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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

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THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part II/VII)

"candy floss"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @leovaldez37 @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: grief, feels, brief mention of Fred x Reader ig?

A/N: I decided to name the parts bc why the fuck not so keep an eye on the titles 👀. This story is based off this convo and these headcanons. If you wanna be tagged in the next parts tell me, and enjoy <3

Prologue :the aftermath

Part I : sleepless nights

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The moment the last group of customers decided it was time to call it a day and exited the shop, I left the till counter and grabbed my wand from my pocket, instantly turning the sign in the door so it could be read from outside 'closed'.

A sigh escaped my lips as I leaned against the multicolored wooden rail.

I was drained.

The shop helped our minds to get distracted and stray from the grief, yes, but it was also exhausting.

We had been subconsciously overworking ourselves to the point where it was borderline self-destructive.

It didn't help that I was throwing myself into comforting George, either. I could not be blamed for doing that, though; he was broken.

A part of me, the rational one, knew he would pick up the pieces and build himself up again, it would just take a lot of time.

There was another part of me, though, that depressed, drained part, that was beginning to think he would never heal by himself —maybe he wouldn't heal at all— but still held onto the hope that, if I tried hard enough, I would be able to mend what had been broken in him.

A terrible idea, really, because I started to dismiss in its entirety my own miserable, damaged state.

And George, ever the caring, sensible one, would have noticed that; he would have made me realize I was not doing nearly as well as I thought, he would have talked some sense into me, but he wouldn't— he couldn't, because George was lost in an ocean of grief, trying so hard not to drown that he wasn't able to notice I was trying to aid him from my very own sinking boat.

It also seemed to be working; he was more animated, slept more soundly, and his smile was a bit brighter even —at least the one he had for me.

"Rough day?" My eyes, which I didn't know I had closed, fluttered open at George's voice.

"Very."

He walked to me with a tinge of guilt in his face. "You know we can switch places, right?" I had been working as the public face of the shop since we had reopened, and George had taken on the task of doing the paperwork and shippings instead, showing up from time to time to help me and to let people know there was still a Weasley running the business.

I had been the one to suggest this, since I knew George had compromised with reopening only because of me, and he was clearly not ready to put up a sociable, positive attitude for dozens of people every day.

"Nah, it's fine like this." I assured him with a reassuring smile.

He measured me with his eyes for a second; I couldn't really tell if he saw through me or not. "So I was preparing the today's shippings," he rocked a tiny purple basket I quickly recognised in front of me. "I found this in the back of the stockroom."

"Are those—?"

"Candy floss cupcakes, yes." A year and a half ago we had bought five baskets of candy floss cupcakes from Honeydukes per George's request in order to unsuccessfully try and implement them.

"Are they even edible anymore?" I couldn't help but laugh.

"I hope so?" He chuckled too, tearing the film covering the sweets. "Thought we might as well finish them."

My eyes travelled from the basket to him and viceversa before stating, "well I'm hungry so..."

"Same here." He was the first one to pull out a pastel colored cupcake, though he handed it to me. "Wanna get food poisoning together?" Laughing, I gave him a nod as he grabbed his own cupcake. "At the count of three?"

"One"

"Two"

"Three." We said in unison right before taking a bite of our respective madeleines.

I frowned at its surprisingly good flavour. "Am I delirious or are they actually edible?"

"Dunno," he shoved the rest of his cupcake into his mouth with a shrug. "maybe we're just starving."

"Go big or go home, I guess." I finished my cupcake before leaning on the basket to pick another one. My head snapped up with my brow quirked when I heard a soft chuckle. "What?"

"Nothing." George shook his head, motioning at the stairs. "Shall we sit down?" I followed his lead, sitting on the stairs and waiting for him, who had stepped towards the drinks aisle to grab a couple of juice bottles, to do the same.

We stayed there, eating and drinking in a comfortable silence until the basket was empty and our eyelids threatened to shut.

"I think we should head back to the flat." He spoke, leaving the half empty juice aside so he could stretch.

"I'm gonna learn how to cook." I stated, getting up. "We can't get by based on most likely expired sweets and whatever is in the Leaky Cauldron menu."

"Aight." He mimicked my actions, picking up the stuff we left on the stairs. "We will learn the basics tomorrow." He got behind me and began to gently push in the flat's direction. "But now we're gonna get some sleep, miss."

I would be lying if I said my heartbeat didn't pick up when his hands landed on my shoulder blades and made their way to rub both my arms reassuringly.

I would be lying if I denied I leaned back when he did that, letting myself get closer to his chest.

And I would definitely be lying if I said I didn't crave going back to my room so I could cuddle him all night.

One Week Later

"—right in the cauldron, love." I pointed at the cauldron besides me, giving a sweet smile to the kid in front of me, visibly going to be sick thanks to the free sample of Skiving Snackboxes.

"Y/n!" I spun around at the loud calling of my name above the shop's racket. I was able to discern a long, red mane flowing fast towards my position right on time for the owner to wrap her arms around me.

"Glad to see you too, Ginny." I laughed, trying not to lose balance due to her enthusiasm. "How come you're here?" I questioned, pulling away.

"We heard you were open." Harry walked up to me, appearing from behind the girl, "And thought we'd pay a visit to our friends, right?" Ginny nodded, looking around while Harry gave me a quick, yet comforting hug. "Where's George?"

I motioned up to the small office, redirecting the couple's eyes to the second floor. "Doing paperwork—AH!" I jolted when a pair of hands tickled my sides, my head snapping to see the towering ginger standing behind me. "Speaking of the devil."

"I thought I saw Gin through the window," George explained, his hands lingering on my waist for long enough to his sister to stare, before pulling Ginny into a tight hug. "And came down to check if she was distracting my employee."

"You got her all bored here, mate." Harry pointed out, a light joking tone in his voice.

"And you're the one supposed to help with that?" George rolled his eyes dramatically. "Pfft... What a world we live in." With the said, he gave the boy a side hug. I heard Harry murmur an 'We missed you' before they pulled away with a pat on the shoulder.

My gaze landed on the youngest Weasley, whose welled up eyes were trained on her older brother's half smile. I only averted my eyes and waited for her to discreetly wipe away the unspilled tears while Harry and George catched up.

By the letters she had sent me, I reckoned the last time she had been near George, he had been lifeless; seeing a glimpse of who was once one of the most cheerful, funny and charismatic people in her life, was probably poignant to Ginny.

I hadn't realized she had moved closer until I didn't hear her soft voice. "Thank you." I offered her a confused smile, though deep down I knew what she meant.

Two Days Later

George was having one of those days.

We both knew it was coming soon; it had to happen sooner rather than later, since he had been in a surprisingly good mood for almost a week. I suspected seeing Harry and Ginny had brought back the events of the Second of May.

I suggested to close the shop for the day, since he was unable to move out of bed; he refused to do so, but I convinced him to stay in the flat and rest —it was Tuesday, anyway; I wouldn't have to handle many customers.

Due to that, when I saw Hermione, Ron, Bill and Fleur entered the shop, it was understandable that I hadn't become the happiest person in the world.

I greeted them, there were hugs, kisses, and even a joke or two, and when Bill asked about George, I excused him without giving much detail.

They understood.

Fleur was the one to restart the conversation, lightening a bit before requesting a tour for the shop, since she had not yet been there.

It was when we reached the love potions that Hermione, using the fact that Fleur was very much interested in the product, held my hand and pulled me aside.

"So... how are you doing?" The frown in her face, the fact that she was whispering, the squeeze her hand gave mine, let me know she had read me the moment her eyes met mines.

I sighed with a shrug.

"You can tell me." Could I? "No one's asking you to put on a happy face, Y/n." The girl assured me, her eyes digging into mines. "It's not just George, we all lost—" she shook her head at her own words before correcting herself. "you lost him too."

I lost him too.

I bit my lower lip to stop it from quivering.

The memory of Fred's broken smile as his corpse laid on the stretcher, that memory that haunted my dreams, appeared vividly before my eyes.

My lips started to burn with the ghost of that kiss he gave me before we split up, him with Percy and me with George; it hadn't been meant to be a goodbye kiss. It was meant to be a good luck kiss.

I covered my mouth to muffle a sob, and Hermione's arms were quick to be wrapped around me, reassuringly rubbing my back.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

I saw them entering from Y/n's balcony; I wasn't emotionally ready to face them all at the same time, but when I didn't see them exit, I figured Y/n hadn't been able to dismiss them.

I decided I owed to them all to bite the bullet, so I threw on a shirt and the first trousers I grabbed, cleaned up a bit and left the flat.

With a deep breath, I made it to the second floor and mentally prepared myself to go down to the first one.

As I began to climb down, though, I noticed Hermione and Y/n talking in private, closer than the others to the stairs.

I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but all my senses were automatically focused on Y/n whenever we were in the same room; she just stole me away from reality.

"You lost him too."

Hermione's words visibly triggered something on Y/n.

'Something', as if I didn't know what they had triggered, as if I didn't know what— who was on her mind.

I guess he was always on her mind, though.

What was left of my heart shattered in a million pieces when she broke down to tears —for several reasons—. "I miss him." She whispered in Hermione's shoulder. "I miss him so much."

If I had any tears left, I would have cried my eyes out right there. Had I been so selfish that I had disregarded how she was feeling? So blinded by the light and love and warmth she was constantly giving me that I had forgotten about her grief? Was I that bad of a person, that I would have rather live in the illusion that she had not lost the boy she was dating?

My mind told me I didn't want any of those questions answered.

"George!" As Ron yelled my name in surprise, Hermione and Y/n pulled away, the latter rubbing her eyes while both of my brothers jogged upstairs to hug me. "Ginny told us you're open—"

"But Y/n said you weren't feeling well." Bill finished, squeezing my shoulder. "We only stayed a little longer for Fleur to see the shop."

"Yeah, we'll come back tomorrow," Ron assured me. "So you can rest and..."

My brother's voice sounded further and further with each word; I felt myself drifting off, getting lost in my own mind and gravitating towards the same thought over and over.

She deserves better.

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phykios · 3 years

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i meant to have this up on friday but i didn’t bc i’m lame anyway, this is dedicated to my dearest dearest peyton 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙 one year ago last friday i had the distinct pleasure of sliding into her dms on discord, several fics and 72 separate aus later, here we are. so, for our friendiversary, have a sexy origin story for percabeth 😁

Say So, for @darkmagyk [read on ao3] rated E for sexual content (spicy!!! pls be advised!!!) cw: recreational drug use, experimental bondage, and an accidental hit during intercourse

“I don’t think it’s working,” Annabeth says.

“Just give it a minute.” Sofia sounds gone already, hazy and dreamy.

She gives it a minute.

“Am I supposed to feel something?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I’m not.”

“You gotta be patient,” says Jordan. Throaty and full, her already deep voice is even deeper, almost vibrating in the air.

Annabeth blinks. “Maybe they gave you actual grass. Or maybe I’m too much of a square for it to affect me.” Sofia snorts. “I’m serious. You know at my summer camp they started giving me counselor responsibilities when I was twelve? Percy always said I wouldn’t know what fun was if it hit me in the face. And it’s not like he was wrong, like I spent most of my childhood reading ancient Greek or learning how to use a knife but there were some pretty ridiculous extenuating circumstances and I really wanted this older boy at camp to like me, and why am I talking so fast?”

Masako giggles. “You’re stoned.”

“I am?”

“Stoned,” she confirms.

“High,” says Sofia.

“Intoxicated!” sings Jordan.

“Oh, wow.” She can feel every blade of grass beneath her, tickling along her bare legs, the wind caressing her face, the sounds of Berkeley--frat boys playing Ultimate, rush-hour traffic, a thousand different conversations about nothing and everything--muffled behind a glass wall. “I’m high.”

Sofia laughs. “How does it feel?”

“It feels…” She licks her lips. They taste like avocado fries and sunshine. “It feels like…” Slow. The turn of the earth so soft and gentle, like the tides in the lake when Percy is in a good mood. Like the liminal space between sleepfulness and wakefulness, when you’ve taken a nap and can’t remember what year it is. Like wading through a magical time spell, but warm. “You know what I mean?”

“Annabeth,” says Masako. “You didn’t say anything.”

“What?” She raises her head, looking over at her friend. Her eyes are closed, her hands running along the grass of the quad. “I didn’t?”

“Nothing.”

Annabeth lets her head fall back, thumping the earth. “Oh, theoi, I’m high.”

Overcome, Jordan starts laughing, curling onto her side. The rest aren’t far behind.

Soon they’re not laughing at her anymore, they’re just laughing to laugh. Laughter is fun, she realizes, her breath and blood whooshing through her body, every muscle and bone in her body united in one single pursuit of joy. Her eyes are squeezed shut, cheeks aching from the force of her smile, her body curled in on itself, wracked with euphoria.

Sofia giggles so hard she snorts, setting them all off again.

Wading through an onslaught of laughter, high and squeaky, Annabeth gasps out, “Why am I laughing so much?”

“Because you’re high, girl!” Jordan crows. She has turned herself over on her front, her face pressed against the grass. “Have you really never gotten high before?”

“Don’t tease her,” says Sofia, awkwardly patting Annabeth’s knee. “You know she hasn’t done anything.”

She has done stuff, she almost says--before she shuts her mouth with an audible clack.

“Not even at your camp?” Jordan asks, befuddled. Befuddled is a funny word. “No one ever snuck in some alcohol or whatever?”

Thoughts running at a snail’s pace, she has to seriously rack her brain to think if one of the Hermes’ kids ever brought in any illicit substances. Soda, minor monsters, the most powerful weapon ever created--but not any alcohol or marijuana. She thinks. “Our camp director was really strict about alcohol.”

“Lame,” says Masako.

“I mean, he was in recovery,” says Annabeth, her go-to story about Mr. D, just in case anyone ever asks. “It was a whole thing. He couldn’t have it, so we couldn’t have it.”

“Not lame,” she amends.

“Okay, I think,” she says, a memory appearing out of the fog, after Gaea, after all that nonsense, “I think my co-counselor Katie made some joints out of bay leaves once.”

The younger kids had gone to bed, sent off with a healthy dose of Clovis’ dream magic to ward away any nightmares, but the older campers had stayed up, huddled around the central brazier into the wee hours of the morning. Still so exhausted she could barely see straight, falling asleep on top of Percy, he had hauled her away to bed, but not before he had declined something for the both of them, something small and white and made to be smoked.

“You can get high off of bay leaves?” Sofia asks.

Annabeth nods. “That’s how the… the fucking…” the word was on the tip of her tongue. The thing that Rachel did. But long ago. Oracle! “The Oracle, she got high, in ancient Greece. With bay leaves. She’d smoke them and receive prophecy.”

Jordan lifts her head. “Cool. You got ancient Greek high.”

Annabeth nearly says something about Olympus, or maybe Blackjack, an amazing joke about being high and Greek just on the tip of her tongue, but she has just enough self control not to. “No, I was tired. Percy and I went to bed.”

“Laaaaaaaaame,” says Masako.

It’s just good-natured ribbing. And they’re all high as kites. But Annabeth still frowns. “I’m not lame.”

“You’re amazing, don’t get me wrong,” Masako says, “but you are so lame. You’ve never gotten high before, you’re probably going to marry your first boyfriend… you are so vanilla.”

“And we love that about you!” Sofia jumps in.

Annabeth can’t feel bad right now, but she can feel a little lost. “But I love Percy,” she says. “Why wouldn’t I marry him?”

Percy is perfect. He’s handsome and kind and powerful and funny and brave and handsome. He’s more than anyone could hope for. And he loves her.

“You’re really going to marry him?” Jordan asks. “Like, for real?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, but he says he can’t propose before he finds the perfect ring. He promised he wouldn’t make me wait too long. I don’t want to have Chase on my diploma.”

“Oh my god,” Masako giggles, “you’re even more vanilla than I thought.”

“The dick can’t be that good,” Jordan muses, examining a particularly long blade of grass.

It is, but they don’t need to know that.

Sofia snorts. “It is?”

Oh, fuck. Annabeth giggles. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Tell us!” Masako sits bolt upright, eyes wide. “Tell us everything!”

She slams her hands over her face. “Noooo,” she laughs, curling in on herself further. “I can’t.”

All at once, they scream, like the three Erinyes swooping down onto an unsuspecting prey. Or the Cabin Ten campers when someone gets too close with any stray ketchup.

“Spill!” they shriek. “Spill!”

No one has ever demanded to know the details of her sex life before. Even at camp, she and Percy are given a wide berth. Something about walking through Tartartus with your partner apparently takes your sex life from giggle-worthy to kind of intimidating. That’s the biggest difference between her demigod friends and her mortal friends, Annabeth is finding. Other than that, they’re pretty much exactly the same. “What do you want to know?” she asks, naively.

The floodgates open.

“When did you guys first do it?”

“Where?”

“How was it?”

“What does he like?”

“His abs though--”

“Is he good at head?”

“Favorite position!”

“His dick is big, I just know it--”

Over and over, overlapping, a whirlwind of questions, she can’t process them nearly as fast as they are coming--all she can do is laugh, breathless and airy, until they all dissolve into giggles once again.

She’s getting a little tired of this constant laughing.

Even that thought makes her start all over again.

“Okay,” she gasps, “okay, I can’t--I can’t answer all of those.”

Jordan waves her arms. “Me first! First time!”

Annabeth shrugs. “Um, it was… the weekend of Thanksgiving, a few months after we started dating. His parents were at a mixer for their writing group, and I was staying with them during my school break.” What else is she supposed to say? That they’d been talking about it for weeks? That Annabeth had been so excited she’d forgotten to even ask him about condoms? That Percy had been so concerned with making sure he got her off and didn’t hurt her that he’d spent almost an hour fingering her?

They squeal in unison. “His parents’ house!” Sofia gasps, hands on her face. “So scandalous! How was it?”

Annabeth blushes. “Amazing.”

And it had been, as amazing as a first time can be. Any person could only ever dream of having a partner as attentive and respectful as Percy for their first time.

“If he’s the only one you’ve ever had, how do you know it was that good?” Jordan asks. “I thought my first boyfriend was good, too, right up until I started dating Julie.”

“I think three consecutive orgasms counts as being good,” Annabeth drawls.

Once again, the screaming.

“Three?” shrieks Masako.

“Three.”

“Your first time?!”

“He was really really really concerned I wouldn’t get off!”

Sofia collapses on top of her, hands scrabbling for her shoulders, and always, always giggling. “You marry that boy--you marry him right now!”

“I’m trying!”

“And it’s still good?” Masako’s eyes are as wide as saucers.

Normally, she might be a little reluctant to share--even with Piper. The eighth of this edible, though, is certainly helping grease the wheels of conversation. “It’s always good.”

Jordan groans, throwing a handful of grass in her face. “Bullshit.”

“Always?”

She frowns, really thinking about it, trying to remember a time it was bad. It’s surprisingly really hard. “Sometimes we don’t have time for three orgasms.”

“How often do you fake it?”

“What do you mean?” Annabeth asks Masako.

“You know… fake it.”

“Why would I fake it? If I fake it, he won’t know I haven’t come yet.” She laughs, more than a giggle but less than a guffaw. It’s so silly. Whoever thought of faking an orgasm? “How would I even do that?”

“You’ve never faked it?” Sofia is incredulous, her jaw hanging open.

Annabeth sits up, flailing a little, reaching forward to touch her toes. Just because. “Of course not. Do people actually do that?”

“Sure,” says Masako. “Sometimes.”

“Why?”

“I hate you,” Jordan moans, “I hate you so much, you and your stupid sex god boyfriend who makes love to you every night like you’re in some trashy period drama with the…” Her hands come up, weakly making a wavy shape in the air. “The things. You know.”

Masako tilts her head. “Hoop skirts?”

Sofia pitches forward, hands coming flat on the grass. “Okay, Annabeth. Prove to us you’re not vanilla. Craziest place you’ve ever done it.”

All three girls lean in, now, expectant, hungry.

Annabeth frowns.

Where was the craziest place they had done it?

They’d done it a lot in the last few years. His apartment in the city, Cabin Three, her boarding school room…

Oh. Right.

She flushes.

They lean in even closer.

Well, she can’t tell them about the time they had sex in the temple of Neptune in New Rome, but she can tell them about--“One time, at camp,” she mumbles, playing with a shoelace, “we… Percy is in charge of the boathouse, because--because he’s so good at sailing, you know? So, one day, we both passed our chores off to a couple other counselors, then he took out one of the canoes, rowed us out into the middle of the lake, and…” She glances up, bashful.

Cue the screaming.

Annabeth covers her face with her arms, falling back down onto the quad.

“At your summer camp!” Masako cries, gleeful.

“My word!” Playfully kicking her ankle, Jordan pretends to fan herself, like Hazel still does sometimes when she’s startled by something really risque. “Imagine if the children had seen you!”

The children hadn’t seen them, but the naiads definitely had--and had tried to capsize them for their trouble. She hadn’t been able to do any lake-related activities for a week without getting soaked by a stray wave which, coincidentally, managed to avoid hitting everyone else.

“What else?” Sofia asks, practically vibrating. “Craziest kink!”

“Um…” She frowns, screwing up her face so she thinks extra hard. Have they… done anything kinky? They have sex a lot, yeah, and not always in their bedrooms, but other than that… “I… don’t… know…”

Sex with Percy is always amazing--that’s not a lie. But, maybe it’s gotten a little… same-y.

“Well, well, well.” Sofia slow-claps it out, her rings clinking together. “I think she’s ready for the big leagues, don’t you, girls?”

Through her fingers, Annabeth glances at her. “What do you mean?”

“Bondage.”

“Bondage?” She blinks. “Like, tying each other up?”

Annabeth doesn’t think she’s ever been tied up before. Well, except for the time she wanted to hear the Sirens, but Percy had left her with her knife, so that didn’t really count.

“Last time I met up with Skylar, we went back to his, and he has this old-timey bed frame, with the slats, right? So I took the belt from my dress, and--”

“Okay, okay,” Annabeth cuts in, covering her face again. “I get the point.”

Maybe her friends have a point. Maybe she is a little vanilla.

Sofia pats her knee. “Next time you guys have sex--”

“So, in like, three hours,” Jordan snorts.

“--take a scarf or a tie or whatever and tie his hands to the headboard. Trust me, he will flip. Out.”

Annabeth nods, taking mental notes. “Hands to the headboard. Got it.” She’s not sure if he even has any ties, but she’s resourceful. She can cobble something together. “And… then what?”

Sofia shrugs. “Kiss him. Do a striptease. Leave him there. I dunno. Whatever you want.”

Masako scrambles to her feet, windmilling to keep her balance. “The Bon Me truck just pulled up,” she gasps, “and I am starving.”

And thus, that particular conversation is over, thanks to the munchies.

***

Truth be told, she kind of forgets it pretty much entirely. Most of that day is gone, the finer details swallowed up in a haze of heat waves and peanut sauce.

That is, until New Rome’s annual pre-Saturnalia mixer: dress code, lighter side of formal. Whatever that means.

“Hey, babe?” Percy pokes his head in the bathroom, button-down half undone. “I need your eye for a second.”

She grunts around the bobby pin held between her teeth, sliding another one through some hitherto-unknown dimension to hold a curl in place.

“What do you think, this tie with this jacket?” He holds the two of them together, the black and white Greek key pattern contrasting nicely against the navy blue fabric. “Or will that cause an incident?”

“Probably an incident,” she says, slowly, slipping the bobby pin from her mouth. Then, a thought poking at the back of her skull. “How long have you had that?”

He glances at it. “The tie? Paul gave it to me for graduation.”

“That was nice of him.”

“I’m pretty sure he got it from the Met gift shop, but yeah.” All smiles, he slides the jacket on, tie crumpled in his balled fist. “You’re right, no tie.”

She grunts, noncommittal, gaze sliding away as she tries to remember… something.

“You good?”

“...Yeah,” she says, eventually. “Just spaced out for a second.”

“Alright. You about ready to go?”

She glances at her hair in the mirror, the makeup on the counter. “Give me twenty.”

“Sure thing.” Then he goes out, a few moments of silence passing before she hears the sink turn on as he takes care of the dishes.

How in Hades did she end up with the perfect man? Truly.

Percy continues to exude perfection at the party, despite the fact that he is clearly less than comfortable, not that she can blame him. Some of the older citizens of New Rome are a little less reserved with their opinions of the Greeks, Percy’s hand clenching around his glass of sparkling grape juice every time someone badmouths camp, their home, but they both relax as soon as they finish making the rounds of NRU’s board of trustees and other college officials, peeling away to find Frank and Reyna and the rest of their friends.

Still, Annabeth can’t quite focus.

“Hey.” Percy leans in, his hand against the small of her back, murmuring into her ear. “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” Gods, his hand is so big and warm. All that time in the gym is paying off, too, the weedy, skinny teenager she fell in love with blossoming into a young man, broad shoulders and firm chest like a Phidian sculpture.

“You’re just kind of quiet tonight. Did you sleep okay?”

She blinks at him, thoughts coming back into focus. “Uh--yeah, I’m good. Just--”

“Spaced out for a second?” Making a face, he grins back at her, unrepentant. “You wanna ditch the party?”

“Do you?”

He looks around, eyeing Hylla Ramirez-Arellano as she loudly boasts about being Jeff Bezos’ findom. “A little.”

Well, Annabeth is happy to be his excuse.

Citing a (completely fake) headache, they make their graceful exit, walking back to their apartment in the cool California night, hand in hand, Percy carrying her heels as she walks barefoot down the sidewalks.

It’s a quiet night. Percy squeezes her hand every few steps, and she squeezes back, lifting her face to the clear night sky, thoughts she can’t catch slipping through the cracks like wisps of clouds across the moon. But that’s okay. She’s pretty sure they’re good thoughts.

“You sure you’re alright?” Percy asks as they get home, closing the door behind them. “You've been kind of out of it all night.”

Kissing him on the cheek, she shrugs out of her nice coat, slipping it up on their makeshift coat rack, fashioned from a piece of driftwood that had nearly conked Percy on the head the first time they ever went down to the beach. “I’m fine, Percy, promise. Just kind of a bleh day, you know? Nothing a few cuddles and a movie won’t fix.”

At that, he beams, dropping Annabeth’s shoes on the floor. “I’ll get the popcorn!”

"Let me shower first," Annabeth says. Hopefully a shower will clear her head a little.

It doesn't.

Changing into her pajamas, she ruffles her curls with her microfiber towel, frowning as she comes out of the bathroom. Percy's good habits are rubbing off on her; she's left a lot of crap lying around that needs picking up. Collecting stray bobby pins from the vanity, a curling iron from the top of the dresser, and an alternate dress option from where she had left it on the bed, she putters about the room, tidying as she goes, when she stops. Percy's tie lays crumbled at the head of the bed where he had tossed it earlier.

She picks it up, running it between her fingers. It's not exactly silk, but it's still a decently strong weave, machine-made for mass production, inoffensively soft. Annabeth wraps it around her finger, pulling tight, and a flash of heat rushes through her, like a wave off the lava climbing wall.

“So there’s this guy on Youtube who makes popcorn with Lao Gan Ma spicy chili crisp, and it sounded absolutely amazing,” says Percy, walking into their room, popcorn bowl in hand. Annabeth whips around, the tie crumpled in her fist. “I tried to keep the spice level down, but let me know if it’s too much and I can make another one.”

Annabeth blinks, momentarily uncomprehending. “Uh--sure! Sounds good.”

“Did you pick a movie while you were in the shower?”

“Um…” Was she supposed to? “Your choice.”

“The Sopranos okay?” he asks, climbing onto their bed, twisting around to grab his laptop from the side table. His shirt rides up a little, a sliver of waist and hip peeking out at her.

“Sure.” She likes The Sopranos. It’s a little soapy, but usually she has no problem following along.

Keyword being usually.

She’s tucked herself into Percy’s side the way she usually does, her head against his, his arm around her shoulders, his thumb ghost along the bare skin of her bicep. He smells really good today, sea salt and cinnamon and chili oil, a testament to his busy day in the kitchen. He’s so warm, always, six feet of dense, packed muscle practically radiating heat. Annabeth could fall asleep right there. She often does.

Shifting for the sixth time in what must be five minutes, she snuggles into his chest, curling and uncurling her toes. There’s no denying it--she can feel herself getting hotter, a flame in her center, soft and pulsing, reaching every part of her.

How she wishes she could blame it on The Sopranos.

Annabeth presses her nose into his neck, breathing him in, laying a kiss under his ear. Then another on his jaw. And another at the corner of his lips. And one on his mouth, tilting him towards her for better access. He goes, easily, without resistance.

At some point, the popcorn bowl is moved.

Then, Percy shuts his laptop closed during Livia’s wake.

“Hey,” Annabeth murmurs into his mouth, draped over him like some kind of blanket. “I wanna try something.”

He hums, kissing her again. “Okay?”

She reaches behind him, beneath the pillow. She’s not sure why she had stashed it there, rather than hanging it back up in the closet, but she pulls out the tie, holding Percy’s gaze without breaking. “I thought,” she breathes, pressing her chest against him, incentivizing, “you know... if you want to."

His eyes darken, even as his face tries to give nothing away. "You wanna tie me up?"

Lip between her teeth, she nods.

Slowly, controlled, he blows his breath out, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek. "You sure?" he asks, desire rumbling in his chest.

She frowns. "Yeah." Does he not want to?

"Okay," he says, twisting a curl around his finger. "Just want to make sure we’re on the same page here.”

Or maybe worse, does he think she can’t? “Okay.”

Straightening up, she straddles him. He lifts his arms obediently, never breaking eye contact, bracing them against their headboard. It’s not really conducive for this sort of thing, but she threads the tie through the wooden slats easily enough, tying his wrists together, leaning in closer than she needs to so that her chest pushes up against his face.

There. All tied up and ready to go.

She leans back on her knees, taking in the whole pretty picture.

Rhythmically, subconsciously, Percy tests the strength of the bonds, flexing the muscles in his arms. His mouth hangs open, his hips shifting beneath her as he tries to get comfortable, cock hard through his sweatpants.

Annabeth scrambles off him, and he tries to follow, chest jerking as the tie holds him back. He grunts, surprised, shoulders straining, before he falls back, defeated, huffing angrily, a low growl which connects to the pit of her stomach. “Nice try, Percy,” she smirks, sauntering around to the foot of the bed, keenly aware of his gaze as it tracks her, hands on her hips. “It’s my show tonight.”

“Your show, huh?” He settles back against the headboard, wine-dark gaze boring into her. “By all means, then. Give me a show.”

She glares, grinding her teeth. Doesn’t he know she’s calling the shots right now?

Well, fine. If he wants a show, he’ll get a show.

Annabeth is… not a particularly graceful person normally, but on the battlefield, she knows she shines. Give her a knife and an enemy, and she can put the greatest dancers to shame. Well, in this case, Percy is the enemy, and… her clothes… are the knife. Or something like that. It makes more sense in her head.

Slowly, she grasps the hem of her sleep shirt, peeling it up over her chest, the fabric blocking her vision for a brief moment as she slips it over her head. When Percy comes back into view, his eyes have darkened just that much more, almost straining with the effort not to stare at her chest, even as it’s presented for his explicit viewing pleasure.

Annabeth does not have much in the way of breasts--never has. It doesn’t seem to bother him, which is nice. Besides, Percy is more of a leg man, as he has expressed several times. So, legs next.

Her sleep shorts aren’t very sexy, old, threadbare things which had once been yoga pants. When she started gaining a little more weight, and the pants could no longer reach her ankles, she had cut them in a fit of impulsivity, stretching the fabric and sewing herself a new hem, giving her skin more room to breathe. And giving Percy more space to slip his fingers up, the horny bastard.

She turns around, lamenting the loss, as she so wanted to see his face as she bends over, sticking out her ass, slowly slipping the waistband down. From behind, she hears a faint pickup in breathing.

Over her ass, down her thighs and her knees. She thinks she hears a groan, muffled behind a bitten lip. She lifts up one foot, then the other, leaving the shorts in a puddle by her feet. Clad only in her panties now--black, lacy, but not due to any pre-planning on her part, unless you count the laundry just about overflowing in the closet hamper--she straightens back up, her hands going to her hair, running her fingers through it in some kind of approximation of sexy.

She turns around, and is greeted with his look of naked longing, his throat working as he swallows, full lower lip firmly in his teeth. His fists are clenched, the muscles of his forearms big and bulging, his heels pushing into the mattress.

She takes a step forward, her fingers teasing the edge of her panties. She won’t take them off, not yet, just torment him a little, lifting the fabric and letting it slap back down to her skin, then she’ll climb back on top of him, hump him through his sweatpants until he’s begging--

Annabeth catches her foot on the fabric puddle. Tripping, she throws out her hands, aiming to catch herself on the decorative chest they keep at the foot of their bed, her weak ankle buckling as it tries to keep her steady--then she jams her toe into the metal strut. Hard.

“Mother fucker!”

She goes down.

“Annabeth!”

Through the white hot haze of pain, she can barely see, but she can certainly feel it as a pair of strong arms picks her up from the floor, laying her on the bed, a big hand taking her weaker foot, fingers delicately prodding the offending toe, skimming over the sensitive skin. “Percy?” she moans, seeing stars. “What--”

“Nothing feels sprained,” he murmurs, kissing her ankle. “Looks like you just slammed it. Let me get some ice.” And he leaves her for a moment.

Wasn’t he tied up a minute ago?

The bed dips beside her as Percy takes her foot again, carefully laying one of their smaller ice packs across the throbbing flesh. Her vision clears, blink by blink, and as his concerned but fond face slowly comes into focus, she also spies something trailing from his wrist--a strip of black and white fabric.

His tie. Snapped in half. Still attached to him. “Did you…?” she trails off.

He flicks his eyes down to his wrist, and flushes, lightly. “Oh. I, uh, guess I did. I didn’t even notice.”

Annabeth’s body grows hot in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with shame.

“Anyway,” he coughs, dry and useless. “Um, maybe we should call it a night?”

Hiding her face in her arms, she nods.

***

They try again the next week.

While dictating her notes via speech-to-text, Annabeth had spent the last couple of days occupied with making her own rope, stronger and softer than the ones she had seen in her Incognito Mode searches while doing her business in the bathroom. BDSM rope is surprisingly really expensive, especially the less abrasive stuff, but more than that, she feels kind of… well, it’s weird, the idea of spending money on bondage shit when they’d only tried it once, and not very successfully at that. Like, how about they make sure they actually like it first, says the little Percy in her head who occasionally keeps her from making too many impulse purchases, and then they can upgrade their gear?

Also, she’s confident her stuff is on par with the really expensive gear anyway. Plus, it’s blue!

And when she dangles it in front of his face, straddling him once again as she slides her wet pussy over his briefs, practically soaking them, he lifts his arms again, a quiet acquiescence, even as his jaw clenches in the barest hint of displeasure.

Every day Percy does something new to make her fall in love with him. That he trusts her so much to let her tie him up, immobilize him, take away his control like this, even though he’s so clearly hesitant about the whole thing, that’s just today’s thing. She kisses him, soft and sweet, over and over, and he responds in kind, straining his neck to meet her. “You good?” she asks, a whisper into the space between them, and he nods. “It’s not too tight?”

“It’s fine.” She feels more than sees as he flexes his arms again, testing the strength of her rope.

“Good.” She kisses his nose. No way he’ll be able to break these.

The second time is already going better than the first. Having divested herself of her clothes beforehand, there’s no danger of her tripping and injuring herself as she lines herself up and sinks down on him, shuddering at the angle as she slides him inside of her. She just sits there for a moment, rocking back and forth on his lap, enjoying the way he fills her nooks and crannies, brushing up against the sensitive skin, closing her eyes against the sensation as she lifts herself up, sliding back down, up and down and up and down and up and down.

“Fuck, Annabeth,” he moans. “Oh, fuck.”

It’s good. As always. It’s so good.

But… something is missing.

She squeezes around him, and he hisses, bucking beneath her.

Why isn’t he touching her?

He groans, frustrated, his head making a muffled thump as it drops on the pillow.

Oh. Right.

Usually right about now he’ll go for her tits, his big hands covering them completely, deft fingers pinching and twisting her nipples in the most perfect way, so she decides to show him what he’s missing, bringing her own hands up to her chest, rolling her thumbs over her nipples, smiling as he practically growls. Unfortunately for her, for whatever sick reason, she’s not nearly as good at this as he is, her touches not really doing enough for her. And after a few minutes or so, Percy takes notice.

“Oh gods, Annabeth,” he pants, pulling his legs up behind her, the force almost tilting her forward, and she throws out her hands to catch herself, his abs tensing beneath her as she lands on them, her chest right up against his face. Quick as anything, he lifts his head up, mouth headed for her left nipple before she manages to pull herself back.

She narrows her eyes, falling back on his lap even more heavily, pushing a grunt out of him. “Nice try.”

He only grins back, shark-like, eyes dancing. “Had to give it a shot.”

Of course he did. Percy treats rules like [clever metaphor], easily broken and discarded. And now Annabeth has to punish him.

Shit.

What are you supposed to do for punishment again?

Her mind draws a blank.

Percy stares up at her, waiting, brow raised in challenge.

To stall for time, she squeezes around him.

She’d watched a handful of pornos for research, and in a lot of them, the dominant would strike their partner. Percy’s tough, a bit of an adrenaline junkie, and he likes his rough-housing with Clarisse and Frank and the war kids, so he’d probably like that, too, right? If someone did that to her, Annabeth would probably like it.

So she raises her hand, and she brings it down on his soft, untensed, unprepared tummy. Hard.

He jumps so high that he actually manages to buck her off. “OW!”

“Percy!” she cries, scrambling back over to him. “Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!”

“The hell was that for!” he gasps, curling in on himself as best he can with his arms still tied above his head.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gentles, almost frantic, hands hovering over his body. His belly is rapidly turning pink, the outline of her hand stark on his skin, practically radiating heat. “I just--I mean I thought--fuck, I am so sorry!”

He groans in response, eyes squeezed shut.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck--”Let--let me get you some ice, or--” she stammers, sliding off the bed.

“Can you at least untie me first?” Percy wheezes.

“Oh my gods, yeah, hold on.” Despite her shaking fingers, the knot comes undone easily, practically falling apart, and Percy curls himself into a ball, forehead touching his knees.

Returning with an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel, she kisses his shoulder in apology, slipping it between the taut, tight bends of his body.

He is in real, actual pain. Fuck. “I am so, so sorry,” she says again, her voice wobbling.

Squinting up at her, he tries for a reassuring smile, but falls far, far short, a pained grimace painted across his face. “It’s okay,” he rasps.

It’s really not, but saying that isn’t going to be so helpful right now.

Instead, she lies down next to him, resting her hand on his arm, gently stroking back and forth in hopes that it might distract him a little. She knows that whenever her ankle or her shoulder act up, all she wants is Percy’s hands on her, repetitive and soothing. Hopefully she can give back a little of the comfort that he gives her.

After a while, he starts to uncurl. “Goddamn,” he moans, still clutching the ice pack to his stomach. “Remind me never to badmouth the Yankees again.”

She forces out a chuckle for his sake, ducking her head against his. “How is it? One to ten.”

Hissing, he straightens out a little more. “Probably a four,” he says, “but a really spicy four.”

“Percy, I am so--”

“It’s okay.” He knocks his head against her chin. “Maybe just warn me next time?”

“Yeah,” she says, uneasy. Next time is not looking so likely. “Here.”

Slowly, she helps him into a sitting position, applying extra pressure on his stomach, her hand on top of his. They breathe together, letting the sting fade away until Percy drops his head on hers.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“How--” she snorts, a little wet. “I’m fine, Percy.”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry about hitting you,” she says. She can’t help but look down at his stomach, pinkness peeking above the ice pack, at his dick, well and truly flaccid. “That was… not my best idea.”

“Can I ask you something?” Tearing her gaze away, she turns back to Percy. “Why are you pushing for this so hard?”

She blinks, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Just, you’ve never really expressed an interest in kinky stuff before.” He takes her hand, cold from the ice pack, rubbing his thumb against hers, sweet and intimate.

“Yeah, well,” she cuddles into Percy a little harder, curving her body around his shoulder. “Some of the girls at Berklee were teasing me about being a little vanilla.” None of it was mean-spirited or anything, but it had stayed with her for a while after it had resurfaced that night. Annabeth Chase, despite having run away from home at the age of seven, was a square, a teetotaler, unadventurous, the kind of woman who spent her Friday nights playing board games with a woman who typified 1930s values. Annabeth Chase, after her short, entirely too eventful life, was going to settle down, and marry the first boy she ever kissed.

It had struck a nerve.

“Being vanilla isn’t a bad thing,” he says, something like concern lacing his voice. “But, are you… not satisfied? With the physical stuff?” The unspoken ‘with me’ hangs between them, and Annabeth pulls back, looking him in the eye.

“Percy.”

“Mm?”

Reaching up, she kisses him. “Of course not. I could never not be satisfied.”

Something in him eases, almost imperceptible if she didn’t know him as well as she does. “So…”

Shrugging, she lays her head back down on his shoulder. “I dunno. It’s just--like, I’m pretty sure you’re going to be the only person I ever sleep with--”

“Pretty sure?”

She nudges him with her foot, and he laughs, hissing a little as it jostles his stomach. “You know what I mean. I just don’t want to miss out on anything, is all.”

“Like what?”

“Like--” she gestures to the rope, lying forgotten, tangled up in the sheets. “Stuff like that. Kinky stuff.”

“Okay,” he says, slowly. At least he doesn’t think she’s crazy. That’s always nice. “I guess I’m just wondering if you’re actually into bondage and stuff or if we’re just… you know, trying it out.”

Draping a leg over him, knees pressed together, she shrugs. “It sounded pretty fun,” she mumbles into his arm. “You know. Tying you up.”

She feels him swallow, jaw working as he chooses his next words carefully. “Tying me up,” he asks, “or tying you up?”

That… gives her pause.

“Maybe…” He turns his face towards her, nose in her hair. “We could swap?”

She frowns. “Swap?”

“If you want, I mean,” he says, quickly. “If you’re not--I would never make you do something you didn’t want to, obviously, but, I mean… if you wanted to try?”

Annabeth, for lack of anything to say, rubs her toes against his calf, comforting and grounding.

Does she want to be tied up?

Her first instinct is to refuse, obviously. She’s a warrior. Immobilization is death. And what if a monster attacks? She has to be ready for anything. That was the promise of Athena’s progeny, that they were eternally poised and ready to respond to any problem or threat.

And yet…

The summer she turned thirteen, she had decided that she was strong enough to hear the siren’s song in the sea of monsters. At her request, Percy had tied her to the mast so she wouldn’t be able to jump in and swim to her death. He had forgotten to take her knife, and when she had, inevitably, fallen prey to their song and cannonballed right into danger, he had jumped in after her, holding her back until she had been able to pull herself out of the magic spell.

It had been humiliating, and humbling. She hadn’t even begun to realize that she liked Percy as more than a friend at that point. But, years later, the clearest memory she has of that day is not how her pride had reared its ugly head, but instead just how safe she had felt in Percy’s arms, at the bottom of the ocean.

Here, in New Rome, in their apartment, with Percy… Well, what’s the worst that could happen? “Sure,” she says, perhaps a little more confident than she actually feels.

“Sure?”

“Sure. Why not?” Looking up at him, she searches his gaze for any hesitation or fear, and finds none, and that, more than anything else, settles her. “I’m game.”

He looks for the same in her, and he seems to like what he finds, because he cracks a grin, laying a soft kiss on her lips.

Gingerly, still mindful of his stomach, he reaches over to grab the discarded rope. Taking her hands in his free one, he loops it around her wrists, tucking the ends into itself, tight but not constricting. Comfortable.

Her breath catches in her throat.

“You good?”

Nodding, she flexes her wrists outward, just to feel the tension--and she sighs, a breathy moan slipping out of her without her permission.

They freeze.

Annabeth slams her eyes shut, praying he didn’t hear her.

“...Okay then,” says Percy.

Gods, his shit-eating grin is practically audible. “Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” He leans in, kissing her ear. “Did you just try to tell me what to do?”

She shivers beneath his warm breath. “I…” She is suddenly full of apologies and excuses bubbling up out of nowhere.

Percy hums. “You what?” Slowly, agonizingly, he slides his hand down the length of her body, ending on her tight, just above her knee. He squeezes, featherlight, and she shivers.

“Um,” she says, watching his hand creep higher, his fingers dipping between her legs. “I…”

Then he stops. He stops, that big hand still wedged halfway to her vagina.

“Are--” she stutters, almost yelping as he kisses the sensitive spot beneath her jaw, teeth scraping over the skin. “Are you going to finish?”

“Dunno. Was thinking about it. But maybe I won’t. Maybe,” he chuckles, directly into her ear, his nose pressing against her cheek. His other arm comes around, slipping beneath her bicep, fingers finding her nipple like it’s a damn beacon, and he pinches it, smiling into her skin as she jumps, grunts, and flushes. She wants to touch him so badly, but the angle of her arms is so weird and she’s kind of on top of him, and she can’t reach his cock or his hair or--“Maybe I’ll just get you worked up, and then I’ll go to sleep.”

What--but--he can’t--“I--you--”

“Say you’re sorry,” he teases, pressing his cheek to her head, “and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Sorry for what?! She almost snaps. Percy’s hand between her legs plays just at the edge of her sensitive spots, teasing with soft touches, driving her crazy. “I’m--I’m sorry, Percy,” she pants, squirming. Maybe if she shimmies down, his hand will move up--

But he won’t be moved. “Sorry for what?”

“For--” he digs a nail into her thigh, a sharp, sweet bite of sensation, like a campfire ember accidentally landing on your skin, bright and pulsing. Fuck, what is she apologizing for? “For hurting you earlier.”

Shaking his head, he chuckles again, moving his hand further away. No! “Close,” he mumbles, “but no cigar--”

Oh! “For telling you what to do!” she blurts. “I’m sorry for telling you what to do!”

He bites her earlobe. His fingers slide up to her pussy, stroking her labia as they open up to him. “There we go.”

And as he jerks her off, bringing her to the finish with the kind of efficiency and skill that only comes after ten thousand hours, he kisses her, wet and hot, mouth insistent, taking her lip between his teeth, and he mumbles: “Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

She breaks, crying into his mouth.

After a while, he slides his fingers out, giving her one final pass on her clit, and she shudders, whining. “Sorry,” he mumbles, warm. “You good?”

Her tongue heavy in her mouth, all she can do is nod, panting.

But when he slides his other arm out, making to untie her--”Don’t,” she mumbles, pulling back.

He starts. “Don’t?”

“Don’t.” Turning into him, she snuggles against him as deeply as she could, her bound hands only making it a little bit awkward, though they do come to rest on his stomach, about the perfect distance for her to reach down and take care of him. “Your turn?”

But he just shakes his head, slinging a leg over hers. “Still a little sore,” he admits, not quite meeting her gaze.

She drops her head onto his chest, relishing in the warm, steady heartbeat beneath her ear. “Sorry.”

“You can make it up to me later,” he says, taking her hands in his, thumb tracing along the edge of the rope. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

#my fic #percabeth #pjo fic #darkmagyk #PLS HEED THE RATING OK

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heniareth · 3 years

Text

I was tagged by @scribbledquillz for this ao3/fanfic author meme. Thanks so much for tagging me! Now, there’s only one thing (I’ll explain as soon as I answer the first question). But first, tags. I’m gonna tag @yukichouji and @the-iron-lion because I know you write and post, but I also know you’re busy, so please, only do it if you want to and have time ^^ Apart from that, if anybody who sees this wants to give it a go, consider yourself tagged! I’d love to read your answers, so feel free to tag me back

How many works do you have on AO3?

So, here’s the thing: I’ve never posted anything I have written XD One day, I will, but until then, I’ll answer the questions I can answer to the best of my ability ^^ I’ll modify some questions and keep the original ones for anybody who wants to answer those.

What’s your total AO3 fanfic words count?

123.211 words total (not counting one absolutely massive collaborative fanfic that I’m not gonna count rn)

More under the cut!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Funny thing: thanks to this question I’ve rediscovered like ten folders with the beginnings of different fanfics I’d not opened in years. Thank you, @scribbledquillz for making me find my old writings! My main work rn is a Dragon Age Origins retelling (featuring Astala Tabris of course, though I have decided that the other origins--Surana, Amell, Brosca, Mahariel, the whole gang--also survive because yes.) I also have two separate unfinished pieces on Caduceus and Caleb of the Mighty Nein (Critical Role) respectively. Equally unfinished are one fanfic with Loki and his Jotunn heritage, and another about the extermination of mutants in the X-Men universe prior to X-Men: Days of Future Past. Both projects were ambitious, but exist mainly as ideas now. The longest (and oldest) fanfic I’ve ever written is a collaborative super self-indulgent self-insert fix-it fic for The Hobbit. I am quite proud of my younger self for pulling through with this one and sticking to it over such a long time. It is, sadly, also unfinished.

Do you Would you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I would definitely respond to comments. It’s polite. I’d also want to mirror back the joy a comment has inspired in me.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

The X-Men fanfic ends with the events of X-Men: Days of Future Past, which (spoiler?) means all the characters were going to die. But it’s okay because the movie fixes that ^^ But generally speaking, I’m not big on angsty endings. Angst is fine anywhere else.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I think it has to be either the The Hobbit fanfic or the Dragon Age Origins retelling. Characters I strongly identify with tend to get the happiest endings. Oh do I ever wonder why that is so

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I’ve never written a crossover, but I’ve read some really cool ones. There was one featuring the Mighty Nein in the Undeadwood setting (both by Critical Role) that I wished had gone on longer bc it was so cool.

Have you ever recieved hate on a fic?

One of the good things about not posting anything: you don’t subject it to judgement ;D

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have... never finished writing a smutty scene.

One day. One day. Zevran might be the push I need, who knows

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Another one of the good things about not posting anything.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I started translating several of them myself! :D

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Oh yes! It’s an amazing experience. The creativity is squared. It is important though that all collaborators are on the same page about where the story goes, how the characters will be portrayed, etc. Especially if you give somebody your own OC or self-insert to write about.

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

There are a few that have a special place in my heart. Shadogast comes to mind, or Percy/Vex (from Critical Role). I love the Zevwarden ship because it’s a story about allowing feelings and romance and being stronger because of them (at least in my mind). I’m scared of what Fenris/Hawke might do to me when I get around to play DA2 XD

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Definitely the The Hobbit fanfic. It is a glorious mess, and from time to time I go through the documents again... but it’s just a really big project and my collaborators are busy

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue! Banter! I love it. I absolutely adore it. I make it way too long but it’s so much fun. I’m very much character driven I think, which is also why fanfic is so appealing to me. Actions speak louder than words, but characters shout through a megaphone. I also like pairing dialogue with very day-to-day, down-to-earth actions (like folding laundry). I feel like it allows me to convey so much more about the caracters than only through the words they say and the dialogue tags of “he said, she whispered”. Another thing I consider myself strong at is worldbuilding and generally keeping the practical things in mind. If it’s autumn, it’s probably gonna rain, the ground will be wet, they’ll sleep poorly and that’ll be reflected in heightened tempers and therefore more drama in the next scene. The fact that in canon a town has a harbor will have impacted this character who was born there. I like the details and puzzling the pieces together to make a world really come to life XD And, last, I have also recently learned that I write best non-chronologically, and to just write it all out and edit later. It does wonders to advance a project

What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions. I hardly write any at first. I normally see scenes very clearly in my head, but I... don’t communicate it XD I’m so character-driven that I kinda forget about the rest. I also tend to get too bogged down by the mundane? The fact that I like to play around with details of the worldbuilding and have it all make sense means I’ll write that scene where they break up camp even though it... doesn’t really add anything to the story apart from the fact that it happens and they indeed do break up camp. Things that I should tell, I show. It reflects in my wordcount.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I like it! I find it really interesting. I might even listen to the spoken dialogue via Google trnaslate XD The only reason it might bother me is that there’s just no elegant way to integrate the translation into the text on AO3. In a normal book, I’d go for a footnote, but in AO3 and with my chapter length, I won’t make anybody scroll down, read the translation, and scroll up again.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

My first ever fanfic before I knew what fanfic was were things I wrote age 11 with a friend about the cowboy stories this German late 19th century writer Karl May wrote. We were obsessed with those novels

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

I gotta say the Hobbit fanfic. It was melodramatic, it was self-indulgent, it had everything. I remember staying up with my friends way into the wee hours of the morning discussing how we’d save Thorin and his nephews from certain death and why Kili was so obsessed with Tauriel after talking to her once XD

And here we go! Thank you so much again for tagging me, this was a lot of fun (and it makes me want to post something. Maybe the Dragon Age Origins retelling will make the cut? I do hope I finish it in the next months)

#me #writing #astala tabris #for fun

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ruegarding · 1 month

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Hey, quick question if you don't mind me asking, what were your thoughts on Chalice of the Gods?

overall, i wish rick stopped at toa like he said he was going to. the more rick adds, the more the world-building suffers as a result. that being said, i didn't completely hate cotg like i thought i would. there's a few good moments, but, in general, it reads like a cash-grab.

let's start with the good. percy has some of the most in-character moments he's had in the universe since pjo.

percy's confrontation w geras was so good that i actually wish this was part of percy's character arc in hoo. percy spent almost all of pjo knowing he was going to die—he saw the fates cut the string in tlt and in som he put together what the prophecy meant: he was going to die either at or before 16. and this is exactly why this confrontation works and why i think it's better than new rome. new rome can protect a demigod from monsters, not from fate. percy wasn't scared of monsters. if he was, he would've stayed at chb year-round.

and i really like that geras was willing to entertain percy bc he had turned down godhood. like the first time percy ever thinks abt immortality seriously (in botl) this is what he has to say:

so immortality is fundamentally at odds w percy's character bc he defines himself so thoroughly w the ppl he loves. and this is exactly what allows him to get through to geras! it's such a good exploration of percy's character and the future he's now able to consider.

similarly, this section

is more in-character than almost all of hoo. this is a prime example of how percy's loyalty works and addresses how it's misconstrued in fandom. percy has a desire for freedom, and that desire informs how he respects ppl. percy's loyalty isn't a possessive "i won't let you do this" bc he will, he will always let someone make their own choice at the end of the day bc it's what he would want. and this was actually established in tlt, when sally says "you're enough like me to understand" and asks percy to let her save herself. so percy lets bianca fight talus, he lets nico walk away, he gives luke the knife, he lets ganymede choose his own story, even when he disagrees w it. and this is why percy's arc in hoo sucked! rick tried to give percy the typical hero complex, but it's contradictory w percy's character. so when i saw this passage i was so relieved. i thought this part of percy died w pjo.

also, to talk abt someone other than percy, this moment

is good. i love this abt annabeth.

and grover saying the hardest thing is sitting by and not being able to do anything. bc grover is usually in a support role and he wasn't there at all in hoo. i also like that percy is confronted w the fact that he's not expendable. thumbs up from me.

the bad...i'm just going to keep short bullet points.

what even is this plot

it doesn't work as part of pjo and yet it's marketed as the sixth book in the series

why is zeus a disney villain. i hate everything abt it

the inconsistencies...annabeth's cap...why are we continuing to treat percy like he's disinterested in learning??? also. what do you mean you're not allowed at camp after you turn 18? WHAT DO YOU MEAN????? this was not a thing. and wasn't rhea in hiding or something?? now she's casually having brunch?

there's too much "percy is the stupid bf and annabeth is the competent gf who takes care of him." i hated every second of this. also annabeth is disabled. her being intelligent does not remove her disability. she struggles.

i rbed that post abt disaster cook annabeth and good cook percy and i stand by that.

the power monologue makes no damn sense (and another addition by op in the tags)

no seriously i'm begging someone to have a real conversation and understand percy is terrified of how powerful he is. i've been waiting for this since botl. WHICH WAS PUBLISHED IN 2008 BTW

i'm not a huge estelle or paul fan. like they're fine they're just not compelling.

the only time i feel sally and percy have the same connection as they had in tlt is when they're alone. this is a problem i've had for a while, but cotg does not fix it. when paul and annabeth are in the equation, it feels like percy is the outsider.

in summary, cotg is like a fanfic i would leave kudos for being a good percy character study despite having questionable moments. except it's canon. and these questionable things affect the world-building.

#thanks for asking! i love having an excuse to ramble #sorry for the extra character study but this is the edited version it used to be longer LMAO #cotg spoilers #rr crit #answered

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rickriordanfandam · 3 years

Text

opinions on riordanverse ; my edition

a lot of people have been doing this so i decided why not right. probably gna lose some followers or smth but anyways. pls respect my opinions! if u disagree, thats fine, but please be polite. unless any of my opinions strikes u as morally wrong then pls point it out to me respectfully. thanks!

- i actually liked drew. im so sorry to everyone who hates her but full offence, why. think about it this way ok, first of all drew became hc because silena died. silena was the traitor, the one who betrayed chb, yet after she died campers celebrated her as a hero? and then drew suddenly has to replace her and live up to idk that legacy she left behind,, when all of a sudden this girl named piper swoops in and takes her place. idk abt u but i wld be salty abt that too. not only that, but as an asian, the chances of drew having faced racism/bullying as a child is pretty high (she studies at brooklyn academy). which means that when she finds out shes a demigod, and arrives at chb where most of the campers are white (this is an assumption btw), she’d obviously be scared of being bullied for her skin color right?? so the first thing she wld do before the campers get to bully her is to bully them before they can do so. (sentence structure here is wack i apologize) ofc this might not even have happened, drew could have had a perfect childhood && was a b1tch for no reason, BUT EVEN THEN HER ROLE AS A BULLY WAS PRETTY VITAL BECAUSE THAT FURTHER SHOWED THE CONTRAST BETWEEN HER AND PIPER,, HIGHLIGHTING PIPER AS A HERO//GOOD CHARACTER,, AND THEREFORE MAKING READERS LIKE PIPER MORE. anyway stop hating on drew please. ALSO WHY IS THIS SO LONGA SDFJHG

- jason isnt bland, the fandom just kinda erased his backstory (thanks to @pjohoo-memes for the phrasing lol)

- reynabeth wouldnt have lasted/would have broken up several times. idk i just see them as two extremely powerful characters who have firm opinions and will definitely clash at some point. in a platonic relationship,, i can see them as really good friends but as lovers? idk i just think theyll break up

- PIPABETH

- i dont really like jercy,, i see them as better friends than lovers. also idt jason and percy were that close..?

- the dam and not my type jokes are srsly cringey and were never funny. ik that seems hypocritical since my username literally makes use of the dam joke but honestly i dont actually like the joke. its not funny to me and has never been funny

- the seven were not best friends. they definitely argued,, and honestly probably werent as close as the fandom makes them seem. like ure dumped with 6 other people, out of which u only know a few. my introverted ass would have jumped off the argo 2 quicker than leo valdez could bomb camp jupiter up. also leo was a dick to frank. so what if frank is bigger sized?? thats not a valid reason to tease him

- the fandom needs to stop hating on octavian while worshipping luke. if u hate luke and u say u hate octavian too, then okay. but if u tell me ure a luke stan but u despise octavian?? imma disagree w u. luke was worse than octavian im sorry. first of all, octavian being a dick was kinda justified. hes been after the praetor position for so long, and everyone keeps saying to “wait for jason” when suddenly this dude, whos a son of NEPTUNE (neptune wasnt liked much by romans), and the camp decides to make him praetor?? dude i would be pissed off big time. and then afterwards, he finds out that greek demigods are real and the dude they made praetor is greek. AND THEN GREEK DEMIGODS COME TO CJ AND ONE OF THEM BOMB IT UP?? octavian has been told all his life that greeks are scum and this dude called leo valdez attacks cj. sure it was an accident, but did octavian know that? no. so it was honestly justified that he was such a salty prick im just saying. also some of yall be hating on octavian for cutting a teddy bear open and thats the funniest shit ive ever heard i swear

- luke didnt go to elysium

- travis and connor stoll r way too underrated. the two have been head counselors of the hermes cabin since luke was revealed as a traitor, can u imagine the stress? luke, the person they probably looked up to as a brother, betrayed them. and they didnt even have time to process this when they were thrown the roles of being hcs. that would have been so stressful and i would probably have broken down if i were them. the stoll brothers taking turns to wake up at ungodly hours because a new camper is crying and homesick and terrified, the stoll brothers having to comfort and take care of new campers, having to deal with the amount of people in that cramped space because not enough campers are being claimed fast enough. having to resolve issues between campers in the hermes cabin all the time. the stolls arent just comedic relief, and we need to stop treating them as such

- tratie shldve been canon idc idc

- demigods of the demeter cabin arent talked about enough and i love the fact that meg was demeters kid. like she isnt the child of one of the big three yet shes so powerful.

- we need to hype clarisse up more her character arc was phucking amazing

- rachel is overhated. sis found out greek gods exist and regularly come down to earth to fuck around and went “ok cool”. queen shit behavior methinks

- the floor 19 crew of mcga is srsly underrated. like do u even remember halfborn gunderson, mallory keen, tj, etc??? bc i feel like we only remember samirah, magnus, alex, and sometimes blitz and hearthstone

- sadie (tkc) was kinda annoying at first. i like her more now tho but i rmb not liking her for a phat while

- tkc and mcga need more love

- carter kane and jason grace arent boring. theyre just really sweet boys who are too good for this world and yes yes yes

- hazel and frank (especially frank) need to be hyped up more. i hardly ever see anything about them. also yall seem to forget that frank was literally made praetor and that even hecate admired hazel and was willing to fight beside her because of how powerful she was

- frazels age gap is kinda sketch but i still think theyre really cute

- nico definitely had trauma from going to tartarus on his own

- GROVER IS PERCYS BEST FRIEND

- annabeth isnt smarter than leo but neither is leo smarter than annabeth. ive seen a lot of discussions about who is smarter and heres my hot take on it: neither. theyre equally smart, just in different ways. leos a genius mathematically speaking. he has no issues solving math problems meant for people much, much older than him. annabeth on the otherhand, is great at strategies etc. she can make an army of 1000 more powerful than the enemy, even if theyre outnumbered. so in my opinion, both are equally as smart//u cant compare their intelligence, because their talents lie in two different areas.

- while i do agree rick riordan isnt a god and that hes bound to make mistakes,, AND that hes given us a lot of representation,, if the representation offends the people its sposed to represent, then theres a problem. im talking about piper as a poc and wearing feathers in her hair. im not a poc, so i cant speak for them on whether or not its wrong, because i dont know either. HOWEVER, i have seen multiple posts BY pocs talking about how they didnt really like rick’s representation of piper, and thats an issue. pocs have been and are still oppressed and discriminated against by many. as a white cis man, we cant really blame him for not knowing (tho he could have done a research,, asked some pocs,, idk), but by representing pocs in that manner, hes influencing impressionable kids/teens into thinking “oh pocs wear feathers in their hair all the time” etc, which isnt true. the pjo/hoo series is extremely successful, and kids who read the books will probably start forming inaccurate opinions on pocs. the amount of fan art that depicts piper with feathers in her hair dont help either. “but rick said so in the books, so its canon” yeah well rick isnt a god and he can get some things wrong at times. im not saying we should cancel him, im saying we should start educating ourselves and not spread false info like pocs wearing feathers in their hair all the time. also that snake song shit where she sang Summertime was just- yeah. bc heres the thing you can be racist, and still include minorities, but portray them in a racist way. And even then, ignorance isn't a thing to admire. Getting those facts wrong still has a major impact. It continues to perpetuate racist stereotypes.

“ With the feather thing, I looked it up myself; it takes less than five minutes to figure out that Cherokees don't braid feathers into their hair. I didn't grow up in the country where my parents are from. I have many other first/second generation American friends who have also been through that, with a bit of a disconnect from their culture. But something that most of us have in common is that when we didn't know something, and when our parents weren't that big of a help, we looked it up. We sought out resources online and through other people from our culture to be able to connect more with where we came from. Some of that took a Google search. So I find it hard to believe that Piper, a girl who Rick's trying to portray as someone who is attempting to connect with her culture and is totally against racist stereotypes, wouldn't know that eagle feathers aren't supposed to be braided into your hair casually. She may be disconnected from her culture, but she's also shown to want to connect back to it. Piper wouldn't be casually braiding feathers into her hair while also telling off people for being racist. It makes no sense.” - reddit thread (down below)

for those of yall who wanna know more please please read this, it has a lot of things i wanna add in here : https://www.reddit.com/r/camphalfblood/comments/gy3gl2/piper_mcleans_portrayal_is_innacurate/

as well as https://finding-my-culture.tumblr.com/post/189422373260/maxie-ratties-and-cattie-finding-my-culture

i will be posting screenshots of these in future posts so if ure viewing this on ig and u dont have tumblr,, dont worry

- the fact that most of the strong female characters in the series refuse to be “girly”, and ngl i dont really like that. just because ure girly doesnt mean u cant be strong.

- piper would have been a great way for him to start making the strong characters act girlier, but instead he went with the “I’m not like other girls” trope which is quite obnoxious to hear constantly, and I don’t think it’s necessarily great for younger girls to read that idea growing up. the closest we've ever had to a strong female character who was also into "girly" things was Silena. when I was younger I admired Piper's "I'm not like other girls" thing, but then I got older and realized that the whole mentality of "not like other girls" is super obnoxious, and a little bit toxic

i have a heck load more that i cant rmb rn but yeah feel free to add more

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cadykeus-clay · 3 years

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Would you mind sharing your thoughts about vex and Beau being cross campaign foils?

so!!!! first things first: apologies for taking weeks to answer this, finals + having adhd sometimes makes my brain turn to mush and forget every ask ive ever recieved. second of all, i’m assuming you sent me this bc of what i said in my vm vs. m9 how they view the world meta. and i’ll be real with you. i have exactly 0 memory of what was going through my head when i wrote that line, so i am simply going to type out a bunch of thoughts that i have on the similarities and differences between beau and vex and i hope that lives up to what you were expecting jsdflksjdksld

I'll detail some specifics in a moment, but overall, I think beau and vex share a very similar kind of trauma of exclusion in their formative years, that's caused them to have a lot of similar traits that manifest in different ways - for vex, she maintains control through her material posessions and beau finds an emotional control in her asshole-ness. I've broken this down into 5 points on which I think comparing the two really emphasizes that claim:

1. daddy issues: both beau and vex have awful no good terrible very bad dads. both syldor and thoreau can suck my ass. they both raised their kids with little love and impossible-to-meet expectations, alientating them and leaving them with lifelong feelings of inferiority and unbelonging. If beau and vex were to meet, i think they would have a very friendly toast to shitty dads, and then have a good drunk vent about it an hour later.

but, at the same time, the actual minutae of their trauma and the ways it manifests are nearly polar opposites. syldor wanted nothing to do with vex, or else wanted her to somehow become a full elf. her issue was that she would never be able to belong, despite her desire to, and as she grew up it lead to her being overly protective and even possessive of the people she found who DID accept her as she was.

With beau, rather than exclusion, her father created an environment of toxic inclusion. He created a role for beau to belong in, disregarding her distate for actually fulfilling it. And, as such, she ended up making herself into someone who could have no expectations and pushed away anyone who tried to set them up for her. In the end, they both came to love themselves by abandoning the woman their father wanted them to be but for vex it was the laying down of an impossible dream and for beau it was the picking up of a mantle she had feared to wear.

2. brothers: now, on the topic of family, I also think its really interesting how their interactions with their brothers play out. We've got vex and vax, tied at the hip til the very end and then some; and then we've got beau and TJ - decades apart and with beau barely acknolwedging TJ's existence. But, even that distance between beau and TJ didn't stop her caring for him when they actually met. She gave him lucky Jade, and she entertained the idea of kidnapping him to get him away from her stinko dad.

And I'd espeically like to talk about what she said outside the hag's hut - "I think Luc and TJ could be best friends", in comparison to the way Vex reacted when Vax told her was going to Zephrah with Keyleth for the year break. There's an aspect to the way they interact with their brothers that lets them slip back into those bad habits they formed growing up (NOT that i'm claiming vex and vax were like toxic for each other. but even good relationships can have unhealthy moments).

With Beau, when she offers to give her happiness so TJ can grow up safe, she's trying to take on the role she's ""supposed"" to fill - the big sister, the protector - because she failed to fill the one her father set out. And with Vex, when she grows jealous of Vax, it's because she's afraid that his leaving with keyleth is a sign that she no longer belongs in his inner circle, and she falls back on that childish, desperate desire to do anything to be accepted unconditionally.

3. romance: spoilers for 5 or so most recent m9 eps (115-120) if you haven't watched them ahead!!!! at this point, both vex and beau have an endgame romance - percy and yasha respectively. Obviously as the m9's campaign is still playing out, that could change, but like. yasha wrote her a love letter and they're officially going on a date so i'm counting that as at least endgame-track rather than just random flirting. What's interesting to me is that they both seem to flip between the SAME roles between their (in-game) general perception and their actual pursual of romance.

Vex gets characterized as a pretty big flirt, right? She's got the winks, the casual "darling". She's flashed grog her boobs on multiple instances with little prompting. Beau, similarly, has easily the most game out of anyone in the m9. She's slept with two guest characters and at least one more npc in the events of the game. Caleb made her a fuck mirror in her room in the mansion. And yet, in both of their actual romantic endeavors, they became the shy, uncertain type.

Vex only confessed her feelings when Percy was laying dead before her, and not an hour of game play before percy kissed her in the woods, she had a talk with vax about how she was pretty sure he didn't like her that way and she didn't want to pursue it. Beau, similarly, spent a very long time convinced that yasha wasn't looking for love after zuala, especially not in anyone like her, asked everyone in the party if they thought yasha ACTUALLY liked her, just to be safe, and then still terrified to ask her out after recieving a literal love letter. I'd argue this shift comes from that same sense of unbelonging - they're very good at pretending they fit a role but doubt their actual right to take it when the opportunity is presented. This time, the role is the lover rather than the daughter.

4. authority: Both vex and beau grew up shunned by the upper crust of society, and grew to mistrust those kinds of people. And yet, both of their arcs result in them assuming such a position. Vex, thrown out of high society gets her place as a baronness, and Beau, running from leadership of her father's business ends up a top member of the Cobalt Soul. There's not a lot here, but I find it interesting how both of their stories involve them shedding their baggage regarding authority and power and assuming it in a way that they feel comfortable in - invitation by someone she trusts for vex, and a promise of freedom of will and control for beau.

5. their deadliest sins: this is the point at which their similarities culminate and transform to a fundamental difference. despite everything they share - shitty childhoods, the small piece of family that's still good, flirtiness masking shy love, and a mistrust of those in power - vex and beau are such different characters because of their biggest vices. Vex, both in game and out, is "the greedy one". She's stingy with money, she haggles for everything, she mourns the loss of physical objects. Beau is "the mean one". She cares little for people's feelings if they're not in her immediate circle, she focuses on her tough guy image, she laughs at things she knows she shouldn't.

And, over the course of the campaign, as they find unconditional acceptance, they grow away from these traits (I won't say they grow out of them) because they heal from the things causing these vices to begin with. I've always been vocal about vex's greed being a manifestation of her class insecurity, and beau's asshole-ness stemming from her fear of being forced back into another position of complacency. And I stand by that now - all the similarities in their backstories are what tally up to these different women.

Despite her careful tally of party funds and her reflexive bargaining, vex is not cruel. she is not angry on her own behalf. She saves two boys from the market in the city of brass at great personal cost, she relinquishes an entire dragon's hoard to the devastated city of Westruun, she took the time to save a baby bear from a cage when she could have just cut and run after escaping her own. She's the first one most people go to when they need a shoulder to cry on, and she's devastated when they don't (thinkin about when Scanlan left). She carved "forgiveness" into the bow she stole from a man after killing him by proclaiming how much she loved someone, because she knew anger had no place in her heart.

And Beau, Beau is a bitch and she's harsh, but she doesn't hoard or protect like vex did. she spends her money without much of a second thought. She pitches in to help her friends buy a ton of glowsticks, and she loves to indulge in material desires like drink and good food and the nicer inn room. She's a member of an organization that's about making knowledge public rather than guarding it. And, though this may be controversial, I think her position with bowlgate of "its not our problem what cali wants to do with it", her long-standing mistrust of their alliance with the bright queen and and more recently with the tomb takers of "i want to go in and talk, rather than assuming they're antagonistic, even if it puts us at a disadvantage" are both examples of this non-possessiveness too - she has no need or desire to get involved in controlling what other people are doing.

so, i guess the general conclusion here is: vex struggles to let go of things, of money, of people. beau struggles to let herself be known in case she gets wrongly interpreted again. they both fight feelings of inadequacy, they both fight the feelings of not belonging, of 'doing it wrong', they fight the perception of them as shitty people because of the shells they hide in despite their absolute hearts of gold. but at the end of the day, vex's story is one of having to lay down what could never be hers so she can carry what is, and beau's story is one of allowing herself to be known so a place can be made for her.

#hope this is what you and that other anon were looking for jdsflkdsajfsaldfsa #critical role #vexahlia #beauregard #long post

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bellamyblakru · 3 years

Note

For the Bad Things Happen Bingo, can I request ‘passing out from the pain’ with hurt!Merlin/protective!Gwaine ???

YOU SURE CAN. i have like a list of prompts that came before this one that i should be doing,,, but i really wanted to try and write merwaine so badly isksksksk thank you for this opportunity. i hope i can do them justice with my first time🥺 (also lol i fangirled at your request bc i love your account sm asbskakak)

here it is on ao3 and under the cut! i hope you like it!!

Merlin watched Gwaine from his peripheral, thinking about everything and nothing at once. Gwaine has been with the knights for a few years now, right when Arthur took the crown, and Merlin hasn’t seen any indication that the man wanted to leave. But he will one day, won’t he? He has told Merlin many times how he doesn’t like staying in one place for too long, so Merlin never expected him to stay here as long as he has.

Merlin frowned at his thoughts on top of his mare, Honey, as Gwaine chatted with Percival and Leon. He was making them laugh, that smile of his shining through the darkening thoughts floating in Merlin’s mind. Merlin couldn’t help letting the soft smile slip through seeing how happy Gwaine made them—it seemed like Gwaine had that effect on everyone, Merlin mused.

Arthur was talking with Lance and Elyan, so Merlin let his mind start wandering. His magic was itching to escape—it has been since the morning they left on this hunt. Merlin knew Arthur just wanted to flee the restraints of the castle, and, honestly, Merlin had been feeling the same way for days.

Lately, Gwaine had been avoiding him. Well, Merlin thinks Gwaine had been avoiding him, at least, and Gwaine never does that, ever. He’d been thinking that he must have hurt Gwaine somehow, but every time he thought back to their last interaction, where nothing seemed wrong, he had no idea where the distance was coming from. He had been making Gwaine laugh at training, and after that day, he hadn't been able to get more than five words to him.

He missed Gwaine.

That thought made him frown once more at the offending trees they were passing. He missed Gwaine because Gwaine was his friend, nothing more. The more he tried to convince himself of that fact, the more unlikely it became. Frustrated, Merlin let some of his prickling magic flow out his fingertips to his mare, smoothing away her small aches.

Merlin patted her neck with a small smile as she sighed out in contentment—at least he could do one thing right lately. Magic, he thought with heart panging a bit, still wasn’t free and Arthur has been on the throne for about five years. It hurts, still after all this time, that something as pure as this would lead to his death—but he knew deep down that he wasn’t afraid of dying, not anymore. No, Merlin was terrified of how his friends would react after years of deceit and pain.

Just out of reflex, Merlin looked towards them. He found Gwaine staring at him, concern written on every feature, but the second their eyes met, his friend quickly started up another conversation with the others.

Merlin ignored the deepening pang in his chest and the nausea rising in his throat—this was nothing, he told himself, Gwaine didn’t mean anything by that.

The lie left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He was about to suggest they stop, wanting a distraction, when he heard the noise. His mare also stopped, feeling him stiffen. Merlin whipped his head to the side, his eyes narrowing.

“Merlin?” Gwaine quickly came to his side, but Merlin’s head didn’t move, “Do you hear something?”

Merlin wished he didn’t, just so he could use this as an excuse to talk to him, but he scowled lowly in response, “Bandits—ten, if I’m right, and many have magic.”

He knew Gwaine wouldn’t ask how he knew—he never did.

The man nodded, and Merlin’s heart lightened a bit when Gwaine didn’t say “to relax” or that “he was paranoid” like the rest of the knights would’ve done. It always felt good to not be second-guessed.

“How long do we have?”

Merlin tilted his head, “Two minutes, at most.”

Gwaine grunted in response, galloping towards Arthur. Merlin didn’t like the void he felt in his heart the second Gwaine left his side, but, shaking his head, he knew there were more important matters to think about. Merlin watched, amazed, as the knight got everyone’s attention so easily. The way he talked, with his rare seriousness expression, captivated everyone just as much as his joking did.

And although Merlin tried to convince himself that the knights would listen to him that way if he told them, he knew they would never.

Merlin was a simple country boy, wasn’t he? He had no credibility to them. He couldn’t truly blame them—it’s not like Merlin was an open book. He lied, but never completely. His cheerful, idiotic personality was a cover of sorts, but it was just another part of who he was. He wasn’t only the clumsy fool, but what could he do to show them otherwise? They knew Gwaine hid his problems in jokes and clever remarks, so what was so wrong with Merlin doing the same? Merlin didn’t know, and he didn’t think he wanted to.

Showing them the magic, the part that was so integral to who he was, would lead them to fear him, not respect him as one of their own. He didn’t want recognition, that’s never why he did what he does, but some form of understanding between them all is what he craved, what he wished. To not be second-guessed when he knew everyone’s lives were at stake and that he could save them...but that was only a fool’s dream.

He stopped with the rest of the knight when Gwaine convinced them that something was coming.

“Merlin,” Gwaine said from the top of the group, “go to the tree line, you won’t get hurt there.”

Merlin nodded with a carefully blank face—the battling emotions, of love and irritation, whirling inside of him.

They don’t know you can protect yourself, the logical part of his mind reminded him. After all these years, Merlin thought, I should be able to accept the coddling with a full heart. It showed that they do care about him, but why did it never feel that way? Merlin felt like an obstacle in their way—someone to protect, to always watch out for, a hindrance.

Merlin felt silly for the negative thoughts—none of this could be helped right now, so why dwell on these facts?

Aiming for the most advantageous spot, Merlin saw the first bandit pop out next to Eylan, who effectively took the man down. Percy patted him on the back as they moved around Arthur, flanking their king in preparation of the ambush.

As the air pulsed with anticipation, Merlin’s eyes strayed towards Gwaine, like always. The man’s face was grime, ready for battle, as he surveyed the surrounding area.

Merlin was distracted as a noise came from behind him, and he quickly spun around to face the intruder. The bandits with magic were walking smoothly towards him and Merlin panicked—do I attack? He changed his mind quickly, not thinking about it too much, as he turned around and ran towards his group to warn them.

Merlin guessed the obvious panic on his face spurred the knights to run towards him, but it was too late. One of the bandits threw a spell at him with a force that threw him to the side, hitting a nearby tree.

He vaguely heard the shouting of the knights as the attackers surrounded them, all eight of them chanting under their breaths as they did so, forcing the circle of the roundtable knights to still. Merlin groaned in pain, lifting himself.

Protect them. Protect them.

His only goal—and it has been since the beginning. In that moment, Merlin realized how unimportant it was that they never knew about the magic. The knights knew how much Merlin loved them, so everything else was secondary. Merlin, with or without his magic, would always put himself in danger if it meant his friends can see the next day.

Pulling himself up with the tree, he shook his head and listened to the droning monologue of the leader.

Same shit, as always.

Merlin couldn’t help but laugh—loudly. The monotonous speaker abruptly stopped talking as they all stared at Merlin laughing.

He couldn’t help it, honestly.

The leader narrowed his eyes at him, “What’s so funny, boy?”

Arthur and Gwaine shook their heads in looks that screamed “shut up, Merlin,” but Merlin held his stomach as the laughter subsided, the smile still on his face as he replied, “Nothing, I swear,” but then another chuckle escaped as the leader frowned at the answer.

When one of the lackeys stepped forwards with a sword pointing at him, Merlin sobered up, a smirk in place, as he lifted his hands in surrender, “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you! It’s just...every time this happens, one of you always explains why you are doing what you are doing. And every time, and I mean every time, it is revenge for what Uther did. Who, by the way, is long dead. Arthur, like always, gets blamed for his father’s actions. Are you guys just daft, or does everyone truly believe Arthur is actually Uther? It’s quite simple, really. Uther was a tyrant—I think we can all agree on that, but attacking his son? What’s the purpose? To show the King that magic can never be used for good? You know when all he sees is magic being used against him, of course he will hate it. What other choice would he have, hmm?”

Merlin’s smile dropped off as he shook his head, walking towards the stunned group, “Honestly! I get it, I truly do, but this will never solve anything. You are perpetuating the violent cycle, you understand?”

At Merlin’s question, the leader growled, “All I see is a stupid servant running his mouth.”

Merlin’s face lit up, “Interesting. Nothing took, then?”

He heard Gwaine sigh, “Merls?”

Merlin looked over at the knight, who had a small smile on his face, “Yes, Sir Knight?”

Gwaine laughed a bit, “You might be slightly more dramatic than me, and that’s impressive, to say the least. You think your lovely wit could save us?”

Merlin smiled at the knight, his heart feeling more full than it has all week, and winked, “Well, it was worth the shot?”

And as they just continued smiling at each other, Merlin saw the leader blink and shake his head, muttering something to one of his followers with nothing but malice on his face.

Merlin watched, almost in slow motion, as the next spell was directed at Gwaine.

That wasn’t the plan.

Merlin yelled, “No!” as he sprinted and leapt in front of the knight as the spell hit home. Merlin gasped in pain, staring in shock at the sizzling hole in his abdomen, and he heard the leader laugh.

Merlin's focus narrowed solely on the leader, everything else drowning out as that malicious laugh continued. The bandits all started chanting once more, circling the group, and when he started hearing the grunts of pain from his friends, Merlin’s mind, in a moment of pure clarity, repeated: protect them.

So, with a hole in his stomach, Merlin straightened up and locked eyes with the people hurting his friends.

“This stops. Now.”

And before they could get another word in, Merlin’s eyes burned the brightest molten gold. The wind whipped, the sky darkened, and the ground shaking with Merlin being the center of it all. The bandits backed up hastily, staring at Merlin like a newly found god, and Merlin blinked at the action—their actions full of desperate fear, and that wasn’t right. He never wanted to be feared.

Merlin let the power steep into his voice, “Leave now and never hurt anyone ever again. Do you understand?”

They all shook their heads, bowing at the waist for him, and right before they ran with their tails between their legs Merlin could swear he could hear their whispers of Emrys.

The minute they were out of sight, Merlin sagged. His entire body felt like it was on fire, his brain had pulsating pain that felt like lightning behind his eyes. And when his strength left, he felt two people’s arms wrap around him.

Looking up with all his effort, Merlin saw Lance and Gwaine on either side of him, the latter with a sword up at the abnormally silent group.

The world was blurring when Merlin heard Gwaine snarl at the king, “You take one wrong step and I will run you through.” And even in his state of delirium, Merlin knew Gwaine meant it.

“Gwaine,” Merlin whispered, the pain lacing through his body in waves, “it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Gwaine bit back still facing Arthur and the knights with his sword raised high.

Merlin smiled sadly, staring at his knight, “Gwaine?”

That got the man’s attention, the anger draining out of him the minute their eyes met, and Merlin continued quietly, “Thank you.” The “thank you for not hating me for having magic, thank you for protecting me, thank you for being here” went unsaid, but not unheard.

Merlin saw Gwaine’s eyes water, “You’re going to be fine, Merls, you’ve been through worse, you know? This is nothing.”

Merlin let out a wet laugh, “Yeah, maybe.”

Gwaine was speaking again, but Merlin couldn’t hear him anymore. The pain became too much then, so Merlin let the black spots in his vision take over, and he welcomed oblivion with a smile.

—————

The next few times Merlin woke up, he was against someone’s front with a horse galloping at full speed underneath him. He would groan, but quickly succumb to the pain again.

The first time he could actually open his eyes completely, he was staring at a very familiar ceiling. Merlin gasped as he tried to move, his hand flying to his stomach.

“Merlin! Don’t move, my boy,” Gaius’s worried face came into view, “You need some rest, but you’re going to be just fine.”

Merlin figured as much when he took the hit, knowing his magic wouldn’t let him die that easily.

He blanched, remembering what happened, “Gaius?” he rasped out, his voice felt scratchy like he had been screaming for hours, “Is everyone…?”

Gaius frowned, but Gwaine, who Merlin just noticed was sitting right next to him, answered for him with nothing cheerful on his face, “Everyone is fine, thanks to you.”

Merlin sighed in relief, looking back up to the ceiling, and he heard Gaius pat Gwaine as he moved out the door leaving the two of them alone.

They sat in a comfortable silence until Merlin asked, his voice small, “Gwaine, what happened?”

Gwaine huffed out a breath, out of anger or pain, Merlin didn’t know, as Gwaine moved to sit next to him on the cot. Merlin grunted a little as he moved to make room for him, and Gwaine frowned at the noise.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

Gwaine looked at him in clear disbelief, “I’m sure.”

Merlin sighed, looking up at the knight, “Tell me?”

Gwaine nodded in defeat, “I threatened princess, as you know,” Merlin nodded, a frown forming, “I was going to throw you over my shoulder and run for it.”

Merlin blinked, “That was your plan? Even when you’re mad at me, you were still going to take me with you?”

Gwaine’s eyes widened, “I’m not mad at you! What made you think that?”

Merlin looked to the side, “You’ve been avoiding me, Gwaine, I know it.”

Gwaine flinched, “Oh. That.”

After the moment of heavy silence, with Merlin’s heart feeling like it was breaking, he moved on, “Whatever, you obviously didn’t need to use that plan since I’m home. What happened?”

Gwaine smiled a bit here, “Well, Sir Lancelot and I stood our ground. Lance had a lot to say about you for a man of such a few words. While I lifted you up, and took you away from the group, Lance told them everything. Arthur,” Gwaine shook his head, “he looked betrayed and hurt at first, but after a day of Lance’s tales of you, and mentioning how you literally just saved us once again without bloodshed, Arthur finally came to his senses—especially when I kept threatening him.”

Merlin started crying, unwillingly, blindly grabbing for Gwaine’s hand, “So, what now? Everyone knows and I’m not dead? Am I banished? Hated? Feared?”

Gwaine’s face was uncharacteristically soft as he wiped the tears from Merlin’s face with his other hand, “Now...now, we make history and show these assholes what they’ve been missing. Merlin,” he tightened his grip on his hand, “I always knew something was different about you. And I never, ever, feared you for a moment—even as you made those bandits shit themselves.” Gwaine let out a small laugh at that, the soft smile returning to his face, “I don’t know how many times I need to say this until it gets through that stubborn head of yours: I came to Camelot for you and you alone. No princess or wealth keeps me here, you do.” Gwaine stilled his hand on Merlin’s face, “And if I needed to, I wouldn’t have hesitated to grab you and run—I’ve always been prepared for that, actually.”

Merlin kept crying, “Then why?” Why have you been distancing yourself? Why did you make me think you hated me? Why are you so loyal to me?

Gwaine's face fell at Merlin’s hoarse and quiet question, “I’m not good enough for you. I knew how I felt, and I knew you deserved better than me. I haven’t stayed in one place this long before, and I thought if you knew that you were the only person keeping me here that I would scare you off before we even had a chance.”

Merlin stared at his knight, understanding and sadness flowing through him, “Gwaine,” he choked out, “you’re an idiot.”

Gwaine gaped, undignified, “Hey! Bold words for a man who is utterly vulnerable at this moment.”

Merlin laughed lightly, “An idiot,” he continued, “who I love.”

Gwaine’s eyes shone brightly, “Love,” the disbelief in his voice hurting Merlin’s heart, “You love me? Merls, are you sure?”

Merlin laughed again at the absurdity of the wild man in front of him, “Yes, Gwaine, I am sure. Only if you wouldn’t mind facing the uncertainty of my future—“

Merlin was cut off with a loud, surprise gasp when Gwaine threw himself on top of him for a hug, then grabbing his face, and placing a rather soft kiss to his lips.

“Merlin. I would rather be at your side, with the threat of the world crushing us, than anywhere else. You, my magically beautiful friend, will never feel alone again in this life. I give you my sword, my heart, and everything I am—if you will have me.”

Merlin nodded, his eyes watering once more, and smiled into the next kiss with his knight.

Merlin felt the burden of destiny in his soul lift in his embrace with Gwaine—and he knew, deep in his heart and soul, that with Gwaine at his side, they could face any uncertainty coming their way.

#ashley writes #merlin fanfiction #merwaine fanfic #merwaine #merlin #gwaine #hurt merlin #protective gwaine #bad things happen bingo #passing out from pain #gwaine is beautiful and protective and loves merlin #happy ending #pls lmk if it sucks asddfgg #bamf merlin #hurt/comfort #mergwaine

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dilfbatman · 4 years

Note

mayhaps hc’s about percy as a kid 🥺

i love baby percy he’s the light of my life and reason to be 🥺

—

- baby percy was a force to be reckoned with you can’t tell me that little percy wasn’t an absolute hurricane with legs! he’s bouncing off the walls, running his heart out, and is canon to be strong even as a little tyke - he’s a powerhouse, a cute cuddly one at that, and is the source of sally’s happiness (his bright green eyes, constant messy hair, and blue bandaids are a staple in regards to baby perce!)

- i think little percy was someone who maybe not a lot of people would talk to but who people wanted to be friends with! to some he seemed hyper and funny, to others he seemed cool and protective, and to some they thought they could mess w him but what they didn’t gather was that little percy ALWAYS stands up for himself and others and can pack a mean punch which would then lead him to the principal’s office - sally would chastise percy but he was so earnest in that people were bullying him and a few other kids so he HAD to stand up to them and do something about it! and sally was never mad persay, she was just worried that percy would get really hurt or he’d really hurt someone else (he never truly hurt anyone that bad, he just gave a few warnings and those kids never bothered him or those kids ever again)

- i think sally put percy in a lot of sports as a kid so he could channel his energy and rage into something productive - you name it percy has done it! taekwondo, karate, sambo, ballet, gymnastics, baseball, lacrosse, soccer, basketball, track & field, and ofc swimming! somehow he was an ACE in all of these (especially swimming) and he was considered a child prodigy (shout-out to his innate battlefield reflexes and for just being a cool kid tbh)

- as a kid and even now he’d struggle w dyslexia & adhd and teachers thought that he had a very vivid imagination as he’d see monsters and creatures but no one would believe him :’( so he adopted a tough facade and could be a class clown when he wanted so instead of kids and adults thinking he’s “crazy”, they’d think he’d be telling tall tales for the fun of it (but him & sally always knew the truth)

- like i said before, little perce is a powerhouse so it just so happened that during field trips and in class his emotions would get the best of him and sometimes a classroom would flood, a pipe would burst, and the water fountain would spew out water like crazy - most often percy was afraid that it was HIM that did it but then he thought that it’s not like he’s some superhero, these were all just... flukes and coincidences ofc! (note: they were not - he’s just that powerful and unhinged even as a baby boy) and since he could never really control his anger/rage/annoyances i think as a kid it definitely was a frequent occurrence - and i do think that sometimes baby percy created earthquakes and was often the main reason why his school had plenty of earthquake drills

- on a more sweeter note hehe :’) i also think percy as a kid would do his homework at his mama’s sweet shop! he’d take candy and sally would feed him a bunch of sweet treats if he did his homework and went to his tutoring classes (listen all he wanted was some candy and cake and cookies and he cannot be blamed he is absolutely valid and i love him) and sally would make sure he had a glass of water or a water bottle with him at all times bc not only did it provide healing properties, strength, and calm - it’s also important to HYDRATE!

- something i hold near and dear to my heart is that as a kid during valentine’s day baby percy absolutely got tons of valentine’s <3 he’d go home and devour all the candy while sally smiled and kept all his lil cards in a box for safekeeping! baby percy loved the holidays bc there’d be a parade! sally would always make time on halloween to dress percy up as a baby guppy and take pictures of him walking around and making lil fish faces <3 fun fact: sally has kept every single card, project, paper, whatever it may be that percy has made and safely kept in his box because she wants to remember these things and hey he’s a demigod (he may not know it yet, but she NEEDS these things so she can just remember him)

- not to be sappy but i do genuinely think that a lot of percy’s goodness is innate and yes sally has absolutely taught him well and lead by example but i do also think that percy is just genuinely GOOD. he’s kind, empathetic, protective, caring, honest, earnest, trustworthy, respectful, intelligent etc... you name it that’s HIM! all he wants is for him and his mom to be happy and safe and even as a little kid he thought it was his job to protect everyone and it was until sally sat him down and told him that she loves him so much but she wants him to look out for himself too! he’s so caring and sweet and he tilted his head and looked at his mama and sally thought that god he looked so much like his father and he carried the better parts of poseidon’s personality and she was just hit w a burst of love and she hugged percy so tight and cried happy tears and percy did too bc he’s absolutely a mama’s boy and loves her more than anything in the world entire world and he gave her his signature grin/smirk with the most bright eyes and said that he loves her THIS MUCH (he put his hands all the way out) and sally said she loves him THIS MUCH (she put her hands all the way out) and they did their secret special handshake and hugged it out and they’re just the softest more pure and genuine mother/son duo i love them and i love him!

#percy jackson #pjo #GRACE THIS IS SO LONG AND I AM SO SORRY I JUST GOT SUPER SOFT 🥺🥺🥺#baby percy loml my HONEY!#asks #percy jackson headcanons #he’s BABIE FR 😳🥺#grace tag #thank you for indulging me grace 🥺

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writing-red · 4 years

Text

Like Father Like Daughter

Father! Remus x Daughter! Reader

Also Reader x Oliver Wood, but lightly, a couple kisses xx

Authors note: I SUCK at time, years, and counting, I do not know what the deal is in 1975 in the HP universe so please please excuse that, merci lovely reader. Also! This was requested over a year ago although, as we know that’s about how long it takes me to write shit.

Request: Remus having a 7th year prefect daughter and not knowing until he teaches her?

Summary: Set during POA

Warnings: ANGST and daddy issues! Death! Bc I like trauma

Word Count: 1.9k

After an incredibly eventful train ride to school, and ensuring that Harry and his friends were okay, Remus hurried up to the headmaster's office. As it was his first year teaching there, and considering all that was going on with Sirius Black Dumbledore scheduled a meeting with the new professor.

“I don’t anticipate it will be an easy year, but no year here is ever easy or simple. Especially since Harry arrived on campus,” Dumbledore said.

“It was nice to see him again, he’s gotten so old, and he looks so much like James,” Remus said, melancholy lacing his voice.

“The boy could use some good positive reinforcement from somebody who knew his parents so personally. Please, do not share information regarding Sirius, I would rather not bring him down. Instead, I would prefer he focuses on his studies. Especially since we have such a talented Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year,” Dumbledore said.

“Of course, now is that all for now?” Remus asked as he gathered his things, wanting to spend some time on the grounds before the student's arrival.

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll enjoy this year. I believe you’ll be pleasantly surprised by what Hogwarts has to offer.”

“I’m sorry?” He asked, pausing to look at the headmaster, confused by his statement on the school.

“Oh nothing,” Dumbledore said with one of his signature winks.

Remus smiled, unsure how else to respond. “Well, I’ll see you at the feast later tonight.”

“Certainly,” Dumbledore said, seemingly having forgotten about his odd statement, already focusing on something on his desk.

Meanwhile, Y/n went along with her boyfriend, Oliver Wood to the feast.

“I wonder what kind of crazy shit will happen this year,” you said, thinking aloud.

“Maybe we’ll get a somewhat normal year for once,” he proposed, hopefully. “And a good bloody season.”

“At Hogwarts?” You retorted. “Impossible. And of course you’ll have a good season, you’re the best damn quidditch player I’ve ever seen.”

Despite a bit of red flushing his cheeks, Wood brushed off the comment. “I wonder who this years Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is.”

“I haven’t heard anything,” she said with a shrug.

“Well we’ll see,” he said and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Enjoy your feast with Weasley.”

You smiled back at him, “Oh I will, it’s a promise.” you said before splitting, as you went to go meet with Percy Weasley, and Dumbledore before the feast's official start.

The feast went as normal for Y/n, she was mostly preoccupied with seeing friends she hadn’t seen since the last school year ended, and her head girl duties. Being a Gryffindor she felt that the year would present some challenges, considering the difficulties her house had caused in the past two years. Y/n had nothing against Harry Potter, in fact she was quite fond of him, having tutored him in a couple of subjects. Although, she understood the trouble he and his friends were fond of.

Remus on the other hand was unnerved at the announcement of the Head Girls last name, La Rosa. Her being Head Girl meant she was a seventh year, meaning she must have been born in 1976. The math happened in his head faster than Remus would like to admit. Remus absolutely knew a La Rosa in 1975 who managed a disappearing act after a couple of months together, and a small scare of sorts. Although, he brushed off the arithmetic, and Dumbledore’s dubious wink with a large swig of wine, which earned him a judgemental scoff from Snape.

Eventually, of course, the feast ended and the tired first years returned to their rooms while friends and couples reunited, and Filch stalked the halls with Mrs. Norris close behind.

Both Remus and Y/n’s day started off with breakfast in the Great Hall as each had a first period in their schedule. Y/n’s day kicked off with charms, and ended with Defense Against the Dark Arts. She ate breakfast with Oliver and a couple of their friends, yet left early enough so that the two could walk to class together without him being late. They had a couple of classes together but knew that as the year went on their other half would respectively get quite busy.

Y/n was having a fantastic first day, excited for lunch she made her way from the Towers to the Hall, which was abuzz with talk of “Professor Lupin.”

“He let us do actual magic in class!” you heard one third year exclaim with a great deal of excitement.

“I’m just glad he didn’t prattle on about his book deal for the entire period,” some Ravenclaw said to their friend which made Y/n laugh.

“How was Snape?” Wood asked as you sat down next to him, he had sent a couple of letters over summer bragging about how he wouldn’t be taking Potions, and she was.

“The same, angry that he isn’t teaching DADA, now I’m more intrigued by this Professor Lupin,” you responded.

“Merlin, Y/n, it’s the only bloody thing I’ve heard all day!”

“I heard someone earlier say, ‘I’m glad he didn’t brag about his book deal through the whole class.’” You responded with a giggle.

“I can’t believe they ever hired that man,” Wood said with a snort.

With that the two of you started lunch, your friends Ethel and Roberto joining you only a little while into the block.

You had a couple of classes and a free period from the time spanning between lunch and when you finally got to step into Professor Lupin’s class. The buzz about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. had turned into a roar in just a few hours.

Despite being early you were not the first student in the class. It being a seventh-year course there were only eight of you taking the class, and there were already five of your peers sitting at desks. One of which being your boyfriend who had saved you a seat near the front of the class.

“You are late La Rosa,” he rudely teased as you set your things down and sat next to him.

“You know I can go find another seat, right?” As if on cue the last of your classmates filed in and filled the last couple of seats.

“Can you?” He asked with a goofy smile plastered over his face.

“Well Weasley owes me a favor and I’m sure you’d love to sit next to him for the whole three hour period.” “Oh that’s just cruel sweetheart.” Before you could retort your new professor walked into the room, immeadiatley silencing the class. Oftentimes the last class of the day meant students were groggy, and had shorter attention spans than usual, but this class was on high alert.

“Good afternoon, let’s go ahead and introduce ourselves however you deem fit. My name is Remus Lupin, and I am clearly your Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor this year, any questions?”

In response you along with a couple of your peers shook your head ‘no’.

“Fantastic, let’s go ahead and start with our Head Boy, if you could introduce yourself sir?”

Percy excitedly introduced himself to the class, not failing to make the new professor aware of his many, many achievements, after him a slytherin you had a strong level of distaste for, and on it went until you were left as the last student to introduce herself.

“My name is Y/f/n Y/m/n La Rosa, I want to write spell books once I leave Hogwarts, my favorite Quidditch team is Puddlemere, and my favorite food is milk chocolate although I’ve been told chocolate isn’t a food I disagree.” “I have to take your side Miss. La Rosa, chocolate is in fact a food, and deserves its own damn food group,” Lupin shot you a smile, then looked around at the small class. “I feel like you should all be writing down that your professors favorite food is chocolate for when you have to impress me at the end of the year.”

Remus was genuinely confused by Y/n’s presence. He had decent intuition and something about the seventh year was throwing him off, and it wasn’t bad which honestly only confused him more. He decided it would be better to get ahead of it in order to not let his thoughts ruin his teaching.

“Well that’s it, class is over. Miss La Rosa if you wouldn’t mind staying after class for just a moment?” “Of course professor,” you said.

“Ooh in trouble already?” Oliver said and gave you a peck to which you rolled your eyes. “I’ll see you in the common room later love.” “Don’t forget our meeting tonight Y/n,” Percy said as he sauntered out the room which earned a second eye roll from you.

Even though it didn’t take long, it felt like an eternity for the room to clear. All of a sudden your throat was in your heart, or, something. Whatever it was something was happening.

“I know this is going to come off as odd but I have an important question,” Lupin said, his eyes kind, no sense of a reprimand coming.

“Sure Professor, what is it?”

“What’s your mothers name?”

You figured he noticed your last name, and had maybe worked with your mum.

“Marie Dulcinea La Rosa,” you said. “Why?”

Remus’ mind started racing at a million miles an hour. “Did she attend Ilvermorny?” “Yes, is everything alright?” “I’m sorry dear, just two more questions.”

You responded with a single nod.

“Did your mother ever tell you who your father is, and are you a werewolf?”

A look of shock crossed your face and you clutched your bag. “I’m not supposed to answer that question professor.” “Y/n, I am, I also dated a Marie La Rosa in 1975, that same Marie attended Ilvermorny.”

“Are you trying to insinuate-”

“Yes.”

You walked out of the classroom as fast as your feet could carry you. You weren’t quite sure where you were going but you were crying and you wanted to be as far away from Remus Lupin as possible and your mind was far to occupied to think up a destination. Somehow that destination ended up being Dumbledore’s office, which by some means was open to you.

“You must have known, you know everything.” Not the best choice of words but it seemed to get the point across.

“That Professor Lupin is your father? Yes dear I did happen to know that.”

“And how long have you known that?” “Since the year you were born, Y/n, your mother and father both fought in the war and your mother came to me when she was pregnant with you. She didn’t want your father to know because she wanted him to stay and fight when she couldn’t. She wanted to raise you away from the war but she couldn’t ask him to abandon the cause.” “Does he know that she’s dead?” “No I am afraid that he doesn’t.” “Marie is dead?”

You turned to see Remus Lupin standing in the entrance of the office. He was distressed and had clealry followed you to the headmasters office.

You gave a curt nod to answer his question.

“Y/n, I am so sorry, I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have ever let your mother think that I would value anything over her and you.”

“You have to know how hard it is growing up a werewolf with absoluetly no help. With no one to help you through your first transition, with no one to tell you that everything’s going to be okay. Then on top of that growing up thinking that you were nothing to your father, and losing your mum at 14?”

Remus reached into his pocket and pulled out a mostly intact chocolate bar and held it out, towards his daughter.

“Let me fix it? Please.” It was a plea, and a kind request, an apology, all tied up in a chocolate bar.

#i cried while writing this #accidental angst #Remus Lupin #harry potter fanfiction #oliver wood x reader #werewolf #remus lupin dad

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