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itsallyscorner · 3 years

Note

Can you write a little mix member x avengers cast?? Maybe?

Hello love! Thank you for the request, I apologize for taking so long to work on it! I’ve written this as a headcanon, since I haven’t done any of those in a while. I hope you like it❤️

💌.

The Marvel Cast Finds Out You’re In Little Mix

Why is this lowkey a crack fic/headcanon😭💀

Alrighty so, I feel like they probably wouldn’t know you’re part of a band or who Little Mix is.

Since SADLY, the girls aren’t as big in the States as we’d like them to be:(

The people who definitely might know you are ✨The Brits✨ and Scarlett because she has a young daughter who probably listened to Wings or something—kids find everything on the internet these days.

Working with Marvel was your first acting gig; so none of them knew anything about you or if you’ve been in other films, etc.

Except for Tom Holland, who was lowkey fangirling at the fact he gets to work with one of the Little Mix members.

Side note: he’ll be deeply offended when he figures out the others don’t know about Little Mix or that you can sing.

The rest of the cast (RDJ, Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, Seb, Lizzie, etc.) had a hunch that you were some kind of writer.

You were always humming to yourself and writing in your notebook or typing down notes in your phone when something came to mind.

Though they didn’t pry at your business because—well, it wasn’t their business.

They could find out about your other job through many ways. Maybe you guys are doing promo and some interviewers mention the band and things about a new album, to which most of them were confused about.

“So (Y/n), I know this is your first time acting. How different was it from performing on stage and acting on camera?”

Everyone’s attention would be on you (this is a panel btw) Mackie’s looking at the back of your head in confusion, Robert fully turns in his seat to look at you, Lizzie is also curious, Evans is looking between you and the reporter—everyone is just confused.

“Performing on stage? Did you do Broadway (y/n/n)?” Evans asked. Tom (Holland) scoffed shaking his head, disgusted to be part of this group of uncultured swines.

You chuckled and shook your head, “No, I’m a singer. I’m part of a girlband.”

The whole cast gasped in shock. Mackie let out a loud “WHAT?!”. Robert leaned even closer to you trying to see if you were lying. Others whispered amongst themselves asking each other if they knew.

Tom (Holland) just sat back watching everyone’s reactions along with you. Amused at the amount of questions that were suddenly being thrown your way.

He’d also be quick to add, “NOT just ANY girlband, but the biggest girlband on the planet.”

For clarification, Tom’s a very proud Mixer.

Scarlett finally recognized you, knowing that she’s seen you somewhere before, but could never put her finger onto it. “Wait you’re from Little Mix!”

“THANK YOU! FINALLY SOMEONE WITH SOME TASTE!” Tom yelled, dramatically turning to Scarlett.

After the initial shock, everyone was very curious. They wanted to hear your music, wanted to know the other members, when your next tour was—they were very ecstatic.

When you guys finally reached London for the press tour, there was a lot of hype for Little Mix because you guys were going to finally reunite after months of being apart.

The girls were allowed to visit set, but since you guys were working on your new album, they were stuck in London. You were relocated to Atlanta, filming an Avengers movie and working on the album via FaceTime/Zoom.

You and the girls reunite the same night you land in London! As tired as you were, the five of you hung out in your hotel room.

You were all excited for the days to come. Not only were you doing promo for the movie but you and the girls were going to be performing again on night time talk shows and were having a Live Lounge session with BBC Radio 1.

The panel of the cast discovering you were part of a band went viral. Many of the fans couldn’t believe they didn’t know about your other job.

There were even edits going around social media of the cast looking clueless and or reacting to your ‘secret’.

Then there were ones like “Tom Holland being a Mixer for 10 minutes and 57 seconds straight”.

Your favorite one was where they zoomed in on everyone’s confused expression while that one Nicki Minaj song played in the background.

It was mentioned in almost every interview after it went viral.

“So none of you had a clue that (y/n) was also a singer? Like at all?”

“I didn’t even know homegirl could sing, matter of fact I never imagined her to be in a girlband.” — Anthony Mackie

“I had a hunch that she was a musician or artist, but no one ever listens to me.” — Chris Evans

“(Y/n)’s in a girlband? Since when?” — Paul Rudd

“After we found out, I listened to all six of their albums on the flight here.” — Elizabeth Olsen

“Of course I knew, my music taste is immaculate compared to the others.” — Tom Holland

“Shut the fuck up, Tom.” — Anthony Mackie

“I really enjoy Black Magic, it reminds me of Wanda.” — Paul Bettany

The cast was so eager to hear you sing and watch you perform with the girls.

They finally got to do that when you invited them to the Live Lounge session. They also got to meet the girls.

You were very happy at that moment; seeing the two groups of people you love meeting each other and getting along meant a lot to you. It gave you a lil warm tingle in your heart.

Since there were no fans in the studio, it was only you and the girls, the band, and a bunch of the Avengers.

While the cameras rolled and you guys were performing, they were crowded together behind the scenes. Some of them were sitting on the carpeted floors or standing against the walls.

They were absolutely stunned when they heard you sing. You had a powerful voice that ranged from high to low, something they never expected of you.

When they heard you and the girls sing or harmonize with each other, it was like they were all in heaven.

“They sound like angels.”

“My ears are tingling, but like in a good way.”

“Seriously, how did we not know she can sing like this?”

“Hear me out—this is a perfect reason as to why we should have an Avengers musical.”

“Chris if we hear you bring up a damn musical one more time I swear.”

“Their voices go so well together, how do they even do that?”

Scarlett would secretly film videos to show her daughter. I have a feeling that Evans, Tom, RDJ, Sebby, and Mark would record some parts as well and would post it onto their Insta stories.

When fans found out they were at the Live Lounge they freaked out.

Ever since they found out you were in a band, they’ve been the biggest fans and supporters of the group.

They’re always promoting your albums on their social media accounts without you even asking.

Privately and publicly praising you guys for performances or achievements.

Your two main groups clashed and now everyone was friends. It was definitely the most weirdest collision— Little Mix and the cast of the Avengers. But it worked out perfectly.

Everyone got along with each other and the girls would always visit you on set.

They’re always playing the band’s song in the background on set.

Most of them won’t admit, but they definitely memorized the lyrics to almost every song.

*cough cough* Mackie and Hemsworth

I feel like Samuel L. Jackson would join in on the action too, one way or another. Somehow he got looped in.

ANOTHER THING OMG, they would definitely stand up for you and the girls whenever Piers Morgan or some asshole hates on you guys or pulls a jab on you all.

Best beileve Evans will be calling him out publicly on Twitter.

“Why are you so worried about a bunch of talented women who are doing their job and bringing happiness to others? They’ve done nothing to you, you’re always the one making jabs at them. Leave them alone you fucking British meatball.”

I feel like Robert helped you and the girls find a better management company after learning about the unfair treatment you all faced under Simon’s care.

In conclusion: The Marvel cast would be ecstatic to learn about you being a singer and they’d become your biggest fans. They truly adore you and the girls for your amazing talent :’)

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samstree · 3 years

Text

and the wolf was nowhere to be found (1/3)

In which Jaskier chooses to lie, until he can no longer tell the truth.

(lying spell/potion, cursed jaskier, geralt apologizes, post mountain, miscommunication, rated teen, read on AO3)

A big thanks to @wanderlust-t and @a-kind-of-merry-war for the prompt! <3

The reverse trope series: [1] [2] [3] [4]

“You are gonna run after him again, just like that? Don’t you remember what he did to you? What you went through?”

Essi leans against the doorframe, her arms crossed in front of her chest, watching as Jaskier packs a second bag.

“Come one, poppet. Geralt was having a hard time back then, and now he’s come all the way to Oxenfurt to apologize.

“So what?”

“So I’m forgiving him.”

She grumbles a few rude words regarding the witcher’s lineage.

“Hey! That’s not nice.”

“And this is way too easy! Why can’t you see a disaster waiting to happen until it hits you in the face?” Essi exclaims. “Do you know what I would have done? I would make him grovel! Give him the cold shoulder. Or…or at least play it cool for a while longer so he knows not to take you for granted again! Sorry, but I’m…not like you.”

“Um…excuse you. I am plenty cool!”

“There’s nothing cool about being utterly in love and then getting cast aside over and over again, Jaskier. You know that.”

Jaskier sighs, walks to Essi and pulls her into a tight hug, all his scattered doublets ignored.

“I’m going to be okay,” he tries to tuck her curls away from her eyes but fails.

“Are you?” When she pulls back, there’s something inscrutable in those blue eyes, the curtain of blonde hair obscuring her emotions. “When you came down from the mountain, the way you couldn’t even … I don’t know. I just need to make sure it won’t happen again.”

“It—” Jaskier opens his mouth to make an easy promise, but finds the words choking in his throat. “I, um—”

Essi squeezes him on the shoulder. “He’s apologized, profusely from what you told me, and he’s being nice now. He will certainly be nice for a while, but what happens after he wins you back? What’s preventing him from hurting you again?”

Jaskier has no answers for her, so he resorts to giving her another hug.

“At least, think about my cold shoulder tactic. Sometimes people need the reminder, just so they know what they can easily lose.”

“Essi—”

“Think about it.”

She presses a small kiss on Jaskier’s cheek and leaves him to his packing. Outside the window comes the familiar sound of Roache’s hooves, clicking against the cobblestone.

Jaskier straightens his tunic and lets out a heave. He can see Geralt is being good now, friendly even, after all these years of denying their friendship. Now, the witcher is even waiting downstairs to begin their next journey.

Essi is just being overly protective, Jaskier decides.

He winds down the stairs and finds Geralt cooing at Roach. The urge to melt in those golden amber eyes is overwhelming.

“We good?” Geralt takes Jaskier’s bags and secures them on Roach, side by side with his saddlebags.

“Good,” Jaskier lies.

---

The truth is, Jaskier has heard of this so-called “cold shoulder” tactic. He’s even contemplated it for longer than he’s willing to admit. Every time Geralt dismissed him as a friend, brushed him off, Jaskier couldn’t help but want to retaliate with equal measure.

What if he’s the one to give Geralt a time-out? What if when Geralt tells him to fuck off, he just…leaves? The same idea churned in Jaskier’s stomach for two decades, but in the end, he knows the answer—he can never bring himself to go through it. His feet would carry him back to Geralt before even taking a step away.

He was left anyway.

But now…

Jaskier can’t afford to be left again. Essi was right. He isn’t sure if he can pick himself up again. He barely managed it the first time.

Jaskier lets out an audible scoff as he comes to the realization. He’s going to do it. The cold shoulder tactic. It’s so cheesy that it feels like something only school girls would use to get attention from a crush. Keep your distance, string him along a little. That’s how you get him to notice you exist—

“Something funny?” Geralt turns on horseback, sunlight peaking through his silver hair, a curious frown between his brows. He’s towering, beautiful. He has always been the most beautiful person Jaskier knows, even if he doesn’t know it.

Jaskier strums an absent chord on his lute. “Just something Essi said.”

“Hmm.” Geralt nudges Roach forward. “I was thinking… You’ve never seen a basilisk, have you?”

“No?”

“There are rumors about a nest in the next town. Want to see it?”

A hint of smile hints at Geralt’s lips, and Jaskier’s heart almost leaps out of his throat. A basilisk hunt is one he’s been dying to watch for years, if not decades. He’s drooling with excitement just thinking about the ballad that will certainly sweep the continent off its feet.

“Of course I want—" The sentence stops in its tracks. Jaskier bites his tongue to hide the slip. “You know what, I think I’ll stay in town. This new song needs some polishing before its debut. I’m sure a big witcher such as yourself doesn’t need a bard’s moral support for a meager basilisk, right?”

Jaskier adds a wink for good measure, but Geralt is not amused. He’s staring from his vantage point, his expression inexplicable. Is it really so shocking that Jaskier will turn Geralt down this once, after all this time?

“I understand.” Geralt pauses before continuing, almost too carefully. “Perhaps I can help? Sing it for me tonight?”

“Sing it…for you?” Jaskier asks, dumbfounded. The lute in his hands suddenly feels a lot weightier than it is.

“You wanted my review for so long, Jaskier. I’m giving it to you now. I’m sure your playing will be…nice.”

Geralt looks at him with hope in his eyes, and Jaskier can’t help but let his ego grow a little. It’s unbelievable that a simple refusal is what got Geralt to finally say anything positive about his music. The tiny triumph fills his chest with unexpected giddiness.

“Maybe I will. We shall see,” he replies. His fingers strike another chord.

Jaskier feels a spring in his steps, urging him forward to the mare’s steady gait. Golden amber eyes are burning a hole into his back, but he doesn’t dare to look back lest the tiny bubble of this perfect moment break.

---

Night falls, and Jaskier scribbles down another line. The door opens and Geralt drags his feet into their shared room.

Jaskier makes no effort to get up.

Once upon a time, he would have raced across the room to greet Geralt, checked for injuries and fussed over any scrapes and cuts, all the while getting dismissed with the witcher’s grumbled words. He’d help remove those heavy armors when Geralt’s muscles ache from exhaustion and get ichor all over himself.

He will not do that tonight.

Play it cool, Essi’s words echo in his memory. Right, he’s doing things differently now.

Jaskier fixes his gaze on the notebook in his lap and listens as Geralt shuffles around the room, putting everything back in place. One by one, his armor pieces drop in the corner of the room.

“How was it?” he asks with the most nonchalant tone as if he’s just noticed the other man’s existence.

“Fine. The basilisk’s dead.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier chooses the single hum uncharacteristically as Geralt puts his swords against the doorframe and sits down on the single chair.

He’s so still, hovering even.

“What?” Jaskier finally looks at him. Geralt, as he claimed, looks fine, with only a smudge of a black ichor sticking to his hair. A frown appears between his brows.

Adorable.

Jaskier shakes the thought quickly.

“Your new song?” Geralt prompts.

“Oh yeah. Never mind. I don’t feel like singing.”

It’s another lie. A necessary one, Jaskier tells himself.

“You,” Geralt says, raising an eyebrow, “don’t feel like singing?”

Jaskier clutches the notebook to his chest almost defensively, not sure what to do with the accusation. Is it a tragedy that Geralt knows him like the back of his hand? Or is it a shame that Jaskier is indeed buzzing with excitement to test out this song, with the most important person in his life?

“Well, I don’t.”

Jaskier keeps his chin up and scrambles off the bed to put away his books and pens. Geralt’s intent gaze is on his back again.

“Twenty years, and I’ve never known you to turn down an opportunity to sing.”

“I guess you don’t know me that well,” Jaskier bites back with a force that seems to come out of nowhere. “The bard may not want to entertain all the time, darling.”

The endearment sounds false, more like a jab. He lets out a dry chuckle and hopes to ease the tension but to no avail. Geralt’s eyes are wide with surprise. So Jaskier reaches for his bedroll as a distraction, but only serves to make the confusion deepen on Geralt’s face.

“What are you doing?”

Jaskier lays it by the fire, on the soft rug that magically seems clean enough. It should be self-explanatory, but apparently not because Geralt is still staring quizzically.

“Sleeping.”

Geralt looks at the double bed and then back at Jaskier. “On the floor?”

“Thought I’d give you the space. I know how keyed up you are after the potions.”

Jaskier can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the nervous energy buzzing as more words he doesn’t mean comes out of his mouth. He crosses his legs on the bedroll and pulls the blanket onto his lap to hide from Geralt’s scrutiny. But then, something dawns on Geralt’s face.

“Jaskier…” Geralt rubs his forehead, his face pinched. “What I said in Oxenfurt, I meant it.”

“You do?”

“You can count on me now. It won’t be like…before.”

Their gazes meet, and Jaskier bears the intensity of it with everything he has. He feels bare, seen through by the amber gold he’s missed and cursed and loved so much.

“I’m here, and I’m all here, Jaskier. Please believe in me.”

“I do.”

It’s not the truth despite how much he wants to believe it. Jaskier wonders if lying to Geralt ever becomes easier.

He doesn’t know what is not convincing him. Geralt looks so genuine, and Jaskier wants more than anything to trust him again, but the smile on his face feels too stiff.

The plan is going as Jaskier wanted. He’s showing Geralt that his friendship doesn’t come freely anymore, and the witcher needs to make more effort, meet him halfway, somehow. Then how come as the quiet night creeps in, Jaskier only finds a hollow space in his chest?

The roaring fire in the hearth warms his back, but Jaskier clutches his blanket tighter. It can’t stave off the coldness left by the lack of a witcher’s body by his side.

---

Jaskier continues with the same scheme the next day.

Ignoring Geralt is not a difficult task in the beginning. The barmaid is a beautiful thing, doe-eyed and curious, has too many questions for her own good. She keeps asking about Jaskier’s ballads, and wouldn’t quite believe any crazy stories in them.

“Is it true that the White Wolf fought a sea serpent on the Skellige Isles? Surely, those creatures only exist in legends!”

She’s getting familiar, pressed up against Jaskier on the bench, almost pushing him back into Geralt’s side—the real subject of the topic, but it’s obvious her fascination lies only in Jaskier. Her brown eyes stay on the bard alone.

“Why don’t we find somewhere more private and I’ll tell you all about it?”

“Is it a good one? It must be a heroic tale, isn’t it?”

“Heroic, of course. There’s also a twist. I won’t spoil it for you, but—” Jaskier winks, his fingers brushing past her wrist. “—it’s a love story that holds more heartbreak than you can bear.”

Her giggles are like soft wind chimes, and Jaskier guides her away from their table. He takes two steps and turns back, smacking himself on the head as if he’s only just thought of it.

“Oh, shoot! I know I promised to go the market with you, Geralt, but you see…” He gestures to the girl waiting expectantly in the near distance. There’s nothing I can do about it, he says with a shrug. “Have a good time, will you?”

Geralt is holding his tankard, his knuckles white and his face ice-cold. It’s like Jaskier is looking at one of those ice sculptures made by Oxenfurt’s art students every winter.

“You said you’d come.”

Geralt’s voice is so gentle, so full of dejection that Jaskier’s resolve almost breaks. He clears his throat and darts his eyes elsewhere. Those acting coaches back in school would have been disappointed in him for letting his emotions peak through, but Geralt doesn’t seem to notice what’s underneath this front.

“Surely you can find a new bridle for Roach by yourself,” Jaskier waves his hand in dismissal. “You are a big witcher.”

Geralt opens his mouth and closes it, before speaking again. “And the pastry shop you wanted to visit?”

Jaskier thinks of the lemon cakes he’s been itching to try and swallows the yearning in his throat. Gods, being with Geralt all day with not a care in the world, and with the best sweets on the continent. What is he doing turning all this down?

“Well,” he insists, “Better company comes before cake, my dear.”

With that, Geralt lets go of the topic. His amber eyes drop back to the half-finished ale. “Better company. I see…”

“Surely you understand, Geralt.”

“Just—” Geralt purses his lips in an attempt at a smile. “Don’t exaggerate too much.”

Jaskier should feel bad as he walks out the tavern door with a beauty on his arm, he should, but instead, a pang of anger rises in his throat. How many times did Geralt abandon him at the sight of Yennefer in the past few years? How long did he brood on top of that mountain, recounting every bad choice he’d made in his life and decided that it was all Jaskier’s doing?

For once, Jaskier doesn’t want to put Geralt first in everything, waiting for a bone thrown in his direction, and the witcher—this infuriating man—is going to act like a kicked puppy.

Horrified at this burning rage, Jaskier turns only to watch helplessly as Geralt walks down the street in the opposite direction. He’s planted to the spot, unable to chase Geralt down, and clueless as to whether this plan is doing him any favors other than the fleeting satisfaction of getting back at his friend who was at fault.

Was.

Geralt was at fault. Jaskier has forgiven him, or at least, that’s what he said at first sight of his witcher’s travel-weary face back in Oxenfurt.

And yet, he’s punishing him still.

The barmaid is still waiting for Jaskier’s stories, her cheeks still round with a timid blush and her eyes gleaming with expectations.

The colorful adventures taste stale on his tongue and she loses interest too quickly before returning to her post. His mood sours further as the day stretches on.

Jaskier ends up wandering around town without an aim in mind. The only place he’s carefully avoiding is the market, and the stable, and the smith’s shop. Anywhere he might bump into Geralt. When night draws in, a sudden downpour catches him off guard and drenches him from inside out.

Great. Just the perfect ending to the worst—well, the second worst day of Jaskier’s life.

Candles are still lit as Jaskier enters the room. He finds Geralt fast asleep already, and on the table, right next to his writing supplies, is a lemon cake.

It’s drizzled in honey and looks just as enticing as he imagined.

Jaskier picks it up and finds a lump forming in his throat, choking him with guilt. He wants to scream, to let out the frustration at all the mistakes made in the past and haunting him still. He wants to cry. It’s just…

Now, he doesn’t know if he still deserves to.

---

Okay, I know I'm being mean to Geralt here, but don't worry, I’ gonna be mean to Jaskier in the next one ;)

Also, whatever Jaskier is doing here is very unhealthy. Don't try this at home.

Tagging: @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #jaskier being an idiot #geralt apologizes #mutual pining #miscommunication #cursed jaskier #jaskier whump #reverse trope #lying spell

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Amoreena | chapter one

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers

word count: 3,147

Read on Ao3

There’s this small, tiny part, of Spencer that wants to run away.

He’s always felt like he’s never truly been home, a never-ending and long yearning, a homesickness for a place he didn't even know, eating him alive day by day. It made him want to drop everything and buy a cottage in the woods, to fill it with books and coffee and never see another person again.

It got worse after prison and after his mom asked to go back into a care facility, it hurt the most when Penelope left the FBI and things with Max fizzled out. Then he was really, truly alone again. His apartment felt cold and uninviting, the BAU felt like a chore, using his brain for anything other than taking care of himself was extremely hard.

He needed a break.

So when he walked out of work and straight to his favourite park for an escape, he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t stop walking. Going further and further down the trail, following the dirt path towards a pond, covered by a beautiful willow tree and surrounded by pink, purple, yellow and white flowers. The contrast of the green grass with the colourful flowers, the blue sky and the light green willow tree reflection dancing on the surface of the pond. It was like he walked into Eden, taking a seat by the tree and picking a book from his satchel.

For the rest of the week, it’s his own little sanctuary, escaping desk work and home cases as fast as he could. Even then it wasn't enough and he started going every afternoon, he’d sneak out for an hour and just relax. Reading his book, feeling the breeze on his face, the sound of ducks and frogs competing with the crickets for loudest being in the area. Eventually bringing his bike on the subway to work so he could get there faster.

It was beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as what he walked in on when he arrived Saturday afternoon. Parking his bike by the tree, looking at them carefully as he took his satchel off his shoulders and placed it by the trunk. Craning his neck so he could look at who it was, seeing the purest display of human affection known to man.

A mother and her daughter were having a picnic, dressed up like Miss Honey and Matilda as they had lemonade and snacks, spread out on a blanket as the mother handed her a sandwich wrapped in checkered red wax paper.

Spencer was in awe, sitting on the other side of the pond by a second tree, pretending to read when really he was glancing at them. Their laugher filling the field, bouncing around the trees and filling his chest with warmth.

It reminded him of all the afternoons with his own mother. His head in her lap, the sound of her voice as she shared worlds wisdom with him. He missed childhood, freedom, hope. The will to continue…

When the little girl finally notices that they’re not alone in this little world she’s creating, he sees her tug on her moms shirt, asking her a question before cheering. She picks something out of the basket and comes running towards Spencer.

“Excuse me, sir?” Her sweet little voice asks. “Are you an archeologist or a palaeontologist?”

It makes him laugh slightly, a large smile erupting on his face as he pushes his glasses up and puts the book down. “No sorry, I’m not, what made you think I was?”

“You have a satchel and glasses like Milo from Atlantis, but you have a dinosaur on your tie, you look like you work at a museum,” she rambled all her thoughts out, much like he did as a child.

“I’m actually an FBI agent,” he whispered.

“Wow,” she whispered back in amazement, “are you like a knight? Do you save princesses?”

“I do," he nodded enthusiastically, "do you know any in need?”

“Her,” she pointed. “I’m Lady Amoreena, the Princess over there says I was a gift to the kingdom but that she’ll never need a prince or king to take care of us, but I think a knight would work!”

He laughed lightly, seeing her mom shake her head as she overheard it, covering her face with her hand, she looked embarrassed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Amoreena,” he put his hand out to shake her’s as soft as possible, noticing the cookie in her hand. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he added softly.

“Would you like a cookie?”

He smiled as she placed it in his hand, “thank you.”

“Do you like Matilda?”

“It’s one of my favourite books,” he smiles.

“Do you want to have some lemonade and read with us?” Her face lit up, turning back to where her mother was watching from the pond.

“It’s okay, thank you for offering,” not wanting to intrude on their moment.

“We need a voice for Matilda’s father, please?” She begged, overly sweet and incredibly convincing.

“Alright, but I’m warning you if I upstage the princess with my awesome voices, it’s not my fault,” he smiled as he stood up, grabbing his things and starting to follow her over to the blanket.

She took his hand and tugged him along the edge of the pond, dragging him right to were her mother was sitting on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized softly as he sat down. “She’s very persistent about making new friends. We don’t see many people on this side of the park.”

“It’s fine, honestly, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, by the way,” he introduced himself. “I work with the FBI, normally I’d advice women and their children to avoid strange men they don’t know when they’re alone in the woods like this.”

She laughed slightly, “Y/N Y/L/N, I’m the head librarian at the DC library, and you don’t seem that strange.”

“Neither did Bundy,” he tried to joke, knowing she got it and trusted him when she bit back a smile, eyes twinkling at him in the sunlight.

“My name is Amoreena, like the Elton John song,” her daughter cut in, noticing how they were staring at each other and trying to get the attention instead.

“It’s a beautiful song, no wonder you love it here,” Spencer smiled at her, “do you come here often?”

She nodded, a blush flowing through her freckled cheeks, “have you ever read Tuck Everlasting? The pond here can make you young forever,” her whisper was the cutest thing. She was so full of life, personality and joy.

“I have, you’re right this feels a lot like the field from the book, what other books do you like?”

“I love books,” she lays back against the blanket ever so dramatically. “Matilda, Anne of Green Gables, Beauty and the Beast, I love every story that ends with true love and happiness, and cats.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her explanation, knowing that feeling all too well. “I have read almost every book ever, more than the entire DC library probably."

“We dress up every week for what ever book we are reading, next week is Peter Pan if you’d like to join us? We’re here every Saturday at 11,” Y/N offered.

“You haven’t even heard me read Matilda from memory and you’re already asking me to come back?” Spencer smirked as their faces lit up.

“No way, prove it!” Amoreena shouted, shoving him lightly to encourage him to start.

“The Reader of Books,” he began, seeing the pages in his mind as he repeated the words. “It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.”

“Okay so you know the beginning,” Y/N teased, opening the book to a random page, “what's on page 32?”

"My name is Jennifer Honey," Miss Honey said. "How do you do, Mrs. Wormwood." Mrs. Wormwood glared at her and said, "What's the trouble then?" Nobody invited Miss Honey to sit down so she chose a chair and sat down anyway. "This", she said, "was your daughter's first day at school." "We know that," Mrs Wormwood said, ratty about missing her programme. "Is that all you came to tell us?" Miss Honey stared hard into the other woman's wet grey eyes, and she allowed the silence to hang in the air until Mrs. Wormwood became uncomfortable. "Do you wish me to explain why I came?" she said.

Amoreena thought it was the coolest thing ever, reading the page and jumping up and down when he was correct, “how did you do that?”

“I can remember every word I’ve ever read, I have a pretty interesting brain,” he explained it as overdramatic as he could, knowing she would find it magical.

“You’re so cool!” She swooned, dropping back against the blanket just as dramatically.

Y/N was all smiles, running her fingers through Amoreena’s hair and giggling slightly at the sight of her silly child. “Spencer, would you like to do the honours today?”

She handed him the book, knowing he didn’t need it. He gently opened it, starting on the first page and starting to read it the way his mother would. Bringing out voices, hand gestures, all the bells and whistles.

They were in the field together until the sun started to set, casting a purple and orange glow over the pond. Amoreena was resting in Y/N’s arms, legs extended over Spencer’s lap as they sat close. It was the most perfect Saturday he has had in a long time. Probably the best day of his life, actually.

“Matilda leapt into Miss Honey's arms and hugged her, and Miss Honey hugged her back, and then the mother and father and brother were inside the car and the car was pulling away with the tyres screaming. The brother gave a wave through the rear window, but the other two didn't even look back. Miss Honey was still hugging the tiny girl in her arms and neither of them said a word as they stood there watching the big black car tearing round the corner at the end of the road and disappearing for ever into the distance. The end.”

He closed the book softly, setting it down on the blanket and looking at them softly, “am I still invited next week?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N smiled, “I’m dressing as Tinker Bell, Amoreena will be Peter Pan, and you can be anyone else of your choosing.”

“I’ll keep it a surprise until next week,” Spencer smiled right back.

Amoreena crawled out of Y/N’s lap and leapt into Spencer’s arms, hugging him tightly in her small arms. “That was the best story ever, thank you!”

Everything in the world felt right then, hugging her back while he smiled at her mother. Y/N had a hand over her heart as she swooned, watching her daughter bond with the man who just happened to wander into their picnic.

“Can I get your number?” Y/N asked softly, “you know, so we can arrange outfits and stories as the week's pass.” She shrugged, licking her lips slightly as she blushed.

“Of course, I’m not on duty for the rest of the month, so if you wanted to go to a museum or anything, I’m free? Since I look so much like I should work there,” he teased Amoreena.

“I’m sure lovey would like that?” Y/N leaned over Amoreena’s shoulder, holding her around her waist and tickling her softly.

Lovey

It was a nickname that made perfect sense in his mind. Amoreena, the keyword being Amore, to love. She was very loveable, incredibly vibrant and full of innocence, a life that was full of possibilities, wonderful like her mother.

“We’re going to the Smithsonian tomorrow to see the Dino’s,” Amoreena’s face lit up. “Do you know anything about them?”

“Surprisingly enough, while I’m not a paleontologist, I know a lot about dinosaurs, and I might have some connections there to see the rare ones,” he exaggerated his voice again, watching her get so excited she started to run around with her arms in the air.

“You don’t have to if you’re busy,” she says softly when Amoreena is far enough away, picking flowers as she ran around.

“I’d love to, actually, thank you,” he whispers towards Y/N. “I haven’t been having the greatest week.”

“Is it okay for me to ask what you do?” She asked, just as softly as Amoreena kept running around the field.

“I’m a profiler, I consult on intense cases.”

“The strange man comment makes more sense now,” she smiled. “we’re looking for a literary historian at the library right now, I’m sure remembering every word in every book would get you hired, you know if you wanted to switch careers for something easier on your soul?”

“I have been thinking of leaving, in all honesty, I’ve actually been having more of a rough 15 years,” he tries to laugh but he just feels frustrated. “It’s been really hard.”

“For everything you see, you’re still a very sweet man, not many people would sit down and occupy his time with an autistic 7-year-old,” she complimented him with a smile, sharing something personal in a way that would fit right into the conversation and not make a big deal. “We really did enjoy your company today.”

He handed her a business card from his pocket, feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional as he handed it to her, “I've had a wonderful time. I'm also autistic, I know what it's like to want to share the world while no one wants to listen, thank you for letting me join you. Let me know what time you’re going to the museum tomorrow and I will be there.”

Y/N’s face lit up once more, reading the card over before sliding it into her bag. “Do you want a PB&J or a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch tomorrow?”

“PB&J is a great museum lunch,” he bit his lip so he’d stop smiling, it was beginning to feel embarrassing with how much he liked her already. Not used to random kindness from smart and beautiful women.

Amoreena came running back then, handing Spencer a handful of flowers upon her arrival. “For you, Sir Knight,” she bowed as he took them.

“I bid you a good day, my fair ladies,” Spencer plaid along, standing to curtsy back.

“We’ll see you tomorrow then?” Y/N asked from the blanket as Amoreena dove into her arms.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Spencer smiled one last time.

“Bye Spencer!!” Amoreena cheered as he waved, walking back down the path towards the main park entrance.

With his satchel draped over his shoulder, he pushed his sleeves up as he walked towards his bike, overwhelmed by the feeling of joy still swirling in his blood. Peddling his way down the path with a smile on his face, excited to get home and plan for the Smithsonian tomorrow, he was an excellent tour guide.

And he did actually have some connections.

Calling the museum curator, an old friend from years ago who owed him a favour. Asking if there was any way he could show his friend and her kid around the un-displayed dinosaurs and fossils, of course she said yes. People seemed to do anything for Dr. Reid of the FBI.

He thought about her job offer then as he hung up, reaching the train station finally and making his way back to his sad apartment. It would be nice to change things up for a bit, it’s not like he couldn’t go back to the FBI in 20 years like Rossi did.

15 years in the field and a metric fuck ton of trauma later, he was officially fed up. Opening his computer the second he got home, writing his 2 weeks notice to be forwarded to Mateo Cruz.

—

He woke up with excitement, for the first time in years.

Well, at first he was happy, then he thought about it too long. Despair creeping in, it was truly sad to think that he’s been sad for so long, desperately needing the happiness Y/N and Amoreena brought to his life.

Like when he spent time around Henry or Hank, there was something so rewarding about witnessing a child see something for the first time. Explaining the world to them, seeing their eyes widen as they enjoyed the world around them.

It was the best thing someone could do, spending the day living with the happiness of a child.

Y/N had texted him right as he woke up, the chime of a new message actually making him smile instead of panic.

Y/N: hey smartie pants, we’re thinking 11 am today. Can we meet you out front?”

Spencer: sure! You should start preparing to hear me ramble all day long. Also my I suggest bringing proper shoes for lots of walking and a backpack for the things Amoreena will get to bring home!

Y/N: oh you weren’t kidding about those connections huh?

Spencer: nope!

Y/N: well, can’t wait to see what you have in store for us! (And to hear your voice all day ♥︎)

It made his heart swell, he could swear it grew three sizes as it pushed against his ribs. Trying to break free from him and run to her, he hadn’t felt this strongly about another person in a very long time.

It wasn’t lust, it wasn’t greed, it wasn’t desperation. He didn’t just want to sleep with her or use her to fill his time, she wasn’t just another friend to occupy his days and talk to when he had to, she was special. She was interesting, she was kind, she was beautiful, she reminded him of his own mother in a strange way that made him fear Fraud was right.

He found a comfort in her that felt a little like home, like all his running led him to her. She was the end of the finish line, the cold glass of water, the euphoric pride of a job well done. She was everything good wrapped up in a beautiful bow and he was gone.

Feeling like he did when he met Ethan, Derek, or Elle for the first time, even Maeve when they were just talking on the phone, that butterfly feeling that excited him to try something new.

Y/N made him believe in possibilities again.

It felt nice to look ahead, to dream and wish of the future and not see death and destruction. Instead, dreaming of them running through the fields, flowers dancing everywhere as they hear Amoreena’s laughter. It’s how life is supposed to be.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena #fluff

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hyperfixatedimagines · 3 years

Text

The Moon & her Star: Ch 2

Summary: Star crossed lovers trying to make it work but as outside pressures get to them will they choose to stay together?

A/N: Thank you to those that enjoyed the first chapter. I hope you like this one.

(Y/N) knew what their arrangement would be before Luna had even finished kissing her.

She knew Luna would never be with her in the light of day.

Not because they were both girls, Monet had been out and proud since seventh grade (allegedly), but because (y/n) didn’t come from old or new money.

She came from no money.

Luna’s lungs were beginning to burn but she didn’t want to stop kissing (y/n). She knew the moment she stopped (y/n) they would have to talk about the harsh reality of their situation. Luna had plans, plans she couldn’t let (y/n) derail. But god- (y/n)’s lips felt so good. She wanted to throw it all away and keep kissing (y/n) forever.

The first month of their clandestine relationship was heaven, or as close as (y/n) ever thought she’d get.

(y/n) loved the secret touches as they’d pass each other in the halls, their fingertips just barely brushing the other’s.

(y/n) loved the adrenaline rush of kissing Luna in the shadowy corners of Constance halls, classrooms, and the occasional girls’ bathroom stall.

Most importantly, (y/n) loved spending evenings in the theater building basement going over her lines with Luna.

Thanks to their passionate kiss that night (y/n) had been able to pull herself together for her audition, and she nailed it.

(y/n) was cast as the female lead for the spring musical, as Maria in west side story.

So she had Luna help her by running lines ,and practicing the choreography together. Luna hated to admit how much she enjoyed the theater, and especially how much she enjoyed acting alongside (y/n).

“You’re overthinking it (y/n),” Luna said as she gently brushed some flyaways from (y/n)’s face.

“Or maybe I’m not thinking enough. This is my one chance Lune, if I don’t-”

Luna cut her girlfriend’s self sabotage off with a delicate finger to (y/n)’s lips.

“(Y/n), you are so insanely talented. These past few weeks that I’ve run lines with you I can see that your star is going to burn so bright. Please don’t overthink it, let your intuition guide you.”

(Y/N) didn’t know how to respond. She’d never heard Luna talk like that.

Luna dropped her finger from (y/n)’s mouth and went to grab the script she’d left on a nearby table. “Now, let’s do another run of the scene at the end of act one.”

“The kissing scene,” (y/n) asked, even though she knew that was exactly what Luna was referring to.

Luna wrapped her arms around (y/n)’s neck.

“I think you need a little more practice,” Luna teased.

(Y/n) wrapped her arms around Luna’s waist, pulling her closer.

“Oh really? Well if it’s for the show, we must practice.”

Luna nodded. “Of course, we have to get it just right. Even if that means doing it over and over,” Luna leaned in closer, “and over again.”

Their lips met and the world around them disappeared. Only their lips and beating hearts mattered.

If only it had stayed that way.

The second month of their relationship was….rocky.

As the spring musical approached (y/n) became more and more stressed, unable to enjoy the shadowy kisses and forbidden glances.

Luna tried her best to comfort (y/n) but she had problems of her own to deal with. Her parents were staying at the New York residence less and less. Luna knew it was because of their busy schedules but a part of her wondered if it was them choosing to be away from her.

And then there was Julien.

She had be gaining quite a following online, and wasn’t sure what to do with all the growing attention. Monet had mobilized, but Monet knew exactly what she wanted to do with life. Monet had a clear ten year plan to success, and it included Luna.

There was no Luna without Monet and no Monet without Luna. They had best friends since seventh grade. They both wanted success and would stop at nothing to achieve it.

So they became Julien’s management team. Monet focusing on the business side and Luna the fashion side.

Which left Luna and (y/n) little time to sneak away and pretend they weren’t star crossed lovers.

Luna still came to the theater building basement to be with (y/n) but she was focused on planning Julien’s outfits for the week.

“Lune if you aren’t mentally here what is the point of you being physically here,” (y/n) spat.

She had such little time left until opening night and the director was on her ass about her dancing. The least Luna could do was pay attention the few hours of the day she saw her.

Luna put her phone down, screen side up, next to her on the bench.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

Luna’s phone buzzed with notification after notification. Luna glanced at the phone before guiltily looking back at (y/n).

“Forget it,” (y/n) replied.

(Y/N) sighed and walked over to her book bag.

“I think we should go. I doubt I’m gonna nail the final dance number tonight.”

Luna grabbed her phone and began typing away.

“I won’t be able to see you Saturday. Julien needs me to help her pick out a dress for spring formal.”

(Y/n)’s shoulders sagged. Not surprised Luna cancelled their date yet again.

“Spring formal? Isn’t that months away?”

Luna looked up at (y/n) incredulously. “Do you think the perfect dress just magically appears a week before an event?”

“You’re right, I guess.”

Luna softened. “It’s important to Julien I be there.”

“Then you have to go, be a good friend.”

(Y/n) turned to kiss Luna goodnight but Luna’s phone pinged and once again Luna had mentally left the building. (Y/n) sighed.

“Crap, I have to go meet Monet. I’ll see you next Tuesday?”

She gave (y/n) a quick peck on the lips before leaving.

(Y/n) stood there, wondering where her Luna had gone.

In the two weeks leading up to opening night (y/n) hadn’t seen or talked to Luna at all.

Sure she’d seen Luna in class but she knew better than to try to talk to Luna in front of Luna’s friends.

(Y/n)’s texts had been left on delivered for days.

If Luna did respond it was a quick, I promise we’ll meet up soon.

Soon never came.

(Y/N) tried her best to focus on her role, but all she could think about was her failing relationship.

She missed Luna.

And as the distance between them grew the more (y/n) came to resent the secrecy of their relationship.

If people knew they were together then (y/n) and Luna could spend more time together. They’d be able to hold hands in the halls like Aki and Audrey. They could sit together at lunch, and even hang out at each other’s homes.

The more (y/n) thought about what she and Luna could be, the more bitter she became because she knew Luna would never accept it.

(Y/N) stared at Luna in class, wondering if Luna was worth the ache in her chest.

Opening night was one day away. (Y/n) had been on edge but that day she was radioactive.

She was messing up her lines, and forgetting dance steps.

The director was worried, and had even threatened to replace (y/n) with her understudy- a freshman. This was her big chance. She couldn’t mess it up now…but she was afraid she was going to.

So she stayed late that day, forcing herself to get it all right.

And it was paying off. That evening (y/n) hadn’t missed one line, and every step was filled with grace.

“You’re going to be the best Maria Constance has ever had.”

(Y/N) turned around, elated at the sound of her lover’s voice.

“Lune!”

She ran towards Luna. Luna stepped into the room meeting (y/n) halfway.

(Y/N) leaned in to kiss her but Luna turned away.

“Is something wrong?”

Luna sighed. “I didn’t want to do this tonight. I know how important tomorrow is to you but-“

(Y/N)’s stomach twisted into knots. She knew what was coming. She’d known this was always going to be the outcome of their relationship. (Y/N) had just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon.

“Don’t. Please Luna not tonight.”

Tears started to prick at the edges of Luna’s eyes.

“(Y/N), you and I both know this isn’t working. Why go on pretending another day?”

(Y/N) balled her fists. “Maybe because tomorrow night is the most important day of my life? And having my girlfriend break up with me the night before is beyond cruel.”

Luna turned to face (y/n). “I’m not doing this to hurt you I-“

“It’s kinda hard to see it any other way.”

Luna wiped away the tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

“Monet and I are going to spring formal together.”

“What?” (Y/n) staggered backwards onto a nearby bench, the wind knocked out of her.

“She asked me a few days ago and I told her I would.”

(Y/N)’s chest began to ache. “Do you have feelings for her?”

Luna sighed. “That doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter? If you’re breaking up with me for Monet I deserve to know.”

Luna took a seat next to (y/n) on the bench.

“I’m not breaking up with you for Monet. I just- when she asked me to the dance I hesitated and she asked if I already had a date.”

Luna turned to (y/n).

“And I realized that we hadn’t talked about spring formal. I realized we hadn’t really spoken in weeks…..I realized it was so easy to forget we were together because we never really had been in the first place. Kissing in the bathroom stall and hanging out in this basement once a week isn’t a relationship (y/n)…we both deserve better.”

Tears ran down the sides of (y/n)’s face as she tried hard to not look at Luna. If she looked at Luna she knew she’d beg Luna to stay.

So she stared at the ground instead. “And we both know you’ll never be better,” (y/n) said with as much venom in her voice as she could muster.

Luna’s stomach sank. She knew (y/n) was right. Luna wanted to be better for (y/n), but she couldn’t be. She was a coward. So she took the coward’s way out and said nothing.

Luna stood up and walked to the door. Just before leaving she turned back to (y/n).

“Break a leg tomorrow night (y/n).”

(Y/N) waited until the door closed behind Luna before breaking down completely. She sobbed into her hands, feeling her lungs burn as she let out silent screams.

She had always known it would end this way but (y/n) couldn’t have predicted it would end the night before her grand debut.

Opening night was a blur to (y/n).

All she remembered of the night was the heat of the stage lights, and the silence of the crowd.

The silence. The deadly silence. And the scorching heat.

(Y/N) had waited for that night for months, years even, and now that it had come all (y/n) could think about was Luna La’s peach lip gloss.

She remembered the heat of the stage lights and the silence of the crowd…then she remembered darkness.

#gossip girl 2021 #gossip girl imagine #gossip girl #gossip girl reboot #luna la #luna la imagine #zion moreno

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ur-favorite-queer-queen · 3 years

Text

Second Chance

For Maribat March day 12 theme second chance

Master List

Sometimes Marinette really wished Penny and Jagged hadn’t adopted her. It’s not that she didn’t want to be a Rolling-Stone, no that wasn’t it. In fact, she was grateful that they had saved her from the horrors that Paris now held for her. It’s just they dragged her to stuff like this, some rich man’s gala.

She had slept for a full 12 hours after finishing Penny’s dress, only to wake up to the news she was coming with them. She probably should’ve seen it coming. Although she was hoping this would be one of the lucky cases where she didn’t have to go. Despite her protests they insisted she needed to interact with other humans who weren’t serving her coffee. In Jagged’s words, “Who knows, you might make a rock n roll friend!”

Now here she was, in her black and purple dress that matched Penny’s and Jagged’s outfits. Letting a bit of her anxiety out as she fiddled with the strap of her matching purse. Watching her parents mingle with the rich folk while she stood off to the side. Every once in a while they would cast her a ‘go make a friend’ look but it never bothered her, she just needed to wait until they stopped turning to look back at her.

After about 10 minutes they stopped, perfect. She casually asked a waiter where the bathroom was and made her way there. Once inside she slipped off the pearl anklet that was Daizzi’s miraculous, letting the kwami make her way into her purse, before pulling out a familiar nose ring. Now that Jagged and Penny were letting her do her own thing, she could go back to scaring people into not socializing with her. While she would’ve loved to keep Daizzi’s miraculous on so that it could combat Stompp’s miraculous side effects, she learned that it took too much energy to do so. And she didn’t want to explain why she was so tired after the gala if she wasn’t talking to anyone.

She schooled her features before making her way back out sending a cold look to anyone who tried to come up to her. She pulled out her phone only to see that 2 hours had passed, she still had 4 more to go. Time was moving much too slowly for her liking.

A clearing of the throat brought her out of her thoughts. She rolled her eyes, putting her phone back in her purse, getting ready to glare at the person who was going to try to talk to her, only to stare in shock at the green eyes that were watching her. The same ones that had bumped into her just days before. The same ones she had sworn she probably wouldn’t ever see again.

Her mouth moved without her permission, again she blames Stompp, “You.”

He smiled or maybe it was a smirk, responding with way too much amusement, “Me.”

She once again schooled her features to look bored, but she’s pretty sure her eyes gave her away with the way he reacted, “What are you doing here?”

Just like before it took him a moment to reply, his smirk growing just the tiniest bit, “I’m always invited to these things, I’ve never seen you before though.”

“With any luck this will be the last time you see me.” She remarked. She didn’t mean to be so rude again she blames Stompp but she really hadn’t expected to see him. To his credit he didn’t seem deterred by her cold vibe, if anything he seemed more determined.

“Why would you say that?”

“These types of things,” She waved her hand around, motioning to the room, “Just aren’t my thing. My parents make it look so easy, but I’ve never been one for this kind of scene. Plus I leave Gotham in a few days.”

“Desperate to get out here?”

“You could say that.”

“Who are your parents?”

She raised an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” If this was the game he wanted to play she would play it. Trying to find out who she was by asking about her parents, real subtle. Well Mr. Hot shot, she’s letting Stompp take the wheel now.

“You know, you make trying to have a conversation pretty hard.”

She rolled her eyes at him, not even trying to stop them from rolling, “Who says I wanted this conversation?” It was a rhetorical question. She turned to leave only for him to grab her wrist.

Suddenly she was brought back to that night. The night that changed everything. Three pieces of jewelry in her hand, two brooches one ring, her earrings 2 beeps away from her transformation leaving her.

A pale hand holding her wrist, keeping her from running away. Green eyes and blond hair belonged to the owner of the hand.

It had happened too fast. One second she was getting ready to run and detransform. Then someone had stopped her, she turned around to meet hungry green eyes. She froze as she felt lips pressed onto her own. It was only the beeping of her earring that brought her back to reality. A knee to the groin, and she pushed him off of her. Letting the police deal with the trio as she fled.

She turned to the owner of the tan hand that was holding her back and could only register green eyes. She wouldn’t stand still this time. She twisted her hand so that he was forced to let go. A knee to the stomach had him holding his gut and as she raised her arm ready to punch him was when she finally registered that this wasn’t Adrien. It was just some weird stranger who was persistent in getting past her walls.

She could hear people talking around her and when she dared to glance around they were all staring. She forced the embarrassed blush that wanted to grace her cheeks down, she wasn’t 13 anymore, she was 16 god damnit! Locking eyes with the mysterious yet persistent guy again, she ran. Ran until she found herself on a balcony, the cold air brushing her face as she gripped the railing.

Why did she react like that? Why did she always have to be so aggressive? Why couldn’t she just let go of the past and take this damn nose ring off so she didn’t have to go and do stupid shit like this? Why couldn’t she just be normal and let people in?

Oh yeah, because she had a bunch of shitty friends that all turned on her because of a liar. The same liar turned her already neglectful parents against her. So Jagged and Penny got custody of her in order to get her out. Her parents didn’t even put up a fight about it, too busy gushing about precious LILA! And now she has major trust issues despite wanting to open and trust people again. Man, she is a wreck.

“Hey, are you out here?” The mystery guy spoke from the entrance of the balcony.

“No, I’m not.” She didn’t see the point in not acknowledging him, he could probably see her from where he was standing.

“I’m sorry about earlier, you were obviously uncomfortable and I pushed your limit. So I really am sorry.” He apologized.

“Yeah, sorry about kneeing you in the stomach. I thought…” She cut herself off, she didn’t need to pour her whole life story out to a stranger. He probably didn’t even want to know either.

“It’s okay, I deserved it.” He made his way to the railing, he was a good distance away that she still had her own space, but close enough they could still talk. She relaxed a little thanks to the distance, resting her elbows on the railing. He leaned his back against the railing. They stood there in silence and Marinette decided she wouldn’t mind seeing this mystery boy again. Wait she didn’t even know his name.

It seemed like he had the same thought since he spoke up, “I don’t think we ever introduced ourselves.”

“We didn’t.” Damn her being so cold, she should probably take this nose ring off. So that’s what she did, took the nose ring off and placed it in her purse. Maybe this would be good for her.

“Well, I’m Damian Wayne.” He stated, holding his hand out to shake.

“Wait, Wayne as in Bruce Wayne? As in the Ice Prince of Gotham?” She questioned, shocked.

“Oh, so you’ve heard.” He seemed a bit disappointed.

“Yeah, but I won’t judge if you don’t judge.”

He raised an eyebrow at that before she continued, “My name is Marinette Rolling-Stone.” Now he looked surprised.

“You're the elusive Diamond Stone?” He asked, disbelief made its way into his voice.

“That’s what they’re calling me now. At first it was Sapphire Stone. Guess that’s what happens when I stay out of the media too long.” She chuckled a small smile making its way onto her face.

“Wait, where did your nose ring go?” He looked around as if expecting it to magically appear.

“I took it off.”

“Why?”

“Well at first I wore it to scare people off. People are scared of people that have piercings. I was thinking of getting a tattoo but I’m too young and they’re too permanent.”

“Why would you want to scare people off?”

“I have a complicated past. Sometimes putting your trust in someone takes too much risk, I tried to avoid it altogether.” She pulled her sketchbook as she wrote something down.

“Tried?”

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?” She tore the paper out.

“You're putting your trust in me?”

“No.” She quickly answered, “But maybe one day.” She handed him the paper and left.

As she walked away she released a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. Maybe giving people a second chance wouldn’t be such a bad thing. But right now she just needed to find her parents so she could head home.

Damian hated galas. He hated having to talk to the stuck-up rich folk who thought they were better than everyone just because of their wealth. The girls who would try and flirt with him in order to gain his last name. And their parents who tried to push them together.

Yes, he definitely hated galas. What made this worse was that his family wouldn’t stop teasing him about the girl who he knocked over that one time. Threatening bodily harm did nothing but amp up the teasing. It was times like this where he truly wished there was a not a no kill rule. If only to give Jason Todd some revenge.

2 hours into the gala and he was already done. 4 girls had already tried to drape themselves over him and it took all his self-control not to hurt them. He was ready to storm out of this gala when he caught sight of her.

The mystery girl he had bumped into days before. She was here, at a Wayne gala. Her outfit certainly looked the part of a rich socialite, She wore a long halter dress that flared out at the waist. It started out black at her neck before turning purple at the waist. The bottom of the dress had black music notes dancing across and she had a matching black and purple purse hanging off her shoulder.

Her hair was down and she seemed to be wearing a little bit of makeup. The only reason he was able to tell it was her was because of the black nose ring that stood out against her fancy look. It looked so out of place compared to everything else.

He watched as a man tried to approach her only to receive the same glare he had gotten days before, quickly moving on to someone else. Seems like he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be here.

He made his way over to her, perhaps to give himself a second chance at a new impression. She proceeded to pull out her phone and look at something before deflating the tiniest bit.

He cleared his throat to grab her attention, she looked at him with the same glare once again before her eyes took on a look of shock.

“You.” She seemed surprised that she had stated this as well.

He couldn’t help the smirk that spread on his face, she remembered him and still had the same spunky attitude, “Me.”

Her features took on a look of boredom, but her eyes looked only curious yet cautious, “What are you doing here?”

The fact that she didn’t recognize him as a Wayne was surprising. He thought that she was only in a hurry before that’s why she didn’t register it was him, but now he knew she truly didn’t know it was him. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. “I’m always invited to these things, I’ve never seen you before though.”

“With any luck this will be the last time you see me.” She said it with such confidence he felt inclined to believe. It was strange. He seemed to be the last person she wanted to talk to and yet he still wanted to talk to her. He didn’t want her to leave. So the next best thing is to get answers.

“Why would you say that?”

“These types of things,” She waved her hand around to motion to the room, “Just aren’t my thing. My parents make it look so easy, but I’ve never been one for this kind of scene. Plus I leave Gotham in a few days.”

Well that sucked for him. “Desperate to get out here?”

“You could say that.”

“Who are your parents?” Maybe he could try to get his father to arrange a meeting with them.

She raised an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Nevermind.

“You know, you make trying to have a conversation pretty hard.” He didn’t mean to say that, that was rude.

She rolled her eyes at him, it looked like he was meant to see that, “Who says I wanted this conversation?” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist. He didn’t want her to go just yet. He felt her freeze then tense when he touched her, her breathing became a little more forced, and she seemed to shake a little.

Suddenly she twisted out of his grip and kneed him in the stomach. She raised her arm and looked ready to punch him. Her eyes looked far and distant and afraid. They seemed to refocus on him as she dropped her arm and glanced around the room. Of course, people were talking about them.

She locked eyes with him once more before running. He ran after her before his path was blocked off by Dick Grayson. “Damian what-” He didn’t get to finish that question as he dashed passed him, determined not to lose the one girl who wasn’t a stuck up brat.

He thought he had lost her but then he heard someone taking deep breaths from out on one of the balconies. He was about to go up to her, but from the way she reacted to his sudden hold on her arm earlier, it was probably best to give a warning. “Hey are you out here?”

He walked out onto the balcony. “No, I’m not.” She likely didn’t want to talk to him.

“I’m sorry about earlier, you were obviously uncomfortable and I pushed your limit. So I really am sorry.” He apologized. Which was so unlike him because here Damian Wayne was apologizing to a stranger. The weird things she made him do.

“Yeah, sorry about kneeing you in the stomach. I thought…” She cut herself off, it looked like she wanted to say more but wasn’t going to.

“It’s okay, I deserved it.” He walked over to the railing, making sure he was a good distance away that she had her own space, but close enough so they could still talk. She seemed to relax a little thanks to the distance, resting her elbows on the railing. He leaned his back against the railing. He quite liked the silence, her company was nice. Oh god he didn’t even know her name.

“I don’t think we ever introduced ourselves.”

“We didn’t.” She stated in what he was pretty sure was a cold tone. Maybe she wanted to stay mysterious, so he would just introduce himself.

“Well, I’m Damian Wayne.” He held his hand out to shake.

“Wait, Wayne as in Bruce Wayne? As in the Ice Prince of Gotham?” So she recognizes the name, not the face. Great.

“Oh, so you’ve heard.”

“Yeah, but I won’t judge if you don’t judge.” Why would he judge her?

He raised an eyebrow at her before she continued, “My name is Marinette Rolling-Stone.”

“You're the elusive Diamond Stone?” He asked, disbelief accidentally made its way into his voice. He couldn’t help it. She was claiming to be the adoptive daughter of famous Jagged and Penny Rolling-Stone. The girl that made Jagged’s stage outfits from scratch and managed to get the ferocious Fang, Jagged’s pet crocodile, to love her. The media could only ever get a hold of the back of her head, but those that had talked with her said she shined as bright as a diamond. Hence the nickname, Diamond Stone.

“That’s what they’re calling me now. At first it was Sapphire Stone. Guess that’s what happens when I stay out of the media too long.” She chuckled, a small smile had made its way onto her face. Sapphire Stone, he hadn’t heard of that nickname but he could always do some stalking research. That’s when he noticed.

“Wait, where did your nose ring go?” He looked around trying to see if it had fallen off her face and she hadn’t noticed.

“I took it off.”

“Why?” He was truly baffled.

“Well at first I wore it to scare people off. People are scared of people that have piercings. I was thinking of getting a tattoo but I’m too young and they’re too permanent.”

“Why would you want to scare people off?” That seems like something he would do.

“I have a complicated past. Sometimes putting your trust in someone takes too much risk, I tried to avoid it altogether.” She pulled out what looked like a sketchbook as she wrote something down. Wait what did she mean by ‘complicated past.’

“Tried?”

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?” She tore the paper out of the sketchbook.

“You're putting your trust in me?” He asked, she didn’t seem like the type to trust people quickly.

“No.” She quickly answered, he thought so, “But maybe one day.” She handed him the paper and left. As he looked down at it he saw it was her number. There was a message attached below ‘My number. Maybe we can meet up somewhere before I leave.’ He certainly wanted to take that opportunity.

He tucked the paper into his pocket and made his way back to the gala only to be met with his annoying family. By the curious look in their eyes they wanted to know what just happened. This was not going to be fun to explain.

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Hi, I have not disappeared, just didn’t want to write for prompts 8-11. I was honestly going to do prompt 8 but then stuff came up and I didn’t have the time to write. I was also planning to write something for tomorrow’s prompt but then I found out I have something I need to do tomorrow so nothing for tomorrow either. Because I had a specific thing I wanted to write for tomorrow I’m changing it to fit day 14′s prompt. Which means it’s not going to be mega angsty like I originally thought was gonna be 14. You have escaped mega angst and now it will only be medium angst.

On another note that was a bitch to write and edit. And the fact I had originally planned to write more for it baffles me. I feel like I left it kind of open ended so if you want a part 3 to what I have going on here go ahead and tell me. I’m still trying to decide if I should do a part 3 yet. For those who are confused today was a part 2 to day 6′s prompt, miraculous side effects. Go to my master list and you can find it.

You can also see on my master list that there are days that are crossed off, which means I won’t be doing those days. I can’t do every single day if I want to still get decent grades. Why I skipped days 8-11. Sorry for that long explanation/rant. Also sorry for posting so late again. I do these things all the way to the last minute. Let’s see if I can break that habit throughout the month. Probably not but a girl can hope. Anyways hope you enjoyed.

@maribatmarch-2k21 @birdiesthings @buginetye

#maribatmarch2021 #maribat #maribat march #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #damian x marinette #daminette #tell me if you want a part 2 #i'm still deciding

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apr1cots · 3 years

Text

bookshop babies

MY VERY LATE FIC for the most lovely @orange-peony

idek what happened here but i miss going to bookshops and i miss my boys.

ty to my loves @moonstruckwytch @phoebedelia and @starlitsilvereyes for helping me always and listening to me whine you complete me

ok what gives here we go....

it was a tuesday when harry realized he was in love. he was sitting in a coffee shop he’d never been to before. he could only assume that the wallpaper had been cheery once, but it peeled a bit at the edges, and a tear poorly hidden behind a photograph of john lennon revealed the greying drywall beneath. he was six chapters into some fantasy novel draco had given him the day before when a bookmark fell out from page 217. with a sigh edging too close to overdramatic, he set down the sipping caramel that the barista had chosen for him when he’d asked for something extra sweet, and reached for the floor without looking. consequently, he bumped his temple directly against the corner of the table and swore out loud.

one side of the neon green bookmark advertised an upcoming book exchange in the east village. the back had a note written in draco’s signature scrawl underlined three times.

potter, if you spill even a drop of coffee or whatever concoction you force one of those damned baristas to create on a single page of this book i will make absolutely certain that you never read another word again!

harry laughed and then blushed and realized he was done for.

he took his time walking to the bookshop, relishing in the anonymity of muggle london and staring into the windows of cafes he had yet to visit. the bell above the weathered blue door jingled when harry stepped inside and draco looked up from where he was reading at the counter. he’d just cut his hair, (merlin, harry, muggles have to do this so often i’m in the shop every two weeks, i never knew!) and the sides were shaved close to his head, the top all long and soft and begging harry to run a hand through it.

their eyes met. draco fought a smile but harry laughed before either of them could say anything.

“you like this one then?”

“yeah, it’s wicked.”

he didn’t say anything else, instead settling into an armchair in his favorite corner, valiantly trying not to look up from his book to where he knew draco was sitting. a few customers came in and harry used draco’s distraction to watch unnoticed until draco caught his eye as the pretty girl in the sweater ducked her head to dig through her bag.

harry hoped draco couldn't see his blush from across the room and stared intently at the same paragraph for at least three minutes.

later, when the afternoon sun was just moments away from casting blinding, golden light in through the window near the door, draco asked harry to fetch him a spare copy of the latest gaiman novel from a high shelf. harry summoned it wandlessly without looking.

“potter! what’s wrong with you?” draco hissed, eyes ablaze with a malice harry hated inciting.

“draco, relax. we are the only people in here. no one is hiding ‘round the cookbooks, i checked,” harry smirked cheekily, but it didn’t have the desired effect.

“you are NOT to do magic here, i mean it. i… i really don’t want that to be part of my life here.”

he read between the lines of draco’s pleas and heard the desperation. draco wanted his place here, in this shop, on this street, in muggle london, to be apart. he wanted it to mean something even if it wasn’t what he had always imagined. harry longed to reach out and touch the worry pinching draco’s face.

instead, harry handed him the book.

“would you like to come ‘round for dinner?”

hermione and ron came as the sun set and after they had eaten, they all sat around the fire. harry watched the easy way that hermione sat on the floor in front of ron’s armchair, leaning into his legs while mouthing the words to the book she was reading. she tucked her hair behind her ears repeatedly as it fell onto the pages filled with tiny print and harry noticed that draco had sat all the way at the other end of the sofa. hermione said ron’s name and he passed her his drink without asking, hand hovering near her head to take it back after just a sip. draco watched the fire when harry caught his eye.

when they all said goodnight, hermione and ron stepped through the floo, and draco left out the front door just giving harry a little wave. harry went to bed alone.

a week later, draco sat in the park on a soft blue blanket that he had produced from a wicker basket, clinking the wine glasses against the bottle.

harry joined him, settling a bit awkwardly on the ground, hands full with two oily packets of steaming fish and chips and draco rolled his eyes.

“you live like a normal person, you can eat like one too,” harry quipped, bumping their shoulders together. it was an unusually warm day for the fall and draco had called harry on his mobile, insisting that they take advantage. harry told him no one else had been available to come, but truthfully, he hadn’t really asked.

draco wore black trousers and a crisp white shirt under a dark grey sweater that looked so soft it might just melt right off. harry wore jeans and a navy sweater that molly had knit him, the paw prints climbing from his right hip to his left shoulder charmed not to trace wandering paths across his torso.

the breeze played in the grass and the trees groaned with the anticipation of coming storms, but the sun cut through the clouds, warming harry’s face and tickling the white blond tips of draco’s hair. when harry rested his head by draco’s hip, close, but not touching, he noticed the subtlest of dark grey pinstripes on draco’s trousers. he smelled intoxicating and harry wanted to press his nose into draco’s thigh, but he picked up his book instead.

“i’m not interesting enough for you, is that it?”

“you’ve been staring at the clouds in silence for at least five minutes. i think you’ll survive. i’ve only got a chapter left. then i’m all yours.”

draco looked at him sharply, then away again.

three paragraphs later, draco’s hand brushed a curl off of his forehead, then began to play with his hair.

harry froze. he had to read the word “dichotomy” thirteen times before it registered in his brain. then he sped to finish the page he had been stuck on for far too long in an effort to avoid suspicion. draco was still looking ahead, not at harry, but now his perfect, pale, aristocratic wrist was right there and harry knew that that was where draco sprayed his cologne and he still smelled so absolutely divine that harry couldn’t be expected to function platonically, like a normal human being. he floundered for a moment, knowing that draco would ask him questions about the ending, so he couldn’t very well fake finishing, but deciding that it was too strange to just set down his book moments after defending his right to read.

before he could come to any sort of conclusion, draco looked down to find harry’s eyes on him and smiled so softly that harry had to sit up. draco's hand fell away then and harry kissed him without a word.

there, on that pretty blue blanket, on that sunny fall day, harry’s heart pounded harder than it had in the forest on the most fateful of days. and when draco pulled away to blink his long eyelashes right against harry’s neck, harry grinned, not caring who was watching.

the following tuesday harry carefully avoided familiar cracks in the sidewalk, walking to the bookshop. he’d finished yet another book, though he didn’t really need an excuse to see draco anymore.

draco was busy at the counter. harry fell back against the door as he closed it, watching without hiding. he moved out of the way when draco was finished, walking behind the counter and hopping up to sit in front of draco.

“hi.”

“hello.”

they just stared at one another for a moment, the softest of silences buzzing between them. then draco touched harry’s thigh, still marveling just a bit that he was allowed and they kissed.

“do you have a new recommendation for me?”

“what?”

“i finished my book.”

“oh. oh, yes i actually- here,” he pulled out a book he’d placed under the counter and blushed.

“you set this aside?”

draco shrugged, smiled, and ducked his head. “for you, yes.”

a year later on a saturday in september, draco promised never to run out of recommendations and harry promised to read every single one. harry admitted that the first time he’d entered the bookshop had been an accident and draco laughed and told him he’d known. everyone left with a book in hand and when harry and draco got home they added a new book to the table beside their bed- their story.

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #books books books #im so sorry this is so late #i just want my babies to fall in love and get married over and over again

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sidecarghost · 3 years

Text

Pre-Canon Trans Dean Winchester

Tw // transphobia, misgendering, parental invalidation, cisnormative biased character, gender dysphoria, magic used for top/ bottom surgery (it is treated like magic transformation but if bothers then please skip fic), parent never catches a clue

Dean is a trans man. And John Winchester is transphobic, so Dean never tells his father that he is a boy when he is younger. But his dad takes him hunting for a witch when he’s 11 years old.

The witch enjoys cursing people that behave poorly. They have given zits to people that are rude, and they cursed a woman to grow a long, thick beard after she made fun of their appearance.

John’s hunting plan for the witch is to use Dean as bait to lure the witch outside. First, Dean would throw a brick at the witch’s house. Then, the witch would leave their house to curse Dean. Finally, John would snipe the witch with a witch killing spell.

“Deanna, are you ready to help your old man gank a witch?” John asks his kid after parking the Impala down the road.

“Yes, dad,” Dean thinks the witch sounds cool. He wishes they weren’t hunting them, but his dad said they had too. Dean hopes that he will get lucky, and that the witch will curse Dean with a beard too.

“That’s my girl,” John smiles. Dean cringes internally, but he would rather face a thousand witches than out himself to his father.

Dean walks into the witch’s front yard with a brick in his right hand. He checks over his shoulder, and sees his father nodding for him to go ahead from his hiding spot behind a large oak tree.

Dean yells a taunt at the witch’s house like his dad told him too, “Hey you! Your house is plain, and your lawn isn’t that great either.”

John shakes his head, he’ll have to work with his child on the finer points of insulting people.

Dean hurls the brick through the large glass window on the front of the house. As expected, the witch makes their appearance almost immediately. They storm out of their house with terrible speed and stop just short of where Dean is standing. Dean looks at his father to see if he’s casting his witch killing spell, but his dad appears frozen in place.

“I’ve frozen your dad. You’re a good kid, but your father is an asshole,” the witch tells Dean.

“Uh... are you going to kill us?,” Dean asks.

“I wasn’t going to,” they answer. “Do you want me too?”

“No, of course not,” Dean shakes his head. “But I heard you cursed a woman with a beard. And I thought that sounded pretty cool.”

The witch studies Dean for a minute. “If facial hair is what you desire, then I can certainly manage that. But I may also have a curse that can ftm realign your anatomy top to bottom, if you’d prefer that instead.”

“Holy crap, that doesn’t sound like a curse. That sounds like some fairy godmother level shit,” Dean blurts out.

“Yes, I suppose it does. Would you like some fairy godmother level shit, boy?” the witch asks.

“Hell, yeah,” Dean has been dreaming of that forever.

The witch reaches into their pocket. They produce some herbs that they crumble in their palm. They incant words in an ancient language. Then they blow the herbs towards Dean. The air around Dean catches fire, and his eyes sting momentarily. But the fire doesn’t burn it just leaves him tingling all over.

The witch kept their word about fairy godmother level shit. His long braid was replaced with a crew cut. His leggings with jeans and his striped top with a flannel. This was just the type of clothes he would wear if John didn’t insist that he wear “proper clothes for a girl.”

Dean hears cursing from the oak tree. “Deanna! Oh my god! What has that witch done to you?”

Dean looks around, but the witch and their house is nowhere to be found.

“The witch cast a spell on me, so I guess your plan for getting the witch’s attention worked as well as you hoped,” Dean informs his father.

“But that witch made you a boy!” John yells with fury.

“S’okay dad,” Dean doesn’t bother telling his dad that he had always been a boy. And that boys can have vaginas too. That if given a choice (like the the witch gave him a minute earlier) Dean would rather have a dick. Dean knew his dad would never understand that the witch didn’t change his gender, the witch just fairy godmother’ed him the parts he would rather have.

“Until we find that witch, we’ll change your name, and I’ll treat you like my son,” John consoles Dean.

“That sounds perfect Dad. Can my new name be Dean?” Dean asks his father.

“Of course, my boy. I don’t know how we’ll explain this to Sammy, but don’t worry Dean. We’ll get through this.” John wraps Dean in a hug, and they begin the walk down the road to where the Impala is parked.

Dean sends a silent prayer of thanks to the witch wherever they are. High above the clouds, the witch has returned to their true form, that of the archangel Gabriel. They hear the prayer and smile back down at Dean.

#Dean is trans #trans dean #John Winchester is transphobic #spn fic #Dean Winchester #transgender #trans man #ftm #john winchester is a piece of shit #john winchester is trash #fuck john winchester

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plant-flwrs · 3 years

Text

some of my ao3 wolfstar recommendations!

i have been reading so much on archive of our own recently, so i thought i’d share a few of my absolute favorites!

also this is only wolfstar rn because i’m obsessed, and most of them are 18+, so, just a warning.

also, if you’re not on ao3, please do yourself the favor and check it out. it’s so amazing and has so much to offer. i have an account that I hope to start posting on over there, right here, so feel free to keep up with me over there!

(and yes, this post IS an open invitation to message me to talk about any of these fics or just wolfstar in general because I need someone to talk about these fics with)

the works are linked, as well as the authors’ accounts. go and show them some love!

The Barista, the Burglar, and the Sofa by SeasOfTrees: Genuinely one of my favorite fics I’ve ever read. The writing is so dry and witty and so absolutely Remus-like, I couldn’t get enough of it. Part of me wished it was an actual series just so I could never stop reading it, but it’s still perfect as a one off.

All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89: This fic RUINED ME. I am going to be completely honest and say that I haven’t been able to bring myself to finish it just because of the PAIN it caused me. If you told me this was a published piece of work and all the Harry Potter books were just fanfictions based on All The Young Dudes, I would believe you with no question. I have come so close to printing and paying for this fic to be bound into a physical copy just because it is so worth it.

Text Talk by merlywhirls: I found this fic one night after crying my body weight in tears because of All The Young Dudes, and I’ve always found texting fics to be fun and lighthearted and just an all around easy read. Remus is a kid with a chronic illness and Sirius is a wholesome pansexual who loves Remus more than anything. Truly adorable. :)

Solntse by lumosinlove (@lumosinlove on tumblr): Oh my god. Okay. So, I’ve never been one for super creative au’s, but this converted me. The idea of Russian!Sirius and a Callboy!Remus makes me melt. In most wolfstar fics, writers use Sirius’ and Remus’ trauma to give them issues in communication, and its done wonderfully, but this fic gives an entire new version of that. The language barrier acts as such a creative hurdle for them to get over, and I loved it so, so, so, much. Also, have google translate ready if you want some extra heart wrenching action. Also, I am in love with @lumosinlove and everything they make <3

Meet You At The Bottom by Remy_Writes5: This made me obsessed with Uncle!Sirius somehow even more than I already was. Also, porn with plot, basically (my kryptonite).

Sweater Weather by lumosinlove: OH MY GOD!!! This fic had me going through a roller coaster of emotions. Once again, never been one for creative au’s, but THIS. This absolutely beautiful piece of artwork had me hooked from the very beginning. The writing is beautiful, the idea is so well executed, and the characterizations are so amazing. It also has a spin off based on some of the original characters, and they are so adorable! Basically, just read everything lumosinlove has ever written, please and thank you.

Casting Moonshadows by Moonsign: Okay, so, I have yet to read this one, but from what heard, it’s like All The Young Dudes but with a different characterization of Remus...? I wanted to give it a try, and I’m adding it here because other people have recommended it to me.

The Kitchens by lumosinlove: Yes, another lumosinlove. I can’t help it. This fic is so beautiful. It has no hesitation in blatantly showing both Sirius’ and Remus’ flaws, while also being so adorable that it hurts. I’m a sucker for royal au’s and this did not let me down.

The Annunciation by bigblackdog: This fic!!! I have little to no knowledge of catholic history, but this fic made me want to. Sirius and Remus are monks set in the Italian renaissance, forbidden love, of course, and the storytelling is so captivating and descriptive. I may not have understood 50% of the religious references, but I sure did enjoy the wolfstar in it.

Dress up in You by MsKingBean89: The ever so talented author, MsKingBean89, my lord and saviour, blessed us with this amazing non-magical, modern, wolfstar, Remus is poor and in a band, Sirius is hot and a hairdresser, masterpiece. Adorable Jilly content in this. It says its incomplete, and usually, that puts me off, but the way this ended is completely fine with me and a genuinely happy ending.

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okay! so, there are some of my favorite wolfstar archive of our own fics. i beg you all to read them, just so I can have someone to talk about them with. i also beg you to create an ao3 account, just because it truly is so amazing. i also may or may not be posting my wolfstar greek island au fic over there relatively soon :0 okay love u guys I hope you enjoyed let me know if you want more compiled lists of my fav fics bc I am more than willing to share.

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midzelink · 3 years

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People of Shadow: Who Were the Twili’s Ancestors, Really?

The speculation surrounding the mysterious origins of the Twili in Twilight Princess is far from a new topic amongst fans of the series; I distinctly remember staying up late into the night scrounging around old forums in my early teens, ingesting thread after thread on the very subject, hoping against hope that someone smarter than me would at last have found the truth amidst the lies. Those kinds of analyses, the pure intrigue that leads to hours of reflection and research, has long been one of the series’ drawing points for me; that no matter how cracked and inconsistent the story Nintendo has chosen to weave, fans of the series will again and again use everything at their disposal to fill in the cracks.

If you’re reading this, it’s highly likely you’re familiar with the the two most common theories: that they were either Sheikah or Gerudo (though the evidence I’ve seen for the latter has always been shaky at best). When you get right down to it, it’s not as if who the Twili once were really matters - it’s certainly something Nintendo didn’t give more than a few seconds thought - but speculating is fun, and something on which I’ve spent much more time than I’d like to admit. Though the reality, of course, could simply be that they were no one, just a hodgepodge group of dark magic users, never before seen, I always found myself asking: If they were anybody, who would they be? Is there any in-game evidence to suggest as much? I would argue that yes, there is - and though what I’ve written here is hardly groundbreaking, it is fairly comprehensive, and with any luck, I’ll be able to convince a few of you along the way.

With all that out of the way, I would at last like to state that, if anyone, I firmly believe the Twili’s ancestors were Sheikah, and I’ve done my best to compile my reasoning for this below.

The Banishment of the “Interlopers”

Before we get into specifics, I wanted to lay some groundwork establishing when, exactly, the Twili’s ancestors were banished by the Light Spirits at the behest of the gods, as the timeline of events will be important in a moment. In Twilight Princess, we first hear about the dark interlopers and their quest for the Sacred Realm from Lanayru; there was an era of peace in Hyrule, but when word of the realm and the holy triangles within it spread, war broke out amidst the populace. From within this greed-fueled chaos arose the interlopers, “wielding powerful sorcery” - and so great was their transgression against the goddesses that they ordered the Light Spirits to seal them away in shadow forever. (If the story of a war breaking out over the Sacred Realm sounds familiar, that’s because the Hyrulean Civil War, which ended shortly before the events of Ocarina of Time, shared the same conflict; it’s entirely possible that the two wars were one and same or overlapped in some fashion, but for this post specifically, that possibility isn’t entirely relevant.)

This era of strife is colloquially referred to as the Interloper War by many, and from Lanayru’s tale alone we can extrapolate that, at the very least, the banishment of the Twili happened before the events of Ocarina of Time; the struggle was fought over the Triforce, after all, which was claimed and broken apart in all three splits of the timeline following the events of that game. It’s also important to note that Ganondorf was banished to the Twilight Realm shortly after the events of Ocarina of Time in the Child Timeline, and that this was long after the Twili’s ancestors had been banished there; so it can be said conclusively that the Interloper War could not have taken place between the events of Ocarina of Time and Twilight Princess.

The Sheikah, Few and Far Between

It was important that we establish a rough estimate of when, exactly, the Twili’s ancestors were banished for one very crucial reason: to shed some light one who they likely weren’t, and who they could have been. At some point before the events of Ocarina of Time, there was a mysterious group of dark magic wielders known only as “the interlopers” that, all at once, were banished to an alternative dimension - an act that, had there been any of their tribe left behind, likely would have put a serious strain on their numbers. And within Ocarina of Time - a game that takes place after this banishment would have occurred - we learn of a tribe who suffered one such fate:

“They say that Princess Zelda's nanny is actually one of the Sheikah, who many thought had died out.”

As we all know, Impa is the only Sheikah present in Ocarina of Time - I would argue not quite the last, if Impaz in Twilight Princess is any indication - but regardless, they are so few and far between that the general populace had one point believed them to be extinct. Things weren’t always this way; at the very least, we can extrapolate that there were a great many Sheikah around the time of time of Skyward Sword, and even within the context of Ocarina of Time, Kakariko Village was in relatively recent history a Sheikah village that was closed off to the common people. What truly happened to the Sheikah that drove them to near extinction is anyone’s guess, but I would argue that it was likely a combination of two things:

the Hyrulean Civil War, which lasted very, very long, had many casualties, and the Sheikah (being in service to the Hyrulean Royal Family) were likely at the forefront of this, and

on top of this, perhaps before or even coinciding with the Civil War, a not unsubstantial number of the Sheikah broke off from their tribe, betrayed the Royal Family, and tried to claim the Triforce and the Sacred Realm as their own.

Of course, this relies on the assumption that the Sheikah could ever, under any circumstances betray the Royal Family - betray Hylia, the goddess whose bloodline it is supposedly their sworn duty to serve. And though I will not be touching on this quite yet, I did want to bring it to attention, as it is overall a crucial piece of the puzzle - but we have some more ground to cover first.

(As for what I meant in the beginning of this segment when I said who they likely weren’t, I was specifically referring to the Gerudo, a people who many others speculated could have been the the Twili’s ancestors. While it’s true that the Gerudo people have mysteriously vanished by the era of Twilight Princess, they are very much present in Ocarina of Time - and we have established that the banishment of the Twili’s ancestors occurred before the events of that game.)

Beings of Shadow, Enter the Twilight Realm

When all is said and done, the coincidental timing of both the banishment of the interlopers and the dwindling numbers of the Sheikah isn’t quite groundbreaking evidence of anything; after all, it would not be completely out of the realm of possibility that the Hyrulean Civil War had been entirely at fault for their dwindling numbers. However, given what we know about how twilight affects ordinary denizens of the world of light, I would argue that Sheikah may have been the only group of people capable of becoming the Twili, and it is for this reason that I feel assured in my conclusions:

“Twilight covered Hyrule like a shroud, and without light, the people became as spirits. Within the twilight, they live on, unaware that they have passed into spirit forms...”

This twilight - the very glow that transforms the unawares citizens into spirits and Link into a beast - is the very same “light” that pervades the Twilight Realm, and it can only be assumed that any ordinary light dwellers banished there would also become as spirits. Yet in the case of the Twili’s ancestors, this emphatically was not the case; they were able to persist, evolving over time to become the Twili we know and love today. When Midna is explaining to Link the history of her people after the duo enter the Gerudo Desert, she says this:

“What do you think happened to the magic wielders who tried to rule the Sacred Realm? They were banished. They were chased across the sacred lands of Hyrule and driven into another realm by the goddesses... Its denizens became shadows that could not mingle with the light.”

And after Link retrieves the Master Sword, breaking the curse that Zant placed on him:

“This thing is the embodiment of the evil magic that Zant cast on you. It's definitely different from our tribe's shadow magic...”

It’s clear that the Twili and their ancestors had and continue to have a very strong connection to shadow. We know that anyone from the world of light who enters the twilight becomes as a spirit; not even wielders of the Triforce are exempt from its effects, though it does, admittedly, affect them in different ways. (Zelda is the one clear exception to this, an anomaly which I go over in this post - a short and recommended read before continuing.) Just as the Twili, a people of shadow, cannot mingle in the world of light, people of light cannot mingle in the world of shadow - but the Twili are hardly the only people in the series to have a strong connection to the shadows.

"Have you heard the legend of the ‘Shadow Folk’? They are the Sheikah...the shadows of the Hylians.”

The Sheikah, time and time again, are referred to as people of shadow; Impa awakens as the Sage of Shadow, and the accursed Shadow Temple lies on the outskirts of her hometown of Kakariko. We know that the twilight affects all whom it touches in the world of light - “light and shadow can’t mix, as we all know” - but what if the light dweller in question were a Sheikah? How could a realm of shadows snuff out the light of one who is already a shadow?

I would like to posit, then, that even if the Twili’s ancestors had been a mixed bag of peoples and cultures drawn together by the lure of the Sacred Realm, only a people like the Sheikah - a tribe who had perfected mastery over shadow magic, so much so that they had become one with them - would have been able to persist in the anti-light of the Twilight Realm and, over centuries or perhaps millennia, evolve to become the Twili. Anyone else would have simply become spirits upon entering the realm, doomed to spend the rest of their days neither alive nor dead.

Eyes of Red, Show Us the Truth

Now, there is one other crucial piece to this puzzle, and it revolves around one other trait that the Sheikah are known for: with the exception of Breath of the Wild (the disparity of which I have my own theories about, but I won’t get into that here), they all have red eyes. This is something that’s never really commented on in any of the games, but it’s an important enough physiological trait that Sheik, who is merely Princess Zelda in disguise as a Sheikah, also bears the distinctive eye color. Though it’s common knowledge that Midna’s eyes are also red (as are the rest of the Twili’s), this alone doesn’t speak much to a correlation between the two peoples; no, in order for this parallel to mean anything, we must first understand the significance of the Sheikah’s red eyes, and how exactly that ties back to the princess of twilight and the rest of her people.

First, let’s take a look at Ocarina of Time. When Kakariko Village is attacked just before Link heads for the Shadow Temple, Sheik has this to say about Impa:

“The evil shadow spirit has been released! Impa, the leader of Kakariko Village, had sealed the evil shadow spirit in the bottom of the well... But the force of the evil spirit got so strong, the seal of the well broke, and it escaped into the world!! I believe Impa has gone to the Shadow Temple to seal it up again...”

Anyone who has played Ocarina of Time knows that the Shadow Temple is a dark and wicked place, teeming with the souls of the undead and illusions that, without the ability to see through, would completely inhibit any progress one would try to make. As Link traverses the temple, he bears the Lens of Truth: a peculiar artifact (importantly, in the shape of a Sheikah Eye) that reveals the world as it truly is. It is a one-of-a-kind item, and without it, no ordinary person would be able to make it through the Shadow Temple, much less fight the invisible monsters that lurk within - but Impa is no ordinary person.

The explanation is really quite simple: the Sheikah’s red eyes are not merely a distinguishing, but purely aesthetic characteristic (like the red hair of the Gerudo), but are indicative of the fact that they can see through even the strongest of illusions with the naked eye. It’s the reason the Lens of Truth was crafted in their image; though one who wields the lens may not be a Sheikah, they, too, can view the world as one with this powerful artifact, seeing through artificial walls, finding invisible items...and even meeting the spirits of the departed.

Let’s go back to Midna; after you first meet her in the sewers of Hyrule Castle, slowly making your way to the rooftops and the imprisoned Zelda beyond, you encounter several spirits of Hyrulean soldiers along the way. Midna taunts you, saying this:

“It looks like the spirits in here... They're all soldiers. Where in the world could we be? Eee hee!”

As a beast, Link is now able to tap into his new “animal senses” to see that which would be invisible to his human eyes. Yet Midna is able to see the spirits as they are, naturally, without any aid whatsoever - almost as if she retained the truth-seeing eyes of her ancestors.

Before we move on, I did want to bring attention to one other thing the Twili and the Shiekah have in common - and though it’s not technically directly related to their shared ability to see the truth of the world around them, it is tangentially related in the sense that it involves illusions. Early on in Twilight Princess, there is a scene where Midna seemingly transforms herself into Colin and subsequently Ilia, taunting Link about the capture of his friends. It’s a somewhat strange occurrence that happens exactly once and is never brought up again, and it happens so early in the game that, for a very long time, I simply brushed it off and never gave it a second thought.

However, I think it’s pretty safe to say that what we’re seeing here is a demonstration of illusion magic - Midna is not literally shapeshifting into Link’s friends, as if she had this ability, she could simply return herself to her true form at any given moment. This is significant because there is a fairly notable example of something identical to this in the very game I mentioned earlier in this segment; in Breath of the Wild, the Yiga Clan, a group of Sheikah who swore allegiance to Calamity Ganon, consistently over the course of the game demonstrate the ability to use illusion magic, posing as weary and lost travelers on the road, waiting to ambush Link and take him by surprise. And though the Yiga may not technically be Sheikah anymore, they were at one time - and I find it exceptionally hard to believe that such a technique would be exclusive to the Yiga and the Yiga alone.

Echoes of the Past

I would, of course, be remiss to not touch on the various architectural and technological similarities between the two peoples. On their own, they aren’t very substantial pieces of evidence - but if we have already accepted the fact that the Twili’s ancestors were, in fact, Sheikah (which, for the purposes of the rest of this essay, I will now do), then it is worth it at the very least to take a look, to paint a somewhat fuller picture of the story.

Take, for instance, the runes in the above photo, adorning the wall behind the throne in the Palace of Twilight. Similar runes adorn the cloak that Midna wears while in her true form, and other miscellaneous places scattered throughout the palace. It is not that much a stretch to say that the large emblem in the center is somewhat reminiscent of the iconic Sheikah Eye, though distorted and changed over time as it may have become. An eye that is unmistakably Sheikah in inspiration even appears on the back of the Fused Shadow, and it is for this reason that I chose that image to head this essay to begin with. But eyes aside, by far the most significant comparison once again returns us to Breath of the Wild, and the Sheikah as they were ten thousand years past.

The ancient-yet-highly-advanced Sheikah technology scattered across the once mighty kingdom of Hyrule in Breath of the Wild simply oozes Twili, from the harsh, blue aesthetic to the angular similarities between the script of the Sheikah and the runes of the Twili. And while it is worth mentioning that this is decidedly technology, and not magic, there is an argument that can be made in the world of fantasy over whether there is in fact a significant difference; looking at the image below of a room in the Palace of Twilight, floating platforms decorated in patterns resembling circuitry, it’s not hard imagine that this is nothing more than highly advanced tech, remnants of a history they left behind.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t especially matter whether either is a case of expressly magic or technology; all we can extrapolate from this information is that the Sheikah who had been banished to the Twilight Realm likely had some rudimentary knowledge of their tribe’s lost technology, had they been banished in an era when it already was lost - or, at the very least, had the same design sensibilities. Whatever the case, it is worth is to try and acknowledge the potential connection, as there is much that can be gleaned by examining the world around us and its history - even a fictional one - and to that end, I would now like to begin wrapping up this unnecessarily long piece of persuasion by doing just that.

Those Who Do Not Learn From History...

...are doomed to repeat it, as the saying goes. Taking everything I’ve written here into consideration, it’s not hard to construe a conceivable timeline of events that could have led to the birth of the Twili, and the eventual invasion of the world of light headed by Zant. Long ago, in an age ravaged by a war over a lust for the Sacred Realm, a sector of Sheikah betrayed the Hyrulean Royal Family, split off from the main clan, and sought their own power - and if the story of a Sheikah betrayal sounds at all familiar, that’s because it emphatically is.

Breath of the Wild is an anomaly in many respects; it seems to defy all expectations of what we understand about the timeline, reviving a people (the Sheikah) who, for all intents and purposes, died out long ago - but it paints a very important picture of what the Shadow Folk had to endure serving underneath the Royal Family of Hyrule, a picture that elucidates precisely why such a betrayal would conceivably take place. The story of the Yiga Clan is, ultimately, one rooted oppression - and though I could go into great detail about the nature of this oppression here, and quite frankly the justification for their cause, I’ve already done so in this post, which I would again encourage be read by anyone who cares about the subject. Very basically, the Yiga were right - having been cast out and mistreated by the very family they served, they did the only thing they could, and turned against them. Glimpses of this mistreatment are riddled in previous entries of the series, but no more jarringly than in Ocarina of Time’s Shadow Temple: a place that likely was once a sacred place to the Sheikah people, reduced to nothing more than a haunted torture chamber recounting Hyrule’s “bloody history of greed and hatred" under direct orders by the Royal Family. In Twilight Princess, Zant specifically refers to Link as “one of the light dwellers who oppressed [their] people” while talking to Midna at Lanayru Spring - and though I would not go so far as to say that Zant was completely justified in his actions, perhaps he had a point. Perhaps the story of the Twili’s ancestors isn’t one of a an evil, mindless group of powerful interlopers who sought power for power’s sake - but one of fierce retaliation. One of a group of people who had soiled their hands with the blood of the Royal Family one final time and said enough. I believe that the Twili’s ancestors were Sheikah, and I will continue to believe it until proven otherwise; for all the reasons listed above, and also because, frankly, if I were a Sheikah, I would betray the Royal Family, too. It happened once - so it will happen again - and again, and again, until the cycle of violence and oppression is studied and learned from, and the truth comes out.

But then, so long as history is written by the winners, it will take more than the red eyes of a Sheikah to parse the truth from the lies.

#twilight princess #ocarina of time #sheikah #twili #yiga #breath of the wild #midna #impa #loz meta #legend of zelda #tloz #loz #analysis #this is actually a heavily revised and edited version of an essay from earlier last year #but that was back when this blog was new and also it was bad #i'm a lot happier with how this one came out!#text #mywriteups*#myposts*

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secretkeeper13 · 3 years

Text

Flirt

I decided to try my hand at an outside perspective Hinny OC. Just a bit of fluff, some humor (hopefully), and a bit of cringe. I hope you enjoy poor, sweet Craig! Also on Ao3.

The sun shone through the windows of the Three Broomsticks, casting rays of light across the dark wooden booths and tables. The pub was crowded- it was a Saturday, after all, and from the looks of it, plenty of Magpies fans had decided to apparate directly from the match, their black and white jerseys giving the room the appearance of a wonky chessboard. It was still late afternoon, so families with small children were mixed in among the regulars, contributing to the noisy din.

The table his mates chose was near the entrance, and he sat facing the door as he talked and laughed with them. It was strange, being here, all together, the six of them, now that they were out of school. They were still close- it was hard to live with people for seven years and not become friends. Though, he’d heard stories from others who couldn’t stand the people in their dormitories, so they were lucky in that regard, he supposed.

They’d been at the pub for less than an hour, after walking down from Dan’s flat on High Street once the match ended. He’d missed being around his mates every day, and they’d quickly made up for lost time, talking, joking, and laughing as if they were back in the dorm at Hogwarts and no time had passed since they’d all been together last.

“Let’s hear it Craig, got yourself any birds recently?”

Dan’s teasing tone jolted him out of his thoughts. His cheeks colored a bit at being called out.

“Nah, mate, Craigey-boy’s still hung up on Cressida,” Will chimed in, and Craig shot an annoyed look at his flat mate.

“I’m not hung up on her. And I have been out with other girls, you’ve been there. Stop taking the mick.”

Will grinned at him and raised his eyebrow. “Haven’t brought any home though, have you?”

Craig sighed. When he and Cressida split up this summer after seventh year, it hadn’t been on bad terms. She was off to Egypt to be a curse breaker for Gringotts, and he had no desire to leave England, so they’d gone their separate ways. He’d been happy living as a bachelor in London with Will, but he did miss her. Well, he missed the companionship of having a girlfriend, he supposed, trying not to think about her piercing blue eyes, the casual way she would ruffle his hair, or the way she kissed. He’d supposed that being with someone for so long- nearly two years- made it harder to move on. He couldn’t really picture being with anyone other than her.

“It isn’t like I haven’t been trying. You saw me get off with that girl outside the Leaky last month. Wouldn’t shut up about it for days, in fact.”

Will laughed. “Didn’t bring her home though.”

He hadn’t brought her home. She was good looking, but not as pretty as Cressida. And to be honest, she hadn’t been a very good snog either, so really, what was the point?

“Mate, you need to get a leg over. It’s been what, six months now?” Ben asked.

Craig glared at him. They all knew full well how long it had been since he and Cressida split. Ben grinned back at him.

“Well, maybe today’ll be the day,” he shot back.

“To Craigey getting laid!” Will called, and they all raised their glasses to toast him in jest as he flipped them off with two fingers.

Not a quarter hour later, he happened to look up just as a gorgeous girl walked in the door of the pub. She was petite, and wearing a tight turtleneck sweater in dark green, with red hair cascading past her shoulders down to her tits, which were full for her small frame. She glanced around, as if looking for someone, then headed over to the bar. Craig’s stomach fluttered in anticipation. This could be exactly what he’d been waiting for.

“Next rounds on me,” he said to the table, gesturing over to the bar, where the girl stood. Her position at the bar meant that her back was to their table, so they couldn’t see her face, only her long, shiny red hair. She was wearing tight, tan trousers tucked into brown boots that came up to below her knees, and she had a fantastic arse, he noted.

Will made a low whistle and nodded in appreciation.

“Go get her Clarke,” Dan said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Craig stood up and walked over to the bar. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair. He was nervous, and a bit tipsy, as they’d cracked open the firewhisky as soon as they’d arrived at Dan’s place. He took a breath to steady himself, then he sidled up next to her at the bar.

“Packed today, isn’t it?” he said, trying to sound casual, as if he chatted up fit girls all the time.

“Yes, by the looks of it we’re in for a bit of a wait,” she said, looking at the lone barmaid and the patrons stacked two deep up and down the long bar.

“Well, in that case... I’m Craig. Craig Clarke,” he said, extending his hand and giving her a boyish grin.

She looked surprised for a second, but then she took his hand and shook it, her hand small and warm in his.

“Pleasure to meet you, Craig,” she said, smiling. She exuded confidence. Her eyes were a lovely shade of warm brown and seemed to shine in the afternoon light.

He was so captivated by her that it was only later that he realized she’d never told him her name.

“Do you come here often?” he asked, and as soon as he said it, he inwardly cringed at the obvious line.

Her lips turned up into a small smile, almost like a smirk, he thought.

“Not since I was in school.”

“Oh, I went to Hogwarts as well. Just finished last year. Hufflepuff. What house were you in?”

“I was a Gryffindor,” she replied, and her smile got broader and more impish, making his heart beat faster.

She wasn’t in his year, or he obviously would’ve known her. There was something oddly familiar about her, though- like he knew her, but couldn’t place her. She must’ve been a year or two ahead of him. Maybe he’d seen her in the corridors. He wouldn’t have forgotten a face like hers if he’d met her properly, of that he was certain.

“I didn’t know many Gryffindors outside of my year. Dated a Ravenclaw though. Spent far too much time in their common room, unfortunately.” He was rambling like an idiot, he thought, but unable to stop himself. And, why, why was he mentioning his ex? Her smile was dazzling and it was too much, almost like looking directly into the sun.

“You and me both.”

“Swotty lot aren’t they?”

She laughed, a silvery tinkling sound, and her nose crinkled up a bit, which was adorable. He was smitten.

“I don’t normally come up to Hogsmeade either anymore, but one of my mates in my year works for Dervish and Banges, and we all came to his today to listen to the Montrose game.”

“Over quick, wasn’t it? Their new seeker had quite the debut.”

“You follow Quidditch?” he asked, delighted, though it was clear she did. She really was perfect, this girl.

“In a manner of speaking,” she said, almost coyly, and that smirk had returned.

“Which team do you support? I’m a Puddlemere man myself. Muggle born, so I got into it late. Brilliant sport though.”

“Harpies, through and through.” She bit her bottom lip, as if to keep from smiling wider. Her coy looks were driving him mad.

He wanted to keep the conversation going. Hopefully, he could work up the courage to ask her out.

“I live in London now. I work for the Magical Menagerie, caring for all the animals there. What do you do?” he asked. Perhaps she lived in London too. Maybe they’d know some of the same people, and he could invite her out with a group of his friends.

“Well, I’ve just had a bit of a career change. I’m a correspondent for the Prophet now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I just started, but yes, so far I do.”

“Well good luck with the change. My mate Will,” he gestured over to the booth where his friends sat, “just went through the whole career change bit. He took a job at the Ministry in the Department of Transportation right out of Hogwarts. His Deputy Head was a real stickler- impossible to work for, everything had to be just so- you know the type. He only lasted four months before he managed to get a transfer over to International Magical Cooperation. He likes it much better there, thankfully.”

“Yes, I definitely know the type,” she said, and her right hand covered her mouth as she seemed to suppress a giggle. He wasn’t sure what was funny about his comment, but he didn’t much care so long as he was making her laugh.

“Oi, Clarke, what’s taking so long? You getting our round or what!” his friends heckled him from the table.

“Come off it, it’s packed,” he called back, but they were all clearly engrossed in some drinking game they were playing and just ribbing him.

He turned back to her. “Sorry about my mates. Bunch of blokes together, you know how it is.”

“I’m very familiar, trust me.” There was that smile again, so coy.

“What’ll it be love?” the haggard barmaid asked as she finally reached them.

He turned to her and smiled. “What would you like? It’s on me.”

“Oh,” she said, looking apologetic, “I couldn’t possibly, it’s really alright.”

“No, I insist, you’ve been such good company, let me buy you a drink.”

“No really, I-“

“Oh come on love, let him buy you the drink. I don’t have all day. Bars two deep right now,” said the barmaid, looking extremely exasperated.

“Just a butterbeer for me please,” she said to the barmaid, and then he placed the order for their round.

“Craig,” she said as the barmaid walked away. God, he loved the way his name sounded when she said it. “Listen, you’re very kind, but...”

“Mum-Mum! Mum-Mum!”

A baby, maybe a year old, babbling nonsense, appeared on her other side in the arms of a tall man wearing a baseball cap. The baby grasped her long hair, the smooth copper strands peeking through his tiny fist. He had thick, dark hair that stuck up in the back, and big brown eyes. Eyes that were exactly the same shade as hers, Craig noticed.

“Oh, Jim-Jams,” she cooed, taking the baby from the arms of the tall man holding him.

He was confused. Surely, she didn’t have a baby? She was probably only a year or two older than he was. Maybe a nephew, he thought.

The man who handed the baby to her was holding a knapsack over his shoulder and looked a bit frazzled. “I’m sorry we’re late to meet you, Gin. Didn’t expect the game to end so quickly. And then, on the way out, I turned my back for a half-second to grab more floo powder to refill the tin on the mantle, and he crawled into the loo, pulled himself up, and was splashing his hand around in the toilet. Had to give him a bath, didn’t want to chance a charm with that.”

She winced, then chuckled. “I told you he’s getting fast! And it’s alright, don’t worry. Neville’s not here yet either. He sent me a patronus that he’d got tied up with something. He should be on his way down now.”

Craig’s confusion grew. Who was this Neville? He hoped it wasn’t a boyfriend she was meeting.

“Mum-Mum!” the baby said again, as he settled on her hip, breaking into a wide, four-toothed smile.

She beamed down at the baby. “Hello, James. Mummy missed you, cheeky little monkey.” She reached her left hand up to stroke his cheek, and he noticed, for the first time, her wedding ring.

At this, the wheels, which had been turning far too slowly in his head, finally clicked into place.

He felt his face flush with complete embarrassment. He’d just been trying to chat up a married woman- the mother of a baby, for fuck’s sake. Well done, Craig . She probably thought he was a complete cad.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said to her, his words rushed and incredibly apologetic. “I didn’t realize, I had no idea...”

She held up her hand and smiled at him. “It’s alright, you were very kind, really.”

“Gin, I think I see Neville on his way,” the man said. The man (her husband, Craig corrected himself, groaning inwardly at his absolute stupidity in failing to realize this sooner) was looking out the front window, onto High Street. Craig hoped he’d missed their exchange.

The man turned back to face their direction, his round glasses catching the light. He looked at Craig with a bemused expression. Dark stubble lined the man’s jaw, and black hair was visible under the cap. He looked a bit like Harry Potter, Craig thought, thinking of the Witch Weekly poster Cressida had of him for ages. Quite a lot, actually.

Then, realization, followed immediately by absolute horror, washed over him as he looked back at the red-haired woman.

Ginny Potter. He’d been trying to chat up Ginny Potter. The star chaser for the Harpies, whose poster had hung above Ben’s bed in the dormitory since fourth year, for fuck’s sake. How had he not realized it? Ginny Potter, who’d been on the cover of every newspaper for months when she’d decided to retire because she was having a baby. Harry Potter’s baby. He’d been hitting on Harry Potter’s bloody wife for the last five minutes.

His jaw was agape as he stared at her and tried to form words. He probably looked like a giant goldfish, he thought.

“You’re...” he gulped, still looking at her, his cheeks on fire. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. I’m a bit drunk, you see. And I thought you were maybe a year or two older than me, not...” he trailed off, feeling like a complete idiot and wanting nothing more than to disappear.

She laughed, but it was genuine and not unkind. “Don’t apologize, it was refreshing, actually. Gives me hope for an anonymous future,” she said, and she winked at him. He felt his face flush even more.

He turned to the man, to Harry Potter, he corrected himself. “Mr. Potter, sir, thank you. I’m Muggleborn and started at Hogwarts a year after the battle. Wouldn’t have been able to go without all you did.”

God, he was babbling like an idiot. The baby was more coherent.

Harry Potter shifted a bit and looked uncomfortable at his praise. “That’s very kind of you to say. But I had loads of help, it wasn’t just me.”

“Daaaa,” gurgled the baby, who now had his hand on Ginny Potter’s breast, patting it happily. Craig immediately tried to look anywhere else. His face was even redder, he was certain. He stared at the bar top as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

Just when he thought his humiliation was complete, he heard a familiar voice.

“Hullo Harry, Ginny. And James! Merlin, he’s grown! Getting to be a big boy now, aren’t you?”

Craig looked up into the round, smiling face of his favorite professor, who was pretending to shake the baby’s hand as the baby gurgled and laughed. Oh, how he wished the day would end.

“Hello, Professor Longbottom.”

“Clarke! How’s the Menagerie going? I’ve missed your N.E.W.T. class this year more than I can say.”

“It’s going well, sir. I’m actually in charge of preparing all the food for the creatures- we’ve got a small greenhouse off the back, so I’ve been doing some growing myself.”

Professor Longbottom looked pleased, but then he asked the question Craig was dreading. “Craig, have you met Harry and Ginny Potter?”

“Oh, erm, yes actually...” he stammered, unable to think of how to politely phrase that he’d just tried to chat up Mrs. Potter because he thought she was fit and didn’t recognize her.

“Craig was kind enough to keep me company while I waited for Harry to arrive,” Mrs. Potter interjected. He shot her a grateful look.

“Drinks, loves.” The barmaid returned with a butterbeer and six glasses of firewhiskey.

Craig paid her and turned to Mrs. Potter to hand her the butterbeer.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, as Harry Potter put his arm around her waist.

“Rosmerta’s saved us the back corner booth,” Professor Longbottom said, glancing to the empty booth tucked away in the far corner, away from the bar and the tables, “We’d best be off before these two are recognized by anyone else.”

“Goodbye, Professor, Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” he said, nodding to them. “Enjoy the afternoon.”

“Goodbye Craig,” Mrs. Potter said, smiling at him, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “And if you wouldn’t mind not mentioning it to anyone else that Harry is here, we’d appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding, just wanting the whole thing to be over.

“Bye-bye,” said the baby, waving unprompted at him. Great, even the baby was having a go at him, Craig thought. Mrs. Potter laughed delightedly, and Mr. Potter exclaimed, “Clever boy, James!” They turned and walked off towards the back corner booth.

When they were gone, he finally exhaled, and slumped against the bar. He motioned over Will to help him carry the drinks back to the table.

As soon as he sat down, he began to gulp his firewhisky in earnest, wanting to forget that the horribly embarrassing incident had ever occurred.

“So what happened, mate?” Dan asked.

“Oh, erm, turned out she was married. Talked to her for a few minutes before I saw the ring.”

“Tough luck,” said Will. “Didn’t get a good look at her face, but she was fit.”

Craig nodded, still drinking. “What are you playing?” he asked, eager to change the subject, and then he threw himself into their game of 21, wishing for all the world that he and Cressida had never broken up. Not just because he missed her, which he did (he finally admitted to himself)- but because if they hadn’t, this never would have happened.

An hour and a half and more firewhisky later, Craig was feeling pleasantly numb. Some of the mortification had subsided, at least. And then suddenly, he looked up, and she was there, alone, standing next to his chair.

“Craig, we’re heading out, but thank you for being so kind earlier. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered.”

“Oh, erm, it was nothing, really,” he said, feeling himself blush and wishing he could sink into the stone floor and disappear.

“Rosmerta will be over in a mo’. The next rounds on me, boys, enjoy yourselves,” she said to the table, before giving Craig a wink and a wave. Then, she turned, walked out the door, and disappeared with a pop before the door swung shut. His friends immediately turned to him.

“Was that?!”

“She’s bloody fit she is. Even better than in photos.”

“Damn, Harry Potter is a lucky sod.”

“Wait, you tried to chat up Ginny Potter?!”

“I didn’t recognize her!” he moaned, putting his head in his hands as his mates erupted into laughter. God, he would never, ever hear the end of this.

As his friends began to tease him in earnest (and really, he couldn’t blame them), Craig swore to himself that he would never try to flirt with some random girl at a bar again. He’d be single forever over ever reliving the humiliation of what happened today. Or maybe, he would write to Cressida tonight. Yes, he would write to her as soon as he got home.

#hinny fanfic #fluff #cringe #sweet himbo #poor craig #ginny weasley is hot

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

Text

Love Poison

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: You plan to take extreme measures to catch Loki’s eye. Unfortunately, things backfire terribly. Can something good come of the mess? Warnings: use of a love potion (putting this here because in case that bothers some people) but I think that’s it A/N: For @tom-hlover. Thanks for requesting and hope you enjoy!

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs

Disclaimer: Picture not mine

You glanced out the window of Tony’s lab. In the week since you’d been promoted to his personal assistant, you’d seen more of the Avengers than you had in your almost five years of working at the Tower. In fact, you’d seen all but the one you’d really been hoping to. Loki. You had a little crush on the god, you would admit, but you had no hope of getting to know him if he never stopped by the lab. You considered asking your boss about him, but decided that the embarrassment wasn’t worth the risk. So, instead, you kept on waiting.

Your lucky break came one day when Tony sent you to the kitchen to get him some coffee. A large part of you wanted to suggest sleep instead, since he’d pretty obviously been up since you’d left the Tower last night. But you were still too new to the job to be so bold. You were in the middle of pouring Tony’s drink when a certain raven haired god came rushing in, snickering to himself. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed you.

“Who are you?” he asked sharply, as if he had been caught in the middle of something. Judging by the box of glowing vials he had with him, you supposed he might be. “How did you get in here?”

“Oh! I, uh, I work for Tony. I’m his new lab assistant,” you responded shyly, telling him your name.

“Ah, I see. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Loki of Asgard. That doesn’t happen to be Stark’s drink in your hands, does it?”

“Actually, yeah, it is. May I ask why?”

Loki peered over his shoulder before turning back to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. You were almost certain your heart would beat out of your chest if you stayed in this close proximity to him any longer, but he finally began to explain himself.

“I was hoping to slip a potion into it. I had been planning on just dumping it into the coffee pot, but it would much easier if you could help me sneak it into the cup. Do not worry, I will not let you get into trouble. I will gladly take full blame. And, before you ask, it is completely safe.”

You contemplated for a minute trying to choose between your new job and Loki. The choice was pretty obvious, though, as you always tended to think more with your heart than your head. Maybe this could even spark a friendship between you and the god.

“Ok,” you nodded. “What’s it going to do?”

“It will make him burst out into uncontrollable laughter,” Loki explained as he set a few vials on the island, looking for the right one. “A harmless prank, really, but all I can get away with these days.”

A few moments later he was saying goodbye and hurrying off to enact his next prank. So much for that friendship you were hoping would bloom. Except, he’d left a potion behind. Maybe you could return it to him, and at least get another conversation out of it. But then you looked at the label and got another plan entirely. It was a love potion.

Ten minutes later you were staring at the bottle of glowing purple-pink liquid. Tony had run out to yell at Loki, knowing immediately who had been responsible for his sudden laughter. There were blueprints to be working on, you knew, but you’d had an idea, and it was proving nearly impossible to get it out of your mind. If you could just see Loki again, find him again, you could give him a drink with the potion in it. Not a lot, just a drop. Just nudge him into having feelings for you. Then once he got to know you, maybe the potion would have worked its way out of his system and his feelings would be real.

Almost without knowing what you were doing, you were pouring some of the contents in a cup of water. You poured yourself a cup of water, too, suddenly feeling very anxious. Was this right? You hadn’t technically stolen it or anything. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t the issue. This was crazy. It was manipulative. Everything about your relationship will have started out as a lie. Maybe you just needed another sip of water to calm down.

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself as you realized you’d drunk out of the wrong cup. Your mind went into full panic mode before focusing solely on Loki.

You skipped through the halls of the Tower, looking for your otherworldly prince. He said your name in a question as he almost collided into you. Immediately he knew something was off, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It would bug him until he could.

“Did Stark send you after me?” he questioned. “I do not suppose you would be willing to help me out a second time?”

“Tony didn’t send me,” you brazenly replied. “I’m here to ask you on a date, Loki.”

“And why,” he said in a sharp laugh of disbelief, “would you do that?”

“Because I’m in love with you.”

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face. Not only was that an outrageous thing to say because you hardly knew each other, it was unbelievable because he was, well, him. Plus, you seemed a lot more bold than you had earlier. He almost didn’t believe it was the same person. Maybe you had a twin running around. Or maybe it was drugs. But no. He’d seen the effect drugs had on Midgardians before, and this was different. Still, he could not figure it out.

“That is lovely, but-”

“He would love to!” Thor cut his brother off as he appeared from around the corner. “How about you get some coffee? You like coffee, right brother?”

“No.”

“It’s perfect considering how we met,” you giggled as Loki grimaced. “I know a place that has coffee and tea, if you like that better.”

Loki desperately wanted to decline, but it was the last thing he needed for his image. Besides, he was pretty sure Thor would drag him there even if he said no.

“Very well. I shall meet you in the lobby at seven.”

“See you later, Loki,” you giggled as you waved goodbye, leaving to go doodle his name in your notebook.

“Well, well, brother,” Thor said. “I had no idea you had finally realized what an eligible bachelor you are. Good for you, putting yourself out there.”

“I suppose you were not at the same conversation I was,” Loki said wryly. “You put me out there. I was about to say no.”

“Come now, it will be good for you. Why do you seem so dismayed?”

“It does not make sense that they like me. No, they said love, actually. For one, I hardly know them. For two, I am me, don’t forget. Harbinger of destruction in the Battle of New York. Something is not adding up.”

“Just enjoy this, brother. Someone has realized how wonderful you are and asked you out. It is just how things work on Midgard.”

“Perhaps,” Loki mused, wracking his brain. “But I must do some research. There may be magic involved.”

“You know what,” his brother sighed, “I am going to help you just to prove this is real.”

“If you must.”

The search proved fruitless, but Loki was determined to comb through more of his enchantment books later. Right now, however, he had to meet you. For a date. The whole thing still sounded absolutely absurd. Though, he would admit you did look rather adorable bundled in your coat, ready to go out in the cold night air. Being the gentleman that he was, he offered you his arm, which you excitedly took as you giggled. That was another thing, why were you suddenly so bubbly? It was a far cry from the shy, easily flustered person he’d met earlier. He added it to his mental list of possible symptoms of whatever was afflicting you.

About an hour later, the two of you were still seated in the small café you’d brought him to. Loki was, surprisingly, enjoying himself. He had to keep reminding himself that this was not real, that he shouldn’t get too attached, for he was sure he’d figure this out sooner or later.

“Really?” you laughed as he finished his story.

“Yes, the entire chair just gave out from under him,” he recalled, telling you of one of the many times he’d pranked Thor in their youth. “After all, he’d just said to stop gluing him to it. Everything else was fair game. The best part was father never could prove I was behind it.”

“I wish I was clever like that. Or could do magic.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of a Midgardian working seiðr before, but I suppose nothing is impossible. I fear I may not be the best teacher, though. I lack the patience a good teacher should possess.”

“You seem plenty patient to me. Loki, you’re...” you said, nervously casting your eyes down to the floor, “well, you’re amazing.”

He blushed at your words, but accepted them with a small thank you. You’d calmed down considerably throughout the course of the evening, now seemingly fully captivated in your conversation with Loki. And he even found himself thinking that he didn’t mind your company, a rare thing indeed. Maybe Thor was right after all. Maybe this was real. As much as he wanted to believe that, deep down, he still knew something was very, very wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki took you out again a week later. After a dinner out in the city, he had nervously brought you back to the Tower for a movie on his couch. It had been Thor’s idea, though he seemed to have been hinting at something else by suggesting Loki bring you back to his quarters. But, thankfully, you didn’t seem particularly interested in any of those things. Rather, you were content to just sit with Loki and let the movie play. You were curled into his side, cuddling him. It took someone actually wanting to be near to him to make him realize how touch starved he actually was. It alarmed him at first, to have you so close, but he relaxed as you began methodically braiding and unbraiding a few locks of his hair. A small smile played at his lips as he thought of the domestic simplicity of it.

“Hey, Loki,” you said. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I am too. And to think, it all started with a simple prank.”

Loki suddenly stood up from the couch, accidentally pushing you off him. He apologized as he rushed over to his bookcase. Remembering how you’d first met had made him think of something; he’d been searching for an enchantment, but he’d never considered it being the effect of a potion. Reading the page in the book, he realized you were exhibiting all the symptoms. He sighed and checked his potion box, hoping against hope that he would find nothing missing. Unfortunately, he did.

He’d packed up his things so quickly that he must have left one behind and, one way or another, you’d consumed it. And of course it had to be that one of all the options. It was more love poison than love potion, he thought to himself as he scoffed. He sat down and plopped onto the couch, burying his head in his hands.

“Loki?” you hesitantly asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, my darling, I am so sorry. It is all my fault,” he apologized, taking your hands as confusion sparked behind your eyes. “It may take a little time, but I will fix this. For now, you should go home.”

“But, Loki,” you sniffled. “I don’t want to. What’s happening? Can I see you tomorrow?”

He hesitated. He really shouldn’t let this continue, for both your sakes. “I... Yes, I will you see you tomorrow. Do not worry about what is going on, I will take care of it.”

You sniffled some more, but acquiesced. After placing a kiss to his cheek, you set off towards your flat, leaving the unfinished movie playing in the background. Loki immediately started preparing the antidote. It would take nearly a week to fully brew, and he tried to figure out what to do with you in the meantime. He feared that if he kept seeing you, you would hate him when you came to. But, if he rejected you now, you might become violent and unpredictable. Better to keep you safe. And, if he was lucky for once in his life, maybe he could have a chance with you once you were in your right mind.

As soon as the antidote finished, Loki prepared to give it to you. He’d found the bottle of love potion hidden in Tony’s lab and concluded you couldn’t have used more than a few drops. He even dared hope for a second that you hadn’t used it, after all, but then he noticed the seal had been broken. The small dosage must have been the reason he didn’t recognize the side effects as belonging to it right away. The larger the dosage, the more intense the effects.

“Hi Loki,” you greeted as he opened the door for you.

“Hello, darling.”

“Is something wrong?” you asked, cupping his cheek. “You seem upset.”

“I am fine. May I interest you in a glass of water? Tea? Anything to drink, really.”

“Oh! I guess water sounds good. Thanks,” you smiled.

He handed you the cup and waited while you took a sip. The effects were almost instantaneous, filling him with both joy and sadness at the same time. You gazed around the room with a dazed look on your face. Loki helped you to a chair as you regained your senses.

“Oh my gosh,” you gasped. “Loki, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what, darling? I am the one who left the potion lying around.”

“Yes, but,” you started, wondering how much you could get away with. You decided it was just best to come clean. “I should have returned it as soon as I saw it. Not... not try to give it to you. Serves me right that I accidentally took it myself.”

“You were trying to give it to me?” Loki inquired with furrowed brows. “What would you do a thing like that for?”

“Because,” you gulped, “I really do have a crush on you, Loki. I was desperate, I guess. But that’s no excuse, so yeah, I’m sorry. I should go now.”

“Wait,” he called after you before you could run off. You were rather charming, he thought. And he did believe that he got to know a bit of the real you through the potion. Besides, maybe Thor was right, and it was time he put himself out there. “I know we did not start under the best circumstances, but I would like to take you on a real date if you will allow it. Say, tonight?”

“Really?” you squeaked in disbelief. “I would love to, Loki.”

“Just do me one favor, darling. Stay away from potions, please.”

“Believe me,” you nervously laughed, “I plan on it.”

You scurried away to text your friends about the crazy turn of events. Loki smiled after you before destroying the rest of the love potion, happy that some good was able to come out of the whole mess. But there was one thing he knew for certain; he’d be swearing off potion making for quite some time.

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years

Text

soulmates ~ paul lahote;twilight

word count: 1827

request?: yes!

“i screamed in joy when i saw that you write for twilight as well! can i request a Paul Lahote imagine with a witch!reader? the pack are patrolling & comes across the reader who was using her magic, then Paul imprints on her while on his wolf form & he just starts rubbing his head on her? it’ll be great if the reader has a feeling that Paul is her soulmate/imprint. they meet for 2nd time after that but this time Paul is human. just a bunch of fluff!”

description: in which she meets her soulmate in his animal form and tries to find him to know who he really is

pairing: paul lahote x witch!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

There wasn’t much to know about her soulmate after their first meeting. He had approached her with his pack while she was trying to cast a protective spell on Forks. The pack were angry when they first saw her, baring their teeth and ready to attack. She was preparing a get away when one of the wolves stepped forward. His eyes were wide, as if he were in a trance. He had approached her, slowly and cautiously, before rubbing against her.

She wasn’t sure how she figured out that he was her soulmate. She just knew. There was a feeling she had the moment he began to rub his giant head against her, like all she wanted to do was to protect him and keep him safe. There was an unspoken agreement throughout the pack that they would not hurt (Y/N), and left instead, running as fast as possible in the other direction. Her wolf stopped long enough to look at her, longingly, over his shoulder, before he followed the pack.

Under any normal circumstances, (Y/N) would’ve thought she’d never meet her soulmate face to face, unless it was a chance encounter. But, lucky for her, both of them were anything but normal.

(Y/N) found a hair from the wolf left on her clothes, which was all she needed to cast a tracking spell. She waited until night fall as to not draw any attention to herself, and night made her spells more dramatic sometimes. She sat on the floor of her small house and closed her eyes. She focused solely on her memory of the wolf; his dark silver fur, his light brown eyes, his towering form as he approached her.

In her hand, (Y/N) held the hair that the wolf had left on her. She whispered the spell, her voice soft but focused. She began to see a vision of a house, a small house. She could see young men approaching the house, and a woman with a horribly scarred face; she was young but she was like a mother to them. She could see that the house was surrounded by forest, and there was no clear number or address of where it was.

“Come on,” she whispered to herself before continuing her spell.

Before she knew it, she was seeing the exact path from the small house to her own. She frantically grabbed for the pen and paper she had left for herself and quickly drew the route as it played over for her once more. Once she had it drawn, her eyes snapped open and she gasped. As she tried to regain her breath, she looked down to see a perfect map from her house to the place where her soulmate was. She looked at it for a long time before smiling.

In the morning, she would embark on her adventure, and she would find her soulmate.

~~~~~~

(Y/N) slowed the car to a stop in front of the house from her vision. There was barley any sign of life besides smoke coming from a chimney. There were no cars, none of the young men from her vision, nor the mother like woman. It seemed empty and she wondered if she was too late.

She got out of the car and approached the house. Her mind was screaming at her to turn around and to leave again. There was a chance she was at the wrong place, or her wolf soulmate and his pack had already up and left before she found them, but she had to know for sure. She couldn’t leave without getting some form of answers.

She knocked on the door and waited for any movement inside. (Y/N) mentally cursed at herself for not bringing the hair in case she had to do another spell. It would’ve been easier to find him from there and not to have to go all the way back to her house for a stupid hair. Luckily for her, however, the scarred woman answered the door.

(Y/N) was shocked and realized she hadn’t prepared anything to say. How did she explain why she was there without sounding insane? Lamely, she managed to force herself to say, “Hi.”

The woman looked her up and down a moment before saying, “So, you’re the one Paul won’t shut up about.”

(Y/N) was taken back by the comment. So his name was Paul, and he hadn’t stopped talking about her since their brief meeting? “I think so, I haven’t exactly gotten to know much about him yet.”

The woman smiled warmly at her. “Come in.”

She poured (Y/N) a cup of tea and introduced herself as Emily, the fiancee of the pack leader, Sam.

“The silver wolf that rubbed against you was Paul,” she explained as the two women sat at the table in the kitchen. “He’s the third in command of the pack, and the most impulsive one. The boys were shocked that he didn’t go right for an attack when he saw you.”

“That’s comforting,” (Y/N) said with an awkward chuckle.

“They didn’t know what you are,” Emily explained. “You’re a new entity to them, and you were in their territory. They were willing to protect the territory from whatever you were.”

(Y/N) nodded. That did make sense, but now she felt uncomfortable sitting in the house of a pack of werewolves if it meant they might attack her.

The sound of male voices approaching the house drew the attention of both women. (Y/N) was tempted to flee before they arrived, but she wanted to meet Paul face to face. She wanted to see the human face of her soulmate, to learn more about him, and she didn’t want to fear his friends.

The men came into the house, roughhousing and laughing. They all seemed to stop simultaneously when they noticed that Emily wasn’t alone, and they came to recognize who was sat with her.

“Gentlemen,” Emily started, smiling softly at them. “This is (Y/N).”

One of the men stepped away from the group to approach her. (Y/N) rose from her seat, looking deep into his brown eyes. It didn’t take long to clue in that this was her wolf, her soulmate. She could tell just by looking at him.

“You found us,” he finally said. His voice sounded like music to her ears.

She chuckled. “I did. You left a helpful hint behind on my clothes.”

(Y/N) held out the silver fur that Paul had left on her. He looked at her in amazement, wanting to reach out to touch her to prove that she was real. He hesitated. This was the first time they were truly meeting, he didn’t want to scare her away so quickly.

“How did you find us?” one of the pack members asked.

“And what are you?” another added. (Y/N) could tell by the authority in his voice that he was the alpha, Sam.

“I’m a witch,” she responded. “As far as I know I’m the only of my kind here in Forks.”

The pack looked skeptical, except for Paul, who was still entranced by (Y/N).

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” she continued. “When you caught me in the field, I was casting a protective spell over Forks. I’ve heard of the animal attacks, the ones that aren’t exactly animals. I was hoping to cast a spell to protect the people of Forks and to cast whatever, or whoever, is behind those attacks out. You interrupted me when you arrived.”

“Forks doesn’t need your witchy voodoo, they have us,” one of the younger members of the pack spoke.

“Embry,” Sam said, sternly. He turned to face Paul and the two of them shared a look. “I think you two should talk in private.”

Paul turned to (Y/N) to ask, “Want to go for a walk?”

~~~~~~

The two walked in silence through the woods for some time. Neither really knew what to say. What do you say when you’re meeting your soulmate for the first time?

“I feel like we both have a lot of questions,” Paul finally said, breaking the tense silence.

“Not many I can think of, but I’m sure more will come up,” (Y/N) agreed. “What do you want to know?”

“Why did you come find me?”

“Witches believe that everyone has a soulmate, but when you’re a witch or a wizard, you actually know when you’ve met your soulmate. There’s this feeling of electricity when you touch for the first time, a desire to spend all your time with that person, to know as much about them as you possibly could. I was hoping to be able to actually talk to you, but you and the pack ran off so quickly. I was left to my own devices to find you.”

“A spell, I’d assume.”

(Y/N) nodded. “There’s a spell to track people, but only to where they normally reside. There’s no way to track them to their exact location, which is why I took a chance coming here to see if I could find you.”

Paul moved in close enough that his arm brushed (Y/N). She felt another spark of electricity, confirming her suspicions that he was supposed to be her soulmate.

“About the pack,” she continued. “Emily mentioned that I was in your territory, and usually the pack attacks non-humans in their territory. Why didn’t you guys attack me? Why were you so reserved when you approached me?”

“Shifters also have something like soulmates, except we call it Imprinting,” Paul explained. “It came happen whenever, to whoever. There’s never a warning, a premonition. You see the person and you just...you know. You’re connected to them for life, whether it’s romantically, platonically, in a sort of brotherly way. However the person they’ve imprinted on wants them to be. Once someone in the pack has imprinted, there’s this rule that the rest of the pack leaves that person alone. Even if you were something dangerous, the pack would have to leave you be since I imprinted on you.”

(Y/N) nodded along to Paul’s explanation. “Anything the imprintee wants to be, huh?”

Paul stopped and turned to look at her, causing (Y/N) to stop walking as well. “Anything, which leads to the question of us. What do you want us to be?”

(Y/N) didn’t take much time to think it over. Instead, she took Paul’s face in her hands and pulled him to her, pressing her lips against his. It caused that stereotypical feeling of fireworks that is always mentioned in romance novels, except (Y/N) new that was the electricity of their soulmate bond.

Paul held her to him as he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

“Is that a good enough answer?” she asked, a cheeky grin on her face.

Paul smiled back. “That was the answer I was hoping for.”

#paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x reader #alex meraz #alex meraz imagine #alex meraz x reader #twilight #twilight imagine #one shot #imagine #request

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sneakerdoodle · 3 years

Text

''Bard breathes in, taking in the calming alien view, and swings their legs in the air softly to the tune of the simple song they are so used to humming. It comes out a bit more strained, this time. There is a slight tightness in their chest, but they will not dwell on that. It can probably be chalked up to balancing many, many feet above the ground.''

Hey guys!!! I've been working on a post-canon Wandersong fic! Come watch Bard have Issues :- )

The first chapter is a shorter one, sort of like a teaser/exposition! Check it out right freaking here or on ff.net (with non-ideal formatting) bc i don't really wanna post on AO3. The second chapter is in the works >: 3

PDF || FanFiction.Net

(Not) Alone

Rated: K

Chapter 1

(General warnings: inability to breathe; heights)

Your footsteps used to echo through sacred halls no human had walked before, accompanied by the eager beating in your chest. Heartbeat – footstep – echo. A heavy, impending rhythm.

The only thing you heard was the glorious cheer of the crowd. The anticipation of victory made every breath ring like brass, like the blaring trumpets that would surely welcome you home. You felt golden, and colossal, like the Sun. Both of you had no choice but to shine.

The edge of your blade vibrated with a song of its own, metallic and crackling with static electricity. And you let it sing.

Time after time, you would sound the sharp final note of this intoxicating symphony.

Each time, for a split second of silence in your speeding heartbeat, you would be left alone, in a dark without a sound. A moment of ultimate finality in a place that was no longer a place.

Time after time, you would be brought back into the light and air, reaping your rewards, letting the world's ecstatic cheer crash against you like waves, flood you, fill you.

Not this time.

This time, the dark does not subside.

This time, you have nowhere to go back to.

What is worse, perhaps, is that you have nowhere to be.

The place that is no longer a place is all you have now. The cosmic opposite of spaciousness means that, in the suffocating absence of air, you are not granted the relief of feeling the walls close around you, the world smother you. There are no limits to the vacuum; there is no vacuum; there is no thing.

When your bare, hoarse voice escapes, lonely and flat, there is no ether to reverberate through, no echo to harmonize with you.

You are nowhere. You are a song that cannot sound. You are the only morsel of consciousness to vaguely grasp your own melody.

You are barely anything.

You are irreversibly alone.

***

A note catches in Bard's throat, and for a moment they are breathless, and shaken. Then they cough – like the fuzzy wheezing of a clogged flute – and feel the air fill their lungs once again.

Miriam's voice sounds from high above, impatient and strained with effort.

- Hello?? A little help???

Kiwi shakes off the uncomfortable reminder of last night and raises their head, up to the tops of two twin trees, where Miriam is trying desperately to keep her broom straight. It does seem quite hard to do with just one hand, while the other is occupied, clutching one end of a rope stretched between the two parted crowns.

Kiwi clears her throat one more time before singing out:

- A lit-tle bit high-er! 🎶

Miriam grumbles, and her broom lurches up just a bit. The rope now runs parallel to the ground, a level bridge from where its other end is glued to the opposite trunk.

- Now??

- Perfeeect! 🎶

From down below, Bard can't quite make out her movements, but they can imagine them vividly: Miriam pressing the end of the rope into the tree bark, letting the adhesive substance on its tip fix it in place; then her wrapping her fingers around it, face shifting into a concentrated frown. They can almost hear the quiet exasperated sigh, masking the nervousness Miriam always feels when casting less familiar spells and never wants to show.

As a thick woody vine stretches and knits itself along the length of the rope, connecting the flaming-red leafy tops, Bard claps their hands excitedly.

- Great job, Miriam!!

Miriam is already floating down to the ground. She is trying really hard to not look relieved.

- Yeah, - she mutters, glancing to the side, - thanks. Let's just... hope it holds. - She nods at the free space behind her, impatiently inviting Kiwi to join her on the broom, to rise back up to the connected crowns.

- Sure you're holding on well?

Bard adjusts their position in the hold of a curving branch and flashes Miriam a slightly tense smile.

- All good here! 🎶

Miriam frowns.

- Don't fall. Here you go.

Bard takes one end of yet another piece of rope from her hands and holds it up to the level of the previously conjured vine above their head. The sticky mushroom mash takes hold, but they do not take their hand away as to not test the glue with the rope's weight.

Miriam flies over to the other tree trunk, stretching the rope along the already formed scaffold. She glances at Bard nervously, and they give her an enthusiastic thumbs up – before immediately fretfully grabbing the branch below him, having almost lost his balance.

- Don't fall! - Miriam exclaims emphatically. Her tone is nothing short of disbelief: perhaps at the fact that she has to repeat herself so soon, perhaps at the fresh confirmation that the warning is actually warranted. - Eya... Just. Hold on, hold the rope, and don't.. stare while I do this.

Kiwi graciously looks away, letting their glance glide across the treetops shimmering in the light evening breeze. It's a new, fascinating perspective from this high up: the mass of moving, rustling red stretching all around them, making them forget about the ground below.

Bard takes the moment to appreciate the old trees, some of the tallest ones in the forest, raising him above their smaller siblings, into this weird valley of whispering leaves. Here, there is only the gentle waving of foliage and the sky that goes on and on, painted gentle orange by the setting sun.

Saphy was right. This is the perfect spot for a little perch, especially with the two crowns so conveniently close together. The thought brings Bard a gentle kind of joy. It is as if the forest itself was encouraging the initiative, eager to accommodate humans' curiosity.

Bard breathes in, taking in the calming alien view, and swings their legs in the air softly to the tune of the simple song they are so used to humming. It comes out a bit more strained, this time. There is a slight tightness in their chest, but they will not dwell on that. It can probably be chalked up to balancing many, many feet above the ground.

The rough bark of a newly formed vine softly bumps against Bards fingers, and they accommodate it, letting the woody liana reach the trunk and sink into it, as if having grown out of it many years ago. Miriam is doing amazing!

- You're doing amazing! - Kiwi promptly shares aloud, slightly breathless. Magical feats never lose their novelty, not to them.

Miriam skips past the usual embarrassment at being complimented and straight to a quizzical look.

- You sure you don't wanna' help?

- I'm helping! - Bard replies readily, feeling just slightly disregarded. Miriam fumbles.

- Ugh, no, I... - the words come out loud and annoyed in her rush to explain herself. She pauses - with obvious effort - and takes a few seconds. - ...Yeah, you are. Thanks. Just... aurgh, - she gives a jerky impatient shrug, - you know what I mean!!

Bard does know. Combining spellwork and singing is something the two have been experimenting with quite a lot. Bard could probably orchestrate the movement of the vine, direct it with their voice while Miriam is inducing its growth, instead of her sending it along the pre-marked trajectory of the hemp rope. But they shake their head, perhaps a bit too hurriedly.

- This is better! And you're doing great!!

Miriam examines their face, looking skeptical, vaguely confused.

- Fine, - she mutters in resignation. - If you say so. Toss me the next one.

Bard complies.

Their humming has stopped now. Instead, they turn their full attention to Miriam, promptly forgetting her earlier request. She throws a slightly irritated glance in their direction, but does not say anything, letting them observe as a new sprout rises out of a previously bare section of the bark.

Kiwi looks at the sturdy vines that will hold wooden planks, that will in turn hold a shiny new telescope. One of the many Elara has prepared for her world-wide project, to direct everyone's questioning eyes to the sky, to the novel, unfamiliar stars. Together, the people of Earth will explore the horizons of this young universe that has become their new home.

The thought of stars tickles Bard's throat, like the beginning of a song. The faraway lights, so tiny against the vast dark night sky, trading rays and stitching into constellations, must be creating a symphony of their own - one Bard is so eager to discover.

- This is gonna be great, isn't it? - they ask, their eyes clouded by visions of otherworldly landscapes.

- Yeah... - Miriam is silent for a moment, and Bard comes back to earth to look at their friend, questioning. - I don't... know much about stars... But if the astronomer lady says we can help--

- Of course!! 🎶 - Kiwi all but jumps up in a rush of passion. - We just need to look! We will find something really cool!!

Miriam smirks, but the smirk is unprecedentedly close to a smile, only adding to Bard's emotional high. They swing their legs in the air excitedly. It's new, and thrilling, seeing their friend like this: with the steadily growing readiness to find joy in the world around her.

- I'm glad we're doing this together, Miriam, - they say, smiling, as they shuffle to the side to secure yet another piece of rope against the trunk. - I like sharing things with you.

Miriam's hand holding the rope jerks just slightly as she looks away, momentarily flustered.

- Uh... yeah. Me too, - she blurts out, then draws a breath. - It... wouldn't be the same on my own. Or. You know. Without you.

The last vine is grown, and both of them sit down on the soon-to-be-platform, listening to the rustling of the leaves and watching the sun slowly sink towards the horizon.

Bard glances over at Miriam and examines the new look on her face, the one they've been spotting more and more. It is quiet surprise, like stepping out into the garden early in the morning and being met with a perfect gentle breeze. These days, the world seems to keep startling Miriam in the best of ways.

Miriam appears to have felt their gaze and meets it, eyebrow raised. They do not feel the need to explain, simply smile and dangle their feet happily. Miriam smirks and turns her face back to the gentle peachy sunset.

- ...It's gonna be nice, - she says contemplatively, - spending time here.

Kiwi takes a deep breath and feels the tightness in their chest ease and melt away.

- Yeah.

The walk back to Saphy and Miriam's home in the orange twilight is comfortable and special. Bard rants about the trees back in Langtree, and how different they are, and how she never climbed any before, in all her time living out in nature. Miriam grumpily recounts all the times she had to, to get potion ingredients back when she hadn't yet learned to properly fly a broom. When exiting the woods, she points out a specific tree which, she is convinced, has a personal vendetta against her, always tripping her up on its bulging roots. There is that unmistakable comfort of familiarity in her voice. For Miriam, exasperation often seems to be the easiest way to express her deep fondness for everything that is home.

They both take a second at the edge of the forest as the colorful house comes into view, just as the last rays of sunlight fall down the roof, then softly go out, one by one.

Saphy welcomes them with a boiling cauldron. (Her firm habit of using it indiscriminately, for food and for potion-making, is something Bard is still getting accustomed to.) Over dinner, she asks the two about their exploits with genuine, animated interest. Miriam shares the details, half-begrudgingly, throwing quick glances at Bard in moments of self-consciousness. They chime in readily and take the opportunity to praise Miriam's skills, seemingly making her more miserable in the process. It is a new and sweet routine for the three of them.

It is well into the night by the time Kiwi and Miriam get to setting up the guest cot, and Miriam keeps stoically fighting back her yawns. She isn't great at staying up past a certain hour.

- It isn't very bouncy, - she mutters, dissatisfied, as Bard plops down onto the thin mattress.

- It's great! - Bard reassures, running their hand over the clean sheets. - Goodnight, Miriam!

- G'night, - she mumbles sleepily, already walking towards the rope ladder hanging from the second level. With her hand on one of the rungs, she lingers for a moment and looks over her shoulder. - Are you still sure about tomorrow?..

Bard tenses up for a moment and does their best to shake it off.

- It... Yeah! It has been a while, so...

The rest of the sentence hangs in the air between them, irresolute. Miriam sighs quietly and makes her way back to the cot.

Their friend's arms wrap around them in a steady, comforting hug, and Kiwi suddenly feels very fragile. They return the embrace, hands on her back, and stay there for a few seconds, allowing themself to feel small.

Miriam pulls away and looks at them, eyelids heavy and droopy.

- Need... - a big, poetic yawn finally escapes her, despite all the efforts, -...company?

Bard shakes his head.

- You should get your rest!

- ...Yeah. Probably best, - Miriam grumbles and turns away with a final awkward pat on Bard's shoulder.

Halfway up the ladder, she sighs in annoyance and pauses, hanging from the wall with her head turned.

- Could you maybe try counting sheep this time? Silently??

Bard gives a couple of hurried flustered nods. Sharing space with other people again is proving to be difficult to combine with their musical routine.

- Sleep well, Miriam! And, - they grope for words for a bit, but don't find anything better than, - thank you.

Miriam nods slowly, turning away.

- Yeah. You too.

Bard dresses down and flops on top of the cot, hands on their chest. They listen as the house fills with the familiar duet of snores and quiet whistles and smile to themself, thinking about how rapidly Miriam nods off when she is tired enough.

Lying in bed and exploring the authentic years-old webs in the corners of the room, Kiwi goes over the events of the day in her head, and ponders what is waiting for them tomorrow.

A glum gnawing feeling rises in their chest, clawing at it from the inside. They push it away. It will be okay. And they won't be alone.

They lie there, trying not to worry. About tomorrow, about last night, about what this night will bring. They try not to think about the nightmares, and about the tightness in their chest, and the labored sounds of the once-effortless tune.

They close their eyes and dutifully imagine a sheep. A reeeally fluffy one. With big, shining eyes, and with a spring in its step, ready to conquer the highest of fences.

- One 🎶, - they sing to themself, as quietly and softly as they can.

The note does not come out right.

Next chapter

#wandersong #the bard wandersong #kiwi wandersong #heights mention tw #do i have a tag for #my writing #????#i must #me and Fleur are cooking up some other exquisite content as well ; ) its very exciting!!!#(not) alone

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hit-me-with-a-ladle · 3 years

Text

Ch.9 Creepypastas x Fem! reader

" Now, the first thing I'm going to be making very clear is. This isn't Harry Potter or whatever. You don't have a magic wand that you can wave and 'poof' all of your issues are gone. The only way you can cast spells is by studying a very old book that you humans know as a 'Grimoire'. Which, let me tell you, is super hard to learn so that's why we're starting out with potions. I'm not saying it is easy but you understand."

The girl began to vigorously take notes as she listened and watched him fill the cauldron up with water, putting it to a boil.

" So with that put aside, let's start talking about potion-making itself. Potions don't always have to be magical but to calm the soul in a way. Each potion's strength is dictated by what you put in it so, if you were to make a, I don't know, a power potion. Deciding what you put in it can define its overall effectiveness and strength. So for example, if you put peppermint instead of sage you'll get a weaker overall result. And also the time its effects will reduce significantly."

He spoke quickly and very precisely, the way he articulated and carried himself showed that he was in his element. He began to cut different plants with a sharp silver blade and put it in the cauldron, stirring it once in a while.

" You most likely know that it takes more than a few ingredients to make an effective potion, so that's why experimenting is crucial. Mixing and matching different ingredients, not just for the hell of it but with a purpose, will help you improve. But to do that you'll need the basic knowledge of what, most, of the things, you're using do. I don't have all of the herbs and plants that exist, I have a very small portion in fact. This little cottage was built by me for the sole reason to have a place to store things you'll need to, well basically, survive."

He was quick with his movements as he looked through the shelves packed with different jars and glass bottles filled with different coloured liquids. Reading the labels that were neatly put on each of them, searching for something. She thoroughly took notes as she listened to him talk.

" So you actually made this by yourself?" She asked surprised.

" Yeah mostly, I had some help from Jack. He knows his way around that kind of stuff. But everything else is made by me."

" Are you and him on good terms?"

" Yeah, you can say that we are. He's alright, very chill dude, calm, lever headed. Sadistic, yes, but he would never hurt someone he cares for too much. He loves messing with people. But Jesus doesn't get him mad. It's very hard to get under his skin, but the moment you do, it's over for you. I've seen him crush people's skulls with one hand. He got in a fight with Masky once, broke his arm like it was a twig. Got in huge trouble with The Operator for that, after that incident things between them haven't been the same."

" What did they fight for?"

" Not sure, I wasn't there when that happened, but it's most likely Masky's fault."

He shrugged as he carried on with work, the girl was deep in thought now, curious of why they fought. Hearing the snapping of fingers quickly averting her attention to Ben who now carried on with this lesson.

" Hey listen so you'll know what the hell you'll be doing for the next week."

" Sorry."

" Great. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, each of these ingredients has its own magical properties, some even have multiple uses. For example, this is one you'll most likely know." Holding up a purple plant in his right hand, twirling it in his fingers. " Is lavender, the main reason someone might use it is for warding off evil spirits and whatnot, but it can also be used for purification if used correctly. Understand what I mean?"

The girl began to shake her head as she took notes. He crushed the lavender in his hand and added it to the cauldron. Now that she thought about it. What exactly was he making all this time? Her eyes followed his lengthy form as he strolled through the cottage getting what he needed or put things back in its place. At times he would stand in front of the large bookshelves and search for certain books, comb through them, read what he needed to find and place it back in its place. He was truly in his element, his posture now perfect and he was dead concentrated on what he was doing. Seemed to have the placement of everything memorized to a T. It was nice in a way, he knew what he was doing and it showed.

" I don't have much to say really. Course, I didn't tell you everything, you have much more to learn but for now that is enough I think. So if you have anything you want to ask, go ahead." He said continuing with his business.

" Actually I do. So the Raskovnik, what does it exactly do? Masky was very adamant about me getting it so why exactly is it so important."

" Oh well, it's not that it's very important, it's just that I really need it. Used up the last of it I had a while back so I asked if he could get some. This stuffs super hard to find, ya gotta have a good ass eye to even notice it, I'm surprised you were able to even find it. And as for what it's used for according to lore I've heard, Raskovnik has the magical property to unlock or uncover anything that is locked or closed. Needed it for a potion I'm making and ran out. It's not the most powerful but it's still super effective."

" So it's able to unlock basically anything right."

" Yeah pretty much."

" So how do you use it?"

" You can use it in a bunch of ways, but the most effective way for me is in a liquidated state, I guess. you'll learn how to do that, don't worry."

A new sense of hope soared through the girl's body when she heard its usage. There was a way to leave. A small smile crossed her lips as she looked into her hands. Roughly scribbled on the pages were the many notes she took.

" Done."

Ben solemnly said, making her look at him in confusion. He approached one of the shelves and took out a wooden cup. Dipping it in the cauldron, filling it up to the top and handing it to the girl. She took it in her hands, careful not to spill it, now even more confused than before.

" Drink it." He said.

" What's this?" She asked.

"It's meant to help your wounds. They seem a little uncomfortable, so I thought it would be best for some of them to heal. Now it might not fully heal some larger wounds. But overall it helps with medium-sized cuts and bruises and reduces pain and blood loss."

Muttering a soft 'Thank you.' She drank the whole thing at once. It barely had a taste but there were chunks of different things that made the texture strange and unpleasant. Like drinking a thick crema. When she finished she felt tingling in her neck, legs and arms as the skin began to twitch. After about five minutes that gash on her neck was almost gully gone. The discomfort on her arms and legs was now non-existent. And a wave of confidence washed over Ben when he saw the result of his work.

" I feel really good. Thank you." She spoke up as she touched her neck. " Can we go now?"

" Yeah sure."

He answered, nearing the door and opening it up for them to leave. Walking outside about to leave he quickly stopped himself.

" Wait, I forgot something inside, you go ahead and I'll catch up to you."

With that, he ran into the cottage once more. Searching for something. The sounds of bottles colliding and papers being put aside were soon heard as he dug through his belongings. The girl only laughed and carried on. After a few minutes, Ben caught up to her and together they walked towards the cabin. Finally reaching it she walked in and was about to go and make herself something to eat. Ben grabbed her by the shoulder and stopped her. She looked at him confused and before she could ask he pulled out a small necklace from his pocket. Locking eyes with her.

" I made this a while back. It's a charm meant to protect the wearer, and as you're going to be guarding the whole forest you'll be the one needing it most."

He then began to put it on her neck. When he was done she got a better look at it. It was a chain necklace with a tiny glass bottle hanging inside. Inside was some sort of green herb.

" What's inside of it?"

"Rosemary." He flashed his signature creepy smile.

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jadoue1999 · 3 years

Text

Wanda and the life she deserved (She’ll make sure of it) Chapter 4

Summary: He was a Maximoff. It couldn’t be a coincidence, there had to be a reason why he was brought in! Perhaps their meeting could be beneficial to both?

Previous parts: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, epilogue

Chapter 4: Decisions

The wheels clicked in her head and relief washed over her. “Of course!” The speedster looked at her, confused about her sudden excitement, “don’t you understand? I’m Wanda Maximoff, we both lost a twin and could never grieve them, then there’s the lady who said I was getting desperate, how we joined globally known superhero groups and yet have never crossed path.” Wanda let her statement lingers in the air for a second, implying the importance of their situation. “Peter, I think you might be from a different universe.”

His eyes widened as he understood, his body shaking as he got up. “But how? Sure, it makes sense, but I’ve never heard of anything like this before. How do I even get back?”

Her world halted, he couldn’t be suggesting that, could he? They’d just found each other, the star-crossed twins. Both filled with untreated grief, and incomplete family life. Couldn’t he see how they could help each other? She tilted her head to the side.

“Back?”

“I can’t stay here, I have friends, and family! Sure, they might boss around and take me for granted, but they’re still family, “ Peter replied fidgeting as he became more frantic. “I- I have to go back, I need to tell my father- “

“Peter, please,” pleaded Wanda. “We’ve only just met; you can’t leave now!”

“I’m sorry,” said the speedster suddenly getting up and looking around, “we had a blast today, loved meeting your kids and your toaster of a husband, but I need to go. Do you have any idea how to get me back?”

The man was practically vibrating in place, his body desperately wanting to run, but he knew he had to stay to hear the answer. Wanda got up and took his hands with pleading eyes. “Please, Billy and Tommy love you, admire you even. You are appreciated here, needed. Isn’t that enough?”

He squeezed her hand gently, sighing. “Wanda, I don’t belong here, we shouldn’t have met. The universe-“

“Screw the universe! All it got me was my entire family dead and a terrorist law named after my country,” she paused to take a breath and ripped her hands away from his. She couldn’t take it; the grief was eating her away. She paced back and forth, irrational thoughts racing through her mind. “I had to watch my lover die twice, I’ve had my fill of it!”

Peter was stunned by her words, she could see his hyperactive mind trying to make sense of the situation, trying to find something to say. She barely noticed how the town square had emptied, as if an unseen director had yelled cut. They were alone, even the movie on the screen had been stopped. Her brain taunted her with quick solutions, rewinds, but she shook them off. She had to make him see reason. She walked up to him and put her hand on his cheek, even as determined as he was to leave, he leaned into the touch.

“Wanda- “

“Please stay,” interrupted the witch. She pushed down her magic, he had to understand her point, he couldn’t leave, he needed her as much as she needed him. He had to feel their connection-

“I can’t,” he pressed his hand atop of hers, “as much as want to, it would be selfish of me to leave my family. You have to let me go.”

At his words, a dam broke, she was going to lose him, like she lost so many people. She brought her hands to her face and slowly crumbled to the ground. Hot tears filled her eyes and sobs broke through her body. It was Ultron all over again, she’d lose her other half. Peter took pity of her and enveloped her in a warm hug. It felt so right, why did he had to leave? She was vaguely aware of him whispering apologies, but all she could think of was the countless other people who had done the same. Left her alone, with a hug and an empty promise that things would get better. Clint had even promised he’d visit, but he never did. He was probably too caught up with his own family returning at last to think of her. She had been alone once again, with bitter regret and a propriety deed belonging to a demolished house. The promise of a better world ironically literally torn to pieces. Then she had fixed her world, Vision was back, she had two lovely children and then her brother came along. For a moment, everything was perfect. It couldn’t be happening, he had to reconsider his choice.

Her eyes wandered to the necklace, the necklace that was keeping him from being Peter. She tried to look away, but it was calling to her. She shouldn’t do this, she had no right, he was his own person, he would never forgive her.

But you want him to stay

The voice in her mind was back, it was even offering her the perfect solution. She’d simply have to change the spell, so whoever originally casted it would have no access to it. Her brother would be back, everything would be alright again. In a moment of weakness, she made her choice.

“If I can’t have Peter,” said Wanda her accent showing herself. She called the necklace to her and quickly casted the new spell. “I’ll take Pietro.”

Fear creeped into the speedster eyes, he let go of her and tried speeding away, but she grabbed him with her magic. He begged her to reconsider, to let him go, but she barely heard him. Her magic singing the promises of what she was about to do. She took a step forward, quickly closing the necklace around her brother’s neck. He stopped struggling and his eyes glazed over. She took advantage of his temporary situation to change his clothes back into the costume he had worn earlier.

‘There’ she thought to herself, ‘it never happened.’

Peter Pietro blinked, confused at his surroundings. “Look sis, I get you were angry, but I was just messing with you! The rugrats were panicking, I did what I could. No need to knock me out again.”

Wanda smirked as she let her magic release him, he brushed it off and looked around. “Well, it’s pretty late isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” remarked Wanda, “do you mind going the quick way?”

Pietro nodded, eager to run and grabbed her arm and the back of her neck. In the blink of an eye, they were back home. He was out of his costume in a flash and sitting on the couch.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Pietro looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Going to sleep, obviously.”

She raised an eyebrow, “you have a room now.” She grinned as his face light up with happiness.

“Thanks, sis. You’re the best!” He praised her, zipping up the stairs.

She watched him leave with a smile. Everything was perfect. Tomorrow, they’d go get Vision, and they could live together, happy.

She deserved it.

...

Notes: I’ve read many fanfics where Peter and Wanda bonds after the Hex was brought down. Then I wondered, how would their talk go if she wasn’t ready to let him go? I hope her choice made sense, I’ve done my best to portray her overwhelming fear of being alone once again.

Thanks for reading, see you next time!

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