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shiinata-library · 10 months

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Imagine: They know you can’t sleep at night

Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Bilbo's reactions when you can't sleep well during the journey.

Used to camping or not, sleeping outside in Middle-earth was something else than sleeping in your late comfortable bed in your world.

Thorin

Even though Thorin clearly noticed you’re tired every day, there is nothing he can do. Too many things to worry and think on this journey before looking after you. Gandalf wanted you to join them, so he has to take care of you.

Except that the wizard is always lost in his thoughts and doesn’t notice your tiredness, or you hide it well.

In truth, travelling on a pony is not tiring, especially because you always share it with a member of the company and they know how to keep you awake with their fun story or songs.

Not sleeping the night, otherwise, it’s more tiring! The East Road is harder and colder than you thought. And of course, you don’t have any modern, comfortable material. Who could sleep on this ground with just a blanket under you and another on you?

But, you don’t want to trouble anyone so you stay quiet about it. Everyone has other things to do than babysit you…

One day, at the surprise of everyone, Thorin offers to share his pony with you. To give the other ponies a rest, he said. As you don’t want to argue and you’re quite happy to ride with him – even if it’s embarrassing – you do as he said and sit before him.

As Thorin rides in the front, you can’t hear what the others say. Luckily, it’s not raining so it’s calm and peaceful. You can admire the landscape while Thorin manages the pony’s reins.

At some point, you wake up in a startle. Thorin just has the time to slip an arm around your waist to avoid you from falling. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” you hurry to say, looking around you and noticing thanks to the sun that you slept for a while. “I shouldn’t fall asleep!”

Your cheeks are burning, but you feel so well-rested now. Maybe it’s because of his comfortable, fluffy coat, or the peaceful atmosphere, or his warming, relaxing smell…

“Stop moving or you will fall,” he sighs as he holds you tighter to him. “I-I’m sorry!” is the only thing you can say.

“We’ll stop in two hours,” he says as you understand he means you can sleep again. “But, I don’t want to bother you. What if I fall and take you down with me?” you murmur as you feel his arm around you adjusting, making you blush, of course.

“I hold you. Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs in a regal, convincing voice. Then, as you lean against him like before, you fall quickly asleep. Maybe riding with him was the best solution so that you can rest…

N/A: Or sleeping with him on the ground. We can easily find other solutions, right?

Fíli

Since you had left the Shire with everyone, some nights were more tiring than others. Hard, cold and wet ground is not your favourite thing, but you could have recovered in a few inn, or in great places like Rivendell or Beorn’s house.

But after that, Mirkwood is quite a challenge. The nights are almost totally dark with weird noises and a feeling of always being watched. You’re not scared because the company is close to you, especially Fíli since he decided the forest wasn’t safe enough to let you alone even for a minute.

So when the spiders attack, you don’t have the strength to defend yourself. When the elves capture you, it’s the same. I think you're the last person they capture since they know you won't do anything. Very embarrassing…

Woman or not, you're thrown in a dungeon like the dwarves, no special treatment! The place is not comfortable but it’s dry and no sooner do you lie down than you fall asleep.

“Let me see her!” “She may hurt!” “It’s a woman, don’t let her in this place!” You wake up, still tired like when you have slept for too long and your body doesn't know where it stands. You hear Fíli yelling from a cell far away from you. You don't know how long he's been shouting, but his voice sounds tired.

As you start to wake up, you hear your door’s cell opening and someone entering quickly. Fíli knells before you and puts his hand slowly on your upper arm. “I was just sleeping, Fíli. I’m fine,” you smile as you sit up slowly.

Fíli hugs you suddenly, his mouth coming closer to your ear. “I know you were sleeping but I needed to see you,” he whispered, holding you tightly. “I know you need sleeping but I didn’t know if you were hurt, and those elves–”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off before he gets angry. “And I’m safer here than in the forest.”

You laugh until you notice you’re the one one. Fíli ends the hug and looks at you, “You’re safe only when I'm with you. I will stay here with you. Now you can go back to sleep as much as you need.”

“Thanks…” you can only say, too embarrassed by his words as you lie down, looking for his hand to hold. Now he is with you, you truly feel comfortable to sleep for days.

N/A: Oh, it’s more fluffy than I planned. 😅

Kíli

“You can sleep between us tonight if you want,” Kíli says one day after he saw you yawn several times in the afternoon, winking with mischief. He caught up with you on his pony with his brother not far behind.

“Maybe in your dreams,” you answer with a smirk, making everyone who heard you laugh. Even Bilbo smiles.

But little did you know that your answer would trigger a new form of amusement for the dwarf. Not a day went by without a similar remark when he saw you yawning. And as you don’t sleep well on a hard, cold ground, you yawn a lot…

You always laughed with him, inventing new answers making the others laugh, until your tiredness almost cost your life. After the trolls' exhausting night, you decide to sit down against a tree while the company explores the trolls’ cave. After a night like that, you could rest anywhere. So even if you didn’t want it, you fell asleep. It’s only when Radagast arrives that you wake up.

Half awake, you hardly understand what is happening. When the company starts to run, you try to follow them but all the fatigue you have accumulated over the last few days is making your movements slow and difficult. Some dwarves want to help you but Thorin’s yellings convince them to continue to run. You notice a few arrows flying next to you, killing the orcs closest to you until you end up alone in the middle of nowhere. A few orcs notice you and quickly run after you. Even if you look around you, there are no traces or voices of the company, only the yells of the orcs.

At this moment, you only have your hands to defend yourself, or your feet to run. But Mahal, Yavanna or any god from here had decided otherwise. A group of elves on horses arrive just in time to save you. They bring you to Rivendell where the company is regrouping in a circle.

During the conversation between Gandalf and Elrond, the latter helps you get off his horse. Gandalf smiles like you never saw and before you can say anything you feel two strong arms pulling you in a hug. Before you can say anything, you hear in a trembling almost crying voice, “I thought I lost you!”. Some incomprehensible words follow with quiet cries. You don’t know how to react so just close your arms on the dwarf you have recognised as Kíli, stroking his back to calm him.

“I’m fine,” you say with a smile as you look at the company, all still worried about you. “I’m a burden. You had no choice but to abandon me.”

“Don’t say that!” Kíli shouts as he pulls back to see you, his eyes still wet and red. “You’re not a burden! You were only tired and we left you alone…” He suddenly cups your two cheeks and pulls your forehead against his. “I promise we won’t abandon you again! And you’ll sleep next to Fíli and me every night! No negotiation!”

You can’t help but laugh at his attitude while you hear his brother sigh as he shakes his head.

N/A: I made him cry again. Oops! 😏

Bilbo

The ground is hard and cold at night. The morning dew is coverding you every morning. You don’t remember the last time you bathed. But well, do you have any other choice?

Oh yes, you have thought of walking back and to the Shire, but you can’t abandon them. So you stay quiet, enjoying the journey anyway. The days, when there is no rain, are fun. The company is fun and enjoyable.

However, there is one who doesn't mind complaining! Recently, a day hasn't gone by without Bilbo asking to stop at an inn. At first, he was asking politely, but now he just grumbles when the night falls.

It’s always a funny situation, especially when a dwarf hears him. “We’re sorry the ground is not to your taste, Mr Baggins,” some of them say. “Do you want some feathers for your pillow, Mr Baggins?” asked one of them when they plucked birds for the evening meal.

Of course, you try to hide your laugh, but Bilbo saw you every time. As you're in the same situation as him, you don't want to laugh, but the dwarves' remarks are always so unexpected that it's hard to hold back. So to take his mind off the situation, the two of you often have a chat before sleeping - even if you're a long way from sleeping.

Yet, one day, Thorin decides to stop in a town to buy supplies and allows everyone to stay at the inn. As you have no money, you share your room with Gandalf and as no dwarf wants to share their rooms with Bilbo, he joins yours.

We won’t lie. It’s the best night for so long. A warm bath, wine with your meal, a bed. You even forget how comfortable a bed can be! Your room is far from what you used to in your world but it looks perfect at this moment: warm, dry, and with a bed.

“This is the best breakfast I ate for a long time!” you happily say in the next morning. “No offence intended, Bombur.” The cook dwarf smiles, understanding what you mean. You devour your breakfast like the company next to you.

“Did you sleep well, Y/N?” Fíli asks, nudging his brother with a smile. “Oh yes, very well,” you answer with your mouth full. “I was so tired, the timing was perfect! I’m glad Thorin let us sleep here.”

“I’m sure it's not uncle you should thank,” Kíli says with a wink, making the other laugh. You stay a moment motionless, frowning in incomprehension. “Did you sleep well, Mr Baggins?” Fíli follows up, laughing at the hobbit’s reaction.

Bilbo was listening without a word until he heard his name, choking on his breakfast. As you all stayed in a Men’s inn, the furniture are too big for him and he had to put cushions under him to get to the table, bringing him to almost the same height as you. You quickly notice his cheeks becoming pink as your smile gets bigger. Oh, and don’t lie. Your cheeks are pink too.

“Oh, right! I should thank you, Bilbo,” you start, calling him by his first name as he had asked for a long time ago. You take his hand and squeeze it warmly, making his whole face pink. “I could never have slept in that bed if you hadn't asked so many times. I think I owe you.”

When Bilbo can speak again, he shakes his head, “No no no. You owe me nothing. I-I need a bath and a bed too!”

Then the others laugh and start speaking of something while you watch the hobbit resume his breakfast. Maybe you need to find something to thank him, but what?

N/A: What would you give him to thank him? 😏

#the hobbit fanfic #imagine #thorin x reader #fili x reader #kili x reader #bilbo x reader #fluff

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sepublic · 2 years

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In Witches before Wizards, it hurt Luz SO badly for Eda to laugh off the idea of Luz being a chosen one. Then in Covention she angsted over being a real witch. And by Enchanting Grom Fright, Luz felt partially motivated to prove she wasn’t weak by challenging Grometheus, only to fail! And then Separate Tides, Luz feels she was a burden for getting Eda captured and losing her magic, and tries to prove she’s not that, only to need Eda’s help in the end.

...She really must’ve thought that all of these incidents, especially Grom, just certified to Eda that Luz really was just some weak kid; Confirming another worst fear. Luz just has. SUCH a complex about being a burden. About being unwanted. A nuisance. And so she has to be useful, Luz has to bottle up her problems so she’s as low-maintenance as possible. Luz has to be cool and someone people actually like and would want to hang out with! She has to be worthwhile to others, and this entire scene... Where Luz realizes Eda is trying to send her and King away, her RSD leaps at the culmination of all these little storylines from past episodes that stemmed from this fundamental self-doubt!

So I love this show for having Eda reiterate that it’s not because she thinks Luz is weak, because even the strongest kid in the world shouldn’t handle this, especially not by themselves, and Eda should know because she experienced that herself. Eda doesn’t think of Luz as weak or a burden, Luz and King are EVERYTHING to her and if it comes down to it, they may as well be all that matters to Eda. It’s like before at Grom, when Eda didn’t lord it over Luz that she couldn’t handle Grometheus; Instead she reassuringly tells her it’s okay with zero judgment, and moves to help before Amity barges in with her gayness.

I feel so bad for Luz because it feels like she’s constantly repenting and apologizing for who she is, for her ‘shortcomings’ as a person and it’s such a good parallel/foil to Philip, who would’ve had a Puritan upbringing that hammered in such a toxic mindset. But Luz at least grew and chose compassion as a coping mechanism, even if she’s gone too far with it at her own detriment. Luz just wants people who would accept her, from who she is to what she has to offer, to believe in her; And after Camila sent her away to summer camp, for her own good, Luz managed to find Eda... The one person she felt she could count on not to do that, because Eda DID let her stay, instead of sending Luz back!

So this was the ultimate betrayal to her. No shade to Camila nor Eda, they both had their reasons and are both struggling... But again I love this show reiterating that adults are not perfect. That they try but they’ll make mistakes and they don’t always know what’s going on. But they do care and they don’t mean for it to come across that way (which reminds me of being neurodivergent, another aspect of this show). And it really is just about communicating and explaining things to your loved ones, instead of keeping them in the dark. Kids just want respect, especially growing teenagers, so getting that is such a huge coming-of-age hallmark. As is the realization on Luz’s end that Eda doesn’t have it all figured out, as cool as she thinks her mom is; But Luz still wants to be told that and treated as a person that people will talk to and regard seriously.

...Ah well. As heartbreaking as that fight between student and mentor was, it was also kind of a wonderful show of Luz’s strength and growth, how much her magical prowess has developed to keep up with Eda for even a bit; Which, given how Eda said Luz would have to earn her Palisman by showing her capabilities as a witch...

Yeah, that pairs very nicely with Eda realizing it’s finally time for Luz to carve her own, and Luz agrees as she decides her future.

#the owl house #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #edalyn clawthorne #meta

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my-favourite-zhent · 4 months

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New Tricks - Chapter 4

Ch1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

Status: Work In Progress Version: 1.01 Pairing: Rugan x AFAB!OC Rating: NC-17 (eventually, this chapter is PG-13) Genre: Adventure/Romance Summary: Misadventures of Rugan and the original Zhentarim Gate's crew before and during the year of three sailing ships.

Table of Contents Read Here on AO3 or below the cut~

New Tricks - Chapter Four

“So instead of the tablets, which I specifically asked for, you brought me a bunch of scribbles. Is that right?”

Zarys' voice was perfectly even, her volume that of a normal conversation, and her tone could almost be mistaken for friendly, almost.

Rugan knew from experience this meant she was very close to dismembering him in some way.

“Now Zarys, before we get ahead of ourselves-”

“Specifically asked for.” She repeated.

“They were just clay Zarys, not really relics or anything. The glyphs are all anyone would want.”

“How would you know, you bloody idiot? Are you a wizard now too? Read all up on artifacts are you?”

“Listen, just send the buyer and see for yourself. It's safer this way, I promise.”

“Fine. But if this job is fucked because of you I'm docking your pay, and I may just take a pound of flesh while I'm at it.” She walked to the office’s shutter window. She threw it open, overlooking the warehouse floor.

“Sal! Get me a damned sending scroll.”

“Right away, Zarys!” Came the red-headed wizards reply before she slammed the shutter back closed again.

“And you get out of my sight before I decide to take that flesh preemptively.”

Rugan inclined his head in deference and left without a word. He hurried down the stairs two at a time.

“Told you, you idiot.” Bellar was leaning on a pile of crates at the foot of the stairs. Olly was sat upon one crate fidgeting with his bow. They hadn't heard everything down here, but they had heard enough.

“It'll be fine.” Rugan tried to sound confident but he was beginning to wonder. Sal hurried past them, up the stairs with a scroll in hand.

“Don't expect me to cover your escape when you find yourself needing to flee the city.”

“I have a cousin here in Waterdeep you could stay with Rugan.”

“Dammit Olly, let him clean up his own mess.”

“I appreciate the sentiment lad but it won't come to that, and I don't want to hear anything more on the subject.”

“Rugan, can I talk to you for a moment?” It was Garias who had approached the trio.

“Now's maybe not the best time.”

“It's about Brem.”

Rugan dragged one hand down his face in frustration, a ragged groan escaping him. “Fine, lead the way.”

Garias led him to one of the storage alcoves on the far side of the warehouse. Rugan practically collapsed onto one of the nearby chests while he watched Garias pace back and forth.

“Well, spit it out lad.”

“Right, so the thing is, the thing with the girl I mean. Right, the thing is, it wasn't Brem.”

“The girl from the ambush? How do you mean it wasn't Brem? Of course it was your brother, Bellar saw them together.”

“Well, yeah but Brem was already asleep by the time she started asking questions.”

“What do you mean, already asleep?” Rugan threw his head back and laughed as realization dawned on him. “By the Black Hand is there anything you idiots don't share?”

“Well you know people pay good money at Sharess-”

“I really need you to stop now, little cousin.”

“Right.”

Rugan sighed and put his head in his hands. “So you're saying I have to apologize to Brem now?”

“Well I mean, he'd probably appreciate it.”

“Stupid of him to take the fall for you but fine, I'll treat him to a pint tomorrow. Assuming of course I survive the rest of the night.”

“Rugan!” Came Zarys' shout from across the warehouse. “Now where has he gotten off to?”

“I'm here Zarys.” He approached the window, chest tight.

“Thought you'd run off on me.”

“Too old for that, knees would give out.”

“It's your lucky day then. Buyer's pleased with your creative problem solving. You, lanky and the boy each get a bonus.”

+++++

The trio had decided to celebrate their good fortune at the docks ward the next night. They dragged Brem along for good measure and in turn it had been Brem who recommended the Blackstaron inn.

“I fold.” Rugan placed his hand down on the table. The tavern was bustling with noisy patrons, and the smell of beer hung on the place like a hoppy cape.

“Ah c’mon Rugan.” Olly pleaded. “Lemme win back my coin.”

“No thank you, besides Brem is gonna clean us all out.”

“It can’t be helped that you lot are hopeless at cards.” Been chirped merrily.

Bellar put his hand down as well. “Yeah I'm done, don't aspire to losing all my coin to this tosser.”

“Fancy a pint at the bar?” Rugan asked Bellar with a nod of his head.

“Nah, I need a tall drink but not of that sort.” Rugan followed his gaze to a barmaid with a mischievous smile.

“Good luck to you mate.” He clapped Bellar on the back as he rose from his seat. “You too lad, just remember Brem squints when he has a good hand.”

“Oy don't tell him that!” Brem complained after Rugan as the man made his way to the bar.

Leaning on the counter he ordered an ale and turned to look down the worktop as he waited. There was a pair conversing on the opposite end, after a moment he realized he recognized one of them. She hadn’t seen him yet, chatting as she was with another man. No finery this time, she wore a simple blouse that cinched under her bust and her hair was tied back, but it was definitely the woman in green. The bartender slid over his drink and Rugan watched her over the lip of the glass as he downed it.

It was then that they locked eyes. He noted the surprise on her countenance that quickly turned to a smile. She gave a little wave and he couldn't help but grin and waggle his fingers back. Her conversation partner had also turned to see who she was greeting, his expression soured upon seeing Rugan. The zhent watched her turn and make some excuse to the man.

“Fancy meeting you here.” She was practically beaming as she approached.

“That's twice now you've abandoned your date for me, either you're very fond of me or extremely fickle.”

Her eyes sparkled with laughter as she reached out to run her fingers down his jaw. “What's not to like?”

“The feeling’s mutual, lass.” She smiled coyly at that.

“Do you have a name zhent?”

“Planning on screaming it for me later?”

“Presumptuous.”

“I'd also accept moaning.”

“You cocky bastard.” She was laughing already.

“Whining, even.”

“Tell me the damned name already!” Despite her raised voice, her cheeks were aching from smiling.

“Rugan.” He said at last. “And you? Erica was it?”

“No. That was just for the job.”

“Well, go on then.”

“Isolde.”

“Isolde? You are a bleeding noble after all.”

“I am not!”

“Name like that? Too posh for us common folk.”

“My parents were old-fashioned is all.”

“Ah, so it is your real name this time.”

“It is.”

“And why give me the real one?”

“Because I'll get jealous if I hear another name on your lips.”

“You're almost a worse flirt than me. Still too posh though.” He mused. “Can I give you a nickname?” Rugan turned to the bartender briefly, raising two fingers to indicate another round.

“You are a cad after all, aren’t you? Fine then, let's hear it.”

“Izzy, I think that suits a little minx like you.”

“Alright then. But I reserve the right to give you a nickname once I come up with one.”

“It's a deal.” And he made a show of shaking her hand to seal the contract, drawing another laugh. “Don't often give out the real one, do you?”

“No.” She admitted, looking a little embarrassed and he worried for a moment that he had pried.

“Too many pushy suitors is it?”

“Something like that.”

“Oh aye, I understand completely.” Rugan held up his hands in mock seriousness. “Folks are harassing me all the time. Never taking ‘no’ for an answer.” Her smile had returned and he felt himself relax.

“Poor thing, you must be beating them off with a stick.”

Rugan had a cheeky rebuttal to that, but luckily two drinks were slammed down in front of them before it could come tumbling out of his mouth.

He paid for the drinks, waving off her attempts to reach for her coin purse. “It's on me, got a nice little bonus thanks to you.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed, but let's chat somewhere a little more private. Shall we?” He directed her to an empty table at one of the various alcoves that lined one wall of the tavern.

Rugan noted with no small interest that Isolde scooted her chair right up to his as they sat down.

“My employer was very happy with those etchings of yours.” ‘Eventually’.

“Glad to hear it.”

“How about you? Make a nice profit on yours then?”

“Oh no, mine's not for sale. Personal project.”

“Personal project?” He asked incredulously. “Do you mean to frame it on your wall?”

“No,” She laughed. “I mean to translate it. I'm an archaeologist of sorts, I specialize in a few of the old tongues.”

“Should’ve figured you for an academic. What's a prestigious scholar such as yourself doing crashing parties and looting safes?”

“I’m not a proper scholar, at least not one anyone recognizes, no money for studies means no proper degree. But I have audited a few classes.”

“You did their taxes?”

“No!” Isolde couldn't help but laugh. She loved the way his pitch rose in confusion when he asked the question.

“It's just a fancy way of saying I sat in on lectures without paying. So most wouldn't recognize me as a proper student.”

“You're allowed to do that?”

She hesitated a moment. “Sometimes…”

“So you're an academic that lacks legitimacy, still doesn't explain why you're rooting through towers.”

“I told you, personal project. I don’t usually rob places where the inhabitants are still alive.”

“Usually?” He enjoyed teasing her, she was surprisingly candid.

“Hard to find legitimate work in a field largely funded by nobles if you can't get a recommendation from a professor.”

“So who are your regular clients?”

“Most often smaller religious groups and uh, occasionally tomb raiders.”

“Almost sounds dangerous when you put it like that, lass.”

“I have met some rough characters.” She eyed him meaningfully, lips pulled into a playful grin.

“Why do I get the feeling you like it that way?” To accentuate his point Rugan grabbed Isolde by the waist, easily pulling her into his waiting lap. She smiled at him, wrapping an arm around his neck before leaning in to press her lips against his throat, mouth searing hot like a brand.

Rugan groaned in response and leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “Maybe we should take this upstairs.”

“As much as I would like that,” Her fingertip tracing patterns on his chest. “I believe your friend is about to get into some trouble.” She tilted her head towards a table across the way where Bellar was heavily flirting with an older red-headed woman. The woman was smiling wide and leaned down to give Bellar a kiss. “He's one of yours isn't he? Recognize him from the party.”

“Bellar? He's not doing anything-”

“That’s the innkeeper's wife, love.” Right on cue the proprietor approached Bellar with four strapping lads at his side, his sons by the looks of it.

“By the Black Hand.” Rugan cursed as he deposited Isolde back in her seat and made for Bellar's table. He reached for his blade before remembering Zarys' warning.

“Fisticuffs it is then.”

+++++

The quartet had been beaten, handily.

“Out of here, the lot of you.” The innkeeper barked at the zhents, and when he saw Isolde standing to the side. “That goes for you as well, miss.”

The burly sons were busy shoving them out the front door, past the remaining frightened patrons and broken furniture.

“I've already paid for my room.” Isolde complained indignantly as she fished out her room key from her cloak pocket. “Are you going to reimburse me?”

“Consider it damages for your associates handiwork.” The man sneered.

“They're not my associates, I'm no mercenary!”

“Yeah but you're associated with them aren't ya? At least that one there. That makes you associates.”

“No more than your wife.” Isolde bit back. Rugan manoeuvered himself between her and the innkeeper just as the man stepped forward menacingly.

“Now now, there's no need for more violence.” The zhent held up a hand in a gesture of peace. “The lady will hand over her key.” Rugan half turned to her and extended his other hand at this. She made a petulant face and started to retort when Rugan's narrowing eyes made her think better of it.

“Fine.” She deposited the keys in his hand, still pouting. Rugan in turn, deftly tossed them to the innkeeper.

“There, now everyone’s happy.” The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile, yet the expression was somehow more threatening than anything else.

The innkeeper only grunted his assent before nodding to his sons. The family re-entered the inn, but were no doubt watching them from the windows.

“God's Izzy you're worse than this lot with that mouth of yours.” He sighed in exasperation.

“Man’s robbing me! Why should I be polite?” She huffed.

Behind her Brem and Bellar finally broke into the cackles they had been holding in. Olly only shrugged.

“Did’ya see his face though?” Bellar was grasping at his sides.

“Don't encourage her. And don't think I've forgotten we're in this mess because of you Bellar.”

“Not my fault, the wife said they had an arrangement.”

“And you took her word for it?” The incredulity in Rugan's tone was unmistakable.

“Says the man in a honey trap.” Bellar coughed back the last of his laughs.

Rugan shook his head ruefully. “Come on then, I saw another inn just down the road.” He turned to a still pouting Izzy. “Don't fret about the coin lass, you can stay with me as long as you like.” He held out his arm for her. “You were planning to spend the night with me anyways, weren't you?”

The pout melted from her face and she appraised him a moment before making a show of daintily taking his arm. “Well if you're going to be a gentleman.” She cooed while resting her head on his shoulder, knowing very well he was not.

“I'll be the very model of chivalry.” He could hear that Bellar and Brem had begun their cackling and hooting again. He shot them a smirk as he led the party down the docks.

#rugan #bg3 rugan #rugan bg3 #zhentarim #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #new tricks #bg3 fanfic: new tricks

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beck-a-leck · 1 year

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So I got prompted for an AU in a discord server for an event. And me, being Extremely predictable, bypassed all the other AUs for a (not SW) fandom and went straight to Star Wars.

I promptly sidled up to the car. Slapped the hood, and proudly told myself "I can fit so many AUs in this sandbox."

And it was just supposed to be a joke. But then I thought about it and started putting serious thought into it and now I am going to share because I want to.

For both WIP Wednesday, and Star Wars Wednesday, I present to you: The AU that entertains exactly one (1) person, me.

Rune Factory 4, but throw it in a Galaxy Far, Far Away.

Takes place during the Imperial era, for obvious Sechs Empire = Galactic Empire. They even both come with an evil Emperor. It basically writes itself

Earthmates = Jedi. Rare to the point of being mythological/urban legends. Super special and power (Space) wizards. Very few remain after the explicit (sw) or implied (rf) genocide of their kind enacted by the Empire

World building: each town is now a System, and the whole kingdom is now a Sector. Therefore, Town of Selphia in Kingdom of Norad becomes Selphia System in the Norad Sector.

Now for characters!

With so many more alien races to choose from I can go absolutely ham with everyone, and I really only have the vaguest ideas of who is what now in this AU.

I think the Guardians are all going to be Force Users of different kinds. They don't all have to be Jedi, but I want them all to be strong with the Force.

Ventuswill: similarly to canon, she is an ancient, god-like being who has watched over Selphia since time immemorial. Extremely strong with the Force, kind of on the scale of the Bendu. May or may not remain a dragon. Because space dragons!

Frey/Lest: former Jedi. Depending on when in the Imperial era the story happens they could either be a Jedi or padawan who survived Order 66, or an initiate who escaped the temple. Because they are an rf protagonist, they still get amnesia that wipes their memory completely blank, so even they forget who/what they were. But Venti does help them reconnect with the Force and realize they were a Jedi. And very suddenly they become Selphia's biggest secret. Which doesn't stay secret for long because Jadi cannot help what they are, and they must do good.

Oh my gosh I've just realized Frey can be a twi'lek, and her skin can be the same green color as her hair in game! She even gets to keep her signature look with the pigtails!

Arthur: hate to say it, but he's an Imperial. Being Norad royalty sent to take over Selphia in rf transfers easily to being an Imperial Governor. His father, Moff Lawrence, rules over the entire Norad Sector, and he sends Arthur to be governor of the Selphia System, because while it may be small and relatively unimportant, it is a good source of materials for various, nefarious Imerial means. However. Arthur, still being Arthur, shows up on his first day of governing and says "fuck this job" and deliberately tried to Not Do It. A sort of malicious compliance, because getting nothing done will draw scrutiny, but doing the absolute worst of the bare minimum means everybody just kind of ignores Selphia and him. Leaving Arthur free to practice his dark and dirty secret, which is spying for the Rebellion and skimming off what funds and resources he can to help fight the good fight.

Most of the town cast is still doing their in game roles with just environmental changes for the AU, so they could be aliens or have a different back story, and I won't hash them all out here (because I'm also not 100% settled on some details)

Doug: still a spy, sent by the Empire to keep an eye on Ventuswill, because even if she has spent the last 1000 years being Exceedingly neutral and minding the business of her planet and nothing else, the Empire is not just going to let an extremely powerful force being go unmonitered.

Leon: a Jedi from a long time ago. I still think there's going to be a need for the guardians to have sacrificed themselves to help Venti sustain herself over the centuries, so that whole plot line is still viable. Meaning Leon is a Jedi, but he is Extremely out of date compared to what the Jedi Order was before the genocide. And considering the Empire's pretty successful 'delete the jedi from cultural memory' campaign, and Leon being Leon, and Lest/Frey's amnesia, all sorts of chaos and fun times and trading can ensue while Leon helps Lest/Frey with their Jedi training.

I haven't figured out yet what I want the other guardians to be, force-user wise. But I do think Dylas is gonna be a dark-sider, he has the anger and passion and I think that vibes more with him than traditional Jedi teachings. Amber I think is too sweet and pure to be anything but light-side. Dolce I could go either way on, she needs more thought.

Someone needs to be a wookie, and I am torn between it being Volkanon, the most emotional and huggiest wookiee, who has dedicated his very long life to being Ventuswill's companion. Or Porcoline, who just keeps finding lost souls and adopting them. Much like one rescue stray kittens.

Maybe both. Both could be funny.

I'm still working on the rest of the townsfolk!

It would not be star wars without droids! And I think Lest/Frey get a companion droid, as a treat. Maybe an astromech, or someone small and travel-sized like a BD unit.

PLOT TIME!

Okay, it really doesn't differ much from the rune factory plot. Your protagonist is on the way to Selphia to make an important and secret delivery, Imperial sabotage, they crash land and get amnesia.

I'm thinking instead of rune crystals, they are bringing special kyber crystals to replace the guardians that Ventuswill was previously relying on to stay alive/in power (because there aren't enough forse sensitives left in the galaxy. And also, living sacrifices are not sustainable.)

The different dungeons each of the guardians are in are the ruins of former temples of their own Force Practices.

There's still a showdown against the Empire, but I don't think it's on the same scale as it was in the rf game. Probably just messing up some Grand Moff's shiny new battle station so he can't enforce his cruel will upon the sector.

But that's what I've got so far! I had a boring day at work and lots of time to think about things while I was avoiding tumblr to not see any Mando spoilers 😂

EDIT: I had more thoughts! Mostly about Leon being a Jedi.

Just thinking about Leon waking up after his long sleep and instinctually reaching out into the Force to feel the presence of other Jedi in the galaxy, only to find the post-order 66 aching void left there. He probably lived through or in the aftermath of one of the Sith wars, he knew Jedi could be few and far in-between, but he's never felt emptiness like this. He's never felt the dark side so strong.

On a brighter note. Leon training Frey/Lest. Leon, 1-2 thousand years out of date for Jedi teachings, and Frey/Lest with so much head trauma they can't remember anything. Y'all know that scene from TLJ, where Luke is teaching Rey on the rocks? That's Leon teaching them 😂

Leon: close your eyes. Reach out.

L/F: *puts their hand out*

Leon: 🙄🙄🙄 ... fine. *picks up some long grass* reach out with the Force. Feel the energy around you, binding everything together *tickles their hand with the grass*

L/F: gasp! I feel it!

Leon: you do? *wiggles grass faster* Wow you must be really strong with the Force! *whacks them with the grass*

L/F: wow really? Ouch! ☹️ *betrayed*

Leon: do it again, properly.

#becky writes things #star wars #rune factory 4 #rune factory #star wars is such a fun sandbox to play in and I never want to leave #damnit i wish i could draw. because I want to see everyone sw-ified right now 😭😂

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tay452 · 6 months

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Noddy Shop Review aka Recap

Welcome readers, you may remember Noddy right? The little wooden doll who likes to nod his head a lot and drive his little car around Toytown, well, did you know that he used to have a show about a shop with his name on it? That’s right, the Noddy Shop. I’m going to be reviewing every 66 episodes of it through and see if I like it or not.

Let’s began with the very first episode called, “The Magic Key”.

We start with the opening theme and it’s pretty catchy, if I have to be honest. We get to see most of the puppets but we don’t learn their names yet, I feel like this song is gonna be stuck in my head for a while isn’t it?…. yep.. yep it is.. 🎵Here at the Noddy Shop!🎵.

We see the puppets again but this time we hear an old man narrating, he introduces himself as Noah Tomten who is in charge of the Noddy Shop. So apparently the toys come alive on their own and we get to know some of the toys names, the turtle tank is Sherman while the toy clown is Rusty. The flamingo is Bonita who kinda reminds me of Carmen Miranda. Then there’s Johnny Crawfish who tells some REALLY bad jokes, he’s like Fozzie Bear execpt he’s a lobster puppet thing.

My favorite character from this series so far is the dog, I don’t know his name yet but I’m in love with him.

Look at how cute he is! He’s adorable! He’s just a smoll robot dog, still so cute!

Then we’re introduced to the kids, there’s Kate who explains what the noddy shop is to her new friend DJ. It’s actually Notions, Oddities, Doodas, Delights of Yesterday. Yikes, try and say that three times fast!

And of course, there’s always got to be a much younger kid, this is Truman, Kate’s younger brother. So apparently the toys only come alive when no one is looking, just like any living toy show or movie scenario. It turns out that Noah is Kate and Truman’s grandpa, kind of a twist there ain’t it?

Truman grabs the robot dog which is called Planet Pup and WHAT THE HELL HE’S ACTUALLY RESPONDING TO THE CHILD! Wait, so let me get this straight. The toys become inactive when people are around but they only come alive when Truman’s around??? Is Truman a wizard or something?!??

Anyway, everybody’s in Noah’s office and DJ wants Noah to show him the rest of the shop. But Noah has a deal of his own, he’ll show DJ the shop if he can tell him a story.. what kind of a deal is that? I mean why would you want everyone to tell you a story? You know what, I don’t even wanna know.

Dj and Kate are exploring a storage room and finds a box with a lock in it, oh gee, I wonder what’s in there :| Kate finds a key and, how long has that been here? What is Noah stashing in that box? He probably has some pictures in there of when he was young or something.

Oh.. they’re not pictures… So Noah has a habit of collecting weird dolls?…. Okay?.. The reason why these dolls look so weird is because they’re goblin dolls, I swear they look like those little mini dolls I use to collect. Does that make me Noah?.. Oh god..

DJ still has to make up a story for Noah, so they leave the storage room. But before they leave, Kate puts the dolls down on the floor instead of putting them back in the box. And why would she do this? Does she really think that putting them on the floor was a good idea? I mean, it’s fine. It’s not like those goblin dolls are gonna go anywhere right?

………………. Perhaps I spoke too soon…

We get this catchy number called “The Day The Goblins Got Away”. The toys are freaking out over the goblins being loose in the store, but they do not see them being chased by Planet Pup? Not gonna lie this actually looks pretty terrifying.

Like picture this, a family is just starting to know their way around their unrecognized surroundings and they immediately get chased down by a gigantic robot dog, the dad even gets dragged away by Truman while the mom and the son stayed hiding in a mouse hole while literally reaching their arms out for him.

Dear GOD.

The goblins eventually made their way to an old abandoned doll house which they immediately move into.

They’re literally trashing their house the moment they got there.

We’re introduced to Agatha, who is Noah’s younger sister. She works at a hat shop selling, well.. hats! It turns her store is literally right next to the Noddy Shop, so she can come visit the kids anytime! But if you going to be visiting the shop every day, then who’s going to be watching your shop?

The mom goblin and dad goblin are on the prowl for pranks and they found their first victim, Agatha.

They dumped a whole bottle of glue on Agatha’s hat and well, we all know how this is gonna turn out. Also, how did they make the glue bottle look so huge? That’s pretty cool.

Agatha puts on her hat and she immediately cannot take it off, she tells the kids that she’s going to the ocean to wash the glue off. Again, if you’re gone, then who’s watching your shop?

Kate and DJ yet discovers another box, maybe this one has elf dolls in it, and they might be the complete opposite of the goblins. Like instead of playing tricks, they help people.

Damn it! I was wrong, well, I was kinda right. It was a box full of Noddy dolls including Big Ears who IS an elf.

Kate then tells a Noddy story where Noddy’s car bumper becomes loose and Mr. Sparks can’t fix it because he can’t find his tool box. How did you even loose a tool box? Did you forget to pick up your tool box as you started walking back to your workshop or something?

Meanwhile, the rest of the toys are heading out to the seaside to cool down, Clockwork Mouse is jumping around and literally cannot stop.

He looks like he’s been doing some drugs, it can’t be me right?

Anyway, Clockwork Mouse reveals that he’s got a new key from the goblins, so does the goblin family exist in the Noddy world or..? Turns out this key is magical, which explains why he’s been jumps lately and- W A I T

THATS THE SAME KEY! WHAT?!??

Noddy and Big Ears are having a picnic, and surprise, surprise, they found Mr. Spark’s tool box. How did that even get there?

I just learned that this magic key can literally open any box, as long as it has a lock on it then your good.

We cut back to Kate, DJ and oh yeah, Truman’s here in case you didn’t know.

Noah returns, saying that he has found the cellar for his machine thing and DJ finally has the courage to tell the rest of the Noddy story.

Noddy and Big Ears gives Mr. Sparks his tool box back (He probably lost it on purpose). Noddy turns his car on with the magic key and O H M Y G O D ITS GOING TURBO SPEED

SPEED DEMON

They crashed into a tree and finds Clockwork Mouse’s old key who has been stolen by the goblins, probably the mom and the dad.

The toys come back from the beach and Noddy declares that everyone will have lunch at his place, what a nice guy.

Noah liked the story and finally shows the kids around the shop, we get this cool banger called “A What If World” God, this is gonna be stuck in my head even more then that theme song!

We get back to the goblins and, OH! The boy goblin talks in English! So the parents speak gibberish while their son speaks coherent English, that’s certainly interesting.

Agatha’s back and her hat is ripped from the glue, shouldn’t she go to a hospital or something cause the glue was in her hair also.

Everyone decides to go on a picnic just like in the story and that’s when the episode ends.

Overall Ratings:

Episode: 7/10

It was a little interesting, we got to see everyone, well, except for that weasel puppet who appeared in the theme song? Where was he? Did he not exist yet? The characters were great, especially the puppets and my favorite Planet Pup. Also, I noticed that the goblins were technically using a green screen background since you don’t really see any green on them. The songs were great and so was the story, not too bad for a pilot episode let me just say that.

Message: 4/10

I mean there wasn’t really a message here, except that you don’t know what you can do unless you try. This example goes to Dj who believes that he’s not good at making stories but almost at the end of the episode, he’s able to tell a great Noddy story.

Songs: 9/10

The songs were really catchy, some of them even made me bop my head with beat especially "The Day The Goblins Got Away".

Thank you for reading this, hope to see you all in the next episode of The Noddy Shop.

#noddy #Noddy Shop #review #recap

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Anakin, Shmi, and the Jedi Babies

(Plus Jango)

A scene from the Anakin and the Jedi Babies

Warnings for: canon-typical discussion of slavery.

Shmi is eleven years old when the stranger comes.

He’s tall, and covered in the kind of dark clothes that are hell in the desert. He’s got some armor, too, but not as much as the Mandalorians she sees walking around sometimes. His expression is mean, even though he’s smiling, and she thinks the trader is scared of him.

He’s buying her.

“Now I just need a name for the ownership paperwork,” the trader says. She thinks he’s sweating.

“The sale is already completed, yes?” the stranger says. He tilts his head and purses his lips, still smirking. “No sudden fees coming my way?”

“Of course not, honored customer,” the trader simpers.

“Anakin Skywalker.”

Shmi’s heart stops. That’s her family name.

The trader gets a little paler, as he realizes why this man is here. Shmi watches the calculations fly, wondering if he can maybe squeeze out a few extra wupiupi on this sale. Former slaves freeing family, even family they don’t know, always fetches the highest price.

The stranger—Anakin—leans across the counter and looms over the trader, smiling in the most threatening way Shmi’s ever seen. “No sudden fees, right?”

“Well, there will be the code transfer f—”

“I’m the most dangerous person in this city,” the man says, smile dropping away like flies from a bantha. “Don’t make me prove it, friend.”

The sale is secured, the codes handed over, the detonator passing hands.

Shmi falls into step next to Anakin, hurrying to keep up with his longer strides. He takes her a few blocks away without a word, and then into a shallow spot in an alleyway, right where foot traffic won’t be a bother.

“Hey,” he says, dropping to one knee and placing himself where, even when she sets her gaze low, he’ll be there. He smiles at her, hesitant but far, far kinder than what she saw in the shop. “Do you want me to deactivate your chip now, or once we’re on my ship? I can’t remove it until we’re out of here; I’m no surgeon.”

“…now, please,” she whispers, and watches him punch in the numbers and codes to neutralize the bomb she’s carried inside herself since she was three. It’s done in less than two minutes.

“Do you want me to break this?” he asks, voice soft.

She nods, and watches in fascination as he crushes it in his fist with seemingly no effort.

He smiles at her, tosses the shards into the nearest compactor, and then offers her the hand that isn’t in a glove. She takes it, like she used to take her mom’s before they were separated, and follows him through Mos Pelgo. He’s family. He’s cleanly, clearly freed her. She should be able to trust him.

“Where are we going?” she manages to work up the courage to ask.

His stride stutters a bit, his hand squeezing hers, but his voice is even when he speaks. “Well, I would like you to stay with me, but if you have… have any family to return to, that you know how to find…”

“I don’t know where my mom is,” she says. “She got sold when I was four.”

He squeezes her hand again, and she dares to look at his face. His eyes are squinted, angry, and focused on the horizon. She’d call it stormy, if she’d ever been to a planet of water, but she was a child of the desert. She could feel his anger, and it wasn’t hot and sharp and blinding enough to be a storm of sand.

(She felt that it could be, in the intuition that had kept her alive these past years.)

“I see,” he says. “I’m… okay, then. I’d try to find her if I could, but I don’t know how to do that.”

Shmi shrugs. “She was sent to Jabba’s. I don’t think she’s… um. She’s probably dead, now.”

He’s silent in response to that.

“How did you find me?” she asks, because her intuition says to trust this man to keep her alive, even if she thinks she may not trust his temper.

He thinks about that for a second, and then lets go of her hand for a moment to brush aside a layer of his tunic.

A lightsaber.

Her eyes dart up to his, wide and maybe a little awed. He grins, a little more carefree than before.

“Jeedai?”

“A full Jedi knight, believe it or not,” he confirms. “The Force led me to find you. I don’t think I’d have been able to do locate you without it.”

“Wizard,” she whispers, and then he pulls her into his side and out of the way of a large, too-fast-for-these-streets speeder.

He swears under his breath in a language she doesn’t recognize.

“So, I’m going with you,” she says. “Um, where… where do Jedi live?”

“The Temple is on Coruscant,” he tells her. “But I’ve got business in Mandalorian space, so that’s where I’m based out of right now.”

“Okay,” she says. Mandalore… maybe that’s why he’s got armor like one of them. “I… I heard that Jedi are all called Master, so—”

“No,” Anakin snaps, turning around and getting to one knee in front of her again, hands on both her shoulders, stopping her in a fraction of a second with a look so intense that it scares her. “No, you are never to call me that. You are never going to bow your head to a master again, okay? You are free, and you are family.”

She stares at him for a long second, and then nods. She thinks her head jerks a bit too sharply, but he’s scary. He cares so much that it frightens her. He must be able to tell, because he closes his eyes and visibly forces himself to calm down.

“I was freed when I was nine,” he tells her. “By a Jedi Master. And I know… I know how uncomfortable it is to live like that, where the word means something different to you than it does to everyone else. I became a Jedi, so I learned to make it mean what it was supposed to, respect for teachers and—and elders. But you, you’re not a Jedi, you’re just a girl, and you matter, and—don’t make yourself say it. Please.”

“Okay,” she says. “Do I just… do I just call you Anakin, then?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” he says, and his hands twitch on her shoulders. She thinks he wants to pull her into a hug, but is forcing himself to stop. “Or Ani, if you want, my—my mom used to call me that. Seems like something to keep for family.”

“Okay,” she says again. She can do that.

“Or, um,” he hesitates, and then barrels on. “We’ll be in Mandalore. They say ori’vod to mean older sibling. So, er, you can call me that. If you want. You don’t have to.”

She’ll have to practice. It looks like it means a lot to him. “I’ll think about it.”

“Great,” he says, and dithers for a moment before he stands up and turns around, black robes flaring. “Come on, let’s get out of the sun.”

He leads her to just outside the city limits, where there’s a small ship waiting, enough for a half-dozen people on longer trips, maybe. She doesn’t know much about ships, but this one’s covered in scratches and pits, like it’s been in fights and come out the other side.

They open the door, and are met with wailing.

Anakin rushes past her, shouting, “Ben!”

Shmi doesn’t follow immediately, but he’s been pretty insistent that she’s family, not property. She’s allowed inside.

She finds Anakin in the main room, holding a baby and bouncing it in his arms as he hisses a demand to a boy only a few years older than Shmi herself.

“—my kids, Jango!”

“I’m here to babysit the ship, not the baby!” the teenager argues back.

Anakin scoffs and turns his attention to the baby in his arms. Shmi isn’t entirely sure, but she thinks the baby is definitely less than a year old. It quiets in his arms, tiny hands fisting in the fabric she knows is still too hot from the sun outside.

“Shmi, you can sit down,” he tells her, distracted. “I’d love to talk more but I think I need to make a bottle for Ben. I’ll be back in a few.”

She looks around, sees a bench, and sits down. She presses her hands together in her lap, keeps her eyes on the japor charm her mother left with her years ago, hanging around her wrist. She can wait. She’s patient. She’ll figure out how freedom works eventually.

“Mmmmmmbook!”

Shmi jolts in her seat as a very small body collides with her leg, blue and white and giggling. The head of that small body turns up to stare at her with massive eyes, and she sees the child’s face is orange. Togruta, she thinks, and very young.

The little one pushes a flimsi book onto Shmi’s lap and pats at it, grinning up at Shmi with tiny, pearly teeth.

“Ad’ika, she just got here,” the-teenager-that-is-probably-named-Jango sighs, dropping into the seat next to Shmi. “Let her rest.”

“Sto-wee!” the baby Togruta insists, patting at Shmi’s leg. The little one tries to climb up onto the bench, and Shmi reaches out to help after she realizes the toddler is about to slip. She receives, in thanks, a delighted grin and a montral to the ribs as the child hugs her.

“’m Soka!” the little one introduces.

“She’s one of Skywalker’s,” probably-Jango says. “He showed up with those two a few months ago in the middle of a chaak’la snowstorm.”

“No!” Soka insists, slapping her little hand on the book a few times. “No ‘ssip! Book!”

Jango lets his head fall against the metal wall behind them. “Fine. No gossip.”

Shmi looks at the little girl, and then back at the book. She’s… well, she can read. Mostly. She can read better than most slaves her age, but this is Basic, not Huttese.

She cracks it open to the first page, finds herself relieved that it really is a children’s story with small words and big letters, and starts reading it out loud. She goes slow. The story is about an eopie trying to find its way home after getting lost, asking other farm animals for help. There are plenty of pictures, and sometimes Soka pats at the book and shouts the name of an animal. It’s very cute, overall.

About two-thirds of the way through, she stumbles. It’s a word she hasn’t seen before, long and with repeating letters that she can’t quite figure out how to say. She pauses, long enough that she’s sure little Soka is confused about why she’s stopped.

“Happabore,” Jango mutters.

Shmi lifts her head, but he’s not looking at her. She looks down at the book again, mouths the letters to herself, and thinks that yes, that probably fits. She keeps reading aloud, letting little Soka tell her about her favorite animals, and when she finishes and looks up, it’s to find Anakin standing across from them.

He’s leaning against a doorframe, bottle-feeding the baby named Ben, and watching them with an expression Shmi thinks might be ‘wistful.’

“Skyguy!” Little Soka cheers, sliding off the bench so she can toddle over to the man as fast as her little legs can carry her. “Skyguy, gots a fweind!”

He smiles indulgently and lets her hug his leg. “I can see that, Snips. You guys have fun?”

“Uh-huh!” the little one tells him. She raises her hands at him. “Up!”

“Sorry, hun, no can do,” Anakin apologizes. “I’m feeding Ben, and I need both hands for that.”

She pouts, and he jerks his chin at Shmi and Jango. “Go back to the bench and you can help me feed him, okay?”

Soka races back.

“Fett, go get the ship powered up,” Anakin says as he ambles over, voice the kind of casually commanding that gives Shmi goosebumps. It’s not familiar, not the way an owner is, but it’s… it’s a voice that’s very used to having authority. “I want us out of here as soon as possible.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“I am the commanding officer according to Jaster,” Anakin says, and Shmi watches him raise an eyebrow. “I know it’s not much of a mission, but I am in charge until we’re back on Concord Dawn. You want me to tell him you’re playing at insubordination?”

Jango makes a face, sticking out his tongue. Anakin waits.

Jango goes to start the ship.

“Teenagers,” Anakin mutters, shaking his head. “I want to say I was never that bad, but I’d be lying.”

Soka giggles, bouncing in her seat as Anakin carefully lowers himself down next to her. “Okay, okay, settle down. He’s cranky, kiddo.”

“Wanna help,” Soka stresses, reaching for the bottle. Anakin shifts away from her, keeping it out of her reach. “Skyguy!”

“Slow down, Snips,” he chides. “Climb on my lap and we can hold him together, okay?”

Shmi fiddles with her japor snippet, but she can’t help her fascination with the dynamic presented. Anakin obviously isn’t related to Soka by blood, but he’s adopted her as his own. They haven’t said as much, but it’s obvious. He can’t stop smiling as he talks the girl through holding the bottle for her baby brother, even though it’s obvious from the outside that he’s the one actually holding it, and her, and the baby.

The ship hums to life around them. Anakin tilts his head, as if listening to something, and then goes back to the baby.

It’s another minute before Anakin says, “Okay, that’s enough. I need to burp him. Go on, scoot.”

Soka grimaces as well as a two-year-old can, and slides off of Anakin’s lap onto the bench. He stands and presses the baby up to his shoulder, patting it on the back. There’s a towel there already, something Shmi hadn’t noticed earlier.

“I’m going to go check on Jango,” he tells them. “Shmi, can you get Soka in her seat? I’ll tell you how to buckle her in, but I promised Jango he could fly us back and I want to sit up there to make sure he gets us into hyperspace without, say, exploding.”

It’s only a minute or two to get both of them sat down and buckled in, and Soka spends the entire time until lift-off telling Shmi about how much she likes eopies. This continues well until they end up in hyperspace, the jolt of it making the little one squeal in excitement, even if Shmi feels her stomach drop out. Shortly after, the boys wander back in.

“We’re good for a couple hours,” Anakin says. “Nav computer’s got it until we jump back out. Anyone want a snack?”

“Me!” Soka screeches, bouncing in her seat. “Jan-Jan, snacktime!”

Anakin’s eyebrows climb up towards his hairline. “Well, seems like you’ve got a fan, Fett.”

“Shut up,” Jango grumbles, but he does go over and pick Soka out of her child seat, setting her on his hip and going in the direction of what Shmi assumes is the galley.

“You doin’ okay?” Anakin asks, carefully taking the seat next to her. He sits Ben up on his lap, but the baby has trouble staying in that position. Anakin takes his hands, letting tiny fists curl around his thumbs, to help him stay up.

“It’s a lot,” she says. “But I am happy to be free.”

He grins at her. “Glad to hear it. It’s a lot to adjust to, I know, but… I’m happy to have you with us.”

She nods, eyes on the baby that’s swaying from side to side as Anakin moves his hands, like a very, very small speeder pilot.

“Is he, um, yours?” Shmi asks. “Or did you adopt, like Soka?”

Anakin’s smile, so full of love, drops off. He presses his lips into a thin line, and for a moment, Shmi wonders if she’s made a horrible misstep.

“What… what do you know about Jedi relationships?” Anakin asks, voice quiet.

“Nothing,” she admits, but she’s not ashamed of that. Nobody knows much about the Jedi.

“Okay,” he says, more to himself than to her. “Okay, so… okay. There are a couple ranks in the Order. Younglings go in the crèche, communally raised in groups, and then when they’re five or so, they get to become Initiates. A few years later, usually between ten and fourteen, they can enter an apprenticeship to a Jedi Knight or Master, and the apprentice rank is Padawan. When the apprenticeship is done, they become Knights, basically journeymen, and at some point after that, Masters. There are positions that technically rank higher, councils and heads of divisions, and there’s stuff outside the apprenticeship system, like the service corps, but that’s not super relevant. It’s complicated but we’re only focusing on the apprenticeship path for knights.”

He hesitates, and then continues. “One of the ways to become a Master in the Order is to successfully raise a Padawan to knighthood. I was never an Initiate, because I came to the Order so much later than most. I immediately became a Padawan, and my master was freshly knighted. The relationship between master and padawan is… it’s family. Some of the more orthodox of the Order don’t like to put it in those words, but it really is.

“If I ever talk about my Master, just know I’m not talking about any of the owners I had before I was freed. I’m talking about the man who raised me, the man I saw as a father. He may not have seen me as a son, more a brother, but he was only sixteen years older than me, and… anyway. Jedi lineages are family. Your Master is a parent, or an older sibling, and your Padawan is a child to bring up as your own,” he finishes this off with the kind of deep, heavy breath that she thinks precedes grief. She can’t tell.

“My master is… well, he’s not in a position to teach anyone anything anymore. Ben here is all I have left of him.”

Oh.

Anakin doesn’t look at her, just stares down at the baby that’s gotten cranky again, and rearranges Ben to lie sideways in his arms. He smiles down as the baby burbles up at him, and tickles at the baby’s stomach. Ben grabs at Anakin’s fingers and kicks at the air, laughing in the manner of all children that small.

The man hums, and Shmi is more shocked than she should be to hear one of the lullabies she’s heard in slave quarters all her life.

“He’s your son now,” she says, more firmly than she feels. “He is yours to raise and care for, and I can tell you love him as much as any parent.”

Anakin lifts his head, staring at her like he can’t quite believe she’s there, and tears collect at the edges of his eyes.

“Thank you, Shmi Skywalker,” he says, and she feels like there’s more weight in those words than there should be. He licks his lips, eyes darting away for a second, and then asks, “do you want to hold him?”

She steels herself, and nods.

This is her family now.

Hers.

#Shmi Skywalker #Anakin Skywalker #Obi Wan Kenobi #Ahsoka Tano #Jango Fett #star wars #time travel #de aging #parenting #childcare #baby characters #phoenix posts #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #outside pov

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eloves-writes · 3 years

Text

a failed attempt to hate you

(tristan dugray)

a/n: i can only apologise if this writing is terrible, i wrote most of this in the middle of the night hopped up on medication for my disgusting cold. i hope it makes sense. anywho thanks for reading, enjoy, mwah <3

screw mr medina for making you help tristan study. you knew he knew from rory your inherent disdain for him, and it wasn’t your fault he was falling behind therefore not your responsibility to help him (as you had told mr medina last tuesday, with no effect). it was now sunday morning and you held little hope he would actually show up this time; he had somehow managed to cancel on your little study date 6 times already and it had only been 5 days since you were handed this apparently mammoth task. honestly, you didn’t expect him to show up at all, especially not anytime before noon- for which reasons you had made the decision put on your usual lazy sunday morning reading in bed get-up, which included (but was not limited to) an oversized rock concert shirt rory’s friend lane had given you in an attempt to clear her closet of non-christian attire, nothing but underwear underneath since you wouldn’t plan on leaving the comfort of your bedsheets for many hours, and a loose silk scrunchie you accidentally stole from rory keeping your hair out of your eyes.

your book of choice today was ‘harry potter and the goblet of fire’ , the most recently released chapter of the boy wizard’s adventures at hogwarts. the clock beside you read 9:15 as you comfied yourself for a morning of magic and adventure, which naturally was ended a mere 8 minutes later at 9:23 when the doorbell rang downstairs. you assumed your mother would answer it, but when it rang a second time you remembered your parents had both gone out to watch your sibling’s soccer match and you’d have to get it yourself.

it didn’t even cross your mind to put pants on, or that it may not be the postman at the door, until you opened it to see your very favourite chilton student whose eyes had hastily wandered to your bare legs. typical high school boy, you thought to yourself before your brain actually grasped the situation and kick started into action.

‘tristan. hi.’ you said with a slight shock in your voice.

‘erm, hi. i hope i’m not interrupting anything,’ he smirked, glancing down at your thighs again.

you rolled your eyes so aggressively you hoped mr medina could hear it from wherever he was spending his day, irritating boy-less and free to do whatever he wanted with his time.

‘you’re not,’ you quipped. ‘i just didn’t expect you to actually show up this time. and early may i add, i’m sure we said 11.’

‘we did, but i’ve got plans later so i thought i’d come by earlier and get this over with.’

‘how did you know i didn’t have plans? i might have been busy before 11.’

he pulled a face of amusement and you could swear you saw a hint of sarcasm shining through his eyes too. ‘right. are you done talking now or can i come in?’

‘you can come in, i guess,’ you sighed, closing the door behind him and showing him to the kitchen table. ‘wait here, i’ll go and get my books.’

‘grab some pants whilst you’re at it.’

‘stop talking,’ you called as you walked upstairs.

you came back downstairs a few minutes later fully-clothed and carrying your english notes to see that tristan had wandered from the chair you specifically remembered telling him to sit in, and was instead tracing a finger along the bookcase that stretched across the far wall of your living room. for a moment you just watched him nosey into your life; the framed certificates, the family photos, the 5 tapes of ‘beauty and the beast’ stacked atop of each other because it was your favourite film when you were 9 and practically every living relative had bought you a copy. beside those was a picture of you dressed as princess belle at disneyworld with chocolate ice cream smeared from cheek to cheek, a huge smile plastered between. tristan picked it up and turned to face you.

‘thoroughly adorable. seriously, you should go for this look more often.’

‘ha ha,’ you grimaced, snatching it off him and placing it back on the shelf. ‘are we studying or reminiscing on my past fashion choices?’

‘oo, someone’s in a good mood this morning huh,’ he teased. you pulled another face, once again silently cursing mr medina for completely ruining not just your day, but in fact your whole week. by god this boy got more irritating the more time you spent with him- it had only been 10 minutes, but it was 10 minutes longer than you ever previously had or ever wanted to.

‘can i get a drink before we start?’ he asked, redirecting the conversation and walking past you back into the kitchen. he began opening various cupboards, searching for a glass. ‘where’s the-’

‘why yes, tristan. you can have a drink,’ you snarked, opening the cupboard behind him with a dramatic flourish. he raised his eyebrows at you and reached forward to grab a glass, leaning over you as he did so. you caught a whiff of his cologne and almost forgot to dislike him for a moment.

‘there’s, um, soda in the ... fridge,’ you told him, voice unwillingly faltering as he looked down to meet your eyes. he had pretty eyes. pretty, blue, sparkling, stupid, annoying, asshole eyes.

you found the thick tension sickening. you refused to be another girl at school who simply swooned over him when he walked past your locker. you didn't like him. you were here to teach him english. because he was dumb. and actually, his eyes weren’t that nice.

he grabbed a soda out of the fridge and you both sat down at the table and began reading through your analysis of ‘to kill a mockingbird’, adamantly pretending not to see him staring at you the whole time.

why? he had had every popular and pretty girl in the whole of chilton, how was he ever so starved of female attention that he would look at you so admirably when you liked to make it clear you despised him? in fact, you enjoyed making a special effort to flip him off, or pull a face at him when he walked by, or kick his chair extra hard in spanish, or... oh shit. you had seen it from an outside point of view now, and it was glaringly obvious; maybe you did like him, just a little bit. shit. rory owed lorelai 10$ and a cheeseburger from luke’s, though you didn’t want to have to admit she was right when she’d said you were like a kindergarten boy pulling a girl’s ponytails because he thought she was pretty.

‘hey tristan,’ you started, breaking the comfortable silence between his questions and suddenly nervous to talk to him. stupid, it was still the exact same boy you’d been complaining about all week, nothing new.

he looked up from your notes. ‘what’s up princess?’

that was definitely new.

‘don’t call me princess’ -he smirked irritatingly- ‘do you need to stay much longer? i mean, is there anything else you want help with?’

‘trying to get rid of me?’

‘no! no. i just thought that you’d only stay and pretend to listen to me for like, half an hour then vanish. it’s 11:30 and you’ve been through my whole binder.’

‘it is? time flies.’

‘tristan.’

‘i do care about my grades, you know. and you’re a good teacher, i might have a chance at an A.’

‘why didn't you show up the last 6 times we planned then?’

he put down his pen- your pen, actually. it had pink sparkles on the lid. ‘got to keep up my street cred.’

‘ha ha. funny,’ you replied as blankly as possible, pulling back a smile you could feel in your stomach. you made eye contact again and, like every other time since you’d sat down and started studying, you held each other’s gaze for longer than necessary. funny how realising you like someone makes you suddenly act like it.

‘i should get going then right,’ he said, picking his jacket from the back of his chair.

you felt weird, almost as if you didn't want him to leave after praying earlier he wouldn't show up. alas, your parents would be home soon and you would be willing to bet money that tristan would have some interesting jokes about your being home alone that would not slide with your dad.

‘yeah. i hope you get that A,’ you said, accidentally smiling as you walked him to the door.

tristan turned to lean on the frame of the now-open door and put on a face of mock surprise. ‘my, my, y/n. was that a kind comment and a smile? you’re spoiling me.’

‘shut up, i hope you fail.’

he smiled back. ‘you really mean that?’

‘i guess not.’

there was yet another beat of heavy silence.

‘see you monday.’

you closed the front door as he walked down the drive, but noticed tristan’s car keys still sat on the kitchen table. a porsche, of course. you picked them up and reopened the door to his fist poised to knock. the two of you laughed awkwardly for a second.

‘i forgot my-’

‘you forgot your-’

another awkward laugh. jesus christ this was uncomfortable. you passed him the keys, and with absolutely no warning at all, your lips were suddenly met with his. they were soft and confident, and his free hand held your face as you tried to process the new situation. you quickly melted into the kiss, letting him take control until he pulled away and smiled that sparkly smile you didn't hate as much as you tried to.

‘didn't see that one coming,’ you said breathily, brushing some loose hairs off of your face.

‘i knew you didn’t hate me.’

‘ever the arrogant twat.’

‘hey, does this mean you’ll stop kicking my chair in spanish?’

‘absolutely not. in fact, i think i’ll kick it harder.’

‘as long as you let me do that again.’

tags: @leossmoonn for inspiring me to start writing again, @account123445 & @lmaoidekanymore6 for asking me to post tristan fics! (couldn’t figure out how to make the tags work but if you read this, you know ✨)

#tristan dugray #tristan gilmore girls #chad michael murray #gilmore girls #gilmore girls fic #gilmore girls fanfiction #can't think of anymore tags so i'll just hope this does ok on its own

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freddie-weaselbee · 3 years

Text

Real//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, I think that’s it ?

Summary: One small favor. A trade. That was all it was. Mutually beneficial! Until things between Fred and Y/N and their new relationship get a little more complicated and cause too many prying eyes.

Prompts: Fake Dating with dialogue prompts “we could have prevented this!” and “did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: Day 3 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge

“I’ve made my list of rules which you will abide by and under no circumstances will be broken. Number 1: this ruse does not leave the shop. I don’t want random people on the street questioning me because you couldn’t keep your huge mouth shut. Number 2: I will allow you to kiss me on the cheek and forehead as often as you like, within reason of course, and you can give me a peck on the lips 3 times in total. I will keep track. And Number 3: Don’t take up the entire bed any more or I will be forced to push you onto the floor. Sound good?”

“Bloody hell, you are crazy aren’t you?”

“Just a little bit.”

Fred was starting to regret his previous decision of making this arrangement with you, but a jingle of his shop bell and glance at who was walking in quickly made those feelings disappear.

“Deal,” he said, eyes not leaving the woman who had just entered. “But we start right now and I want one of those kisses.”

You looked up at your friend, confused at his sudden nerves before you followed his line of sight and understood immediately. You sighed and ruffled your hair a bit, looking for a mirror to fix your makeup. “I’m on it, give me a few minutes.”

Fred nodded, still watching his target walk slowly through the aisles of his store. As she turned a corner you ducked into the back office, waiting for a good time to reemerge.

“Freddie!” A high pitched voice pierced through the ear, equal parts flirtatious and absolutely unbearable. Fred glanced up, pretending not to have noticed the girl before. Putting on a fake smile, he set down the product he was pretending to tinker with and placed his hands on the counter table.

“Brooklyn, hi! How are you?” he asked, hoping his fake politeness would pass as genuine.

“Ugh I am so good. So SO good actually,” she said, twisting a finger through her hair. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you! I’m so glad you received my letter, I was hoping we could catch up, maybe over dinner sometime? I’ve had so many fine young men ask me out over the last few months, but none of them seemed to compare to you, my little Freddie Bear.”

He winced at the nickname, it bringing an onslaught of unwanted memories that he had desperately tried to forget. Brooklyn bit her lip and placed a hand on top of Fred’s, leaning in to accentuate her breasts and make sure Fred got a good whiff of her new perfume.

Very calmly, Fred placed his other hand on top of hers, now sandwiched in between his strong grip. “Brooklyn,” he said, faking sympathy, “you’re a lovely girl, and I’m sure any guy would be lucky to have you, but--”

“Hey, love!”

A voice interrupted Fred’s rejection, making a very surprised Brooklyn become absolutely enraged as she witnessed you come up and place a chaste kiss on Fred’s lips, smiling into him. Fred pulled his hands from Brooklyn’s grip and placed it instead on your hip, pulling you into him and placing another peck on your forehead. You both stared lovingly into each other’s eyes before a harsh cough stole your attention.

“And who is this?” Brooklyn asked, arms crossed angrily. She was glaring daggers at you, not even trying to fake sweetness for Fred’s sake.

Keeping his hand on your waist, Fred turned back to the girl who seemed as though she was about to explode. “That’s what I was trying to tell you Brooklyn,” he said, trying to keep his smile as pitiful as he could without it drawing suspicion. “This is Y/N, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”

You nuzzled into Fred’s chest for half a second before reaching a hand out to Brooklyn. “It’s so nice to meet you! Brooklyn, was it? I don’t think Fred’s ever mentioned you before, are you one of his childhood friends. Cousin, maybe?”

That had done it and you and Fred both knew it. He subtly fist bumped you under the counter as you watched the girl’s face become redder than Fred’s hair.

She opened her mouth before taking a huge breath and stepping back. “No, actually,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m his ex-girlfriend. I left him to move on to much better things. Speaking of which--” she flipped her hair and smoothed out her skirt, straightening her posture to try to keep what little dignity she had left, “--I actually have a date. With a dragon trainer no less, and a very renowned one.”

“Oh really?” Fred asked. “That’s amazing. My brother, Charlie, is a dragon trainer as well, and he’s very well known in the community. May I ask the name of the lucky young man? Maybe Charlie knows him.”

Caught very off guard, Brooklyn rolled her eyes and turned to face the door. “That’s none of your business. I better be going, before we’re late to dinner at a very nice place, somewhere the likes of you most likely couldn’t afford.”

You felt Fred stiffen next to you and you squeezed his hand gently. “Have a nice time! It was lovely to meet you Bridget.”

“It’s Brooklyn,” she seethed.

“Oh right, silly me,” you said, shaking your head. “Bye!”

As Brooklyn sauntered out of the store, you turned to Fred and whispered seductively, just loud enough for the exiting girl to hear. “How about we have a nice night in tonight? I got something the other day that I’d love for you to see. Maybe after seeing it you’ll make me scream even louder than last night.” Fred’s face began to grow red and he had to discreetly adjust his pants, hoping you didn’t notice exactly what your words were doing to him.

Brooklyn slammed the door and practically ran down the cobbled streets, only screaming when she thought she was far enough away to not be heard. You and Fred both waited a few seconds before cheering and hugging each other, him patting you on the back for a great performance.

“Y/N! That was incredible! I knew I could count on you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you said, “I’m amazing, I know.” You smiled up at him completing the high five he was waiting on. “When you told me you needed help with a crazy ex I didn’t know you meant like actually crazy. She’s insane! How did you put up with her for so long?”

Fred shrugged, jumping up onto the counter. “She was hot and I was horny. Not much else to it.”

You rolled your eyes, jumping up to join him. A few days ago you wouldn’t have been nearly comfortable enough to lounge out on the shop’s counters like you were now, but that was before you were a permanent resident of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Before you and Fred had made the deal.

“You want me to do what?”

“Please, Y/N, it would only be for a little while until this all dies down, I swear!”

You groaned and rubbed your temple, wondering how in the world a friendly visit to your friend’s shop would turn into something with much more commitment.

“You’re telling me that you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? Why on earth would you need that?”

You were pacing around the shop, trying to avoid customers as to not involve them in this very personal conversation. Fred followed you, pleading for you to help him like the great friend you were.

“I told you,” he said, “after The Daily Prophet did that expo on the shop and made me and George out to be rich sexy businessmen, and I mean where’s the lie, all of my crazy exes have been sending me letters and trying to get back with me. I can’t stand it, there’s so many!”

“Yeah, you were never one for long-term relationships, were you?”

Fred hmphed but quickly picked up with his pleading once again. “You don’t understand, Y/N, it’s absolutely unbearable. It’s common knowledge that George and Angie have been going steady for years now, so he’s got pretty much no one after him. But me? I can’t handle it.”

He dramatically threw himself on one of the empty product tables, causing a couple kids to glance in your direction before quickly becoming distracted by one of the exploding jokes across the shop.

“Oh, woe is me, I have too many beautiful women throwing themselves at me, whatever am I to do?” you mocked, earning a nasty glare from your friend.

“I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t of upmost importance,” he said, straightening his tie and assuming a more business-like manner. “Those girls are crazy. Hot, yes, but crazy. And all you have to do is pretend to be dating me for a few weeks, a month at best! What do you say?”

“And what do I get out of this?” you asked. Usually, you’d never say no to helping a friend, especially Fred, but pretending to date him and having him practically use you to make other girls mad? You didn’t like the idea in the slightest. Well, maybe seeing the mad girls would be a bonus. You never cared much for most of the girls Fred went out with.

Fred’s face turned into an upward grin as he rolled his sleeves up and leaned forward. “I was hoping you’d say that. I hear that you’re looking for a place to stay, is that right?”

You nodded hesitantly, having an idea of where he was going.

“Well,” he said, pacing back and forth, “to keep up this charade we’ll need to convince everyone, including George and Angelina. You see, Angie’s friends with Alicia, one of the girls who’s been constantly OWLing me, and if she knew this was fake then she’d blow our cover for sure. Which means…”

You gulped.

“You’d have the pleasure of sharing the loft with me. You’d get a room, shared with me, and a nice living space all rent-free, and all you have to do is act all lovey-dovey and occasionally snog me. That sounds like an offer you can’t refuse.”

Unfortunately, he was right. You were tight on money at the moment and really had no other options. It was a deal you had to make if you wanted to stay afloat, no matter how much annoyance and embarrassment it would cost you.

Sighing, you let your shoulders slump, a sign of defeat. “You do know how to negotiate, don’t you?”

“Well I am a businessman.” Fred stuck out his hand, and with a slow, drawn out motion, you shook it.

It was the 4th night of living with the Weasley twins, or maybe 5th? The nights all seemed to blend together as you’d been having more fun than you had since Hogwarts. George and Angelina didn’t seem surprised at all when you and Fred told them your made up story about how you and Fred started seeing each other. In fact, they both said they always knew it would happen. You and Fred shared a laugh about that in bed that night, before he decided to take up all of the space on the small piece of furniture, prompting you to write your third rule.

Overall, it had been a great experience. Couples game night, movie marathons, gossip sessions with Angelina about you and Fred’s sex life (which you didn’t have to fabricate too much, you already knew too much from the incredible amounts of detail he used to provide about his dates with other girls). It was like being thrown back into a dorm room, and your old teenage self was starting to shine through again.

You stared at yourself in Fred’s bathroom mirror, very proud of how you handled Brooklyn earlier that day. She was one of the few girlfriends of Fred’s you never got to meet, probably because they only dated for a short period of time before she left him for the first rich snob to bat an eye at her. Out of everyone you could think of that he dated, she was by far the worst, which meant the next few days would probably be more difficult. It was easy making that bitch angry with smoke coming from her ears, but you didn’t know how good you’d feel about lying to someone a lot nicer than she was.

After brushing your teeth and donning your pajamas, your Hogwarts house colors of course, you crawled into bed and joined Fred, who was reading one of the novels you had recommended to him. “You like it so far?” you asked.

Fred took off his reading glasses and nodded, setting a bookmark in the book before placing it on his nightstand. “Surprisingly, yes. I didn’t think it would be my thing, but so far it’s actually really good.”

“Told ya,” you said as you laid down beside him. You and Fred were comfortable enough to share a bed with few problems except for his stupid long legs. You’d been friends for years and had grown way too comfortable with each other, so squeezing together each night wasn’t too out of the ordinary.

As you snuggled into the covers, Fred following suit, you mentally went over the schedule for the week.

“How many girls are there again?”

Fred paused for a moment, trying to remember what he had sent to each girl. “A few I was able to ward off via letter, the more sane ones, but there are still two more girls who insisted they pay me a visit. Addison’s coming tomorrow and Alicia the day after that.”

You nodded, although you ducted Fred could see it from his position. “Got it. Addison’s sweet, I liked her.”

Fred scoffed, wrapping an arm around your waist as he had started doing while you two slept. It was nothing more than platonic, Fred was just a touchy person. You told yourself he would do this with any semi-attractive girl laying in his bed.

“Yeah, sweet girl all right, until you come home to your entire apartment torn apart cuz she thought you were cheating on her because apparently you ‘took an extra 12 minutes of lunch break and it seemed awfully suspicious.’”

Your body reverberated with a small giggle, remembering how Fred had to crash with you at your old place while he was trying to replace all the furniture she had literally torn up. “That’s right, she’s almost as crazy as I am.”

“Almost.”

You wouldn’t have a hard time lying to Addison, you decided. It was actually kind of fun when you did it with Brooklyn. You could get really creative with this one.

You released a deep breath and closed your eyes, nestling back into Fred as he spooned you, claiming it was the only way he wouldn’t sprawl out and kick you in your sleep, which you knew was a lie. He’d find a way to kick you somehow. The git always did.

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

“That was surprisingly better than expected!”

You nodded gleefully, handing Fred a scone and coffee that you had picked up from a nearby bakery. Scaring off Addison had been even more fun than Brooklyn, you and Fred really getting into character and being as lovey dovey as possible. She seemed to take it well, but you wouldn’t be surprised if she triggered the security system tonight trying to break in and destroy the shop.

“And if I’m being honest it was actually kind of fun,” you told him, settling in behind the counter.

You raised your muffin to your mouth to take a bite but Fred’s huge mouth snagged a taste before you could, bending down and taking a chunk out before you could have any. “That’s disgusting,” but you had no disgust lingering in your tone.

“I agree,” he said through mouthfuls of muffin. “It was an excellent way to spend the morning. Bloody hell she would not leave!”

“At least she was nice about it.”

Fred reluctantly agreed before making another move to your muffin, one that this time you anticipated and you swatted his nose with a nearby newspaper. “You have your own, you greedy pig.”

He yanked the paper from your hand, using it as a napkin before the front page caught his eye. He quickly crumpled up the paper and tossed it into a nearby waste bin, something you wouldn’t have been suspicious of had he not done it so nervously.

“Fred, what’s in the paper today?”

He shifted to put himself in between you and the wastebin, his tall figure looming over you. “Not important, just more junk that no one cares about.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. “Frederick Weasley you move this instant.” You tried pushing him out of the way but it was like moving an annoying ginger stone wall. Trying another approach, you darted to the left before doubling back and running right, but before you made it two steps he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. “Fred!”

You wiggled with all your might and finally made it out of his grasp, snatching the paper and unfolding it to read the headline.

Diagon Alley Playboy Finally Settling Down? Or Is Y/N L/N Just Another of Fred Weasley’s One Night Stands?

The color drained from your face and you slowly lowered the paper, reading the front page again and again. Attached was a blurry picture of you and Fred from the day before with you tucked into the side. The buggers at The Daily Prophet must’ve caught it through the store window.

“I’m sorry,” Fred said softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I tried to keep things quiet, but I guess the press always finds a way in.”

You rubbed your temple slowly, trying to ignore the dread in your stomach. After seeing Harry Potter be brutally torn apart by the press for years, the last thing you wanted was rumors about you going around.

"We could have prevented this!” you exclaimed, slamming the paper onto the desk. “This is complete bullshit. We’re not even dating! I swear I’m going to march straight to their office and--”

“Don’t bother,” Fred said, completely exasperated by the constant coverage of his family. “It does absolutely nothing, trust me. As a close relative to a professional Quidditch player, The Chosen One himself, and his two best friends who literally saved the world, we’ve learned that nothing will keep them away. Especially since they pinned me as the player of the Weasley family.”

“But you’re not!” you said, getting angrier by the second. “So your relationships don’t last long, so what? You’re not some womanizing piece of shit that the papers say you are!”

Chuckling, Fred replied. “I know that, and you know that. But the rest of the world wants drama, so if they want to think I have a new girl in my bed every night I’ll let them.” He shrugged. “You get used to it after a while.”

“Well you shouldn’t have to,” you grumbled. “You’re one of the best people I know, and the world should know it too.”

Catching you off guard, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your torso and a head lay on your shoulder. “It’s ok, love, just one more day and then you can stay out of the papers forever, I promise.”

Sighing, you turned to face him and let a small smile shine through. “Thanks. But I still think it’s absolute rubbish what they’re doing to your character.”

“Me too, but at least you know what a charming and caring gentleman I am and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Aww,” you coed, “you love me don’t you?”

“Shh, don’t let the press hear! It’ll ruin the image they worked so hard to create.”

You hit your head against Fred’s chest. “Only one more day of this. One more to go.”

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

“Do you know you talk in your sleep?”

“What?” You were so busy trying to find something to wear that you had barely heard what Fred said.

“Last night, when you fell asleep. You said something funny.” He was sitting on the bed, adjusting his work tie and pulling on his socks and shoes. He looked...confused. Like he was trying to solve a complicated problem and he just couldn’t git the pieces together.

“Oh?” you said, growing nervous. Had you dreamt last night? You were racking your brain, hoping you hadn’t said something embarrassing.

You definitely had a dream, and Fred was there. You were at the shop...and Alicia came in! And…

“You were saying ‘Alicia, no, Fred’s mine not yours, I love Fred,” and umm, other stuff like that.” His face was heating up by the second, as was yours.

“Really?” you said through awkward laughs. “Must’ve been preparing for today, huh?”

Fred said nothing, instead choosing to focus on retying his shoes.

“Well,” you said, finally picking out your outfit, “I’m going to change, I’ll meet you down there later, ok?”

He nodded, still confused, and you rushed to use his bathroom before things could get more awkward.

You decided to take a nice, long shower to cool down, hoping that you could somehow wash away the embarrassment. So maybe you had a slight crush on Fred. Who could blame you? You’d been spending the last week cuddled up with him and spending so much time at the shop, not to mention acting like a couple in front of everyone. Who wouldn’t develop feelings?

But for some weird reason you had a feeling that this wasn’t a recent crush, rather something that’s been lurking right beneath the surface for a while. You groaned, hitting your head against the shower wall. This was not the time for this. You had a job to do, and Alicia would be here in 30 minutes so you had to hurry up.

Scampering down the steps 15 minutes later after using a drying spell and getting dressed, you stopped in your tracks when you saw what was happening across the shop. Alicia was here early.

From the looks of it, she had already made herself comfortable, leaning in to talk to Fred, who wasn’t doing anything to discourage the behavior. Instead, he was leaning in as well, laughing at a joke she just made.

Fury burned inside you as you watched the scene unfold. You knew from the beginning that Alicia would be the hardest ex to deal with. Not only had she been Fred’s longest and most intimate relationship to date, but she was also a really nice person, meaning you had no reason to hate her. But at this moment you did.

Alicia leaned closer, her nose almost touching Fred. What should you do? Did he want your help getting rid of her? Was he still harboring feelings and actually looking to reconnect? You saw him slowly lean in toward her, which you took as a sign to continue with your plan.

You were almost running when you reached Fred, who turned and seemed happy to see you. “Just in time,” he said the Alicia, “Alicia, you remember--”

You cut him off with a kiss, the third kiss you’d promised him. Except this one wasn’t one of the pecks you described on your terms and conditions. You pulled Fred down into one of if not the most passionate kiss you’d ever had, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him closer to you.

Almost immediately he pulled off of you, looking more bewildered than you had ever seen him. “I…”

“Well that was quite the spectacle.”

You looked over to where Alicia was standing, smirking at the two of you. Contrary to what you had expected, she actually seemed rather calm and actually amused at what she had just seen.

“S-sorry,” you said. Fred tried to say something but he was too dumbstruck to even get a word out. He just stood there, eyes wide and mouth twitching.

“Is this a bad time?” she asked. “I’m supposed to be meeting my fiancé for breakfast later so I can just come back another time if that works for you.”

“Your...fiancé?”

“Yeah!” Alicia beamed as she showed you her left hand, her ring finger adorned with the most beautiful engagement ring you’d ever seen. “Actually, the reason I’m here is because I just asked Fred if he wanted to be in the wedding as a groomsman. Or bridesmaid. Whatever works for him. Thankfully the big oaf said yes before you laid that on him, or else I think I’d be waiting a lot longer for an answer.”

Fred was still as frozen as ever, making you and Alicia chuckle. “Hey, it’s been forever since we’ve caught up, how about you and Fred go on a double date with me and Lee sometime?”

It took you a second to understand why Lee would be there, until it dawned on you. “You’re marrying Lee Jordan?!”

She couldn’t hold back her laughter at this, loving to see your reaction. “That I am! You’re obviously invited, I’m sending invitations out soon. I’ll hope to see you there, and don’t be afraid to reach out, alright?”

“Y-yeah, will do,” you said. Alicia looked up at Fred and then to you and winked, before waving goodbye and leaving the shop.

You refused to make eye contact with Fred, too embarrassed to even begin to talk to him. Maybe you’d just take 5 and take a walk down the street? That would help distract your brain from whatever just happened.

“Real?”

You turned around to the source of the voice, a now more interactive Fred. “What?”

“Real,” he repeated. He shook his head a few times, blinking rapidly. “Sorry, I just mean, that kiss was umm, it was real.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. The fact that you had kissed Fred, and an actual kiss at that, was finally hitting you. “Yeah, it was real, I guess.”

He took a step closer, his face assuming the puzzled look from the bedroom earlier. “Was...was what you said real too? From the dream, I mean?”

Now it was you who was frozen, feet stuck to the ground with no way out. What should you say? Confess your feelings and hope for the best? Or deny everything and try to work your way around this mess? You didn’t have time to think nor ration. Just act.

“Yeah. It was real.”

Fred nodded, pursing his lips and shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Cool.” He hesitated. “Would it be super crazy out of the blue if I asked you to maybe go out with me sometime. For real?”

A smile rose to your face, hoping that this wasn’t a joke. Slowly, almost shyly, you nodded. “Yeah, it would be a little crazy. But I’d say yes.”

Fred smiled too, a big toothy grin that only made you smile wider, before pulling you into a side hug. “Good, because you’re a little crazy too, so we’ll match on our date.”

“You’re a big dork,” you said, returning the hug. “What will the paper say when they see you with the same girl? They’ll probably explode!”

“I hope so,” he replied as he gave you a loving squeeze. “What I’m worried about is how we’re supposed to explain to George and Angelina that we’ve been faking this whole time and it’s only now getting real.”

“Eh, that’s a problem for another time. Right now, we’ve got some more pressing matters.” You gestured to the front window where a reporter was holding a huge camera, trying to snap a good picture of the two of you.

“I’ll handle it, grab me the dungbombs.”

“Yes, sir!”

You ran to assist Fred, head rushing with thoughts of first dates and future ones down the road. Of attending Lee and Alicia’s wedding together and getting completely wasted with each other. Of sleeping together each night, holding each other in an embrace that was now true and deep and caring. In a relationship that was now real.

Tag List:

@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

#theweasleyslut's 2k writing challenge #fredweasleyimagine #fredweasley #fred #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fake dating #fake dating au #freddie

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fernpost · 3 years

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Cycle 0 - Interviews

[read on ao3]

[next]

Taako Taaco. 114. Elf. Wizard; Specialization in transmutation and inventive magical applications.

Previous experience: Top of class at Tredore, Academy of Magics and Technology; recently graduated.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of petty theft.

Davenport likes to think of himself as calm and composed. It’s hard to throw him off. He has to be in order to have gotten this far in his mission as fast as he has.

But when he turns around from shutting the door to see his interviewee with his feet kicked up on the table, twirling a wand through his fingers, he’s a little shocked. He’s been doing these interviews for two days now, and even the more relaxed and confident people have held a bit more sense for decorum.

It’s a bit rude.

It’s also a little interesting.

He sits at his desk, pulling the elf’s papers away from his boots (shiny, and though they look expensive he can see they’re worn down and well taken care of) and glances down. “Tell me, Taako Taaco, what makes you want to explore the planerverse?”

“Bored.”

If the feet on the desk threw him off for a second, that floors him entirely. “Bored?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do on this plane, why not, you know?”

“No burning desire to go further than any being has gone before?” That’s one of the normal responses, the well-planned out speeches he keeps getting in response to his opening question.

The elf crosses his feet, leaning back somehow further into the provided chair. Davenport worries for a second that he may fall as he continues on, “that’s cool too, I guess. But I figure, why wouldn’t you want the great Taaco name aboard your ship.”

Davenport picks up a pen from his table and makes a small note on the paperwork, “no offense, Mr. Taaco, but you’re rather cavalier about this interview that determines whether or not you’re accepted into a program that may redefine our understanding of the world.”

The elf shrugs and takes his feet off of Davenport’s desk, flashing him a smirk, “you’ve seen my sister’s paperwork, yeah? No way you’re not going to accept her, and we’re a package deal. Says it right there in bold at the top of my application, my man.” It does, in fact, say that at the top. Cursive words noting how he refuses to accept any position on the ship if his sister isn't there too. When reviewing who he was interviewing today, he saw similar words on Lup Taaco’s paperwork.

“You’re very confident in your sister’s abilities.” Davenport begins, pausing for a second as he notes the way the elf begins to tense up before continuing, “however, I wouldn’t sell yourself so short. You also graduated top of your class, and excelled in the art of transmutation multiple times. One of your letters of recommendation even noted how you made many spells easier to cast, somatically speaking.”

“What can I say, I’ll find any short cut I can.”

Davenport makes another note on his paper. “Now, I do need to ask about your record of petty theft.”

“Oh, natch.”

Lup Taaco. 114. Elf. Wizard; Specialization in evocation and applied magic regarding planar research.

Previous experience: Top of class at Tredore, Academy of Magics and Technology; recently graduated.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of petty theft.

“Lup Taaco, it is nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain.” The woman in front of him smiles. The resemblance to her brother couldn’t be more clear, and though her demeanor is quite similar, she at least doesn’t have her feet on his desk.

Not that his desk is anything fancy, but the point stands. “I’m not technically the captain yet, you know.”

“Potato, potato.”

Davenport is fairly certain that’s not how that phrase is used. “You did research into the planes at Tredore, correct?”

“Quite a bit, yeah. I’m sure my brother told you?”

The slight tilt of her head and lit of her voice tells Davenport this is some sort of test, which is confusing and a bit disconcerting, considering he is the one conducting the interview. He checks a quick box on his papers. “He talked you up a bit, yes. But this is your own interview, and I wanted to discuss your own knowledge with you, personally.”

She smiles, a touch more warmth to it than her previous attitude. “Oh, of course. Did quite a bit of studying at Tredore. First real school we attended. Kinda boring at times, you know?”

“If you’re accepted into this program, it’s going to be four intense months of studying and teaching you the more complex workings of the ship. Plus the two months of actually being on the ship.”

“That’s the fun stuff. Not a third semester in a row of another language I already figured out most of years ago.”

“How many languages do you speak, Ms. Taaco?”

“Including common, five languages.”

“Impressive.” Davenport himself only speaks three. “Now, I would like to ask you about your criminal record, if you don’t mind?”

Her smile grew sharp as she laughs.

Honestly, he isn’t surprised. Her explanation is the same as her brothers. Grew up on the road, needed food and other items on occasion. Didn’t always run fast enough. Davenport can’t fault them, and certainly won’t hold it against them.

He glances down at her paperwork, about to ask another question about her education, when she speaks up. “I’ve got a question for you, Captain.”

“Oh?”

“The ship- we’re really going with the name ‘The Starblaster’?”

Davenport sighs. He knew this question was coming, but he was expecting it to come during a press conference from a reporter, not a potential shipmate. “Yes. To be fair, it was a communal name we put to a vote from everyone who worked on building the engine.”

Ms. Taaco smiles. “Dope.”

Barry J. Bluejeans. 37 years old. Human. Wizard; specialization in applied magic regarding bonds and planar research.

Previous experience: Current assistant professor at Duffman University of the Arcane, part-time employee at the Institute of Planer Research and Exploration.

Criminal Record: Previous altercations regarding necromancy; no crimes against the nature of life and death ever committed.

Mr. Bluejeans is an interesting man. By the look of him, you’d expect to see him fumbling his way through a PTA meeting for his two kids. Instead, Davenport is staring down the word ‘necromancy’ on his paperwork on an application regarding literal planar travel on a ship called 'the Starblaster.'

So far, the interview has been going well. He’d listened to the man explain his research into the arcane, and he’d understood planar travel as well as any of the current scientists and engineers at the Institute. He was called in often for conferences and meetings about the bond engine. He’d seen the man walking around on occasion. They’d never been in a meeting together before, but he’d seemed nice.

But he also had a history of necromancy.

Now, Davenport doesn’t like to judge people. However, being in an enclosed space with someone who needed to specify he had never technically committed “crimes against the nature of humanity” isn’t the most comforting.

But, he was a smart man. Easy to get along with, too. So far. Necromancy notwithstanding.

Best to get it over with, “so, Mr. Bluejeans. I do need to ask about your criminal record-”

“Oh! Yeah, I never killed anyone. Or un- killed anyone. Uh, resurrected, I mean. Just did lots of studying into the application of necromancy and necromantic spells. Got in trouble because I toed the line of ‘research’ and ‘bringing my cat back to life,’ but got a stern talking to. Didn’t try it again, and don’t plan on needing to deal with those types of authorities again.”

Okay, normal enough answer, far as the situation applies-

“My current research into it has stayed purely theoretical, and it won’t interfere with the mission at all.”

So the man is still into necromancy.

Davenport glances down at the man’s file, thick with it’s attached papers Bluejeans has done on planar research. He’s not even stuck up about his level of education, and that’s extremely rare for the field.

Holding back a sigh, Davenport asks, “Can you explain the paper you wrote on the outer planes interactions with the inner planes for me?”

It was a really good paper.

But the man is still into necromancy.

Lucretia. 20. Human. Chronicler; Specialization in journalism.

Previous experience: Due to multiple NDA, she is unable to give us the exact number and titles of books she has written, but she sent letters of recommendation from Duke Rensburg, Lady Norabelle, and Warren of the Seatree Clan.

Criminal Record: Acquisition and attempted use of a false ID.

“So, Ms. Lucretia, I understand you cannot provide us with most examples of your works, but from what you have provided, you seem to be very, very good.”

“I like to think so, yes.” The young woman in front of him seems polite. She’s quiet; he saw her waiting outside with a few others before her interview, and while most of them were engaged in some awkward small talk, she sat away from them. Likely partially due to her age- she is much younger than the people outside- but she also simply seems quiet.

Which wouldn’t be the worst quality in someone you would be sharing a small, enclosed space with for an extended period of time. But, if she couldn’t bond with the others sufficiently, the bond engine won’t work.

(Hell, the bond engine was already finicky, they figured out the tech only a month ago, and they only have four months to bond an entire crew to pilot it and-)

“Can you explain to me why you acquired a fake ID and tried to use it at a, uh,” Davenport glances down at the records in front of him, holding back a chuckle, “at the forbidden section of the Library of Runar?”

Lucretia looks uncomfortable for a second, and he’s sure if the lighting in the room were better he would be able to see her flush with embarrassment. She gives him a hesitant smile, “I can’t get into the explicit details, but I was working on a book for an older client whose memory was becoming patchy, and I wanted to confirm some details before I put their name to it. They wouldn’t allow me into the section without the proper documents, but my client refused to agree that I should double check his work, even though I was almost certain he was wrong, so I simply… found a way to get past their guard. I wasn’t going to steal anything and I was going to use the proper equipment to read through the documents.”

Davenport smiles, “pursuit of knowledge and truth is important to you, then?”

“I don’t think spreading lies, especially in that context, is very honorable, no.” Her hands are folded in her lap now, and she seems a bit more relaxed.

Considering the others he is planning on accepting, he may be wrong about her getting along with them. Anyone willing to break the law just to prove an old man wrong would at least get along with him. Davenport refuses to have any pushovers aboard his ship.

Magnus Burnsides. 19. Fighter; Specialization in protection fighting and mechanical engineering.

Previous experience: Current bouncer at Apex Club. Currently enrolled in Gallier’s Fighter Academy and College.

Criminal Record: One count of assault and battery, appealed for defense of another person present. One count of indecent exposure and public intoxication.

Davenport will be the first to admit it can be tricky to follow human aging patterns, but he knows he’s not mistaken in thinking the man in front of him is barely out of “child” territory. Nineteen is a very, very small amount of time to be alive. Also, a very, very small amount of time to learn important things, like how to run what is basically a ship right out of a science fiction novel- complete with breakthrough technology.

Despite this, it’s hard to not find the young man in front of him to be endearing, and mostly knowledgeable in the things they need him to be.

“Magnus. You’re very young, one of the youngest applicants we have. What makes you think you’re qualified as the head of security of the ship?”

The young man in front of him- Gods, he really is young- grins and lifts his arms to flex, a show of pride and ego almost unbefitting of an interview setting, “Have you seen my muscles? I’m very strong, and a very good fighter.”

Many of today’s interviews have been quite different than he was expecting.

“I was referring more to job experience.”

“Oh!” Magnus shifts in his seat, fingers drumming against the table as he thinks. “I worked as a bouncer for a club while I was in college and did, if I must toot my own horn, a very good job. You should have a letter of recommendation from the owner-” He leans forwards, reaching a hand out as if to look through his own files to show him the letter.

“Yes, I did read through it. She was very thorough in stating how eager you were to help.” Davenport glances down at the papers in front of him, holding back a sigh. It truly was a glowing review of this young man. While his grades from the aforementioned college weren’t the highest, especially in classes one might consider important for an institute of planar research, the two letter of recommendations he submitted from teachers of his explained how Burnsides was very persistent when he wanted to learn something he didn’t know. He also had taken quite a few classes regarding vehicles- not enough to claim the young man was an expert but enough to provide a solid basis to show him how things worked and could be repaired on the ship.

The kid’s attitude was something of a breath of fresh air in this place. However, there was one glaring concern.

“I was also a bit concerned about the criminal record we have on file for you. Assault and battery as well as the indecent exposure and public-”

“In my defense for the second one, I was drunk with some friends and maybe thought it’d be funny to streak in the lake. Who hasn’t been to a party that gets a little out of hand.” He holds his hands out as if to say “am I right?”

Off the record, Davenport is inclined to agree that he was right. On the record, he is choosing to ignore it. “And the assault and battery? The file says it was in defense of a young person.”

Burnsides grins, “that’s how I got hired as the bouncer!”

He waits a moment, expecting Magnus to continue. When it seems the young man is assuming that is enough explanation, he prompts, “by beating up a man outside the club?”

“Yeah! He was harassing someone outside, and I was walking home and passed by. I told him to step off, and he didn’t. So I decked him, and he was out right away.”

It lined up with the records he had, and honestly, seeing someone so ready to step up to the defense of a stranger was a good quality. Better than some of the older applicants who were much more… formal in their training. He wonders briefly how Burnsides would react to an altercation against someone with magic.

Glancing down at his records, he guesses he would run headfirst without thinking.

Stifling a small grin, Davenport continues, “Now, tell me. Assume we’re up in space, and something goes wrong with the bond engine. What would your course of action be, Mr. Burnsides?”

Merle Hitower Highchurch. 214. Cleric; Specialization in botany, religion, and medical treatment.

Previous experience: Current botanist at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration. Professor of botany at Narvick’s University for four years.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of loitering.

The door is pushed all the way open before Davenport can even call out the next person.

A short dwarf slides into the room with a wide grin, “hey Dav!” A mug of tea is pressed into his hands.

“Hello, Merle. You do know this needs to be at least a little formal, yes?”

“Formal schmormal. Ask me your silly questions already, bud.” Merle Highchurch, resident botanist at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration, plops right down in the seat he’d taken to commandeering once a week, for the past three weeks.

Davenport had seen him around before, but a botanist in an institute designed for exploring other planes that had little capabilities to actually go to those places yet was rarely busy, and even more rarely called upon. He still barely knew the guy, but after the day they’d gotten stuck in the elevator for ten minutes when it broke down, the dwarf had come to his office for tea each Wednesday.

It was a bit strange, but the tea was good.

“Tell me about your work experience.”

Merle laughs heartily, “they barely have me do anything around here, ‘cept tend to the couple of plants they’ve grabbed from the ground plane.”

“It’s the Elemental Plane of Earth, and don’t sell yourself short, Merle. This is basically a job interview, you know.”

Merle slurps loudly at his own mug, “aren’t you planning on nepotism hiring me, because we’re buds?”

“That isn’t even what that word means, Merle.”

“Isn’t it?”

Davenport stares into the tea, “is this made from the Earth plant?”

“Maybe?”

Davenport. 276. Captain and navigator; Specialization in mechanical engineering and arcane components combined with contemporary technology.

Previous Experience: Crewmate on the Lady Blue for twenty years. Graduated from Grensville University. Current staff at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration.

Criminal Record: Unlawful resistance of orders from captain, raising of commotion on board ship while employed.

Davenport handed the six files over to Selune, “These are them.”

The halfling woman flips through them, eyebrows raising higher with each one she sees. “You’re sure you grabbed the right ones? A few of these I understand, but you do know we had the Issaiah Broler apply.”

He folds his hand in front of him, nodding. “I also know that during the interview he made me want to pour my tea on his lap. There’s no chance of getting the bond engine going with him. These are the six I picked. They’re all qualified- and the ones that are less educated in the specifics in the field I’m sure will pick up on the important information quickly. The Taaco twins already will give the bond engine a huge boost. Ms. Lucretia will ensure we have everything chronicled, something I’m sure you can appreciate, Selune. Mr. Bluejeans previous work shows he will thrive given the opportunities awaiting us. Mr. Highchurch is an educated man, and I trust him to keep the crew healthy and provide ample information on anything botany related we encounter, and I’m certain Mr. Burnsides will provide ample help in any task we show him how to do.” He sighs, glancing out the window of her office. There were a few people lingering outside in the courtyard of the Institute. “We have been given a tremendous opportunity to explore beyond what we can imagine, Selune. The last thing I want is to be bogged down by people stuck in their ways, who have been working in this field long enough to have their preconceived notions about what to expect and who will react badly when they’re proven wrong. I trust my own judgement in picking a crew, and I hope you trust my abilities to get these people ready to set sail in four months.”

What he doesn’t say is that he doesn’t want a bunch of stuffy jackasses on his ship. He’s not even sure picking all the over-qualified people would pass through the higher-ups' inspection of the crew. The people he picked were qualified enough to get a quick sign-off, but not too much. Anyone “overqualified” would probably get rejected. The ship had been built in basically six months. It’d get them off the ground, sure. It wasn’t going to explode on them once they got up there, but it wasn’t safe. There was a reason Davenport was the captain at all.

The six candidates in those files didn’t have a name for themselves as “important” to any stuffy scientific group or noble family. These people he picked were just that- people. A group of people who he believed deserved this opportunity. If anyone was getting the chance to make a name for themselves- to have the chance to redefine everything they know about the planar systems, he wanted to make sure they deserved the chance. A dangerous chance, sure. But what was science if not a little risky.

She sighs, opening the file on top. Her hand reaches for her pen, “Davenport, I got the final say on the name of the ship, I suppose the least I can do is give you final say on the crew.” She begins to write ‘approved’ at the top of the file, flipping through each one before giving him a pointed look. “But when I get angry calls about how you approved a bunch of nobodies and two people not even old enough to drink, I’m transferring them straight to your crystal.”

“And I will not be answering a single one.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Captain.”

#davenport #taako #lup #magnus burnsides #lucretia #barry bluejeans #merle highchurch #taz balance #the stolen century #my works

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swtki · 3 years

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Anonymous said:

Heyy! Can you do a Cedricxfem!reader smut? Where the reader get stood up at the Yule ball and Cedric heart breaks since he has been in love with the reader for quite some time. And then they do the nasty you know thank you

A/N: Okay so basically...I am a stupid fucking Cedric simp,,,,and since I got home today, and my course work is fairly light for this week (no promises) my requests are open and I will try to get as much out as I can this week before my birthday! Jan 24th and you will get an about me post. ALSO, thanks for 700 (now 710 no brag) followers! I love you guys! Ok onto the fic!.

moodboard

WARNINGS: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, SAPPY CEDRIC, BAD WORDS OH GOD OH FUCK

(Y/N) stood in front of her full length mirror in her dormitory room, admiring the fabric hugging her hips. Very rarely did she ever get to see herself like this, never mind other people. Her hand reached up to move a stray strand of hair back into place, a minor detail that although she doubt mattered, she could not refrain from. It was the night of the Yule ball, a night that the girls in her year wanted perfection more than ever, (Y/n) not excluded.

It would not be unheard of, however it would be rather embarrassing to show up un-courted. Nobody to dance with, nobody to share a moment in the moonlight with. That’s why when Miles Dane asked her to the ball, she did not hesitate to say yes.

To be quite honest, the two seventh years had never really talked. Though, they did have potions together. Surely, she would get to know him while sharing a dance, and she had to admit that he was quite charming and handsome. A tall Ravenclaw boy, lankly in the most perfect way, his skin a medium tone that glowed in the sunlight, so the carriages weren’t out of the question either.

The clock on the wall read six fifty, there was no sign of Miles, only (Y/N) and her twiddling thumbs. She wanted to scream, to cry, to hurt him even, but above all, she wanted to believe he was coming. Everything was going to be perfect. It should all be perfect.

Inside the hall, Cedric Diggory, the Golden Boy of Hogwarts, was pretending to be interested. The mundane conversation between Cho, his date who he now was sure didn’t even remember who she came with, and another seventh year girl droned on. Despite the banging of the loud music into his ear, Cedrics head was silent. Bored. Without saying anything, he slipped away from the table, creeping into the corridor for a breath of fresh air.

The cold December air hit Cedrics face with a refreshing feeling, the pressures of being a Tri-Wizard champion melted off of his shoulders. Though, he didn’t like to admit it, he sometimes questioned if this path was right for him. Would it have been better if he had stayed put, never scratched his name upon the parchment? He knew that he couldn’t change the past, no matter how much he wanted to. Cedrics tall, lean body slumped against the stone wall. All was quiet around him, a welcomed environment. Then, he heard the faintest gasp, causing the hairs on his neck to stand up.

“Fuck,” (Y/N) sighed out, wiping the small bead of sorrow that had escaped from her eye. She knew Miles was not coming. A dark figure leaning over her crouched body interrupted her racing mind. Instinctually, she looked up from her knees.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” Cedric said in a soft voice.

“Nothing..nothing is wrong Diggory.” She avoided eye contact. Cedric and (Y/N) had been friends in years prior, particularly in third year. But as time drew on, their paths separated, effectively making them strangers to one another. He had gone on to be a hearthrob who was wanted by every girl, while she had focused on her studies and the go-to for casual sex.

“You know, we may not have sat together for three years, but don’t you think I can tell when you’re lying?” He squatted on the cement next to her, becoming eye level. “Now, what are you doing out here? You look so gorgeous, I’m sure your bloke in there is missing you.” His hand gestured behind him to the large archway leaking a bright tune.

“Yeah, thats the thing,” she drew a sharp breath in, tilting her head up, “My bloke never fucking showed up. Look at me, all dressed up and no one to dance with.” Her eyes closed, painting a small smile in an attempt to conceal her pain.

“Oh...I see.” Cedric stood up and offered his hand to the girl below him. “Well, let me fix that for you.” She rolled her eyes, but happily accepted.

Opting to stay where they were, the two swayed in each others arms. The warmth of Cedrics arms comforted the girl, soothing her in a way Cedric had not soothed her in years.

“Didn’t you come with a date?” she asked, her head on his chest.

“Yeah, shes inside. She lost interest with me I’m afraid.” Cedric made a small chuckle that made her bite her lip. “You know...I’ve heard about your reputation. I’m a little surprised, I thought you would always hate boys. Cooties was it?” He teased, resting his chin on her head.

“Oh fuck off. For the record, I did like boys. I liked you, Cedric. I still do.” He pulled away from her figure slightly, his eyes searching over her face. Then without any hesitation, he collided his lips to hers.

Shocked at first, she froze. But within a second, her hands were cradling his face. The kiss was deep, full of years worth of emotion. His grip tightened on her waist. Time stood still for the pair, it felt like hours before Cedric pulled away.

“Do you want to go to my dorm?” He said, panting.

“Won’t people notice if you run off?? You’re like a celebrity around here, Ced.” She grinned up at him. Cedrics face took a more serious appearance, but his manor became relaxed.

“Fuck ‘em.” His large hand grasped hers, leading the way to his dormitory.

(Y/N) sat on the soft mattress, her body stiff and unsure. Cedric fumbled around, locking the door, playing suave. He stood a mere three feet from her, wondering how he got so lucky.

“Did you want to just chat because...Cedric, I can do far more than chat with you.” She gave him a seductive look, making the boy swallow hard.

“Well I... I mean trust me, the way you look sitting on my bed is amazing, and I’m all for it. But the question is, are you - I mean do you want to? With me?” A rose blush creeped upon the Hufflepuff boys face, making (Y/N) giggle.

“Come here, Ced.” She beckoned him over to her with her finger. He happily obliged, walking over to sit next to her. But before he could sit, she put a hand on his chest, stopping him in his place. “Stand...I want you to stand while I sit. Is it okay if I..?” she gestured to the growing errection inside his trousers.

“Fuck...please darling.” She bit her lip and started undoing his pants, enjoying the sight before her eyes. She stroked his cock, admiring the way his eyes scrunched up when she ran her thumb over the tip. Smiling, she leaned over and put it in her mouth. His soft moans filled the room as he ran his slender fingers through her soft hair. All of the sudden, he yanked her off, pushing her on her back.

“My turn, love.” Cedrics mouth started leaving sloppy kisses around her mouth, trailing down to her neck while his left hand massaged her tit over her dress. Her elbows pressed into the bed, pushing her up.

“Wait, lets get these off, yeah?” Cedric kissed her, then unzipped her dress, fumbling to strip himself as quickly as he could. Once she was left in just her knickers, he continued where he had left off. He traveled until he got to her covered pussy, looking up at her to see if he could continue. She nodded, her eyes filled with need.

Cedrics left hand pushed apart her legs, letting him get a proper look at how she felt about him. His other hand yanked off her knickers, little did Y/N know how mental simple white cotton undies made Cedric. Without hesitation, his mouth started attacking her sensitive clit. The pleasure was unlike anything she had ever felt with her previous fucks, because this pleasure was dedicated with love. Her eyes rolled back into her head, a wanton moan escaping from her throat. This encouraged him to suck on her clit, and then to Y/Ns delight, inserted two fingers. Filthy moans filled the room as her cunt felt so pleasured in a way she had never felt.

“Fuck thats so fucking...oh my god Ced.” He moved his fingers at a faster speed, attacking her clit simultaneously. Eyes rolling back into her head, a pure groan of pleasure filled Cedrics ears as she bucked her hips, reaching a climax unlike any other.

Cedric stood, climbed on the bed, then looked at her.

“Do you want to..keep going or?” He ran his thumb over her lips.

“yes but..I wanna be on top” His heart beat faster, his erection becoming somehow even harder. He laid down on his bed, allowing her to swing a leg over his hips. Y/N grabbed his member and ran it through her folds, watching as his face contorted in pleasure. Then she sunk her body onto his, both of them in seventh heaven.

Her hips started rocking against his, making his cock hit all the right parts inside her. Cedric was in love with the sight before him, his eyes looking at her like she was a goddess. Her hand reached down, rubbing her clit, maximizing her pleasure. It wasn't long until her next orgasm washed over her, making Cedric even more eager to put himself to use. When she was back off her high, he brought her down to him, chest to chest. Thrusting up into her was the best feeling he could have imagined, it went on for minutes, both of them feeling amazing.

Y/N leaned over into his ear to whisper,

“Please cum inside me, Ced. Please, I want you to use me and leave my body stained with your cum.” Cedric, finding out that now he had a thing for cumming inside her, sped up. His hips clashed with her arse as his climax grew closer and closer.

Cedrics eyes rolled into his head, his body releasing his cum into hers. His legs shook a bit, he had just had the best orgasm he had ever had. The girl on top of him rolled over, now laying beside him. Both of them sat in silence, trying to catch their breath.

“I love you so fucking much, Y/N”

#cedric x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader smut #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory smut #robert pattinson smut #Harry Potter Smut #harry potter x reader smut #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco mallfoy imagines #draco mallfoy x reader

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Ah I just read like 5 of your head cannons they're amazing! Could you write about the M9 reacting to a fighter s/o using magic for the fist time, and the s/o explaining that they haven't used it cause it scares them?

Thank you so much ☺️! It turned out a bit longer than I intended but more content is good right? I tried to get some variety in the types of magic users to kudos to anyone who figures out the (sub)classes. Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy this one 😘

Caleb:

Caleb, observant as he is caught on the fact you had more knowledge of the arcane than you let people believe. You knew things someone not schooled in some kind of magic wouldn’t have the faintest clue about. It may have left him a bit suspicious of you in the beginning but over time he saw no malicious intent or a connection to the people he’d rather distance himself from.

The first time Caleb noticed you cast a spell, you spoke the familiar words combined with the motions to deflect a hit from an enemy mid battle that otherwise might have been the death of you. You thought no one had noticed but Caleb had, and he recognised the shield spell you used. He saw you flinch the moment you cast it and fear in your eyes as if you were waiting for an aftermath. It never came but you were on edge for the next few hours.

Approaching you after noticing you were still on edge, nervously fidgeting with a coin in your hand to get rid of the more obvious jitters, you denied all claims. If Caleb is good at anything it’s providing a verbal slap in the face through reality check and calling out your bullshit. He wouldn’t press for answers because your past is your past and he had no right to demand it if you were not willingly offering it.

It took you some time but you came clean. You told him how your relationship with practical magics is destructive and hurts people. Because of that you vowed to distance yourself from magic altogether but sometimes you slip and hope no one notices and no ill effects follow you casting any spell. Caleb understands, better than anyone perhaps. He admires your restraint and capability of stepping away from the thing that causes you so much pain; something he never could.

If you’re able to and with your consent Caleb would help you work through your fears, only for your own wellbeing because one thing is undeniable; your magic is part of you and if you never learn to live with it, that it is part of you, you might never be able to accept it. What happens when you’re unable to fear the magic? Will you instead turn to fear yourself like he had himself for so long? No, if he can spare you a fate like that he’d do anything.

Beau:

You never hid the fact you were schooled in the arcane. It just never clicked you are actually a very capable spellcaster especially donned in battle worn armour and your tastes for sharp edged pointy things, and a ‘will cut a bitch’ attitude whenever someone comes for you or those close to you.

Perhaps a little ashamed to admit the first time Beau actually saw you cast a spell it was a simple mage hand cantrip. You couldn’t reach a book on a high shelf at the Archive and you thought it disrespectful to physically climb the bookcases to get it. Beau may or may not have been watching you, more like admiring your muscle. Nothing better than a strong, gorgeous ripped bookworm. Mouth agape you caught Beau staring. You had to snap her out of it. Beau had a million questions, maybe half of them flirty. You answered her questions best you could, even the flirty ones but when it got to where you learned magic you sort of just shut down so she dropped the subject. Beau knows how to read the room no matter how much she might want to press for answers. She’ll refrain. For now.

This doesn’t mean Beau drops the subject entirely for all future reference though. She’d leave hooks for you in case you’d be in a more talkative mood and grow frustrated when you ignored or brushed off the so-many-eth attempt to get you to spill some beans. One day she sat you down, giving you one more chance to tell her what’s going on. If you wanted to tell her, you could. If not, she’d never ask again or try to get you to talk about it.

That’s when you broke down, explaining all the terrible memories of your ‘studies’. You were the only child in a long line of powerful mages to barely be able to cast a cantrip growing up. You were a disappointment and disgrace to your family. Rigorous hours practicing and studying from dawn til dusk without breaks. Not being allowed to go outside and play with friends until you got this one thing right. Nevermind the fact that your family let it be known you were a disappointment.

You’d been working hard already to break the circle but couldn’t prevent the bad memories haunting you every time you felt like you had to cast a spell. No matter how far you ran, whenever you reached for the components, spoke the words or performed the somatics, you were hit with a sense of incompetence. Beau’s not unfamiliar to the need of living up to the expectations of family. She’d be there for you if you wanted to take up magic on your own terms or distance yourself from magic entirely.

Fjord:

Didn’t have a single clue you were magically inclined. But to be fair you never gave anyone a reason to believe you were. You were born with magic and you had seen what developing those abilities had done to others like you. You like yourself the way you are and would very much prefer not to fall into the servitude of some evil entity in the hunger for more power.

You’d seen Fjord spiral into the clutches of his patron and saw him struggle to get away from the leviathan. Ritualistically you tapped into the power bestowed upon you to search for a way to break the pact between warlock and patron. Of course it was doable and your powers could show you the way but you needed to get stronger first…

Fjord grew worried. You’d begun talking to yourself, spending nights awake and an odd sense of paranoia had grasped you. A storm hit once and you had nowhere to shelter. The little voice in your head came back. You could stop that storm. All it would take is a little tiny taste. When you agreed you had no control over yourself. Hand held up to the sky, eyes white and skin ashen, a bright light emitted and the clouds disappeared. Needless to say this did not go unnoticed by anyone.

Obligatory endless questions. Obligatory none answered. You retreated within your shell choosing to ignore your surroundings and feeling the nagging in the back of your head. Fjord heard you speaking to yourself at night. Asking the skies if it was worth it. Worth what? You heard him and just because the voice in the back of your head told you not to, you told Fjord everything; how you had been trying to find a way to keep Uk’otoa at bay, how to break his connection with his patron and give him freedom and what would happen to you if you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching for more after completing that goal.

Fjord refuses to let you sacrifice yourself for his freedom. He’d rather have you fighting the evils of the world at his side than end up fighting you in an attempt to save yourself from what you might become. The two of you would work together to repress the inkling for more power and keep your powers at bay and under control. While you might want to see it differently, for the good of everything you’d stay far away from any magical forces seeking to awaken the power you were born with.

Veth:

Veth made it clear she would not understand why anyone would pass on the opportunity to learn or develop magical abilities should they be available to them. She literally spoke those words and you just nodded along changing the subject. You’d rather not lie but is this lie by omission?

It was an emergency. A fight had gone south and you were losing quickly. Clerics on their last legs, a wizard down being dragged away by the monk and Veth running in arrows blazing and screaming to protect her friends. You had to get out and none of you were quick enough at this point to all get out. So you did what you had to do. A quick expeditious retreat resulted in conveniently released magic missiles at your enemies, grabbing the halfling who got out some last shots you misty stepped your way to safety. You shouted to the others you were safe immediately knowing to keep your mouth shut for the next minute. Bless the gods the surges weren’t that bad this time.

Safely returned Veth commented on what you did. Did you take those scrolls? Did you buy that misty step enchanted item after all? Those were the only logical explanations right? Yes but they weren’t true. So you told Veth the truth. No scrolls or enchanted items were involved. Why didn’t you tell anyone you could do that?! It would have been so helpful in the past! Look how many buttons you could have helped her get!

You calmly explained her you could cast spells and were actually quite good at it one point your magic is dangerous, and the surges uncontrollable the state you’re at. While this time the reward by far exceeded the risks in this situation, you’d rather prevent killing those around you in a blaze of glory if you can. Wild magic surges are no joke and you’re so afraid of hurting the people you care about you’d rather step away from magic completely than live with the knowledge you could be the end of your friends and family.

Veth still has a hard time understanding your reasoning being prone to risky behaviour herself but accepts your views and respects your decisions. While you may not practice magic you still know it and after some persuasion, the woman gets you to teach her a thing or two. Of course all used for the good of mankind of course…. She just failed to specify who’s.

Jester:

You’re a special one. The Traveler told her so after all! He just didn’t tell her in what way specifically but you are special! That Traveler of hers may know a bit more than you’re comfortable with so you’ve been wary of the green cloak should he see the need to reveal your secrets. Luckily he cares about Jester and revealing your secrets would hurt you and you being hurt makes Jester upset so you can take comfort in the Traveler’s attachment to the tiefling.

Pixies came to haunt you in the night. They were meant to send you a message. Someone wanted you to stop running and accept your fate. Pissed off as you were you fought them off but when some tried to get away and your bow out of reach you were forced to release the bursts of bright green energy. Regret hit followed by fear. What if your patron could find you now? What if they came to get you or tried to hurt your friends to get you to cooperate? You will never be a puppet again and if a cantrip screwed this up for you….

“Oh. My. Gosh. Why did you never tell me you could do magic?” Jester exclaimed waking up Fjord just to tell him your eldritch blasts looked so much cooler than his. Guess the cat’s out of the bag… You had to prevent Jester from waking up the others to tell them you’d just gotten even cooler than you already were.

Successfully sending the others back to sleep you took Jester aside. Your hands still shaking, you asked her to talk to her god and ask him if he knew someone might be looking for you and getting close. The Traveler obliged but he wanted to hear the story behind your predicament. You told Jester everything ignoring the green hooded figure. How a being from another realm tricked you into an agreement. From then on you became a warlock.

You didn’t like being a warlock and you being stuck in such a binding deal lead to a very abusive relation between you and your patron so you did everything in your power to get away from them. Luckily crossing the planes is a lot more difficult and limits their capabilities quite a bit. Jester promised she’d protect you and of course the Traveler can be your new god so he’ll protect you too. Both you and the Traveler might not have been in full agreement with this statement. Jester understands you wanting to be far away and never see your patron again. She’s seen her mom get rid of the people getting a little too close for comfort or too attached and possessive so she knows how to deal with them.

Caduceus:

From the beginning you knew you couldn’t hide anything from Caduceus no matter how hard you tried. This lead you to just never specify anything. If he picked up on thing and asked about them then you’d answer, if not, you weren’t just going to say anything. Not even to explain yourself. Let him draw his own conclusions.

You may once have been a devout follower of your god, the one who bestowed upon you the powers you’d need to uphold their tenets but you veered from that path. Not everything is as black and white as some people claim it to be. You learned the hard way afraid of repeating your mistakes you’d only revert to your old habits in the most dire situations.

Caduceus had gone down. Jester was too far away and you were the only one able to get to him in time but you were out of healing potions. A quick lay on hands later and Caduceus was back on his feet albeit a bit confused about how you had managed to get him back to the land of the living. Talk later, he told you after seeing you mortified of what you had just done through the relief of seeing Caduceus alive.

Talk later you did. You couldn’t run away from your problems. Caduceus wouldn’t let you. You told him how you had done terrible things, hurt people because your god willed it so. You thought you were doing the right thing until you were faced with the truth and consequences. That’s when you stepped away from your life as a paladin; a vessel for your god.

You kept the sword but refused to use the magic; proof of your ability to hurt people who were worthy of redemption. Over many months Caduceus would help you see that your magic is nothing to be afraid of as long as you wield it with a good conscious and to protect instead of seek vengeance. There’s a fine line between being righteous and being just. The Wildmother taught him as much. Maybe she could through him, show you the same?

Yasha:

Whenever someone played a happy tune or began singing you’d retreat and block out your surroundings or find anything you could to distract you from the sound. Yasha just thought music’s not for everyone and maybe these songs and melodies just were’t your style. However when you asked her to please stop humming a tune while you had watch together she became a bit suspicious.

Spending some downtime at a tavern, deep in your cups Yasha was being bothered by a rather persistent asshole. On the verge of a fight breaking out you stepped in front of the barbarian and in a singsong voice told the asshole to kindly piss off and find company elsewhere with someone actually interested. The act alone made your stomach churn so you ran off.

You didn’t like controlling people. It didn’t even take a rhyme or proper verse. All it took was some booze and a melody in your head. This couldn’t happen again. Yasha had come after you to check on you and when you told her to stop, she stopped, frozen in place unable to move. You immediately dropped the accidental spell you cast putting distance between you and Yasha.

Yasha assured her it was fine and with your permission approached. A hug from the gentle goth was all it took for you to turn into a sobbing mess. When the sobs calmed down you told Yasha how you were cursed with your voice. Song and rhymes, tunes and melodies constantly plagued you afraid you’d go along with them and people got hurt because you couldn’t control your voice.

For the longest time you were uncomfortable using your voice but with your permission Yasha would help you practice. She can take a hit if you lose control badly but this fear is no good for you. She’ll play sweet serenades, some prettier than others as she too needs practice, the both of you can practice together learning and relearning the things you grew to love together.

Mollymauk:

Mollymauk doesn’t care about your shit. Everyone hides something and as long as those secrets aren’t a danger to those around you it’s all fine. Though he can’t deny being a bit curious when you snuck off to burn a suspicious stack of paper…. lighting the flame without tinder, flint and steel, or anything.

The next few weeks involved Molly trying to get you to use magic again, asking you to do small tasks much easier to complete with magic than they would be manually. You didn’t budge. Somehow he couldn’t get you to do anything. You’d complete the task the hard way each and every time. He began to wonder if he might have imagined the whole thing.

He spent the whole night tossing and turning until he decided to give up on sleep and just face you with the question to be done with it. You were gone, the light of a fire a bit away from the rest of the group. He found you watching the flames, tears in your eyes and devoid of all emotion. He’d seen Caleb in a similar state before. That’s when it hit him. This was pain, fear and trauma and you’re disassociating to get through this.

Sitting down next to you he’d place a hand on your shoulder, when you don’t stop him he’d wrap it around your shoulder letting you know he’s here for you when you need him. His views don’t change. Everyone is entitled to their secrets and keeping their lives to themselves. If you want to talk, he’s here but he’d accept your silence too despite his curiosity. Luckily for his curiosity, you told him everything. The torments of the past and the family you lost, the pain you’ve caused countless others and how you’re trying to pay your penance and make right your wrongs.

You’re glad to have Molly at your side be that to cheer you up or listen to you. He’s there whenever you need him and will take no for an answer when you don’t want to talk about something. He won’t ask for further details but will do anything to show you you’re on the right path and leaving a place better than you found it when you can’t see it.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #critical role #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #caleb widogast x reader #caleb x reader #beau x reader #beauregard x reader #fjord x reader #veth x reader #nott x reader #jester x reader #caduceus x reader #yasha x reader #mollymauk x reader

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the-butterfly-blues · 3 years

Text

The Benevolent Prophecy

Chapter One

A Reader x The Hobbit Characters

Adjusting can be very difficult when thrown into a completely different world filled with Elves, Wizards, and other magical beings. Sometimes, the weight of change can become a little too much.

The first few weeks are slow and restless as [Name] tries to adjust to her new reality, hoping and praying that one day, she would wake up and be back home. No one but Elrond would talk with her as the other elves truly didn't like how different she was, prophecy or not, and Lindir stayed to himself most of the time.

Everything had changed. She was no longer in the forests of her hometown, her home disappearing with it all. Now, she lives with elves, learning to speak one of their languages while also being educated about the dangers she will surely face.

"My Lady?"

Looking up, she's shaken out of her thoughts by Lindir. The elf had noticed her anxiously hunched form in the far corner of the garden. Not many would venture this far in at such an early part of the day as they have their duties to worry about. Lindir, knowing this, on some days would take time to read for an hour or two without anyone around, enjoying the empty garden.

"Huh? Oh, Lindir. Hi. Am I- Do you normally come out here? Is this your seat? I'll gladly-"

"You can stay."

The anxious elf couldn't help but notice her around the valley, spotting her as they pass by each other. Nor could he not help but notice the rude words of some of his colleagues that are directed towards her. No matter where one went, there would always be people that wouldn't accept them, and here is no different.

"Thanks. I just need a few more minutes, then I'll be out of your hair."

Taking a seat on the opposite end of the bench, he tries his best to focus on the book he holds, but he can't seem to do so. Though the two had rarely spoken to each other outside of her studies, he's worried for her as her demeanor had drastically changed.

"Are you okay?"

He slowly questions, not wanting to step over any kind of boundary. Looking up from the ground, she moves her gaze to him with a small, tight-lipped smile.

"Honestly, no, but thank you, darlin'."

With that, she takes her leave, only further worrying the elf. Through the weeks, he had never seen her act like that. She always managed to smile, the showing of pearly whites being enough to calm his anxious self whenever Elrond would ask him to help her in learning Sindarin. Concerned for the young woman, he speaks with the Lord of Rivendell, knowing that he could handle the situation better than he ever could.

Taking Lindir's words into account, Elrond pays closer attention to her. The prophecy mattered to him, but her wellbeing means even more after coming to know her. She truly is kind and deserves more than everything she's been dealt. He's quick to notice the look in her eyes had changed to a more dulled one and her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. After another lesson on language and herbalism, he gently confronts her about the change in her demeanor. He's met with silence as she looks down at the notes she had taken in order to study later.

"My Lady-"

"Please don't call me that.. I'm no 'Lady', Elrond. I’m a small town farmer and ranch handler. Nothing more.”

"Lindir and I are only worried for you. I cannot imagine what you may be going through, but know that you are not alone."

Minutes pass as Elrond places a comforting hand on her own, tears falling from her eyes at the contact.

"It's painful being pulled away from everything you know. It's not that I don't want to fulfill this prophecy, especially if it means helping people for the right reasons, but I want to go back to the things I know."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, but it means a lot that you asked."

Pulling her hand out from under his, she stands to put the books back in their rightful places, Elrond following to help her.

"I might not be okay right now, but I promise that I will be. Thank you for talking with me."

"Of course. I will be here for you whenever you need me."

"And I to you, my Lord."

Smiles are shared between the two before they both head their separate ways, the Lord having to take care of some papers while [Name] takes this time to find the only other elf she ever really spoke with. The talk she had with Elrond, though small, had put a pep in her step, her worries calming slightly at the thought of having someone to confide in.

"Lindir!"

Spooked out of his reading, he nearly drops his book, causing her to laugh lightly. She knew that he hadn't been there earlier that morning, so he would choose to read a chapter or two in the fading light of the calming garden.

"I didn't mean to scare you there.”

Plopping down on the bench next to him, her smile never fades.

“Elrond dropped a hint that you talked to him about me. I wanted to thank you for that. I don’t feel great, but definitely a little better than before.”

Not letting him say anything about the situation, she’s quick to ask him about the book in his hands. Their conversation starts slow, but Lindir soon gets into the flow, happily sharing details that he likes about his current book and even ones before it as they sit there till the moon rises.

#the hobbit x female reader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #lord elrond #elrond #elves #lindir #rivendell #x reader #x female reader #female reader insert #reader insert #The Benevolent Prophecy

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daydream-believin · 3 years

Text

What About the Smaller Picture (2)

Summary: Merlin knows best. And what he feels is best for you and Douxie right now is to sit around and wait for him to come back from New Jersey, Merlin-knows-when. (2) Your first day in Arcadia, it sure is something. (1) - (3)

Warnings: swearing, proofing is for nerds

Word Count: 2211

a/n: i hope to be able to make you feel the awkwardness radiating off of every part of this series

Hisirdoux’s special welcome tour didn’t exactly do its job of making you feel welcome. You supposed that was more of a problem with you than the town. It definitely wasn’t of any fault of Hisirdoux’s. If anything, he was being a little too warm. It almost felt fake.

People appeared to like Hisirdoux. All across town, he would greet friends, introduce you to them. Kinda like he was showing you off. You did not know what for. He barely knew you, yet he talked about you like you were an old friend returned to him. Like he was proud of you or something. You supposed he was establishing a cover story. And you weren’t sure why. Why not just say you were new in town? What tracks was he trying to cover here.

You stopped paying too much attention to what Hisirdoux was telling others about you. He was telling them that he cared for you. That he missed you. It was a lie, sure. But just hearing those words come out of someone else’s mouth were making you melt. It had been so long that it was hard for you to recall the last time a person said such nice things about you. That was sad. You supposed the blush on your face did good to add to the story he was telling. Made it more believable. You felt really pathetic that this guy you barely knew lying through his teeth about you was actually making you blush as if it was real. As if anyone really thought those nice things he said about you in real life. Man that’s really sad. Moving on.

The town itself looked a little rough. Like it had seen better days. It was apparently a hub of magic, so it probably had. A lot of the damage you saw looked very recent though. That made sense. The whole reason you wound up here was because you befriended a girl traveling with a pack of trolls migrating from this very town. When asked why they were migrating, Claire, the girl, had told you that their home had been destroyed in a recent battle. “The Eternal Night” they called the battle. You, of course, knew about such eternal night. You had heard of the prophecy, you just didn’t expect it to happen in your lifetime. And you may had freaked out just a tad when it came along earlier that month, the unexpected solar eclipse confusing you and your studies before you figured out what was happening. However, you had assumed the battle took place underground, you know, cause trolls. The town you explored with Hisirdoux told a different story. At one point you saw a troll walking by, under an umbrella, following a red-headed human woman with a baby in her arms. And the locals didn’t seem to care. No one batted an eye. Strange town.

What really baffled you though was what happened later in the day, back at the bookstore, when you cast a simple spell. Nothing too flashy, just a little levitation on a book Hisirdoux had sent you to find up on a high shelf you couldn’t reach. When he saw you, Doux made a really panicked gasping sound. He threw himself in front of you, shielding you from the people who were not even there, startling you, and throwing off your focus. The book landed on both of you with a thunk.

“You can’t do that,” his voice was hushed despite you two being the only ones in the shop at the moment, “It’s business hours. The mortals don’t know about wizards and they shouldn’t see magic,” he stressed.

“But- uh,, They look just fine with the trolls?” Confusion was written across your face.

“That’s different. It’s different. Look, the situation is weird, okay,” He made a little X with his hands. “But I can’t have you casting spells around the shop. Or in public, period. The mortals can’t see anything, okay?”

“Okay, okay. My bad. I won’t do it again- Promise.” Your face was hot with embarrassment. This was your fault for assuming. Fuck, he probably thinks you’re a wild card now or something. Not a good start to your professional life here. Or your relationship with this Adonis who’s reprimanding you.

“While there are some other wizards around town that I’ll introduce you to tonight, to stay safe, generally just keep the magic for when we’re alone and out of sight.”

“Oh, yeah, uh- Okay”

He grinned. Suddenly, he leaned in, catching you off guard. “It can be a special thing,” His voice was even softer as he was so close to you, “just between the two of us.”

Oh. So he meant when just You and Him were alone and out of sight. Ooookaaaayyyy. He winked to you as he separated himself from your side, and went off to the back of the store to continue unpacking a shipment he had just got in. He left you there, clutching that damn book to your chest, face now hotter than before, if that was even possible at all. Oh no.

Fuck, it was fucking day one. Day one! Day fucking one and you were developing a crush. NOPE. This was not something you were going to do. Uh-uh. Nein. There was no fucking time for this. Well, you didn’t really know how much time you had with Merlin and his addiction to being perceived as mysterious or whatever the hell was wrong with that asshole you worked for now, but the point is you did not have time for this! Hisirdoux was too much. Merlin really should have had the decency to warn you that he was hot. This wasn’t fair. Not only was Doux beautiful, but he was a touchy person. You weren’t going to stand a chance.

The thing is you had been sooo worried about how you and Hisirdoux were going to get along, you even brought up the concern to Merlin. To be honest, you had thought the old wizard to just be annoyed at your worrying, and that’s why he reassured you it’d all be fine. That you and Hisirdoux would get along swimmingly or whatever just get out of my hair kid. You were so afraid Hisirdoux would have to warm up to you like a cat being introduced to a new kitten. Afraid that he’d resent you since you were technically Merlin’s apprentice too now in a sense. And he was used to being number one, no one else to compete with for Merlin’s sparse pride since Morgana went astray. Merlin assured you Hisirdoux was very friendly. But like, would it kill the geezer to give you a warning that he’d be too friendly.

While you were having your little crisis, Douxie was humming along to the song in his head, stacking up the new books onto a display, trying his absolute dilly darndest not to think about what just happened. What he did. That wasn’t weird, right? Oh fuzzbuckets, he did something weird. He was just so used to playing up the flirty persona he’d developed he hadn’t even stopped to think about if he’d be making you uncomfortable. And he really wanted you to be comfortable. Plus, he felt pretty guilty he had to stop your tour around town to go accept a shipment he forgot. Strangely, he was really concerned about the impression he was giving you. Caring about what another person thought of him was not very in character for him. Not counting Merlin, of course. He was going to have to make this up to you. He really needed you to think he was cool. For professional reasons, of course. Definitely.

~ ~ ~

“SO! I recommend the steak because it’s the least disgusting thing on the menu.”

You gaped at the wizard sitting across from you in this sticky booth, peeping your head over the kitschy French-themed menu you held. He had no menu. In fact he refused to even touch it. Great. What did he know.

“I- What do mean ‘least disgusting’, Casperan.” You were almost afraid to ask.

“I mean that kitchen is filthy and the steak is your best bet for something edible.”

“Why. Why would you bring me here if the food is terrible.”

You were always weary of greasy chain restaurants, but you had expected this one to be at least a little decent, since it was a smaller Cali chain and Hisirdoux had fucking brought you to it your first day in the town. Surely he was kidding.

“I just wanted to show you where I worked nights. So you’d be able to find me easier if there’s any trouble. Besides, you can’t say you’ve been to California if you haven’t had Mr. Benoit’s. It’s like In-N-Out burger. Remind me to take you to an In-N-Out burger later this week.”

You blinked. “Oh – uh, okay.”

Hisirdoux continued, “I can’t have my phone turned on during my shifts so you’ll have to come get me directly if it’s a big enough problem. Make up an emergency. Are you good at improve?”

You looked around the restaurant, getting a feel for its layout, taking notice of where the kitchen and back doors were located, making mental notes of all exits. “Ah, well, I’m good at lying, if that’s what you’re asking…”

“Good enough.”

The waiter came to take your orders. Hisirdoux shared an inside joke with him. It should have been awkward, them laughing away at something you didn’t understand why you sat there quietly, but you were a little too fixated on how pretty Hisirdoux looked when he laughed. It was mesmerizing. The waiter took your order. You got the steak.

~ ~ ~

It was very important for you to establish connections in Arcadia’s wizard underground. Or at least that’s what Hisirdoux thought. You weren’t particularly a social butterfly. It’s not that you didn’t like having a large group of friends or anything, you just never really had a reason to have one. And Doux was hell bent on introducing you to every person in this town in one day apparently. You had met twenty-three wizards in counting over the last hour being shepherded through this off-brand apple store. You had so far learned no names. How did he expect you to remember these peoples names. Scratch that. You knew one name. Zoe. Just because she was very annoyed at your and Hisirdoux’s presence in her workplace, and was very vocal about it. That being said, she didn’t make any real effort to get you to leave. You wished she would though. You were getting overwhelmed. Today had been incredibly stressful, with a lot of information to take in, and with only a brief rest when Doux was handling things at the bookstore. You wanted to go home. Geez, home. You realized that Hisirdoux had yet to show you home. Where was home.

You tugged on his hand to grab his attention. “Hey, I’m- uh – tired? Really tired. Can - can we go home?”

“OH. Yes! Home. Right away. Yes.”

Douxie possibly maybe had been avoiding home all day. It just, it wasn’t much. He had no idea how you were going to react. His space was small already without adding another person to it. Of course, it wasn’t any smaller than any of the one-room cottages that entire families used to share, but it was tiny for modern standards. Okay to be frank it was a back room. Not technically even an actual apartment. But it was his home. And now it was your home too.

Okay, so Hisirdoux lived in his bookstore. What was probably supposed to be a break room was his entire living space. It was… cozy. You set the backpack that carried everything you owned down on the floor and headed for the lumpy plaid sofa. It was nice and old, like a sofa should be. The plaid pattern covered any stains that might have been there. Hisirdoux sat down next to you, starting to fiddle with his hands. You looked around, took it all in. The was a kitchenette off to one side, a bed to the other side. The sofa was in the sort of middle ground. Notably, there was no table, barely any counter space, and various teacups on the coffee table, so it was a safe bet that he just ordered take out every night and ate it on the sofa. The twin bed was on the ground, and the quilts that covered it had visible holes. It struck you that this bed was the only one in the room. The one room.

“So I’ll take the sofa, until we get you a bed. I’ll, uh, figure something out with the space. We can put up curtains or something.” It was if he had read your mind.

You nodded, unsure of anything to add. This was,,,, going to be fun. A challenge. A test to see how long you can act normal while living in extremely close quarters with a funny medieval supermodel. Merlin help you. Something moved in the corner of your eye. You gasped.

“Kitty!”

“Oh, that’s Archie.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Talking kitty. How bout that.

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie x y/n #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #Douxie Casperan x reader #douxie casperan imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #tales of arcadia imagine #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #my writing #watsp

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malfoymanortings · 3 years

Text

to be so lonely

REQUEST FROM @gxvrielle : George Weasley x Reader. I wanted the reader to be a muggle who is best friends with Hermione and attends her Wedding with Ron. She meets the Weasley Family and can't help but grow interested in George.

this one definitely got away from me. i had to cut it a bit short at the end, but if there’s interest for part two, i got yall!

hope this is what you wanted! or, at least suffices.

“Millie, you absolutely cannot tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

The summer heat was beating down on the two young girls. One had a wild, unruly bush of brown hair. The other, the smaller of the two, had her long brown hair pulled back in two neat ditch braids. They sat side by side on swings, their feet dragging them to a stop. Hermione Granger and Millie Wilkins had been friends since they were in diapers, and had no plans of changing that.

Millie nodded, her big green eyes staring doefully at Hermione. The tone of her friend's voice was different than usual, and it seemed to set off an alarm in the back of her head. She couldn’t help but feel that something was changing, shifting.

“Y’know how I can.. Do things that you can’t?” Hermione began, waiting until Millie nodded before continuing. “I’m a witch, Millie.”

It seemed as though Hermione was waiting for Millie to yell, maybe cower in fear, or even run away from her. The caution that was written all over the bright young girl's face almost made Millie laugh, were it not for her astonishment at the revelation Hermione laid down in front of her.

“A witch?” Millie repeated in hushed tones. “Like… like Cinderella’s godmother?”

Hermione nodded vigorously, her curls flopping about wildly. “Yes, exactly! Well, probably not exactly, but.. Close enough.”

Millie nodded, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “How d’you know?”

Hermione’s brown eyes glittered wildly, and she launched into an animated recount of a woman named Professor McGonagall, who had come to her home and explained that she was a witch. Hermione would be attending Hogwarts in the coming school year, a special school for witches and wizards. She would need to get special supplies, like a cauldron and even a wand, in a place called Diagon Alley, which was only available for magical folks to enter.

A hard lump seemed to have settled in Millie’s throat, as she realized that her only friend, her very best friend, nearly her sister, would no longer be with her in their next school year. It appeared that the only time she would get to see Hermione would be during the summer.

It appeared that her world had shifted around on its axis. It was a lonely feeling, even with Hermione right beside her.

Ever the intuitive child, Hermione seemed to catch onto what Millie was feeling.

“Oh, Millie, I asked if you could come with,” Hermione’s nose scrunched, and her mouth twisted down. “But she said you’re a muggle. Muggles can't come to Hogwarts.”

Millie’s heart twisted painfully, but she mustered a smile for her best friend. “Well, that just means you’re going to have to tell me all about it next summer. Oh! Maybe you could write me while you’re away!”

Hermione’s eyes glittered with excitement, and she launched into a detailed account of Owl Post, which is what magical folk used to send mail. Millie was almost able to forget that things were changing, as she felt herself get swept away in the excitement of the wizarding world that she herself would never be part of.

Hermione’s departure soon after was full of tears and many sleepless nights for Millie. She felt out of place without her best friend, and found it difficult to find her place in her new school. Hermione was supposed to be here, and it was hard for Millie to adjust without her. She constantly found herself daydreaming about the mysterious Hogwarts, and wished more than anything she was with Hermione.

Millie found herself drawn to the world of crystals and tarot cards around her fourteenth birthday, much to the amusement of Hermione. Millie soon became almost an expert on the subjects, and she felt more at ease having found her own kind of “magic”.

Summer rolled around once more, and Hermione had many stories to tell Millie of her new friends Ron and Harry. It appeared that Hermione had found her place at her new school, and Millie was happy for her, as long as she ignored the twinge she felt at her best friend's adventures. There was also an awful little cockroach, Draco Malfoy, who was utterly disgusting to Hermione. Millie vowed if she ever ran into Malfoy, she would punch him dead in his face.

Time seemed to move fast, after that summer. Millie found a place in her school, and made a few friends, although none of them were like Hermione. She still waited anxiously for summer to come, so she could drink in all the magic of Hermione’s new world.

Of course, good things don’t last forever. Their summers began to be cut short, as Hermione was whisked away to her new friends, and Millie still knew Hermione well enough to know that the witch was hiding things from her.

Summers passed, school years came, and soon, Millie found herself ready to move onto university. She hoped she would see Hermione, one last time, before she left, but she didn’t hold much hope. Hermione had shared very little of her new life, but what she did share wasn’t positive. There was a wizarding war going on, and her best friend was in the thick of it.

It was a sweltering hot day, and Millie found herself lounging on her front porch, swinging back and forth on the swing as she re-read Pride and Prejudice. She loved romance novels, although she herself hadn't experienced anything of the sort. Of course, Millie had plenty of suitors, but none of them were right for her. She always had a reason, and excuse, but truthfully, she didn’t want something mundane. She was still captivated by the world of magic, and no “muggle” had yet measured up to what she wanted.

She had grown alright with the idea that she would forever be alone.

“Hello, Millie.”

The porch swing had stopped moving as another person sat next to her. Millie would know that voice anywhere. She placed her bookmark in the book, and set it down next to her. Turning her head, she saw Hermione Granger giving her a wistful smile.

She wore a pink jumper, and worn jeans. Her hair was as wild as ever, pulled back in a low pony. A stark contrast from Millie, who had jean shorts and a tank top on, her hair neatly pulled into a braid.

“Hermione,” Millie smiled, taking her friend in a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

Hermione smiled sadly. “I’ve missed you too.”

Their hug lingered for a few seconds longer than usual. Millie had a sense of foreboding grasp her, and she looked at Hermione sharply.

“I get the feeling that this isn’t a usual, ‘home for the summer’, homecoming, hm?” Millie raised her eyebrows, chewing her lip out of habit.

Hermione laughed humorlessly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “It’s not, no.”

Millie nodded, and the two girls sat in silence for a moment, swinging back and forth on Millie’s porch swing.

“I’m going to University soon,” Millie said in the silence, running her fingers along the rough worn wood of the swing. “It's a few hours away from here. My parents aren’t too thrilled about me moving so far away, but it’s what I wanted. I got Valedictorian, as well, although I’m sure it would have gone to you if you would have been here.”

Hermione smiled wistfully, taking Millie’s hand in hers. “I don’t know, I think my competition would have beaten me.”

Millie shrugged, enjoying the feeling of Hermione’s hand in hers. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“Remember how I told you about the war?” Hermione blurted abruptly, barely waiting for Millie’s nod. “It’s gotten a lot worse. Harry, Ron, and I have to go into hiding. I don’t know.. I don’t know if I’ll get to see you again, so I wanted to come say goodbye. I can’t stay long.”

Millie closed her eyes, feeling her heart thud in her chest. This was what she had been afraid of. Leave it to Hermione to make friends with the face of the Wizarding War.

“Be safe, Hermione,” the words came out funny, her throat was closing. “If you can, when it’s safe… find me. Goodbye, Hermione Jean.”

Hermione smiled sadly, and pulled her in for one more hug. “Goodbye, Millie Rose.”

Millie took one last look at Hermione, and when she blinked, she was gone. In her place, was a photograph the two had taken last summer. Hermione and Millie had each other's arms thrown over their shoulders, smiling and laughing. To her shock, they actually moved.

She gingerly took the photograph, holding it tightly to her chest. This was the last memory she may have of her best friend, and it was magic.

A few years passed, and Millie had graduated from University. Although she hadn't heard from Hermione, she had never stopped thinking of her friend. The magical photograph of the two of them stayed on her dresser as always, and she grieved the loss of her best friend as though she had lost a sister. It certainly felt as though she had.

Millie was able to get a job in her chosen field, primary education, and she was due to start next week. She had her own flat in London, decorated to her liking with hints of magic and literature hidden throughout it. Throughout her home, there were crystals of all different kinds and shapes. They were comforting to her, even if they weren’t wizard magic.

Although she had many good things in her life, she still felt as though she was incomplete.

It was the middle of the night when she woke up to the sound of something crashing in her living room. Her heart thudded, and her blood ran cold. She slowly got out of bed, pulling on her robe. She cursed herself for not having any sort of weapon, and settled for a rather heavy candle she had been gifted for receiving her new job.

“Honestly, Ronald, this isn’t how I would have liked to enter her flat, breaking her plant all over the floor-”

“Oh really ‘Mione, because breaking into her flat at two in the morning is such a good idea itself-”

Millie stopped in her tracks. She would know that voice anywhere.

Rushing into her living room, she flipped on the lights. Hermione Granger stood in her living room, arguing with a tall ginger man.

“Hermione-” Millie sputtered, unable to find words.

“Millie,” Hermione rushed forward, smiling widely as she gathered her into a hug. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Millie held onto her tightly, relishing in the smell of vanilla and gardenias that the young witch always smelled of. Hermione pulled away, a warm smile still on her face. Millie took note of the changes the young witch had. There was a thin white line on her throat, similar to the ones Millie had on her thighs. There were a few more worry lines on Hermione’s face, and although she looked tired, she also looked.. Free.

“Alright, Hermione,” Millie gestured towards her couch and began making her way to the kitchen. “You and your friend make yourselves comfortable, I’ll put on the tea.”

When Millie re-entered the living room with her tea tray, Hermione and the ginger were both sitting on the couch. The ginger had Hermione’s hand in his, his thumb rubbing smooth circles over her skin. Millie’s eyes widened in understanding, as she realized this must be Ron Weasley, the ginger Hermione always pined over.

“Well, Ron, it appears you finally got your head on straight,” Millie sniffed, sitting down in an armchair. “Poor Hermione didn’t think you’d ever find your sense and make it official.”

Ron’s mouth dropped open in shock, and Hermione laughed rather loudly, covering her smile with her hands. Millie smirked, taking her cup of tea and dropping three sugars inside.

“Oh, Millie,” Hermione shook her head, fixing her own tea. “I’ve missed you.”

They stayed up well into early morning, as Hermione finally told her all of the details she had withheld over the years. Everything with Voldemort, Harry, the war. Millie learned so many things that she felt she had no more room for new knowledge. By the time Hermione was done relaying everything, Millie’s eyes were heavy and she couldn’t stifle her yawns any longer.

“Oh dear, I’ve been keeping you awake,” Hermione shook her head, standing up. She flicked her wrist, and their tea dishes were cleared away. “Before we go, there’s one more thing I’ve got to ask of you.”

Millie nodded, in astonishment of the overt display of magic Hermione had given her. She had never seen her do anything like that.

Hermione glanced over at Ron, who had been admiring her the entire time. A blush coated her pale face, and she shook her head slightly as she looked back at Millie.

“I’m getting married, Millie, and I would love for you to be there as one of my bridesmaids.”

Millie hadn’t been expecting that, although she should have. It made sense, the way she and Ron interacted. “Of course, Hermione. I would love to.”

Hermione smiled brightly, and handed her a card with details on it. “I’ll have one of Ron’s brothers come for you, when it's time.”

Millie narrowed her eyes, looking down at the card. “Hermione, this says your wedding is in two days.”

Hermione nodded, looking bashful. “Yes, it took me longer than I would have liked for me to find you. Your parents didn’t live in our old neighborhood anymore.”

“Yes, I convinced them to move,” Millie said softly. “I wasn’t sure if they would be safe with.. Everything.”

Hermione nodded knowingly, a sad smile on her face. “I understand if you can’t make it.”

Millie shook her head. “No, I’ll be there. Just… not much time to look for a dress..”

Hermione scoffed, shaking her head. “Oh, Millie, please. I have one for you.” with a flick of her wrist, Hermione produced a shimmering pale pink gown.

Millie’s eyes widened in shock again at the magic, and she gingerly took the garment from Hermione. It felt soft, silky, and she instantly fell in love with it. “Thank you, Hermione.”

Hermione smiled, and gave Millie one last hug. “One of Ron’s brothers will be here to bring you on Saturday.”

Millie felt that Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. She would finally get to see Hermione’s wizarding life.

Saturday arrived both quickly and slowly at the same time.

Millie wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hair, so she settled on leaving it down in soft curls. She knew Hermione, so she didn’t bother doing much more than natural makeup. The pale pink dress clung to her curves in a shimmery, silky fashion, the top cut in a v shape that exposed her ample chest. She absently wondered if perhaps Hermione had enlisted someone else to pick out the dresses, as the color and fabric was the only thing that shouted Hermione.

Then again, it wouldn’t be far fetched to assume the girl -woman- had changed during the years apart.

At a quarter to noon, Millie sat perched on the edge of her couch. All Hermione had said was that one of Ronald’s brothers would be arriving to get her, and that seemed to be all the explanation she was going to be given.

A sudden shuffling from her fireplace alerted her to someone’s presence, and her heart leapt to her throat as, with a crash of dust and a flash of green, someone stumbled out from the hearth.

Millie gasped loudly, quickly picking up the first thing she could find- an Obsidian crystal tower with a rather sharp point. She brandished it towards the man that had arrived from her fireplace, but slowly lowered it as the red hair registered him to be Ron’s brother.

“Millie, correct?”

Millie nodded, lowering her Obsidian tower back to where it had been. The man was shorter than Ron, and burly, with a few tattoos peeking out from the sleeves of his black shirt. “Charlie Weasley, here to escort you to the wedding of the century.”

“Erm, alright,” Millie took a moment to center herself, nervously grabbing at the Amethyst crystal that was ever present around her neck. “How will we be..”

She trailed off, and Charlie gave her a warm smile. He reminded her of a giant teddy bear, and she felt her reservations slide away. “We’ll apparate.”

The word and definition came out from the recesses of her mind, a long ago conversation a much more naive Hermione and Millie had shared together while the latter had been drinking in any mention of the Wizarding world she could get.

Millie nodded, and rather awkwardly took Charlie’s arm that he extended towards her. “Hold your breath.”

An uncomfortable pulling began at her navel, and it seemed as though the world began to whip past them in a nearly unbearable speed. She could feel herself get nauseous, and as she felt her stomach twist, it all stopped. She would have fallen to the ground, had it not been for Charlie’s arm around her shoulders.

“Millie!”

Said girl swallowed hard, trying to rid herself of nausea. Hermione was rushing towards her, her wild hair tamed and pinned up in an intricate updo, light makeup on her face, completely out of place with the worn flannel button up and jeans she wore. An utterly Hermione combination, Millie thought with a smile.

“Gotta say, ‘Mione, love the outfit,” Millie teased, swallowing away the last bit of nausea she felt. “You’re missing something blue, and something new, however.”

Hermione tsked good naturedly and drew Millie in for a hug, pulling way to examine her childhood friend with an awestruck look. “Millie, you look so… Beautiful.”

“Oh please,” Millie waved away the compliment, blushing. “It’s just makeup. You, on the other hand… Stunning.”

Hermione beamed brightly, a new glow seeming to emanate from her face. A giggle escaped her lips, and Millie couldn’t help but notice the brunette seemed.. Different. Although, she couldn’t put a finger on it.

“I’m going to go find Luminita,” Charlie told Hermione, his face softening at the mention of whoever that was. He turned to Millie and gave her a hug, much to her surprise. “Nice meeting you, Millie.”

The two girls watched the redhead go off, and Millie turned to Hermione.

“Luminita is Charlie’s wife,” Hermione replied, smiling. “They met while he was training Dragons.”

“Dragons?” Millie questioned, but before Hermione could answer, she was interrupted.

“‘Mione, where’d you go?”

The two brunettes turned to see an utterly gorgeous redhead walk out from the oddly shaped house behind them.

“That’s Ginny, Ron’s sister, and my best friend,” Hermione explained quickly, smiling at Millie, noticing the flinch the other girl had at Hermione’s description of the beautiful girl. “At least, my Hogwarts best friend.”

Millie nodded, shoving her feelings of inadequacies away for a different time, and instead exchanged greetings with the exuberant redhead with a dry sense of humor. As she walked back into the house with the pair, she found it was easy to be in company with Ginny. She didn’t make her feel any less than the two of them, even though Millie knew she would probably be the only muggle there.

The house was suddenly thrown into a flurry of activity, and Millie found herself meeting many of the people she had heard stories of nearly her entire childhood. Arthur and Molly, Harry, Neville, Luna, Bill, and countless others that she hadn't heard of. It appeared that Hermione had delegated Harry to the task of leading her about and introducing her, as Hermione had her wedding to prepare for.

“So, this is the Burrow,” Harry explained a bit lamely, his eyes trailing back on Ginny, who disappeared into another room, presumably to follow Hermione. “We’ve spent a lot of our time here.”

“Yes, Hermione told me about that,” Millie smiled fondly, brushing one of her curls behind her ear. “The Golden Trio. I was always so jealous.”

Harry gave her a soft smile. “I think we may have been a bit jealous of you. Ron especially. You got to know Hermione first, before she became the brightest witch of our age.”

“Well, it’s interesting to know this,” she gestured around wordlessly. “Hermione Jean as well. Overwhelming, of course, but I always was fascinated by magic.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a voice she hadn't heard yet.

“Oi, Harry, Ron’s going barmy, can you come speak some sense to him?”

Harry looked at her regretfully, turning to the voice. “Course, George. Can you keep Millie company?”

“Ah, ‘Miones friend?” The tall ginger man walked towards them, his eyebrows quivering in interest. “Sure, mate. Just make sure my brother doesn’t bugger off.”

Harry clapped the man on the back, said goodbye to Millie, and hurried off to wherever Ron was.

Millie took that moment to look at the man before her, her eyes widening at how attractive he was. It was rare that a man caught her interest in such an intense way, but George was… different. She felt drawn to him, although she wasn’t quite sure why.

“Millie, right?” George questioned, his warm brown eyes staring at her green ones. His lips turned up in a smile. “I’m George. Ron’s older brother.”

“George…” Millie trailed off, the name pinging her memory. “Fred and George?”

The reaction that name gave George was instantaneous. His smile crumbled, replaced with a firm line. His fists clenched, and a muscle in his forehead twitched. It almost looked like he was going to be sick, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“I-I’m sorry,” Millie rushed out, wanting to place a hand on his shoulder but unsure if that would be the right response. “Erm, so, you’re Ron’s older brother, yeah? You guys sure seem to have an awful lot of siblings.”

He still had his eyes shut, and showed no sign of relaxing. She tried again, and began rambling in a way that should have embarrassed her, in a way that she only did with Hermione.

“I always wanted siblings growing up,” she watched his face carefully, waiting for him to show some sign of relaxing. “I had Hermione, and she basically was my sister. We basically floated between each other's houses, y’know? But I still had wanted my own sibling, my blood sibling. My mum tried, miscarried a few times. I didn’t mind much, because I had Hermione. But then she left.”

George seemed to be relaxing, and had opened his eyes. They were haunted. He nodded, in a way to urge her to continue.

“She left for Hogwarts, but we still had summers together.” Millie swallowed hard. “Then things got more complicated because of the war stuff you guys had going on. I was always so jealous of her, the magical world she got to be part of… But honestly, with everything she went through, I feel like I may have been lucky, to have been spared all of that hardship. Did you know muggles have their own version of witches and magic?”

The question seemed to have caught George off guard, and he clenched his fists and relaxed slightly, save for a furrow in his brow. “Yeah, card tricks.”

Millie laughed, an edge of relief mixing in. “No, more than that. Some muggles think that with intent and manifestation, certain things can be achieved. There are special stones as well, called crystals, that can help with that. There's different herbs too, which reminds me of Herbology that Hermione told me about. Even Tarot cards, which is like a form of Divination.”

George seemed almost taken aback by the onslaught of info she threw at him, and he blinked slowly. “Am I to assume that you participate in.. that?”

He didn’t say it in a degrading way, but she still felt a bit defensive and cursed herself as she blushed. “I… I do, yes. I’m wearing a crystal right now, it’s a rose quartz.” She pointed out her necklace, holding it out.

George reached out and took the small stone in his large hands, scrutinizing it. “It doesn’t feel much different from any old rock. It’s pretty, I suppose. What is it supposed to do?”

A blush coated Millie’s cheeks once more. “Erm, well. It’s a love stone. It, um. Opens the heart and increases self acceptance, it brings peace.. Helps with transitions, too… It basically helps in all facets of love, intimate or friendship.”

George blinked again, a small smile gracing his lips. “Are you finding it hard to find love, Millie?”

This time it was her turn to be caught off guard, and she took a moment to answer. George let the necklace drop back to her chest, and she didn’t miss the way that his eyes lingered on her chest. A thrill ran down her spine.

“Most people bore me.” She decided it was the easiest explanation, looking up to meet his gaze.

“I’m far from boring.” The words left his lips quickly, his brown eyes not wavering from hers.

She felt it again, that shock of electricity that seemed to emanate from George Weasley. She examined his face, a strong jawline and nose, with wide lips. A smattering of freckles across his face seemed to sharpen his features, disappearing underneath the smartly fitted suit he wore. His shoulders were wide, strong, and he was at least a head and a half taller than her. Even through the suit, she could tell he was muscular. And his hands… They were large and had almost a musical feel to them. She wondered, for a moment, if he played any instruments, muggle or magical.

Unbeknownst to Millie, George was drinking her in the same way she had done to him. It had been a long time since anyone, much less a girl, had peaked his interest. It had been exactly two years, three months, and seventeen days, to be exact.

Millie was short, something that had always been attractive to him. She was deliciously curvy, with wide hips and an ample chest. He had always liked bigger girls, and Millie was… exactly his type. She had long honey hair that brushed past the middle of her back, that fell in wonderfully soft curls he had to resist reaching out to grasp.

Her dark green eyes were framed by long lashes that seemed to sweep her cheeks when she ducked her head in a blush. Her hands were small, and he wanted nothing more than to hold his up against hers to revel in the size difference. Her lips were plump and paired perfectly with her ski slope nose, and carved cheekbones. He wondered what it would feel like to have her neck between his hands… and he had to stop his train of thought there.

“Georgie, good, you’ve met Millie,” Ginny appeared out of nowhere, startling the two out of whatever trance they had been in. “You two are walking together. It’s time to start, let's get going.”

The two looked away from each other suddenly, following the whirlwind that was Ginny Weasley. Each time their hands brushed, it felt electric, and Millie had never, ever, felt this way with anyone before.

They joined the rest of the bridal party, and Millie squinted as she tried to recall everyone that was there. The sun warmed their skin nicely, and they all arranged themselves in line and began their procession into the aisle, where they would eagerly await the appearance of the bride and groom. George held his elbow out for Millie, and she nearly jumped at the feeling she got when her arm as their arms interlinked. From the way George seemed to flinch, she wondered if he had felt it too.

Ginny and Harry led the way, with George and Millie following. Next came Neville and Luna, then Bill and Fleur, Percy and Angelina being the final ones to walk the aisle. Charlie was officiating the wedding.

As the music started up, and Ron was led down the aisle by his father, Millie couldn’t help but wonder who, exactly, would give Hermione away. Her parents were in Australia, forever addled by the memory charm the young witch had been forced to throw upon them. She couldn’t imagine who Hermione picked to replace them.

Hermione wore a beautiful white gown that bore a striking resemblance to the one Millie recalled seeing Cinderella wear. It was a story she and Hermione had been captivated with growing up, and when Hermione and Millie caught eyes, Hermione gave her a wink, and Millie nearly laughed. Of course, Hermione would have gotten Cinderella’s gown for her wedding.

Millie didn’t recognize the person leading Hermione down the aisle, but she was a tall, slender, formidable old woman, who had an undeniable air of authority around her. She had a soft look on her face as she walked Hermione towards Ron, and Millie could have sworn there was a tear in the corner of her eye.

“Thank you, Minerva.” Milie just barely heard the words leave Hermione’s lips.

The woman, Minerva, gave Hermione a swift hug before returning to her seat. The ceremony began, and Millie found herself staring at the people around her. Everyone here… they were Hermione’s chosen family. It nearly took her breath away to finally see them for herself.

Her eyes kept wandering to George, and each time she looked at him, he was already looking at her.

The ceremony ended rather spectacularly, with cheers of joy and hollers breaking out around them. Ron wrapped Hermione up in his arms, kissing her like she was the last woman on Earth. Millie’s heart swelled for her best friend. She had finally gotten her happy ending. Hermione deserved it more than anyone Millie knew.

Magical folk definitely knew how to throw a party. The backyard of the Weasley’s burrow transformed into a reception area complete with a dance floor, music, fireworks, and plenty of drinks and food that Millie hadn’t heard of before. She mingled with the people she had met prior to the ceremony, aside from George. She wasn’t sure where he had gone. It seemed as though after the vows were said and done, he disappeared into the crowd.

After an hour or so, Millie found herself slightly overwhelmed and needed a break. She grabbed a bottle of Butterbeer, that of which Hermione assured her actually contained no alcohol, and she wandered off to the edge of the property. Away from the crowd of people, she leaned against a tree, taking a deep drink from the Butterbeer. It was surprisingly good, and she laughed as she almost felt irritated that Hermione had never shared this with her.

“What do you find so funny?”

Millie nearly jumped, looking up to see George in the tree above her. “Oh my goodness, I had no idea you were there!”

George jumped down, landing rather gracefully for someone of his height. “Seriously, what did you find so funny?”

Millie gestured to her drink. “Just thinking that this is pretty good, and how I’m almost irritated that Hermione never brought this home for me to try. With everything I had to miss out on, it feels like this could have been one thing I got to share with her.”

George laughed, although it appeared to be humorless. “There’s a lot of things I wish I could share with someone who is no longer here.”

Millie cocked her head at George, waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t seem as though he was going to, until suddenly, he ran a hand down his face and pulled a wand out from his pocket. Flicking his wrist, he conjured up a swing that hung from the tree, reminiscent of the one she had at home. He sat down, and motioned for her to sit with him.

“Just let me get out what I have to get out, and then comment, alright?” George asked, waiting for Millie to nod. She did, and he continued.

“Fred was my twin brother. We did everything together, always have. Towards the return of Voldemort, we opened up our jokeshop. It was super successful, just as we thought. We fought against Voldemort with our family, we fought during the final war, and Freddie… Freddie didn’t make it. It's been two years, three months, and seventeen days without him, but sometimes I wake up and I feel like he’s still there with me, and I’ll rush to go tell him something, but then… he’s not there. And I remember it all over again. When things like this, a wedding, happens, it’s harder. Because Freddie should be here, giving a speech about how we tried to make Ron’s name a taboo, or how we gave him a fear of spiders by turning his teddy bear into one, or how we burned a hole in his tongue with an acid pop, or just… anything embarrassing, because that was our job. And now, without Freddie, it’s pointless. Everything feels pointless.”

Millie waited for George to continue, but it seemed he was done for now. She felt her heart twist for the redhead beside her, and she placed her hand over his.

“I’m so sorry, George,” she said sincerely, watching as George swallowed hard. “I can’t imagine how that feels. I wish that I had the right thing to say, but there really isn’t one. I could go on about how it wasn’t fair and it was senseless, but you already know that. I think all I can say is that you are incredibly strong and although I didn’t know Fred, I’m sure he’s proud of you for making it without him. He’ll be waiting for you, when it’s your time. And then you can tell him about all the havoc you caused without him.”

Again, George swallowed hard, and he turned to Millie with a sudden urgency on his face. He gently placed a hand on her cheek, brushing a curl out of her face. His gentle brush felt like fire on her skin. His eyes flicked from her lips to her eyes, almost like a question.

Millie leaned forward, shutting her eyes, feeling his lips connect with her own. It was like fire, she was almost surprised that there wasn’t a flurry of electricity around the two of them. She hadn’t felt anything like this before in her life, and she reached a hand up to tangle her hands in his wild red hair.

His own large hands roamed around her neck, and down to her sides, his thumb brushing against the side of her breast. She moaned softly in his mouth, surprising even herself. He trailed his hand down further, stopping to rest on her thigh, his fingers gently massaging her skin through her dress.

Their lips parted, and George rested his forehead against hers. Millie felt her head swimming, and took a steadying breath, breathing in the scent of cinnamon that seemed to come from George.

“I think,” George murmured softly, clearing his throat. He pulled away slightly, reaching one hand up to cup her cheek, the other still on her thigh. “I think I may have underestimated you, in a way.”

“How so?” Millie asked, her heart thudding in her throat. What could he mean by that?

“You’re going to be far more important to me than anyone has ever been.”

Before she could respond, George stood, and held a hand out to her. She took it, a bit unsure, and he pulled her up from the swing, keeping her hand in his.

“Care for a dance, beautiful?” He asked, a crooked grin on his face, and Millie broke into a smile as she nodded.

His hand felt so wonderful wrapped around hers.

The two re-entered the party, which had only slightly begun to die down. George and Millie found a place for the two to dance with, and continued conversation.

“So, that thing around your neck is a crystal?” George asked, twirling Millie around in a circle to the fast paced song Millie didn’t recognize.

Millie nodded. “There’s other ones, of course.”

“Like what?” George asked, a smile on his face. “Tell me your favorite.”

“If I had to choose one, it would be Amethyst,” Millie replied thoughtfully, blushing as George rested a hand on her hip. “Although, Smokey Quartz is a close second.”

“What do they do?”

“Well, Amethyst is a calming stone, and it just balances everything out. I usually wear it everyday, unless I feel compelled to wear a different one, which is rare,” Millie supplied. “Smokey Quartz helps get rid of negative energies, and helps with organization. I’m always so disorganized.”

“It’s a good thing I’m a fairly organized person,” George winked at her. “What are your plans for tonight?”

“Nothing beyond going home,” Millie replied sadly, reality seeping into the rather magical night she had had. “I start a new job on Monday.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I just got my teaching credentials, so I’ll be teaching primary come the school year,” Millie smiled, her face softening. “For the summer, I’ll be teaching early childhood.”

“Little kids?” George questioned, smiling when she nodded. “Well, perhaps sometime soon you could come by my jokeshop. In Diagon Alley.”

Millie nearly shouted with excitement. “I could go to Diagon Alley?”

George grinned, nodding. “I think I could arrange that.”

Millie hugged him tightly, not even thinking twice. George didn’t hesitate, he wrapped the shorter girl in his arms, vowing to himself that she would experience magic for the rest of his life.

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