’ written back within a few minutes, and later, a scribbly flower with a long stalk underneath. Seeing the words form on their own so quickly, and in response to him, unnerved Stannis. He closed the book and tried not to think about it the rest of the day.

He checked a week later, where more drawings were present, with more words: whats your nam?

He wrote back, Name has an 'e'.

And before his eyes, a minute later, there was a name… and a house, and a title. Caspian.

She was a highborn lady? Stannis looked at the page, not sure what to think about it. It’d be alright to write to a lady, wouldn’t it? Maester Cressen was the one worried about this soulmate business. Perhaps it was because a lord and peasant couldn’t be together? Stannis knew that rule already. He knew the decorum and niceties his parents rehearsed him through, even at his young age. He walked to the library to find a map, and in the time he finally located it and rolled it out, there was more on the page.

A drawing of something weird and arrow-shaped. this is our sigil. its a manta ray.

Stannis had never seen one, but he had a sense that wasn’t what they looked like. He tried looking through the map, but words kept appearing.

whats your nam where are you from? ?? are you a boy or girl do you like horses ? I like swiming and horses! im good at it

He considered closing the book again, rolling up the map, going back to whatever he was doing before. If there was no point, then why bother with this? ... Then again, he’d have to go back to the training yard, and Robert was there swinging around a huge wooden sword.

Stannis frowned, deciding this was the less annoying (and painful) activity for now. He found an ink pot and quill, held it tightly and wrote in a fine penmanship—

My name is Stannis Baratheon.

The last part smudged, and it didn’t look exactly how his father signed it, but it was his best. The response wasn’t immediate, and he quickly saw why. A drawing of a stag appeared on the paper before the words did.

Its good to meat you! lets be friends

Friends? Friends. He thought about it. Stannis didn’t have friends, just brothers. He didn’t think he needed any. This didn’t have to be so bad, though, he could try. If it was too tiresome, or too... strange, he could stop. Maester Cressen wanted him to stop, anyhow, and his mother said he didn't have to.

It’s spelled ‘meet’. We can be friends.

Lady Cassana patted his mess of black hair, and Stannis didn’t flinch away this time. Instead, he asked, “Were you and father soulmates?”

“No,” She answered honestly. She was always honest, and he liked that. His father joked too much. “Do you remember what I told you about duty? Sometimes we have to set aside our hearts to best serve our realm. Sometimes we have to set aside this.”

She gave the leather book back to him. Maester Cressen had taken it, and he was determined to accept the punishment, but it bothered him more than he wanted to say. He was grateful his mother returned it, though he was struggling to meet her eyes. His ears were still red from embarrassment, but she wasn’t upset, or teasing, or scolding.

“It hurt me to set my own down, but I knew it wasn’t meant to be. Your father had one that he never wrote to. The idea of having it and setting it aside was too much for him. And yet, we love each other very much, and we love our sons.” Lady Cassana stopped touching his hair when he finally squirmed away. Stannis ran his fingers along the leather spine and the uneven parchment bound inside the book.

When he took a long time to answer, she spoke softly. “It’s your decision, Stannis.”

That night, he wrote in the book, asking what she’d do when they grew up. When she'd stop writing. The response was instant. There was a drawing of a sad girl next to her words.

your my friend! i like writing to you. do you want to stop?

I don’t. Stannis decided, and that was it.

The talks still came, though. It happened before, several times, and here it was again. It didn’t matter that he stopped bringing the book to his lessons, or that he only wrote in the privacy of his room. Maester Cressen always seemed to know.

“It’s for your own good that you begin to set it aside, Stannis,” The old man said. He always seemed old, but when he was scolding it was especially so.

Stannis wasn’t one to talk back, but he still struggled to hide his scowl. This wasn’t the first time the maester made him set his jaw and tense it up. It wasn’t his business. She never discouraged it, so he didn’t understand why Maester Cressen had to.

“It’s not inappropriate,” He said. “She’s a lady. I never write improperly, it's like sending letters."

“Sending a strange lady letters is inappropriate,” The Maester sighed. “Especially without the knowledge of her family. What would they say?"

“She could tell them at anytime."

“Do you tell your lord father and lady mother all that you write, then?”

Stannis gritted his teeth and turned away. At ten and three, Stannis could already see over the old man’s head, and he didn't feel like a child, so he didn't appreciate being talked to like one. “You don’t speak to Robert about these matters.”

“Robert is at the Eyrie, no doubt being told the same by Lord Arryn. Stannis, do you understand why I say these things? Do you understand the trouble it could cause you, and worse, her?”

Maester Cressen often referred to ‘her’, or the girl, even if she was just as grown as Stannis. He didn't ask her identity, and Stannis didn't give it. He hated having to hear this conversation again. Of all the trouble Robert was already causing in the Eyrie — he saw those letters, it was his duty to attend to them while his parents were at sea — Stannis felt like his own actions were hardly important. There would be weeks where he couldn’t write to her at all, or she was busy as well. If anyone tried to read what they wrote, gods forbid, it was mostly idle talk and drawings.

Lots and lots of drawings, she still had that habit. She was getting very good at them. Stannis brought his mind back to the present. “I understand.” He said, in a tone that made it clear he didn’t actually intend to stop.

Case in point, he pulled out the worn leather book that evening. It was the second, or maybe the third one. If she didn’t draw so much they’d have more room, but sometimes Stannis wrote a lot, too. She made it easy to do that. It was alright if she didn’t answer right away, or if at all. It was good to just write it.

He frowned as he moved to the most recent page. It was a short, curt sentences, which wasn’t like her. There were no pictures.

My cousin died this morning. We were riding together, and she fell from her horse. I couldn’t help her. No one blames me, but I feel terrible. I’ve been crying all day. I’m going to the Godswood tonight to pray for forgiveness. I might be quiet. I'm sorry.

‘I might be quiet’. ‘I might not write tonight.’ ‘I’ll write to you tomorrow’. ‘I’ll tell you about it when I can’. Those were phrases the two of them were used to. It was expectant. They may not write every day, or every week, but eventually they will.

Take the time you need. I’ll be here for you.

It made his chest hurt to write that, but he knew it was the right thing. It’s what she would always say to him, and without fail, he’d eventually come around and tell her. She was the only one he really told… anything. He wondered if the same was true for her. She mentioned visiting ladies now and again, a knight’s daughter she played with, and… this cousin.

He kept the book beside him the rest of the evening, knowing she likely wouldn’t respond. By the time she did, the earlier conversation with the maester had left his mind.

The longest they’d gone without writing was during the following year. It took months before he could pick the book up again, even look at it. It was months using all the willpower he had to get out of bed and carry on. There was Renly to look after, and Storm’s End to attend to, and the duties that Robert neglected when he returned to the Eyrie. He should have stayed, but he didn’t. So Stannis took care of it. He did what was right.

When he was finally able to pick up the book, when the choking pain keeping him up at night had dulled to just a constant ache that allowed sleep now and again, he hesitated.

The latest page was inquiries of how he was, where he was. There was a variety of pictures, black and some colors she’d managed to get ahold of. Her manta rays looked like proper rays, and so did the stags she had become so fond of. She drew some ships she’d seen in the harbor, a cat that liked to hide away in her bedroom. Then the pictures stopped.

My father told me what happened. Stannis, I’m here. You can write to me, whenever you can. I’ll always be here.

It hurt again. He closed the book, listened to the fire flickering loudly in the hearth in his room. It was becoming stuffy, but he didn’t want to open a window. He could hear the waves and the crashes against the rock from his window, and that would lead to the sounds of broken wood and screams in his sleep.

He moved closer to the fire, away from those sounds. Flipping through the old book’s pages, looking at the art and some of the sillier things she wrote. Apparently when he’d make her laugh, she’d screw up some letters. She told him as much. When he corrected any spelling, she liked to make the same mistake and circle it. She liked to draw little figures that were supposed to be them, but it was awful on purpose, and they were usually doing something ridiculous like riding a dragon.

Looking back on those gave him the strength to flip to the newest page. He stared at it, wondering if he should stop. He was acting Lord of Storm’s End. Wasn’t his duty even more important than this, and wasn’t her reputation in danger? ‘Willed by the gods’, they said, but he no longer believed in those. What gods would smash his parents and their great ship against the rocks of their own castle? The same stupid gods that would create this... this connection in a world where it would inevitably be severed.

He gritted his teeth, feeling the pain shoot up across his jaw and straight to his head, where a headache would start. The fire was right there. It would be easy to …

His hands moved on their own. The words were sloppy and left heavy ink blotches on the paper. I’m here.

I am too. I missed you.

The response was near instantaneous. Perhaps if she waited, he could’ve done it. He could’ve burned it, if she hadn’t wrote that. Maybe it didn’t matter what she’d say. The sudden longing and loneliness hit him all at once, but it was easy to respond.

I won’t do it again. Being gone for this long.

A pause, a heartbeat, and a tensing of his jaw that made his head ache again. He added in an anxious scrawl, I missed you too.

It was another sleepless night, but for once, it wasn’t because of the nightmares and the crashing waves. The sun came up as he wrote in the margins of the last page, promising to find a new book.

There was modest wooden box he kept them in, hidden under his bed. He was good at hiding it now. No one had bothered mentioning Stannis’ old habit anymore, assuming he’d grown out of it. He’d dated all of them to the best of his knowledge, though he rarely went back to read them. He used to, but that simple act flustered him horribly. They were still in good condition, except for one that had been partially chewed by a hunting hound. The one time he was careless.

The hound was no longer around, and he regretted that. He liked dogs. He liked that one, upset as he was when she chewed the diary years ago. She was still a good, loyal dog. He had to butcher her with the rest.

Stannis tried to remember when they ate the dogs. Thinking was a slow, laborious process now. He had to sit down to do it, and getting up was even worse. He stayed standing as long as possible, afraid of what would happen if he stopped. He couldn’t stop, not while his men needed him, and Renly, and Robert.

He moved slowly. It was hard to tell if it was to conserve energy or if he simply had no energy left. Stannis carefully unwrapped the small leather strap that kept the diary bound and closed. His shaking hands struggled to grasp the paper and turn the pages, but he managed. It was the writing that was the hardest. At least there was plenty of paper and ink, only because no one could eat it.

When he looked at the page again, the lighting was different. The candle was lower than before. He’d dropped his quill on the floor — no, he was on the floor, leaning against the cool stone. Stannis didn’t remember falling. He wasn’t sure if he passed out, or fell asleep. Again he turned to the proper page and picked up the quill. He tried to write before he remembered he needed ink. The ink dragged across the page as he wrote languidly, Are you there

The question mark was more of an ugly splotch that spread across the paper.

Yes, always.

Her family supported the rebellion, being sworn to Eddard Stark, and outraged at what the Mad King had done to his father and brother. Stannis told himself it made writing easier, not that he’d ever give her any information that could endanger her. Early on, they didn’t speak of it. Especially now, he couldn’t. He couldn’t…

He couldn’t… think. Stannis struggled for words. He mentioned what day it was, how many men he had left. A log that helped keep him grounded, something he hated to subject her to, but he needed the clarity. Sometimes she corrected him on the day, and that startled him. As he finished his short report, his hand trembled, and he dropped the quill again. Stannis exhaled, forcing the air through his lungs, then struggled to breath in again.

Not for the first time, he wondered if this was dying.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he looked at the page again. She wrote a lot, and he couldn’t remember when it was there.

When you make it through this disgusting siege — and you will make it, Stannis — I’ll be there. I swear it, I’ll sail down to Storm’s End with my family’s ships. I don’t care anymore. I want to be there.

She’d said as much before, when this started. Stannis discouraged her. He didn’t have the strength for that anymore. Instead, he fought to keep his eyes open, fought to think about it, difficult as thinking was. Thinking of their meeting used to be a surefire way of a day full of anxious thoughts, but now it was… grounding. He couldn’t see the end of the rebellion, or the end of this siege. He just had to endure it. That’s what Robert said: Endure it, brother. Hold it for me.

But he could see her, in his thoughts. He could try. Some years ago, she asked what he looked like, and he responded as such: Blue eyes, black hair, like his father and brothers. Asking the same of her felt… strange. She didn’t answer right away, so he panicked. He said she didn’t have to do such a thing. It was inappropriate. She told him to wait, which he thought was odd.

Several hours later, she took up nearly a whole page with a ‘messy’ self-portrait: her words, not his. It was only a bust, but it still transfixed him. It was clear from the drawing she had looked in a mirror, and it was messy, and it was surrounded by words describing her hair color and her favorite dress and her eyes. Stannis couldn’t look at the page for days after that. He’d break out in a sweat just thinking about it.

It was comforting to think about the old picture now. Maybe 'comforting' wasn’t the right word, but she was the one who was good with words, and pictures, and little fantasies like this. She liked to write about what they could do if they met.

Maybe he took too long to respond again. She had written more. We’ll meet and you’ll show me the drum walls around Storm’s End. You promised. I’ll bring my best paintings, I made one for you. I don’t care if it’s allowed or not, it’s a gift. I want to see you so badly it hurts.

Stannis touched the letters. He was startled by how his pale hands seemed to blend into the parchment. He didn’t recognize the knuckles sticking out. He wondered what she sounded like, and how she laughed. He didn’t think he could manage it now. Stannis glanced around for the quill, dipped it into ink with a great deal of effort, and slowly slid it across the paper. He stopped abruptly, ruining the words.

You’re the strongest, most noble man I know. You will make it through this and the rebellion will end, and I’ll be with you. I swear it before the old gods and new.

The ink seeped into the paper, the quill trembled in his hand as he tried to hold it properly. He was dying, he decided. Only dying men ate disgusting leather they tried to boil into water and infected rats. Even the latter was becoming scarce. He scrawled a response, struggling to pull the words together.

I miss you.

I miss you too, Stannis.

#tihs is so self indulgent kfskfks #pls dont expect the other prompts to be this long haha i just went kinda nuts!!#stannis baratheon x reader #libra fics #libra minis

94 notes · View notes

itssuppertim3 · 4 years ago

Text

Share (Miraak x Remeir)

A sweet n' fluffy OC one shot for you, if I may

It was cold. And rainy. And wet.

Remeir and Miraak stood and observed the downpour, both pondering over their little predicament. In the spur of the storm, the two dragonborn took off towards the closest shelter they could find and luckily came upon an abandoned cave.

Miraak shook his head in dismay and grumbled an assortment of dovah curses. Remeir mustered a sigh before using a small flame spell to guide her way into the mouth of the cave. "This is just dreadful," Miraak muttered. "Dreadful, I say."

"Just get in here and help me start a fire before we both catch a cold," the redhead called back. Both of them were squatted down, a shivering mess. There were a few dried and burnable materials in her bag, such as paper, books she held no current interest in, and even unnecessary ingredients. The fire she managed to craft was a small one, yet durable. Luckily, her ebony armor deflected any rain from touching her clothes underneath. Her tall, atmoran companion was not so fortunate.

Miraak's robes were drenched and the worn fabric stuck to his skin like tree sap. She definitely didn't blame him for being as vexed as he was. "Don't glare at me with such remorse, Dragonborn," the man finally sighed. The quirky elf blew out a chuckle before rising to her feet. "I can dry your robes for you, if you want. I imagine it's not very comfy," she offered. Miraak inspected her extended hand and glanced at his outfit. "As long as you do not catch them on fire. I'm not in the mood for running around this land like a half-nude peasant." As serious and nonchalant as he was, Remeir bent over in a spew of laughter. "Oh, gods! How can someone as cold as you be so funny?! I could-- I could just picture you walking around like a damned caveman!" He clearly wasn't amused by the display in front of him.

In silent disgust, Miraak peeled off his top and threw it at his savior's face. "It's humiliating to be reminded that you were able to defeat me," he hissed. Still, she continued to chortle like an infant. Remeir was well-past her years of embarrassment. Over time, she gradually learned to ignore the opinions of others and lived the carefree life she always desired. That being said, most were so intimidated by her flamboyant personality that she was often avoided. She never failed to be amazed how Miraak had remained by her side for this long, now. Mara only knew almost every second with her had to be excruciating for him.

When the dunmer finally composed herself, she draped Miraak's robes above the fire and let the heat do its work. When she turned to face him, she had forgotten that his upper body was now completely and utterly bare. Saying that Remeir was unprepared for the sight in front of her was a massive understatement. As long as this woman had been breathing, she was more inexperienced with men than a fly was with a house! Besides the heavenly sound of his voice, she colored Miraak to have the body of one of the grey beards. That being said, she never failed to catch notice of the way his biceps swelled when lifting something heavy or how broad his shoulders grew when throwing his gear over his back. She knew he had a burly musculature. But this, this was something else entirely. Was that an eight-pack?!!

"Quit staring, you star-eyed oaf!" She switched back to reality when Miraak attempted to cover his front with his arms like an exposed woman. "My bad. Just trying to figure who the lucky lady you're trying to impress is," Rem stated bluntly before plopping down beside him. "Or~," she purred. "Could it be a seeker?" Miraak used his hand to push her face away. "You are outrageous," he grumbled. "Immature, little brat." Remeir ignored him and slid out her bedroll from her knapsack. As she started to unfold it, she glanced her companion's bag. "Is your stuff alright? It looks soaked."

"That's because it is. I cannot understand how I am the unlucky one in this situation. Other than those silly braids of yours, you along with all of your things are completely dry," he noted, fishing through his belongings. "Maybe it's because Lady Mara shines on my every step," she cooed. "Well, your Lady would sure be kind to shine a bit of light in my direction, as well." Sure enough, he retrieved a damp bedroll. "Oh, dear," she voiced. "Oh dear, indeed..." Miraak released a groan of annoyance and welcomed it on the cold floor. "Would you... like to share mine?"

A brief, uncertain silence was exchanged between the two. With Remeir's cheeks becoming the same pigment as her red strands, she started to frantic. "I-I mean, you probably won't like it since it'll be a tight squeeze. But it's better than sleeping on hard rock, right?" she clipped. Miraak took a moment to think it over. "Alright."

That night, Remeir was overwhelmed with all types of emotions. The soft glow of the campfire was able to ease her mind a tad, but viewing the large silhouette of Miraak's shadow flicker against the cave wall, it didn't do much help. She couldn't put her finger on it. It wasn't that she was afraid of him. His entire aura was just so overpowering to her. It was like sleeping next to a docile bear. The young elf stiffened after feeling his back press further into hers as he slept. He seemed awfully comfortable for someone who despised being even remotely close to another person.

He was so warm. She was surprised he produced so much body heat, which was the contrary to his icy persona. In all honesty, Remeir often admitted to herself that he was quite cute. He was strong, of course he was. He made made that clear whenever he was able, no matter the time nor place. But he was just so adorable! As her brain rambled on, Remeir neglected to notice him reposition himself on his other side to where his chest was firm against her back. She let out a tiny squeak in response. No longer was this man "adorable", he was flatout terrifying! "Miraak," she sounded. He was too deep in his slumber to reply.

When she attempted to wriggle some space between then, her actions were shot down upon feeling the sensation of Miraak's arms curling around the small of her form. Remeir's sanity was now dangling by a thread. He was so incredibly close to her in this moment, if his mask wasn't working as a barrier, he'd be kissing her neck! She nudged and squirmed and continued to make little attempts of stirring him from his unconscious oasis, but alas she ended up in failure each time.

"Zu'u los hin..."

The scrambled woman's breath had caught in her throat. She wasn't exceedingly fluent in Dovahzul like Miraak, but she was able to catch only his sleep-slurred words. "I am yours," he had said. What was that supposed to mean?? Rem prayed to every Aedra and Daedra that he wasn't dreaming of anything suggestive while holding her in such a way. Other than his odd choice of words and affectionate touch, he showed no signs of having any explicit intent.

Over the minutes, Remeir gradually released any pent-up tension she held and let herself become engulfed by the larger figure behind her. Miraak's legs softly entangled with her own and her heartbeat fell into the same rhythm as his. It was strange. She'd forgotten how safe it felt to be coddled by another person. She knew it wouldn't last, though she wished it would. Once he found out what he was doing, it would be the last time she would ever be caressed by him. That much upset her.

But little did the Last Dragonborn know, Miraak was awake the entire time.

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

God I literally love those two too much

#miraak #skyrim oc #elder scrolls #tesblr #dunmer #miraak x ldb #first dragonborn #one shot #fluff #dragon priest

59 notes · View notes

buckyownsmylife · 4 years ago

Text

v e l o c i t y - chapter i

The one where John’s your true mate, but he doesn’t want you to be his.

In a universe where fate grants you a new mate whenever you lose yours, John has lived quite comfortably for many years with the knowledge that he was alone after Mary. That all comes crumbling down the second that he meets you. How could the universe choose someone so young to be his omega?

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist. It’s being constantly updated

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I could see Bobby moving around from the corner of my eyes, but I felt too tired to even just stop focusing on the bottle of beer I was holding between my hands. People were all around us - actually, exclusively men, but I didn’t really know them and didn’t really care to introduce myself.

A feeling of loneliness had covered me, like a blanket I wasn’t too sure I would be able to push aside. Because the truth was, I was alone. Now that my dad was gone, I had no one to really count on.

Just then, I felt someone squeezing my shoulder and I forced myself to smile, because I knew I was being unfair. I knew Bobby would never leave me alone, not when he was my godfather and had always cared so deeply for me. But that didn’t make any of this any less hard.

Breathing deeply, I forced myself to get up from the couch and stretch my muscles before deciding to escape through the back door just so I could get a bit of fresh air out on the porch. Too many alphas in a single house and any unmated omega like myself would start to get crazy, even when we didn’t necessarily have any reason to feel threatened. So I stood there for a bit, looking out into the plain field, just pondering about what the future would hold for me until I heard a commotion coming from inside.

Curious, I walked back into the living room just in time to see three men being warmly welcomed by the hunter community that had gathered in Bobby’s house tonight. I vaguely recognized the one who seemed to be the oldest, but his back was turned to me and so I could only really take notice of a well-used black jacket, until a strong whiff of men’s cologne took over me and I felt like I was about to faint. What the hell was going on? My insides were hurting and I thought I was going to melt, so I held myself in a tight embrace in the hopes of keeping myself together when Bobby noticed me and while he tried to move me closer to the newcomers, probably intending to introduce me to them, the smell grew stronger and stronger until I was quite literally salivating to the arome.

Bobby extended his arm to get the familiar man’s attention and I immediately stretched mine to wrap around his wrist, in need of support. “Bobby, I don’t feel so well.” I knew his head whipped to look at me but at the same time, the man turned around and the last thing I remember before fainting was looking at eyes the color of honey.

It was already morning when I came to be. The sunlight softly penetrated the thin curtains on Bobby’s guest bedroom I was already familiar with and by the sight of it, I had been quite unceremoniously dropped over the still made bed, still wearing the same clothes from last night. That much was expected, not only since there wasn’t a single female in the house and I highly doubted Bobby would have let anyone see me naked, but also since yesterday's reunion had a purpose. The hunters gathered in my godfather’s house had a strict timeline to follow, if they wanted to get rid of the vampires that had murdered my father.

So I didn’t think much about it, opting to get in the shower and wash away the sadness and confusion over yesterday’s events. I still wasn’t sure about what had happened - I certainly hadn’t ever fainted before -, but I supposed the heaviness of what I was going through had caught up to me. I hadn’t really been feeding myself properly either, I suddenly remembered. Yeah. That must have been it.

So I put on a yellow sundress that was my mother’s in the hopes that its color would cheer me up and prepared myself to get some breakfast, because by now I felt like my insides were clawing at me, begging me to get something to fill the hole inside of me. As soon as I closed the door to the room I was sleeping in, that smell hit me again. The same one that had threatened to suffocate me last night. What the fuck was going on? How did this perfume open up my already animalistic appetite?

By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was certain I was wearing a scowl on my face, something I had never once before sported.

“Sweetheart…” Turning to my right, I found Bobby staring at me with a deep frown.

John’s P.O.V.

I watched Bobby try to get a hold of her from afar, and a small part of me felt smug about the fact that he feared what I would do if he touched what was mine. Then I remembered I didn’t care about this girl and made sure the best scowl I had was plastered on my face for when she looked at me.

It didn’t help that she smelled so… yummy. I wanted to eat her up whole. Still, I knew I couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Didn’t really want to - I forced myself to remember.

Fuck.

It had been too long since I’d had to deal with a mate and I forgot how strong the urge to bond can be. It didn’t help that this time I had two kids older than my omega trying not to laugh at me from behind their mugs.

“Stop that.” I slapped the back of Dean’s head, effectively making him spill a bit of coffee over his shirt, which in turn made me grin. Now we’re talking.

When my attention focused back on the girl and Bobby, they were a bit closer to each other, only on the other side of the living room, and they were talking in low voices. Suddenly, her eyes met mine and I felt it rise in me again, the need to pounce over there and dominate her.

But then she focused back on Bobby and I was left confused.

He was obviously explaining to her what had happened and that we were mates, so why didn’t she seem bothered by it? In fact, she looked as far from it as possible. If her expression was anything to go by, she was… bored?

Before long, they approached us again, and I was expecting her to throw herself at me or at least to acknowledge me as her mate in any way. That’s what I was prepared for. I knew what I was going to say to let her down as gently as possible. But what actually happened is that she went around the table and directly into the kitchen, turning on the stove.

“How about eggs and bacon for breakfast? Does anyone want some?” I swear I could hear fucking crickets singing outside, despite the fact that it was early morning. Was she really going to completely ignore me? “Hello? Eggs, bacon, answer me or you won’t be fed.” My boys jumped to action at the threat and I tried to make sense of what was happening while forcing myself to ignore just how cute she looked with her head tilted and a hand on her hip.

She cooked in silence then, not even granting me a look. I was beyond surprised by now. What the hell was I supposed to do about this?

As the plate of breakfast was laid in front of us, she took her seat next to Bobby, which just so happened to be to my left, but even then, she didn’t even glance at me, opting to munch on her food quietly. I took notice of the fact that she had a healthy appetite, instead of being one of those girls who tried to diet for the sake of impressing men, but my mind was still all over the place.

“Aren’t you going to say anything to me?” The minute the words escaped my mouth, whatever conversation my boys had been trying to maintain with Bobby immediately died down. Still, she didn’t look at me. The little girl had the nerve to seem unfazed by my presence and my question, even my irritation. She didn’t even raise her eyes to meet mine when she responded.

“Why should I?” The question caught me off guard, and the silence that followed revealed it to her. When no one intervened to break the ice, she chanced a glance up, her beautiful bright eyes meeting mine, and she sighed, at last dropping her cutlery before straightening up to talk to me.

“I’m sorry if that came off rude, but the truth is… It’s very clear that you have absolutely no interest on me as an Alpha, and since it is your responsibility to take care of me, even if it was to let me down gently, I don’t see why I’m the one who has to take your feelings into consideration and pay you the attention you didn’t grant me.”

God fucking damnit. She was already the most interesting woman I’d met in a very long time, and when I say a very long time, I mean way before she was born, when my wife - my first true mate - was still alive.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

John looked at a loss for words, and I took that as an indication that I could continue my meal without further idiotic demands. “Would you pass me the coffee, please?” I asked, pointing in the direction of the thermos, my eyes focused on my eggs. Dean reached out and poured some in my mug, which granted him a grateful smile.

“It’s huh… It’s very good coffee. Bobby tells me you’re the one who taught him how to make it like this.” That made me chuckle, and I chanced an amused glance to my godfather.

“Strong, you mean? Yeah, it’s the only way I know how to drink it.” Another uncomfortable silence. My absolute most hated thing. I quickly swallowed whatever food was left in my plate before pushing my chair away from the counter. “I have some stuff to do in the backyard… Leave the plates in the sink and I’ll clean them up when I get back. It was nice meeting you.” I nodded in their direction, stopping only to give a quick kiss on Bobby’s forehead, and left without another word or glance.

I was only able to breathe again when the back door was closed behind me and I was already a few good feet from the house. Fuck. Suddenly, I felt the urge to cry, and I knew that despite the distress I had been put under the last few days, it wasn’t only the death of my father or the refusal from my mate that was making me sad. It was those stupid omega hormones, trying to force me to go back there and beg for a forgiveness I didn’t really want.

Stupid fucking nature. I was stronger than that. I had to be. Even I had enough pride to stop me from throwing myself at the feet of someone who doesn’t want me.

I tried to distract myself from whatever the hell could be going on inside the house while taking care of the few things I could do outside of it. Granted, there wasn’t much. But anything was better than being stuck in that place, having to smell that mixture of gunpowder, scotch and cinnamon that made my head twirl. Fucking John Winchester and that delicious musk of his. I didn’t fucking need him.

It was with that thought that I popped open the hood of one of the cars Bobby and I had been working on, trying to focus on something other than my stupid body and its stupid wishes. After a few minutes of actually forcing myself to do so, I was finally able to zone out of my real-life drama and get lost in the world of carburetors and grease.

“Have you figured out what’s the problem with the engine?” The familiar voice brought a smile to my face, despite all of my current circumstances, and I found myself whipping around to stare at the boy towering over me.

“Jess!” The young beta smiled at me, always as excited to see me as I was. He’d been living near Bobby for years now, and I’d watched him grow up throughout my visits to my godfather. Now, despite being a year younger than me, he stood five inches taller, towering over my figure whenever he stood near.

“Hey there! Visitors?” He nodded towards the Impala, and I gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Something like that. Bobby had some… friends over last night, and those are the only ones left. They’re supposed to be leaving soon enough, though.” I returned my attention to the car’s motor but the lack of sound from my usually chipper companion made me raise my gaze up to him once more. “What?” I inquired, inadvertently already smiling as I waited for his question.

“Do you hate them or what?” Chuckling, I crouched to search for one of my tools before going back to work on the engine.

“Why the question?” I didn’t really mind answering it, I was always just curious about how Jess’ mind worked. I wanted to know if I had any major tells. As someone who had seen me practically every day for the last month, could he see that I’d met my mate? Had that encounter changed me somehow?

“You don’t seem very happy to talk about them. And you’re usually excited about everything and everyone.” The idea he had of me made me snort. I tended to be someone who saw the brighter side of life, that was true, but after my father’s death, I didn’t really think I’d been able to keep up that appearance. Guess I was wrong.

“I suppose you’re right.” That’s all I said, sending a quick smile his way before returning to the task at hand. Jess helped, giving me the tools I needed when I asked for them, and I absentmindedly listened to him babble about his last year of highschool as I kept my focus on my manual work.

It was one of the reasons why I liked to help Bobby so much. When I was fixing a car, even if it was just a simple job, my mind was occupied with something else entirely. It was like my own form of meditation, only a bit dirtier.

I was almost able to forget about John Winchester and his stupid scent. Almost. If it weren’t for the periodical cramps that I tried to ignore in order not to alert my company - I definitely didn’t want to talk about it with Jess - I supposed I would have been able to forget about the Winchester men before they disappeared from my life forever.

That was, of course, until they left the house and gathered in the Impala, catching the attention of my very hyper friend. “Oh, wow. Those are Bobby’s friends? I can smell them even from here.

A very unattractive snort escaped me, and it caught Jess’ attention. “Tell me about it.”

“Oh, did they try to disturb you?” I had to smile to myself at how cute he sounded, so defensive for me.

“Not really. I’m just glad that they’re gone.” And with one last look over my shoulder, just in time to watch John back up the Impala and leave, I added, “I hope I’ll never have to see them again.”

Chapter ii ➡

#john winchester reader #john winchester x reader #john winchester reader insert #john winchester fanfiction #john winchester fan fiction #john winchester oneshot #john winchester au #john winchester imagine #john winchester imagines #my series

149 notes · View notes

phykios · 4 years ago

Text

volcano kiss scene but make it medieval, for @perseannabeth 💙 note that this is little more than a fancy rewrite, but... marble king verse is too good to be done with completely

***🌊***🌊***🌊***

June, 1446

As Percy led his little band of adventurers through the tunnels of the Labyrinth, himself, his questing partner Ana Zabeta, his childhood companion Aegidius, and his half-brother, the cyclops Tison, following a marvelously clever creation of the god of fire, he allowed himself, for a brief moment, to feel a small sense of pride. They had finally located a deity who not only did not appear to have any negative designs on their characters, but had also promised them his help--after they had performed him a small favor, of course.

Hephaestus had fashioned for them a little spider made of metal, who moved about as though it had a beating heart, darting this way and that, nearly invisible, were it not for their torchlight flickering off its shiny, shiny legs. Though he would never speak it aloud, Percy felt a particular kind of pride on Annabeth’s behalf, as she followed the eight-legged creature with neither complaint nor fear. He knew full well just how totally she detested the beasts, her eternal and forsworn enemies, just as their mother had been an enemy of Athena.

They rounded a corner, moving from a passageway lined with a strange, shiny substance which felt cool to the touch to one of crudely-cut stone, when he spotted a tunnel off to the side, dug from raw earth, wrapped in thick roots which pried their way through the holes in the stones. Aegidius had noticed it as well, slowing his pace until he stopped entirely in front of the dark, gaping maw in the wall. “Aegidius,” Percy said, stopping as well. “What is it?”

It was as if he had not heard him. The satyr merely gazed into the black tunnel, his curly hair rustling in an impossible breeze.

“We cannot delay!” said Annabeth. “We must keep moving!”

“This is the way,” Aegidius muttered, hushed and reverent. “It is here.”

He couldn’t possibly mean… “The way to Pan?”

But Aegidius ignored him, turning instead to Tison, the creature whose very nature often rendered him speechless with fear. “Do you not smell it, too?”

“Yes,” said Tison. “Earth. The forest.”

Before them, the spider skittered further down the stone corridor. If they delayed any further, the trail would be lost to them.

“Once we have finished our errand for Hephaestus,” said Annabeth, “then we can return for Pan, I swear it.”

“The tunnel will have gone by then,” said Aegidius, with a confidence Percy had rarely seen before. “A door such as this will not remain open for long--and I must enter it.”

“But,” she said, desperate, “the forges!”

He looked at her sadly, but firmly. “I cannot go with you this time, Annabeth.”

Percy had forgotten--Aegidius was not only his companion. He had been Annabeth’s as well. He had been responsible for seeing her safely over the magical boundary in Sigeion. But the spider was nearly out of sight, and they could not tarry any longer before the gateway to the god. “We will continue to the forges,” he decided. “Aegidius, you go on to seek Pan.”

“No!” she gasped. “It is far too dangerous. If we part ways, we might never find each other again! And I cannot let you go alone.”

It was then that Tison, gentle creature he was, put his hand on Aegidius’ shoulder. As much fear as satyrs held for cyclops, Tison, for some odd reason, held just as much, if not more, for the satyrs. They had made an amusing pair at times, two of the sweetest, kindest people Percy had ever known, cowering in fear at the other. But Tison showed no fear now. Now, he was brave. “I shall go with him.”

Percy could not believe his ears. “You will?”

He nodded. “The satyr needs help. We shall find the god of the wild--together.”

Aegidius took a deep, steadying breath. “I wish I could see this through to the end with you, but--”

“I understand,” said Percy. The search for Pan was his life’s goal, the final prize in a quest which had taken his father, his father’s father, and so many searchers before him. If he did not succeed on this journey, the Council of Cloven Elders would never give him another chance. “I pray that you are right.”

Shoulders square, suddenly possessed of a confidence Percy had rarely ever seen from him, save for when he deliberated on how keftedes paled in comparison to spanakopita, he grinned. “I know that I am.”

Percy took a heartbeat to gaze on him one last time, imprinting him in his memory--just in case. “Be careful,” he told him. Then, he looked towards Tison, and opened his arms to his half-brother, who went into them willingly, squeezing Percy so strongly his eyes just about burst from his sockets.

Tison and Aegidius then disappeared into the darkness of the tree roots, lost to the wild.

“This was a mistake,” said Annabeth, her voice trembling. “We should not have let them go.”

“We will see them again,” Percy replied, attempting to summon Aegidius’ confidence. “Now, come on. The spider will not wait for us any longer.”

“Do not remind me,” she said, shuddering.

Before very long, the tunnel grew warmer, the stone walls red and glowing. The air felt as though they were walking through a giant oven, as though they had been transported into one of the forges beneath the villa for Hephaestus’ children, and he supposed, in a way, that they had. The tunnel sloped down, deeper into the earth, the spider nearly tripping over itself to reach the bottom, Annabeth right behind it.

Percy jogged to catch up. “Annabeth!” he called. “A moment?”

She glanced back at him, but did not cease her quick pace, forcing Percy to match her. “Yes?”

“I have a… question,” he panted, “regarding what Hephaestus… said, about your mother.”

“She swore never to marry,” Annabeth said, easily. Curses, Annabeth did not appear to be even remotely out of breath. He felt like such a fool compared to her, always. “She is one of the maiden goddesses, alongside Artemis and Hestia.”

Percy frowned. He had not recalled that detail about the war goddess--though, he was rather infamous for nodding off during lessons. Perhaps he had simply slept through that particular lesson. “But, if she is a maiden goddess, then--”

“How is it she came to have demigod children?”

Blushing, he nodded.

Now, this was not at all appropriate conversation, he knew. Young boys and girls were not meant to discuss such things with each other--not yet anyway. But Percy was nearly a man, and besides, he had spent enough time with Carlos and the older boys at the agoge to pick up a few pieces of knowledge here or there. Hopefully, Annabeth would think the flush on his cheeks was due to the heat of the cavern.

“Do you know how Athena was born?” she asked him.

“She was born from… the head of Zeus? In armor?”

“Precisely. She was literally born from his thoughts--and thus, her children are born the same way. When Athena falls in love with a mortal partner, it is a purely intellectual affair, just as it was with Odysseus in the epic tales. Our mother says that it is the truest kind of love.”

“So,” said Percy, frowning. “Your father and Athena… you were not--”

“I was born from their minds,” she interrupted, quickly. “Sprung from the divine thoughts of my mother and the mortal ingenuity of my father. Her children are gifts, blessings on the mortals she favors.”

“But--”

She turned to him, exasperated. “Percy, the spider has nearly vanished. Do you really wish for me to explain the precise details of my birth?”

Flushing even harder, he snapped his jaw shut.

Victorious again, she smirked. “I thought not.”

Running ahead to catch their guide, Percy followed, very neatly put in his place, and not certain he would ever be able to look at his friend the same way ever again. Some things, he decided, were perhaps better left as mysteries.

After another few minutes or so, they emerged into a cavern, larger than any stadium Percy had ever seen. It felt to be five times the size of the mighty Colosseum. There was no floor, just miles of bubbling lava beneath their feet. Standing on a rock ride which encircled the cavern, Percy saw a complex, overlapping network of metal bridges spanning the width of it, meeting on a huge platform in the center which housed the largest anvil he had ever seen, a block of iron the size of a villa. Dark, strange shapes moved about them, like formless shadows, too far away to discern what manner of creature they might be.

“We cannot sneak up on them,” said Percy, noting the distinct lack of places to hide with some despair.

With a slight grimace, Annabeth picked up their metal guide, its form having changed to a small ball, and slipped it into a fold in her dress. “I can. Wait here.”

“Hang on--” But Percy was too late, as Annabeth put on her magical cap, a gift from her mother, and vanished from his sight.

Percy cursed. He did not dare call after her, not willing to draw attention to her tactics, but nor did he appreciate the idea of her approaching the forge on her own. If those creatures could repel the likes of Hephaestus, what hope did Annabeth have? It was not safe. She was their leader--they could not risk her life. Percy would not risk her life.

Alas, he could never sit still for very long. Creeping along the outer rim of the lake of molten rock, he darted from stalagmite to stalagmite as best he could, hoping to find a better vantage point. Really, Annabeth should have known better.

The heat was horrendous, heavy and oppressive. Drenched in sweat, and eyes stinging with smoke, he moved along, staying as far from the edge as was physically possible, until he found his way stopped by a large metal box, fitted on wheels. Peering inside, he saw it was full scrapped metal, bits and bobs of broken swords and lumpy shields, piled on top of one another. Nothing he could reasonably use for an extra weapon, or even some kind of defense. Making to squeeze himself around it, he suddenly heard from up ahead a voice, rough and grating, speaking an ancient language which no man alive had heard for a thousand years.

Monsters, he knew.

There was no time to run away, no place to hide… except for the box. Leaping inside, covering himself with a dented aspis, he curled his fingers around his father’s sword, that blade Anaklusmos, hissing as the sharp metal of his bed cut between the soft parts of his armor, biting his tongue so no curse could escape.

With any luck, the monsters would pass him by, and he could continue along unmolested.

That was when, of course, that the box lurched forward, pushed along by the monsters, carrying Percy along with it. Malaka! Was he about to be tipped into a smelting pot?

All around him, he heard the chatter of terrible beasts. He was not so skilled in the ancient tongue as Annabeth, but even he could recognize a few words here or there, “weapon” and “cyclopes” and “furnace,” and some names as well: Zena, hissed with scorn, Posidaota, spat with bile, and, most chillingly of all, Kronos, spoken with reverence and awe.

Percy blinked against the sudden light as his cover was removed from his person, revealing himself to the monster, who was so taken aback by his presence, that it blinked back at him in return. For a few moments, neither of them moved, so shocked were they by the other’s sudden appearance. Then, springing into action, Percy slashed upwards, dissolving the beast in a cloud of golden smoke. Snatching up another shield and leaping from his bed of spikes, he saw with his preternatural vision a small army of at least twenty monsters, black like dogs, but with sleek, shiny skin, and legs which looked to be more suited for swimming than scrambling around the rocks of Aitne.

With a hearty battle-cry and another wide swipe, he repelled the front row of these creatures, carving himself some space to jump, sprinting for the mouth of the tunnel. The monsters followed after him, baying and growling as a pack of ravenous wolves, and they would have caught him, tearing him to pieces, had they been but a little bit faster. Thinking quickly, at the top of the tunnel, Percy hurled his shield into a column, the rocks crumbling upon impact, burying the monsters and blocking off the path with a great, noisy cave-in.

He doubted it would keep them trapped for very long. Not only that, he very much doubted that they had been the only monsters in the cavern. Percy had just announced his presence to anyone who might have been listening, destroying their chance for any sort of subtle reconnaissance.

And Annabeth was still out there, somewhere, invisible.

“Annabeth!” He yelled, running towards the platform at the center of the ocean of lava. “Annabe--!”

An invisible hand clamped over his mouth, wrestling him down behind a large, bronze cauldron. “Silence! Do you mean to have us killed?”

Arms flailing, he managed to locate her head, slipping off her cap of invisibility. She shimmered into view as an island emerging from the mist, scowling and covered in ash and grime. “It’s far too late for that,” he said, grimly. “I came upon a group of monsters, and brought the roof crashing down on them.”

Hissing curses, her hands clenched, as though she meant to strangle him, before she visibly managed to control her temper. “You said there were monsters?”

He nodded. “I know not what kind. I had thought they may have been dogs, were it not for their flippered feet and human hands, adorned with claws. They spoke of furnaces and weapons, making arms for the first Titanomachy.”

“Telkhines,” she gasped, eyes wide. “Of course! I should have known. I had wondered when I saw… well, look.”

Together they peered over the lip of the cauldron. In the center of the platform stood four of these demons, larger than any Percy had seen before, standing at least the size of a fully grown man. Their black, scaly skin glistened in the light of the fire as they labored, sparks flying between mighty hammer strikes on a long piece of glowing, hot metal, hissing to each other in the ancient language. “What are they saying?” he whispered to her. If he could not understand them, Annabeth surely would.

“They are talking of fusing metals,” she said, frowning. “Other than that, I--I cannot say.”

“Is that bad?”

She stared at him, incredulous. “The telkhines betrayed the gods,” she said, “for practicing dark magics. For their transgressions, Zeus banished them to Tartaros.”

“Alongside Kronos.”

She nodded. “We must return to Hephaestus at once--”

But no sooner had she spoken than a sharp, clawed hand pierced its way through the rubble of Percy’s cave-in, pushing aside the rocks which blocked its path, followed closely by its snout, teeth long and sharp and dripping with saliva. “You must return to the god,” Percy said, moving into a crouch. “Leave me here.”

“What?” she shrieked. “No! I will not leave you!”

At any other time, he would have praised her for her courage, but not now. “You must! Let me distract the monsters, and perhaps the spider can lead you back through the Labyrinth. You are the leader of this quest--you must take the message back to Hephaestus.”

“But you’ll be killed!”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, turning to face her. “As well, there is no other choice.”

She glared at him, her lips pulled back almost in a snarl worthy of one of the monsters. He knew this look of hers well--it was the one she wore whenever she considered hitting him for his foolishness.

But rather than hit him, she did something which shocked him even more.

She grasped the collar of his tunic, pulled him close, and kissed him. “Be careful, phykios,” she murmured against his lips, breath hot. Then she put on her cap, and vanished.

Percy couldn’t breathe, and not for the smoke. Had it not been for the lava, the monsters, the weapon, the quest, he would have been quite content to sit there all day, thinking of nothing but the softness of her mouth and the way her eyes sparkled in the firelight, unable to even recall his own name.

A sea demon screamed, jolting him back into reality.

The horde of monsters, freed from their prison, charged across the bridge towards him. Percy scrambled up from the ground, running for the middle of the platform, startling the large monsters so thoroughly that they dropped the red-hot blade over which they labored. It was as long as they were tall, curved like a crescent moon, its shape burning into his vision, sending shivers down his spine.

Unfortunately for Percy, the monsters recovered quickly from their shock. Every which way he turned, his exit was blocked by a small army, surrounding him. Cutting him off.

Raising Anaklusmos, he prayed that they could not see the blade shaking.

“Son of Poseidon,” rasped a demon, speaking Percy’s own language now. “We are honored by your visit, fish-blood.”

He spread his senses, casting about for an escape, but there was none. He was trapped.

“Will you strike us down, half-blood?” asked another one. “An you try, the rest of us shall tear you to shreds.” Licking its lips, it advanced on him, claws glinting in the glow of the forge. “Perhaps we shall deliver you to your father in pieces--an omen of the horror we shall visit upon him, and all the rest of the twelve, for their betrayal.”

Annabeth would not have allowed herself to be cornered this way, but Percy was no strategist. If the gods favored him at all, they would have seen to Annabeth’s escape, leaving him to his doom.

Was this to be his doom, he wondered? Trapped in the heart of a volcano, overrun by monsters which would use his bones to pick their teeth?

The tallest of the demons plunged its hand into the furnace, scooping a handful of molten rock. “Let us see the might of Olympus,” it said, grinning. “Let us see how long it takes him to burn!” And it threw the lava at Percy.

Dropping his sword, he swatted at his clothes which had been set alight, as though he had merely had an unfortunate run-in with the lava trap at the agoge, but it was not nearly enough, the fire engulfing him with each passing second. At first, oddly, it had only felt warm, though it grew hotter and hotter with every heartbeat.

“Your father’s nature protects you,” one monster sneered. “Makes you hard to burn. But not impossible, fish-blood. Not impossible.”

Later, Percy would struggle to remember the particulars. He would recall only the fire, and the pain. He would not remember how he crumpled to the floor in deepest agony, the sea demons howling in delight at his terror.

Nor would he remember the voice of the naiad at the farm of the giant Geryon. The water is within me, she had said.

Between waves of torment, there was a tugging sensation in his gut, calling vainly for water where there was none: not a river, nor a stream, nor even a petrified seashell. Percy called for the sea, the towering waves which could wash away villages, the currents which could destroy ships in a single blow, the endless power of the ocean, and he called for these things inside of himself, letting it loose in one terrible, horrible scream.

Fire and water collided, a typhoon of unearthly power shooting him up from the beating heart of Aitne on wings of superheated steam, peeling his skin away, another piece of flotsam flung from the earth by the force of the blast. Higher and higher he flew, further than Icarus, than Bellerophon, than Zeus himself, so high that the lord of the heavens would not be able to reach him--and then he fell, a shooting star, hurtling towards the sea which would not save him. Not this time.

#aegidius = grover btw #the marble king #perseannabeth #my fic #darkmagyk #pjo #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #marble timestamps

43 notes · View notes

stepintomyvoid · 4 years ago

Text

A Deeper Understanding [Newt Scamander x reader]

A/N: Yes this is me, trying fanfiction again. I haven’t written a single word in like 3 years or sth? But whateveeeer I’ve been really inspired by the Harry Potter Universe again, so here we go. Also please excuse any grammatical errors! English is only my second language, so please be gentle haha! But if you like this stuff, please please tell me! I’m super anxious about my writing, but I will of course take constructive criticism.

Warnings: not really anything, it’s fluffy and a bit angsty, mention of death

Word Count: 2721

“I wonder, Mr Scamander, is that really the fitting pair of shoes for those trousers?”, you smirked, carrying a large bucket of feed for the mooncalves. The golden haired man looked up, following your body as you walked past him. He was crouched down, tying his oak-brown leather shoes. The right corner of his mouth twitched a bit, almost indicating a smile. But he stayed silent, keeping his amusement to himself.

His silence jabbed your mood a bit but you shrugged it off. You had helped him for a few months now, assisting in caring for his beautiful creatures. To you, it felt like years. But your relationship went back even farther. Your first time meeting the shy Newt Scamander was your first year in Hogwarts. You, a muggle-born witch, were still adjusting to the new wizard world upon you. You had just been sorted into your Hogwarts House the day before and walked around the castle, aimlessly, just taking it all in. When you bumped into a Hufflepuff sitting cross-legged on the floor with some small creature in his hands. That’s when you met and forgot again. He was a little too awkward, you were a little too lost. It was just a random encounter and nothing came out of it. You didn’t even know his name back then.

Years later, you saw a certain Erumpent, an indeed breathtaking rhinceros which looked like it had actual lava in his horn, roaming around in Central Park in New York, the location of your Christmas vacation. This was your second encounter. Upon seeing this giant creature galopp through the winterly landscape, you left immediately; only years later you learned that the one and only Newt Scamander was there too. Not only that, he was responsible for it. All of your friends called you insane and laughed your encounter off like it never happened.

You actually met the young Mr Scamander in one of his readings about Magical Creatures in London, he was talking about Thestrals. He described these skinny black horses with skeletal bodies as elegant and gentle, he said they were calm but at the same time so very powerful. How he talked about every creature in the same loving way fascinated you from the beginning.

“But their beauty can only be seen by very view”, he said. He just sat on a small chair in front of a small crowd in a library. Not a lot of people were interested in his liberal views. But you adored him. The way the golden sunlight, broken by the dirty window glass, shined on his left side, the few times he actually looked up from the floor and a passionate smile grew on his face, you couldn’t stop listening. “You see, only those who saw death can see a Thestral. But many mistake this description for its literal definition. To see a Thestral, one needs to-“

You raised your hand. The brown-haired curls looked up. Almost startled by your action, he exclaimed a “yes?”. “One needs to have a deeper understanding of death, rather than just being a witness.” You blushed immediately as the small crowd turned around to look at you. “Right?”, you added shyly. He nodded.

After the reading, Newt stood up immediately, almost fleeing the building. You ran after him. “Uhm, Mr Scamander! Mr Scamander! I, uh...”, you called. He stopped to turn around. “Yes, can I help you?”, he asked politely, his gaze on the ground. He shortly looked up to study your expression. “I know, this must seem...strange. But I just wanted to apologize for interrupting your reading. I’m sorry if that seemed impolite”, you said with a hopeful smile.

“Oh”, he paused. “No, don’t worry. I’m just not... uh, used to people knowing or even caring about Thestrals. Most of them find them rather grim, I believe”, he smiled, looking into your eyes again for a few seconds. His blue eyes shimmered hazel in the afternoon sun. “I must excuse myself. I have to feed the mooncalves, I wish you a nice day”, he nodded and was on the verge on turning around again, you reached out, almost gripping his coat to stop him. “Mr Scamander, if I may, would I be able to help you with that? You don’t have to say yes, I just...I would love to learn more. One can only read so much in books”, you chuckled. He turned to you again, looking shocked again.

“Don’t feel obligated”, you added. “You are most welcome to. I can always use some help. Excuse my hesitation, this has never happened to me before”, he laughed, “if you follow me?”

And that’s how you found yourself visiting Newt Scamanders suitcase every day since then. You were a good team. And once he opened up to you more, joked around every now and then, you felt more comfortable around him as well. But still, there was always this thick wall between you emotionally. Neither one of you shared too many personal memories with each other. You enjoyed each other’s company dearly, you did. But something always kept you from being closer. Even though, from time to time, there were moments where the freckled man could make your heart jump like you’ve never felt before.

“Need help with that?” you asked one day as Newt was brewing a potion to treat the stomach ache of one of the Diricawls. You stood behind him, your hands on his shoulders, so you could look over him on your tip-toes. He turned his head a bit so he could see your face in the corner of his eyes, he blushed. “I’m good”, he said like a whisper. “Ugh, shut up and let me help you”, you scoffed and pulled out your wand. A few circular swings with your wand and the brown-ish fluid in the dark kettle started bubbling softly. “There you go, sweetie”, you said and patted his shoulder blades roughly. “No one is better at potions than you, Y/N”, he grinned slightly as he turned around to face you, his hands on the table behind him. “I know”, you winked at him. He broke the eye contact, his red-brown locks fell into his face, failing to hide his blushing cheeks. There it was again, that feeling. His shyness when you called him sweetie or honey drove you crazy. Officially you might have been completely platonic but his hidden smirks and chuckles made your insides burst.

And then, one fateful Decembre evening, everything changed.

“Y/N? You mind doing me a favour? You can say no of course... but... I’d... I’d love to have you there”, he smiled, his eyes darker than usual. You were just finishing up and about to leave but him asking you with this kind expression was a turn of events. “Uh, sure. What do you need me to do?”

Only about twenty minutes later you found yourself standing on the edge of a small lake surrounded by a pine forest at almost midnight. It was a bit chilly even for you, you lifted your shoulders, covering your face in your scarf. “Are you cold?”, Newt asked kneeling on the edge of the water, his wand in his hand, a worrying look on his face. He looked so pale in the blue light. “It’s alright”, you smiled at him. “Mr Scamander, if I may ask, what exactly are we doing here?”, you crossed your arms looking around. The forest was dark and cold, it looked utterly uninviting. Before you, the light blue lake reflected the moonlight and made for a calm atmosphere. It was almost completely silent. Your breath was visible in front of you and in that moment you wished, you had worn a thicker jumper.

“Looking for Kelpies, of course, Ms Y/L/N.”

“Of course”, you scoffed to yourself. Your gaze wandered across the water, it was quite peaceful.

“Couldn’t this wait `til the morning?”, you asked stepping closer to the lake.

“Sadly, no”, he then went on a rant on how this time was very important to get a good look at a Kelpie because they’re the friendliest when the sea is the coldest. You tried to distract yourself from the freezing cold by listening closely. But as you looked over to the other side of the lake, you made out a black creature drinking in the lake. Your eyes widened. A slender four-legged creature with a slim neck. It seemed, as if the creature could sense your staring and its head shot up, looking directly at you. Like a startled deer, you couldn’t look away. It was a Thestral.

“Newt!”, you whispered, keeping your eyes locked on the horse-like creature. “Newt!”, you said again with a bit more intensity. You couldn’t see but he turned around to look at you, saw your mesmerized face and looked into the same direction. “What is it? Did you see something?”, he asked, not moving a muscle. “It’s a... a Thestral, Newt. I can’t believe it. It’s so... beautiful”, you said slowly, still not blinking. The black skeleton moved around a bit, its coat shimmering blue in the night.

“What?”, Newt asked. He slowly stood up. He looked back and forth a few times. “Y/N?”, he said with a soft voice.

“Newt, don’t move! Look at it, it’s majestic”, you said with a wide smile. “Y/N-“, he tried again. “What is it? It’s right over there. Can’t you see it?”, you said with a hushed voice as to not spook the creature.

“No, actually, I can’t... see it”, Newt admitted. As you looked at him for the first time in minutes, you realized, he was a lot closer than you thought. Slowly you realized what this meant. Your smile faded. Newt had a painful expression on his face, covering it up with a weak smile to make you feel better. Of course, only you could see the Thestral. Because only you had witnessed death. Flashes of memories flooded your brain. You looked down brushing your hand through your hair.

“I’m sorry, Y/N”, he said as if he thought this would make it better. For the first time, his eyes never left you. “It was my Mum”, you said huskily, “she uh... passed, twelve years ago.”

Tears started clouding your vision as more and more memories came back again. You witnessed your Mum’s death. But how it happened was so horrible that you could not dare to speak it out loud.

Newt came another step closer and lightly squeezed your arm in comfort. He wanted to make it all ok again. Both of you didn’t say another word. You didn’t need to. For a moment you looked up into his eyes before he hesitantly pulled you into a hug. His arms were wrapped around your waist. Even through several layers of clothes you could feel his warmth against your chest. He smelled like apple pie and cider. Your arms around his neck, he was pulling you close to him, breathing into your shoulder. At that moment, you felt so vulnerable, like you would break any second and his strong grip was the only thing holding you together. He was stronger than you expected. His hands on your back, he pushed you closer to him. And there was nothing you wanted more than to kiss him right in this moment. He had never touched you like that, so intimate and strong.

Slowly his grip loosened, leaving you immediately cold again. Your hands slowly slid down his neck but stayed at his cheeks. You cupped his face looking at his dark blue eyes sparkling. His freckles were almost invisible, varnished with a red colour. His hands stayed at your hips, his thumb lightly brushing over you. You pulled his head down softly and he followed willingly. The amber curls tickled your forehead and you felt a soft hand cupping your cheek. You were only milimetres away from each other, so close, you breathed the same air. The heat was almost unbearable.

“Y/N...”

“Don’t...”, you mumbled. Your foreheads touched lightly. “Y/N, I...”, he began again. You gripped the hair at the back of his head to keep him close. His fingers ran through your hair as his other hand slid up your back. Your lips wanted his. You were breaking under his every touch.

A sudden water splash from the lake ripped you from your moment. Both of you turned to the lake, a dark shimmering creature had risen from the depths of the water. As fast as it appeared, it was gone again. The few water drops you felt, cooled your heated cheeks rather quickly. Newt rushed to the edge of the water, “did you see that?!”, he exclaimed. “Yea”, you gulped, still shook by what just happened. After looking at the water surface for what felt like hours, Newt turned around again looking at you, standing there like a beaten dog. You didn’t dare to say anything. What would you even say? Why didn’t he say anything?

The rest of the night both of you kept pretty much silent. You had never felt this unsure in your life. Normally, Newt was the shy and awkward one but he just turned your world around. The next few days you barely talked, still processing your moment the other night.

Until, you just couldn’t keep it in anymore. Without a warning you blurted out: “Tell me, how you feel about me.”

Newt, who was sorting plants as of right now, turned around with wide eyes. “What...”, he said slowly. “Tell me”, you repeated. “Who am I to you.”

He just stared at you without making a noise for a few moments before looking back at the ground, avoiding your gaze. “What... what do you mean by... by that?”, he stuttered, still looking down.

“Newt, come on. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t... I just can’t keep working here acting like everything’s normal, when it’s not... it’s really not”, you said walking around rubbing your forehead. “What’s wrong?”, he asked innocently. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid question. Is it about your mother? I’m terribly sorry. If there’s anything I can do, just-“

“Stop”, you cut him off sharply. “Please don’t... don’t do that.”

“Do what?”, he asked, obviously confused now.

“Being all cute and innocent and nice and... and just... you”, you replied and looked up at him.

“What’s wrong? I don’t...”, he stammered trying to read you.

“Who am I to you”, you asked again standing right in front of him.

He didn’t reply. He just stared holes in the floor again. Your hands softly found his cheeks and you pushed his gaze up to look at you. His eyes struggled to look at you. But when his found yours, there was it again, the magic, the flicker, the nervous tingling feeling in your stomach. “Tell me”, you whispered. “Say something”, you said, followed by an endless feeling pause.

“You’re funny”, he whispered. You held your breath for a moment.

“And you’re smart... so clever.” You started grinning.

“You make me smile, you’re so good and full of light.” You rubbed your thumb over his cheek.

“You brew the best potions, better than anyone I’ve ever seen. And you’re just...”, he paused.

“You’re just so very beautiful.”

You let out a happy giggle, your hands sliding to his neck and gently twirling his locks with your finger. He couldn’t look into your eyes but you could see that he liked it.

“Your nose is very symmetric and you have a nice chin”, he added, raising his gaze and looking at you with those hazel puppy eyes. You started laughing.

“What?”, he shyed away. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have said that... I understand if you want to leave”, he said.

“Don’t you dare think that for one second, Mr Scamander”, you said with a wide grin. That’s when you pulled him closer and finally kissed him. Your lips met and Newt closed the gap between your bodies. He pushed himself against you. “That’s all I wanted to hear”, you pulled away for a brief moment, only to deepen the kiss quickly after saying that. You never wanted to let him go again.

Thank you so much for reading! <3

#newt scamander #newt scamander fanfiction #newt scamander x reader #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts fanfiction

172 notes · View notes

zi-i-think · 4 years ago

Note

Asfgh okay literally completely get you with the late Harry potter obsession and the Fred Weasley love. Was wondering if I could request a fluffy X reader one-shot where she's in slytherin/house neutral and tries to confess to Fred by going "well the guy I like is ginger, tall, sporty" etc and describes him perfectly and the dumbass thinks she's talking abt George and tries to set them up? Maybe w a cute ending where he figures it out? Thank you and have a lovely day!!💕

Assumption

AN: I was so excited to write this cause it was just such a cute idea. Hope you like it!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x gn! slytherin! reader

Word count: 1,800+

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Fred doesn’t get the hint when y/n basically confesses that they have feelings for him and sets up a date between the reader and his brother.

Y/n didn’t get nervous easily. They were usually quite confident, actually. Which is exactly why these newfound feelings for a well known Weasley were leaving them flustered and uncomfortable.

Y/n had always been friends with the twins, despite being in different houses. The trouble they caused and pranks they’ve pulled together made memories none of the three would forget. But y/n’s crush on the oldest of the two was starting to get in the way. Whenever they saw Fred in class or in the halls, it was like someone let loose a swarm of butterflies in their stomach. It was annoying, leaving them to resort to the only thing they considered reasonable. Avoiding Fred at all costs.

It wasn’t like y/n enjoyed spending less time with her friends. I’m actuality, it was lonely. Quiet. Uneventful.

Sitting in the library, y/n started out the window, looking out to the courtyard. They were supposed to be writing a potions essay, but two ginger heads caught her eye. The twins were hastily walking across the yard with mischievous grins. Likely planning another scheme.

A sigh fell from their lips as they rested their chin in the palm of her hand. Longing to chase after them and demand to be included. But the smile on Fred’s lips made those damn butterflies explode in y/n’s stomach yet again. And they stayed put in their sea and instead diverted their attention to their potions textbook and parchment.

Y/n stared at the pages. And stared. And stared. But they couldn’t bring themselves to read the book. They’re mind fixated on their situation.

What to do? That was the question. I can’t keep avoiding him. I miss my friends. What if…?

The thought of confessing came up. It wasn’t a terrible idea. Y/n supposed that if he felt the same, perhaps that darn giddy feeling would start to get more comfortable. And if he didn’t, well, then they’d just have to get over it. Easy peasy. Right?

Y/n rolled their eyes at their thoughts and sucked in a breath. Forcing themself to get back to the essay. After all. They shouldn’t be spending so much time worrying over a silly crush. Not when they had classes to pass.

Y/n didn’t see Fred until the next day as they walked to breakfast. The ginger was weirdly without his twin as he caught sight of his friend. Immediately, a smile formed on his lips as he jogged over to catch up with them.

“Well look who it is.” He laughed, wrapping his arm around y/n’s shoulders and pulling them to his side. Y/n jumped in surprise at the sudden intrusion. They knew exactly who it was just by the sound of his voice.

“Merlin, you almost gave me a heart attack.” Y/n scoffed in a playful manner and shoving off the arm around their shoulder. His touch was already making Y/n feel nervous. “Where’s George?” They realized that only one twin was present.

“Forgot to do his Charms homework. Trying to finish it up now.” He chucked, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked beside his friend. “We haven’t seen much of you lately. Care to explain?”

“You know. Trying to get schoolwork done.” Y/n shrugged their shoulders.

“That’s rubbish.” Fred chuckled, looking over at them with a curious look. But, y/n stayed silent. “Come one. You can talk to me.”

The thought came up again. Tell him the truth. So with a deep breath, y/n looked up at them and the two slowed their walking pace. “Alright.” They sighed with a nod. “Just promise that what I’m about to tell you won’t change anything.”

Fred furrowed his eyebrows and he only got more confused. “That’s awfully suspicious, but I promise.”

Y/n pulled Fred off to the side of the hall and took in a deep breath. “So, I’ve sort of been crushing on someone.” They started nervously.

Fred smiled widely and leaned his side on the wall. When y/n said that his interest was piqued. “Oh? Go on. Do I know them?”

“Yes, actually. Quite well, I’d say.” Y/n smiled, also leaning into the wall. “He’s tall, confident, incredible quidditch player too.” They listed.

“I don’t suppose he also had red hair and a knack for pranks.” Fred continued and y/n nodded softly. A knowing smirk grew on his face now. “I know exactly who you’re talking about.” He pointed.

“You do?” Y/n looked at him hopefully. Holding in a tiny breath.

“Of course I do.” He said confidently. Y/n grinned and straightened their posture, not really sure what to do now. “You know what. Be by the Great Lake tonight at 7:30.” He planed as walked backward, heading to his original destination.

“O- Okay.” Y/n agreed with a light laugh, trying to suppress just how happy they were. Fred sent them one more grin before finally turning around and heading off.

A blush crept onto y/n cheeks and they quickly covered their mouth with their hand. That uncomfortable, fluttery feeling stuck around. But now it wasn’t unwelcome.

A cold breeze swept by making y/n shiver and pull their jacket closer to themselves. They kept a small, excited smile as they walked towards the lake. Winter was quickly approving and the sun hung low in the sky. Its golden rays reflected off the water.

No one else was at the lake yet, leaving y/n alone as they waited for Fred. Taking a seat off to the side and leaning on a tree, y/n tossed stones into the water, occasionally looking back at the path, knowing he’d be coming down any moment from now.

Another stone plopped into the water just as the sound of crunching leaves grabbed y/n attention. “About time you showed up.” They called out before turning around and seeing a person they didn’t expect. “George?”

“Y/n?” He asked back, just as equally confused that y/n. “What are you doing here?”

Y/n crossed their arms over their chest and tilted their head. “Well, you’re brother told me to be here.”

George sighed and he shook his head. “Fred also told me to be here.”

“That makes no sense.” Y/n scoffed. A visible frown on their face as they tried to understand what they did wrong. Did Fred not want to break their heart so he sent George over instead? No, that’s not it. “Why would he-?” Y/n stopped midsentence, as they thought back to the conversation from before.

George still looked confused, raising his brows as he waited for y/n to continue with their sentence. “Well?”

“George, where might I find your brother?” Y/n asked him in a curious but also anxious tone.

“Gryffindor common room, most likely. Why?” He answered.

Y/n started walking back towards the castle with haste and George followed close behind them. “I need you to get me into the Gryffindor common room if you don’t mind.” They said, with a hoping look. The twins have given y/n the password before, but considering that it’s been some time since last joining them in the common room, y/n seems to have forgotten it.

“Alright, but do you want to tell me what this is all about?” The younger twin continued to try and cure his confusion.

“Your brother is an idiot.” Y/n answered simply and plainly.

George shrugged in agreeance. “Well, maybe you want to tell me something that I don’t already know.”

The Gryffindor room was usually pretty lively, especially on weekends. Upon entering the room full of Gryffindors, George and y/n were immediately greeted with warm hello’s. Y/n was never unwelcome from the Gryffindors, not for being a Slytherin. They were seen in the Gryffindor common room almost daily.

Fred looked over at the two and paused in his conversation with Angelina. Leaning into the armrest of the couch he shrugged. “You two are back early. How was the date?”

“Date?” Y/n scoffed. They sounded amused, but the look they gave him was pure annoyance and disbelief.

George’s face twisted in a sort of disgusted look. “Is that what that was meant to be?”

“Honestly Fred are you that dense?” Y/n grumbled. All of their intentions to speak to him and clear up the misunderstanding were starting to diminish.

The oldest twin furrowed his brow. “Well I thought-”

“Right, you never seem to think do you.” Y/n grumbled. The common room around them got significantly quiet as the curious students listened in to the bickering. Y/n glanced at the numerous eyes on them. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.” They sharply turned around, walking out of the Gryffindor room and back out into the hall.

Fred stared after them for a moment, not quite sure where he should go after them. “Well?” George got his attention. “Aren’t you going to go talk to them?”

The ginger nodded quickly and scurried off the couch and out into the halls. Y/n was already walking down the first set of stairs. “Y/n! Hold up.” He called and jogged down the stairs after them.

Y/n picked up their pace and clenched their fist. “Fred, I’m really not in the mood.” They replied with an annoyed tone.

“I noticed. I just wanted to help.” He finally caught up to them, and when he did, y/n stopped in their tracks to glare up at him.

“So you set me up on a date with your brother when I didn’t even know about it?” They snapped.

“I told you to be there. I assumed that you know what I was saying.”

“Well, you obviously assumed wrong. In that entire conversation, you assumed wrong.” Y/n stared up at him as they gathered the courage to be upfront and to avoid letting the older twin assume wrong again. “I was never talking about George, Fred. I was trying to confess that I like you.”

Fred stood there in disbelief for a moment. “You- You like me?” He said in a question.

“Yes.” Y/n huffed. “You’re just too damn thickheaded.” I relieved chuckled left teh ginger’s lips, only making the Slytherin glare at him even more. “Think this is funny, do you?”

“I’m just relieved.” He confessed. His hands went up to cup y/n’s cheeks and they didn’t move. Instead, they just stiffened at the touch, the fluttering feeling entering their stomach. “I never wanted you to go on a date with George, I just wanted to make you happy.”

Y/n scoffed, but their face softened and a smile grew on their lips. “You, Fred Weasley are-”

“An idiot?” He finished, stepping even closer to the Slytherin. “I know.” Y/n looked up at him with a sparkle in their eye.

“Well? Are you going to kiss me yet or are you just assuming that I don’t want one?” Y/n teased. Fred smiled widely as he leaned down to finally press a soft and longing kiss.

The nervous feeling that y/n felt slowly disappeared. They didn’t feel uncomfortable or flustered. But they still had that giddy feeling. And the fluttering butterflies never left.

#Fred weasley x reader #Fred Weasley #Harry Potter #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x y/n

215 notes · View notes

wiltingofthewhitelily · 3 years ago

Text

{Hetalia Platonic Ships Week 2021} Day 5: Partners in Crime - Latvia & Moldova

A/N: Submission #5 for @hetaliaplatonicshipsweek!

Sooo I was originally gonna do Sealand and Latvia for this one (or just a submission with these two in general), but then I thought this scenario would be funnier for a reason I'll talk about in the next paragraph sooo yeah. Plus, I like to think that Latvia and Moldova probably grew pretty close to each other during the Soviet Union days, seeing as they were the two "little ones" I suppose. (Although, in general, I do feel like Latvia would've hung around Estonia and Lithuania more, seeing how his age and maturity level are much closer to theirs than to Moldova's. But anyway.) I don't know...I just wanna see more content with these two cuties just being friends with each other ok??

For this one, two of my hcs are joining forces to create one (hopefully) pretty humorous little fic. These hcs are: one, Latvia is a pretty big prankster; and two, Moldova is a goody-two-shoes and is lowkey a tattletale (though not in a malicious way at all; he's just trying to be good). I do honestly really like the end result of this one, though I think I got a little carried away with this story and may have made some of the characters a little ooc in the process, sorry 'bout that lol.

Ok, enough with this long ass author's note and onto the fic-

»»————-　➴　————-««

Latvia raced to the back of a chair, crouching down low and hiding behind it while also trying to hide his intense giggles. He watched as Ukraine went up to the pot in which she'd been cooking some soup—the same soup where Latvia had dumped a spoonful of spicy sauce in beforehand.

The woman did just as the Latvian had wanted her to—she picked up a spoon and dipped it into the pot to do a small taste test. The curly-haired boy bit his lip as he watched. Soon enough, she set the spoon down hurriedly, let out a noise that was halfway between a yelp and a surprised whistle, and shortly after began to cough lightly.

Latvia had to place his face between his knees to silence his laughter, his small body beginning to shake. Any sort of enjoyment he could get in this hell house, he would one hundred percent strive to get—and pulling small pranks like this on all the residents inside of it was just what he needed to accomplish that.

Soon, Latvia heard tiny footsteps and then a voice: "What's wrong, Sestra?" Moldova.

Ukraine let out another whistle and answered, "I don't know, the soup was really spicy for some reason." Latvia almost let out another snort at this, but caught himself just in time.

The teen heard a few more words of soft chatter and then footsteps coming up close behind him. Then, a pause. Latvia could already tell it was Moldova and got a bit nervous. The little boy tended to be, for lack of a better word, a bit of a tattletale—he was afraid the child would somehow find out what he'd done and go rat on him.

Sure enough, Latvia heard Moldova pull the table curtain back and crouch down to Latvia's level. "What are you doing down here?" he immediately asked curiously, sitting down on his knees as well.

Latvia turned to him and put a finger over his lips, trying to tell him to quiet down a little. "I'm hiding."

"Why are you hiding?"

Latvia bit his lip. "I...did something."

"Did what?"

He internally grumbled. The kid wouldn't let up now, would he? Latvia thought it might be a little okay to tell Moldova—he was, admittedly, kind of eager to show off what he'd done, to somebody. Even if it wasn't that big of a prank (especially compared to some of the other masterpieces he'd done in the past), he still thought it was funny. Plus, he could probably easily stop Moldova from tattling—all he figured he'd have to do was give him candy or something. "Okay—I put some spicy sauce in the soup Ukraine was cooking. As a prank." He bit his lip to keep from letting out a big laugh.

Moldova was much less amused—in fact, he looked more confused than anything. "Why?" he asked, brows furrowed.

Latvia didn't really know what to say; he just shrugged. "...Because it's funny."

"But that's bad," the boy pointed out, his tone turning a bit stern.

The teen sighed. "Yeah, I know...but it's funny."

Moldova gave Latvia one more quizzical look before slowly standing back up. "Ses—"

Latvia caught him, pulling him back down and covering his hand over his mouth. "Moldova!" he whisper-scolded through gritted teeth. "No."

Moldova looked over at Latvia, eyes wide. Finally, the teen released his hand from his mouth. "Latvia," he asked, "why did you do that? I only wanted to tell Sestra."

"No!" he responded. "It's a prank—you can't just tell her."

Moldova cocked his head to the side. "A prank?"

"Yeah—it's supposed to be funny."

"Funny?" the little boy asked. "I like funny things. Pranks aren't supposed to be bad though, are they?"

Latvia looked up. "Well, kind of. I'm technically not allowed to pull them—but I do anyway." Despite himself, he giggled a little at this.

Moldova blinked. "Why?"

Latvia placed his palm up to his cheek—this kid really asked a lot of questions, didn't he? "Because it's funny."

"Well, I wanna have fun too." Moldova sat for a few moments, looking down, as if thinking. Then, he pursed his lips and motioned for Latvia to come closer, to which the teen did. "...I kind of wanna try a prank, just a little one," he whispered into his ear. "Not one that's too bad, though."

Latvia contemplated this a bit. It would be fun to have a small partner-in-crime to his mischief—especially one as young as Moldova, whom he could hopefully mold and shape to be his sort of sidekick. He grew a little smirk. "Okay."

Moldova gasped in delight and clapped his hands. "Yay! What should we do first, Latvia?"

Latvia rubbed his chin, before getting a good idea. "I've got it." He grabbed the Moldovan's small sticky hand. "C'mon, let's go."

»»————-　➴　————-««

"Okay, so you have to be very quiet before he comes—got it?"

"Mhm!" Moldova replied obediently, grinning from ear to ear at the older boy.

The two had placed one of Moldova's stuffed bears—the one that said I love you! when the stomach was pressed—on a seat at the dining room table, where Estonia was about to sit, as he was in the kitchen getting a cup of coffee and a newspaper. The hope was that he would be surprised by it and jump out of his seat. Nothing very exciting, Latvia knew that—it was mainly because Moldova had been very picky about what kind of pranks he wanted to pull, as most of the ones Latvia suggested were deemed 'too bad.'

The two boys watched from behind the door in the small office across from the dining room in anticipation. Soon enough, Estonia walked in and was about to sit in the chair he always sat in, the one containing the bear. He flopped his newspaper and prepared to sit down. Once his butt hit the bear, it activated that sickeningly-sweet high-pitched voice: I love you!

Startled, Estonia immediately sprang from his seat, gasping; he spilled his coffee all over the floor and his newspaper tumbled to the ground.

Latvia and Moldova began to cackle at this hilarious sight (still trying to keep their voices down, which was difficult); Latvia held out his hand for a high-five, which Moldova gladly accepted.

Estonia must've heard this, as amidst wallowing in the mess he'd just made, he crept over toward the door of the office, poking his head into it and seeing the two boys. He cocked an eyebrow. "...What are you two doing in here?"

Latvia was about to make up some petty excuse before Moldova spoke first: "Haha! Haha!" he exclaimed, still giggling. "You got pranked!"

Estonia was still a little confused until he realized: they must've set that bear down purposefully on the chair (he already figured Moldova had done it, though he'd thought the little boy had just accidentally left it there after playing with it). He then put his hands on his hips and grew a bit of an angry look on his face—they'd made him spill coffee on the floor and ruined his newspaper, for crying out loud! "Well," the Estonian began, "hate to say this, but you two are gonna be the ones to clean up the coffee."

Latvia had been laughing right along with Moldova, though when he heard Estonia say that he immediately grew a cross look as well. "Aw, no fair!" he argued. "You're the one who spilled the coffee! You clean it up!"

To his surprise, little Moldova backed him up. "Yeah, you clean it up, Estonia!"

Latvia looked down at the small boy and he couldn't help but crack a smile despite himself, thinking it was quite cute how he was mimicking him.

Estonia gave the two an annoyed glare. Latvia backtalking him wasn't really that out of the ordinary, but Moldova? The kid who literally asked every morning if he could take out the trash? Okay, now that was ridiculous. He groaned and, now out of options, he turned around and shouted, "Ukraine!" If there was anyone who would back him up and make the two clean up the mess, it was her.

Latvia clicked his tongue and immediately jumped up to run after Estonia, already complaining. Moldova hurried up and followed him, parroting him again.

Soon enough, the trio had all stormed over to Ukraine, who was sitting in the living room reading a book. She set the book down and got up as she began to hear their complaints, throwing her hands up in the air. "Goodness, what is going on here?" she asked.

Estonia shifted his glasses and began to speak, now gaining his composure and standing up straight (Fake, Latvia thought to himself as he saw this): "Latvia and Moldova tried to pull a prank on me," he began. "They sat one of Moldova's bears down on the chair—you know, the one that Russia bought for him that says I love you when you press on its stomach?—yeah, they sat that one down in the chair and I sat in it; it scared me and I jumped and ended up spilling coffee everywhere." He cleared his throat and concluded, "So they made me spill the coffee, therefore they should clean it up. But they won't."

"Oh, please. We didn't make you spill the coffee," Latvia protested loudly. "That's ridiculous."

Estonia began to argue back with Latvia, before Ukraine stomped her foot lightly and demanded, "Quiet!"

The two teenagers obeyed. Ukraine stood with her hands on her hips then, her face angry as she turned to Estonia. "Latvia and Moldova pulled a prank on you and made you spill a cup of coffee," she repeated crossly. "Yeah, I really believe they did that."

"But the—" Estonia began to say before Ukraine interrupted again.

"They act like they didn't do it," she said. "Especially Moldova. Look at him! How could you blame a little kid for such a thing?"

The group turned their eyes toward the said boy, who had his arms folded, eyes widened, and lips pouted, looking as innocent as ever (even though he'd been a more-than-willing accomplice, of course).

"But!—" Estonia said, before sighing, deciding it was pointless. Then, Ukraine went to the laundry room, picked up a mop and a bucket, walked back, and handed it toward Estonia. The bespectacled blond sighed again, taking it and going into the dining room to clean his mess. All the while Latvia was standing behind them, his hands tightly clamped over his mouth to avoid rolling on the floor in laughter. Moldova stayed just as he was, analyzing this interaction curiously and carefully.

Ukraine stood in the doorway between the living room and the dining room, watching Estonia. In the living room, Moldova watched Latvia closely. "Are you about to laugh?" he asked, tilting his head a little to the side as he looked up at the teen.

Latvia took his hands away for a brief moment, biting his lip, before nodding vigorously.

Moldova paused for a few moments, still staring at Latvia, before asking, "Is it as funny as when you put that spicy sauce in Sestra's soup?"

Moldova had said that loudly, loudly enough for Ukraine herself to hear; the woman turned around slowly, giving Latvia the same look she'd just given Estonia a few minutes prior.

Latvia stared ahead in absolute shock, feelings of dread mixed with anger simmering through him. Oh. My. God. Moldova truly hadn't learned anything, had he?

»»————-　➴　————-««

Soon enough, Latvia was in the dining room alongside Estonia, helping him clean the mess on the floor—it had gotten practically everywhere, apparently (how much coffee did Estonia seriously drink?) and it was very sticky. So, in short, it was not too fun to clean up. There was also the newspaper to worry about, which had its papers scattered all across the floor too.

And where was Moldova at that moment? Sitting at the dining room table, munching on a batch of cookies Ukraine had baked for him and drinking cold milk. A long milk mustache got caught on his top lip more than once, with every time Ukraine quickly dashing over to clean it up with a napkin.

Fun for him, Latvia thought sarcastically as he swept his mop through another stain. Whatever happened to partners in crime? He guessed telling the truth and mint chocolate cookies tasted more appetizing.

#hetalia #hetaliaplatonicshipsweek #hetalia event #hetalia fanfiction #fanfiction #aph latvia #aph moldova #hws latvia #hws moldova

13 notes · View notes

twh-news · 3 years ago

Text

Loki’s production designer on the Modernist inspiration behind the show’s stunning visuals | The Art Newspaper

By Helen Stoilas

Kasra Farahani explains why the Time Variance Authority waiting room looks so much like the Breuer building, and how the inside of a Fabergé egg became an alien train carriage.

Fans of Modernist design can find a lot to appreciate in Loki, the television series starring Tom Hiddleston recently released by Marvel Studios on the streaming channel Disney+. The stunning production is clearly influenced by Brutalist and Neo-Futurist architecture, as well as Soviet Socialist art and sculpture. Visual references can be seen from the very first episode, in which the magic-wielding god of mischief is apprehended by a universe-spanning police force known as the Time Variance Authority for “crimes against the Sacred Timeline” (stay with us).

One early scene, for example, was filmed on a custom-built set that bears a striking resemblance to the lobby of the Marcel Breuer building in New York which once housed the Whitney Museum—and now houses the Frick—while another was shot on location in the Neo-Futurist Atlanta Marriott Marquis hotel, designed by the architect John C. Portman, Jr (with some monumental statues later edited into the soaring atrium). The Art Newspaper spoke to the series’ production designer, Kasra Farahani, about his inspirations for the look of the show.

The Art Newspaper: Loki's director, Kate Herron has called this series a love letter to sci-fi and you see a lot of visual homages to films like Brazil, A Clockwork Orange and Blade Runner. But there's also a clear influence of Modernist design on the look of the series overall. You studied industrial design early in your career. Were there specific examples of Modernist architecture and design that you were looking at when you started working on the series?

Kasra Farahani: So many, everyone from Frank Lloyd Wright to Breuer, to Mies van der Rohe to Paul Rudolph—you have a shot in the John Portman building—to Oscar Niemeyer. And then a lot of Eastern European, Soviet-influenced Modernism played a big part in it as well. I can honestly tell you that my first and foremost inspiration was Modernism. Part of that is because the TVA (Time Variance Authority) is a bureaucracy and I think, archetypically, so much of what we know a bureaucracy to be is that post-war, highly funded institutional look. And there's a lot of different versions of that, whether it's the Washington, DC version, like the Hoover building, or whether it's what we had in Los Angeles, where I grew up, where there's a huge amount of post-war architecture built for the population boom. Like the elementary school, middle school and high school that I went to were all mid-century Modernist.

I was also looking a lot at Brutalism and the Modernism in former Soviet states, that are heavily influenced by Socialism and Soviet architecture, and where scale is such a big driving force of the design.

The size of some of the buildings in the show are kind of overwhelming. I know that some filming was done in the Atlanta Marriott Marquis, with that huge soaring atrium. You just completely get dwarfed by that kind of architecture.

Yeah, that's right. That one we used for the TVA archives because we couldn't justify building a big set, but once I scouted it, I saw that we could bring in these massive Time-Keeper sculptures at the scale you would typically only see in an exterior, which is a fantastical thing. The TVA sets themselves, which were almost entirely full 360-degree sets, were very much designed as an intentional paradox between the stoic, large-scale Brutalism form language, and the surfacing and palette and whimsical patterning, which is very much taken from American mid-century Modern. Those two things create these spaces that feel at once super intimidating and then uncomfortably inviting and warm at the same time.

That’s kind of the irony of a lot of Modernism, Brutalism especially, it had these utopian ideals of creating affordable social housing, but then a lot of the people found it really oppressive to live in.

Yeah. Modernism has been that way the whole time—it was designed to be super cheap and utilitarian and routinely it ends up being the most expensive kind of architecture. Another thing readers may be curious to know about is the TBA expanse, which is essentially the view outside some windows.

That futuristic cityscape you can see….

Yeah. They had very strange and unique parameters to try to design that. The TVA exists outside of the physical world—so there's no weather, there's no roofs, there's no difference between interior and exterior, there's not necessarily even gravity in the way that we know it. But there are these meandering colonnades that we took a lot of inspiration from Brasilia—and obviously a lot of the super cities that were drawn in comics. But also there's some really beautiful conceptual sketches that Frank Lloyd Wright did of a version Los Angeles in the early 20th century that had Roman-like colonnades and plazas and a lot of that fed into what the TVA expanse is.

You mentioned all the sets you built for Loki, especially for the TVA. There's two that where used a lot. The Time Theater, where so much of kind of Loki’s personal story gets told, and looks like its straight out of the Barbican in London, with these huge colour-coded directional numbers on the walls. And then there's the Miss Minutes waiting room with those circular lights that looks almost exactly like the lobby of the Breuer building in New York—to the point where I reached out to the museum to ask if you’d filmed there. You even got the silver-tipped light bulbs right.

We were very inspired by that, but it's different in some very subtle, but for me, very important ways. Number one, the size of the bulbs is much smaller, they were manipulated to create eyeballs, basically. Another important difference is that in the Breuer building, they have these dishes hanging in space, whereas in ours, they're negative space, there's a solid ceiling. It creates a matrix of eyeballs peering down, like the always-watching Time-Keepers. And maybe the most important difference is that the ceiling is slammed down—you know the cheapest apartment you can go into has an eight-foot ceiling, this is six inches shorter than that, and our actor is about six-foot-three. The idea was to create a sort of trash compactor feeling in this claustrophobic space with this matrix of eyes, watching as all of this is happening.

The time theater was for me very inspired by Pier Luigi Nervi.

I liked that waffle coffered ceiling you have in that room.

Thanks. We were very happy with it, and it created this kind of forest of light columns which helps set the neo-noirish, interrogative nature of the space. And the unnecessarily large super graphics that you mentioned are a very Paul Rudolph sort of a thing, he did that in his building too, and I love that.

For me, it’s very important not to reference a set design from other films, that why I reference architecture, painting, photography, these other art forms, more than anything else, because inevitably when you’re working in archetypes, there’s a lot of overlap.

And as Loki goes into different times and locations, you get a completely different design environment in those places. There’s a scene on a train car, that has a very Art Deco look.

That was inspired by the inside of a Fabergé egg, Art Deco meets Alien.

And when you finally meet the Time-Keepers in the most recent episode, it’s like they're in a pre-Colombian pyramid or a ziggurat.

I was looking at Indian stepwells, this almost fractal quality with these descending stairs going into one another—but we imagined them going out every direction, with an Escher-like quality, like they are tessellating themselves to infinity.

I read on Twitter that you literally bought a bowling alley from Omaha and brought it to Atlanta to create Loki's Palace in the Void in the last episode, which is this crazy, surreal, amusement park, junk yard-like place.

We bought the floor of a bowling alley, everything else we built. That was a lot of fun because the script gave us a lot of runway. The proposal was to do this bowling alley because essentially everything in the Void has been discarded from time, and more things fall into it and accumulate and so you end up with these strata. I liked the idea of like a bowling alley that's been smashed over your knee or something. The net effect is when you first enter, you have all these lane lines pointing down at this throne, which was supposed to be stolen from a mall Santa. And then there's these crazy alien plants that are growing through it that have taken parasitic hold of the place. In many ways, I think its a narrative microcosm of the Void itself, which is like a salad bar of these disparate aberrations slammed together. Things like the bowling alley all have these micro-narratives that we in the art department have come up with to help flush out the design and make them specific. For example, there's portraits on the wall of like bowler of the month, and they’re not quite human. It's not in the episode, but those things are important for us in the art department.

At the very end of the most recent episode, we get a glimpse into this city that Loki and Sylvie (played by Sophia Di Martino) are walking into. Can tell us anything about what inspired those scenes, what we're about to see?

You can call me back in a week. All I can say is that the TVA is definitely the visual and narrative anchor of the story, but there's a lot of great worlds to see. And I think what people are responding to is the breadth of the visual variety of the show. And episode six won't be any different. It's really cool, and maybe some of my favorite stuff.

#loki #loki series #production design #set design #tom hiddleston #Kasra Farahani #article #the art newspaper

19 notes · View notes

btxtreads · 4 years ago

Text

Underneath the Stars | H.Kai

➳ The stars will always shine, even if it can never shine brighter than the moon.

↳ Pairing: Hueningkai x Reader

↳ word count: 4.4k

↳ genre: fluff, like a tinee bit of angst, messy bc i was writing this with no idea of what plot to do also i think the ending is rushed but i still went past 12kst so what use was that rush sakjsjka, Hogwarts AU with a babie hufflepuff kai!

↳a/n: Belated happy birthday hueningie. Ningningdungies enjoy this half-baked Hufflepuff Kai fic

It was a cloudy day, perfect for students as they walked around aimlessly at the grounds before the anticipated quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff started.

Hueningkai, the Hufflepuff seeker, should have been making his way down to the Quidditch Pitch.

That’s why Y/N was so confused why they chose to be up in the owlery—laughing maniacally at her in amusement.

“Why are you even here?” She whined, clutching her letter to her chest.

“Well, I was curious why you weren’t in the stands to cheer me and Taehyun on,” Kai grinned, wiggling his eyebrows in a teasing manner. “Clearly, you’re more interested in sending a letter to a certain Slytherin,”

Kai laughed again, dogding a flying shoe courtesy of the girl.

“Good aim, want me to train you for Chaser?” Kai said nonchalantly, walking closer to the owls.

“No, thank you. Shouldn’t you be down at the pitch?” Y/N sighed in irritation, clutching the letter closer to her as he scooted closer—his eyes trained on the small envelope.

“Not going without you,” Kai snorted, crossing his arms. “What did you even say in the letter?”

“I’m going to confess—tonight at the Astronomy tower,” Y/N declared firmly, before burning red again as she shot Kai a small pout. “Do you think he’ll like me.”

Kai only gave her a small smile.

“He’d be stupid if he didn’t,” Kai grinned, gesturing his head over to the envelope. “Now, come on. Send that off and let’s go, we have a match.”

Y/N huffed, raising the envelope to Beomgyu’s owl—watching as it opened its wings and flew off to drop the anonymous envelope to Beomgyu.

It’s been a year, huh? Can we meet at the astronomy tower at midnight? I have something to ask you about the Yule Ball in a few weeks. -your admirer.

Y/N has always been around Soobin, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Taehyun and Kai for as long as she can remember.

Growing up, the five boys were practically hounding at her every day.

Soobin was her older brother, the perfect brother one can have—doting but not too overbearing, talented and charming, smart but can be airheaded most times.

It was through him that she met Yeonjun, his soon-to-be best friend and new next-door-neighbor.

Of course, that automatically meant meeting Yeonjun’s little brother, Beomgyu.

The mischievous pest warmed up really quickly to her—what with their mutual desire to torture their older brothers with endless pranks.

Then, they met Taehyun and Hueningkai through their parents.

Kai’s mother and Taehyun’s father were good friends with their parents, as well as Yeonjun’s and Beomgyu’s.

Of course, a reunion between old friends means a meeting between their children—and the moment Y/N met Kai she swore she found her other half.

Platonically speaking.

Sure, Taehyun and Beomgyu were so in sync with him, and Soobin and Yeonjun were just the perfect hyungs to be.

Y/N was different.

She was instantly hooked the first time he gave her the softest smile—introducing himself as “Hueningie” instead of his actual name of Kai and offering a cuddle of his plushie as a welcoming gift.

It wasn’t until they were around 10 years old when Y/N started realizing what love was—it was what she felt for her other best friend—Beomgyu.

Of course, Hueningkai knew this.

Of course, he didn’t say anything.

Even if he knew her love would hurt him in the long run.

Y/N rushed, hands shaking as she made her way up the Astronomy to finally tell Beomgyu how she’s felt for years.

She made sure she wouldn’t make him wait—going there thirty minutes before even the agreed time.

But it seems like someone beat her to the punch—two someones.

By the observation deck stood Beomgyu, cheeks burning red as he conversed with a short girl with long brown hair.

Lee Daeun—Slytherin, one of the prettiest in her house, and Beomgyu’s crush since freshman year.

He swore up and down that he grew out of his crush on her—obviously not with the way he blushed a bright red.

“This is you?” Beomgyu asked as he held a couple of envelopes in his hands—all love letters that Y/N herself wrote throughout the duration of the year.

“Yes,” Daeun replied shyly as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I really liked you, Beomgyu, so I thought I should send you some letters,”

Beomgyu smiled softly.

“You do?”

“I do,”

“What did you want to ask me?” Beomgyu asked gently, hand reaching out to grab the girl’s.

“Will you take me to the Yule Ball, Beomie?” Daeun asked, using Kai’s childhood nickname that only Y/N was allowed to use.

Instead of bringing that up, Beomgyu’s eyes brightened up as his smile widened even more.

As Y/N watched the scene from a the doorway, arms circled around her waist and a chin rested on her head.

“It’s okay,” Kai sighed, tightening his grip.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked, hand trailing down to grip his tightly.

Hueningkai buried his face in her hair, muttering as his eyes locked onto the scene in front of him—Daeun giggling non-stop as Beomgyu smiled brightly.

“I’m here to tease you,”

“Then tease me,” Y/N replied, voice wavering. “Tell me how stupid I am for falling in love with one of my best friends.”

“Falling in love with your best friend isn’t stupid,”

Y/N didn’t reply, watching as Beomgyu leaned forward and planted a kiss on Daeun’s lips.

Kai didn’t speak as Y/N turned around, burying her head in his chest and starting to cry.

He just tightened his grip on her.

“Falling in love with your best friend hurts, Kai,”

Kai smiled sadly.

“I know,” Kai said. “I know how it feels,”

There, four beating hearts stood underneath the same bright stars—nothing but the shining moon to witness the pain and heartache.

The next day, Kai sat next to Y/N and Soobin in the Gryffindor table—chewing happily on a pancake.

Mina, the Gryffindor prefect passed by.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the Hufflepuff table?”

Kai only grinned.

Soobin, who was the other Gryffindor prefect, waved his hand nonchalantly.

“It’s nothing big,” Soobin replied, tearing into another piece of bread—continuing his statement with a mouthful. “People do it all the time,”

“I’m sorry—house divisions exist for a reason. Tables are separate for a reason and—“ Mina’s eyes hardened, mouth opening to argue more.

A body decked in an emerald green plopped down next to Soobin with a groan.

“It’s 7:00 AM on a Sunday, Mina,” Yeonjun glared. “Literally take that stick out of your arse and leave us alone,”

“A Slytherin—“

“Leave or I’ll tell Professor Binns you cheated on your History of Magic exam yesterday, Ms. Prefect,” Yeonjun hissed, effectively shutting down the girl.

After Mina huffed and marched away, Yeonjun rolled his eyes.

“Good morning,”

Soobin greeted back—mouth still full of bread loaves—while Hueningkai waved.

Y/N just gave a weak smile.

“Why are you here?” Soobin asked once he swallowed down his food.

Taehyun arrived, sitting down next to Hueningkai—his blue robes standing out.

“Is it because Beomgyu and his new girlfriend are getting too disgusting?” Taehyun asked, reaching out to take a slice of meat from the serving plate in front of Hueningkai.

“It’s 7 in the morning—I have no patience for that crap—“ Yeonjun said, before raising his voice. “Or you, Mina—shut it!”

Soobin continued chewing, eyebrows furrowing inquisitively.

“Wait,” Soobin tilted his head. “He has a girlfriend now?”

“Yeah, Lee Daeun,” Yeonjun grumbled.

“But—“ Soobin started, is eyes falling on his sister. “Oh, so that’s why.”

“Can we not talk about this?” Y/N asked.

“Talk about what?” Beomgyu’s voice asked as he appeared behind them, hands on Y/N’s shoulders happily.

“Nothing,” Kai grumbled as Beomgyu raised an eyebrow.

“Okay?” He laughed, hand tugging on the sheepish girl behind him. “Everyone, this is Daeun. My girlfriend.”

Y/N didn’t react, only continuing to poke with her food.

“Hi,” Yeonjun grumbled.

“How exactly did this happen?” Soobin piped up.

“Or when?” Taehyun added.

“Last night,” Beomgyu recalled happily. “Remember the letters I’ve been getting? It’s all her.”

Soobin and Yeonjun—who both found out about the letters—and Taehyun—who, much to the dismay of Kai, suggested Y/N do the letters—all widened their eyes to look at the Slytherin girl giggling next to Beomgyu.

“No, she isn’t,” Yeonjun said, pursing his lips at the glare Kai sent his way.

“I am,” Daeun said happily, giggling as she leaned on Beomgyu’s arm. “And now we’re dating and going to the Yule Ball,”

Before anyone could say anything, Y/N slammed her fork on the table and wiped her lips with a napkin.

“I’m not hungry anymore.” Y/N said.

Beomgyu furrowed her eyebrows.

“Y/N, you barely ate.”

“I lost my appetite.”

“But why—“

“That’s because anyone would lose their appetite with you and your girlfriend around, Choi,” a voice declared. “I would retch.”

Kai groaned, head slamming on the table in exasperation.

Soobin continued eating as Yeonjun started to mix a cup of coffee for him and Taehyun—invested in the scene in front of them.

Beomgyu’s eyes immediately darkened as he looked over at the approaching Gryffindor.

It was true—no matter how much a Slytherin or a Gryffindor liked each others’ houses, there’s always that one person from another house that they hate.

In Beomgyu’s case, that was Song Hanbin.

“I don’t recall you being part of the conversation,” Beomgyu quipped to which Hanbin only smirked.

“I don’t recall your friends inviting you over to eat with them,” Hanbin shot back.

“Technically, we invited no one—they just came on their own,” Soobin said, which was ignored.

“Anyways, Choi, don’t worry your pretty little head—I’m not here for you,” Hanbin said. “I’m here for Y/N.”

The said girl’s head shot up, along with Kai’s.

Hanbin turned, smiling over at Y/N.

“I think you’re really beautiful, and I’ve been admiring you from afar for years now,” Hanbin started.

At this point, Hueningkai’s eyes were wide open—a signal for help sent to his hyungs, who were the only ones who knew about his feelings for Y/N.

Granted, he felt weird that her older brother was so invested in his sister’s love affairs.

Soobin and Yeonjun only exchanged a look of panic, Taehyun next to them signalling a cut across his neck.

“Stop it now!” Taehyun mouthed.

“I think you’re a really smart, captivating girl,” Hanbin continued. “And I’d really like it if you went to the Yule Ball with me,”

At this point, Y/N’s eyes darted all over her friends’ faces.

Beomgyu was positively fuming while Hueningkai was burning bright red in panic.

“She’s not going with you,” Beomgyu replied for Y/N.

“Well, that’s not your choice, is it? Focus on your girlfriend.” Hanbin replied, mocking Beomgyu before Y/N spoke.

“I’m not going with you—“ Y/N said. “I’m going with Hueningie,”

At this, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Taehyun, Soobin and even Kai himself stopped—freezing as Y/N smiled over at Hanbin.

“Thank you, Hanbin. I’m flattered, but I’m already going as Kai’s date.”

“You are?” Kai squeaked as Beomgyu furrowed his eyebrows.

“That’s unfortunate,” Hanbin smiled, shrugging as he backed away. “Better luck next time, eh?”

“Sure,” Y/N nodded, looking back at Kai.

“You’re going with me?” Kai said, a hopeful tone to his voice.

“Of course,” Y/N started, but was cut off by Beomgyu shaking his head.

“No, you’re not?” Beomgyu said, making Y/N turn to him.

“Why not?”

“You don’t like him, right?” Beomgyu said. “Why are you going on a dance with him?”

“None of your concern, Beomie, or maybe I should just call you Beomgyu.” Y/N sighed, standing up and sending an exasperated nod to a frozen Daeun.

“Huh?” Beomgyu asked.

“Have a nice day,” Y/N cracked a small smile as she nodded over to the couple.

As she left, Kai stood up—shooting Beomgyu an incredulous look.

“Next time, try to clarify who exactly you’re talking to and meeting,” Kai said. “Daeun didn’t send those letters.”

Kai left, following Y/N.

One by one, Taehyun, Soobin and Yeonjun took their leave.

Hogsmeade—the district next to Hogwarts where students frequent to do their purchases and spend on a whim during their stay in Hogwarts.

Soobin and Yeonjun—one of the most sought-after in the school—decided to play a prank on their admirers by going to the ball together.

When offered to buy dress robes together, Yeonjun and Soobin refused to go with Kai and Y/N, choosing to go to instead head to the Shrieking Shack (which the both of them have seen a couple of times already, but still frequent to scare the innocent students looking at it for the first time).

Taehyun decided to be a lone wolf—stating that he’d either leave early or make fun of people with Soobin and Yeonjun.

For dress robes, he said he made a promise to go with his Ravenclaw buddies.

No one has talked to Beomgyu since that day with Daeun.

All five promised to meet up at Three Broomsticks at exactly 7 in the evening. It was currently only 2 in the afternoon.

Kai and Y/N found themselves in Gladrag’s Wizardwear—only among the selected few who decided to go for dressrobes first.

Taehyun was already finished by the time they arrived—waving a goodbye and promising to be at Three Broomsticks.

“Yeonjun and Soobin are going to be stuck in line later,” Y/N said as she thumbed through the selection of dresses.

Kai, with arms already holding a brand new set of plain black dress robes, snorted.

“We did tell them to come with us,” Hueningkai said, eyes locking onto Y/N’s arms. “Will you be wearing all of these?”

“Trying out some of them, yeah,”

“I think you look really beautiful in blue,” Kai said, burning bright red when Y/N looked at him in shock. “Just—Just a suggestion,”

Y/N smiled softly.

“What about red?”

“I think you look beautiful in everything,” Kai said, coughing akwardly as he looked off to the side. “I just really like blue.”

“Okay,”

In the end, Y/N got a beautiful blue dress and they left the store with bags carried in Kai’s left hand, and Y/N holding the other.

Hands still tightly clutched in Hueningkai’s, Y/N pouted as she tried to choose what flavor of no-melt ice cream she would purchase for the day.

“Maybe mint chocolate?” Kai suggested making the girl wince, looking over at the boy who was already eating his own ice cream in the wretched flavor.

“That’s disgusting,” Y/N hissed, scrunching her nose up in disgust. “It’s like eating cold toothpaste.”

“No, it’s not!” Hueningkai argued, making the girl roll her eyes and settle on a flavor.

“Vanilla with Cookie Dough, please,” Y/N requested.

“That’s so boring,” Kai commented as Y/N received her own cup.

“You’re boring!” Y/N shot back.

With a grin, Hueningkai shoved a spoonful of mint chocolate ice cream in Y/N’s mouth—laughing maniacally.

Y/N whined as she pulled the spoon out.

“It tastes so weird,” Y/N groaned.

Hueningkai laughed as Y/N continued to whine, stopping when he saw Y/N’s lips with a small crumb of ice cream.

“Your—uh—“ Kai said. “You have um—“

“What?”

Kai didn’t reply, reaching out and brushing the corner of her lips.

Y/N’s eyes widened as Hueningkai blushed, brushing the crumb off of his hand.

“You had a—“ Hueningkai stopped, eyes locking with Y/N’s. “Something.”

Y/N didn’t speak, eyes searching his as Hueningkai started to lean down.

“Excuse me, are you guys still in line?”

Y/N flinched, stepping back in surprise as Hueningkai turned to a bored-looking Slytherin.

“Oh, uh, no,” Kai replied, hastily pulling Y/N out of the way. “Sorry,”

“Next time, make out somewhere more private than a sweets shop.”

Y/N blushed red as Hueningkai stammered.

Next to them, the ice cream clerk was smiling.

Y/N sat next to Hueningkai in Three Broomsticks—laughing loudly as Yeonjun and Soobin started to argue about some stupid things.

Taehyun smirked off at the side, chiming in every once in a while to aid either party to make the argument bigger and bigger.

Hueningkai and Y/N sat side by side, hands awfully close to one another.

The Hufflepuff breathed deeply, ready to grab Y/N’s hand and intertwine it with his before—

“Hi,” A voice greeted meekly, revealing a shy Slytherin walking up to the table.

“Beomgyu?” Y/N asked in surprise as Beomgyu stepped forward. “Where’s Daeun?”

Beomgyu pursed his lips, shaking his head.

Y/N’s eyes turned sympathetic, hand reaching out to land on Beomgyu’s arm.

“Beomie, it’s okay, you don’t deserve a liar,” Y/N said, smiling.

Beomgyu only smiled, squeezing her hand on his arm.

“Will you meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight, then?”

Y/N chuckled.

“Sure, if you sit down and eat right now.” Y/N smiled back.

Yeonjun snorted, resuming his argument with Soobin.

Beomgyu smiled and took a seat next to Y/N.

At the side, Hueningkai retracted his hand next to Y/N’s.

He’ll probably have to stay with Taehyun, Soobin and Yeonjun for the Yule Ball.

Y/N reached the top of the Astronomy Tower, smiling slightly at the sight of Beomgyu sitting on the ledge of the observation deck.

“Hey,”

“Hi,” Beomgyu replied, still looking up at the stars.

“Just you?” Y/N asked, making Beomgyu laughed as he glanced over at her.

“I promise—no Daeun this time,” Beomgyu said, patting the spot next to him. “Sit.”

“What if I fall?”

“I won’t let you,” Beomgyu smiled, hand steadying the girl as she plopped on the spot next to the boy.

There was a beat of silence before Beomgyu sighed.

“This is how it should have been,” He started, eyes drifting towards Y/N. “Isn’t it?”

Y/N only hummed, chuckling softly.

“Maybe, but things happen.”

Beomgyu smiled, raising an eyebrow.

“So you made me all those letters, huh?”

Y/N winced, shrugging.

“Yeah, blame Taehyun.”

“Oh, I will,” Beomgyu snorted. “He told me you didn’t like me,”

Y/N laughed, looking at Beomgyu. “Well, I told him to.”

Beomgyu only sighed, smiling as he combed a hand through her hair.

“I liked you, Y/N, I always have.” Beomgyu said. “If it was you, and not Daeun, that I met up here that night, it would have been you and me,”

“I was up here, that night,” Y/N shared, shaking her head. “I saw what happened—how she told you it was her and everything.”

“And the kiss?”

“Yeah,”

Beomgyu winced, making Y/N chuckle.

“It’s fine, you know. I had Kai—he followed me,” Y/N explained.

Beomgyu nodded, hand taking hers.

“You know, Y/N,” Beomgyu said. “If you asked me now, I’d say yes.”

Y/N smiled softly—the past few weeks rolling around in her brain.

The one person who cared about her enough to follow her every step of the way, who was there when she got hurt that night.

The one who was there to pick up the pieces and side with her throughout all this time.

The one who always hid in the shadows and backed off when Y/N decided that, no, she wanted to be with Beomgyu instead of him.

She stayed silent, only looking up at Beomgyu who grinned understandingly.

“Yeah, okay,” Beomgyu laughed, making Y/N smile in relief. “So, you don’t like me anymore?”

“Oh, I do,” Y/N laughed. “You’re my best friend, Beomie—I’ll always like you,”

“But?” “Not as much as I used to,” Y/N snorted.

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow as Y/N fiddled with her fingers.

“There’s someone else.”

“Oh?”

“I, uh, realized I always liked him—I just never knew.” Y/N explained, groaning at Beomgyu’s teasing smirk. “Shut up, Choi.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“I know you’re thinking it!”

Beomgyu laughed shaking his head as he leaned back on his hands.

“In the back of my mid, I kind of always knew.” Beomgyu hummed, making Y/N sigh.

Beomgyu turned to his best friend, dusting his robes.

“Do you want me to walk you back to the Gryffindor tower?”

“I think I’ll stay for a bit.”

Beomgyu nodded, smiling and kissing her on the cheek.

“Good luck,” he said.

“Thank you,” Y/N muttered, eyes trained up as her heart felt a little lighter.

There she sat, under the shine of the stars—her heart admitting the words her heart always knew.

Hueningkai stammered as Beomgyu dragged him to the Gryffindor tower, straight from the entrance of the Hufflepuff dorms.

“Beomgyu, wh—“

Hueningkai fussed, successfully shaking the boy off of his arm by the entrance to the Gryffindor towers.

“Kau, where the hell were you?” Yeonjun whined.

Soobin only tilted his head inquisitively as Taehyun seemed unbothered.

“I was—I was planning to come to the Great Hall when the ball started—“

“You had a date,” Beomgyu hissed. “Dude, really?”

Kai furrowed his eyebrows.

“But—“ Kai stammered. “I thought you and her—“

“No, Kai,” Beomgyu sighed, an exasperated smile on his face.

“Oh,”

“Hueningie?”

Kai jumped in surprise, heads turning to Y/N as she exited the Gryffindor tower with a soft smile.

Hueningkai melted on the spot as he saw the blue dress Y/N had picked on their trip to Hogsmeade when he mentioned he liked blue.

He stammered on the spot as Y/N walked over.

Yeonjun and Soobin looked on in amusement, wiping fake tears off of their faces as they muttered about how “they grow up so fast,”

Taehyun and Beomgyu looked on proudly, chattering amongst themselves.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Hueningkai started as he offered out his arm, scrunching his face. “I meant you look beautiful every night, but especially tonight—I—“

“Thanks, Kai,” Y/N smiled, looping her arm through his. “You look beautiful too.”

He only smiled.

A swirl of colors mixed on the dance floor.

Laughter and excitement filled the Great Hall.

By the buffet table, Yeonjun and Soobin fought over the last piece of loaved bread.

Taehyun and Beomgyu idly conversed in a nearby table.

Kai and Y/N awkwardly held hands, slow-dancing upon the insistence of Beomgyu and Taehyun. (Yeonjun and Soobin actually couldn’t be bothered because they were more concerned with the food table.)

Kai coughed softly, blushing a bright red as Y/N smiled in amusement.

“Are you feeling weird?” Y/N asked making Hueningkai shake his head.

“No, I’m okay,”

“You feel awkward?” Y/N laughed as Kai shook his head. “Come on, let’s go out,”

Kai breathed heavily as Y/N pulled him away, her eyes locking with Beomgyu who shot her a thumbs up.

Hueningkai burned a bright red as they exited the Great Hall and made their way to the Black Lake.

“What, are you drowning me today?” Kai teased as he sat by the shoreline.

Y/N snorted, tilting her head.

“Yeah, probably,” Y/N grinned, about to take a seat if it wasn’t for Hueningkai gasping.

“Wait, no—“

Hueningkai pulled off his dress robes and set it on the ground.

Y/N shot him a tiny smile and sat, arms wrapping around her knees.

“So,” Hueningkai said, pursing his lips as Y/N glanced up at the bright moon.

“Remember how we used to look up at the night sky when we were kids?” Y/N asked, making Kai laugh.

“Yeah,” Kai snorted. “I remember we used to say we’d run away with Beomgyu, Taehyun, Soobin and Yeonjun on broomsticks and live off of Chocolate Frogs and Licorice Wands,”

“Simpler times,” Y/N smiled. “That was before I had a crush on Beomgyu.”

At the mention of the older Slytherin, Hueningkai practically deflated on the spot.

He looked back up at the night sky, eyes trailing over at the moon.

“I think I’m like the stars,” Hueningkai said.

“Hm?”

“I’m always there, always shining and waiting for someone to see me—but I always get ignored for the moon,” Hueningkai explained, a penchant look on his face as Y/N turned to him. “but even if I am, I’ll stay there—waiting for that one shot to be seen, even if it’s the time I fall,”

Y/N didn’t reply, leaning her head on her knees as Kai continued to rant.

“I-I—“ Kai said, looking back down at the girl. “I’m a star just waiting for you to see me,”

Y/N smiled softly as Kai continued.

“Y/N, I like you,” Kai breathed heavily, almost as if relieved he spoke the words. “I’ve been holding this back for years and now it’s out. I like you.”

Y/N straightened up, smiling widely.

“Really?”

“Really, and it feels so light to say it—wow. I mean I know you like Beomgyu, and by all the means go for him, but I just really want to admit it and—“

Courage is one of the qualities encompassed by a Gryffindor.

It took great courage for Y/N to lean forward to plant a quick kiss on Hueningkai’s lips.

Kai stopped his rambling, eyes wide as he looked over at Y/N.

His first kiss.

Y/N pulled away, smiling shyly as she looked back up.

“Yeah, yeah,” She scoffed lightheartedly. “I like you, too.”

Hueningkai blinked, hand creeping up to touch his lips.

“You-You kissed me?”

“Shut up,” Y/N snorted, burning bright red in embarrassment. “It was my first kiss too, you know,”

Hueningkai’s smile slowly appeared, widening rapidly as he relaxed in his seat.

Y/N shifted, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulders.

“The stars look beautiful tonight—“ Y/N said. “Brighter than the moon, even.”

Hueningkai only smiled, turning his head to the side as he laid another soft kiss on her lips underneath the blanket of the brightest stars.

174 notes · View notes

rein-ette · 3 years ago

Note

Hi!

I was inspired by your asks, so I wanted to hear from you! What do you think of Canada as a country? I had a bit of a Canadian phase long ago and I tried to consume as much literature and history as I could, but reading about a place and living in it are very different experiences, so is there anything you'd like to share about Canada, about the culture or the people? Do you like living there? What are some of your favorites things? How do you survive the winters?

And also, as a character, what do you think of Matt?

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Aaaaaaaaah okay okay *ahem*

If you’re not here for a Ted talk the exit is to your left, have a great day!

I do love Canada very much! I was born and pretty much grew up here, and as I’ve grown older I’ve become more and more grateful for everything that my country has provided for me! I remember my history teacher in high school said once that by being born into the middle class and as a Canadian, you’ve already won the lottery of life. That was not to disparage other countries, but to remind us of how remarkably privileged we are and how much we take for granted.

One of the first things you hear when you ask people what does it mean to Canadian is the word “multicultural.” I find this word realllyyyyyy cringeyyyy and not really reflective of reality, but I suppose it’s a good starting point for more in depth discussion. People often say Canada is a “cultural melting pot”, but the indigenous poet Marilyn Dumont pointed out in her poems that in some ways it’s more of a mosaic — there are many cultures, but they don’t always meld together. To say it’s a melting pot is ignoring the fact that racism and discrimination certainly have and do still exist here.

But I would argue that in some areas it is a “melting pot”, even if I kinda hate that word. I prefer to think of where I live as cultural delta — a place where many mighty tributaries meet as they thunder into the sea. (It is also literally a delta, funnily enough) Here, I grew up absorbing Canadian ideas, studying British history, reading American literature, learning French — but I also grew up listening to Kpop, watching Ghibli, eating rice. When I meet up with friends, we don’t grab a coffee, we grab milk tea. If you ask people here where they would like to visit or live, they will most likely say New York, London, Hong Kong, or Seoul — which tells you a bit about both how powerful and diverse the cultural influences here are.

Perhaps the thing most indicative of Canada’s “multiculturalism” and what I am most grateful for, however, is that I grew up here without fear. I didn’t even know the words “chink” or other words existed until I could access the internet. Recently, the beatings of Asian immigrants in the UK and US brought this home for me — how lucky I am to have such a privileged childhood. And I know this kind of privilege is hard won; in my research of WW2 I found that one of the amusement parks that I used to frequent as a child was built on land that once housed a Japanese internment camp. How fragile our lives are!

But enough about the serious stuff. I can’t really answer your question about how to survive winters in Canada lol, except to say that where I am in Canada it is absolutely necessary everyone own at least 3-4 umbrellas. That’s because this side of the Rockies in BC, the temperatures are pretty mild year round — the coldest it gets is usually 0, and the hottest around 25. But, by god, it rains. I did go to Ottawa in the winter though, where it was -13 one day, but honestly? Everything below 0 feels pretty much the same. Once it gets that cold, you can’t even tell anymore. I wore a skirt and tights that day, with a good, thick winter coat. And I survived :D

Besides not being heckled on the street for being Asian, my favourite things about Canada are probably the amazing diversity of good food and how tremendously beautiful the wilderness here is. And I say this as someone who loses her mind when a mosquito flies past (ie. I am not a nature person). You can kinda tell from these photos here, but the trees and water and whatnot here, are like, real. Maybe I just find that amazing because I lived in Tianjin, but it just feels like this is a city built among the trees and the sky and water that was always here, and not a city where humans have brought in nature for our amusement.

Okay, gotta move on to your other questions or I’ll go on forever. As a state I think Canada does a fairly good job of providing for its own people, but I wish we had a greater global influence. A lot of youth especially express the view that Canada is kinda...boring if your career doesn’t have to do with, like, sports, nature, or medicine, and I would tend to agree. We have great universities, but as someone who studies international relations I often wish Canada would like? Do more? On the global scale. The only thing we really have under our name is the UN peacekeeping, which PM Pearson started after the Suez Canal Crisis. I mean, I’ve heard that many people abroad identify Canada with peace and like ofc I’m not complaining about that, but I just wish our history was a little spicier, ya know? We did kick Americas ass that one time in 1812 and that was amazing. No regrets.

So that brings me to Matt. A lot of Canada’s existence has just been dominated by trying to carve a way between the US and the British while not being swallowed by either. Britain gave us the protection and strength and diversification of identity to not be annexed by the US, but at the same time it hobbled Canada’s relation with our only neighbour. One of the very first treaties Canada negotiated alone, if I’m recalling correctly, was a trade contract with the US over fishing (?) in BC and Alaska, where London was like no you can’t and Canada was like uh we gotta make money too, bro. So yes, while I do believe Mattie is just a very loyal person in general, he was also loyal to the empire because he needed to survive. A lot of Canadian identity was solidified around our prompt assistance of England and the sacrifices made in the two world wars, especially the campaigns in the Low Countries and Italy. Essentially, Canada has historically differentiated itself from the US through its loyalty.

Uuuuh just realized that has nothing to do with my opinion of Matt. Um. I like him? He’s real best friend/big brother material, and I do hc him as far more cunning and capable than canon portrays him to be. However, sometimes he’s just...too nice. He doesn’t have that edge that England has that makes me wanna slap him tf up and sob and call him my baby at the same time. Also, as oumaheroes mentioned here, that kind of selflessness can get pretty toxic. After all, by consistently not voicing or examining your own needs, you make it incredibly and unnecessarily frustrating for the people who care about you to help you, and that creates a relationship just as one sided as one where the person is extremely selfish. Actually, now that I think about it, my biggest gripe with Mattie as a character and Canada as a country is in that word: selfless. Without self. Perhaps because Canada is still so young, but it feels a little lost, a little like it doesn’t know quite know yet why it exists.

TLDR: If you’re under 18 or over 60, Canada is the place to be. If, however, you’re like me and wish you could touch a building that’s over 150 years old and maybe visit a square somebody’s been guillotined in, perhaps try someplace else. Personally Portugal’s golden visa is lookin especially tempting lately

#I’m not on my laptop and I don’t know how to add a cut on my phone #so I’m really sorry if this takes up ur dash #I will fix this as soon as I get home #it’s reining again #thanks for indulging me needcake #ask #also rip i was gonna give book recommendations but tbh does Canada even have literature #I mean we do we DO but #uh have you tried Margaret Atwood? lmfao #i mostly read American and European lit and I feel kinda bad about that #Canadian history is...kinda dry tho idk #maybe it’s cuz I learned it in school

12 notes · View notes