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sp00kworm · 5 months

Text

One Word

Pairing: Enchanted Armour/Knight (Sir Jurdanus Dawling) x Reader

Warnings: Fighting, Fantasy Violence

Summary: An Enchanted Knight finds you amidst a mushroom circle and your life is never the same after.

Rain dripped down the back of your neck as you flopped onto the mossy floor. There was no way out of a mushroom circle. They were carefully laid traps, hidden behind roots and dotted in intricate patterns which made them hard to predict. Whatever Fae had hidden this one was powerful indeed. The mushrooms were like iron and the small pebbles between skipped upwards at your face when you attempted to break the circle. Your fingers were numb from trying to force them between the littler mushrooms. It was impenetrable, and eventually you would be food for the Fae who wanted to steal you away. There was some Fae that didn’t eat mortals, but those were far and few between. The only thing you could do was try and think of deals you could try to trick the creature which came to collect you. If it took them longer than a few more days, you would be dead anyway. There was an odd comfort in that. You wouldn’t be subjected to the whims of whatever the Fae decided to do with you. The other hope was someone stumbling along your path, but few would be able to taint the Fae circle enough to let you free, and you didn’t have much you could offer them anyway.

How many more hours would you last, you wondered? Defeated, you cradled your hand and sat inside the circle, massaging the tender joints as you watched the sun move overhead. It was nearly evening time, the sun was beginning to set along the horizon, threatening the sky with orange and pink. The trees rustled and birds sang their evening tunes as you picked at the pebbles around you and flicked them against the ward. The pebbles pinged back at you like a game, and for a time it was entertaining. Sodden moss wet your bottom and you tried to ignore the wetness on your backside, sitting on the moss in favour of the agony of sitting on several rocks. The old trees creaked in the wind, and you removed your satchel to look at the mushrooms and herbs you had managed to collect before getting stuck.

Suddenly, the whole woodland went quiet. No animal made a murmur as the wind continued to blow gently through the leaves. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, waving with the wind as there was a great ‘thunk’ in the distance. The heavy clunk of armour thudded along the winding path between the old, twisted trees. The blood in your limbs went cold and your heart leaped into your throat. You stood up again and watched down the old dirt path as a great, heavy suit of armour rounded the corner. The armour was maybe six and a half feet tall, and the heavy cloak fastened about the shoulders made it all the more imposing. The steel was stained with black carbon, and the details were once orange copper. The details were green in most places but the emblem in the centre of the chassis, once bright, was a Swan, swooping upwards towards the sky, its neck bowed gracefully. There was a crown around its neck, resting on the top of where its wings were spread. The Knight rounded the trees closest to you, his armour clanking before he stood, the visor fixed on you trapped in the circle of mushrooms.

“Sir!” You shouted, “Please could you help me out of this faery circle?”

The Knight tilted his head, watching you carefully as his other hand not rested on the trunk of the oak, reach for his sword. He had two on his back, strapped underneath the great fur cloak which lined his shoulders. Watching him reach for the sword you panicked and reached for your bag, attempting to find something which would prove you were not Fae.

“Please, Sir...” You rummaged, throwing the pouches of weeds and herbs you had collected before you dragged out a small iron link you had found. You clenched it between your hands and showed him your skin, “Please... I’m no Fae. I got trapped here while foraging. I promise!”

The Knight looked at the link before he thundered over, the dark metal of his armour glimmering in the setting sun. The copper detailing was sickly green, almost falling off, and his neck piece squeaked with rust as he drew the long sword from his back. He turned his stance and looked at the mushrooms before there was a rattle through the armour and his hand reached forwards to where the magical barrier lay. The barrier rippled under his hand, the magic caving like a bubble, but still resisting. With another shuddering rattle the Knight grasped his sword by the hilt and stabbed it forwards. The warding screamed as the blade burst through the magic, sending sparks flying as he heaved the iron through it, to the floor. When he reached the floor, the Knight turned the blade swiftly and severed several of the mushroom caps. The barrier faded with a hiss and just like that, you were free.

You tried not to gawp as the Knight sheathed his weapon and stood back, resting his hands on his hips. You quickly hopped out of the circle and sighed with relief as you collected your items. When you finished you looked back at the Knight.

“Thank you, Sir...” You asked, wondering what the Knight’s name was. He probably had a House Name.

The Knight shuddered inside his armour again before the joints clicked and a voice echoed inside, “Sir... Sir, S-Sir...” He couldn’t seem to say his name.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, “Sir?”

Again the voice echoed from inside, “Sir...Sir...”

You frowned softly at him before daring to reach for the visor which covered his eyes. He let you grasp the metal, subdued and quiet.

“Here let me open this so you can...” You said before tugging the visor. It remained firmly shut. With a grunt you tugged it hard. It stayed down, as though it was glued.

The pieces fell into place then, and you let your hands fall to his broad shoulders. You fisted the fur. It was well cared for but old and holes had opened in the bottom of the soft leather upper. The crest wad old, battered and stained.

“You’re cursed aren’t your?” You asked as you stood flat footed again on the woodland floor.

The Knight nodded his head and tapped the crest in the centre of his chest. There was the house crest and a small moto painted intricately underneath.

“Alte Volant”

“I’m no specialist but this is definitely noble house armour... but, well I guess I could help you, as thanks for helping me?” You offered with a shaky sigh.

The Enchanted Knight nodded, his neck squeaking a little, and offered a hand to you. You looked down and then realised he was offering to carry your bags. Carefully you gave him the larger of the two and kept your satchel.

As your bag landed in his gauntlet, the air fizzed and a blue skinned Fae stepped out from a tree, their eight eyes twitching at the sight of the broken circle. Quickly, you whipped around, but the Knight was faster. The Fae span with another hiss of fury, her hands raised, crackling with blue magic as the tree roots curled violently under the woodland floor. As she clenched her teeth, magic shot from her, and the Knight grabbed his shield from his back, the great steel plated with old iron. He dragged you behind him in a flash as the bolt clanged against the shield and dissipated like water, falling as mist f. The Fae hissed again her body morphing into the trees as she skittered around and observed you both through one great black eye.

“A suit of armour playing Knight.” She gloated, “You died a long time ago, Knight!” She hung from the tree and reached her scales fingers for his helmet, “Iron is unbecoming. Iron is cheating.”

Instead of an answer, he sliced her fingers off with a strike of his blade and pushed forwards. The Fae screamed, and you covered your ears, watching as the Knight slammed her head against his shield then again, with a downwards arch, sending the Fae flying against the floor. There was a great screech before the iron blade sliced through her neck. You jumped as blue blood spurted up the trees and shook behind a trunk as the Knight wiped his blade with a clump or moss. He looked up and reclined his head at you. Without him, you would be dead.

You took a deep breath, “Come on, let’s get out of the woods.” You beckoned him to follow you as you grabbed your bags and made your way down the path. The thump of heavy armour behind you was the only indication you had of the Knight following you.

Luckily, your home was on the outskirts of town, tucked against the woods you had just been trapped in. The stone cottage had smoke billowing out of the chimney still, so that was a good sign that the cottage would be warm still. You opened the gates and looked back at the Knight following you. He paused by the gate and stared for a moment at the small, cobbled path to your home before he stepped inside the garden and waited again. You looked at the blue blood which had stained his armour before closing the gate and leading him inside to your home. The door creaked a little as you let the hunk of armour inside and you closed it firmly before turning the key in the lock and heading to the hearth. As you stirred the hearth the Knight stood by the table looking up at the dried plants and flowers.

“Come and sit down, I don’t know of you can still feel the cold, but it’ll at least be better than standing by the door.” You waved him over before getting a damp cloth from the kitchen area for him to clean the blood off himself. Graciously he reclined his head and placed a gauntlet over his chest. He began carefully cleaning the blood from the grooves of the paint.

While he cleaned himself you placed a couple of logs onto the stirred flames and looked into the ashes. Sat at the back of the hearth was the charcoal coloured egg you had found so long ago. It was a dragon egg. Abandoned or stolen, you didn’t know, but there was life in it as it wiggled gently and soaked in the heat of the new fire. The Knight caught your gaze and peered at the wobbling egg in fascination. A disapproving grunt was his only comment.

“Yes, I know. But I couldn’t leave it to die with the Fae.” You reasoned softly as you emptied your bag onto your work surface. The Knight shook his head but continued his work.

“How about we look for your crest? I have an old history book somewhere, and it has most of the noble houses in it.” You offered.

His visor turned slightly but he made no effort to tell you he wanted to have a look. Ignoring his silence, you went to get the book.

The book was very old. Your great, great grandmother had taken it before the great collapse. Many of the old houses no longer existed, after the revolution, but a few still remained in the far reaches of the country. You wondered just how long this Knight had been wandering. With a thud you placed the book on the table and leafed through to the catalogue of old house emblems. There were around a hundred, and you took a breath before beginning to scan for the old, battered coat of arms which was printed onto his chest plate. A swan in flight. It was a regal link. The Knight had maybe been close to the Queen before the collapse and that was many years ago. He could have been cursed a long time.

“Edelwyn… nope that’s a tree. Oakenfast… no that’s an acorn. Unicorn… a hare. That’s a peacock…” You turned the pages as the Knight creaked next to the fire, warming the leathers of his skirts before he began to brush the dirt from his cape with a hard brush. His weapons were next and you watched him for a moment as he pulled out carefully stored oils and cloths and began to meticulously clean the Fae blood from the iron. A few more pages revealed nothing until a crown appeared.

“Well, we might be down the right track, Sir!” You cheered as you reached for the kettle and filled it from a pail of water. Once it was over the fire you fetched the book and sat in the other chair on the large, overstuffed pillows. You looked at the crest on his chest again and hummed, flicking between three pages before you found it.

“Dawling!” You cried out as you hopped out of the chair and showed the Knight the book. The crest on his chest was penned beautifully with inks of good quality. You beamed at his helmet as you pointed at the crowned swan.

With a faint creak of metal, the knight reached up to take the book from your outstretched hands. There was the faint sound of wheezing breathing through the visor of his helmet as he touched the page with the crest and then carefully, like he was caressing a baby bird, traced the letters of his family name.

“Dawling was the closest family to the Queen.” You told him quietly, “Before the revolution the Dawling family were the last near her and all of them were said to have perished when they burned the castle in the North.”

With a soft nod he looked over the small descriptive notes, his armour flexing gently with tension.

“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth…” You offered a gentle hand to him.

He said nothing but you watched him reach up, his fingers twitching. The metal of his gauntlets was cold against your skin but smooth and well looked after. Warmth enveloped his fingers from your skin and the Knight peered up at you. His visor was shined and as he put the book down you saw a faint glow behind the slats. Behind the metal there were two haunting eyes. The blue eyes glimmered before disappearing again into the darkness of the armour. Wisps of light trailed out of his neck.

“Would you like anything?” You asked as you patted his hand.

The knight shook his head as he looked back at the dancing flames.

“I suppose now I have to call you Sir Dawling!” You joked as you let go of his hand, “I wonder who put this curse on you though…I suppose we will never know now, but you can stay here a while if you like?” You offered.

Sir Dawling turned to look at you and nodded his confirmation, the flames reflecting patterns over his armour.

“I’ll make you the spare room up then.” With a smile you went to collect some linens but you were stopped by Dawling standing by the fire shaking his head, pointing to the sunset in the sky. With a confused stare you followed him towards the door and watched as he stood by the door, collecting his weapons.

“Can you not sleep?” You asked as he packed his weapons. He shook his head again and then made the shape of a butterfly which his armoured hands. When that didn’t work, he pointed to the blue blood which remained on his shield.

“The Fae? I doubt they would come this far out of the woods and beside they can’t get in here without invitation.” You soothed, but Sir Dawling shook his head and insisted, opening the door. He closed it behind him, his leathers squeaking a little as he sat outside the door on a small log. You looked through the glass of the window as he took his whetstone out and continued to work his blades. It seemed as though he was to stand guard. Maybe he didn’t need to sleep? He was after all, cursed. With a sigh you went to the fire and decided to make dinner, pondering on the curses which could have been cast over him before the revolution truly took root in the country. You stoked the fire gently around the dragon egg still nested in the coals. There was an answer to the riddle that you could not see.

A few hours later, after reading numerous books on the subject of magics, you hadn’t found many answers. The key to the Knight’s curse probably laid in the type of magic used to curse him. With more questions than answers you stood from the fire, wrapped tight in a blanket, and took the spare to the door. Quietly you listened behind the wood. Sir Dawling’s armour creaked with the phantom movements of his breathing and quietly the thud of his metal finger against his thigh. Quietly, you opened the door. His helmet turned to face you immediately. Dawling made a shooing motion with his fingers, beckoning you to head back inside. You stepped out onto the stone step and smiled at him before offering him the heavy woollen blanket. You could see he was eyeing the red dyed wool, but instead of giving him a choice you thrust it over his lap and smiled. Carefully, he unfolded the fabric and laid it over his thighs.

“You don’t have to stay out here you know… I feel bad with you out here protecting me and helping me again.” You sighed and rubbed at your shoulders against the cold.

Sir Dawling held his hand up and shook his head, as though it was no trouble at all for him.

“But still… there has to be something I can do?” You asked, “Or maybe give you? I don’t want you out here all night bored…”

Again, Sir Dawling shook his head and you sighed at his protest.

“Fine but please, come back inside if you’re cold or anything. I’ll keep the fire on for the little one anyway.” You joked.

He shook his head at the idea of the dragon egg again and fixed his gaze on the moon and the stars above. You left him there, gazing up at the night sky, and went to bed.

For fourteen nights, Sir Dawling sat outside your cottage. Reluctantly, throughout the day you let him follow you too and from your jobs in town. You didn’t have a particular profession, but you had a lot of room for foraging and several of the plants on your property were useful to the locals. Alongside a bountiful variety of mushrooms there were several herbs like mint and rosemary which were used in salves. Sir Dawling watched the exchanges carefully, wary of the townsfolk who were wary of him. The people asked after him curiously, but most of the people in the town were far too familiar with the workings of the Fae in the woodlands. Once you explained a few of them were even sympathetic towards the poor Knight, though the others knew that a crest meant he was once someone of an important station. Not many looked on the Queen or her Court favourably out in the woods. Still, no one had said anything, yet. Sir Dawling followed behind you, his tattered cloak billowing, and his swords an obvious statement of prowess. He didn’t need to draw them for people to know he was a killer.

“Are you going to sit out here again?” You asked on the fifteenth night as you gave him a clean blanket.

Sir Dawling shrugged his shoulders, and as always, he didn’t reply.

“Well would you like a fire? I don’t know if you can feel cold but I got a little cast iron fire pit while I was out in town today!” You pointed to the edge of the small vegetable patch where the iron pit was located.

With a creak, Sir Dawling stood up, his armour clanking as he reached the fire pit and then bent over in order to drag it closer to the door. He reached for a log from the stack you had down the side of the house, but you had already beaten the Knight to it.

“Here.” You smiled and watched him take the log before you went inside to fetch some kindling and a small scoop of hot coals from the fire inside, “You know, the egg is really close to hatching I think.”

Sir Dawling shook his head at the mention of the egg you had pilfered inside of your home.

“I know you think I’m silly for keeping it…” You said as you handed the Dawling the kindling, “But I couldn’t stand the idea of a poacher getting it! That or the Fae. I just wanted to see if I could save it.”

A long wheezing sigh echoed from the chamber of Sir Dawling’s armour as he took the hot coals from your hands and carefully poured the scoop under the kindling. The twigs quickly caught fire with a few fans of his hands. Gently, he handed you the fire scoop back to take back inside and you did so before returning, running with your oven gloves on, with the dragon egg in hand. The egg gave another shake and a creak as you ran for the fire pit outside.

“SIR DAWLING! FAN THE FLAMES QUICK!” You screeched.

Sir Dawling took the fan from your pocket and fanned the flames as high as he could get them as you rolled the egg gently into the fire. The charcoaled shell cracked with the smoking wood, and you gazed at it in amazement as fiery lines erupted over the surface. The red patterns intertwined with one another, weaving an intricate image over the shell before a small, horned nose butted a chip in the shell. Sir Dawling leaned close enough to watch the egg shake and a small nose batter at the shell again. The flames licked the surface, like a caressing mother, and you dropped the oven gloves in favour of squatting by the pit.

The iron base glowed with the heat as another great creak sounded and a spiked tail flopped into the wood. The wood spat at you as claws raked at the thick calcium, gouging freedom from the egg. Horns prickled the egg and soon a small, growl sounded from the flames. A small, jade green dragon curled in the fire, grumbling in the fire, its tail poised high, and its neck flared defensively. It hissed and spat a small flame. With a firm hand, Sir Dawling removed the fire poker and watched as the dragonling growled, its sharp, ravenous teeth flashing. You looked at the jewelled creature in awe before sitting by the side of the fire and replacing your oven mittens. The dragon spat, its horned prickled in your direction, but you reached gently to move the eggshell out of the fire. Dawling’s helmet shifted to you, watching as you reached into the coals again and then placed the meat you were going to cook into the embers. The dragon grumbled, lowly, like a cat, but quickly turned its slitted pupils on the meat. Its eyes were a glorious orange, like amber. Carefully, its claws hooked the food, and you delighted quietly as it took the food and began chewing at the chicken leg.

“I know…” You whispered at Dawling as he looked to reach for the poker again, “Its stupid to try, but I think I can do this. Its such a beautiful creature.”

With another echoing sigh, Dawling nodded and watched you feed the dragon.

Another leg of a chicken had the small dragon clawing at the edge of the fire pit, its head raised, looking up at you with a gentle rumble. The scales down its neck glittered in the fire light like gems. The dragon was beautiful. Carefully you dared to let the hatchling sniff your hand. The dragon rumbled, sniffed and then carefully pushed its head up into your hand. Underneath its chin, as it raise its head, there was the glittering of a bright, pearl coloured scale, round and fat like a heavy gemstone. It glittered before the hatchling ducked its head again and growled, hopping out of the fire to curl around your legs. The dragon peered up at Sir Dawling from between your legs, and cocked its head, wondering about the suit of armour which clunked in its seat.

“He’s cursed.” You offered down at the dragon, “He did something in his previous life which upset a great sorceress, so she made him like this.” You smiled at Sir Dawling, offering him your hand and a comforting squeeze. His gauntlets creaked with the squeeze, but you smiled at him and then offered the dragon your hand as well.

“Wait… how do I tell if it’s a male or female…” You whispered as you turned back towards the house. The dragon followed dutifully, swinging its tail like a happy kitten as you both slipped through the door.

“How do you like Frasadu?” You asked the dragon. It chirped in response, “So maybe you are a boy…”

Sir Dawling shifted on the log outside, touching the crest on his chest as he watched you go inside, feeling an odd ache where once his chest was. The Knight shook his head, moaning inside the armour as he reached for the poker by the fire.

There was a disgusting sound, like two pieces of metal grinding metal together, which woke you up. With a scream, you shot out of bed, just as there was a great slam against the heavy stone wall of your home. You heard the sing of iron outside, indicating Sir Dawling had drawn his sword. The dragon by the fire stirred, and opened his mouth, his teeth lighting with fire. You rushed to the door, grabbing a dagger before you opened it. Frasadu howled at outside, and you froze by the door as Dawling’s sword sliced through the first fae who dared to get too close. With a rush of odd light, his gauntlet slammed through the chest of another, and you stood, clutching at the iron dagger as the bottom wall of the garden exploded into rubble. A great insect like beast crawled over the stones, its mouth parts slicing against one another again to make the awful noise.

“DAWLING!” You screamed as the insect beast slammed a great, needle like leg down towards him. The Knight rolled and sliced upwards, severing one of the monster’s legs before he made a quick roll back towards you. He held his hand up and you watched as Frasadu roared, flaring his wings before he shot a great ball of explosive fire at the insect. The beast screeched and reared before its abdomen set ablaze, and it sprinted for the trees, howling.

The fae watched their monster run and hissed, their black eyes glinting like oil slick in the fire. A few of them slunk behind the logs and rubbles of your walls, watching as you reached to touch the top of Frasadu’s head. There was a brief moment of silence amidst the crackling rubble, both parties staring at one another. Dawling flicked the blood from his great sword and turned the flat of the blade upwards at the slinking faeries.

“You have dragon lord blood.” A great tall Fae slunk from the rubble, her white hair was braided intricately around her head, holding poisonous thorns and dried hawthorn leaves. Gossamer wings fluttered behind her, placing her before you gracefully. Her face was narrow, impossibly thin in all dimensions, and her skin glittered green with a shine of iridescence. Black eyes bore holes in Sir Dawling as he stepped between the two of you.

“Silence Knight.” She scoffed. Her clawed fingers gripped into a fist and you felt the metallic scream of Sir Dawling as he was thrown in the air, writhing, his armour denting and groaning in on itself, “The incessant smell of your shame bores me.” The Fae spat, “You were cursed for it, and so you will end with it, curled in a ball of molten rotting metal.”

“Wait!” You begged, holding your hands out as you rushed in front of Dawling. He howled above you as his gauntlets were peeled open, each joint pulling outwards from his body. His arms buckled as you stared down the Fae.

“He is protecting me. He saved me…and I have looked after him. He does not deserve this…” You asked of her, “Please, leave him be.”

“I, Ushura, Lady of Glowing Stars, will not let the Fae Slayer live.” Ushura screamed, her fingers gripping the metal, tearing at it with the familiar glow of blue magic. It was the same colour that glowed inside of Sir Dawling’s armour from time to time.

“Please, my lady.” You begged, “What can be done to repay this sin?” You asked.

Ushura spat her disdain at your feet, “Your Queen has long since died. She was the one who asked it of him, but he was the one who carried it out, burning our burrows, slaughtering our children in their nests!” Fury burned in her veins, the weight of a thousand lives, her people, heavy on her shoulders.

“He suffers still for his slight, my lady, but please, let him live.” You asked, “I do not know what I am or who I am to you, yet, but I can only try and make things right.”

Ushura held Sir Dawling aloft, but the crushing of his armour halted, as did his howling. You watched her black eyes soften a little at the edges as she looked at the small hatchling at your side.

“Misee wi. Forni talmas, ui porteh alme.” She spoke gently, watching as the dragon at your side listened, his ear turned to her. The hatchling dipped his head and turned, his head stretched upwards, revealing the pearl beneath his neck. It was strangely, like you knew what to do, and you reached out carefully to touch the pearl. Frasadu hummed against you, and there was a great spark of white, brilliant light. You heard the Fae recoil and hide behind the rubble. There was an unending ringing in your ears before the light dimmed enough to reveal a great shape before you. All the sights and sounds of your ruined home disappeared behind the great shadow. Two wings spread out, shadowing beyond you, far into the corners of your field of vision, and you gasped at the silhouette of the dragon before you.

“Long have I awaited the return of a Dragon Lord. You are the last. The last of the line of glory, of brotherhood and blood ties beyond that of this continent. Frasadu was not a name you came up with, but it has rather always been my name, little one. Together, we are to restore what is broken, to mend the broken reaches of the world. We are destined to be, as your Knight is destined to follow you. Tell them, in the old tongue. As one we once were, and as one we are once again.”

The light receded as quickly as it had appeared and when you could see again you looked at your fingertips touching Frasadu’s chin. The dragon’s orange eyes reflected wisdom of thousands of years, and you smiled as you cradled his chin. With a resolute breath, you turned back to Ushura.

“Ret yue fristra, ret yue gugartha ne.” You told the fae.

“Then as one you must all remain.” She hissed. Her claws unravelled, dropping Sir Dawling from her grasp. The knight landed with a great crash, armour clattering against stone. You tried not to turn, holding the gaze of the Fae as Frasadu puffed his chest out before you, spreading his wings out in a threatening display.

“You must not return here.” You told the Fae, “Sir Dawling is to remain with me.”

Slowly, the Fae disappeared back into the trees, their eyes merging with the shadows as the firelight flickered far from view. You watched them for a moment before rushing to Dawling’s side. The armour laid motionless, laid in dented chunks.

“Please don’t be gone.” You begged quietly as you turned his helmet and desperately tried to place him back together.

There was a groan from somewhere within all the scattered metal and you found a twitching gauntlet in time to hold Sir Dawling’s hand. The metal armour groaned as you took his hand and tears burned in your eyes. You felt the wet drops on your cheeks as Frasadu growled and dragged a crushed greave over by your side.

“I don’t know how to fix this!” You told the hatchling, and the knight who’s head was laid in your lap.

The helmet visor clicked open with a sudden screech of metal. Your tears dripped inside the shell only to see the faint wisps of soul slowly swirling inside. The gauntlet by your feet twitched before it began to float, the dent groaning as the leather gloves stretched. You sobbed as you watched it float, the fingers reaching for you. The tips caressed the apples of your cheeks, slowly shifting downwards before they gave a gentle twitch. The chest plates expanded with a groan.

“Dragon… Lord.” Sir Dawling wheezed, his armour shaking, grinding along the floor as it attempted to fuse back together. You clawed at the pieces, pulling them together as your tears dripped down the once beautifully intricate metal work.

“Can we fix him?” Frasadu rumbled innocently. He sat next to you, his scales against your leg, “His soul is still here.”

“I don’t know how to fix this Dawling…” You wept on the armour with a thundering sob.

“Jurdanus…” Dawling wheezed, “Jurdanus… Dawling.”

“Jurdanus, please, Sir Dawling, I can’t…” You stuttered as you finally placed the rest of the armour together.

The knight gave one final, heaving breath, before the light dimmed behind his visor and the metal went slack against the stone. The fire continued to crackle behind you, dulling the sensation of reality for a moment before you placed your hands on Frasadu wept onto his scales. Sir Jurdanus Dawling didn’t move. The fires crackled as you held Frasadu close, and you looked to the stars in the night sky above. All was quiet, for a moment, before there was a gentle whoosh, like gas being lit. Frasadu grumbled, shifting in your grasp, stretching to look at the armour as a soft blue wisp drifted down towards you both. Amidst the fire you watched the light swift before it formed the shape of a large man. The silhouette drifted closer, and a hand reached to touch your cheek, tracing the same pattern Sir Dawling had drawn.

“Jurdanus?” You asked, hopefully.

The silhouette nodded before spreading its arms and laying backwards. The light disappeared back into the armour. A great whoosh sounded again before the ruined armour before you clanged, shifted, and banged, rumbling violently as it once again took on the perfect shape of a suited knight.

The light behind the visor glowed once more and with a delighted shriek you jumped over Sir Dawling’s hips, delightedly shaking his shoulders as he reached up to steady you by the waist.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” You wiped the tears from your face, sniffling.

Jurdanus nodded his head and reached to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Tenderly, he cupped your face, and there was a whisper of thanks on the wind, although no voice echoed from within the armour. You smiled and howled with laughter as Jurdanus sat up and dragged you with him, holding you close to his chest as he span through the garden, with Frasadu hot on his heels.

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book-place · 1 year

Text

A Million Dreams

Warnings: slight violence, mentions of dying, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Marauders x reader platonic

*not my gif*

Summary: The school years go by a lot faster with a solid group of friends by your side

A/N: Welcome to book place’s one year event!!

Inspired by: A Million Dreams by The Greatest Showman cast

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

I close my eyes and I can see

“Hello there,” Your head shifted over, eyes locking onto a nervous looking boy, standing at the door of your compartment.

“Hi!” You piped back happily, fully turning your body away from the window to face him.

His cheeks tinted a slight pink as his eyes averted to the ground, where he was shuffling his feet back and forth shyly, “All the other carts are full… is it alright if I sit here?”

A wide grin spread onto your face, “Of course!” You beamed, glimmers of hope shooting through you at the idea of being able to make a friend- on your first express ride nonetheless.

Relief sagged onto his face, “Oh, thank you,” He gushed, scurrying over and plopping down onto the cushioned seat across from you, a large trunk with the Hogwarts emblem on it in tow.

“I’m Y/n, by the way,” You informed him, smile yet to drop.

“Peter.” He responded, reaching over and gently shaking your hand.

“Are you a first year as well?” You asked curiously, leaning back in your seat.

He nodded, “Yeah, I’m kind of nervous, though-“

Before he could continue his thought, another knock sounded from the door and the two of you looked up, being met with the sight of two more boys peering through the doorway.

One of them had round-framed glasses and shaggy hair that seemed to stick up every which way while the other had similar black hair that went down to his shoulders.

“Hey there,” The first boy greeted with a toothy grin, “Me and this bloke just met, we’re looking for somewhere to sit. Do you mind?”

“Not at all!” You chirped, glancing at Peter for confirmation. The boy was smiling politely, so you took that as a yes.

“Wonderful!” The boy dove forward, plopping down on the cushion next to Peter rather quickly, sticking a hand in his direction to shake, “I’m James by the way.”

“And I’m Sirius.” The other boy spoke up for the first time, moving to sit across from James and next to you.

“I’m Y/n and this is Peter, we just met as well!”

The bespeckled boy allowed his grin to widen as he settled back in his seat, “I have a feeling that we’re all going to be great friends.”

“Here, here!” Sirius pumped a fist in the air.

A world that's waiting up for me, that I call my own

“Wow,” You breathed out, spinning in a small circle as you took in the room before you, “This room is way different than mine.”

After meeting the three boys on the train, you had all been taken to the sorting ceremony, only to realize with extreme delight that you were all placed into the house of the lion. Now, you had already unpacked your stuff in your dorm and had wandered over to the boys to see what theirs was like.

“I wish we could see yours,” James pouted and crossed his arms, “It's blatant unfairness that boys aren't allowed in the girls dormitories, but girls are allowed to come into ours as they wish!”

You giggled, reaching over and ruffling the boys' already unkempt hair, “It’s only because we’re better than you.”

Just as he opened his mouth to protest in offense, the boy's door crept open and in walked a tall boy with faint scars running over his face.

He blinked once in surprise when all of you stopped what you were doing and turned to face him, “Oh-erm- sorry,” He cleared his throat, “This is my dorm as well,”

Sirius didn’t miss a beat, grinning widely and bounding across the room, linking his arm around the boy's shoulders, “Well then, welcome, roomie!” He exclaimed excitedly.

“Welcome!” Peter piped up as well.

You gave the boy a wave when his eyes landed on you, “I’m not your roommate, but it’s nice to meet you.”

He gave you a small smile before letting his eyes flit over to the others, “I’m Remus.”

“Nice to meet you, Remus.” James greeted happily.

Through the dark, through the door

“Is class always going to be this boring?” You asked with a dramatic yawn.

You and the other boys were in your first class of the school year, History of Magic, and you couldn’t even fathom the idea of sitting through this class almost everyday.

“Normally I’d disagree,” Remus muttered, leaning farther back in his seat, “But I’m about to fall asleep.”

As if right on cue, James let out a quiet snore. His head was propped up in one palm, but slipping slightly.

“Is it almost lunch time?” Peter whined under his breath.

“We’ve only been here for fifteen minutes,” Remus informed him sorrowfully. His words made Sirius look close to tears.

On the other hand, you were extremely happy that the five of you got along so well, you were almost always hanging out with each other.

It made you feel slightly less anxious about the future of your time at Hogwarts knowing that you had a solid group of friends.

Through where no one's been before

“Come on, Remus, don’t be a downer.” Sirius teased with one of those grins of his that promised nothing but trouble.

“I’m not being a downer,” The boy lectured, “I’m trying to keep us alive.”

“Being alive is overrated!” James cheered, jumping up and wrapping an arm around Remus’s neck to bring him into a playful chokehold.

“You say that until we’re dead.” He grumbled in return, easily slipping out of the boy's hold.

“Now, now, guys,” You mockingly scolded, “If Remus wants to go back to the castle and stay with Peter, then he’s more than welcome.”

Said poor boy had fallen asleep while you all waited for the prefect rounds to finish so you could sneak out of the castle and onto the grounds surrounding it.

Lupin rolled his eyes, “Someone has to stay here to keep you bloody idiots out of trouble.”

You and James let out identical whoops of celebration, high fiving and continuing to skip joyfully towards the Forbidden Forest when the bespectacled boy let his grip loosen on Remus.

“We have to be the only first years to ever do this,” James gushed excitedly, “We’re doing something no one our age has ever done before!”

“Maybe that’s because others our age aren’t downright daft enough to even consider this.” Remus hissed, “It’s one thing to sneak into the professors lounge, this is completely different.”

“Cheer up, Remus,” Sirius swung an arm over the boy's shoulder as you all strode through the trees that blocked out all moonlight except for the occasional ray.

“This is going to be so fun,” You surged forwards with a hop in your step.

“Nothing about this is fun!” Remus insisted, beginning to try and chase after you as you got farther and farther away.

But it feels like home

You yawned loudly, trying to muffle it with a hand to the mouth, but still snuggling back farther into the couch cushions.

Around you, your friends were spread out around the great fire in the common room, just hanging out during the very early hours of the morning after having stayed up all night. There was no doubt the sun would be rising very soon.

“You know,” Sirius spoke, “I overheard some Hufflepuff fourth years talking about us,”

“What did they say?” Peter asked curiously from where he was curled up on an armchair with a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

“They were just talking about our prank in the Great Hall the other day,” He smiled slightly, “They called us ‘The Marauders’”

James perked his head up, “What does that mean?”

“It means ‘raider’.” Remus mumbled sleepily. Of course he knew.

A light smile played on the ends of your lips as you let your eyes flutter shut, “That’s badass.”

“I like it,” James agreed, “We should use it.”

That was the last thing you heard before sleep swept you into its embrace. A feeling warmed your heart as well, a feeling of belonging. Of love. Of home.

They can say, they can say it all sounds crazy

“Hurry up!” Remus hissed, “Finch’s gonna be here at any moment and you’re all moving slower than Pete after the Halloween feast!”

“Hey!” Peter whined in complaint, but nobody paid him any mind.

“Remus, this is our first prank of second year, it has to be good.” James insisted, “And might I remind you that you’re the one who thought of it.”

“But I didn’t think we would be setting the dungbombs off in the Slytherin common room!”

There was a glint of mischief in your eyes, “Again, your idea. Not to mention the fact that you’re also the one that figured out the password to their dormitories.”

He shot you a glare, “You were encouraging it!”

“And I will continue to,” You grinned in his direction.

“Shh,” Sirius shushed you, “You’ll wake the bloody snakes up.”

You carefully set the last dungbomb in place and immediately turned on your heel and began sprinting towards the door, the sound of thundering footsteps from the rest of the marauders on your heels.

The door successfully shut behind you right as the first one had gone off.

You all- even Remus- had to try to muffle your cackles of delight all the way back to your own common room after a shout of disgust came from one of the Slytherins and somehow made its way to your ears.

They can say, they can say I've lost my mind

“I’m worried about him, guys,” You mumbled, crossing your arms over your body as you all walked side by side on your way to the infirmary.

James ran a tired hand down his face, letting loose a sigh, “I know, I am too.” He admitted.

“He would tell us if something was wrong, right?” Peter asked timidly, toying with the end of his sleeve.

“I don’t know,” Sirius had a lost look in his eyes, one he almost never had. It was unsettling to see.

“He’s in the hospital wing too much to just be a sickness,” You commented softly, “It’s too much like clockwork- always happening at the same time every month.”

Sirius blanked once in surprise, “I hadn’t thought about that.”

Just then, the four of you quieted when you neared the doors, James holding one of them open until all of you had been able to make your way inside, eyes falling upon Remus, sitting upright against some propped up pillows on the first bed.

His eyes widened when he caught sight of the four of you, “What are you doing here?” He hurriedly rushed out, scrambling to sit even straighter on the bed.

“We came to see you,” Your eyebrows were furrowed as you all drew nearer, “We’re worried about you.”

“You don’t have to be.” His answer came far too quickly for your liking.

“Well, what kinds of friends would we be if we didn’t worry?” James tried to lighten the mood with a smile, but no one joined in.

Remus sighed through his nose, and you suddenly realized how exhausted he looked. How his skin was so pale that his scars were more prominent than normal, and how there were bags under his eyes dark enough to be bruises.

“Just…” You moved to gingerly sit on the end of his bed, “Just tell us what’s going on, Rem, we’re your friends and we deserve to know.”

The boy hesitated, “I… I’ve been keeping something from you all.” He finally muttered out, averting his eyes so stubbornly that nothing could have made him raise his focus from the sheets in front of him at the moment, “I-I’m… I’m a werewolf.”

It was silent.

Remus cringed- or maybe flinched- eyes screwing shut as if in pain.

None of you said anything for a very long time.

“Oh, Remus,” You finally breathed out, reaching across the bed and gently wrapping your arms around the boy.

He blinked in surprise upon impact, “W-what- what are you doing?” He stuttered out, “I-I’m a monster. You shouldn’t be hugging me right now, you should be running away screaming.”

It almost sounded as if he was trying to convince you to do just that.

James appeared at your side, joining in on the hug after a moment, “You’re not a monster, Remus.”

“You’re our best friend.” Sirius came over as well, closely followed by Peter.

The werewolf’s breath seemed to hitch in his throat as tears welled up in his eyes and he hugged every single one of you back tightly, “T-thank you. Thank you all so much.” He began sobbing quietly. You all just held him tighter.

Eventually, Madame Pomfrey came in and shooed you all out, claiming that Lupin needed some rest. So you four began trekking back to the Gryffindor dormitories, silent for a little while.

“You know,” You spoke up after a little while, “I think there might be a way that we can help him.”

Everyone's heads snapped over to you so fast that you were surprised that they didn’t get whiplash.

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked quickly.

“Well,” You began to explain, “One of the only times I ever paid attention in class was when we had a lesson about werewolves in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and we learned that werewolves won’t hurt other animals.”

James furrowed his eyebrows, “What’re you saying?”

“Animagus.” You stated, “That’s what Professor McGonagall is, she turns herself into a cat. If we can do that, then we can stay with Remus during full moons and we can help him.”

One by one, each one of your three friends' faces lit up.

“That’s bloody brilliant,” Sirius gushed, “And we can turn into our favorite animals. I want to be a dog.”

“Deer!” James cheered.

“I’ve always liked rats and mice.” Peter mused.

“And foxes are nice.” You said dreamily.

“This might just work afterall.” James said with a wide smile.

I don't care, I don't care, if they call me crazy

You sniffled, trying to muffle your cries with a shaky hand resting over your mouth- to almost no avail.

Thankfully though, you were around a corner in a corridor that nobody ever wandered into because it was just a dead end with no doors, so hopefully nobody would come by and see you in your pathetic state.

You tried not to let their words get to you- you really did- but the merciless students just made it so hard to do so.

Freak. Disappointment. Good for nothing. Trouble-

Their voices just kept bouncing back and forth inside your head, ringing on and on like an endless bell. Never once giving you a moment of peace.

Kids from all different houses had been picking on you for a while now. And at first, you just let it bounce off of you, you remained uncaring- never even finding the need to tell your friends about it. But it didn’t take long for their words to begin to wear you down, break through your barriers and begin getting to you.

“Y/n?”

Your head snapped up and your eyes got went at the sight of your four closest friends approaching you with just as much worry as there was hesitation within them.

Quickly, you swiped at your face with the back of your sleeve, trying too late to rid of the tear stained evidence.

“G-guys,” You stuttered out, staggering to your feet, “What are you doing?”

“What happened?” James ignored your question as he walked closer with furrowed eyebrows.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” You quickly cleared your throat.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” Peter piped up, concern shining in his eyes.

You released a shaky sigh, falling backwards against the wall and dropping your head, unable to keep up your already flimsy charade any longer.

“Kids are making fun of me,” You mumbled, “It’s stupid, and that’s all. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Looks of rage immediately took over all four of their faces.

“Who?” Sirius seethed, already curling his hands into fists at his sides, “Just point me in their direction-“

“Us in their direction,” James corrected, jaw clenched in a way that left for an unsettling sight.

“Oh, n/n,” Remus sighed, anger washing away momentarily as he quickly moved forward to bring you into a hug, “I’m so sorry.”

He rubbed your back comfortingly and you greatfully relaxed into his hold.

“Don’t listen to any terrible thing they say to you,” He murmured into your ear, “I can guarantee you that every single one of them is a lie.”

You sighed, “Thanks, Rem.” You sniffled.

The four of them exchanged looks over your shoulder. Those kids would get what was coming to them- eventually. But for now, you needed them.

We can live in a world that we design

“We need new names,” James announced suddenly, leaning his back further against the tree behind him.

Peter looked up with a small frown pulling at his lips, “But I like my name.” He mumbled.

The black haired boy shook his head, messy locks of hair bouncing back and forth at the action, “No, I mean like nicknames. Everyone is already starting to call us ‘The Marauders’ so why not fit into it even more?”

You grinned, throwing your head to the side to look at him, “I like your thinking, J.”

“Well, I was thinking maybe they could have something to do with our animagus’s.” James had a wild grin on, “You know, so it would be like our own little inside joke.”

Remus paled, “Nope, no way, nope. That is far too risky.”

Sirius threw his head back and groan, “Oh, come now, Remus! It would be so much fun!”

“I agree,” You spoke thoughtfully, “It’s not like anyone even has a small indication about what we are, so what’s the harm?”

The tall boy still hesitated, so you all threw your best pleading faces his way- James and Sirius even going as far to put their hands together and shake them in a begging way.

“Please, Rem, please!” The two chorused.

“Oh, all right,” He finally gave in, sighing and running a hand down his face, “But don’t come crying to me if you get caught because of this.” He warned.

After much discussion and debate, the night ended with each of you being able to settle on a nickname that was subtle enough, but also downright hilarious to those who knew your secret- the five of you.

James was Prongs, Sirius was Padfoot, Remus was Moony, Peter was Wormtail, and you were Vix.

'Cause every night, I lie in bed, the brightest colors fill my head

“Pst… Y/n… hey, Y/n, wake up!” A voice whispered directly in your ear like an annoying fly that couldn’t be swatted away.

“Shut up,” You mumbled sleepily, wrapping your blanket tighter around yourself and burying your face further into your pillow.

“I told you we shouldn’t wake her,” Peter’s voice had a somewhat frightened tinge to it, “She’s gonna be angry if we do.”

A scoff came from James, “What are you, mate, five?” He shook your shoulder gently but firmly, “Come on, Vix, wake up-“

You quickly backhanded him in the face, causing a yelp to escape from his lips and his grip to loosen on you as he fell back with a cry, clutching his nose.

Remus snickered, “He tried to warn you, Prongs.”

Your eyes finally forced themselves open, and you glared at your four friends that stood above you, bickering back and forth with one another.

“What do you bloody idiots want?” You hissed.

Sirius held his hands up in mock surrender, “Hey, you’re the one that fell asleep in our room.”

“We wanted to sneak down to the kitchens and get some cookies!” Peter was bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly, eyes wide and glistening with glee.

“You couldn’t have done it yourself?” You grumbled, slowly sitting up and stretching your stiff bones.

James pouted, finally relinquishing his hold on his nose to cross his arms over his chest, “It wouldn’t be the same without you.” He paused in mock thought, “Although, I don’t entirely see how deserving you are of joining us on our expedition after you attacked me in my own dorm.”

“You had it coming, mate.” Remus clapped him on the back, clearly fighting back an amused smile.

A large eye roll made its way out of you as you threw your legs over the side of the bed, “Enough of the dramatics, Prongsie, it’s time to go steal some cookies.”

Peter let out a cheer of happiness, only to be quickly shushed by the four of you in fear of waking any nearby dorms.

A million dreams are keeping me awake

“It’s beautiful,” Your mouth was gaped open slightly in awe as your neck was craned back to stare at the starry sky.

Sirius hummed in agreement, lowering himself so he was laying on his back with his arms folded under his head.

“I bet you can name all the constellations up there,” You teased.

He made a show of mockingly shrugging his shoulders, “No, not all… just most.”

You laughed lightly, falling backwards so you were next to him on the floor of the astronomy tower.

Neither of you had been able to sleep so you had snuck out of the dorms to climb up here and silently enjoy the view.

“I can't believe we’re already fourth years,” You said offhandedly, “It feels like only yesterday we were being sorted.”

“I know,” The boy sighed, “The years are flying by.”

Both of your heads turned to look at each other for a few moments, only a few blinks exchanged together, before you burst out in laughter, holding your stomachs and you rolled around on the ground.

“We sound so old,” You snickered after a little while once you had sobered up a bit.

“Perhaps we finally are,” Sirius grinned, “Give it another year and we’ll be looking like Dumbledore.”

That was followed by another fit of giggles that evidently led the Ravenclaw head girl on patrol to finding you and docking points off of Gryffindor house.

I think of what the world could be, a vision of the one I see

“If you could be anything,” James spoke suddenly, breaking the silence that had encompassed all of you, “What would you be?”

You were all spread around the boys dorm rooms, each minding your own tasks when he asked the question.

Remus had been trying to do some homework, Peter had been nibbling on a snack, Sirius had been dozing off and on, James was throwing a snitch up and down, and you were trying to read a book that Moony had recommended.

“You’re too random for your own good, Prongs,” Remus muttered.

“A unicorn,” Sirius answered immediately, ignoring the other boy, not taking off the arm he had draped over his eyes as he lay stretched out on his back atop of his bed.

“Then why isn’t that your animagus?” You asked curiously.

The boy's face dropped, “I hadn’t thought of it at the time.”

“Perhaps you would have been a lot cooler if you did,” James teased, tapping his chin in mock thoughtfulness.

“Oi!” Sirius bolted upright on his bed and glared at the boy, “Take that back!”

The bespectacled boy grinned, “Never.”

“Oh, Merlin, here we go,” Remus closed his eyes with a groan.

You excitedly scrambled over to where Peter and Remus sat, “I’ve got five gallons on Sirius.” You whisper-yelled to the two as said boy lunged at James, tackling him to the ground.

Peter giggled, taking another bite of his treat, “It’s hard to say.”

Both of you turned expectantly towards Remus, who only blinked at you both for a moment.

“My moneys on James,” He finally gave in after a moment, turning his head towards the fight.

“Hey!” Sirius whined from where he held James in a headlock nearby, “I heard that!”

Lupin rolled his eyes in amusement as you and Peter burst into a fit of laughter.

“Distraction!” James let out a war cry as he shouted it, elbowing his friend in the stomach and gaining the upper hand in the fight.

A million dreams is all it's gonna take

“Minnie!” You, Sirius, and James squealed simultaneously.

The professor had a frown pulling at the edges of her lips, “Potter. Black. L/n.”

“Oh, Minnie!” You cried dramatically, throwing yourself across a chair near the front rows of desks in her classroom, “How I’ve missed you!”

“I has been two hours since we’ve last seen each other, Miss. L/n.” The woman deadpanned, then gave a pointed look, “Remember? When I gave you this detention?”

You tapped your chin in mock thought, “It rings a bell.”

She tutted and rolled her eyes disapprovingly, “Just take a seat.”

The three of you immediately plopped down in the row right in front of her desk.

“It’s not fair,” Sirius muttered into your ear, “Remus was the one to come up with the prank and the bloke doesn’t even have to be there.”

“That’s because he wasn’t stupid enough to get caught.” You grumbled with a huff of breath.

“This is the third time this week you all have gotten a detention,” Minerva scolded, “I expect better from you.”

You and Sirius burst out into laughter and James raised a single eyebrow whilst snickering, “Better? Minnie, you ought to know us better than that by now.”

She rolled her eyes, “Yes, I suppose I must.” She muttered to herself.

Oh, a million dreams for the world we're gonna make

“Let’s go James! Let’s go Sirius!” You cupped your hands around your mouth in hopes that your cheers would somehow magically make its way through the other screams and cheers of your peers and into your friends ears.

Peter clapped loudly from beside you and Remus smiled, wrapping his scarf tighter around himself as the wind harshly whipped against the sea of students.

“Kick their arses, you two!” You screamed again, ignoring the glares from nearby Ravenclaws at your words.

The match against Ravenclaw would decide who won the house cup for the year, and you along with the rest of Gryffindor were more than ready to accept the trophy.

It had been going on for about three hours now and Marlene as well as the Ravenclaw seeker had yet to catch the snitch and end the game.

The chasers for both houses were pretty tied up, James, of course, having the most points scored for the red and gold house.

On the other hand, Sirius was having the time of his life, whacking the bludger at any blur of blue that flew around him.

All of a sudden, Marlene looked like she was practically doing a free fall on top of her broom, arm outstretched and going so fast that the Ravenclaw seeker never even stood a chance of catching her. But it would be too late to try anyway, because her fingers wrapped around the golden snitch and ended the match before anyone could so much as blink.

Like a roaring chorus, all of your house mates around you broke into screams that no doubt were making everyone’s throats scratchy and raw, but that didn’t matter. You had won the house cup.

Your grin was so wide that it even rivaled Sirius and James’s, who had flown down into the stands to celebrate with everyone.

Every person was jumping up and down in pure excitement, shaking the stands in a way that no doubt could be concerning and lead it to fall over. But nobody could find it in themselves to care.

There's a house we can build, every room inside is filled with things from far away

“This place is bloody magnificent.” Sirius breathed out in awe, leaning back against a hammock that hung between two pillars.

“I can’t believe it took us so long to learn about it.” You added.

“This could be like our new hang out!” Peter chatted excitedly.

“Not to mention the fact that it doesn’t even show up on the map,” Remus said, “It’s incredible.”

“The Room of Requirement,” You mused, “I like the sound of it.”

“Do you think a lot of people know about it?” James asked excitedly, jumping up and down a little bit on a nearby couch.

Peter gasped, “Maybe we’re the first ones to discover it!” He practically squealed.

You laughed, leaning back in your own hammock across from Sirius’s, “I think I could get used to this.”

Special things I compile, each one there to make you smile on a rainy day

“Hey, guys,” You smiled weakly as you glanced up at them, “How’s it going?”

James and Sirius grinned widely at you, coming to a stop in front of the couch you were sitting at and dumping arms full of cookie bags onto the cushions to your sides.

“What the-“ Your eyes widened as you stared at the treats, “What are you guys doing?”

James shrugged, plopping down beside you and offering you a bag while taking one for himself, “You weren’t having that great of a day, so we decided to try and make you feel better.”

“And what better way to do that then bring up some junk food for us all to share.” Sirius added.

Your smile turned genuine this time, “You… you guys didn’t have to do that.”

“We wanted to,” James shrugged as if it was nothing.

“And besides,” The other boy wore a playful grin, “It’s an excuse to eat cookies.”

They can say, they can say it all sounds crazy

“You’re insane, James Potter.” You crossed your arms over your chest, “I hope you know that.”

He threw you a grin, “Insane? Or just a hopeless romantic?” He asked.

“Insane.” You confirmed, letting loose a sigh when you realized he had already diverted his attention to where Lily Evans sat across the library, reading out of a large book.

“Look at her,” He sighed dreamily, “She’s perfect.”

You bit back an amused smirk, “Come on, Prongs, just go talk to her. Give her the flowers.”

James’s face immediately dropped, “Wait-uh-no… maybe- maybe this was a bad idea after all.”

“Hey,” You gently scolded, “It was my idea, remember? I thought of it to try and help you to finally get you to shut up about it?”

The black haired boy gulped and looked down at the bouquet of beautiful wild flowers he had picked specially for her- with your guidance, of course.

“Deep breaths, Prongsie.” You reminded him, placing a calming hand on his shoulder and offering him a reassuring smile, “You got this.”

He attempted his best grin, “I got this.” He repeated somewhat shakily.

You gave him a gentle shove forward and he made his way over to Lily, gently tapping her on the shoulder and flusteredly presenting the bouquet to her, all while you watched from afar with a proud smile resting upon your face.

They can say, they can say we've lost our minds

“To the Marauders,” You raised a glass.

“Here, here!” The four boys echoed back, clinking all your glasses together before taking sips out of their own.

You smiled, sitting down at the table of Three Broomsticks with them, admiring the way they all chatted and laughed amongst one another.

You couldn’t be more happy that there weren’t any empty carts that first day of Hogwarts on the Express.

My Little Bit of Magic 🧙- @your-local-questioning-agender @its-hell l @i-writes-things @etanordoesbullsh1t @wolfmoonmusic @kiyomi-uchiha777

#book places 1 year event #platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #marauders imagine #marauders x reader platonic #marauders x reader #james potter x reader #james potter x reader platonic #sirius black x reader #sirius black x reader platonic #peter pettigrew x reader #peter pettigrew x reader platonic #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader platonic #x teen reader #song fic #song inspired fic #song imagine

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real-fire-emblem-takes · 4 months

Note

Lucina is just Medieval Future Trunks but slightly less interesting. There, I said it.

#future trunks #fe #fire emblem #character hate

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mysteriesmuse · 10 months

Text

Kirishima and the Washing Machines

You lived in a pretty large apartment complex about 150 residents in all. And yet, somehow, you always found yourself using the washer and dryer after this one individual. Every. Time.

And you now what, they never remember to clean out the lint tray after they’re done.

You sigh through your nose, inching out the door of the lint tray and seeing a very full cage. Reaching in and deftly scooping it all up in one hand and dropping it into the trash can without second thought.

Whoever this person was they had the most ridiculously long and lacking hair care routine ever. Seriously, 5-6 inch long firetruck red hairs that were coarse and fried to hell littered your clothes now. Probably because said person never emptied the lint tray after their laundry so now their hair littered your own wardrobe. And this would naturally urge anyone to choose a different washer and dryer out of the apartment laundromat. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t tried, it just seemed that whoever this person was seemed to read you mind — move laundry machines with you, so you’d given up.

Subjected to a life of dyed red hair in all your clothing. A lifetime supply of lint rollers in hand at all times.

And in Kirishima’s defense he was a busy prohero — but you’d never seen him in the apartment complex, much less seen him patrolling the neighborhood in order to make the connection.

Although he’d seen you — only a handful of times though — over the past few months of living here. He thought you were pretty — the kind where you have to mentally acknowledge a strangers beauty just because they are so attractive.

Except for today.

And You were having a good day.

You’d hit massive stroke of luck to this week to find that this red-haired person and your secret domestic enemy hadn’t been to the laundromat before you. You couldn’t be more pleased as you sat down on one of the lobbies padded chairs. Content with sitting and reading your book as you waited for the little chiming song of the washer and dryer to alert you that this batch of clothes was free of a strangers weird hairstyle.

And you were ready, sliding back in the chair, tittering your hips, slipping your finger between the fresh crisp pages and into the sweet spot where your little impromptu receipt bookmark lay nestled next to the spine — a perfect morning.

you’d gotten through that euphoric breath part of the process before the awkward spinning doors to the complex blew open and you’d dropped the book into your lap — staggering in was a beefcake of a man.

It was the first thing you noticed, and how could you not? The stranger was shirtless and only clad in a pair of worn joggers that bear the emblem of the most famous hero producing highschool — hung snuggly around his hips, but just low enough that you could see the elastic of his boxers peaking out. And up from there was the defined muscles of his abdomen, not full on bread rolls, but a smoother definition and one that fit him nicely. The slight healthy layer of fat smoothing over the man’s defined and sturdy trunk — which lead to a completely hairless chest — a conscious decision. And then his arms were huge like the rest of him, but had a very strange reverse farmers tan to them. Another conscious decision?

You didn’t even make it to his face before he was already in the room — and he took up space.

somehow you found the conscious effort to close your mouth when he turned in your direction flaming locks of hair reaching his broad shoulders.

Beefcake had noticed you as soon as he had walked in. The gorgeous h/c woman. And he could see the whites of your eyes and the pink of your tongue from the door.

He flashed you an award winning smile full of sharp canines before awkwardly tugging on a few small strands near his face. The book in your lap now open to a random page, a receipt lay fluttered close to your feet.

Kirishima chuckled, deep and low, bending down on one knee to hand you the receipt that’d been flung out on the ground from your shocked stare — yeah, that was a perfectly normal reaction he got often as a pro.

“Sorry to startle you, beautiful. Here’s your bookmark,” he said, holding it out to you. You blinked back surprised before taking it back from his outstretched hand rather stiffly. He could see a crinkle between your brows as you seemingly took in every single detail about his face — tongue prodding the corners of your mouth as you did so.

You were not, in fact, openly checking him out as much as Kirishima was secretly kind of hoping — a reaction he would naturally have gotten fairly often since you presumed he was a hero of sorts with his build and those flashy alum joggers.

No — you were busy studying his hair: eyebrows, eyelashes, stubble, the whole lot. All of it thick and black — unlike the hair on top of his head, but similarly matching with the sometimes atrocious roots on those long hairs from the laundry machine.

“Aha—“ you thrust out the hand with the reciept and waved it in front of Kirishimas face. “It’s you! My laundromat enemy — you’re the guy that always forgets to empty the lint drawer!”

Kirishima blinked back at you crossed eyed. A vague recognition of what you were taking about slipping past his eyes like a montage. He couldn’t remember a single time where he emptied that lint drawer, now that you mentioned it. He swallowed thickly

“I — I, how? How do you know it’s me?” He garbled.

You shoot him a pointed look that reminded him of his best friend, “You really think there’s that many other people around here with hair like yours?” You hummed, gesturing to his still damp locks. You answered for him, “yeah, me neither.”

Kirishima was shocked at your certainty, but he was also pretty certain that you were absolutely right. He gulped nervously, adams apple bobbing in that thick neck of his.

of course he had luck like this, upsetting the beautiful woman in the apartment complex before he’d even meet her. You called him an enemy. A domestic enemy — he was supposed to be a hero!

He started, “Look . . .”

“Y/N” you supplied.

“Look Y/N,” he said, noticing the way you perked up more at his use of your name. “I’m really sorry to have bothered you by forgetting to clean out the lint in the dryer. There’s no excuse for me forgetting, or actively ignoring, that in a communal space. That’s really un-neighborly of me and I promise to actually take the time to do it from now on.” He finished, hand strapped across his heart like a knight of old making a pledge to you.

he watched as you slowly uncrossed your arms and tapped at the cover of your book. Your eyes of some beautiful color — that he would commit to memory if you looked up at him, stared down in your lap.

He put placed his hands on the side of the armrests, pleading with the best puppy dog eyes he could give, “anything I can do to make it up to you?” Practically begging.

you looked up, ahh so they were e/c then.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, nose wrinkling.

He seemed genuine, and charming and polite, but he was large and intimidating — and in your personal space, “you do owe me quite a handful of change in lint roller money.”

Kirishima grinned, that he could do.

“How about I take you out — this time, next week. There’s a really cool bookshop cafe on my patrol route. I’ll come by and pick you up.” He noticed your hesitation, a worrying shimmy closer to the back of the seat and away from him. He removed his hands from the armrests and reached for the wallet in his pocket, “— we could just walk then, if that’s not comfortable for you. Or you could meet me there. Here see, Kirishima Eijirou prohero alias Red Riot.”

That caused you to relax and lean forward, as you examined his hero license.

He really was a hero. You were already pretty sure with those UA joggers, but it felt good to know you were right. One that wore an oddly terrifying dog-muzzle? You glanced back up at his strong jaw littered with a stiff 5 o’clock shadow. And surely enough there were faint lines of pale skin surrounding his mouth and just under his eyes that confirmed the weird existence of this accessory. Again, what is with the fashion choices here??

You raised a brow, “Ever think this is a little unusual for a hero?” You asked pointing at his ID.

Red Riot glowed like his namesake. “I thought it was cool back in highschool — now it’s part of my image.” He chuckled, a hand touching at the place where it would be.

you wondered what that would feel like having that cage against your skin all the time — surely uncomfortable.

Kirishima wondered if you’d consider yanking him by those bars to bring him into a kiss. Metal clanking on metal as the pretty ring on your finger gripped around the edges of its frame. If you’d be a woman he could come home to after a long mission and be fall into lovingly seering embrace like some of his pals. . .

Clearly two very different trains of thought going on here, but Eijirou was always a hopeless romantic at heart and nothing but a gentlemen.

He heart leapt into his throat when you placed a cool hand against his forearm with a little conformational pat, “I’ve got work next week, but I’ll go ahead and meet you there.”

He grinned standing up to his full height and pocketing his wallet, face morphing as a realization dawned on him. He quickly scrambled for his phone, “I — wait you don’t have my number and I haven’t even told you where it is. And it’s pretty far, so I don’t think you’d know it — because it’s all the way in Fatgums district and —“

and now you were laughing at him. Kirishima tucked a thick strand of hair behind his ear as he looked down at you — washing machine songs lighting up the atmosphere.

“Actually I do have your number. We — apparently — live on the same floor, Kirishima.” You snorted holding out your phone with the familiar floor group text that he was apart of. A ridiculous dorky contact photo of himself as Crimson Riot as the contact photo he send in the chat.

Plus Ultra! Forget red, crimson — he was scarlet right about now.

“Ah right . . .”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you waved, “you’re much cuter in person. Ya know, for a laundromat menace.”

Kirishima scratched awkwardly at his chest which was hardening there randomly — oh wait nope, it’s because he heart was thumping a mile a minute and he was on a mad adrenaline rush right now in the middle of the apartment complex lobby bc was talking to the beautiful stranger of his complex.

You rose from your chair and stood in front of him, book clutched to your chest.

the only thought running through his head was don’t move. And you watched as this handsome young pro hero stood stock still — every muscular plain of his body becoming rock hard and just towering over you.

the chimes started up again.

“Uh excuse me, you’re kinda blocking the entire door?” You giggled.

In a flash this Kirishima was hardening even more and now you could clearly see a set of abs in the early morning dim lobby light as he stepped further into the elevator so he wouldn’t be crushed — although with that quirk you think the elevator might take most of the damage.

Now he was too cute.

And as he backpedaled into the elevator you could hear him audibly sigh with relief as the sound of your book pages started flicking.

“Kirishima—“

he looked down, the apples of your cheeks light and bouncy — such a pretty little smile on your face, “you should really invest in some conditioner.”

And the last you saw was a sliver of a grin and framing tan lines from that muzzle/cage looking mask of his. He beamed staring at the space you were in before the doors closed, a blissful whisper as he realized he was replying to an empty elevator, “yeah I do.”

#mysteriesmusing #eijiro kirishima #kirishima fluff #kirishima x reader #mha fanfiction

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nm-mattuz · 3 months

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I ignore the ending cards in Fire Emblem to make up my own.

So Lucina, I imagine when going back to her own timeline, it is unchanged. So in short multiverse theory. But what she did in the past still help her future's problem as Grima was defeated in the past. Kinda like how Trunks got strong enough to beat 17 & 18 while in the past, essentially solving in the past, despite it not affecting his timeline.

#fire emblem #fe #fire embem awakening #fea #fe awakening #fe lucina #lucina fe #dragon ball was brought up #but only trunks

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yrluvjane · 1 year

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| 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 |

Chapter One: The Night it Bled

Warning: Angst, self-hate.

Summary: 8 years after the haunting incident of Lord and Lady Potter on 31st of October 1981, Harry and Jean finally visit their parents, However, Harry's feelings towards the trip are concerning .

Harry and Jean were met with the familiar smell of soaps and cleaners and the triggering scents of — well hospitals; which, ironically, made them feel sick as they walked into St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

They were in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests.

The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises... Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards. Jean noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed.

They followed through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with more portraits of famous Healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds.

More witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked in and out of the doors they passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as they passed one door, and every now and then they heard distant wailing.

The fourth floor housed the Janus Thickey Ward, which was for the treatment of spell damage. It addressed unliftable jinxes, hexes, curses, incorrectly-applied charms,

"This is our long-term residents' ward. For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement." The nurse introduces. "We usually keep the doors to the door locked to stop patients from wandering about."

"We do, however, allow patients to surround themselves with their personal possessions to make them feel more at home and, in many cases, to help remember who they were." She says, and Harry doubts that anyone other than Remus is listening to her.

His uncle Sirius is busy trying to cheer his sister up with jokes that he doubted was appropriate at a hospital and evidence of that is when a passing nurse gaped at Sirius and immediately rushed to tell another nurse.

Though Harry did appreciate Sirius trying to put a smile on Jean's face, and he was sure she too was grateful. "Mr. Potter, Miss Potter..." The healer calls and faces the siblings with an unsure look, wandering her eyes to the two adults with them before crouching to their level.

Jean crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at the Healer.

"This is the first time visiting your parents, no?" The latter asked. Both the ten year old and eight year old nodded. "Your parents were hit with a rather strong charm... when they came here, they were very hurt, and they were missing -"

"We know what happened to them." Jean says with a harsh edge to her tone. "Jean! Don't be rude." Harry stated, looking at his younger sister in disbelief. "Thank you, Mr. Potter, but it's fine. We expect this from everyone. I just want to warn you that they may not recognise you and to ask you not to mention anything related to the events of that night or your relationship with them." The healer asked, and Harry stared confusingly at his uncle Remus, then faced the healer.

"Why not?" Harry asked, sharing a worried look with his sister. Jean finally let her arms down. "Lord and Lady Potter seem to experience an unexplainable surge of pain whenever one brings up that fateful night, and sometimes these surges lead to excruciating mental pain or seizures."

"Why?" It's Jean that asks, her voice is soft and barely audiable with sadness, and Harry can see her chest rise and fall rapidly as she tries to prevent herself from crying. Sirius puts a hand on her shoulder and leans down to whisper something in her ear. Whatever it was must have worked cause the next thing she did was playfully push Sirius and send him a narrowed look.

Harry doesn't appreciate the pity he sees the mediwitch gives them, but he understands where it's coming from. After a rather long and partially unnecessary pep-talk from Remus and Sirius, Harry pulls his sister aside and takes her in a hug. The younger girl stares at him sadly before poking his face, "You're too emotional, y'know that right."

"Pads says I get it from dad. And you're too quiet. It's okay to hurt every once in a while." Jean only raises her brows, Harry grins they had only been arguing the other week on how he could lift one brow at time and she couldn't.

"Remus says I'm like mum, I'm taking that as a compliment." She says as she pushes his glasses back up his nose and smiles. Harry looks over her shoulder where the mediwitch is talking to their uncles in hushed tones and wary glances. Remus looks up and catches Harry eyes, he sends the raven-haired boy an encouraging smile.

"If you don't want to go in, we can come back some other time." Harry states, scratching mercilessly at his palm, his sweating in his clothes even if though the room they're in is spelled with cooling charms. "I can handle it, I'm not a baby, Harry!" She hisses at him. "I'm not! I– I'm not–" Harry can feel tear stinging in his eyes as he looks at the small creak between the ward's doors.

Behind those are his parents, his parents. Harry doesn't know what’s worse, this or not having parents at all. At some point in his life he forgot he even had those. It doesn't feel like he has parents. Remus and Sirius are his uncle's but Lord and Lady Potter were like fictional characters to him, they were heroes in the eyes in the wizarding world and for some reason everyone need to make it sound as though they were dead. And he has to wait, wait for that wave of emotion to hit when he realises they may not be buried in a coffin but they don't exist anymore, they don't even exist to each other.

He has to go in, he decides, next year he leaves for Hogwarts and he can't have—He can't have not met his parents! And he knows Jean wants to see them, she's stuck on it too. He doesn't blame her but Harry doesn't want go, he—

It's my fault Harry wants to say. The Dark Lord wanted him. Why did his parents and Jean need to suffer. He'd rather die than let his sister go through this. "I'm scared, Jean." He blurts quietly, and it's clear on his face and in his voice. Harry feels as though his under veritaserum. It comes out of him like a secret, and he feels a bit relieved when he says it. Jean's demenor immediately changes.

Despite Harry being the older one, his sister has always been the mature one. There it is, pity and sadness in her eyes, and Harry wants to hit himself against the wall. He can't handle it, not from her.

"Harry, why didn't you say anything?" She asks, pulling him closer and further to the side. She looks at him as though he's a wounded bird as though she might break him if she looks hard enough. "Because I'm not supposed to be scared!" But he is, he's scared they'll blame him. He knows it he's fault he sees every time Remus or Sirius or Jean look at a picture at mum or dad. But to hear it from them, the thought enough makes him feel sick.

He realises he's been for too quiet and Jean turns around towards their uncle's, no doubt about to ask them to leave. Harry manages to get there before her and declares they're ready.

He ignores the look of shock and disbelief from his sister and pulls his hand back when she tries to reach for him. The mediwitch puts an unnecessary hand on their back and whispers in their ear where they are. But Harry doesn't need her, he's already spotted his mum and dad the moment his stepped in.

They're far enough to not notice them but close enough for Harry to make out their faces. His dad is leaning back on a chair, his feet over the table, playing with a Snitch. His mum on the other hand is writing by the looks of it. While his father gives of an air of friendliness and companionship; his mother gives on of solitude, he head is hunched in her book and when Harry concentrates he can see her furrow her brows every once in a while.

He wants to see her and apologise and cry and be held and he wants her to hug him and tell him it's going to be alright. "I'll see dad." He mutters shamefully. It's truly a shameful Jean deserves to choose who to see first after all she was the one who was a baby and missed the chance to make memories with them then but Harry won't dare look at his mum.

He can't act as though he didn't sit there like an idiot that night and watched his mum and dad march to death just to save his useless existence. Jean is pulled by Remus for a hug, his whispering something while kissing her head, and Harry sees Jean nod. "How do you feel? Okay? Sad? Nauseous? We can get you something to eat. There should be a–"

"I'm fine, Pads." Harry whispers tiredly. He's so tired. He can't even bother to raise his glasses back up. He doesn't need to because Sirius does it for him. Harry smiles. It's mostly forced, but Harry can feel a genuiness somewhere. Contrary to popular belief, Sirius is the mum between him and Remus. Sirius kisses him on the head and ruffles his hair before playfully pushing towards his dad.

By the corner of his eyes, he can see Jean narrow her eyes at him with pursed lips and concerned brows. Now that he is getting closer to his dad, enough to make out the lightning shaped scar on his wrist, Harry gasps in a sharp breath before pushing himself forward.

"Hey!" Harry says awkwardly and is now aware of the itchiness of his hair. His dad, James Potter, turns toward him with a grin and suspicious eyes. He pushes his feet of the table and pockets the snitch. "Can I help you kid?" His dad asks.

Harry notes the dark curls they share, the glasses, the facial structure and it's almost like seeing an older version of himself. Everyone always tells him he has his father's look and grandmother eyes. It's Jean who is a complete copy of mum. Harry chokes on air and faces his dad with a worried expression.

"I'm...ahm...I'm Harry, Uncle Sirius' Godson?"

His dad's confused face almost instantly perks up, "Really? He talks a lot about you, y'know. His proud of you!"

"Oh uhm yeah, I guess...He's visiting someone and said I could come and hang out with you." Harry awkwardly lies. He begins to scratch the pad of his thumb in hopes to stop the bubbling sadness in his throat.

"You okay? You seem quite nervous? I promise I don't bite." His dad jokes and Harry misses the flick of an odd expression that sparks in his face. "Harry," James notes with a confused nod and said boy whips his head up in shock. "Yeah?" He asks unsurely.

"That's a really nice name." James says biting his lip and smiling, showing off his dimples. "So, Sirius tells me you're really good at Quidditch, a seeker right?"

"Yeah, my dad used to play." Harry replies with a small smile. Uncomfortable tears begin to burn his eyes and Harry needs to silently scratch at his thighs to prevent them from falling. "Is that why you play? Cause your dad used to?"

"I guess doing the things he used to do makes me feel as though he's doing it with me? It's crazy and weird. Whatever but I just...uhm...I just really make him proud." Harry admits, staring right back at his dad. The older man stares back it him with a soft smile and leans over to ruffle his hair. "You're a good kid, Harry. You're dad should be proud...I know I would."

"Really?" Harry asks and the tears that he's been trying to bury finally surface as James' scared face begins to blur. "No no no, don't cry. Please, don't cry." James' voice comes as Harry hangs his head down, tears falling freely. He feels his dad's hand over his shoulder and on his back; trying to calm him down.

"It's okay buddy. If it makes you feel any better my parents dead too." However, James realized that does not appropriate to say cause Harry let out a louder sob. "I'm sorry! I'm really sorry. I didn't mean too! I didn't know." Harry defends to his dad. He knows he won't understand what his saying or why he's saying it but Harry doesn't care. He wants to apologize, he wants his parents forgiveness, he needs it. He needs this pain, this guilt, to go away.

Harry's vision blurs as James takes of his glasses and wipes his tears with the sleeve of the red sweater his wearing. "Why don't talk about something else?...Remus says you have a younger sister! Why don't we talk about her?" James muses, hoping it will stop the little boy from crying.

Harry hiccups and almost laughs as his dad trips to get him water. "Here!"

Chapter Three: The Calm Before the Storm

Tagging: @sssstarstruck @cloudroomblog

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