#a captured cauldron | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ibbythebee · 7 months

Text

Anything

pairing: Fred Weasley x Prefect!Reader

summary: Fred would do anything to see you, 'Hogwart's strictest Prefect', loosen up.

genre: fluff 'n stuff, and only slight angst, also borderline slowburn

warnings: swearing, bullying moments, implied that reader is in Slytherin, lots of teasing, flirting, kissing, Fred is completely and utterly whipped for reader, "your highness" nickname

a/n: not me in the middle of writing a neville fic and then having a shower thought of a fred x reader and writing this instead.

words: 6.9k

masterlist

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You can hear them. And you know it's them, because of the sniggering and that laugh.

By now, when you patrolled outside of class hours you'd find yourself actively seeking out these boys. Today happens to be good day to continue your spotless Prefect record.

With a hand sliding to your hip, you smoothly round the corner of the door to your Potions classroom and as you suspected, Fred and George Weasley are there, huddled over a particular cauldron. Something's clearly already been brewed and Fred is holding a cork screwed flask with the mysterious liquid.

It takes a minute until Fred happens to glance toward the door and sees you there, nose in the air and hands now clasped in front of you. He's trying not to laugh when he sees you, and elbows his brother.

The said Weasley is about to say something, but as he meets your gaze his lips press together in a slightly curved line.

Successful in catching their attention, one eyebrow and then one corner of your lips gently raise. "We've really got to stop bumping into each other like this."

"I think you wanted to bump into us," Fred says with a prominent smile. He looks innocent, just like always.

You neither confirm nor deny his remark and instead stride closer to them. You take your time, head turning in each direction, eyes scanning for any other suspicious looking activity. It feels good, because you can feel their stares and how they wait with bated breaths for your next move.

With a last step you settle on the opposite side of their table. You look at Fred, head tilted softly, studying his expression.

His smile only grows when you reach his eyes and it's finally time to address the elephant in the room.

In a newly straightened posture you say in a slow and sarcastic tone, "did you know... that I can take away points from your House? From each of you, in fact?"

"Oh, come on. Our favourite Prefect. Can't you pretend you never saw us, like last time?" George answers.

"Sorry what was that? You'd like 30 points taken away?"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Fred waves with a chuckle, "let's not get hasty. What about... a-a compromise?"

George nods desperately.

Your eyebrow raises again, and you lean back, crossing your arms. "A compromise, instead of taking away your precious points?"

"Yes, we'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything." Fred glides a tongue over his bottom lip, speaking to you through his eyes.

For once he looks completely serious and it makes you smile in delight. An expression seldom found in your features. It's completely magical and Fred finds no regret to bargaining with you.

"There is something you can do for me," your eyes glaze over Fred's face and then you turn to George, leaning forward over the table on your elbows. "The next Quidditch Game."

"Yeah? Slytherin v Gryffindor. Need us to bug someone?" George grins.

You shake your head and smile again. You're frighteningly beautiful with that curve on your face as you continue. "I need you to make sure that Slytherin wins."

"What?"

Fred captures your attention, so you lean in closer to his side of the desk. "It shouldn't be too hard for you both, right?"

He squints, unable to hold back a smile of his own. In the previous times when you had caught the twins in the middle of scheming, you'd never been so coy with them. Ruffling your feathers a bit was always the boys' goal when getting caught by you, however now that you seem to be playing along, Fred can't get enough. "That's hardly something to wish for, your highness. You can have anything from us, really anything. Don't hold back."

You shrug, "well, that's what I choose."

"But if you think about it you cou—"

"I can take the points off now, if you like? It's really no problem."

"Fine. W-We'll do it." George huffs, and his brother follows with a playful bow.

"Your wish is our command."

"Please just don't take the points off. We'll be kicked out of Gryffindor if you snitch again."

"Me? Snitch?" Your voice drips in sarcastic innocence, and you push yourself off of the desk. Your feet turn to walk back outside first, but your eyes remain on Fred until it's physically impossible to stay focused on him. As you saunter to the door, you feel their gazes on you again and it's oh so satisfying to know that you get the last say. "You need to get better at not getting caught. Because, if I didn't know any better, it looks more like you want me to bump into you."

You turn around to face them again, and stare at the flask in between Fred's long fingers. By some miracle you'd never found yourself to be the butt of their schemes, unlike the other prefects. Even as a chaser of the twins' opposition in Quidditch, you've been the only lucky soul on your team to come out the other end. The question was why? Why spare you?

"Who in Salazar's name threw that?" Your captain shrieks, massaging the back of his head, small flakes of snow dropping to the skin of his neck.

How bothersome, you think, looking around at the rest of your teammates who're busy cooling down after Quidditch training.

"What?! A snowball just happens to gain sentience and hit me, huh? An owl maybe? Just come forward, admit you did it and I'll go easy on you—"

The spray of snow flies off of the captain's head again and you dodge the icy substance in time, some of it landing on your beater and chaser teammate. Everyone exclaims except you, you're too busy scanning over the field.

Suddenly, the burly boy of a captain huffs toward you, and you take a shove to the shoulder.

Stumbling back by a metre, you frown. Increasingly annoyed by your captain's baseless judgements. "What the hell is wrong with you? How many times do I have to tell you I'm a prefect?"

"I know a guilty person when I see one."

You're about to give him a piece of your mind until the idiot is hit again and you stifle a laugh at the noise he makes.

"Clever," he says through gritted teeth. Despite clearly looking at you just seconds before the snowball made contact with his thick skull, his pride is still hell-bent on accusing you. "I knew you were good at school, but I didn't think you'd stoop so low to use non-verball spells for something so stupid."

"Well, I knew you were delusional before, but now it's perfectly clear that you just don't have a brain."

As though your words were a signal, a tsunami of white ice balls appear in the sky and you don't hold back your smile as it pauses over your team. They each look up, faces with panicked expressions, and before they can even begin to escape, the snow crashes down over your peers. Figuring, it's the perfect moment to leave, you zoom out of the field on your broom and land to your feet once you can't see those angry faces anymore.

And that's when you hear him. That laugh, and he's looking at you and combing a hand through his ginger hair, all whilst adorning a satisfied ear-to-ear grin.

"Thanks." Is all you can say at first, then you realise his partner-in-crime George isn't right by his side. "Where's your brother?"

"On the other end of the field."

You nod. When you don't say anything more and turn to leave, you feel long fingers wrap around your wrist. He's warm against your icy skin, and your eyes shoot up, only to be greeted by a soft smirk.

"You're not going to snitch on us are you, your highness?"

"Me? Snitch?" You stop yourself from feeling so giddy about the previous event and instead focus on the fact that would you be doing your prefectoral duties correctly, you would have absolutely told a Professor about the twins. But the adrenaline rush feels too great and so you finally shake your head at the tall ginger. "You were just... watching us practice, right? I don't see anything suspicious about that."

His smirk twists into a genuine smile, and he allows your wrist to slide out of his grasp. A twinkle of mischievousness reaches your eyes, and then you're off, jogging into the distance. A few metres in, you take a chance to glance back to where you left Fred. And you don't know whether it was from training or the adrenaline, but you feel your neck and cheeks flare with heat at the sight of him lean against the frame of the entrance, steadily watching you run.

Clearing your throat, you push your recollection of the past away and take out your wand.

“You know you’re not allowed to use spells outside of class, your highness,” says Fred, his voice playful.

“That’s okay,” you shrug, “because I know you won’t tell on me.”

“Are you quite sure about that?” George chimes.

You nod immediately, the easiest question to answer. “I’m your favourite prefect, am I not?”

Fred’s expression is unreadable to you at first as he shakes his head slowly. He looks shocked, but at the same time pleased and a hint of something else that you can’t quite grasp.

Figuring you’ve stared at him long enough you send the twins’ a wink and the door shuts with a swipe of your wand.

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Your robe is floating behind you, a spitting image of Professor Snape, as you walk with purpose to your class, books cradled in your arms and head held high. You round a corner of the halls smoothly and find yourself at your Potions classroom. It's been a week since finding the Weasleys in there, and you still haven't found out what concoction they had created.

In any case, your class has already begun, and Snape's voice is barely audible with the door in front of you. You let your fingers clench around your books for a moment, taking in a breath. Then you push your way in, and each one of your classmates turn their attention to you.

"How lovely of you to join us, Miss L/N."

Having already predicted the Professor's sarcasm-filled reaction to your tardiness, you hand out a small slip of paper. "A note from Professor McGonagall."

He barely skims over the words and indicates for you to find a seat. Fingers clenching around your books again, you let yourself look over your peers. There's a seat next to Ginger Jorkins from Hufflepuff, but after noticing your stare she's quick to put her belongings where you could have sat. You hold off from sighing, because to your relief there is one more free seat, all the way at the back of the room. Right beside the vacant spot is a familiar head of red hair, and the pain from your tight grip subsides upon seeing him. That sigh you've been holding lets free once you sit down and the class continues.

"Welcome to the back of the class," Fred whispers with his signature grin. "You're with the cool kids now."

"Speaking of..." You glance behind him and frown. "Where's your brother?"

He makes a face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." And then it hits you. The Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch Game. The compromise. The "make-sure-that-Slytherin-wins" game. The "George-has-been-completely-annihilated-by-a-bludger" and "won't-be-walking-around-anytime-soon" game.

"Oh... right."

Fred simply nods, finding the way you froze for a moment to be equally funny and endearing. The rest of your face doesn't show it, but he notices the panic in your pretty eyes and gives your arm a little nudge. "Hey. The git's okay. Says it was worth the pain because the girl he fancies paid him a visit."

You bite your lip and let yourself focus on Snape, who's mouth is moving, but you can't hear anything coming out. "It's still technically my fault. He looked awful."

Fred leans forward, his head turning to rest against his crossed arms. He studies your features as you attempt to listen into the class. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper again. "Come to Hogsmeade with me."

You give him a side glance. No one's ever invited you to come before and for all you know he could be making fun of you. It'd been hard in the beginning, though you eventually found comfort being in your own presence; drinking butterbeer while other people joked and laughed and shared stories and the gossip of the week. And talked about how they received a pointless detention after being told off from that know-it-all bitch.

"I-I don't..." You stumble upon your words, the crease between your brows growing deeper as you try to recollect your thoughts.

"Yeah, you're coming," he declares. And when you go to protest, he sits back up, sending you a wink.

"AND so..." Snape glares in your direction, "by the end of this class, I will be testing the quality of your potions by using a simple leaf. If it melts you've brewed successfully, and if not... you'll be in here on the weekend till you get it right."

To your surprise, Fred doesn't make a fuss, instead he beams at you with a clap of his hands. "Let's get started then, shall we Professor?"

The said man only grunts in response, so you all begin.

Forty minutes passes by in an instant, and no matter how well you follow the recipe, the liquid in your cauldron doesn't look like a liquid anymore and it smells differently to Fred's.

Wait. Fred's?

You frown down into his cauldron. His potion's immaculate.

You pull at the sleeve of his robe till his head comes down and his long hair tickles the tip of your nose. "How are you doing this?"

"I'm smart when I want to be," he chuckles.

"That's not an answer. I demand you give me an answer, or... I will take off points from Gryffindor."

He feigns an expression of shock which immediately gives way to a smirk, face just a few inches away from yours. "And what if I do tell you? You promise not to snitch?"

"Me? Snitch?"

That mischievousness is back into your dolomitic eyes, and Fred swears that the potion isn't required to melt the leaf.

"How about a compromise?" you whisper.

He shoots a glance toward the Professor and then hums when he feels it's all clear to keep talking. "I'm listening."

"I come with you to Hogsmeade, and I promise to do whatever you want to do. Deal?"

He doesn't need a moment, or even a second to reply. He's already nodding, slipping a hand into yours. "Deal."

You share a knowing look and shake your intwined hands. Compromise confirmed. "Now—"

Before you get to finish, he pulls out a very familiar cork-screwed flask, and in perfect fashion you keep from gasping or reacting at all, but Fred can see it in your eyes. He scans over the classroom, Snape's busy writing something on the board, and so he's clear to lower his head to you.

Your fingers graze as he passes you the concoction he had made with his brother. Electricity runs through the veins of your fingers till it hits your heart, skipping a beat.

"Someone might've tipped us off about this assignment," Fred murmurs. "So, naturally, we just wanted to be prepared. There was no way we were going to miss out on a Hogsmeade visit."

Not with George in the Hospital Wing, you think to yourself with guilt, pulling your robe sleeve down to hide the flask should your Professor stop by.

"Well... my beloved brother sadly will. I'll never forget his bravery." Fred makes a show out of a simple sigh and you feel like slapping his arm. He places his hand over his chest and sighs again, only it's a little louder this time and longer. "A girl we know threatened us to rig the Quidditch game so that Slytherin would win, if we didn't do as she asked she would've gotten us into trouble—"

"Fred." Images of the poor Weasley twin with a whole half of his body covered in the sickening colour of a bruise flood your brain.

"—and being the good man that he is, Georgie sacrificed himself, in order to satisfy the needs of this girl."

"Oi! I already feel horrible, okay?" You finally give his arm that well-earned smack, and when all he does is laugh, you huff with a pout.

He recollects himself, and makes sure Snape's still preoccupied. He bends down to your level again, and his breath fans over the strands of hair by your ear. "I would do the same for this girl."

There's that heat in your neck again and yet another electric feeling runs up your spine at his worlds. You don't meet his gaze and instead stare forward. To save yourself from embarrassment, you lift your chin and with one swift movement, the liquid from the flask falls into your cauldron.

Fred watches in delight as you stir until your previously horrible creation morphs and dissolves into that flawless fluid that you had just seen in the Weasley's cauldron. From such a result, you're unable to stop yourself as your lips curl into a smile, parting slowly to reveal your teeth.

You are the embodiment of this potion. Any person or creature of the magical world would completely disarm at the sight of your expression. And Fred's lucky enough to be your first victim.

"You seem very pleased, Miss L/N."

The black figure of Snape shadows yours and Fred's vision as he glides in front of your desk. He peers into your cauldron, nothing shows on his face and then he's examining Fred's, the same reaction of nothing.

The man then clicks his tongue and floats back to the front of the classroom, picking two leaves off of the plant on his desk. He returns swiftly, gesturing the rest of the class to join him by your table.

"Look closely." Snape says as his hand hovers over your creation, and then his fingers let go of the green object.

Hushed breaths watch as it hits the surface of the liquid with a ripple. There's no reaction at first and it fills you with dread. You even see Fred stiffen in the corner of your sight.

Then the leaf twitches with a change in colour, and soon it's no where to be seen, dissolved. Successful.

Someone mutters a 'wow', others share glances of contempt or roll their eyes. You on the other hand feel relieved and lean onto your hip, arm brushing against the tall boy beside you. He relaxes at your gentle touch.

"It seems you will have the fortune of freedom this weekend." Professor Snape mutters, and then with no time to waste, moves on to Fred. You barely have a chance to thank the man. His hand hovers, fingers open and a new leaf falls.

In a blink, the leaf has melted and you feel the Weasley straighten up in pride.

Snape however, isn't convinced and folds his arms. "How convenient that you should produce a successful potion - out of many failures - when seated beside Miss L/N."

Innocent until proven guilty, you think and look up at Fred, who's only smiling like a fool, his focused trained on Snape's. Your classmates murmur, and it isn't hard to place who they're talking about with their not-so subtle glares pointed in your direction.

"So I did a good job?" The boy's happy expression grows with innocence.

"Somehow. Five points... to each of you." The raven-haired man admits, his gaze lingers on the Weasley before he turns away, addressing you both and the rest of the class. "L/N and Weasley, seeing as you have completed the task, you may be dismissed. However, by next class I expect a 2,000 word written report of your method and findings. That'll be all. The rest of you... you have fifteen minutes."

Groans and curses hidden under breaths echo through the room, you and Fred, however, turn to each other with eyebrows raised and stupid grins plastered over your faces.

Adrenaline kicks in, and you both scramble to clear up the desk and snatch up your belongings. You sprint out the door not after sending the Professor a 'thank you', and then you're out the door and sprinting into the courtyard, crisp winter air nipping at your extremities.

You pause by the fountain, leaning against the tall structure and Fred follows suit, situating himself in front of you. "I can't believe I did that," you say in a breathless tone still grinning, books hugging into your chest.

He chuckles in between his own pants of breath. "Feels good doesn't it, your highness?"

"I hate to admit but... yes."

You watch as his gaze on you softens, as well as his grin subduing into contentment. "You make a good partner-in-crime. I think I might just replace George."

"Then he will surely kill me once he's recovered! That is... if he doesn't already."

Fred winks, "I'll make sure that won't happen. A princess such as yourself deserves a knight-in-shining armour."

"Oh yes." You give a curtsy and wave of your hand, your voice forming a posh accent. Well, no more posh than you already sound. "Then will you do the honour of escorting me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

With a fist to his chest, Fred bows. "For you, my dear, anything."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

It's irregular of you to be so fashionably late. Last night you'd found yourself restless, thoughts of sleep hidden behind scenes of you and Fred eating candy together, laughing, using magic outside of class to throw snowballs at your Quidditch Captain. Despite the chill of a winter night, being covered by your duvet and blankets was suffocatingly warm, especially when you kept seeing Fred pull you behind a tree, gloved hands drawing you into him by your hips, noses barely touching and lips parted with warm butterbeered breaths.

Your chocolate-brown screech owl whinnies by the foot of your bed and you flinch, adjusting your beanie for the hundredth time. "What do you think, Prim? Do I look tired? I look tired, don't I?"

The owl blinks and gives another whinny, a sound similar to that of a miniature pony. You check the clock on the wall of your dormitory and bite your lip, jostling through your belongings and retrieving a small purse of galleons to shove into your coat pocket.

One more look in the mirror, just one more. Your hair looks surprising lovely, strands of it squished against your thick scarf, and fortunately covering areas of your blemished face that couldn't be covered enough by your concealer. "It'll have to do!"

Prim purrs when you stroke her head and then you're off. You almost trip at the bottom of the stairs and as a result you pause, taking in a breath, calming the pounding in your chest. This Hogsmeade visit is just like any other. Just like any other. You’re just… not alone this time. That’s enough to get you smiling, as you saunter through the halls and finally out the gates, where you see a few groups of students still hanging around Hogwarts.

At the top of the steps you crane your neck in an attempts to find Fred amongst the small groups.

“I was beginning to think you stood me up.”

You spin on your heels at the sound of his voice, and are greeted with a growing grin. Teeth sparkling and everything. It takes a toll on you not to tackle him in a hug right then and there. The thick hoody he’s adorning, as well as the adorable beanie all look extra cuddly. Those gloved hands that you’ve been thinking about slide out of the pockets of his jeans and reach for your scarf, gently tightening the fabric around your face and neck.

On the outside you seem unbothered by his action, but he already sees what you’re really feeling through those dolomitic eyes of yours. “A deal’s a deal,” you finally say. “But it was rude of me to keep you waiting so long, so I’ll buy you a butterbeer.”

He shakes his head, fiddling with the hem of the scarf. “You turning up is enough for me.”

You shake your head back, dipping your chin into the material to hide your smile. “I’m buying you one. Argument over.”

“Alright then.” He chuckles and gives your scarf a gentle tug. “No more time to waste, your highness, let’s go.”

“Lead the way, Sir Weasley.”

You’re perfectly giddy as you trudge your way to the little village. Fred tells you about his plans for Christmas and you tell him yours, not very big and not very exciting, but he adores listening to you speak. He tells you about George and his recovery, and teases you when he sees guilt written over your face. Then despite your many differences, you both bond over your love for Quidditch, especially the Irish team. Occasionally, your shoulders and arms graze, and other times your fingers, as you stomp through the snow covered grounds. With every touch your chest grows warm, and your belly flips. You almost forget that you should be looking out for any bad behaviour. You almost forget that you still have a duty to uphold to the school.

Hogsmeade is bustling with life when you finally arrive. More so now that you could share it with someone.

“Come on, let’s warm up first.” Fred tugs your scarf again and successfully gains your full attention. He pulls you into the Three Broomsticks, greeted immediately by a wave of warmth. He’s still pulling on your scarf so you swiftly ask for two hot butterbeers and allow him to lead you to a table at the far end of the room.

“Am I your pet? Leading me around like that.” You sit down opposite him, motioning to his hand still holding onto the end of the long material.

He hums for a moment, and doesn't look to have any intention of letting go. “More like restraining you from going into ‘prefect’ mode.”

"Hey! Some people need disciplining," you pout.

"You sound like a Professor..." he narrows his eyes at you, lacking the skills to stop smiling so big. "You're not Professor Snape using Polyjuice potion, are you? Trying to figure out my secrets for passing your class, huh?"

Slowly, meticulously you straighten your back and fold your hands over the table, and void any emotion on your face. Your voice is low and slow and articulating every syllable as you speak. "What a ri-di-cu-lous suggestion. However... while we are on the topic, you didn't... copy off me, did you?"

Fred is so bad at suppressing his smirk. "Bloody Norah, you found me out! You're so smart, Profess— I mean... your highness."

The clink of glass hitting your table interrupts yours and Fred's thoughts. Madam Rosmerta's standing over you and when you meet her gaze she winks. "Good to see you with company this time around, Y/N."

Your face squishes into the fabric that Fred's still holding onto as you feel heat rise in your cheeks. Desperate to eliminate the fact that she basically just called you a loner in front of him, you fish into your pocket and pull out some coins, placing them onto the woman's open palm. "Thank you, Madam Rosmerta."

"Pleasure, dears. Enjoy.” Another wink is sent your way and she’s off to tend the rest of her pub.

As you bring the hot beverage to your mouth, you peek through your eyelashes. Fred has removed one glove and is now using that bare hand hold onto his drink, allowing the warmth to transfer into his already warm skin.

"Thank you," he says.

Your brows press together, "what for?"

"For paying."

"Well... thank you too."

He raises an eyebrow as he takes a good sip of the butterbeer, waiting for you to elaborate.

"For inviting me," you say shyly, fingers sliding across the surface of the mug.

"Awh, that's nothing," he chuckles, gently swaying your scarf.

"It's not 'nothing'. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night because I was so excited to come with you."

The ginger-haired boy presses his lips together tightly and then leans his face closer to you. "Wait, really?!"

How many times has it been now that you've felt your face heat up around Fred? You could play so coy and confident before, but now you felt like any other girl-with-a-crush in your year. "As a matter of fact, yes." You raise your chin and attempt to sit up straighter. "I know it may seem that I only agreed to come because of a compromise, but... I really did — do — appreciate you considering me."

"I don't think we'll need to stop by Honeydukes, your highness. You're so sweet, that my teeth already ache."

"You're so...!" You smack his arm.

But he's grinning like a fool, pulling at your scarf. "I'm so what?"

"I'm gonna take points off Gryffindor, just because you asked."

He guffaws, "what is this abuse of power?"

You take a swig of butterbeer and shrug, head high and smirk on display. "I like to call them perks."

"See?" You feel on your neck as he gives a tug-tug. "This is why you need to be kept on a lead."

Before you can retort, you notice he's pointing at his upper-lip and quietly chuckling. It sets off your heart.

"Brilliant moustache you got there," he says.

"Oh... thank you." How embarrassing. You really thought he was suggesting something else for a moment there. You glance around the room to make sure no one's watching before you slide a tongue over the sweet foam above your lip. "Is it gone?"

"Just..." at first there's a second of hesitation, but then he pulls you in over the table and meets you half-way, un-gloved hand coming up to cup your face. Why is he always so warm? Why is it that one of the most notorious rule-breakers of the school is taking your fancy? And so easily at that.

It feels like an hour passes when his thumb smooths over the left corner of your mouth and you hold in a breath, fingers clenched around your mug. You simply cannot help the urge to look at his own lips; pretty, pink and gently parted, calm breaths passing through.

His movements pause all of a sudden, so you glance at his eyes, but he's already looking at you. Completely under your spell, completely forgetting how to move, and completely forgetting that you're in public. You seem to have forgotten the same, still not pulling away from his touch. He catches your eyes dip to his lips again and he swallows thickly.

Then he's moving away and sitting back down, clearing his throat. "There, now you're good."

"Thanks," you wipe a finger over for extra measure and then look out the window, clearing your throat and straightening your back.

"You know how you mentioned that part of the deal was that we'd do anything I want to do?" He inquires, finishing his drink with a last swig.

"Yeah. A deal is a deal," you answer, finally turning back to him, surprised to see a confident smile carved into his features.

"Perfect. There's something I want to show you, but first I have a really good idea to help you unwind and forget about your prefect-ness."

"That doesn't sound good," you tease, chugging the last bit of your own butterbeer.

He's smirking now, "you won't be saying that when you see what we'll be doing."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You're both crouched behind a boulder that oversees the Shrieking Shack in the distance. The perfect spot to spy on anyone who visits the lookout point. The perfect spot to snog outside of school walls. And it also happens to be the perfect spot to stock up on snowballs and wait for one particular person to fall into your trap.

"I hate to admit, but you were right, Sir Weasley. Again," you mutter, rubbing your gloved hands together.

"The more you hang out with me, the more you'll find out just how right I always am." He peeks over the boulder for a moment and then his hand shoots up in alarm, speaking in barely a whisper, "he's here."

He is. You can hear your Quidditch captain now and a few of his buddies, chatting and laughing. Someone puts on a voice, and it makes the group howl, but makes your stomach churn. The closer they get to the lookout, the clearer their words sound and the more you're looking forward to breaking the rules.

"—thinks she's all that, just 'cause she's a prefect. Like, bitch, I'm older than you!"

Their laughter is equal to that of nails on a chalkboard. Pelting them with some snowballs might not be fulfilling enough.

"Nah, it's 'cause she's got Snape behind her, hah. Thinks she can say and do whatever she wants."

Fred is hearing all of this. You feel like screaming, and perhaps hexing the hell out of all of them. They need a proper disciplining.

"Yeah, that's probably what's happening!" The group laugh again, and the next thing they say is the last straw. "She only got prefect because she's fucking him."

The bottom of your vision is blurry, but you tell Fred you're ready and he only nods. You both raise your wands, and he counts to three.

One snowball hits the back of the captain's head and to your satisfaction he lands on his face. You and Fred are enjoying the scene a little too much that it isn't until one of the idiots shout your name, do you realise you've blown your cover.

"Shoot!"

"Quick! We need to unleash all we've got!" Fred takes your free hand and guides you up to stand beside him. "One, two, THREE!"

Adrenaline shoots through your veins, as together you swish your wands and the rest of your snow pile is sent into the air. One more flick of the wands, and the balls fly with the speed of a snitch. Straight toward their faces. Exclamations, grunts, yells echo through the woods and open winter air. They swipe at their faces and eyes, blinded by your attack. The captain's still trying to recover from the first hit, from head to toe the entire front half of him is covered in white.

You let out a laugh, and suddenly Fred takes your hand again and you're sprinting away from the crime scene.

"HEY!" The Quidditch captain shouts after you, pure rage in his tone.

But you couldn't care less, because that grin on the Weasley's face is too contagious as you run by him, gloved hand in gloved hand.

He peeks over his shoulder to meet your gaze, only resulting in a skip of his heart and a flip of his stomach. Losing that Quidditch match was absolutely worth it, and Fred had to remind himself to thank George later for taking the blow.

You share breathless laughter as the shouts increase in amount, but decrease in volume. You're both much too fast for them and manage to get back to the village where you could hide within the crowds.

Your feet slow to a walk, and you both check if any of the idiots followed. Fred spots two pass by a tree and squeezes your hand to gain your attention.

"In here," he jerks his head, and pulls you into a small alley between two buildings.

Finally having a moment to catch your breath, you realise that it isn't really an alley, and more like a small gap. The space is so narrow in fact that your body is essentially pressed up against his. Back against wall. Heaving chest against heaving chest. Feet and legs side-by-side each other as though woven.

You don't care to look to your left where those jerks could be looking for you. You simply can't. You can't because all you can see are Fred's parted lips again, and he's looking down at yours. After which, your gazes meet and you don't think you've ever felt so hot in the middle of winter before.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes. No grin, no smirk, no teasing, just facts.

"And you're..." Your eyes dip again.

His hand slides out of yours, and then you feel weight by your hips and he's squeezing against the material of your pants and sweater.

You crane your neck, and he dips his head, as those gloved hands of his pull you into him.

Your own hunger has your fingers smooth over his chest and grip the collar of his hoody, desperately tugging for him to come closer and closer, tension in the air building with each breath.

"And I'm... what?" He purrs.

Something stirs in the bottom of your abdomen as the scent of butterbeer fills your senses, just millimetres away now. And then he captures your lips. And it's like heaven, because his hands can't help but slide up under your sweater and hold you by the skin of your waist.

At first the kiss is gentle, hesitant, but then you open your mouth a little wider and Fred takes this as a clear invitation. He smooths a tongue over yours, the taste of the sweet foamy drink still lingering on your lips.

His bold action elicits a hum from you, and his grip only tightens, craving more and more of you and your pretty sounds. You go until you can't breathe, mouths parting reluctantly but eyes still closed.

Fred presses his forehead against yours, your noses brushing in a feather-like touch. His thumbs caress your sides as he whispers, "you never answered my question."

"You wanna know what you are, right?” You murmur, hands sliding down over his collarbone and resting on his chest.

“Yeah. You’ve said it twice now and never finished your sentence.”

“Okay,” you lean in, lips feathering over his. “You’re…”

Good Godric you’re addicting. He pushes his head forward to meet you, but you pull back with the most attractive breathy laugh he's ever heard. Your lips stay brushing against his, but you won't give him any more than that and he loves it.

"You're..." you say again on his mouth, and he hangs on every single one of your words. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me at Hogwarts."

He watches your eyes for a moment, and leans into you once more, hands climbing up to lay flat against your back, your sweater pooling by his wrists. And you share the softest kiss ever, full of adoration, full of care, full of absolute affection.

"You saying that, you being here right now... feels like I've just won the Quidditch cup," he says when you part.

"I really mean it, Fred." You wrap your arms around his middle and squeeze him there, cheek squishing into his chest. "You've heard how people talk about me, but you don't seem to care about any of that stuff."

He returns your gesture, his own cheek landing on the top of your head. "You're right. I don't care about it, because I've seen how much you care for the school and care for keeping things in order. A little too much, but to each their own."

"Oi."

"I have to tease, I have to. Still, joking aside, if anyone says that kind of shit about you and you hear about it, find me and tell me. Me and Georgie have your back."

"Just don't get caught," you smirk.

"You won't take points away if you catch us, will you?"

You pull away from the cuddle and send him that beautifully, intimidating smile of yours. "Not if you promise to keep losing your Quidditch games."

"Low blow, your highness!" He laughs and then you're running away, giggling like a fool.

You manage to slip through the crowds and head toward the woods by the Shrieking Shack lookout, your giggles only getting louder and more frequent when you see Fred bounding closer and closer to you. Your cadence slows when the ground starts to feel icy under your boots, and sooner than you think, you feel arms wrap around your stomach and you squeal.

Fred's laugh vibrates against your back, and after a few pants of breath he speaks into your ear. "There's still something I wanted to show you."

"Oh?" You spin around in his hold. "That's right. What is it then?"

"Surprise. Follow me." He's hasty in his movements, as he takes your hand, running further into the woods. Then he rounds the corner of a large tree trunk, his fingers slip out of yours as he twists around to face you and then he's pulling you by your hips, grin on display.

Your heart flips when your back meets with the rough surface of the tree, bodies pressing into one another and then his mouth is hovering over yours. There's hunger in his eyes, yet he's waiting for your next move.

"Wow. 'I have something to show you'. That was so corny," you tease in a whisper.

He chuckles, feeling your lips just barely touch his, "but you loved it."

"I did. You're right again, Sir Weasley."

"Always am, your highness."

He squeezes your hips. You lift your chin and you kiss for a third time that day.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader smut #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x y/n

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greygaunt · 2 months

Text

How the Slytherin boys would react to you pulling them in by their belt or tie

as requested!

Theodore Nott

Theodore had been given special permission from Professor Snape to tutor you using the potions classroom. He was stood in front of you, desperately trying to get you to understand the Wiggenweld potion instructions, as the last three times you had attempted it, your cauldron had boiled over. You sat at the desk, fidgeting with your quill, your attention drifting to the window where the afternoon sunlight filtered through the lake and through the glass. Theodore's words seemed to blur together as you found yourself lost in your own thoughts, oblivious to his attempts to guide you through the recipe. Theodore noticed your lack of focus, a faint furrow forming between his brows as he paused mid-sentence, studying you with a mix of concern and amusement. "Are you with me, cara mia?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm, trying to bring you back to the present. You blinked, realising you had been daydreaming, and quickly tried to mask your distraction with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Theodore," you apologised. Theodore chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "It's alright," he reassured you, his tone warm and understanding. "But if you want to nail this potion, you'll need to pay closer attention." As he turned back to the cauldron to continue the recipe, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for not giving him your full attention. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you rose from your seat and stealthily made your way towards Theodore, who was engrossed in stirring the potion. Quietly, you approached him from behind, your hand reaching out to hook around the loop of his belt. Before he could react, you gave a playful tug, pulling him gently towards you. Startled, Theodore stumbled slightly, his back pressing against your chest as he turned to face you, a bemused expression on his face. "What are you doing?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he raised an eyebrow at your antics. You shot an impish smile his way, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you met his gaze. "Just trying to get your attention," you replied playfully, your fingers pulling gently on his belt. "Seems like it worked." You leant up and captured his lips in a cheeky kiss, hands still hooked in his belt loops. Theodore pulled away and cleared his throat as he took in your current situation, your chest was pressed against his, and suddenly the potion didn’t matter anymore. Now he was the distracted one; blushing himself.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Lorenzo paced back and forth, his uniform askew and his expression etched with anger. His frustration was evident as he vented about the argument he had just had with Draco. As you approached, you could feel the frustration radiating from him, his words sharp and biting as he recounted the altercation. It was clear that he needed a distraction from his thoughts, something to pull him away from the anger and irritation that consumed him. “That little bleach blonde git-“ Without a word, you stepped closer to Lorenzo, your hand reaching out to gently grasp the Slytherin tie around his neck. Startled, Lorenzo paused mid-rant, his eyes widening in surprise as he turned to face you. Before he could protest, you closed the distance between you, pulling him towards you with a gentle tug on his tie. And then, with a softness that silenced the storm raging within him, you pressed your lips against his in a tender and lingering kiss. At first, Lorenzo stiffened in surprise, his anger momentarily forgotten as he registered the warmth of your lips against his. But as the sweetness of the kiss enveloped him, he slowly began to relax, the tension in his shoulders easing as he melted into your embrace. For a minute, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you lost in the intimacy of the moment. As you pulled away, a sense of calm washed over Lorenzo, his features softening as he met your gaze with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. "Wow," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached up to cup your cheek. "That was unexpected." You smiled, your heart swelling with affection as you returned his gaze. "I just wanted to distract you," you admitted, your voice soft with sincerity. "You seemed like you needed it." Lorenzo's lips quirked into a small smile, his anger dissipating as he leaned in to press another gentle kiss against your lips. “Why was I pissed at the ferret?”

Draco Malfoy

In the aftermath of a disappointing Quidditch match, the Slytherin common room was abuzz with the tension of defeat. Draco stood leaning against the edge of a worn leather armchair, his brooding gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the fireplace, lost in his own thoughts. Despite your attempts to engage him in conversation, Draco seemed completely absorbed by his defeat, his mind a whirlwind of frustration and disappointment. You stood beside him, a sympathetic frown creasing your brow as you watched him wrestle with his emotions. Feeling a surge of determination to break through his brooding silence, you took a step closer, your hand instinctively reaching out to gently grasp the belt loop of Draco's trousers. Startled, Draco blinked in surprise, his attention finally shifting from the depths of his thoughts to your presence beside him. Before he could utter a word, you pulled him towards you with a gentle tug on his belt loop, closing the distance between you until there was barely an inch of space separating your bodies. And then, without hesitation, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his in a tender and reassuring kiss. At first, Draco stiffened in surprise, his eyes widening in astonishment as he registered the warmth of your lips against his. But as the sweetness of the kiss enveloped him, he slowly began to relax, the tension in his shoulders easing as he melted into your embrace. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached up to brush his fingers against your cheek. "I needed that." You smiled, your heart swelling with affection as you returned his gaze. "Anytime," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "I'm here for you, always." Draco nudged his nose against yours, connecting your lips once more and gently resting his hands on your waist.

Mattheo Riddle

In the cosy confines of Mattheo's dorm room, the afternoon sunlight filtered through the lake and through the window, casting a green glow over the space. You and Mattheo had returned from a long day of classes, and now you found yourselves engaged in a playful bout of wrestling on his bed. Laughter filled the air as you and Mattheo rolled around, teasing and tickling each other like carefree children. The stresses of the day melted away as you revelled in the simple joy of each other's company, lost in the warmth of shared laughter and affection. As the play fighting escalated, Mattheo managed to gain the upper hand, pinning you down to the bed with a triumphant grin. You looked up at him, a playful pout on your lips as you pretended to struggle against his hold. "Alright, alright, you win," you conceded with a chuckle, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you gazed up at him. Mattheo's grin widened at your surrender, his gaze locking with yours as he leaned down, his weight pressing against you. In that moment, as you lay beneath him, you couldn't tear your eyes away from his. Without a word, you reached up and gently tugged on the tie around Mattheo's neck, pulling him closer to you. Caught off guard, Mattheo's expression softened, his eyes filled with warmth and affection as he met your gaze. And then, with a tender urgency that mirrored the beating of your heart, you closed the remaining distance between you, pressing your lips against his in a sweet and passionate kiss. The warmth of the kiss enveloped you, leaving only the two of you lost in the sweetness of the moment. Mattheo's eyes shone with adoration as he gazed down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I love you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "I love you too," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity as you reached up to cup his cheek, your fingers tracing the contours of his jawline.

Blaise Zabini

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the Hogwarts grounds. You and Blaise walked back from the library hand in hand. Laughter filled the air around you, the echoes of shared jokes and the peace of studying together creating an atmosphere of joy. As you strolled side by side, the air felt light and carefree. Blaise, ever the playful soul, couldn't resist the opportunity to inject a bit of whimsy into the evening. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he twirled you gently, and a playful dance unfolded spontaneously between you. The two of you erupted into soft laughter as Blaise, in a mock-serious manner, took the lead, waltzing with exaggerated grace. He playfully dipped you, causing another round of laughter to escape from your lips. Your eyes crinkled with love and joy. As Blaise twirled you once more, a sparkle in his eye, you seized the opportunity to playfully tug at the tie around his neck. He grinned, understanding the unspoken invitation, and with a hint of anticipation, he leaned in as you pulled him closer. You pressed your lips against Blaise's, the kiss carrying a mixture of spontaneity and genuine affection. The world seemed to pause, and for that brief moment, there was nothing but the shared laughter, the playful dance, and the warmth of the kiss. As you pulled away, still wrapped up in the joy of the impromptu dance, Blaise grinned down at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement and affection. The two of you continued your walk, hand in hand, Blaise rubbing your knuckles with his fingers as he whispers in your ear. “I love you, so much.”

#slytherin boys react #blaise zabini #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #slytherin #greygaunt #Spotify

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marvelsmylife · 2 months

Text

Sisters Know Best

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron! reader

Plot: as the youngest Archeron your sister were very protective over you. What happens when you are taken into hybern and forced to be turned into a fae? What if when you come out your mate is standing there; injured but desperately wants to go towards you and reassure you that you are ok.

A/n this is the longest pic I’ve ever written! Brace yourselves for some ANGST. You guys are probably going to hate Feyre in this (along with Elain and Nesta)

ACOTAR Masterlist

Everything had gone to shit. In an attempt to get the cauldron from their enemy, Rhysand and the inner circle were captured, with Cassian and Azriel being severely injured. They watched in horror as you, with Nesta and Elain, were brought out by Hybern soldiers and were being taken to the cauldron. The king of Hybern wanted to show the mortal queens that it would be safe for them to become immortal and high fae using the cauldron.

“Feyre, please help me,” you sobbed to your sister; a piece of Feyre died in that instant as she watched you being forced into the cauldron.

Feyre, Nesta, and Elain let out an agonizing cry as they watched your head being shoved under the water.

You were under for a few minutes when you were finally pulled out and thrown onto the floor in front of everyone. The king of Hybern grabbed you by your hair and showed the mortal queens you were not only ok but you’ve also been turned into a high fae. Feyre tried to get to you when the king of Hybern threw you back on the floor; “This is all your fault,” Nesta shouted towards Feyre.

While everyone watched Nesta tear into Feyre and Elain became the next person to be thrown into the cauldron, Azriel couldn’t help but stare at you as you sobbed on the floor. You looked so broken, and even though he was injured, Azriel felt the mating bond. He tried to walk towards you. Rhysand held Azriel back and whispered: “Azriel, don’t.”

“Mate,” Azriel murmured: “She’s my mate.”

Rhysand had a panicked look because of the stories Feyre had told him about how protective she, Nesta, and Elain were towards you. “Are you positive,” Rhysand whispered.

“I had a hunch ever since I met her for the first time; ” Azriel started to recall the day he first met you in the mortal lands a few months ago.

The room was tense when they first entered the Archeron's estate. Nesta was arguing with them, not pleased to see them, while Elain tried to defuse the situation. Azriel was sure a fight would break out when they heard someone playing the piano in another room. It sounded lovely, and Azriel felt compelled to see who was behind such a beautiful song.

Nesta noticed Azriel’s reaction to you playing and stopped him before he even had a chance to make a move. “Do not even think about it. I’m keeping y/n away from your kind,” Nesta warned.

Right at that moment, you stepped into the room, and Azriel swore he had fallen in love at that moment. Feyre noticed Azriel’s attraction towards you and immediately got in front of him. “Please don’t,” she warned: “For your safety, I’m going to need you to stay away from her.”

Azriel was confused by Feyre’s request until he realized that Nesta and Elain were standing in front of you, blocking you from him and his brothers. “Don’t worry, he’ll stay away,” Rhysand spoke for his brother.

Since that day, he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. He often wished that he could see you once more. He wondered if you had a trail of men knocking on your door and asking your father for your hand in marriage.

Now that you’re here and turned into a high fae, he realized the reason he was drawn to you was because you were his mate.

Azriel was going to try and help you up when Nesta stormed over to you and helped you up. “I thought I told you to stay away from y/n,” Nesta growled at Azriel before taking you and Elain away from him.

Rhysand prohibited Azriel from contacting you while you stayed at the house of wind. He wanted to respect Feyre’s wishes to keep his brothers, especially Azriel away from you, and fortunately for him, he didn’t have to try hard to keep you two apart.

Like Elain, you also shut everyone out, often spending your days in your room or at the library with Nesta. You also refused to eat with everyone, so Nesta and Elain opted to eat dinner with you in your room. You knew it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism, but you couldn’t bring yourself to interact with anyone but your sisters.

Azriel in the meantime, was not taking your mental state well, seeing as he could feel your sadness through the bond. He wanted nothing more than to comfort you, reassure you that everything was alright. Every time he actually tried to visit you, Rhysand or Nesta would turn him away.

So he waited. He waited three excruciatingly long months before you popped out of your room while everyone was gathered for dinner. His eyes were on you as you quietly walked over to them and softly asked: “Is there room for one more? Maybe three if Nesta and Elain join as well?”

Azriel immediately got up and offered you his seat. Rhysand sent Azriel a warning look before you sent Azriel a wary smile and thanked him for the seat. Azriel swore he felt happiness through the bond.

He was about to sit next to you when Nesta quickly took that spot, and Elain took the spot across from you. Feyre sent Azriel a sympathetic smile when she noticed the frustrated expression on the spymaster's face.

Azriel finally opted to sit next to Elain, but he had his eyes glued on you as you took small bites of your food. He felt himself swooning when you looked over at him or when your face lit up at a memory Feyre shared when you were younger.

Feyre took notice and pulled Azriel aside when you disappeared into your room for the night. She was going on about how it wouldn’t be the wisest decision for him to pursue anything with you: “She just got turned; let her discover herself for a while, and we’ll revisit you potentially being around her.”

“I’m her mate,” Azriel confessed and caused the high lady to rub her temples: “Listen, I know I’m not good enough for her, but she’s my mate, and I’ll do anything I have to protect her.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re not good enough for her,” Feyre replied: “It’s just-it’s just that she’s my younger sister, and I feel the need to protect her from everything and everyone. Just give us time ok? I promise you’ll be able to talk to her but not right now”. Azriel reluctantly agreed before disappearing into his room.

Azriel didn’t blame Feyre, Elain, and Nesta for being protective over you, but at the same time, his body craved to be near you. He needed you by his side at all times, and that couldn’t happen if you were constantly surrounded by your sisters.

As much as he didn’t want to, Azriel waited. It took everything in him not to physically follow you around like a lost puppy. Since he needed to know you were safe, he had one of his shadows trail after you.

It worked for a few weeks, until one night, his shadow decided to curl up against your calf when you were playing the piano Rhysand had gifted for your birthday. “Oh, hello there,” you spoke to the shadow that wrapped itself around your leg: “Aren’t you supposed to be with Azriel?”

Azriel couldn’t help but smile when he heard you say his name. Deciding to ignore Rhysand’s and Feyre’s orders, Azriel entered the room, and the other shadows that came with him have now made their way towards you. “I’m sorry about them,” Azriel apologized and got your attention.

“It’s ok,” you grinned at the shadowsinger,“ I think they’re cute.”

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you when it dawned on you that you’ve never properly introduced yourself to Azriel. “Oh my goodness, where are my manners,” you shook your head before you held out your hand: “Hi, I’m y/n. I know we met briefly back in the human lands, but it’s very nice to formally meet you.”

It took Azriel a few seconds to realize you held out your hand for him before he reached out and took it: “It’s really nice to meet you too.”

Azriel wanted to ask you a thousand questions about you, but the sound of the front door opening, followed by the sound of your sisters and Rhysand arguing about something. “I should get going,” Azriel said to you and left the room in a hurry.

After that day, you found yourself seeking out Azriel at any time of the day. You thought he was fascinating and wanted to get to know him better.

Of course, your sisters voiced their disapproval, but for once, you didn’t back down to them. “Unfortunately for you, I get to choose who I want to spend my time with, and I’ve decided to spend my time with Azriel. He just- he gets me.”

Azriel was proud of you for speaking up for yourself and not allowing your sisters to dictate your life. At the same time, Nesta and Elain grew resentful of Azriel and blamed him as the reason you were talking back to them.

Feyre, for the most part, has accepted that you enjoyed spending time with Azriel, but she would drop by to see if her sister needed anything.

Little did Azriel know you started developing feelings towards him since the day you formally met. You didn’t know why, but you felt at peace whenever you were with him, and you have sworn he felt the same way.

Still, he has yet to express his feelings towards you, so you bit the bullet, and you decided to ask the question that’s been haunting your mind for the past few months: “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” You asked on a sunny autumn day and caused Azriel to look over at you in shock: “I mean, I know I’m not the most attractive out of my sister, but I feel like we have a connection and-”

“Don’t you ever say that about yourself,” Azriel cut you off: “You are the most beautiful female I’ve ever met.”

You bit your lip when you felt Azriel’s hands cupping your face: “Then prove it. Kiss me.” You dared Azriel: “I want this. I want you”.

Azriel ran his thumb against your lower lip before leaning in and kissing you. You felt yourself smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. “I love you,” Azriel proclaimed once he pulled away from your lips and rested his forehead against yours: “I love you, y/n.”

You were about to confess your feelings when Nesta showed up and pulled you away from Azriel: “What do you think you are doing shadowsinger. Y/n, are you ok? Did he pressure you into kissing him? Come with me”.

You looked at Azriel heartbroken while your sister took you inside to scold Rhysand for his brother’s actions. Azriel stormed inside and was ready to fight for his mate when you shouted: “Stop treating me like a child. All my life, you three have been coddling me to the point where I can’t do anything for myself. Azriel has been the only one who treats me like an adult”.

Feyre, Nesta, and Elain stared in disbelief at your words. “It’s about time you put them in their place,” Amren commented, earning a disapproving look from Rhysand: “What? It’s true. They act like y/n is a child when she’s nineteen years old. She should have the right to decide what she wants for herself.”

“That’s not all,” you announced: “I am in love with Azriel. I have for a while now, and you don’t have to like it, but you must respect that he is the one I choose to love.”

Nesta wanted to protest, but Elain stopped her by speaking out: “We respect your decision, y/n, and we’re so happy you are in love, right Nesta.”

Elain and Feyre sent Nesta a threatening look before Nesta finally replied: “Yes, so happy”. Nesta got up and walked up to Azriel before poking his chest: “If you hurt her, I will hunt you down and kill you. Slowly and painfully.”

“I would never hurt my mate,” Azriel barked back at Nesta and moved so he was blocking you: “She is my one and only priority.”

“Mate?” you whispered to yourself: “When did you find out we were mates?”

Azriel turned around and placed his hands around your waist: “Officially? The day you were turned into one of us,” Azriel: “But I had a hunch from the first time we met.”

“That was over a year ago,” you grew angry at the revelation: “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The room grew tense as you waited for Azriel to respond: “I wanted to tell you right away, I really did, but you had just turned, and I didn’t want to overwhelm you more than you already were. I tried telling you the months following your transformation, but Feyre and Rhysand prohibited me from revealing it. Then there was Nesta and Elain, who wouldn’t even let me near you for months”.

Your sisters shot a glare at Azriel for throwing them under the bus. “It was torture for me not to be near you for that long. It damn near killed me feeling your depression and self-hatred through the bond. That’s why when you started interacting with everyone else, I saw it as an opportunity to get close to you”. Azriel found himself dropping to his knees as he took your hands and continued: “I will forever cherish the time we spent together: with you playing your piano, myself reading a few feet away from you. Please forgive me, my love, for not telling you sooner”.

You couldn’t help but nod as you leaned in and kissed him. You could faintly hear Mor gush about the scene that unfolded before them. “Please don’t keep any more secrets from me,” you asked Azriel as you helped him up.

“I promise, my love,” Azriel replied, lifting you off your feet.

Nesta and Elain were ready to tell off Azriel for his action when you looked over and said: “My mate,” you couldn’t help but look up and smile at Azriel when you said the word mate: “And I are going to be in my room if you guys need anything” Azriel took that as his opportunity to whisk you away from the room. Just as you reached your bedroom door, you shouted: “Don’t need anything,” before disappearing into your room.

@purple-writer8 @saltedcoffeescotch @queenyasm @mischiefmanagers @acotarfics-mharmie009 @minaethrym @tayswhp @blackgirlmagicforever @sirenpearldust @olive-main @going-through-shit @littlelunatica @atrxidxs @mochisabs @zara-aliza08 @tanyaherondale @merla123 @lili-flower03 @brandinicole911 @sweetcaitlin @breemitch15 @sstrohma @meritxellao @mockingjaytributes @meshellexplosionmurder @mybestfriendmademe @xealia @impossibelle @lisanna2000 @aisrhiri @namelesssaviour @stained-glass-eyes0708 @fxckmiup

#azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

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theemporium · 10 months

Note

golden retriever and black cat dynamic for sirius black x reader please maybe with him flirting with her and she usually never responds or reacts but one time she flirts back and he's just flustered but she walks away giving him a kiss on the lips maybe

thank you for requesting!🖤

part two

If there was one thing about Sirius Black, it was that he was utterly and undoubtedly insatiable when it came to you.

You were opposites as far as opposites could go. He was always bouncing around and happy to chat anyone’s ear off, you were happy to bask in the silence. He was a people person, you preferred spending time alone. The whole school knew Sirius Black like they were his best friends, you had a small inner circle you stuck to. He was the ever-loved Gryffindor bad boy with a reputation known by many, you were just the scary Slytherin most people avoided on a daily basis.

You were an unlikely match in anyone’s eyes and, yet, somehow you had captured the heart of one of the most beloved bachelors in Hogwarts in a way nobody could ever comprehend.

“Did I tell you that you look absolutely gorgeous in those colours today?”

“They are my house colours, Black,” you deadpanned, not even looking away from your bubbling cauldron.

“You’re right, I didn’t even notice,” he replied and before you could even stop him, he was leaning closer to you until his breath was tickling your cheek. “You’d look a lot better in red and gold though, love.”

“Over my dead body,” you grumbled and swatted him away as you concentrated on the potion you had been brewing throughout the class.

“Don’t break my heart like that, love,” Sirius responded with a cheeky smile.

To anyone else, the lacklustre responses and short replies would have been more than enough to drop any semblance of a conversation with you. But not with Sirius, never with Sirius. They were like a challenge for him and a lot of the time he enjoyed your witty responses. He liked to think he was wearing you down, starting to at least reach friendship level boundaries with you even if everyone else said he was an idiot for trying.

But it became like a nice routine for the boy, something he would complete every day and know he got to see you each day as well. It was a comfort he enjoyed.

“Good morning, darling,” he greeted you as he approached you as you made your way towards the gardens. It had been a Saturday morning tradition of yours, one that Sirius picked up on and always managed to intercept with a charmed thermo of hot coffee ready for you.

“Morning, Black,” you grumbled in response as you reached for the thermo without any arguments needed from his side.

Sirius blinked, as if processing your lack of resistance, before he quickly spun on his heel and continued to walk down the path with you.

“So, uh,” he cleared his throat, his brows furrowed together as he tried to string together a coherent sentence. “I…uh—”

You suddenly stopped and turned to face him. “Are you sick?”

Sirius frowned. “No.”

“Then why are you acting weird?” you asked him, your eyes narrowing slightly.

“You just—” but he cut himself off, just shaking head. “Nothing, love, I am completely fine.”

“Fine enough to go to the Three Broomsticks tonight?” you asked him.

Sirius only smirked. “As I do every weekend, darling. Didn’t realise you were keeping tabs on me.”

“Good,” you said with a nod of your head. “I’ll see you there at eight. It’s a date.”

Sirius’ jaw dropped as you walked away, his eyes barely blinking as he let out some pathetic noise that seemed to catch your attention as you turned back to look at him.

“You better not kiss with your mouth open like that, Black, otherwise this might be our only date,” you called out to him before you continued your walk towards the garden, leaving a slightly confused Sirius standing there with his cheeks burning a shade of red they had never seen before.

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prythianpages · 4 months

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Wanna Be Yours | Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand x Reader | When the Night Court and Dawn Court strike a deal, healers in exchange for Illyrian training, you rush at the opportunity to leave your home. You plan to keep a low profile but upon meeting the High Lord of night, your efforts are futile. He takes an instant liking to you and is set on being yours.

warnings: angst, mentions of blood and injury

a/n: This can be read as a stand alone imagine :) but there will be a part two. once again, we have another mini series inspired by a song: I wanna be yours by the Arctic Monkeys. I love when the guy falls in love with the girl first and I feel like it suits Rhys. This takes place before the events of ACOTAR.

The world awakens to a gentle warmth–a tender kiss from dawn. The stars are like a fading dream, bidding their silent farewell and the first tendrils of sunlight emerge, painting the sky in hues of soft pinks and purples. The world seems to hold its breath and so do you.

It’s so beautiful. The way night surrenders to day. The way that no matter how dark it gets, the sun will rise again. It makes you miss home but you don’t miss what waits for you there.

“You don’t belong here.”

You startle and the world tilts beneath your feet. The edge of the terrace offers a daunting view of the Court of Nightmares–a harsh landscape of rocky mountains that seems to promise a swift but unforgiving descent. A hand grasps your arm, pulling you back from the brink, the force spinning you around until you find sanctuary in a pair of strong arms.

As you lift your head, the world regains its focus, but your breath hitches at the sight before you.

A man, heartbreakingly handsome, captures your gaze. He has sun-kissed skin and short dark hair, reminiscent of a raven’s feather, that frames features that seem almost too perfect to be real. Yet, it’s his eyes that draw you in–a shade of blue so deep it borders on violet. Flecks of silver dance within those celestial irises, mirroring the stars that had bid their farewell earlier. His gaze is intense, sparkling with an allure that feels both familiar and bewitching.

“Breathe, darling.”

His voice, a velvet symphony, wraps around you like the answer to a question you hadn’t even fathomed to think of yet–a revelation that ignites a feeling you can’t quite discern but it stirs the deepest recesses of your heart.

Suddenly, you’re pushing away from the male with a deep exhale as a delicate pink that reflects the sky above you flushes your cheeks.

“y/n!”

Your eyes widen at the sound of your name being called.

“y/n.” The male in front of you repeats to himself and you never thought your name would sound so beautiful as it does in this very moment. His lips curl into a knowing smirk.

Alette, your guide, comes into your view. She bends over slightly as her chest heaves and she catches up with her breath. She turns to the male, bowing her head in acknowledgment. “My High Lord.”

All blood drains from your face and your heart skips a beat. High Lord. You just met the High Lord of the Night Court and embarrassingly so. You contemplate whether it’s too late to bow your head or not but the thought of Alette scolding you for not doing it sooner stops you.

“I see you’ve met one of our new healers.” Alette inclines her head toward your sorry state. “I do apologize for her entering your palace without prior clearance.”

Cauldron boil you. You caught a glimpse of him pressing his lips together, as if suppressing something. Perhaps a scowl, frown or smile–you don’t know– because you're swiftly averting your gaze. You’re too scared to move, not wanting to draw more attention to yourself than you already have.

“Forgive me,” you’re saying as you drop to your knees and bow your head. “I didn't mean to trespass. I felt a little suffocated down there and I had no idea this was your home.”

“Where are you from?”

Panic steals your voice and it’s Alette who answers for you.

“She’s one of the few healers that came from Dawn, my High Lord.”

You sense the weight of his gaze upon you, an intensity that envelops you with an almost overwhelming power. Your throat tightens.

“And what of her skill?”

“The best of this year’s cohort.” Alette replies with no hesitation. There’s a subtle fondness in her voice that makes your heart swell with pride. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed.

“You may rise.” It takes a while for you to register that the High Lord is addressing you until Alette is awkwardly clearing her throat. You blink and rise to your feet but keep your gaze low.

“You’re coming with me.”

You lift your gaze, gaping at his back. Does he—No, there’s no way he can know. The High Lord pauses.

He turns his head over his shoulder and looks at you in an expectant manner. You look at Alette, who nods her head at you, so hesitantly, you follow after him. Your heart races as you hear him tell Alette to pack your things because you won’t be staying in the Court of Nightmares anymore.

Velaris, the city of Starlight, is a breathtaking haven nestled within the Night Court. It’s often referred to as the Court of Dreams. It’s a place of ethereal beauty and enchantment. The stark contrast it presents in comparison to the haunting Court of Nightmares leaves you in awe.

But what strikes you the most is the High Lord of the Night Court–the master of duality. In Hewn City, where the air is always thick with tension, he wears a cold, stoic mask and every calculated step he takes echoes the weight of his stern authority and great power. This is the High Lord you’ve heard of. So when he told you, you’d be joining him in the city of his private residence, you were terrified.

It was a short lived fear because the High Lord you’ve heard of is not the High Lord you’ve come to know over the past couple of weeks. In Velaris, he sheds the shroud of shadows and reveals a different side to him. A softer side. A leader built from genuine warmth and kindness.

You’ve come to understand he has a complex role as High Lord of the Night Court. He is a blend that is both harsh and dangerous, yet undeniably beautiful and remarkable, constantly navigating through the delicate balance of power and compassion.

There is one unchanging thread that weaves through both cities. A thread of charismatic arrogance. He carries it effortlessly, employing it in a charming grace. One that he directs skillfully, particularly, when he turns the full force of his charm on you. You’d be lying if you said you were immune to it.

Upon your arrival, the High Lord–or Rhysand as he prefers you to call him– introduced you to the city’s healer. Madja. Though you’ve undergone extensive training in your home court, it felt little compared to the years of experience Madja carried with her, leading her to take you under her wing as her apprentice. You were a fast learner and given the nature of Azriel’s–Rhysand’s spymaster– and Cassian’s –Rhysand’s general commander– jobs, you had a lot of practice and challenges to hone your skills.

A tired yawn escapes from you as you navigate the halls of the infirmary to Madja’s study with the intention of wishing her a goodnight before retiring to your room. Your stops falter when your ears pick up on the distinct voices of Cassian and Azriel and suddenly you’re wide awake.

“–was ambushed by dark forces–”

“–never seen so much blood–”

“–I should make haste then–”

“–he only wants y/n–”

Shadows slink out from the corners, momentarily dimming the faelight in your hand in a silent greeting. The voices, once animated, hush and then cease altogether. Madja is the first to emerge from the study, with Azriel and Cassian trailing behind.

"The High Lord requests your presence.”

Not much can unsettle you, given your role as a healer. You’ve tended to a variety of injuries, seen tremendous amounts of spilled blood and have had to navigate through the sorrow of heartbreaking losses. But this. This feels different. This isn’t just anyone. It’s Rhysand. The male, who despite his shameless flirting, has consistently shown nothing but kindness to you. Though the nature of your relationship is uncertain, the mere thought of him being harmed sends a sharp pang through your chest, an ache that transcends the usual clinical detachment you maintain in your profession.

There’s an urgency in your steps as you approach Rhysand’s weak form on the infirmary bed. His body is extremely pale and shivering. A thick layer of sweat clings to his skin. There’s blood everywhere. On the floor, on the bed. It continues to seep out of the wound at his abdomen.

His lids are heavy, laden with exhaustion but he still manages a weary smile when he spots you. “You’re here,” he breathes in surprise, his words carrying a blend of relief and vulnerability.

“I’m here,” you confirm with a reassuring smile as you brush back the dark tendrils of his hair from his face. Though your touch is gentle, the lines on his face seem to deepen.

The air around you begins to shimmer with a soft, golden light. You cast a keen eye over his abdomen, the golden light dancing around you as you assess the full extent of his injury. The wound is deep and not healing as it should and your nose crinkles as the pungent smell of poison drifts up at you.

Rhysand winces as your healing touch meets his wound. Despite his blood staining your hands, you move with practiced grace, drawing upon the healing energies within you. Each movement is deliberate, an intricate crossing between magic and skill as you strive to counteract the effects of the poison.

Rhysand sucks in a sharp breath. He feels like he is dying but he won’t admit that to you. He doesn’t want to scare you. “It hurts.”

“I know,” you respond, your brows furrowing in concentration. The quicker you work, the less pain he’ll have to endure altogether. “It’s the poison.”

His eyes squeeze shut and his face contorts with agony as you press further into the wound. A strangled whimper escapes from his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you frown, halting your movements. You turn your head toward the double doors, where you know Madja waited in her study despite the late hour, in case you required assistance. “Should I go get Madja instead?”

“No,” his hands weakly grasps yours to keep them from leaving him. “I–I’m okay. I only need you.”

You nod and take a deep breath, urging your powers to continue surging through your bones and veins. Charged with vitality, they embody a tender current, eager to breathe life into every fiber of the recipient’s being. You sense the poison recoiling at your touch, prompting another cry from Rhysand. Though you know the poison will put up a painful fight, there’s a sense of relief as you realize it is one you can win.

“It’s going to feel worse before it gets better,” you say, your eyes darting to your makeshift table. “I don’t have anything for you to bite down onto. I’m sorry.”

“Tell me a story,” he pleads, his voice desperate and raspy. “Anything. Please.”

“Anything?” You say in contemplation, falling into a thoughtful pause as you search your mind for a story to tell.

“When I was a little girl and my parents were separating, my uncle would take me to the countryside,” you begin to share, your voice softening with the weight of the fond memory and in the intimate space between you and Rhysand, a subtle shift occurs.

“It was my favorite place in all of Dawn. The flowers were always in bloom and the grass was tall and green. We would wake up early to watch the sunrise together. Those were the moments where the world felt so still yet so gentle.”

“One night, as the moon gracefully surrendered its space to the emerging sun, I cried. The realization of the sun and moon being eternal strangers gripped my little heart. The sun, in its golden glory, would never know the tender glow of the moon, and the moon, adorned in silver brilliance, would remain untouched by the sun's warm embrace. It made me sad.”

“My uncle, at first, laughed. He teased me, which made me cry harder. He realized the genuine depth of my sorrow and that’s when he shared something with me,” you continue, a nostalgic smile plays on your lips as you recall the moment.

Unbeknownst to you, Rhysand’s gaze warms in the gentle embrace of the shared memory. He’s momentarily distracted from the stabbing pain.

"He told me that the moon's glow is but a reflection of the sun's radiance," you explain, the magic of your tale intertwining with the magic of your healing touch. "How beautiful, he said. That the love of the sun for the moon is so pure that he sets down so that people can admire the beauty of her.”

"I was still sad, holding onto that stubborn desire to witness the sun and moon together. That's when my uncle introduced me to the magic of an eclipse—a rare celestial dance where the sun and moon finally come face to face. When the next one arrived, my uncle whisked me back to the countryside to witness it, and for the first time, I felt such overwhelming joy. Tears welled in my eyes but they were tears of happiness. I didn’t know one could cry tears of joy until that moment.”

Still aglow, your hands continue their delicate work. You observe a subtle relaxation manifesting in the features of Rhysand but there’s a weariness that settles over you. You know all traces of the poison are gone because its toxic essence was absorbed by you in your haste to protect him. It takes its toll on you, wearing you down and leaving you feeling slightly unsteady, but all you care about is him.

The gaping wound on his abdomen gradually yields to your skillful touch, and a peaceful serenity settles over his face. His eyes flutter shut, and in the hushed atmosphere, Rhysand's words pierce through, lingering like a delicate whisper in the air.

"I think I might be in love with you."

The confession tugs at the strings of your heart, urging it to soar, but you swiftly quell the rising emotions. You attribute Rhysand's words to the delirium induced by his pain, knowing he’d forget all about it. You wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot your story as well. You swiftly clean him up and use your magic to replace the bloody sheets with clean ones before taking your leave. Exhaustion tears at your bones and you can only muster a meek smile to Azriel and Cassian, who waited anxiously outside the infirmary doors for an update. You head straight to your room after and collapse onto your bed.

The following night, as you retire to your room from another day of endless work and studying, you find a carefully wrapped gift at your door. There’s no name on it but as you read the note attached, you have an intuitive inkling as to who the thoughtful gifter was.

To the Sun, in your golden glory, may you always feel such overwhelming joy.

A beautiful embellished trinket box lays beneath the wrapping engraved with two cosmic entities–the sun and the moon. As you open the small keepsake, you're greeted by a soft, ethereal glow that radiates from within. It casts a warm and gentle light and you watch as a projection of the moon and sun dance around you before finally converging into a mesmerizing eclipse.

Rhysand's POV

Like clockwork, Rhysand wakes at the break of dawn with the tendrils of a persistent dream lingering in his mind. A dream that has possessed his nights for weeks. As sleep releases its grasp on his eyes, he reluctantly rises from the bed and decides to get ready for the day, knowing that if he tried, he would not be able to fall back asleep.

He navigates through the familiar halls of the Moonstone palace, mindlessly making his way toward one of the terraces. His steps falter.

There, amidst the soft hues of the awakening city below, stands a feminine silhouette–a vision bathed in the tender light of dawn. You. A sense of cautious curiosity courses through him, eclipsing the remnants of his restless dreams. His gaze lingers on you. There's a nuance in your presence, a fine radiance that hints that you are not from here and though he should be concerned over an unannounced visitor in his home, he can’t bring himself to do so.

A subtle flutter dances in his chest. He’s speaking before he could even properly think.

“You don’t belong here.”

You startle and lose your footing. You’re about to fall but before gravity claims its toll, he moves with swift determination. He reaches forward and grasps your arm, pulling you from the dangers of the edge of the terrace and into the safety of his arms instead. You lift your head and a gasp escapes your lips. Your eyes widen as they look up into his.

“Breathe, darling.”

His mind is searching yours with a quiet desperation but all you are thinking about is how devastatingly handsome he is. He doesn’t perceive you as a threat. Yet, there’s something hauntingly familiar about you.

He hears a name being called. Yours. And then it hits him like a sudden gust of wind. You’re the girl from his dreams. The one he’s dreamt of nearly every day this week and as he repeats the name, his lips curve up into a smirk.

He found you and realization dawns upon him like the morning sun. You don’t belong here but not because you’re from a different court. It’s because you belong with him.

a/n: this part came out a lot softer than I thought it would. The quote I used about the sun loving the moon so much came from something I saw on pinterest. I am a sucker for the sun and moon and stars lol

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #acotar rhysand #rhysand imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff

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tsunami-of-tears · 23 days

Text

A Fresh Start

Poly+ ACOTAR Week 2024 - Day 1 (Beginnings)

Cazriel x Healer Reader

Summary: Azriel rescues Reader and takes her back to the Night Court.

Pairing Masterlist

Wordcount: 2.4K

Warnings: mentions of violence; kidnapping; injuries.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

You first met Azriel while he was spying on the human queens in the mortal realm.

The queens had captured you from the small village in Spring where you worked as a healer and were now holding you to study your magic - attempting to harness it for themselves.

Azriel had infiltrated their dungeons and was sneaking through the lower levels when he saw you. You were curled up on the rough stone floor of the cold, dim cell.

Azriel’s shadows whispered that you were covered in injuries - all at various stages of healing where they’d beaten you and taken samples of your blood and tissue.

When Azriel scented your fae heritage, he knew he couldn’t leave you there. He didn’t care if it ruined his mission. He knew what it felt like to be caged, he couldn’t leave anyone else to that fate.

Your eyes flutter open as a tall male shrouded in shadows, approaches the iron bars. He speaks to you in a calm and deep voice, “I’m going to get you out of here.”

You nod at the male, too weak to talk.

Azriel’s shadows allow him to slip into your cell easily, and just as easily winnow you away. He scoops you up, your body so frail in his arms, and he allows his shadows to envelop you both. He transports you to the River House where Rhys and Madja are expecting you.

————

Reader

The cool wisps of darkness wrap around you, soothing your many open wounds as your cell disappears into the black. The shadows disperse and you find yourself in a charming living room. The sun streams in through the open curtains, so bright you have to cover your eyes as they adjust.

You can’t remember the last time you felt the warmth of the sun on your skin.

You lower your hands to find two fae standing before you - a tall, handsome male with black hair and an ancient healer with a kind face.

You can feel the healer’s magic pulsing towards you as your legs give out beneath you. You feel strong hands catch you and the world around you fades into nothing.

————

Azriel

Madja tuts as she examines the female. “She’s a healer. They’ve been using faebane to slow her abilities. She’s lost so much blood, it looks like they’ve been extracting it - Mother knows what they plan to do with it. Praise the Cauldron that you got her out safely.”

Azriel looks over the female’s emaciated body, covered in wounds and bruises, and asks Madja, “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes, she will be. I just have to flush the last of the faebane out of her system, then her magic will do the rest.”

Azriel nods and looks up at Rhys. “I know I ruined the mission, but if they were using her blood - who knows what their plans are.”

“You disobeyed an order and revealed that their wards can be breached. You know what situation this puts us in,” Rhys sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But, this is bad news. Whatever they planned to do - I’m glad you rescued her.”

Azriel pauses, he expected to argue with his High Lord, but he didn’t expect his support.

“Come to my office and you can give me the full report. Madja will see to the female,” Rhys says, nodding at Madja as he turns and exits the room.

Azriel is torn between not wanting to leave the female on her own, and not wanting to disobey Rhys any further. Azriel doesn’t know her name, but he leaves her in Madja’s capable hands as he follows Rhys down the hall.

————

Reader

You awake to the sound of birds chirping and wind rustling through long grass. You glance around, taking in your surroundings. You recognise this place - it’s the meadow near your village.

‘How did I get here?’

A spring breeze caresses your senses, filling your nose with the scent of lilacs and fresh grass; the scent of home.

You walk through the meadow, and the grass withers and dies under each step. The shrill laughter of the human queens rings in your ears. Your heart pounds and adrenaline courses through you as you turn around, frantically searching for your captors.

With no one in sight, you sprint to the edge of the meadow where the trees will provide you with some cover.

You lean against a tall oak to catch your breath only to find it’s not real, and you fall to the floor. The illusion shatters and you’re back in your cell in the mortal realm.

You cry out, rattling the iron bars like a caged beast. You can taste your freedom on the tip of your tongue.

Feeling hopeless, you curl up against the stone wall, trying to find some warmth in the dark, damp place.

You see a figure approaching you, A winged male shrouded in shadows, reaching out his hand to you.

You crawl, trying to take hold of it but he’s too far from your reach. He slips away from you and fades away into the dark.

————

Your eyes open hesitantly and you try to make out where you are. You don’t recognise the room, but it’s not your cell.

You can’t tell if you were still among the living, or if you’d finally succumbed to your injuries and blood loss. Did you dream up the mysterious winged male? Did he save you? Or was he an angel of death sent to accompany you to the next life?

You sit up only for a splitting pain to shoot down the side of your abdomen, and a broken cry tears from your lips.

Pain. You are very much alive.

Wincing, you peel back the covers to inspect your body. Most of your wounds have healed, leaving only faint yellow-green bruises. Jagged silver scars fleck your skin as far as you can see, all various sizes. Whatever the queens did to you left a mark. Marks that your magic couldn’t heal.

A soft knock at the door grabs your attention. “Come in,” you croak, your voice hoarse with disuse. You look up as a dark stranger slowly opens the door. Your saviour.

“I heard you were awake,” he says softly.

“How long have I been out?” you ask.

“Two weeks.”

It’s a long time, but you’d been in that cell for months. Two weeks was nothing.

“Do you have any family we can contact, to let know you’re safe?”

You had no more family, they were all killed during the conflict with Hybern. There was no one to miss you so you simply shook your head at the male.

“Madja, our healer, said they’d used faebane on you to prevent your healing. She’s on her way to check on you now that you’re awake.”

“Thank you,” you say. It’s not enough, but you’re too tired to say anything more.

“I’m Azriel,” He says. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Y/N.”

Sensing you don’t want to talk, Azriel nods and exits the room as Madja enters with her supplies.

————

Madja ordered you to remain in bed for another week. She arranged for all your meals and medicines to be delivered to the room with magic. You hadn’t seen another person aside from her and Azriel since you woke, but even with the added comforts - you were feeling as confined by the bedroom as you had your cell.

By the third day, you’d had enough, so you decided to explore the house.

You get up, no longer wincing in pain thanks to Madja’s tonics, and make your way across your bedroom to the closet. You didn’t expect there to be clothes for you, but it was worth a look for something other than the silk nightgown you were currently wearing.

There wasn’t much clothing of use to you. There was a fair amount made from black leather, but nothing that seemed comfortable in your current state. You did find a robe, so you could at least cover up before potentially running into someone else.

You exit the bedroom and walk down the red stone hallway into a large open dining room.

Inside, Azriel is sitting at the table having breakfast with another male. They have the same broad leathery wings topped with great talons. This new male has longer hair, pulled back into a small bun on the back of his head.

Azriel watches you enter the room as if he knew you were coming. “You’re up,” he states bluntly.

“If I have to spend another day in that room, I will lose my mind,” you reply.

“Fair enough,” Azriel shrugs. “ Are you hungry?”

“Yes, very,” you say.

In an instant, a late plate appears on the table with a full breakfast. You take a seat next to the other male and start cutting up your food.

The male turns to you and says, “I’m Cassian by the way, I live here with Azriel. I’m Rhys’s general.”

You pause before taking a bite to ask, “Who’s Rhys?”

“You may not remember, but he greeted us when we got back here from the mortal lands,” Azriel explains. “He’s the High Lord of the Night Court.”

You look back and forth between Azriel and Cassian with wide eyes as the realisation of who they are dawns on you.

“You are… This is… Oh gods,” you exclaim.

Living in the Spring Court, you’ve heard the stories about the Lord of Night and his inner circle - none of them good. But, they certainly didn’t match the males sitting before you.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the loud gurgling of your stomach growing impatient for food.

“Eat,” Cassian says, a concerned look on his face, “You must be starving.”

“You don’t have to be worried, you’re a guest here,” Azriel chimes in.

You nod and tuck into your food.

When the first bite hits your tongue you moan softly. After being fed mortal food for months, even the bland food Madja was giving you had been an improvement. But this? All etiquette was forgotten as you shovelled more and more food down.

Your magic was using a lot of energy to heal all your injuries, so you easily polished off the large plate. You noticed Cassian staring at you with a slight smirk on his face. “Something wrong?” you question.

Cassian laughs and shakes his head, “No, I just haven’t seen a female eat like that before.”

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“Oh no, I’m impressed,” Cassian reassures you with a wink.

You roll your eyes and shake your head, laughing. ‘Typical male.’

“If you’re feeling up to it, Y/N, Rhys would like to speak to you,” Azriel states.

You look down at your attire and grimace. “May I have something else to wear?”

“Angel, I think you look great in that,” Cassian says, causing you to raise an eyebrow at him, “But we can find something else.”

————

After some searching, Azriel found a simple day dress in one of the other rooms. There was a slit on the side that showed more skin than you preferred, and the colour was not one you’d ever worn - a deep navy like the night sky.

It was still an improvement to the nightgown, so you changed and freshened up before returning to the dining room to meet Azriel and Cassian.

Cassian gave you a wolfish grin and asked, “Y/N, have you ever flown before?”

————

You were sure your screams could be heard all over Prythian as you soared through the sky in Azriel’s arms. You kept yourself tucked in close to his chest, so close you could feel the vibrations of his laugh when you screamed.

He touched down on the ground very smoothly and gently placed you on your feet. He held your hands for a moment to steady you.

Cassian landed beside you, a wide smile on his face. “Seeing someone fly for the first time will never get old,” he laughs.

You turn to follow the two males towards the manor when Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, appears in the doorway.

“I could hear screaming from the other side of Velaris,” Rhys laughs. “Nice to see you up and about, Y/N, please come inside.”

Once in his office, Rhys sits behind the large mahogany desk. You sit in the chair across from him while Cassian and Azriel stand behind you.

“Welcome to the Night Court, I must say it suits you,” Rhys says, flashing a feline grin. “I was hoping you could shed some light on what happened in the mortal realm. Any information you can provide will help us in stopping the queens. I’m a daemati, so with your permission, may I look inside your mind?”

You pause, wondering why he bothered to ask. ‘At least he’s polite about it.’ You nod and take a deep breath before allowing the High Lord into your mind.

You feel him sifting through your memories. Of years spent working in a village on the border of the Spring Court and the mortal lands, helping with war efforts. Of you being captured and the queens ordering experiments to be performed on you. From what you overheard in the dungeons, they were trying to figure out a way to use the magic to become immortal.

“Thank you, Y/N. This information will be very helpful. I also have a proposition for you. You can say no, but I believe your powers would be invaluable to my court. I’d like to offer you a permanent role here as a healer.”

“Thank you, my Lord, it’s an honour but I will have to think about it.”

“Please, call me Rhys. And of course. We can discuss the details once you’ve fully recovered. If you’re up to it, Azriel and Cassian can show you the city this afternoon.”

“I’d like that a lot, Rhys, Thank you.” You nod farewell to the High Lord, standing to face Azriel and Cassian. You give them a broad smile, “Shall we go?”

The three of you exit the manor and enter the streets of Velaris. Despite your injuries, you have a skip in your step as you walk along the winding paths. You feel oddly at ease with the two males and you can’t contain your excitement over your newfound freedom, over your fresh start.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

Tags ♡ @littlestw01f @impossibelle @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @the-wall-willow @xasael

#poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d1 #poly!acotar #cazriel x reader #acotar #acosf #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #acotar oneshot #acomaf

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thebellearchives · 1 month

Text

𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘

~ solomon ; obey me

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : staring at Solomon you realise how lucky you are to be by his side and how much more time you’d like to spend with him

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff, second part to blessed although you don’t need to read it to understand this one

‧₊˚ a / n : i was having a hopeless romantic moment and remembered that sol shot i wrote for @nnnneeev (‘: blessed was centered around solomon’s thoughts so i thought it would be nice to write mc’s thoughts this time! enjoy!

You look up from the book you’re holding. Across the table, Solomon squints a little as he studies the amount of liquid in the vial before pouring it in a small cauldron. The sight of him makes you instantly forget all of the words printed in the old book he lent you. You forget your surroundings, the question you were about to ask, the experiment you had been helping him with. Your eyes glide all over him, his long fingers reach for a flower and pick out three petals. His silver eyes flicker towards the book on his right side, double checking he’s using the right amount, and his pearly hair almost hides those beautiful irises from you.

Every little thing about him captures your attention, the way his long white lashes frame his eyes as he goes back to the cauldron, the ways he slightly licks his lower lip unconsciously. If it weren’t for those little movements you’d think he’s a figment of your imagination, but it’s the way his pupils dilate slightly when he uses a little bit of fire to burn the petals that makes you think that yes, he’s real. He’s alive, he breathes the same air as you and my god, it feels like a dream. He looks like a dream.

It’s not like you’d usually forget all that you’ve been through in the devildom, but when you have the chance to admire him you do. You don’t remember how you ended up helping him with this new experiment, how you ended up being his apprentice. One day you were living your life up in the human world and the next you were staring at the immortal sorcerer who had showed you more than you would’ve ever believed real. It’s a privilege, really, to have in front of you someone as knowledgeable and passionate as him. You could hardly believe he was who he was, or the position you had found yourself in.

You hadn’t lived as much as he had, that was for sure, but it was moments like this that made it all worth it. And maybe, just maybe, he thought the same way? Maybe he was finally content with the life his immortality had brought him to? It had been a long time since he said something negative about it, you had noticed.

He calls your name then, and you jolt a little, blinking repeatedly as he snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Are you okay?” he chuckles, his bright smile has you swooning in your head “are you having trouble with the book?”

“No” you shake your head and smile back “sorry, i just kinda zoned out”

“Yeah? What were you thinking about?” he raises his brows curiously, a little teasing smile curves the corners of his lips.

You remain silent for a second, trying to decide if you want to be honest or just play it off. Until you remember some words he told you weeks ago, and you smile a little too.

“Just that you’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

You know you caught him off guard when his hands stop mid-air. His eyes widen a bit, and you notice the way his cheeks slowly start turning red little by little. He clears his throat, flustered, resuming the potion process.

“I’m… honoured you think that way, angel”

A warm feeling sits on your chest at his tender tone, and the blush in his cheeks makes you feel a little proud. You know he’s not as good at receiving compliments as he thinks he is, and you finally understand why he finds it so amusing to fluster you too. You knew it then: you’d never regret eternity if you could spend it by his side.

#; fluffy belle #obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me solomon #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #solomon x you #obey me solomon x reader #obey me x y/n #obey me x you #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #gn!reader #gn!mc

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nanstgeorge · 25 days

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I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.

#elain archeron #acotaredit #acotar #my edits*#elainarcheronedit

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ashen-crest · 2 months

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“You’ve brought a…friend?” they said. “Eli Valenz,” Ambrose said, “may I introduce you to Xavion Demachel, a Guild potioneer from the Driftwood.” “Charmed,” Eli said charmlessly. “Enchanted.” Xavion showed every one of their teeth, then turned back to Ambrose. “My dear Amby, I didn’t see any of your work in the last quarterly. Slowing down in your old age, are you?” Ambrose’s gaze turned frigid. Dawn only regretted she hadn’t brought popcorn for this.

Potion Con drama, let's go!!

#a captured cauldron

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starlingflight · 1 month

Note

I have only recently discovered your writing and was wondering if you've done a scene where Harry tells Ginny he smells her in his Amortentia?

I just think you capture their personalities so perfectly that I think you'd do the scene justice.

Anon, you're my new favourite person - so I dropped everything and wrote this for you 😘

AO3 or read below:

The smell hit her like a punch to the gut.

It had been lying dormant, in wait, hanging unseen in the air of the dungeon corridor, ready for Ginny to wander unwittingly into its trap.

She wasn't even taking potions this year, but Luna was, and the first day of Ginny's sixth year at Hogwarts had been so lonely and unpleasant that she'd been unable to resist using the end of her free period to wander down here to meet one of the few friendly faces remaining to her in the castle when the school day officially ended.

It wasn’t the homely, comforting aroma of her mother’s apple pie that had the heart-wrenching effect on her, nor was it the damp, earthy fragrance that brought to mind the orchard after summer rainfall. The scent that had Ginny leaning heavily against the cool stone wall was more subtle, a faint hint in the air of something woodsy, evergreen and clean, and so intrinsically Harry that she suspected it would’ve taken her breath away even if she’d been expecting it.

The door to the potions classroom burst open, spilling a handful of her classmates into the dimly-lit corridor. Ginny forced herself to stand upright, before anyone could see a hint of her distress.

Despite their shaking, her legs carried her forward. Some invisible force summoned her; she pushed against the crowd exiting Slughorn's classroom, slipping through the doorway; ignoring Luna's puzzled gaze as she followed the scent to a golden cauldron sitting atop the nearest desk.

The surface of the potion within had an opalescent sheen, and the vapour rising from it was ascending towards the stone ceiling in distinctive spirals that would’ve allowed her to identify it even if the overpowering scent hadn’t already given away its identity.

“Amortentia,” Ginny read aloud, peering over the top of Ron’s borrowed copy of Advanced Potion Making from where she was sitting on the ground opposite Harry. “Sounds a lot more interesting than levitation charms.”

Harry looked up. Distracted from his attempts at revision, his head fell back slightly against the beech tree he was leaning against. “Slughorn brewed it for our first lesson this year. I could smell it before I even walked into the classroom.”

Ginny tossed the charms textbook she’d been pretending to read aside, giving him her full attention, which, really, he’d had from the moment he’d convinced her to leave the library in favour of the castle's sunlit grounds. “And what does Harry Potter smell when confronted with the world’s strongest love potion?”

Harry’s cheeks flushed and Ginny’s grin widened. Making him blush was a new, and favourite, activity of hers. “I’ll tell you next year,” he said evasively. “When you can tell me what you smell too.”

Fleetingly, she considered accepting his non-answer. It was, after all, a deeply personal question. But this was one of the few boundary-pushing questions that Ginny could ask, unlike the others that she unswervingly steered away from – what are you whispering with Ron and Hermione about? What are you doing when you’re summoned to Dumbledore’s office? Why do I feel like talking about anything further ahead than next Tuesday is tempting a fate that I’m not ready to face? – Amortentia, by contrast, seemed utterly tame.

She rolled onto her stomach, her elbows sinking into the grass, supporting her upper body and holding it upright. Her smile, she knew, was full of challenge. “I bet I can guess.”

Harry’s eyes wandered the length of her body, before returning to her face. He mirrored her smirk. “And if you can’t?”

Laughter rose, light and breathy in her throat, but Ginny swallowed it down, schooling her face into a look of total seriousness. “A forfeit of your choosing… and if I win, a reward of mine.”

Despite what half the school would probably say, Harry was absolutely terrible at hiding his smile. He shook his head. “Considering my choice of forfeit, and your choice of reward are definitely the same thing, there doesn’t seem to be much risk for you here?”

“Or you,” Ginny countered, conveniently ignoring the risk of him having to reveal a deeply personal fact.

The spark in Harry’s eyes told her he hadn’t forgotten the risk, though he didn’t say as much. “We should probably just skip to kissing then.”

There was nothing she could do to contain her laughter in the face of such a brazen statement; it rang out clear and bright across the grounds. A few weeks ago, when she’d been starting to wonder if he was going to tiptoe around this growing attraction between them forever, the idea of him saying such a thing outright to her would’ve been unimaginable.

She tilted her head to the side, pretending to consider the suggestion. It did sound tempting, but Ginny knew that neither of them would really agree to it. Lines had been drawn. A challenge laid out. Satisfaction must be granted.

She started with the obvious. “Treacle tart.”

Harry’s smile fell, clearly concerned by the speed with which Ginny had delivered a correct guess. He recovered quickly, one corner of his mouth twitching. “Been watching my dessert habits closely, have you?”

Ginny ignored this, finding nothing worthy of denial in the question. “Now it’s a matter of narrowing down what you like more… flying seems an obvious choice, but there’s your fondness for Hedwig to consider–”

“Hedwig?” Harry burst out. He leaned forward, leaving the tree trunk behind as he looked at her disbelievingly. “I did not smell my owl in a love potion!”

“Well, it sounds weird when you put it like that,” Ginny said, fighting the urge to laugh once more at the outraged expression on Harry’s face. “Stop looking at me like that! She's an important presence in your life – I think she’s amortentia-worthy!”

Harry’s expression remained unchanged. “...She’s an owl.”

“Fine,” Ginny sighed, shaking her head. “But I think Hedwig would be deeply offended by your reaction.”

Harry released a snort of laughter, returning his back to the tree. “Well, it’s a good job she’s not as nosy as you, so she’ll never have to know.”

“Flying then,” Ginny pondered loudly, her fingers twisting in the grass as she let Harry’s comment pass without argument. When it came to her interest in him, ‘nosy’ didn’t quite cover it.

She fell silent for a moment, considering the many possible scents associated with flying. Her mind immediately went to the rich, leathery fragrance of a quaffle, but she dismissed this at once. She was a chaser, not Harry. Snitches, delicate and metallic, didn’t really smell of anything in her opinion. Being in the air had a unique smell, fresh and clear, but that wasn’t right either.

Flying, she knew, started before you got in the air. Flying was the sense of anticipation, flying was the rush of pushing off from the ground, flying was endless possibilities.

“Your broom,” Ginny said definitively after another moment of deliberation. Broomsticks were freedom.

Harry nodded, confirming her guess correct. Their eyes met, and she knew, without either of them speaking, that her reasoning was sound too.

“Two out of three…” Ginny mused, waiting for Harry to correct her if her calculations were wrong. He didn’t.

This time the silence that fell between them was charged with suspense, though Ginny suspected this might just be in her head. A flutter of butterflies had broken loose in her stomach.

She didn't need to be in the presence of a cauldron of amortentia to know that she would smell him. The way he looked at her, it didn't feel completely out of the realm of possibility that Harry would smell Ginny too, but they'd only been together for a matter of weeks, and she'd wanted him for years, and if she guessed herself, and he told her she was wrong, she wasn't sure she'd be able to take the blow.

“Not Hedwig…” she smirked with an air of confidence she definitely didn't feel, buying time, and coaxing a smile onto Harry's face that went some way to soothing Ginny's nerves.

“Definitely not,” Harry agreed.

“More food?” Ginny hedged, watching his face carefully for a reaction. “Or something like that? You do have a liking for butterbeer.”

Harry shook his head. His lips pressed together but Ginny could still see a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You're doing this on purpose.”

Her heart was beating frantically in her chest. “Doing what?”

Harry cocked an eyebrow at her. “If you make me admit it, you don't win.”

Her butterflies were flying wildly now, swooping and diving within her. For once, Ginny found she didn't care very much about winning at all. “I want you to say it.”

“Fine,” Harry sighed. His hand found hers on the ground, fingers entwining together in the long blades of grass. Much to Ginny's delight, his blush made a return. “You… your hair, if you want me to be specific.”

“My hair?” She asked, somewhat breathlessly. Her free hand reached out and pulled a strand of her hair to her nose. “It just smells like hair.”

Harry's cheeks turned from a faint rosy pink, to flushed crimson. “It smells like flowers.”

“Flowers,” Ginny whispered, elevating the word to the height of the world's greatest compliment in her mind. She was certain her smile looked completely ridiculous, but she was incapable of caring. She pulled herself upright, careful that their hands remained clasped together. She shuffled forwards on the grass until her face was inches from Harry's. “Really? My hair?”

“Yes,” Harry laughed; there was a hint of nervousness beneath the usually carefree sound. “Can you stop looking so pleased with yourself?”

Ginny's smile remained in place as she shook her head. “No, I don't think I can.”

“This can't be news to you,” he protested, apparently gathering some confidence from how clearly delighted Ginny was about this revelation. “Have I not made my feelings clear?”

She supposed he had, in a very Harry-ish way. Kissing her in the centre of the full common room had been a fairly loud declaration, even if no words had been exchanged at that particular moment, and he'd been very attentive from that moment onwards, but this was different. Amortentia was magic; pure, and ancient, and undeniable.

“I’m ready for my forfeit now,” Ginny announced, not waiting for any further instructions before leaning forwards, her lips finding his, eager to make her own feelings clear in what time they had left before lunch ended–

“Miss Weasley!” Professor Slughorn's voice pulled Ginny abruptly back to the present.

She was standing beside the golden cauldron; her knuckles had turned a ghostly white from the strength with which she gripped the edge of the desk. She was breathing deeply, taking in great lungfuls of the heady scent emanating from the potion.

Slughorn was frowning at her, his face a mask of concern and pity. Ginny wasn't sure which sentiment she hated more.

“Sorry,” she said, using all her force of will to take a definitive step away from the desk. “I was just looking for Luna.”

“I'm here,” Luna said from the doorway. Her eyes were wide, piercing. “Did you want to go to dinner?”

Ginny nodded, now that she'd come to her senses she was desperate to remove herself from the dungeons and the heavy miasma that surrounded her.

Slughorn cleared his throat uncomfortably before she'd taken even a step towards Luna. “Are you sure you're alright, Miss Weasley? I wouldn't want you to go up to dinner if you're not feeling yourself… there's a lot of observant eyes in the great hall these days.”

“I'm fine,” she lied, ignoring her thundering heart, and schooling her face into a mask of perfect neutrality she was already fed up with wearing after only one day of term.

“Very well,” Slughorn nodded, though he still looked reluctant to let her go. His eyes travelled between Ginny and Luna. “The weather's still quite fine for this time of year,” he said, his tone observational. “I always find a walk around the grounds to be a pleasant prelude to one's dinner… There's nothing quite like fresh air to clear the mind.”

#hinny #harry x ginny #hbp missing moment #ginny weasley #harry potter

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bright-side20 · 3 months

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HOFAS SPOILER (concerning the Cauldron)

_First let's go back to Rhys's explanation of the mating bonds:

“What decides it? Who decides it?” Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies …”

It is clearly stated that the bond can be decided by fate, the mother, or the cauldron.

“There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.” A smile at me—at the rareness, perhaps, of what we had'.…' Many mated pairs will try to make it work, believing the Cauldron selected them for a reason. Only years later will they realize that perhaps the pairing was not ideal in spirit.”

There are bonds only to provide the strongest offspring, like Rhys's parents or Tamlin's parents bond and there are rare bonds of true paired souls like Feysand and Nessian bond.

HOFAS:

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the daglan captured it and used their power to twist it. To turn it into something more lethal. No longer a tool of creation, but of destruction.

An explanation by a Daglan:

We gathered our power and imbued these gifts in the Cauldron, so that it would work our will. With this, the treasures were made. And then we connected the essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world. Destroy the Cauldron and you destroy this world. One cannot exists without another.

The Cauldron was turned by the Daglan to serve their agenda, and they connected it to Prythian in a way that if anyone tries to destroy it, Prythian will be destroyed as well.

_Now, let's get an idea about the Asteri's aka Daglan breeding system:

Celestina only said, “He departs tomorrow. I shall visit his keep next month if there is not … a change in my situation by then.”If she hadn’t gotten pregnant.

Hunt nodded, even as disgust and rage curled through him. The Asteri had ordered this, done this. They’d make Celestina keep going to Ephraim until she was pregnant with the child they wanted her to bear. Another little Archangel for them to mold into a monster.

Doesn't it sound like 'producing strong' offspring, 'natural function'?

What if the Asteri back in Prythian manipulated the cauldron to create mating bonds, knowing the importance of it for the Fae, so they could benefit from their children and manipulate them?

I don't know why antis kept accusing Elriels of spreading misinformation, considering our conclusions are based on what's written in the books.

The Cauldron literally operates under Daglan's system, so it can't be trusted; indeed, it is not a perfect matching system.

_Let's get back to these important scenes:

"If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.”.... “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

Madja here is clearly addressing the real meeting bond—the one of paired souls.

Lucien:

“There’s a bond—it’s a real thread,” he said, more to himself than us. .... “And I got to Elain’s end of it when she ran off.” “Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek. Whatever he’d felt, it wasn’t what we were looking for. Even if we had no idea what, precisely, that was.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

Azriel :

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

I think this was foreshadowing. Even though a bond exists between them, Lucien wasn't able to sense the change in Elain, while Azriel managed to discern it.

What if the Cauldron's bond between Lucien and Elain, described as 'a thread tied to a rib,' is what was considered a 'natural function'? Yet, there exists another bond between her and Azriel, 'a bridge between souls,' and they are the true paired souls by the mother or the fate . What if the Cauldron was wrong?

I know the antis argument of that means Lucien is stronger than Az, which is why the Cauldron chose him for Elain. When the bond snapped between them, Azriel was out of power, literally dying. It's another reason the Cauldron might be wrong.

Also, the argument: if the Cauldron is corrupted and loves Elain, then she's a villain.

Duh? Why not consider that even though it's corrupted, it recognized Elain's pure heart and her power, the different kind of strength concentrated in her kindness? If she influenced it, maybe she has the ability to fix the Cauldron, turning it back to its original purpose, a tool of creation, not destruction.

#hofas spoilers #pro elain #pro elriel #elriel supremacy #elriel #elain archeron

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harveyb-wabbit92 · 1 year

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[After Blitzo accidentally get himself, Stolas , R/n, Loona and himself trapped in a cursed storybook call The Grimoire of Fairytales. Blitzo and R/n are captured by the witch from Hansel and Gretel. R/n is sweeping the floor as she looks at Blitzo who is gorging himself on pies and other sweets.]

R/n: You do realize she’s just fattening you up so she can eat you right?

Blitzo: ....hmmm, Meh! *keeps eating*

the Witch, slaps R/n: Stop your chattering and sweep! This house is filthy!

R/n: What'd you care? It's not like you have any friends.

The Witch, offended: I have a boyfriend!

{Both Blitzo and R/n are skeptical.]

Blitzo & R/n: Pssht, yea, sure.

the Witch: What? I do!

R/n: Oh, yeah? What's his name?

the Witch: George..*looks at the cauldron* Cauldron.

[Both Blitzo and R/n laugh.]

Blitzo: "George Cauldron"? Maybe he can fix me up with Jim Ladle!

The Witch: Oh that does it!

[the Witch is about to throw Blitzo into the oven when Loona busts through the wall by eating it]

Loona: Hmm, sugar walls

Blitzo: Loonie? you’ve come to rescue us!

Loona: Eh, Rescue you, stuff myself with candy, it's all good.

[she takes a bite out of a candy cane support beam]

the Witch: That was a load bearing candy cane, you clumsy mutt!

Stolas, as he walks inside: Loona, did find....Them?*He sees R/n all beaten up and Blitzo about to stuffed in a oven ,Goes feral*

[After Stolas throws the Witch into the oven, Her George Cauldron shows up at the house]

George: Hello, I'm George Cauldron. Is Suzanne ready yet?

Stolas: Almost, just give her another 20 minutes.

[turns up the oven heat. He along with Loona, Blitzo and R/n laugh.]

George, looks down at his watch: But the concert's at 8:00! {The four vacate the area.}

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

R/n = (Reader’s name)

#S: the simpsons tree house of horror #helluva boss incorrect quotes #helluva blitzo #helluva boss #helluva stolas #helluva boss x reader #blitzo x reader x stolas #blitzo x reader #stolas x reader

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thefiery-phoenix · 1 month

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PLATONIC YANDERE MALFOY FAMILY

Narcissa would probably be the first person to meet you and get obsessed with you? How? That's a very goo question but fortunately or unfortunately for you, she'd either spot you at Diagon Alley curiously checking out the cauldron shops and thinking what to buy for your first year at Hogwarts. Draco may or may not be in the same year as you but either way, you'll still have a new friend. Or she'd probably meet you at Flourish and Blotts reading your list and struggling to hold the books. She'll be ever so kind to help you with your books and she'll start cooing how cute and adorable you look, her protective motherly instincts kicking in to see such an innocent little child like you all alone. And she isn't too fond of your parents either for leaving you alone and if she ever sees them, she'll be having a word with them. Or maybe little more than having just a word with them

After that interaction she sees you come to Diagon Alley a few more times and each time she gets real touchy and grabby with you till you tell her to quit it and you try running away from her, hoping against hope that you'll never see her again. But Narcissa is infatuated with you and she just can't stop thinking about you and how you might be suffering with your so called family. Lucius will observe her cheerful and happy behavior and it would confuse him for a while till he demands her to explain why she's behaving in such a weird manner. Narcissa then spills her heart out to Lucius and Draco describing every detail and inch of you perfectly

Lucius just brushes her off not thinking too much about it but Draco is somewhat curious to know who you are and how you've managed to capture his mother's heart. He decided to keep an eye and a lookout for you if at all the does manage to see you and he sincerely hoped you'd be in Slytherin along with him

Draco would see you in the Great Hall for the first time either for your Sorting Hat ceremony or you're just there with the rest of the other people applauding the first years and stuff. Whatever the case is, if you're in Slytherin he'll be really happy and pleased, you'll end up sitting with him for everything and you're like the Slytherin Princess to the Slytherin Prince or something. If you're not in Slytherin and you ended up in some other house especially Gryffindor, he'll be sulky and sulk around for a while like a child when denied candy and his feelings are hurt. He wouldn't be able to spend too much time with you as he thought but no matter, he'll still find a way to make you notice him and make you be his friend. Oh, and anytime he sees someone trying to bully you or tease you, they'll be at the wrong end of Malfoy and his family and let me tell you, NO ONE wants to be on the wrong end of the Malfoys since you know.... they ARE Death Eaters after all and they're not going to spare the fool who dared to insult you like that

Draco will lure you into a friendship pretty quick and he's really clingy, always getting jealous if you pay attention to someone else other than him. If that person ends up taking too much of your time and attention he'll just get mad and secretly find a way to hex them and pretend like he doesn't know anything

Lucius meets you one fine day while visiting Hogwarts, to criticize Dumbledore's teachings of course and the ways and methods of education of the staff there. And Draco introduces you to his father despite your indignant protests. And guess who told their parents all about you in their letters to their parents updating them on what you do every singe freaking day? The little ferret here. Lucius finally understands why Narcissa and Draco are so obsessed with you and he couldn't believe someone so innocent and naive like you was getting mixed up in friendships with mudbloods, blood traitors, half breeds and half bloods (So sorry Hermione, Ron, Hagrid and Harry, no offence TvT)

Don't be too surprised if your real family disappears one fine day. Draco sees you crying and his heart feels like shattering into a million pieces, he doesn't want to see his darling baby sister/ brother cry! He thought you'd be glad that those fakers were now dead and you can now return home to your real family but he really didn't expect you to start crying. So, he'll comfort you no matter how much time it takes. Oh and guess which family now has custody of you? The Malfoys and if you've guessed that right, yay you, you win a cookie! 🍪

The Malfoys don't want you getting mixed up in all this Death Eater business but they'll find out anyways and if you're not careful of your actions you'll have Voldy as a platonic yandere for you as well. Bellatrix might be a bit sus of you at first but when she sees how happy and glad her sister is, she'll accept you as well and even though she isn't a Malfoy she will gladly kill anyone who dares to look at you in the wrong way

You'll always be their perfect innocent little angel in this dark and tainted world

#platonic yandere malfoy family #platonic yandere malfoy family x reader #platonic yandere malfoy family scenarios #platonic yandere malfoy family imagines #platonic yandere malfoy family headcanons #platonic yandere malfoy family oneshots #yandere harry potter #yandere harry potter scenarios #yandere harry potter imagines #yandere harry potter characters #yandere harry potter x reader #dark harry potter characters x reader #dark harry potter characters #dark harry potter

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merymoonbeam · 3 months

Text

A Tool of Creation

CC3 spoiler. You have been warned.

In acomaf we learn that book of breathings was made to control the cauldron.

“When the Cauldron was made,” the carver interrupted, “its dark maker used the last of the molten ore to forge a book. The Book of Breathings. In it, written between the carved words, are the spells to negate the Cauldron’s power—or control it wholly. But after the War, it was split into two pieces. One went to the Fae, one to the six human queens. It was part of the Treaty, purely symbolic, as the Cauldron had been lost for millennia and considered mere myth. The Book was believed harmless, because like calls to like—and only that which was Made can speak those spells and summon its power. No creature born of the earth may wield it, so the High Lords and humans dismissed it as little more than a historical heirloom, but if the Book were in the hands of something reforged … You would have to test such a theory, of course—but … it might be possible.” (acomaf)

So...only made can use its magic.

Made = Feyre , Nesta and Elain

And later in the book we learn that the book is written in Holy Tongue—Leshon Hakodesh.

She stared and stared at the Book—as if it were a ghost, as if it were a miracle—and said, “It is the Leshon Hakodesh. The Holy Tongue.” Those quicksilver eyes shifted to Rhysand, and I realized she’d understood, too, why she’d gone. Rhysand said, “I heard a legend that it was written in a tongue of mighty beings who feared the Cauldron’s power and made the Book to combat it. Mighty beings who were here … and then vanished. You are the only one who can uncode it.” (acomaf)

Might beings: Daglan/Asteri

And this is confirmed in Hofas.

Amren turned to Rhysand and said in that new, strange language—their language: “The glowing letters inked on her back … they’re the same as those in the Book of Breathings.” (acomaf)

Bryce's tattoo is in the holy language.

And later in hofas Rigelus says that it was his people's language.

“I can teach you things you’ve never even dreamed of,” Rigelus promised. “The language inked on your back—it is our language. From our home world. I can teach you how to wield it. Any world might be open to you, Bryce Quinlan. Name the world, and it shall be yours.”(hofas)

So the book of breathings can control cauldron and it can "open any world" to who can wield it.

Also in Hofas we learn that Asteri corrupted the Cauldron.

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced … those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage.(hofas)

So asteri turned it from tool of creation to tool of destruction.

Once upon a time...cauldron was good.

Can we use Book Of Breathings to uncorrupt the Cauldron? To bring it back to its natural "tool of creation" state?

In Hoeab we learn that the book of breathings is in crescent city. In jesiba's library.

Micah loomed over her. She stretched her arm out—toward the shelf. Her tingling fingers brushed over the titles. On the Divine Number; The Walking Dead; The Book of Breathings; The Queen with Many Faces …

Do we need to get book of breathings from crescent city? Is the crossover not over yet? Are IC going to think with bryce having the language of book of breathings tattooed to her body she might have had access to book of breathings at some point? Are we going back to cc in the next acotar book?

Also it is a great time to add that Cauldron is obsessed with Elain.

“You stole from the Cauldron,” I said to Nesta, who seemed ready to jump between all of us and Elain. “But what if the Cauldron gave something to Elain?” (acowar)

The Cauldron purred in Elain’s presence as the King of Hybern slumped to his knees, clawing at the knife jutting through his throat. Elain backed away a step (Acowar)

The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain … Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something … It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken. It retreated the moment Elain’s eyes fell on our dead father lying in the adjacent clearing. The moment the scream came out of her.(Acowar

Why did it give elain such powers? Does it want someone to see how it was corrupted? Does it want to turn into tool of creation state again? Does it see elain as its salvation? (As @riddlecrux talked to me about). All the others saw cauldron as a thing to be used. A thing to be control. But it was only elain who had never stolen from it as nesta did while she was in the cauldron. It found Elain so lovely that it gave her the seer ability.

And from acotar we know that elain look at things as hope.

I gazed again at that sad, dark house—the place that had been a prison. Elain had said she missed it, and I wondered what she saw when she looked at the cottage. If she beheld not a prison but a shelter—a shelter from a world that had possessed so little good, but she tried to find it anyway, even if it had seemed foolish and useless to me. She had looked at it that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger. (Acotar)

So maybe all cauldron needs for someone to look at it with hope. Also @riddlecrux told me that in cauldron myths and legends someone goes willingly into the cauldron to destroy it. Maybe in this case someone willingly going inside it uncorrupts the Cauldron..."Through love all is possible"

And we know that Cauldron is the most important thing in acotar

“Long ago, before the High Fae, before man, there was a Cauldron … They say all the magic was contained inside it, that the world was born in it. But it fell into the wrong hands. And great and horrible things were done with it. Things were forged with it. Such wicked things that the Cauldron was eventually stolen back at great cost. It could not be destroyed, for it had Made all things, and if it were broken, then life would cease to be. So it was hidden. And forgotten. Only with that Cauldron could something that is dead be reforged like that.” (Acomaf)

And in Hofas we learn that Daglan/Asteri made the Cauldron a kill switch.

“Once we left our home world, our powers began to dim. Too late, we realized that we had been dependent on our land’s inherent magic. The magic in other worlds was not potent enough. Yet we could not find the way back home. Those of us who ventured here found ways to amplify that power, thanks to the gifts of the land. We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will. We Made the Trove from it. And then bound the very essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world.” Solas. “So destroy the Cauldron …” “And you destroy this world. One cannot exist without the other.”

In my Mystic&Seers post I connected The Void and Cauldron to each other.

I managed to stand. To take one step before I felt it. The … thing in the Cauldron. Or lack of it. It was lack and substance, absence and presence. And … it was leaking into the world.I dared a step toward it. And what I beheld in those ruins of the Cauldron… It was a void. But also not a void—a growth.It did not belong here. Belong anywhere. (Acowar)

The darkness paused. “You are impertinent as well. Do you not know where I come from? My father was the Void, the Being That Existed Before. Chaos was his bride and my dam. It is to them that we shall all one day return, and their mighty powers that run in my blood.” (hosab)

And from Hofas we know that the Void is actually a blackhole.

The only force in the universe that ate light, so strong no light could ever escape it. A portal to nowhere. To a black hole. Wasn’t that the unholy power that Apollion possessed? The power of the Void. The antithesis of light.

And you know how Elain was when she came out of the Cauldron?

She had been always so full of light. Perhaps that was why she now kept all the curtains open. To fill the void that existed where all of that light had once been. And now nothing remained

The power of the Void...The antithesis of Light.

Elain got rid of that murkiness in her eyes. When Azriel understood what was wrong with her.

It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed. He asked Elain, “There is another queen?”

Elain blinked and blinked, eyes clearing again. As if the understanding, our understanding … it freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in.

Maybe thats all Cauldron needs. So maybe we just need to get rid of the Void, to make sure Cauldron returns to its natural state—a tool of creation.

Also in my Mystic&Seer posts. I looked up what Mysticism is.

Mysticism is popularly known as becoming one with God or the Absolute, but may refer to any kind of ecstasy or altered state of consciousness which is given a religious or spiritual meaning. It may also refer to the attainment of insight in ultimate or hidden truths, and to human transformation supported by various practices and experiences.

Cauldron is the absolute. We looked up that above.

The hidden truths part.

When theia and fionn overthorwn the daglan they didn't learn all their secrets.

They fought the Daglan and won, she went on. Using the Daglan’s own weapons, they destroyed them. Yet my parents did not think to learn the Daglan’s other secrets—they were too weary, too eager to leave the past behind.

And Cauldron made Elain a seer. Maybe to see to learn the other secrets The Daglan had?

We can't even ask Amren because her timeline doesn't even match.

In acosf we learn this.

Rhys shook his head. “Only vaguely now. From what I’ve gleaned, she arrived during those years before Fionn and Gwydion rose, and went into the Prison during the Age of Legends—the time when this land was full of heroic figures who were keen to hunt down the last members of their former masters’ race. They feared Amren, believing her one of their enemies, and threw her into the Prison. When she emerged again, she’d missed Fionn’s fall and the loss of Gwydion, and found the High Lords ruling.”

The problem is how can she go into prison when there was no...prison.

Silene made the prison what it was after she returned from Crescent City. So before fionn's fall...there were no Prison. Actually theia ruled from the Prison Island.

Our home had been left empty since we’d vanished. As if the other Fae thought it cursed. So I made it truly cursed. Damned it all.

One after another, I hunted monsters—the remaining pets of the Daglan—until many of the lowest rooms were filled with them. Until my once-beautiful home became a prison. Until even the land was so disgusted by the evil I’d gathered here that the islands shriveled and the earth became barren. The winged horses who hadn’t gone with my mother to Midgard, who had once flown in the skies, playing in the surf … they were nearly gone. Not a single living soul remained, except for the monstrosities in the mountain.

So even Amren doesn't know. She is even confused in hofas.

Amren picked at an invisible speck on her silk blouse. “It’s murky. I went in before …” She shook her head. “But when I came out, there were rumors. That a great number of people had vanished, as if they had never been. Some said to another world, others said they’d moved on to distant lands, still others said they’d been chosen by the Cauldron and spirited away somewhere.”

So who is better to learn these secret than a Cauldron Made seer?

Also in hofas we learn that Cauldron sits on top of Ramiel.

“The Cauldron,” Nesta said hours later, pointing to yet another carving on the wall. It indeed showed a giant cauldron, perched atop what seemed to be a barren mountain peak with three stars above it. Azriel halted, angling his head. “That’s Ramiel.” At Bryce’s questioning look, he explained, “A mountain sacred to the Illyrians.”

And from Acosf we know that nobody went to look at what lies under ramiel. Sure enough Eris says "secrets". Maybe like daglan secrets???

Eris shrugged, and Nesta knew Cassian monitored his every breath. “There are three of them, you know. Sister peaks. This one, the mountain called the Prison, and the one the Illyrian brutes call Ramiel. All bald, barren mountains at odds with those around them.”

Eris gave him a mocking smile, but continued, “Unsurprisingly, the Illyrians were never curious enough to see what secrets lie beneath Ramiel. If it, too, was carved up like the others by ancient hands.”

What if there is more to under ramiel than we thought? What if its a secret Daglan hideout? I went into detail and what could have inspired it in my Wild Hunt post if you want to read it.

Also we know from acosf that Enalius tried to stop the "enemy" from reaching the stone on top of Ramiel.

Emerie’s eyes shone. “Long ago—so long ago they don’t even have a precise date for it—a great war was fought between the Fae and the ancient beings who oppressed them. One of its key battles was here, in these mountains. Our forces were battered and outnumbered, and for some reason, the enemy was desperate to reach the stone at the top of Ramiel. We were never taught the reason why; I think it’s been forgotten. But a young Illyrian warrior named Enalius held the line against the enemy soldiers for days. He found a natural archway of stone amongst the tangle of boulders and made that his bottleneck. He died in the end, but he held off the enemy long enough for our allies to reach us. This Rite is all to honor him. So much of the history has been lost, but the memory of his bravery remains.”

It was forgotten? Or was it never learned? What if it wasnt The stone the daglan was trying to reach but Cauldron as we know it stood on top of Ramiel? What if they were trying to reach that?

We also learn more about Enalius in hofas.

“You are no creator of mine,” Azriel said coldly. The Starsword gleamed in his other hand. If they bothered him, if they called to him, he didn’t let on. Neither hand so much as twitched. The Asteri’s eyes flared with recognition at the long blade. “Did Fionn send you, then? To slay me in my sleep? Or was it that traitor Enalius? I see that you bear his dagger—as his emissary? Or his assassin?”

The Truth-teller was Enalius's dagger. How did Azriel come to possess it? And we know that after Enalius's dead Fionn took possession of it as it was his friends dagger.

My father had never shown himself to be giving—long had he kept Gwydion and never once offered it to my mother. The dagger that had belonged to his dear friend, slain during the war, hung at his side, unused. But not for long.

And we know that Elain used the TT to kill the King of Hybern.

But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

So how did Elain stepped out of a shadow?

The asteri under Prison says Azriel doesnt know it use—its full potential.

Vesperus took another step, steadier now, and smiled past Bryce. At Azriel, at Truth-Teller. “You don’t know how to use it, do you?” Azriel pointed the dagger toward the advancing Asteri. “Pretty sure this end’s the one that’ll go through your gut.” Vesperus chuckled, her dark hair swaying with each inching step closer. “Typical of your kind. You want to play with our weapons, but have no concept of their true abilities. Your mind couldn’t hold all the possibilities at once.”

True abilities? All possibilities? There is more than just creating a portal to nowhere with gwydion? Maybe that's how Elain could step out of a shadow? The "unknown" abilities of the Truth-Teller?

Also Autumn king says this:

“The Starsword is Made, as you called it.” He waved an idle hand, sparks at his fingertips. “The knife can Unmake things. Made and Unmade. Matter and antimatter. With the right influx of power—a command from the one destined to wield them—they can be merged. And they can create a place where no life, no light exists. A place that is nothing. Nowhere.”

As @offtorivendell theorised in her mating bond theory. Did the Asteri messed with the mating bonds too?

Can the Truth-teller unmake a mating bond? As it looks the cauldron was corrupted? It even ties to Book Of Breathings and what it said in acomaf:

Unmade and Made; Made and Unmade—that is the cycle. Like calls to like.

And don't ever forget that...

"What if the Cauldron was wrong?" 🫡

#elriel #cc3 spoilers #cauldron #my brain hurts #I wrote all this and accidently deleted it so this is the second post that I had to rewrite #Im dying #hofas

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