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static-fanatic-1 · 3 years

Text

Chrollo + Phantom Troupe Teaser

Word Count: 5.2k

(Teaser my ass, holy shit this is going to be a long one)

Name: (y/n) Kurta

Nen Type: Conjurer

Nen Ability: Terracotta gauntlets with a lion head on top of the hand. The lion head can detach from the clawed gauntlets and act as physics-defying grappling hooks.

Example of Ability: You can use the grappling hooks to grab and throw whatever is caught, this can include people or other large objects. It will feel fairly weightless.

| Part 2 |

~~~

You remember the day perfectly, it was humid and moist, yet just cool enough to stop you from sweating. You had on your usual Kurta garb, purple and yellow with symbols and designs in honor of your heritage. You stayed home that day, being two months pregnant with your future child made your father worry too much.

You were barely showing at this point, but he still kept you home despite your line of work. You were a protector of sorts, a guard to your clan, keeping everyone protected as well as leaving to explore the world and bring back new things. You enjoyed your job, but your sweet old man didn't want you to over exert yourself.

"When you leave again you'll have to bring your secret lover." Your father would constantly start. "I bet he's a gentleman considering what your mother taught you." A fatherly smile gleaming over his wrinkling features. "If he runs off I'll hunt him down and strap him to our dinner table." He would joke.

You would lightly scold your father, knowing he would surely follow his words. "Stop. Keep acting like that and you'll chase him away."

You sighed at the fond memories, glancing out the window of the kitchen to watch the bright sun set below the horizon line. Deep purples and rich oranges decorated the clouds in a comforting glow. Another color, rich and warm, too warm, littered the skies. Coal black smoke rose above the tree tops and covered the beautiful sky in a suffocating cloak.

A lump got caught in your throat at the sight, you knew the colors and smoke anywhere, the burning trash of Meteor City making it a familiar sight. The smell too, burning your nostrils and making you cringe further confirmed what was happening.

Fire. Burning, raging fire was engulfing the village and eating it whole. Screams and cries for help filled the air as buildings crumpled into the ground. That was your call to action, you jumped out of your window and summoned up your nen, claws outstretched and prepared to slice any unknown mother fucker you could find.

You found one, a dark silhouette in the night with a slim build and intense pink aura coming from their hands. It felt familiar, the aura, but you didn't pay it any mind before shooting out the lion head on your gauntlets.

With chattering teeth they by harshly into the figure's forearms, dragging them across the floor and above your head into a burning building behind you. You cried and quickly jumped on the figure, slicing at their chest. Large, long gashes oozed out buckets of blood, and you quickly silenced the figure's cries with a even deeper gash to the throat... their head now hanging by a thin thread of flesh.

The blood that coated your nen gauntlets were nothing compared to the crimson that flooded your eyes. You would slaughter anyone that was not a clan member, you swore on that. Looking around your red tinted gaze fell upon the horrors caused by the raiders.

Bodies, bloodied and broken beyond recognition littered the ground. You wobbled over to one of them, barely making out who it was, an elderly woman you could almost call a grandmother. Her wrinkled features were slack and littered with blood, but the empty, oozing sockets where her eyes should be haunted your nightmares. You wailed louder than the dying screams, fat tears streaming down your cheeks and landing in the empty holes.

"Papa!" You shrieked, stumbling up off the ground and rushing further into the carnage. Your legs barely kept up as you rushed past the fire ridden village. "PAPA!" You screeched into the crackling night.

You paused, breath caught in your throat making you choke on the smoke. There was a silhouette shrouded by ash and darkness and flames, a distinguishable fur coat lining its figure. You gagged at the smoke, hiding behind a broken building to listen to the mumbling figure.

"Has anyone found her?" A smooth, honey like voice echoed past the dying screams.

Chrollo? Wha-? What's going on?! You stumbled on a piece of debris, tripling and falling onto a warm, bloodied corpse. You gave out a strained whimper, almost a shriek, as you tried to collect yourself and run away.

You could hear him behind you, you could almost feel him behind you. His nen spilled from his pores and surrounded you in a suffocating hold. You quietly gagged, hand over your mouth as you held back the bile rising in your throat. Tears pricked the edges of your eyes, blurring your vision with smoke and tears.

~~~

You bit your bottom lip, whipping your hair over your shoulder and staring at the man across from you. He was large, muscles bulging through the thin black shirt he wore, yet he was no where near strong enough to take you down. Theoretically, the only person out of this year's batch of hunters that could possibly stand against you was yourself and that clown whom got his ass kicked out for attacking one of the wardens. This guy was no where near your level, you couldn't even sense any nen.

"What's wrong little girl?" He spat, crouching down and preparing to bulldoze you. "Shaking in your boots?"

You narrowed your eyes with a scowl, scoffing and looking at the chairman across the plaza. "Hardly."

The large man growled and dashed with his arms out stretched. Typical. You jumped high into the air and twisted around, your leg coming back down on his thick skull. Your foot clashed against the crown of his head and shoved his face into the ground, bringing him to a dead stop. Jumping back to the ground you inspected the damage, the floor was cracked and you could barely see his head past the new hole in the ground. The man wasn't moving, you knocked him out.

There was some clapping from the end of the plaza, shoes clacking against tile as he wondered closer. His steel grey eyes trailed down to your chest as he neared, old perv. "I'm a little disappointed." He mused, looking back up to meet your stern gaze. "I thought he would have a better chance against you. Though, it's always a treat to see a first timer beat the Hunter Exam."

You lightly smiled at the praise, a small memory of your father coming into mind. "I appreciate it."

Netero grinned at your words, but it slightly faltered when he glanced back at the designs of your clothes. "So, what hunter are you aiming to be?" He started as he shuffled through his clothes.

"Bounty Hunter, there are a few people I want to find."

"The Phantom Troupe, hm? I can't blame you, they have done some pretty horrible things."

You glanced over at the old man, your gaze being met with a knowing expression and a Hunter License. "Thanks...." You warily replied, taking hold of your new license. It should serve you well, you hoped.

A few hours later you wondered into the fancy hotel you were staying at. A few strangers glanced at you with a disgusted look, you couldn't blame them as you were still covered in dirt, leaves and a few splotches of blood. A tired sigh escaped your lips once you finally got to your room, taking the card and swiping it you entered with a delicate smile. "Kurapika! (S/n)! Where are you guys?"

A tuft of blond hair wizzes past the corner of the small living room. Dark grey eyes quickly following and staring back at you with a disgruntled expression. "Your son is a handful." Spat Kurapika.

Behind him a small, pale skinned figure peeked behind the corner, a cheeky grin plastered on his chubby face. "Momma!" He screeched, rushing over and running into your waiting arms.

You gave him a kiss on his forehead, using your hand to push away his fluffy raven hair. "Pretty sure you were the handful Kurapika, no way this little angel was was trouble."

Kurapika slightly smiled, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Only when you are around, anyway, how did it go?"

You sighed and sat on the marble flooring. "It was really easy, but I've had the training for it to be easy. You will probably have a hard time, especially if that clown shows up again." You mumbled the last part, moving to the kitchen to grab you a snack, you were starving.

"Then teach me the "magic" you claim to know."

"I wanna see magic! Momma can you teach me too?" You took a big bite out of your snack, giving a glare to both of the kids.

"Sorry squirt, when you get older I'll teach you."

Kurapika furrowed his brows. "You keep telling me that if I pass the hunter exam you'll teach me."

"Change of plans-"

"Change of plans?! What do you mean change of plans? I still don't understand why you won't teach me this "magic" you keep talking about! I would be strong enough to fight the Phantom-"

"Kurapika." You sternly glared in his direction, the look in your eyes forcing everyone to quite down. "You know I don't want you to even get involved with this. Besides the change of plans isn't that bad, I want you to figure out this "magic" thing yourself and return when you are ready. I still want to teach you, but I don't want you to get killed in the process.

"I have a plan to find and hunt down the Troupe, but it will take time. If you aren't ready by the time I am, you will not be permitted to help. Instead you will stay somewhere safe and take care of (s/n) for me."

Kurpaika's dark grey eyes stared into the back of your head and burned holes into your skull. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, yes I am. Even if you learn this "magic" there is no telling how powerful you will become. Even with years and years of rigorous training like myself, I won't stand a chance against more than two of them at a time." You kept your stance, standing tall above the blond you called a little brother. "I don't want to see you get hurt, Kurapika. I can't see you get hurt."

Your son waddled over to your tense form and wrapped his shirt arms around your thighs. "He won't get hurt momma, I'll make sure of it!" A beaming smile did it's best to comfort you.

"I know you will, (s/n)." You turned your attention back to the blond, giving him a stern stare that told him you meant what you said. "I want to protect him too."

Kurapika growled, you knew how important finding and slaughtering the Troupe was to him, so why make it so difficult? Wouldn't it be easier to teach him and make him stronger so the both of you can fight?

You looked away from the blond as he stormed into one of the off rooms, you knew what he was thinking, but that wouldn't change your mind. You blamed yourself for your clan's slaughter and you wouldn't be able to live if he was to die too. You didn't want him to get involved in our own affairs, especially when they were so dangerous.

"Momma," You glanced down at the head of fluffy black hair still clinging to your legs. "Why do you and Uncle Kurapika argue so much? Who is this Phantom Troupe?" His chuffs cheeks puffed out, his brows furrowing in thought.

"(S/n)... it's a long story. One you aren't old enough to hear I'm afraid." You leaned down, picked him up, and rubbed your nose to his own rosy one. "Till then I'll keep you safe."

"From the Troupe?"

You glanced away form his coal black eyes, the painful memories a bit too much to handle at the moment. "From monsters that want to hurt you." You planted a kiss on his forehead, wiping away some of the scars burned into your mind.

~~~

You were going to strangle that boy when you find him. With gritted teeth and blazing eyes, you haven't been this pissed off in years. You stomped over to the glass window of the hotel room your all too kind employer provided.

You gave him simple instructions, go off and figure out the basics of "magic", and then return for more training. It was supposed to be a test for the rebellious teen.

That's what it was supposed to be. Instead, he decided he had enough of you and left to find the Troupe on his own, leaving your precious son to be alone in a secure hotel room while you worked. You might just kill Kurapika next time you see him.

You fanned down the small wrinkles on your slim dress, straightening out the slit that trailed to your thigh. It was black and long enough to trail behind your tall heels. Around your neck was a pearl necklace and a fur scarf hanging on your shoulders. Your hair was curled and allowed to flow freely behind you. You also had some pearl earrings and a pearl bracelet.

Swiping the last of your lipstick on, pursing your lips and giving them a little smack before turning to the small child on the couch. His eyes were glued to a puzzle he decided was more interesting than the television. "(S/n), I'm going to have to go in a minute. You'll be fine right?"

Doe eyes glanced back at you, a puzzle piece tightly held in his hands. "I'll be fine!"

"You remember the rules right?"

"No leaving without you or Kurapika, don't answer the door unless it is you or Kurapika, make sure I call you if something is wrong or when I go to bed,-"

"I get it." You waved a hand in his face, a gentle smile etched onto your painted lips. "My smart little boy remembers everything."

He nodded, leaning into the backside of the couch to wrangle you into a hug. "Come back soon!"

"I will, don't worry. Love you."

"Love you too."

You were off, leaving and meeting with your employer at his hotel before making your way to a dinner with a few high end Mafia men. You quickly met up with the man, he was a son to one of the ten dons and hired you as both a body guard and a rental girlfriend. A little demeaning in your eyes but anything to get close to your targets.

"You look stunning." Mentioned the man, his arm linking with your own. He was a handsome man, that was obvious, a real charmer too. With chocolate brown hair slicked back and bright green eyes you could stare at for an eternity. He was broad shouldered and muscular underneath his crisp dark grey suit, a pale yellow under shirt and a maroon tie adding to his attractiveness. The poor flirt would be dead if you outwardly admitted that though.

"Likewise." Your hand placed itself on top his forearm, letting him guide you to the fancy limousine he had for the two of you.

You decided conversation would be the best thing at the moment, as getting to know a man you are supposed to temporarily date would be best for the illusion. "Where are we going to meet your father?"

"Ah, a nice restaurant just a few blocks uptown from the auction site." He directed his head to take your facial features in. "They have the best steak I've ever had, amazing garlic butter."

You were beyond tense, but a relaxed smile crept onto your lips. "I just might have to try that. Who else is coming?"

"My father's friends, one is another don, and my two other brothers. I wouldn't worry though, they might ask you a few questions but I would just let me do the talking." He gave you a kind smile, turning back to the driver and telling him the name of the restaurant.

"I don't mean to be rude, but if anything happens I'll have to leave and take care of it."

"Oh! I know, they know. My family actually told me to, uh, rent a girlfriend for the auction days." He ran a hand through his chocolate locks, a sigh escaping his lips and he relaxed in his chair. "Rumor has it that something bad might happen during this auction. Something about sleeping? Like death."

"If that's the case, then I might have to take an early leave."

He gave you a cocky grin. "Just tell me what's happening outside the restaurant, I'm curious about what kind of stuff a hunter gets into."

You returned his gaze, finally relaxing just a bit more. "I'll make sure to keep you posted."

"Sir," alerted the driver. "We're here."

"Good! Let's get something to eat, shall we?"

You nodded, sliding your dress to the side to exit the vehicle. "Oh! Please, don't make me look bad." He jested, quickly shuffling to your side to open the door. "I'll embarrass myself in front of my dad."

"About that, I never introduced myself did I? My name is (y/n)."

He gave a dopey grin. "Right, I'm Jason, it probably would be a good idea to know each other's names, huh? Well, let's go before my dad thinks we are doing something suggestive." He winked and held out his arm for you to take, in which you did with a small scoff.

The two of you walked into the restaurant, a grand archway with a fancy chandelier lighting up the entire entrance with a warm glow. Black marble coated the floor with a glossy reflection, and your heels clicked against them with an elegant sway of your dress.

A man stood at the enterence, another shorter version of Jason. "Ah, Jason! How've you been?" He glanced over at you and gave a devilish grin. "Wow, what a catch. Maybe she'll decide to stay?"

The new stranger sauntered over, a shoulder being wrapped around your shoulders. "If he isn't your type I'm always available. Jackson, by the way." He whispered in your ear with a raspy tone.

"Ignore him," Jason mumbled to you, his cheeks slightly flushed in embarrassment, "He's always like this with any human of the female gender."

Humor yourself, or let the poor man walk away with some of his dignity intact? Nah, if you were going to give some of your dignity with these men you might as well have some fun. "You poor thing," You began, turning with a gentle smile to the brother. "Can't keep it in his pants, hmm?" You softly patted the fluffy hair on his head and pouted, shuffling out of his grip and wrapping your arm back with Jason. "Better luck next time." You retorted with a little wave.

With his breath caught in his throat, he coughed and turned to the direction of where their table was. "The tables this way, dad's already there." His mumbling quieted down as he led the way.

Jason turned to you, kept in a laugh, and shrugged. The restaurant was warm along with the cozy glow of the chandeliers hanging from the tall roof. There were many tables, black with cushioned chairs and blazing candles.

Your eyes zeroed on the candles, the beautifully dangerous flame causing you to start sweating. You gulped down the lump in your throat and forced yourself to relax your tensing limbs. 'It's just a small flame, nothing to be afraid of.' You scolded yourself.

The two of you wondered into a private room in the back. There was a large, round, black table in the center of the room, a few couches on the walls with side tables. There were a few candles in the center along with a crystal vase filled with blood red roses. As much as you loved the roses, they reminded you of him.

To distract yourself you glanced around the room, the father and Jackson were conversing, the other son sitting and listening. Jackson pointed in your direction, a sly smirk on his face.

Jason leaned in. "That's my dad," he pointed over to one of the other walls near the couch. A man was leaning on the side, his crisp suit wrinkling with his crossed legs. He had a beard, small but neat, with deep blue eyes and tan flesh. "That is Manchile, he's the Don I was talking about."

There were a few other notable people, but when Jason and you entered the entire room lightened up. The father stood and sauntered over, a sleazy smile gracing his gruff features. "I hope Jason didn't make a move on you?" He extended his hand, slightly calloused from use, but large and warm.

You took it with a gentle smile, time to suck up your pride and be a darling. "I wouldn't worry about him, he's quite the gentleman." Your hand was in worse shape than his, more rough, and must have noticed. The father's face changed into one of surprise and respect. "I'd watch out for that one though." You pointed to Jackson, the man lightly scoffing with a grin.

"Will do." He said with a chuckle.

Manchile joined the table, a few of his men sitting down too. "I'm starved, let's eat."

"Sure thing." The father returned his attention to Jason and you. "Ladies first."

The table was filled, and you ended up being sandwiched between Jason and Manchile. Your eyes would periodically go back to the candles in front of you, and all you could do was twist a small bit of your dress skirt to calm your nerves. You all ordered, and you took your date's advice with the steak.

As you were waiting, the unknown brother, leaned in and gave you a curious smile. "So, a hunter huh? I've never met one, what's it like?"

All eyes were on you now, and you relaxed with the distraction. "It's dangerous work... but if you were trained correctly then it is worth it. Plenty of benefits as long as you hunt something."

"Who trained you?" His green eyes gleamed begins his thin glasses. "Sorry if I'm prying, just curious."

"I don't mind. I trained myself. I've always wanted to become a hunter."

"Really? Ooh, what about the test? I've heard it's impossible!"

You slightly smiled, Manchile leaning in and joining the conversation. "Some of my men are hunters, they talked about fighting each other and impossible puzzles. My best man had to find the damned test four times before he made it."

You cocked an eyebrow. "Well he's not wrong. All the tests are different but we did have to fight each other. There were some puzzles but I didn't think they were that difficult...." You locked your lipstick and took a sip of your water, keeping your posture and chin held high. "Four times huh? I got my license on my first try."

Manchile cackled in his water cup. "Really? You make my best look like babies." The waiter returned with a large bottle of red wine and began to pour it to everyone who wanted some. You declined, drinking on the job wouldn't bid well if something happened. "Next your going to say you could win against one of the beasts."

You stayed silent, doing your best to keep your smile hidden behind your glass of water. Jason peeked over and noticed your curled lips. "No way, seriously?"

"Not sure, never tried." You commented, giving him a cocky side eye. "But probably."

It was the father's turn to laugh, Jackson joining in with some bread in his hands. "Come on, no one's stronger than the beasts. You've got to be crazy."

The father butted in with a joke. "You're a bounty hunter right? You didn't come here to take us out, hmm?"

"No, no, that'd be bad for business. I'm actually after the Phantom Troupe." The table quieted down, so you continued. "Rumor has it some people will 'sleep' tonight, take that as you will, I'm just here for security purposes. More or less."

Manchile waved over a waiter and asked for another bottle before asking some more questions. "You think they will attack? What makes you think they are crazy enough to challenge the mafia?"

"Well, I will admit I don't have proof, but it would be a missed opportunity. I mean if people are going to 'sleep' then the only criminals crazy enough to try anything would be the Troupe. They are also strong enough to do so. I guess you could say it's a hunch."

A few new waiters entered with the food. They set it on the table, asked if we needed anything else, and left.

"Well, son, you found one interesting woman, huh?"

Jason gave a breathy laugh, as if he was trying to keep his nerves together. "Yeah, I guess I did."

The current conversation died out and turned into useless banter. What they wanted to get from the auctions, who they would be fighting it for, money, fame, glory, all of it. Jason leaned over and asked if you wanted something, but you declined the generous offer. You knew there would be Kurt's eyes, but buying them seemed a bit off. Almost like cheating.

You wanted to collect them through force, just like they did, only then will you be satisfied. Still, you appreciated the offer and made sure he knew you did.

Everything was calm, the food was hot and the candles became a later memory from the conversations you were listening in on. That was until a sudden ding echoed in the private room. Then another, and another, and quickly everyone's phones rang of emergency alerts and messages.

You didn't have to glance over Jason's shoulder to see the message, you already knew what happened. Still, a part of you checked to make sure you didn't have to leave the welcoming lot of individuals.

You didn't know wether to be disappointed or excited, but either way you faced your date. "I'll head over to the auction house to investigate—"

"We all will." Commanded the father. "The merchandise is missing, as well as everyone else."

"Everyone else?"

Manchile pulled himself from his seat. "Owl grabbed the stuff before shit went down. But everyone in the auction house is gone, poof, missing." There was another synchronized ding. "There's a hot air balloon heading south."

"In the direction of Meteor City?" You commented, already heading towards the door. "I'll head over there. Keep me informed, I need a list of the people missing and a list of people chasing down the balloon. Anything else of importance will help." You pointed to Jason, but he held out his hand.

"Do you think it's the Troupe?"

You turned and stared into his chocolate eyes, his brows furrowed with worry. So you smiled kindly. "I know it's the Troupe."

"Get the Shadow Beasts." The father's voice trailed off behind the door.

You were calm as you walked through the restaurant, the hectic banter of the trailing mafia men closely behind. They passed you and exited, you quickly following suit. The outside air was crisp and humid from an old rain and the clouds coated the sky like a blanket.

"Are you calling them Jared?"

"Hurry and get worm on the phone Jackson!"

"You already have the merchandise? Good, good, keep it safe and get the others. Worm, Rabid Dog, Porcupine, and Leech are already on their way."

"(Y/n)! If it's the Troupe you should wait for the other beasts and go with them. Just to be safe." Jason held your hand, finally noticing the toughness of your overworked hands. His were soft, raised with little trouble unlike yourself.

"I'll be fine, I'm strong enough to last against one, maybe two of the members if I'm lucky." You slipped your hand from his grip and tore off your expensive heels, no need for them to get ruined like your dress. "Can you hold these for me? I'd hate for them to get dirty." You handed him your pearls, leaving the earrings because they wouldn't get caught on anything. "I'll have to come back and get them."

You smiled at him again and summoned your gauntlets, dashing off to catch a hot air balloon. He stared at your disappearing form, a clear as day blush spread across his cheeks.

~~~

You made it after a while of running, but the battle had already begun. You stationed yourself on top of the plateau surrounding the battlefield, and already you scolded yourself for not trying to keep the beasts as back-up.

Their bodies littered the floors and blood soaked the dry earth. Biting your lip, you assessed the playing field. Uvogin sat alone, a hairy man you could only assume was the Porcupine character stuck to his fist. The rest of the Troupe members, not all of them, sat along the sides with cards in their hands. Machi, Nobunaga, Feitan, Franklin, Shizuku and Shalnark. You wondered if that was everyone or if someone was hiding.

Next was a few mafia men smart enough to not engage in battle, but why haven't they run off yet? You would have taken more care in who they might be, but you were quickly cut off with an ear piercing scream. You covered your ears and crouched down further, wincing at your late reaction.

Uvogin smiled and waited. Blood spurt from Porcupine's ears and not a moment later he fell to the floor with a dead eyed thud. The mafia men began to make their move, so you wondered closer to where they were stationed.

Then it happened, chains tightly wound themselves around Uvogin and tugged him into oblivion. Chains... chains! Kurapika! With your new revelation you ran towards the car everyone was piling into. But in no time Uvogin was packed in and they began their drive away.

With a low growl you sprinted faster and jumped off the cliff side and towards the first car. You tumbled onto the roof, denting it underneath the impact, and attached yourself with your gauntlets.

Your burning rage dismissed the passenger's window, and you smashed into it without care for who was on the other side. Gripping their shirt and almost pulling them out, the frightened girl screeching. "Kurapika!"

Two pairs of red eyes stared into each other's souls. He knew he was in deep shit. "(Y/n)-"

"Don't you fucking dare." You snapped, pointing your finger to the man tied up in the backseat., but your eyes stayed glued on the blond. "I swear to god if I hear any bullshit I'm going to tear a tongue out!"

"Someone's in a pissy mood." A deep voice reverberated through the small confines of the black car. Finally, you glared at the man in the back seat, his entire body tied under nen chains.

"Eat lead Uvo."

"Already checked off the bucket list (y/n/n)."

God, you hated that nickname.

#yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere phantom troupe #yandere chrollo lucilfer #Yandere chrollo #Yandere Phantom Troupe x reader #Yandere chrollo x reader #just a teaser because this one is a long one #Kurta reader #fem reader #Yandere x reader #not even a teaser literally probably the first half #maybe the first third of the full fiction #Yandere hunter x hunter fanfic #puttin grandom tags cause it’s late #love you guys #strong reader

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angelhummel · 3 years

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what would you do with the characters you don't like if you had power over glee? would you completely get rid of them, replace them or rewrite them to be something different?

I mean the mean part of me wants to say I would just scrap Brittany completely bc she didn't amount to anything in the end asjdfhlfsk BUT if I'm trying to be creative then no, that's too easy. With Brittany, there are two ways I could play it

1) She actually is quite clever but puts on the typical ditzy cheerleader act for funsies. To make sure Quinn knows she isn't a blonde rival threat lol. To mess with guys who think they can take advantage of her. Mostly for her own amusement, to see the looks on people's faces whenever she says something "dumb". But she drops the act midway thru s2 (when they quit the cheerios) and we get to see her for who she really is. Sharp and blunt at the same time, with a sardonic and dry wit that sometimes goes over people's heads. But she's dropped the dumbass act to be a lil smart ass

"How do you know my dim-witted inexperience isn't merely a subtle form of manipulation used to lower people's expectations thereby enhancing my ability to effectively maneuver within any given situation?"

2) She is kind of a ditz but she actually has the emotional intelligence that people claim she has. But the good "Go back in there and be there for Kurt", "family is a place where everyone loves you no matter what" kind, not the "you have to actually eat the chocolate bar or it will melt and look like you have poop in your hand". Basically Brittany talking about poop or toilets or anything in that same vein is strictly forbidden. She's not great in school, makes C's and D's in her main classes. But has creative electives like art, photography, creative writing, etc and does amazingly in those classes. She has her own unique way of looking at things and offers her own unique wisdom to help put things in perspective from time to time

Either way, she is never a complete fucking bonehead turned math genius bc that is fucking awful. And maybe you could even add in the actual autism angle bc like. Doesn't understand social cues, takes things too literally, etc. And either way she would graduate in s3 and get out of my face. So that's what I'd do with Brittany

Finn is easier but also harder bc this is such a gargantuan task and deviation from canon but. Have him actually be more like the person we're told he is. You TELL me he is this amazing uniter of cliques, kind hearted, perfect blend of a jock and show choir god, ushering the school into a new age of togetherness. You SHOW me he is a lil bitch who runs away from the club at the slightest difficulty, drops slurs and outs people on the reg, wants to be the leader without putting in the work, and is kind of a ball hog who actually sucks at football and isn't that great a singer. What's not clicking

Obviously Finn doesn't have to be perfect. He can have issues and uncertainties. But holy shit maybe have one issue once or twice. Doing this same bullshit half a dozen times and never learning a lesson makes me hate him!!!! Idk man just make him less of a fucking asshole

And don't fucking act like he ascended to sainthood when he died. I'm sorry but that bullshit about like "Finn wanted Sam in the club bc he was looking for someone to take over his legacy when he was gone" like shut the fuck up that actually sounds insane. Don't fucking do that. Finn is just a dude. Just make him be a kind of chill and cool dude with his heart in the right place but he slips up and makes mistakes bc he's still human. He doesn't use slurs or out anyone. He isn't constantly beating people up. He doesn't attack a sex worker, thanks. Maybe don't make him a serial cheater either, that would be nice

As for Sebastian, yeah, no, you can scrap him completely. He isn't interesting or fun and it actually drives me insane that he's the fifth most popular character on ao3. You can have your own preferences, you can like a little rich bitch bratty bad boy villain wannabe. But knowing that that many people are so far up his butt makes me wanna scream lol

Shelby, I would change her plotline by having her end up in jail. That would be a nice arc for her character

Will, I would change him by having him be a decent teacher. Broke: himbo Finn. Woke: himbo Will. He's kind and tries his best but he is shockingly dumb. Doesn't realize his wife isn't really pregnant for like five months?? The pieces are there. He sometimes lets himself be bulldozed in his own classroom but when other students talk, he listens. Takes their suggestions, actually shines a light on everyone, helps them improve and lets everyone have their moment in the spotlight. In the end everyone loves him and when he wins teacher of the year, it doesn't feel like a hollow bullshit contrivance

Sue. Either make her drop the villain shtick by about s3, or get rid of her entirely. Talk about going around in circles. I really think she was the worst of it. It got sooo old and boring and it was the same thing for six seasons. So have her be an ally to the club come s3, after her sister's funeral bc that makes sense. Or just write her off. Idc how

Don't ever let Rory set fucking foot on this show. Sorry to the actor but that character was partially responsible for why s3 went down the fucking shitter. He was terrible, and having to write plots about being Irish made early s3 a fucking joke

Oh and I would magically make it so that the viewers of the show have some common fucking sense. And if a character is being racist or a bigot or just a general cunt, there wouldn't be 2395890 compilation videos on youtube praising them for being brutally honest or sassy or hilarious or what have you. :) You know, if I had THAT kind of power

So yeah those are my thoughts. Took me a while to answer but I appreciate the ask!

#glee #long post #asks #answered #my thoughts #anonymous #anti brittany pierce #lol brittany pierce #anti finn hudson #lol finn hudson #anti sebastian smythe #lol sebastian smythe #i think those are the only ones people actually like #for whatever reason #no one's out here for rory or shelby so they dont need anti tags #i assume #also that quote in regards to brittany is from scream 2 #from dewey deputity dewey boy

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aedwritesfic · 4 years

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Hi! Can I have a Ginny x Luna smut story where they finally admit there feelings to each other and they are madly in love with each other and it’s at the burrow in Ginny’s room? Thanks can’t wait to see it I know it’ll be amazing! :)

Hey nonnie, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to reply. Thank you for your patience. I had so much fun writing this fluffy and smutty Linny for you! Once I started writing, I just couldn’t stop. I hope you like it!

It Happened One Night

“Shhh!” Ginny tried to suppress her giggles, but they seemed to be bursting out of her like a child’s accidental magic. She cast a silencing spell at the door and the walls, hoping their laughter and conversation wouldn’t wake the rest of the house.

Luna stood on the bed, her riot of blonde waves cascading over her shoulders as she attempted to examine the rafters for Blibbering Humdingers or other such nonsense. They may have snuck a bit more of the Christmas brandy than they were necessarily allowed, but honestly, what did it matter? They would be of age before the school year let out and there was a war on. Now was the time for teenage rebellion. Now was the time to throw caution to the wind—in some regard at least—and truly allow yourself to live.

Smiling, Luna crouched back down on the bed and continued her animated impromptu lecture on beings the average Wix could not see. Ginny tried to pay attention, she really did, but she found herself completely captivated by the woman’s hands.

Long, pale fingers danced along to her lilting ethereal voice, almost telling a story of their own. The still slightly pink scar on the side of the left index finger from an incident with a bread knife last summer, the almost translucent smattering of white-blonde hair along the knuckles, the deep lines on her palm that Ginny had studied during Divination, it all told the story of a life well-lived. A life that Ginny had been privileged enough to be involved in.

Luna’s hand accidentally brushed against Ginny’s and without thinking, Ginny captured it, lacing their fingers together tanned and freckled against alabaster. She allowed herself to gently manipulate the other woman’s hand, transfixed by the beauty and the power someone so light and unassuming could possess. With those hands, Luna could build something beautiful or tear everything down. People at school had been horrible to Luna, yet every day, she chose to share kind words, lend a hand, and love unconditionally. It was a marvel.

Ginny hadn’t noticed the stillness that came over the room. It wasn’t until Luna gently pulled her hand away that she came back to herself. Ginny blushed furiously and tried to think up an excuse as to why she had just been playing with her best friend’s hand.

Before she could say anything though, Luna leaned forward and tucked a strand of coppery red hair behind Ginny’s ear. “Please don’t,” she whispered almost shyly. “Not unless you mean it.”

“What?” Ginny asked, shifting under her friend’s penetrative gaze.

“There was a fire in your eyes,” she explained quietly, crawling over to sit beside Ginny. “You’re slightly impulsive, now especially because of the brandy, and whatever it was that flashed through your head… if you acted upon it, I think you would regret it later.”

She straightened her shoulders, sitting up a bit further. “I’ve never regretting anything a day in my life.”

“No, you haven’t,” she sighed. “But I don’t think it would be wise. There are too many Wrackspurts about as it is. I’d rather not have to deal with an infestation.”

“Why would you have to deal with Wrackspurts, Luna?” she murmured.

“Because whatever it was you were going to do, I doubt that you would have really meant it, and that would… that would be cause enough for an infestation.”

Ginny’s breath caught in her throat. For years, she had quietly harboured a crush on her best friend in the entire world. Luna had never shown any romantic interest in anyone and so she had just assumed that such things didn’t matter to the woman. Ginny had stopped herself from saying anything so many times, had forced herself to attempt to move on, but no matter how hard she tried, her heart always beat for Luna.

Turning to face her friend, Ginny grabbed Luna’s hand again, squeezing gently. “Luna, what makes you think that I wouldn’t mean it? I’ve…” she took a deep breath, pushing away her nerves and throwing caution to the wind. “Luna, I have cared for you for so long. Why would I lie to you?”

Luna smiled sadly, “I know that you would never intentionally say or do anything to hurt me, but—”

Ginny couldn’t stand it any longer. She surged forward, capturing Luna’s face in her hands and rested their foreheads together brown eyes staring imploringly into silver. Merlin, Ginny could get lost in those eyes that so resembled the early morning mist.

“Do you really not know?” she whispered. “You know so much about the world, you see what others don’t even bother to take the time to look for, and yet you really don’t know just how wholly you affect me?”

Luna sat back a little, cocking her head to the side like she did when she was drawing a conclusion. “You love me.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“As more than just friends.”

Ginny nodded and vigorously tried to blink away the tears that threatened to spill over. “I do. And, I completely understand that you don’t feel the same or are even remotely interested in anything other than friendships. I just… How can you think that I don’t mean every single thing that I’ve ever said to you? Every touch that I’ve given you?”

“No one has ever wanted to be more than friends with me before,” Luna said in a small voice.

“Well, I have.”

Luna stared up at her, a calculating look flitted across her face as she took in all the data that surrounded her: the slight tremble in Ginny’s hands, her eyes which implored Luna to believe, the way she bit her lip at the bottom left corner like she did whenever she was nervous.

“I didn’t realize…” Luna whispered. “You’ve only been with men, so I never thought—”

Again, Ginny reached for her hand, holding it between her own, cradling it as though it were something precious. “I couldn’t give a shit about what’s between someone’s legs. It’s about the person. I’ve loved you for so long Luna, but I thought you weren’t… interested in that type of thing.”

A pretty pink flush stained Luna’s cheeks. “Not usually, no. But it’s different with you. I can’t quite describe it, but it’s like all the rules change when it comes to you.” She averted her eyes and bit her pretty pink lip as if trying to decide whether or not to share a secret. But after a moment, she leaned in close and whispered against Ginny’s ear—the warmth of her breath tickling freckled flesh, “You make me feel safe.”

Before Ginny could fully grasp those words, Luna’s hands came up to run through her fiery locks tugging gently at the roots. She sighed and leaned into the touch. Luna knew that she loved having her hair played with. Ever since they were girls, the two had constantly been braiding each other’s hair or just touching it absentmindedly. But now, this touch, it was completely different. The pull was purposeful, it was meant not to calm or play, but to arouse. She allowed Luna to guide her so their lips were only a hairsbreadth apart.

“I love you, Ginevra,” Luna sighed before crashing their lips together in a searing kiss.

Ginny had experienced many first kisses in her sixteen years, some tentative and sweet, some passionate and sloppy. None of them had prepared her for this. They had not prepared her for the overwhelming softness of Luna’s lips, the way Luna seemed to be embracing her soul, not merely pressing her lips or shoving her tongue into Ginny’s mouth. She wasn’t being kissed. She was sharing a kiss. Though earnest, it didn’t feel as though Luna was trying to conquer or lay claim to her. It felt like they were joining together and making something brand new.

Ginny wound her arms around Luna’s waist and drew the woman into her lap, soft thighs straddling her athletic hips. She didn’t want to rush things, but the pool of heat in her core begged her to get closer, touch, taste, feel. But she held back. Luna said that she wasn’t normally interested in these sorts of things. She wasn’t going to push, no matter how badly she wanted to.

As if reading her thoughts, Luna pulled back slightly, breaking their kiss. Staring deeply into her eyes, Luna moved Ginny’s hands from her waist to breasts. “I want you to touch me,” Luna murmured. “Will you make me feel good?”

The breath caught in Ginny’s throat. “Are you sure?”

The woman smiled serenely and nodded. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.”

Ginny groaned, burying her face in the crook of Luna’s neck. She allowed herself to become intoxicated by the woman’s words.

“I’ve sometimes touched myself at night, wishing that my fingers were yours. It was nice, but I got the feeling that it would have been exquisite if you were the one actually doing the touching. That maybe then, I would really know what the fuss was all about.”

Sitting up, Ginny stared deeply into her friend’s eyes, that in the dark of her bedroom looked like starlight. “Luna, I haven’t actually touched a woman before. I don’t know if I’ll—”

Luna silenced her with a kiss before moving Ginny’s hand back to her breast and squeezing.

“Are you sure?” she asked again, wanting to make sure Luna understood. “It’s okay if sex isn’t something you find enjoyable. We don’t need to do anything that you’re not interested in.”

“Just touch me how you touch yourself,” Luna said breathily as Ginny’s deft fingers absently plucked at her nipple. “If we don’t like it we’ll stop.”

Not giving Ginny another chance to speak, Luna leaned forward and placed a kiss just below her ear, on top of the smattering of freckles that resembled the Pleiades. Ginny gasped and allowed her hands to start slowly unbuttoning Luna’s pyjama top. She marvelled at the pale smooth skin as gooseflesh rose beneath her touch. It was perfect, and she longed to leave her mark.

Unwilling to wait any longer, Ginny trailed hot open-mouthed kisses down Luna’s chest, from the place where shoulder meets neck, down the clavicle in the valley between the woman’s ample breasts. She darted out her tongue and allowed it to ascend the swell of flesh that led to the rosey mountain’s peak, cataloguing every moan and sigh she wrenched from Luna’s lips. Her fingers played with the twin’s peak, plucking and caressing.

Without even realizing it, the women had tumbled backwards onto the bed, Ginny nestled into the perfect cradle of Luna’s thighs. Luna gasped and arched when Ginny blew cold air against a pebbled nipple, hips bucking against Ginny’s own as if they were crying out for attention too. Luna moaned something under her breath. With a slight shiver, their remaining clothing disappeared leaving them bare.

Ginny took a moment to revel in the sparking rush she felt in every place their bodies touched. Skin on skin. All of it. At last. She drew up level with Luna and kissed her firmly, unable to think of anything else she would rather be doing until the woman broke the kiss with a desperately pleading, “Please.”

Unable to resist the temptation any longer. Luna’s breasts had tasted like strawberries picked at the height of summer and she needed to know if the rest of her tasted just as sweet. Ginny dove down, placing kisses and caresses along the way before coming to rest at the thatch of golden curls between her friend’s—her lover’s—legs. She looked up into grey eyes, silently asking one more time.

Luna reached down and buried a hand in Ginny’s hair, using it to direct the woman to her wanting core.

Ginny paused for a moment. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the few times anyone had ever kissed her there. What she had liked. What she had wished they had done. Ginny allowed herself only a second to marvel at the beauty of Luna’s cunt. How it glistened with arousal just for her. Knowing that she had done this. That she was the reason her friend was wet was because of her. That knowledge bolstered her confidence and pushed her forward as she licked Luna firmly from opening to clit, stopping only to suck gently on the perfect bud.

The reaction was instantaneous. Luna bucked her hips so violently that Ginny had to press down on the woman’s hips to keep her in place. When another lick brought on the same reaction along with a litany of moaned nonsense, Ginny hooked Luna’s knees over her shoulders and pulled her lover even closer to her by the hips, feasting on her lover’s pretty pink quim.

Not being able to resist, Ginny reached down to her own aching cunt and began rutting against her palm. The delightful friction had her moaning against Luna’s clit. Luna’s grip tightened in her hair, almost painfully as the woman screamed out her orgasm, squirting her release onto Ginny’s mouth and chin. The rush of warm liquid combined with the sounds of ecstasy and the delightful friction of her palm sent her over the edge, quivering and panting against Luna’s thigh.

The next thing she knew, gentle hands pulled her up into a warm embrace. Sweet words of praise were murmured into her hair while fingers lightly caressed her skin. When she came back to herself, Luna brushed the hair away from Ginny’s eyes and placed a soft kiss on lips still damp from her own release.

“You’re perfect,” Ginny whispered, clutching Luna close.

The woman hummed. “No, my love. We are perfect together.”

#answered #Linny #Ginny x Luna #Luna x Ginny #Ginny Weasley #Luna Lovegood #femslash #ficlet #hp fanfic

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pinepickled-artblog · 3 years

Photo

I finally drew my Obey Me MC, Arbor! He is an immortal sorceror, older than modern and ancient religion alike, and his boy of choice is Michael! I’m going to be drawing more of his wardrobe, and they come in two sets: Sunlight and Moonshine. This outfit is from his Sunlight collection! More under the cut~

~ He is best friends with Solomon, and finds it very amusing how Solomon barely knows how to use magic yet is the most skilled sorcerer in the Sorcerer’s Society

~ His first pact was with Mammon, and he placed the pact mark right under his belly button.

~ Arbor is extremely laid back, to the point where Belphie stabbing him had little impact on him in the grand scheme of things.

~ He had little interest in demons and demonic pacts before, and only interacted with them at all to humor Solomon

~ Has two angels who love him dearly, Cassiel (who I headcanon as Simeon’s blond twin) and Michael!

~ His ball park is nature, anything nature related he basically rules over. He also has a little gecko tattoo that runs around his body and is a little shit

~ He refuses to bottom in most circumstances, and it stems from an ancient sex culture where bottoming was seen as ‘losing’. In the same vain, Arbor has indeed ‘lost’ a few times, and they were very painful but not something he feels the need to dwell on for long.

~ He’s considers to have ‘lost’ to two beings he interacts with often, Mera (an octopus mage) and Michael (fucked around and found out)

~ Lucifer desperately wants to show him affection, but Arbor has no intention of making Lucifer’s intention any easier to carry out. Being a demon of pride and needing to tell the strange human they make you weak is quite a big task.

~ Leviathan, on the other hand, is someone Arbor is greatly fond of. Sadly Levi is more occupied with a certain Grand Admiral.

~ Satan is someone who avoids him with great effort. Arbor, for lack of a better word, scares him :)

~ Asmodeus is torn between avoiding Arbor and seeking him out constantly due to reasons I will be revealing in Arbor’s story

~ Beelzebub and Belphie find his presence soothing, and since the sin Arbor most identifies with is Sloth, Belphie adores him

~ Michael entered a Blessing (the angelic version of a pact) with Arbor due to the Angel Event. Arbor lost his shit- something that is extremely rare- and beat the shit out of Simeon until Michael appeared to appease him.

~ Arbor is also extremely old and extremely powerful, so beating up an Archangel with his bare hands wasn’t too difficult.

~ Don’t make Arbor angry and you’ll be fine.

If you want to see more of Arbor, check out my fics on ao3, ObeyMeMember where Arbor features the most often, as well as a playful little smut fic with Arbor and the beautiful @lunakurenai‘s OC, Ayano! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy him!

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

This isn’t my usual Maribat, but I am testing out a new story just to get the creative juices flowing. This is a One Piece and Pokémon crossover, starring a Sylveon named Fae. Based off of/inspired by “the smallest straw hat” on fanfiction.net. It’s a new style and type of story from my usual, but I wanted to try it out. I love “The Smallest Straw Hat,” and I couldn’t help but wanna try out my own addition to the world, even if it isn’t canon. And I... kinda love Sylveon? like a lot?

—*—*—*—*—*

Everyone has their stereotypes about the color pink. And bows. Girly, they say with either fondness or disgust. Childish, they say with either nostalgia or scorn. Weak, they say. Because apparently “childish” and “girly” are both synonymous with “this thing/person is powerless,” or “useless,” or “worthless.”

Heh. I parade down the streets of the latest town I managed to reach, ears and tail raised high in show of my pride to be pink. Sure, I had my natural bows of fur that were just, well, part of me. And sure, I was mostly pink and white. But such was the design of every Sylveon, and most of my race were actually male. So. Everyone who immediately wrote us, and by extension me, off as being a girl just because of my appearance royally pissed me off.

I was proud to be pink. Nobody in their right mind, who knew anything about Pokémon, dared to treat a Sylveon as a weakling.

If they did, I’d make sure they knew better soon enough.

But alas, I wasn’t anywhere near Home. Back Home, everyone knew about Pokémon. We are everywhere. But all the way out here, where I was sure hardly any other Pokémon have ever ventured? Not a single human seemed to know the word, and by extension the entire species, even existed. The animals out here were all…

Normal.

Even more normal than Normal types. It was… jarring, at first. But I got used to it after a while. Life on the oceans, jumping from island to island on whatever ship I could get on, was fun. Compared to back Home, the living things out here didn’t surprise me often. So I could just enjoy everything I saw and did.

After That Day, the pure-hearted adventure was welcome.

“What is that?” And here come the whispers. Humans don’t seem to change much, no matter where I go. Fingers pointed at me, not expecting me to be fully aware of what they were saying and doing, as I garnered stares just by walking down the street.

“Some kinda fox, it’s gotta be with those ears and snout. I’ve never seen a pink and white fox before though!”

“Those bows look so real, like they could be part of the thing’s body!”

“No way that’s a fox, it’s gotta be a weird cat!”

“Those are bunny ears. Maybe it’s a mutated rabbit!”

I ignored everyone. It wasn’t like they would understand me anyway. A few brave thugs tried to tackle and grab me, but I’m no hatchling. I easily pranced and jumped out of their grasp, humming a random tune under my breath as I did so. Figuring a little fun wouldn’t hurt, I chanced them a little wink and channeled a bit of my charm. The weak-willed dolts were slumped in a pile in seconds, too enamored by my cuteness to even move. Chuckling, I just turned and pranced away.

Humans really never change.

Screams erupted, making me pause. I whipped my head around, trying to find the source of the sound. It was accompanied by the crackling of flames and thumps of heavy things being knocked over.

Too familiar. Too, too familiar.

I grit my jaw, turning as soon as I located the direction the cacophony was coming from and running straight for it. I might be a Pokémon, but I couldn’t stand screams. I failed my Home, my family. I was damned if I didn’t try my best not to fail people in peril again. Even if it was just humans, I had to try to help.

I had to.

Such was part of the reason I traveled. I was enjoying my adventure, sure, but there were two other reasons I didn’t try to head back Home. One; I was searching for someone. Two; as soon as I realized that Pokémon didn’t exist outside of Home, I decided I had to use my powers to help anyone I could. Heh. Guess a certain old friend of mine rubbed off on me, now I’m running into danger constantly without any plans. They’d be so proud.

Sliding around a corner, I finally saw it. Almost an entire street was aflame, the flags that flew just off the shore stopping me in my tracks for a second.

Marines.

I had spent enough time out on the seas to know how corrupt the supposed “good guys,” could be. Hiding under my breath, I ran toward the first burning building I could see. If there was anyone stuck inside, I had to get to them. But as I got to the door, I had to stumble back to avoid being trampled as a large, blond man came out carrying two passed out bodies over his shoulders. My squeak of surprise apparently caught his attention, and for a moment his black eyes met mine. He paused, scanning the street for a second before continuing on.

I followed him. I don’t know why, but something told me he got everyone left in that building, and was trying to finish getting those last two to safety. Regardless, I had no idea what was going on and he seemed to. For now, I’d get my cues from him.

He made his way to a large ship with a dragon figurehead, and I leapt to hide behind the corner of a not-burning building to watch as he handed the wounded people on his shoulders off to apparent allies of his before he took off again. Once more, I followed. This time, before he could even touch the door to another building that was on fire, I beat him there.

I let my ribbons expand, feeling as they started to glow. The light attracted his attention soon enough, making the man pause. He put a hand on the pipe that I now noticed was on his back, but otherwise only watched me. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to attack, I focused back on the building and let the power from my ribbon-feelers build up in front of my snout. Opening my mouth, I set off the move with a roar. My voice was the final trigger, power blasting out from my mouth in the form of a giant storm of winds, clashing into each other and whirling madly until they hit the building. The force of my fairy wind put out the flames on the whole building, though it left me slightly short of breath. I turned my head back to the blond, nodding my head to the building.

He grinned at me, taking his hand off his pipe and rushing into the building without me having to try to get the message across a second time.

That was when the footsteps stole my attention, and I whirled around. A veritable army of Marines was headed straight for me— no, straight for the building I had just put out. They were after the blond man.

I felt a growl build up in the back of my throat, quickly separating my legs and taking a fighting stance. The blond was one of the few people I could see actually trying to help with this horrid situation, I wouldn’t let anyone get in his way! But if there’s one good thing about everything I’ve been through, it’s that fighting is nothing new to me. I’d take care of these jerks, and buy that blond guy time to save as many people as he could.

As usual, nobody seemed to take the sight of me seriously. The marines seemed just about ready to run me over, but I wasn’t about to allow that.

“Idiots. You won’t pass me!” I shouted, though all they heard was “Sylveon! Eon!”

Taking a deep breath, I once again channeled my power into my feelers. Letting them raise and float straight up in the air, I narrowed my eyes and sang the tune that came naturally to me at that point. My voice rang through the air as if there were no other sounds to muffle it, as if there were no screams or flames or crumbling buildings at all. As my short song echoed unnaturally across the street, a thick fog burst into being around my feet before quickly spreading until it covered the entire block and went ten feet high. Only the area directly behind me was spared, since I didn’t want to hinder the blond man that I was doing this to protect.

The magical cloud of fog was thick and almost viscous, and it merely swayed in place instead of moving like a normal fog. It hung there, taunting and obstructing the marine assholes caught inside. I could hear the fumbles and curses as they began to trip over on another, unable to get their bearings. But merely stalling them wasn’t enough. Steadying myself, it had been a while since I had had a proper fight, I raised my head and changed my tone. Focusing on the people I could feel trapped in my fog, I let loose a siren-like wail that I knew from experience burrowed itself into the brains of those that I targeted with it. It didn’t even take a second for the screams of pain to rise up from within the fog, but I knew that it wasn’t enough to knock any of them out.

I sighed; sure defending and attacking strategically was a strong point of mine, but that didn’t mean it was very exciting. I admit, I might have a bit of an adrenaline addiction. I like fighting up close, so what? But that wasn’t my job, right then I had to just stall these guys so that—

“I got them out, nice job,” the voice that came from behind me made me jump, and I turned around to see the very man I had decided to stall for. He grinned widely at me, his mouth almost making a full D shape. “These guys aren’t too strong, but they would have slowed me down for sure. But there were more people than I anticipated in those buildings, mind giving me a hand?” He jerked his head behind him. Blinking, I followed the gesture and almost fell over. At least ten people, all in various stages of injury or unconsciousness, were strewn on the sidewalk. No way that came all from the one building I put out! How fast was this guy?

A loud laugh drew my attention back to the blond, who was nearly doubled over with his cackling. “Y-y-you’re face! Hahahaha! Don’t be so surprised, little thing. I’m good at what I do. Now come on, think you can help me carry some of them? I think I can take four or five, how many can you get?”

I puffed out my cheeks, raising my head with a confident huff as I let my ribbons stretch out. “Sylvie!” These things aren’t just for show, ya know!

Walking forward and ignoring the heavy weight of the man’s stare as he watched me, I let each of my ribbons lift up two people each. The ones that were still conscious seemed to think that I was some fever dream, which at least kept them from struggling too much since they weren’t going to fight what they thought was a hallucination. I turned proudly, smiling at the man. See? Child’s play. You get the rest. “Eon? Sylvie Sylvie.”

He clearly didn’t understand me, but chuckled anyway. “Nice, you’re stronger than you look, for such a tiny thing,” watch it. “I’ll follow behind you with the rest, did you see the boat that I took the others to? Go there, my friends will know how to help these guys.”

I nodded, not waiting to see the blond grab the last three victims before I ran off in the direction of the dragon-designed ship. I actually scoffed a bit. No matter where I went, there was always something related to dragons. Why were humans so obsessed with those things anyway? They weren’t that impressive.

“Hey! What’re you doing with— oh, you’re handing them to me?” A girl with orange hair was waiting at the boarding platform for the ship, and seemed ready to fight until I all but shoved the people I was carrying at her. “Oh. Well, thanks?”

“Don’t worry, this little thing helped me out back there,” the blond had caught up, smiling at the woman as he handed off his own victims to someone else nearby. “Let’s get these guys to the infirmary, yeah? Wanna come with us, little one? The marines aren’t likely to forget you, you kinda stand out.”

I tilted my head. He had a point, I wasn’t exactly a stealthy Pokémon when it came to my appearance. And attacking marines was bound to get me in trouble later.

The blond seemed to notice my reluctance to just go off with strangers, and chuckled again before walking over and kneeling in front of me. “I guess it would help if I introduced myself, huh? You seem to understand me just fine. My name’s Sabo. I’m part of the revolutionary army, just like everyone on this ship,” he gestured to the boat behind him. “That girl is my friend Koala. What’s your name?”

“Sylveon.”

Sabo blinked, furrowing his brows a little. “Sylveon? What are you, then?”

“Sylveon,” honestly, dealing with humans who weren’t from Home was exhausting. Always the same questions, and I could never answer them any easier than I could before.

“Huh? Is that all you can say, your name?”

I huffed, already frustrated by this stupid language barrier. “Sylveon. Sylvi, syl, Eon. Sylveon.”

“So, Sylveon is the name of your species?” I nodded, close enough. “And that is all you can say? Variations of your name?” I nodded again. Finally, we were getting places. Sabo rocked back on his heels, humming as he observed me. “Can I call you Silky-Chan?”

Oh. Hell no. I growled, narrowing my eyes. Apparently that was amusing, because he just laughed at me.

“Come on, Silky-Chan. We can figure out more about you later, but we should go before they send stronger marines.”

I grumbled under my breath at the stupid nickname he gave me, but followed him on board anyway. If nothing else, he seemed interesting. I could always jump overboard when we got close to another island if I wanted to get away.

—*—*—*—*—*

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #pokemon #ONE PIECE x Pokémon crossover #Sylveon in ONE PIECE #Sylveon #Sylveon OC #Sabo #Sabo and Sylveon friendship!

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thebladeblaster · 3 years

Text

Heart of the Vanguard Concept Chapter part 1

(Concept chapters are basically just to test to see if people will like a fic idea I have. This fic crosses over Yugioh Duel Monsters and Cardfight Vanguard.)

(Note: Besides the god cards this fic will stick to tcg/ocg effects for simplicity. People can also still stupidly set cards in face up defense position.)

Yugi double checked that he had everything with him before making his trip. He tiptoed out of the door he sweat dropped as he felt a fiery glare aimed directly at him. It was his grandfather Solomon Mutou holding a broom as he had been previously sweeping with tightly.

“You're not going to another card shop, are you Yugi?”, his grandfather questioned, remembering the invitation his grandson had received earlier.

“W-what…of course not grandpa. I’m just uh...going to hangout with my friends. You know Jonouchi and the others.”, Yugi replied nervously.

“Um hm...well have fun!”, Solomon replied with a wave before going back to sweeping.

After closing the door the young Mutou took a sigh of relief. He met up with his friends Jonouchi, Anzu, and Honda in the subway.

“Took you long enough Yug!”, Jonouchi said.

“Sorry, you know how my grandpa gets at the idea of us going to other card shops.”, Yugi replied.

“Yeah...reminds me of when we went to Duke’s.”, Honda replied, sweat dropping.

“Hopefully Jonouchi doesn’t end up in a dog suit this time.”, Anzu teased.

“Shut up!!! No one’s making a dog out of me this time!”, Jonouchi yelled.

“Better hope we don’t run into Kaiba on the way.”, Honda replied much to Jonouchi’s chagrin.

“If I see Kaiba I’ll wipe the floor with him!!!”, Jonouchi yelled.

“Guys the bus.”, Yugi pointed out as he saw everyone boarding.

They all hastily ran onto the train so they didn’t miss it. They took a sigh of relief as Yugi looked out the window. The buildings passed by like a blur. It always felt weird for him to leave Domino City. He always seemed to be off on some strange supernatural adventure every time but this time it was different. He was going to see friends. A definite nice change of pace.

After they finally got out of the subway they were greeted with a big expansive city.

“How are we supposed to find that tiny card shop in this mess?”, Jonouchi questioned.

“Well, we got there once. We just have to find where we are so we can find it.”, Anzu replied, looking over at the map.

“Maybe we're better off calling Misaki for directions. She has a perfect memory after all.”, Honda suggested.

“Oh, that’s right!”, Anzu gasped, as she brought out her phone and started calling her number.

The phone rang a few times before it was answered.

“Oh, Anzu. Are you guys almost here?”, Misaki asked, though there was an extreme amount of background noise.

“We're having a bit of trouble. We have just arrived outside the station and this place is a bit...big. I was wondering if you could give some directions to the shop?”, Anzu asked.

“Hmm...I guess the city is pretty big. Alright.”, Misaki replied as she started giving them directions.

They were astounded at how accurate it all was. She wasn’t even there but she was leading them perfectly throughout the city. On the way they stopped as they saw a familiar face.

“Gah, Kai?!”, Yugi gasped.

It was indeed the aloof fighter Toshiki Kai. Along with him was a blond haired teen with grey eyes. He wore the same school uniform as Kai. Jonouchi growled as he saw the older teen.

“You guys are here?”, Kai questioned, completely ignoring Jonouchi’s growling.

“Yeah, Aichi invited us to come over remember?”, Anzu replied and Kai simply nodded.

“Man, this is so cool to think we’d meet the King of Games in the flesh!”, the blond said.

“Hehe. I’m not that great, I'm just an average teen like you guys.”, Yugi replied with no hint of irony.

“Cool. Name’s Taishi Miwa. Looks like you guys already know Kai. Though let’s be real who doesn’t?”, Miwa introduced.

“Yeah. My name’s Mutou Yugi. Oh wait...you already know that.”, Yugi replied.

“Yeah...average.”, Kai replied blandly with a hint of sarcasm, rolling his eyes as he remembered Battle City.

“Well...average kid with an ancient magic necklace.”, Yugi replied awkwardly.

“Uh huh...you're just as ‘normal’ as Aichi and Ren.”, Kai replied, which made Yugi sweat drop.

“I’m gonna clean your clock in a duel!”, Jonouchi said to Kai.

“I don’t need another hyper kid like Kamui constantly challenging me to duels.”, Kai replied.

“Grr! I’m no kid!”, Jonouchi replied.

“Really? You sure act like one.”, Kai replied.

“Down boy. You can duel him at the shop.”, Honda said as he put his arm on Jonouchi’s shoulder.

“Hey I’m no dog!!!”, Jonouchi yelled as Honda pushed him along.

Eventually they stopped before a small card shop named ‘Card Capital’. It had a poster on the front and a sliding door. The small shop was completely crowded by people clamoring to get inside.

“Hehe, maybe Misaki can give grandpa some pointers on how to get his shop this busy.”, Yugi commented.

He jumped as some turned around to see him.

“Oh my god, is that the King of Games!”

“He’s here!”

“I thought he was taller?”

“Would he really be in a place like this?”

The door slid open and they saw Misaki on the other side. She had on a white dress shirt and a orange apron with two Cs.

“Are you guys gonna come in or will I have to give your spots to one of these guys?”, Misaki questioned.

“No need. Come on guys!”, Anzu said.

They all walked into the shop. It was just as tiny as they remembered. It was full of posters advertising various card games. It had lots of chairs and tables including two standing tables. The front desk had various card packs and there was a display on the other side with various assortments of rare cards. The shop was packed with various people dueling. It was rather lively for such a small shop.

“Is it always like this?”, Anzu asked.

“Nosy? Yes. Packed? Only when we host shop tournaments here.”, Misaki replied.

“You scoundrel!!!”, they turned their attention to a familiar voice.

They walked over to see Aichi and Kamui. The latter of which shook the former by the collar. Aichi laughed it off raising up his hands in surrender. A redheaded girl with blue eyes was trying to diffuse the situation. She wore a pink top with an orange tie and a blue skirt.

“Kamui calm down.”, the redheaded girl said.

Aichi sweat dropped as the younger boy continued to shake him.

“It’s fine Kamui. I think you’re overreacting.”, Aichi replied.

“Yeah, he just beat Emi in a duel.”, a teen with brown hair and eyes wearing a grey uniform replied.

“He just?”, Kamui questioned.

“Yeah…”, Aichi replied.

None of them seemed to notice them yet.

“You were supposed to let Miss Emi win!”, Kamui shouted.

“I was?!”, Aichi questioned, completely confused.

“I don’t get what the big deal is.”, Honda commented.

“It’s best if you don’t try to understand Kamui’s stupidity. You might catch it.”, Misaki replied casually.

“You say that as if you wanted Aichi to hold back against me.”, Emi replied.

“Well... I!”, Kamui was saying before he was cut off.

“I wanted to duel him at his best. Why would I want him to hold back?”, Emi replied, crossing her arms as Kamui shrinked back.

“It’s fine Emi. Kamui just got a bit overexcited.”, Aichi replied, brushing it off.

“Overexcited is an understatement.”, Miwa chuckled, making Aichi turn his attention to the new arrivals.

Aichi’s eyes brightened up as he saw them.

“Kai! Yugi! Miwa! Jonouchi!”, Aichi said.

“Are we gonna talk about how he called out Kai first…”, Honda commented as he sweat dropped.

The short teen was practically beaming which made Yugi blush. Though, he was at least taller than Yugi though not by much.

“No need to be so excited it’s just us.”, Yugi replied as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s that Yugi guy right? Didn’t you duel him in Battle City?”, Emi questioned.

“Yeah, your looking at the King of Games here!”, Jonouchi said as he gestured to Yugi.

“Woah cool!”, Emi replied.

“Oh uh...this is my little sister Emi.”, Aichi introduced gesturing Emi.

“Sister?!”, the Yugi gang gasped.

Jonouchi bent down to Aichi’s level.

“Don’t tell me she has crazy psychic powers too?”, Jonouchi whispered, causing Aichi to sweat drop.

“Uh...no. At least I don’t think so.”, Aichi replied.

“You don’t think so?”, Jonouchi replied as he pulled back sweat dropping.

“Hopefully it doesn’t run in the family.”, Honda whispered nervously.

“Yeah…”, Anzu replied as she sweat dropped.

“Since your here do you want to duel, Yugi?”, Aichi asked with a light blush.

“Gosh, why are you always so nervous, kid?”, Jonouchi questioned.

“I’d love to Aichi! It’s time to duel!”, Yugi replied.

“He said the thing!”, a black haired teen with v shaped hair and brown eyes with a grey uniform said.

“Oh my god this is awesome!”, the brown haired guy from before gushed.

Yugi chuckled, blushing nervously at all the attention he was getting.

“Their like two anxious peas in a pot.”, Anzu commented.

“Are we going to duel in here. I don’t think the holograms would fit.”, Yugi replied as Aichi blinked.

“Oh...yeah that’s true. We were dueling retro style with the Battle City rules in here since there’s still a lot of people who don’t have duel disks.”, Aichi replied.

“Oh? Retro’s fine.”, Yugi assured.

“Okay.”, Aichi replied as he nodded.

“You guys should use the standing fight table.”, Shin suggested.

“Who wants to stand and fight without the duel disks anymore?”, Misaki questioned, making Shin sulk.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that Kaiba would build portable hologram systems to duel with?!”, Shin questioned.

“I guess we’ll sit?”, Aichi asked.

“Yeah.”, Yugi replied.

“Oh man this will be awesome! It’s like Godzilla vs Kong or Devilman vs Mazinger Z!”, the brown haired teen gushed, embarrassing the two.

“Heh, I could take them.”, the v haired teen proclaimed as he crossed his arms.

“Oh really why don’t we duel tough guy?”, Jonouchi suggested.

“Alright I’ll take you on 3rd place Duelist Kingdom guy!”, the v haired teen replied, causing a tick mark to appear on Jonouchi’s head.

“Hey it’s Katsuya Jonouchi!!! And it was second place! I lost to Yugi!”, Jonouchi corrected.

“Yeah, whatever 3rd place guy my name is Katsumi Morikawa! You will forever remember my name after the beat down your about to endure!”, Morikawa proclaimed, causing many in the shop to sweat drop.

“You're going to wipe the floor with him, Jonouchi. He’s the worst duelist I’ve ever seen.”, Kamui commented.

“As if! I’ll show you Kamui!”, Morikawa growled.

Aichi and Yugi sweat dropped at the conversation around them.

“Are they always like this?”, Yugi questioned.

“Would you believe it’s usually worse?”, Aichi replied, making Yugi chuckle nervously.

“I know that feeling.”, Yugi replied.

Kai and Miwa had seated themselves down at one of the tables. Some duelists had actually lined up to challenge the aloof fighter.

Yugi noticed Yami’s spirit hovering over his shoulder.

“Oh, it’s just a normal duel for fun Yami.”, Yugi said.

“Fun?”, Yami questioned.

“Yeah, it’s not always shadow realm and convoluted plots.”, Yugi replied.

“Oh, hello Yami.”, Aichi greeted waving at the spirit.

“Who’s he waving at?”, Miwa questioned, confused.

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mocoat · 3 years

Text

Ok, first actual post so if anything’s wrong or weird just tell me.

So this is my oc, Ellina Gold-Claw in a thing I’m writing. I’ve been writing random stuff in a google doc to try and keep to her character and I thought it be interesting to post.

Tiny Bosmer, itty bitty baby that will rip your tongue out and feed it to you if you ask if she knows any recipes for people.

She’s not that short tho, about 5 3’. Tall for a Bosmer. Gets it from her literal 7 foot tall Atmoran descent father.

Has bright blue eyes that turn gold when using the Thu’um.

Mums a Bosmer and dads a Nord. Both live in the Imperial city, mom is the head of the Penitus Oculatus and dad is the Archmage of the Arcane University. Writes them letters and maybe she’ll visit on Odah. Dads a softy, moms the badass.

Her dad, Eris Gold-Claw II, is 7 foot 1’ and hella intimidating. Towers over the tallest Altmer (6ft 5’- 6 ft 8 is my kinda canon for them.) and is best friends with Mead. He is a Master in Conjuration, Illusion, and Alteration. Gave Ellina her blue eyes (Martin Septims blue eyes) and her curly hair. His hair is curly, half braided back in a Nord ish style and dirty blond. Doesn’t carry a weapon but when fighting will conjure a daedric sword. Wears his dark blue Archmage robes with the little gold thing at his neck

Her mother, Lilith Gold-Claw, is 5 feet of pure muscle. Is fucken ripped from carrying a ebony bow a head taller than her. Wears ebony chainmail that has a plethora of enchantments to make it lighter and stronger. Literally makes arrows turn the other way when coming at her. Has bright red hair that is kept at shoulder level and is usually tied up. She is a woman of few words and is eternally patient, until she isn’t. If you cross this Bosmer you’re getting your throat ripped out. She quite literally makes people tremble with a look, the rest of the Penitus Oculatus have learned to fear her and also love her. Is very fair but loyal, will beat anyone who calls her husband a dumb Nord who only got his job because of his family name.

The Gold-Claws date back to the Nerevarine. Eresin Gold-Claw. He had a wife and 16 year old daughter, Willow Gold-Claw, the Hero of Kvatch. He was arrested for a bar fight and thrown in prison. Just like Willow would 7 years later. Ever since then the Gold-Claws have been close with the Empire and when Martin Septim died and left Willow alone and pregnant they became even closer. They helped the Meads rise to power and told them their secret. Titus knows who they are and always keeps it in mind that if they wanted to they could have his place as Emperor.

Their family’s are close as a result. Ellina basically grew up in the Imperial Palace, having every guard, maid, cook, prince wrapped around her little finger.

Has wild gold hair, big poofy curls that reach her mid back when dry and go past her butt when wet. Will only put it up when she’s relaxed enough around you. (Kinda backwards but I don’t care.)

Wears a green cloak flecked with gold, reaches the floor when she wears it. Wears Neloths robes, no armor plates. Later on she trades her green cloak for a red and gold one, matching Neloths colors when she goes to the Imperial city for a party

Likes dresses but only when she can. They’re a bit impractical for her line of work. Usually wears her cloak over dragonscale armor. Pretty badass

That’s when she’s traveling, when she’s just sitting around Lakeview she’s just in a shirt and leather pants or a plain dress.

Fucken loves Neloth’s robe that he lent her, and will never take them off now. They’re soft and have P O C K E T S. Yaaas

Once she spends some time around Neloth she starts to fall for him. She liked him from the start, she likes his no shit attitude and his unforgiving bluntness. After she sees him in the midst of a horrible nightmare about his mother using a cruel spell on him and after he wakes he curls up in her arms to cry. She's touched by him letting her comfort her. When he called her dear she just fucken melts. Sure he may be half asleep that first time but who cares.

When he kisses her for the firsts time she’s completely smitten and doesn’t bother trying to deny it to herself.

Also has piercings on her ears, two on the tip of her right ear and just the regulars ones on the other.

Can’t use a bow to save her life, uses Dawnbreaker and she usually has a dragon bone dagger in a sheathe on her lower back.

Used mostly alteration and illusion magic, is decent at healing and can throw a fireball if needed. Prefers her sword. Hates it when people comment on her not using a bow, Windhelm was particularly bad until she threw a guy across the city.

Is a stupidly brilliant artist, draws beautifully but rarely does it. If she finds the time to draw you, you’re special. Neloth keeps her drawing of him on his desk or in his pocket, specially enchanted to not rip or tear.

Likes to sit on Neloths desk and draw him. His expressions are always the best.

Also likes to sit in stupid places. will always choose a table over a chair, had scaled the tower and sat up there when Neloth needed space. Tops of bookshelves until Neloth finds her. Stuff like that

Is always humming, singing, tapping her fingers or feet. Always has a song going through her head.

Odahviing is her best friend, and so are the Companions. (Her and Farkas are close but not romantically.)

Can sing like an angel but can also destroy a tavern if she gets too into it so she doesn’t much.

Loved to hoard books. Until she goes to Moras place

Sucks ass at alchemy but tries her best, Neloth has (or will) banned her from using his alchemy table due to many explosions.

She specializes in Alteration and Illusion magic. Is decent with healing and knows like two fire spells. Hates shock magic, like fucken hates it. Can’t stand to see someone use it

Has three claw marks on her back from Alduin. They travel from the right to the left down her back. She almost died fighting him and if it wasn’t for the Greybeards she would be.

Also was tortured by the Thalmor when she was younger, 10 to be exact, has a lightning shaped scar down her right side that reaches her neck. Can be seen in regular clothing and armor.

Has horrible nightmares, has broken windows in her house in Falkreath from screaming. All of Alduin killing her family, the Companions, or the Greybeards. Neloth makes an entrance later on

Can change her appearance at will, takes concentration though and only lasts a few hours at most.

Hates the Blades with a seething passion, will never kill Paarthurnax. Ever. He’s amazing and he talks nice.

Didn’t take a side in the civil war, thinks Ulfric is hot but a dick. Hates him slightly less than Tullius. Rikke’s fucken funny tho. Hadvar is the best, so sweet. The way he says burns runs through my head constantly.

Is hella allergic to apples and will die if she eats them.

Also her sneezes will send her flying backwards and anything in front of her goes flying as well.

Loves Dunmer food and drink. Sujamma mostly. Flin is alright. Loves canis root tea as well. Is the only person who Neloth knows who actually likes the taste besides him.

True to Skyrim fashion, she loves cheese. Hoards cheese, will kill a room of druager for cheese.

Loves picking on the Thalmor, doesn’t kill them if she doesn’t have to, just likes to slip a Talos amulet into one’s pocket and watch the chaos.

Never calls Neloth anything but his name or when their alone “Dii brit onik fahliil.” Which means, “My beautiful wise elf.” Always makes sure to complement his mind and body.

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palettes-and-prompts · 4 years

Text

Prompts Based on the Song Mr. Capgras Encounters a Secondhand Vanity: Tulpamancer's Prosopagnosia / Pareidolia (As Direct Result of Trauma to Fusiform Gyrus) by Will Wood & The Tapeworms

Dialogue Prompts

1) "Where'd you learn to dance?" "My grandmother. Where'd you learn to steal?" "My grandmother." 2) "They're trying to catch us and if we hadn't been the way we are they would have caught us." "Pieces of shit." "You know what this means right?" "We take them for every fucking thing they own." "Goddamn right we do." 3) "You know, you've got the smile of a devil." "And you've got the eyes of an angel." 4) "Well, you found me." "I did." "Are you going to steal the money?" "I am." "And what about me? Are you going to let me go?" "No. I think I'll steal you as well." "Are you sure? I'm quite worthless." "No, baby, you're priceless. If anything, you're the only thing in this vault worth stealing." "Then what are you waiting for? Steal me." 5) "Why would you want to leave with them?" "You don't understand. Person A and I don't even need words. We just look at each other and know exactly what the other is thinking. It feels like they're the one." "Them? You barely know them!" "I know what I feel! And it's more powerful than anything I've ever felt in my life. Like the piece that's always been missing is just right." 6) "You've got one bullet in that gun. You'd better hit me with it because if you don't I'll snap that pretty neck." "You wouldn't hurt me." "And you wouldn't shoot me. So put the gun down, baby, let's talk about this." 7) "We gotta run, babydoll, it's not safe here." "What about Paris? You said we could go." "Then Paris is where we'll go. But first...how do you feel about dyeing your hair blond?" 8) "You think you can catch me? I'm a demon, you couldn't catch me if you tried." 9) "Did you find Person A?" "Yeah, it took 15 officers to get A into the car because they kept fighting them and complaining that they'd never let themselves be taken alive to prison." "Yeah...you definitely found A alright." 10) "You need to run, I'll hold them off. You escape." "What? No." "You've got more charge, they'll kill you if you don't run. At most I'll get life, maybe less." "I should stay." "Go. Go catch the train and when it's safe-" "I'll come back for you, bust you out." "You're brilliant, love." "I love you." "I love you too. Now go!"

Regular Prompts

1) A is a traveler who goes from city to city stealing from the rich and only taking care of them self. But when they see Person B who's rich and incredibly good looking they decide they're the treasure in the city they want to take for themselves. They get dressed up and go to a ball posing as a rich person and spend the whole night dancing with Person A. None of that slow dancing like everyone else tries with B at the party. They pay the band to play something jazzy and swing dance with them most of the night giving B the time of their life and when the night's over the two haven't said a single word but they're absolutely in love and their hearts are pounding. B's fiance/fiancee is incredibly pissed but B's ready to throw it all away the second A asks if they wanna get out of there. The two then become notorious for traveling from city to city dancing in ball rooms and stealing from the rich all for themselves. When they finally have too much they decide to open a dance academy with a special class for the children who are incredibly good at dancing. They end up adopting some kids and training them to dance and steal. One big wholesome crime family. 2) A and B are two rival thieves competing to be the most well known thief and gain a reputation so others will want to hire them for bigger jobs. When they end up getting stuck in a room the day before the heist they both figure out that the police already know about the heist because the whole thing is a setup to catch A and B. The two are furious and decide to work together to take them for everything they've got before the heist. When they get away with everything and split it 50/50 they decide they're actually a pretty good team and have a few things they could teach each other. They decide to be partners and from that point on only do bigger jobs with people they know and have worked for. (Could be romantic between the two but doesn't have to be.) 3) It's around 1920 and A is a gangster on the run who robs the rich and is known for giving back to the communities in each new city or town they go to. They're part of a group who is known for robbing banks and burning mortgage notes freeing people from their debt. They're constantly on the edge of being caught but no one will come forward as a witness because they see Person A as a person for the people. Person B is a cop who is constantly chasing them. The two never admit it but they enjoy their chases and it gets their blood pumping. Eventually Person A and Person B share a phone call without anyone being able to trace them and Person B admits they admire them and never really wanted to bring them in, they just wanted to see if they could catch them. Person A tells them they're the only one who ever came close. B tells them they're quitting the police force and deciding to work in a bank dealing with numbers since they're better at Math than most people. A's laughs and B asks if they should worry about their money being taken and A admits that B should worry about being stolen since they're the most valuable thing in the place. 4) A is someone who used to have magic but no longer has it anymore trapped in a small cell for years. Person B ends up getting lost and finds them, asking what happened and A takes a chance and tells B about their magic and that if they free them they'll help them achieve their dream. B's dream is to not feel so alone. A agrees to create friends for them, ones who will know everything they need to to be a good friend to them. They also say they'll help B get the person of their dreams to like them. B's happy and helps A get out, only to find that A was trapped because they were dangerous. B expects A to kill them or leave but A decides to take B along with them as their apprentice and teaches them magic telling them they'll wreak havoc across the land. They make potions to turn people into into animals and cast spells to make people just forget how to understand the language they were born speaking to inconvenience everyone. B ends up having a lot of fun and tells A they could do this for the rest of their life. A offers them immortality and a life with them. B's surprised but takes the offer and decides to form a relationship with A (romantic or not) and live with them forever. 5) A is a demon who causes trouble all over town and can't be caught because they've got the ability to disappear. When B gets blamed for all of A's actions they're pissed and decide to figure out A's weaknesses and catch them and make them unable to run invisible. B reads books and decides that the only way to beat A is to become a demon. B ends up becoming a demon in exchange for giving their humanity to Person A. Person A is immediately jailed and B then begins causing trouble all over the place, leading people to believe it's all A. A becomes a demon again through a witch deal and when they're a demon they chase after B to make them pay for everything. The two begin a chase around the world only they can win and soon grow fond of the chase and insist on doing one every few weeks when they can't shake the energy they get. Eventually they become close either romantically or platonically and they respect each other more.

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skaylanphear · 5 years

Text

Cry of the Siren

Summary: Marinette considers herself a different sort of pirate, what with her having morals and a just cause. While Adrien doesn't much fit into the expectations his people have of mermaids such as himself. Backed into a corner by an arranged marriage, he leaves his home behind to brave the open sea, only for a dire injury to leave him stranded on human shores. And so when Marinette finds him and hauls him aboard her ship, he finds himself trapped in a world far removed from his own.

But perhaps the sea carried them together for a reason. Fate, after all, is never clear-cut, nor easily read.

Art by @salty-french-fry (sorry the quality is so bad--tumblr sucks. Hopefully we’ll have a better quality pic on AO3 in a few days)

Read on AO3

Chapter I

"Grandfather, when will mother and father be back?" Standing in the crooked doorway, the young girl frowned, her hands balled into fists around her dirtied skirts. Before her, a small man with salt and pepper hair and a finely-trimmed, pointed beard was observing a map, which was laid upon a thick, wooden table.

Turning his attention to the girl, he smiled. It was a warm smile, if not somewhat restrained, and was invitation enough for the young girl to approach him.

"They'll be back in due time, young Marinette," he assured, reaching out to her as he did. She took his hand when she met him, allowing him to pull her up into his lap. "Your mother is a very important woman and she has much to do."

"But what about Father?"

"Well, your father must help her."

Pooching her lips in a pout, Marinette twirled her finger inside the fastens upon her grandfather's jacket. "I would like to help too."

"And what help could you be?" he asked, smiling wider as he did. "You're only five years old."

"I'm seven!"

"Seven?! Why, I had no idea."

She cast him a rather flat look. "You're lying, grandfather."

"And why would I do that?"

"To distract me."

He chuckled. "You are still much too young to be of help to your mother."

"I can't understand why. I take care of you well enough."

He laughed again. "That you do."

Humming, she seemed to slump a bit in his hold, quite forlorn despite their cheery conversation.

"What does Mother do, when she and Father leave?"

The grandfather seemed to contemplate the question for some moments, seriousness overtaking his countenance. And though there was a certain degree hesitation in the way he pursed his lips, he ultimately gave in despite whatever objections were raised inside his thoughts.

Resituating Marinette upon his lap, he looked her in the eyes and was relieved to see the same steadiness in her expression that her mother had possessed at the same age.

"She has gone out to find that which we have lost," he started. "Our family line is special, do you know that?" Reaching out, he took Marinette's hand and flipped it palm-up, so he could run a gentle finger along the visible veins of her wrist. "And our blood is the key."

"Our blood?"

"A long, long time ago, one of our ancestors came upon a magic jewel. And inside that jewel was the very power that created the entire world. But there was also a spirit, and that spirit was afraid of what would happen if her power fell into the wrong hands. Sensing that our ancestor was of pure heart and mind, she tied herself to her, and through her, all her children and their children's children. All the way down to us. And because this spirit was the most powerful of them all, other spirits soon gathered to her, granting power to our ancestors and any who they deemed worthy. But!" He held up a knowing finger. "Soon, other people started to hear about these powers, and they wanted it for themselves. Afraid of what would happen, our ancestor gathered all the spirits together, swearing to hide them away and protect them."

"A guardian," Marinette replied. "Like you. And Mother."

"Yes. But the jewels—the spirits—couldn't stay hidden forever, and some of them have been lost. By the time the magic box that hid them was passed down to me, only nine of the jewels remained. But they were some of the most powerful, and I knew that if I didn't keep them safe, they'd fall into the wrong hands. So your mother and I—when she was yet younger than you—took a boat all the way from China and around the world, to a place where we could live safely with the jewels.

"But greed exists all over the world, though I tried to fight it. The jewels were stolen, and so now we must find them all, before someone uses them to do great evil."

"So Mother is looking for these jewels?"

"She is. She must."

"How does she know where to look?"

He smiled. "Because of our connection to the most powerful jewel. You can't feel it now, but when you're older, you'll learn how to sense that connection as well."

"I will?"

"Yes. As is your mother's responsibility, and as it is mine—and as it was all our ancestors before us—you must learn to use your abilities to find the jewels, to guard them, and to only use their power when wrongs must be righted and justice served."

"And then I'll be able to go with Mother and Father?"

He smiled. "Yes, I would certainly think so. It's in your blood, Marinette. You are a guardian, and so you must never rest—not until all the miraculouses have been found.

"That, my child, is your destiny."

Gasping, Marinette surged up in bed. Breathing heavily, she blinked against the thick weight yet lingering in the back of her head, the dream—or memory—seeming to shift away as swiftly as it had come. Yet, even as the exact images and words faded, the general purpose remained. Like a brand yet hot upon her flesh, she could feel the echoes of it all up and down her body. All the way down to her bones.

She would not be able to return to sleep, not this night. Blinking a few more times, she allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness before she tossed her blanket aside and threw her legs over the edge of her bed. Clad in only her loose-fitting linen shirt, she toed forward to the table in the center of her quarters, retrieving the breeches hung over the back of a chair before slipping them on. Tucking her shirt clumsily inside the band, she barely bothered to tighten them before stuffing her feet in her worn leather boots and marching out the door.

Accustomed to the layout of the brig and the motion of the sea, she quickly made her way through the dark. Just down the main deck, before rounding the stairs and heading up into the chilly night.

Salty sea air assaulted her full force, but she was so accustomed to it after years at sea that she hardly registered the feeling. Ignoring how the wind tossed her hair about, she headed across the upper deck to the stairs that led up to the forecastle. Once there, she headed to the upper right side, to the thick, wooden banister lining the bow of the brig. Leaning out, she took a deep breath of the salty air and closed her eyes.

The feelings inspired by her dream yet lingered, but they were fading fast. So fast that she feared she would be unable to dissect them. But such a thing was not unheard of, despite it causing her some annoyance. Though she had worn the ladybug earrings for 'years now, her connection to the miraculouses as a whole waned in and out, much as the tide did.

It was her job to make the most of whatever she happened to sense, no matter the time of day or night.

"Captain?" The voice had her popping her eyes open again, turning her head over her shoulder. There stood Alya, her best friend and quartermaster of the brig. "Is everything alright?"

Turning back to the sea, Marinette pursed her lips. "Someone has come across a miraculous. Two, I think, based on the heaviness of my dreams."

Alya came up beside her, crossing her arms over her chest as she frowned. "Then someone has beat us to them."

"We didn't have any leads," Marinette said, doing her best to hide her bitterness. "It was only a matter of time."

"Perhaps they will become known to us, then," Alya reasoned. "Much as Luka did. The miraculouses are drawn to each other, are they not? To you?"

"Drawn in, yes, but to what end we can't know." Sighing, Marinette stepped back from the banister. "We will have to keep a keen eye out—there's no way of knowing whose hands these miraculouses have fallen into, or in what… manner… they may make themselves known to us."

"You think it could be that Hawkmoth has found them?"

Pursing her lips, Marinette turned her attention back to the sea. "Let us hope that is not the case, else we will find ourselves at a grave disadvantage."

One that could prove near impossible to overcome.

oOo

Adrien was bored. Which wasn't really new, per se, but it was certainly tiresome. He knew he had a responsibility—stay inside, primp his appearance, don't get hurt. All these things would guarantee an advantageous mating. He was lucky, after all, to be as blessed with such beauty, much as his mother had been. He'd create beautiful children, no doubt, and his privileged upbringing would make him a doting father and a quiet, obedient partner.

"Blah, blah, blah," Adrien muttered, slowly sinking down in front of his full-length mirror. His qualifications for being a good mate seemed to run continuously through his head these days, but not because he had any interest in thinking about them. Alas, everyone he knew seemed to be reminding him, excited about the fact that he'd reached mating age and would soon be leaving for a new home with his future wife.

He had to be careful not to let his tail get dingy, and keep his fins sparkling at all times. He should wear more jewelry, to draw attention to himself when he was out in public. The more notice he drew, the more potential mates he'd have interested in him at the ceremony.

"Maybe I don't want a mate," he muttered, looking his reflection up and down as he did.

Aside from being male, he did indeed look very much like his mother. Soft blonde hair, bright green eyes. He was stronger than she had been, despite everyone constantly chiding him for being active when he should have been prioritizing a thin, smooth physique. Yet, his father had never stopped him taking up physical activities, so long as he'd remained within their home when he'd practiced them. He had a few more muscles where most didn't as a result, which made him a little less "desirable."

His tail and fins more than made up for that, however. Long and of a vibrant green that matched his eyes, his tail was the longest of any other siren—or long-fin—his age, while his bright, yellow fins shimmered in much the same way golden jewelry did in the water. His tail fins were dual layered and fanned out generously when he bothered to go to the effort, as could the two sets of pelvic fins that flared around his hips and the single set of fibular fins sprouting out beneath them. The bright yellow did fade to dark green at the very edges, but the dual color-scheme only made him "all the prettier."

Truth be told, however, Adrien didn't much care that he was considered the prettiest siren of his generation. Or that his quiet demeanor was one of the main personality traits people talked about.

He didn't hate that he was a siren, but he didn't enjoy it either. Sometimes—like that very evening—he'd find himself staring in the mirror, wanting nothing more than to reach down and rip his pelvic fins right off his body with his claws. Maybe shred his tail fins even. It'd be painful, sure, but if he was marred and scarred, no one would want him. He wouldn't have to worry about how dirty he got or how much jewelry he wore or if he had enough suitors. He could be like the plain sirens that married lower class merrows—short-fins. His mating ceremony wouldn't be a big deal and there wouldn't be any worry about offers being made because he'd be more worried about not having any.

As it was, he'd likely have too many, and he'd ultimately have to pick one of them.

"What are you groaning about now?" It was Plagg who asked. He was some kind of tiny, demon-like creature that claimed to be a "kwami." Adrien didn't know what a kwami was, but supposed they must all be small creatures with disproportionately large heads.

Plagg claimed that he resembled what humans called a "cat," but as Adrien had never seen a cat, he couldn't much relate.

The kwami had appeared from a ring Adrien had found, and that he now wore at all times.

"It's my mating ceremony tomorrow," he explained, sinking fully down onto the ground. Laying atop the cold stone, he twisted his tail around his body and glared side-ways at his own reflection.

"What's that?" Plagg asked, swimming up so he could stare directly down into Adrien's eyes. It was a regular thing, Plagg invading Adrien's space.

Not that he minded.

"I'm eighteen now," he said, turning so he could stare blankly up at the domed ceiling of his bedroom. "It means I'm old enough to be mated. And because my father is so highly regarded, it's important that I pick someone suited to my status."

"Doesn't sound so bad," Plagg decided. "I bet there'll be plenty of girls with fins prettier than yours just dying to get with you."

Adrien cast the black kwami a curious look. "Doubtful. Why would another siren be allowed to mate with me?"

"Is that not how it works?"

Adrien curled his nose. "No. I'll be paraded around like some… pretty trinket. All the female merrows will be swarming just to get a look at me, and I'll have to smile and pretend like I'm enjoying it."

"Wait, so…" Plagg twitched his head to the side thoughtfully, "it doesn't matter that you're a boy?"

"Why would me being a boy have anything to do with it?"

"That's just how humans are," Plagg explained, shrugging his tiny shoulders as he did. "It's their women that have to look pretty and pristine in order to be married off."

Adrien scowled. "Boy or girl doesn't matter. I'm a siren—a long-fin; a soft-fin. It's in the title—I'm soft. And pretty. And delicate. And demure. A fine prize for some warrior female to keep tucked away in her home to care for her eggs and prepare meals and, ugh, just… be bored for the rest of my life." Except when his wife was there, because he'd be expected to serve her and do as she said and submit himself both body and mind.

He didn't want to submit himself. He was…

Afraid.

"Huh, okay. I guess I get it," Plagg replied. "Well, can't you just refuse anyone you don't like?"

"No," Adrien muttered. "My father has already received three letters of purpose from upstanding families whose daughters are interested. They're all in line to be future mertriarchs. One of them might even end up leading the whole clan. It's a great 'honor' that such important merrows would be interested in me. It's because I'm so 'beautiful.' The perfect ornament for someone's home. If I refuse them all, it'll come off like I'm some stuck-up brat, which will diminish my prospects and could even hurt my father's reputation."

"Sounds like you're between a rock and a hard place, kid."

"I don't want to be mated…" What if he ended up with a wife that, while wealthy, was… cruel? He knew it happened, even if it wasn't much talked about. Sirens were expected to mind their mates. His wife would have the legal right to hurt him, even kill him if she so wanted. His life didn't mean anything more than the value of how pretty he could look beside her. And the number of both strong and beautiful babies he could provide.

Some sirens hardly ever left the home because they were constantly incubating eggs. Some weren't allowed to leave even if they weren't.

He'd be expected to consummate their union after he chose a mate. By doing so, he officially became his wife's responsibility. Her property. He'd be marked by her for life, both societally and physically.

Just like his mother had become his father's property.

And if he refused a mate, he'd inevitably end up homeless. When his father died, all his assets would go to the closest living merrow in their family, and Adrien would have nowhere safe to go.

"But you don't have a choice," Plagg determined.

"No, not really," Adrien agreed. Pushing himself up off the ground, he glided up through the water to his pod, which was nestled in the upper corner of the room. Curling up inside of it, he set his focus on the thin windows on the opposite side of the room, which gave him a view of the city beyond. It glittered this late in the evening, aglow with the hazy blue light of blooming crystals.

"You must have some freedom," Plagg said as he swam up beside him. "You found me in that ship wreck."

"Sneaking out in the middle of the night once every few weeks isn't freedom."

"True…"

Popping his lips, Adrien created a small bubble, which he then used his finger to carefully push up toward the top lip of his pod. The pod itself curled around and above him, creating a soft sort of indent where he'd been gathering bubbles for some time. While archaic in modern day, sirens had once created attractive bubble nests in order to draw in mates. Adrien was expected to be good at the skill despite its uselessness, and so he'd been creating a patch of bubbles all his own for about a weak.

Well, longer than that, really, but every few days he got frustrated at the sight and destroyed them all.

"You're going out later tonight, right?" Plagg asked.

"I want to." It could be the last night he'd ever get to leave the city. His father was oftentimes away on "business," and so it was his assistant Nathalie—another short-finned merrow—that was tasked with keeping watch over him. But merrows weren't exactly known for their child rearing abilities. So long as Adrien minded his business, she didn't much care what he was doing. Which made it easy to sneak out once he'd pretended to go to bed.

His father was home as of that night, which made the whole ordeal riskier. Yet, given the circumstances, it seemed a risk worth taking.

Just a little longer and he'd head out. It'd be strange seeing a siren out alone this late at night, so he had to wait until most of the mer-folk in the nearby homes had retired to bed. But once out of the house, it didn't take him long to reach the outskirts of the city. His father being a recluse that didn't like to be near too many others had some advantages in that respect.

"Do you… plan on taking Pollen and I to the surface?" Plagg asked.

Adrien frowned. "I told you, I've never been to the surface."

"But if you're mated, you might never get the chance again."

A reminder that Adrien didn't appreciate. He hadn't known Plagg long—he'd only found the ring that housed the kwami about a month beforehand—but he'd become somewhat protective of his secret treasure. He didn't want to give up his miraculous, even if it wasn't really meant for him to have.

"Listen, kid, I don't mind being down here," Plagg continued. "Aside from the fact that you don't have cheese, I can't really complain. But fact is, we don't belong down here. We weren't created for mer-folk."

"I know…"

"I like you, Adrien, and it's nice not having to worry about… all the things I'm supposed to be worrying about. But if I don't get back to the surface, the whole of the human world could be turned upside-down."

Adrien managed a small grin. "We'd never know down here."

"While I appreciate that sentiment, my partner would have a different take on the matter."

"Your partner, huh? Who's that?"

"Don't change the subject."

Adrien sighed. "I'll try, I guess. But… like I said, I've never been to the surface. We're not supposed to. It's dangerous."

"I didn't think you were the type that'd balk at the idea of danger."

Adrien cast him a flat look, before deciding they'd waited long enough. "C'mon," he said, beckoning to the little kwami as he swam toward the top of his bedroom. "Chloe won't wait forever."

It wasn't exactly hard to sneak out of his room. It was expected that he'd never do such a thing, so it wasn't as though he'd ever been locked in. All he had to do was shift the cover to his sunning window aside—a large, circular opening that usually had a smooth slab of stone fitted inside it—and swim out.

It took him less than a minute to do so, his tail curling close to his body as he slid the stone back into place. He wanted to keep as low a profile as possible, knowing his bright colors could catch even the dim light of the blooming crystals and give him away.

Securing the stone in place, he was soon slinking down the back side of his father's multi-teared mansion, it's many rounded, stone roofs providing him adequate cover as he ducked in and out of the shadows. A few of the windows were aglow with crystals—namely his father's study—and so he actively avoided swimming nearer to those.

Soon enough, he was headed along the ocean floor just beyond the mansion. As quickly as he could, he swam into the garden of colorful anemones, which would hopefully shield his shimmering tail from anyone watching.

It was once he was through the garden and on the other side that he felt a bit of relief. His father truly did live right on the outside of the city. All he had to do was swim up the steep side of a shadowed cliff and he'd be out of the gorge where the city was generally hidden from anyone that might bother coming this deep down into the waves. At the very top of the cliff was a stretching shield of coral, which he carefully maneuvered his way through before finally coming up and out "into the open," so to speak.

"Took you long enough!" Chloe hissed as soon as he shimmied his way into sight, checking only quickly to make sure he hadn't scratched himself on the sharp coral.

She was laying down upon some bare sand between reefs, her blue eyes glaring as Adrien came to hover above her. Much the same as him, she was a siren. A beautiful siren, much as he was. Long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, her frame thin and lithe as was to be expected. Her shimmering yellow tail was nearly as long as his own, though she possessed only one set of pelvic fins. They were yellow, to match her tail, while her fibular fins started out yellow and faded to a deep, dark blue at their ends. To match her tail, which shimmered with hints of green and yellow despite its dark blue hue.

"I'm here at our regular time," Adrien said calmly, not bothered by Chloe's shortness of attitude. They'd grown up together, being from the same social class. She was the daughter of the current clan leader.

"Always making me wait," Chloe continued, puffing the sand into a cloud as she temperamentally pushed herself up into the water beside him. "You're lucky we've been friends for so long, else I'd be more offended."

"I suppose you're right," he agreed, beginning to swim further away from the cliff edge, Chloe soon falling in beside him.

"Good evening, Adrien." It was another kwami that greeted him, this one with blue eyes, a bright yellow body, and black stripes all over. She also possessed a scarf of yellow fur around her neck and two black antennae, which reminded Adrien of some of the fish that swam around at the bottom of the gorge.

"Hello, Pollen," Adrien replied, happy to throw the tiny kwami a smile. Pollen formed from the comb miraculous Adrien had found alongside his ring. Supposedly, the comb resembled a "bee," which was a land creature of some kind. But much like cats, Adrien had never seen a bee before and so couldn't verify.

She belonged to Chloe for the time being, as she'd claimed the comb when they'd come across it while investigating a ship wreck the month prior.

"Please don't tell me we're going too far out," Chloe was soon complaining. "I'm already tired and you should be getting your beauty sleep. You can't look all puffy tomorrow for your mating ceremony."

Adrien shrugged. "I don't really care about that. Besides, we have to go somewhat far. We have to get Plagg and Pollen to the surface."

A statement that had Chloe coming to an abrupt stop.

"What?" she asked, her expression having dropped into unease.

"Once I'm mated, we don't know what could happen," Adrien reasoned, turning back to her as he did. "I might never be allowed out again. We have to get them to the surface while we can."

"Or we could just not do that," Chloe rebuked smartly.

Adrien cast her a disapproving frown.

"Clearly the humans aren't looking for them. Why does it matter?"

"They don't belong here, Chlo."

"The surface is dangerous. What if there are humans up there? Or a ship? Do you know what humans do to mermaids like us? They'll catch us and string us up for our fins."

Adrien rolled his eyes. "That's all just children's stories to scare us."

"How do you know?" she asked, following him as he continued on despite her protests. "You've never been there. You've never seen it. There's a reason no one is allowed to go to the surface. We're mermaids—we don't have any reason to go up there."

"I'd like to see it," Adrien admitted. "It'd even be interesting if we were able to spot a human or two."

"Adrien!"

"I'm just kidding. Now, come on."

Despite her misgivings, Chloe continued, the two of them swimming on for some time. Until they were far enough away that even when they swam upward, into the expanse of open ocean, no one would be able to see them from the city.

"I don't know about this," Chloe said as they came to a slow stop, their attention trained up toward the surface. Truth be told, they really weren't all that far away. Perhaps two-thousand feet or so. Mermaids required sunlight to live, just as humans did, even if it was considerably less. Their city had to be within decent range of the surface as a result, even if it was well-hidden beneath a crown of coral.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Adrien reasoned. "Just look—no ships, hardly any fish." Just the vague shimmer of the moon far, far above their heads.

"But what if a ship is nearby?" she asked, sinking down into the sand as she did. Her yellow tail curled protectively around her body, giving away the height of her anxiety. "How fast do they go? What if we can't get away?"

Releasing a light sigh, Adrien sank down beside her, curling his tail around her own comfortingly. "You don't have to go if you don't want. I'll take the miraculouses up to the surface myself."

Curling her nose, she cast him a rather dubious look. "Alone? Why in the world would that be better? Or safer?"

He shrugged. "I didn't say it would be, but…" Looking up, he turned his attention to the surface again. "Who knows what could happen after tomorrow. I don't know, I guess… I guess I want to see it."

"See what?"

"Just… anything, really. The sky, the moon. The sun. I may never get the chance to see anything again after tomorrow."

Chloe frowned. "Do you really think your mate will be that bad?"

"Perhaps. I don't want to be what they think I should be. I just want…"

He couldn't articulate exactly what he was feeling, but Chloe seemed to understand nonetheless. Even if she wasn't dreading her future as much as he was, she knew his anxiety. Many other sirens did.

"You've got to have some good prospects," she reasoned. "They can't all be bad."

"There are three already trying to get ahead with my father," Adrien replied. "They've sent letters, and even gifts." He almost laughed. "And not a single one of them bothered to get in contact with me directly."

"Who were they?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask." It wouldn't make a difference anyway.

"I bet one of them was the Rossi family," Chloe said flatly. "Lila's been all over you for months. I get so tired of her hanging around every time we try to go anywhere."

Adrien hummed in agreement.

Lila Rossi was a high class warrior merrow. Her parents were well-respected border commanders and close friends with Chloe's father. She was popular, strong, and was already well-respected among the guard despite her young age.

Personally, Adrien didn't much like her. She was pushy and altogether too forward, and didn't think too highly of sirens in general, based on her attitude toward others outside of him.

"There'll be someone better," Chloe decided firmly. "You'll see. It'll all come together in the end." Taking a huffing breath, she apparently settled her nerves before reaching out and taking Adrien's arm. Together, they started to head upward, remaining close as they kept their focus on the glaring light above.

It was only when the ripples upon the surface began to come clearly into view that the two of them slowed, Chloe once again becoming uneasy as Adrien peered critically through the water, looking for any possible threat. Outside of the occasional wandering fish, however, there was little worth taking note of.

"C'mon," Adrien encouraged quietly. "We're almost there."

Nodding, Chloe stuck right beside him as they closed the remaining distance, Adrien hovering only a moment just below the surface before clenching his fists and thrusting himself up out of the water.

The night air was shocking. Cold and brisk, it was somehow sharper than breathing air through the water. His gills fanned as he took a deep breath, unaccustomed to such dryness. Though it was dark, the glare of the moon was sharp and intense, both Adrien and Chloe shying away as they blinked, attempting to adjust.

For a moment, Adrien was certain his throat was burning, his mouth feeling all too dry. He nearly dove back under. But the longer he remained above the surface, the easier it became. Until he was able to blink away the harsh light, his eyes adapting as he reached up and pushed his hair out of the way.

"What are those?" Chloe asked, Adrien following her gaze upward to the night sky.

It was steady and smooth, the moon round and bright against the blackness of the heavens. And all around it, tiny lights sparkled, twisting and twirling in unending patterns that Adrien couldn't even begin to follow.

"They're stars," he eventually realized, a grin spreading across his lips in the same moment. "Like in the old stories."

"They're so much smaller than I'd always imagined."

"They're beautiful."

For some moments, they simply floated, taking in the sky they'd never seen and likely never would again. Until, finally, Adrien's gaze fell to the horizon.

"I don't see any land," he eventually said.

"We're too far away," Plagg explained, having settled onto Adrien's shoulder.

"Well, how much further is it?" Chloe asked shortly.

Plagg threw her a glare. "How would I know?"

She growled.

"Which direction do we go?" Adrien found himself asking, though the question was more for himself than the others. Twisting in place, he tried to get some kind of idea, but the ocean stretched on for miles in every direction.

"What's that?" It was Pollen who asked, the other three looking ahead at where she was pointing her tiny paw.

Squinting, Adrien could just barely see it. A shadowed silhouette bobbing up and down upon the waves.

"Adrien." Clinging to him, Chloe crowded close. "That's a ship. We should leave. Now."

"It's so far away we can barely see it," he reasoned, attempted to squirm a bit out of her hold. "Besides, a ship means we can find land. It had to have come from somewhere, or is going somewhere, right? If we follow it, maybe—"

"Follow it?" Chloe baulked. "Adrien, what are you thinking?!"

"We don't have to get close. Besides, humans have poor eyesight at night. They'll never see us." He was trying to pull away, Chloe's well-sharpened claws digging more deeply into his arm as a result. "C'mon, before we lose sight of it."

"Adrien, no!" Chloe begged. "Let's just go back!"

"We have to get Plagg and Pollen to shore." Finally yanking his arm from her hold, he swam a bit in the direction of the ship. "It'll be alright."

Turning, he tried to cast Chloe a reassuring smile, but she just shook her head.

"I promise it'll be okay, Chlo." He held out his hand to her. "You'll see."

For a moment, it looked like she might reach out, but her nerves inevitably got the better of her. Shaking her head, she pushed back in the water before diving back under, taking the bee comb with her.

"Chloe!" Adrien called, ducking back under as well. But she was already swimming down the way they'd come, her yellow tail dimming as the shadows closed in around her.

For a moment, Adrien hung in the water, uncertain what to do. He watched Chloe until she disappeared, before turning to look in the direction of the ship.

If he didn't follow it then, he could lose track of it. And then he'd never find land.

Gritting his teeth in resolve, he burst back up above the water, looking again to the horizon where he could see the shadow drifting further away. Satisfied he knew what direction he needed to head in, he slipped back beneath the surface and took off through the water.

It was a long, strenuous journey from then on. Not wanting to lose track of the ship, he swam as fast and hard as he could, occasionally vaulting up out of the water and back in so he could make sure the ship was still there. The hours wore on, the ship only seeming to grow minutely closer all the while. He was beginning to feel a bit tired, but was thankful he'd always retained an active lifestyle.

It was probably a good thing Chloe hadn't come—she wouldn't have been able to keep up.

It was well into his third hour of travel that the sky to his right began to lighten. Which unnerved him slightly, but didn't deter him. And he grew only more determined when he finally spotted a strip of what must have been shore bulging up out of the water.

The ship was closer now—so close that he could see spikes protruding up out of it, creating "T" shapes with what looked like giant fins hanging down to catch the wind.

Supposing that was quite close enough, he monitored his speed, keeping an eye on both the ship and the land as it grew nearer.

Soon, he could see that the land was, in fact, a striking line of cliffs, water splashing violently at their bases. The ship seemed to be headed directly for them, which Adrien thought rather strange. The ship couldn't reasonably go through the cliffs, could it? Maybe it could fly over them?

Curious despite the danger, he decided to swim yet closer. Soon enough, the ship was gliding through alcove and disappearing behind a rocky outcropping. Which didn't help Adrien any. He couldn't just leave Plagg close to the shore—he had to get him to shore. Certainly the ship was somehow accessing the land, but he couldn't know how if he couldn't see it.

Careful as he approached, he kept himself mostly below the water as he swam, only keeping his head up enough to be able to see over the water's surface.

Soon enough, he was approaching the alcove, his heart beating faster as the looming shadows stretched out to meet him. The sky was bright with the early morning now, the sun warming every surface it touched. It was almost so bright it was painful, but Adrien kept going nonetheless.

Careful to be as quiet as possible, he slowly swam around the rocks into the alcove, only to come to a startled stop once he was around the bend.

The ship was right there in front of him. It'd halted in the water, sheltered beneath the cliffs like a fish hiding at the base of some seaweed. And for a moment, Adrien's nerves nearly got the better of him. He almost turned tail and swam away as fast as he could.

But his curiosity proved to be more powerful, causing him to gape some when activity upon the ship became visible. He could hear voices—human voices—and see their silhouettes moving about upon the ship. There weren't many of them.

Maybe, if he could reach the ship, he could leave his ring on it. That was kind of like reaching the shore, right? There had to be a place he could safely stash it.

Ducking down beneath the water, he approached the ship from underneath, which seemed to make it appear all the larger. It was a bulging, dirty thing, covered in barnacles and other sharp bits that he'd have to steer clear of. He wasn't sure what it was made from—some brown material that was clearly discolored. He swam up and down the length of it, and then completely around it (at a distance, of course), hoping he'd spot some place to leave the ring. But there was nowhere safe. If he simply left it in a batch of barnacles, the humans would never find it. And then it'd likely be lost at sea again.

Gathering his courage, Adrien swam a little closer to the surface, until he could just vaguely see through the water to the inclining sides of the ship above.

Just as something came crashing down into the water on top of him.

Surging back in surprise, Adrien shook himself, realizing quite quickly that an entire barrel of discarded fish remains had just been dumped on top of him. Picking off the pieces that had stuck, he curled his lip and swam a bit further down the length of the ship.

It was only when he stopped again that he realized the voices upon the ship had grown louder.

Peering up through the water, he felt his skin grow cold at the sight of one of the humans jogging down the length of the ship, pointing down at the water—at him—as they did.

He should leave. He knew he should.

What was the humans saying, he wondered.

Despite every warning sign, Adrien slowly turned his head on its side, just enough that he could raise one ear above the surface.

"Oh my god, look at that…" The human was speaking. And, oddly enough, Adrien could understand him. They spoke the same language? There seemed to be a slight accent difference, but it was still easy for him to catch every word. "I can't believe I'm seeing this."

Supposing there was no reason to pretend as though he hadn't been seen, Adrien turned his head until his eyes were above the surface again. He then quickly narrowed them into a glare as he stared up at the human.

"Hey, there," the human continued, waving weakly at him as he did.

It was indeed a human male. He had short, brown hair, and browned skin. Though Adrien couldn't be sure, he decided that whatever was covering the human from the neck down had to be clothing of some kind. Like Chloe's thin shawls, though much heavier and of sturdier make. He wore a blue tunic from the throat down with white sleeves. That was the extent of what Adrien could see, as the ship's edge got in the way of the rest.

"Hey, did you follow us here?" the human asked. Adrien refused to answer, instead remaining exactly where he was. "It's okay, I won't hurt you."

Adrien did not believe him.

Reaching down, the man rubbed his fingers together, as if trying to beckon Adrien closer as one would a pet fish. "Come here, Catfish. It's okay."

"What the hell are you doing, Nino?" Another voice came up behind the first human, Adrien slinking back a bit as a result.

"Look, Alya! Look!" The first human was pointing down at him again, clearly excited as his comrade came up beside him.

She was far more intimidating than the man in blue. She glared down at Adrien through one amber eye, the other covered in a patch. Her long dreadlocks were pulled back in a high ponytail, the loose ends fading from dark brown to white at their tips. She was wearing some kind of orange colored vest with white linen underneath. A single orange necklace hung around her neck, shaped like a hollowed bubble with a pointed tip.

"Well, I'll be damned," she said, leaning forward over the edge of the ship in order to get a better look at him.

"It must have followed us in here," the first human—Nino—explained. "It has to be a real mermaid, right? Look at its ears!" He held his hands out from either side of his head in a pointed fashion, as if mimicking the shape of Adrien's long, pointed ears. "Man, what Luka wouldn't give to see this."

The other human—Alya—grinned, but it wasn't the sort of grin Adrien liked all that well.

"We should catch it," she decided a second later.

Adrien darted even further back.

"Don't scare it, Alya!" Nino said sharply, appearing quite disheartened as he looked back at Adrien. "We're not going to catch you," he guaranteed. "Don't listen to her—she's out of her mind."

"Hey!"

"We promise not to hurt you if you come here." Once again, he held his hand down as if beckoning to some sort of daft animal.

Not appreciating the gesture, nor the other human's attitude—and confident that he could get away from them at his distance—Adrien dared raise his head fully up out of the water, a disapproving frown pulling at his lips as he eyed them.

Nino gaped. "Wow…"

"Hey, Cap! Come look at this!" Alya had turned, seemingly calling to another on board. The thought of even more humans made Adrien nervous, and he nearly dove back down into the water and swam away. But before he could, another appeared at the edge of the ship.

The sight of her had Adrien freezing, his own lips parting in wonder.

She wasn't a large, intimidating woman. Not in stature anyway. Yet she seemed to exude confidence nonetheless. She wore a long, red coat, the front of it decorated with all sorts of ties and buttons.

Her own gaze caught Adrien's, her vibrant blue eyes widening as her red-tinted lips parted in much the same way his had. Reaching up, she removed the strange, triangle-shaped hat that was sitting on her head, instead holding it against her chest as she watched him.

She had lovely, long hair—black, but sparkling with purple and blue in the morning sunlight. It contrasted with her pale complexion, seeming to bring out the color of her eyes all the more.

Around those very eyes appeared to be a mask of some sort. Adrien couldn't tell if it was a natural feature or not, the red that stretched from one side of her face to the other, black spots interspersed throughout.

He also found that he didn't much care one way or another.

Rather, he decided that she was absolutely beautiful.

"It's a mermaid," Nino said again, sounding all the more excited.

"That's a siren," the red woman corrected, her voice clear in the same way the air had been when he'd first breached the water. "You can tell by his ears. They're fanned, like fins."

"Aren't they all the same?" Alya asked.

"Sirens are far rarer than the other variety," the red woman corrected. Setting her hat down on the edge of the ship, her gaze turned curious. "What are you doing so far from home, pretty one? It'd dangerous, being this close to shore."

Clamping his mouth shut, Adrien found himself quite caught up in her gaze. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, his skin tingling from his fingers down through the tip of his tail. Despite himself, he drifted a bit closer, if only to get a better look at her.

"Don't come closer," she warned. "You shouldn't be curious about humans. Go home. You'll only get hurt if you stay here."

"Or worse," Alya tacked on.

But he didn't want to leave.

The red woman—apparently dissatisfied with his reaction—released a short sigh, before she pulled something from her hip. It was some kind of red, spotted circle. Not that Adrien got a very good look at it. A moment later, it was snapping out into the water in front of him, the splash startling him backwards.

"I could catch you in seconds," the red woman lectured. "Now get out of here!"

She snapped the circle back out again, Adrien finally overcoming his awe enough to dive into the water. Darting downward, he turned to look up just as the weapon was retracting. For only a split second, he considered staying, but then common sense finally got the better of him.

She'd said she could catch him, which was warning enough. Despite how his heart dropped down into his stomach, he lingered only a second longer before he turned tail and glided deeper into the water, swimming back the way he'd come.

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

So there’s Chapter 1. It’s posted to AO3 as well (skaylanphear) and will be updating first on my Patreon (skadako).

Hope you guys enjoyed the first installment!

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ladybug #ml #skadako #mlb #pirate AU #mermaid AU #adrien!mermaid #marinette!pirate #slow burn #Cry of the Siren #chapter 1 #my fics #fics

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jordswriteswords · 5 years

Text

I Don't Believe In Magic

A continuation of my Clextober universe. I Don't Believe in Magic is set in the College time of Clexa. I'm always accepting more prompts!

---

Lexa drew circles in her notebook with her right hand while her left supported her lazy head. She sighed and flipped the page as the lecturer continued to drone on about mythology. She didn't even know why she took this class. It was a joke in one aspect - listening to humans blather on about mythical beings and how eerie and strange they appeared in comparison to their human counterparts - but another part of her longed to find some similarities between herself and the humans.

She easily found one - they were terrified of one another.

Lexa just didn't understand why.

Her father had scolded her time and time again for being careless with her magic, giving herself away to humans. "You can only rewind someone's memories so often before you run into trouble, Alexandria."

But, Lexa always had a soft spot for humans - always interested in the way they perceived the world and knew that deep down they were more alike than they knew. So, denounced her family tradition of attending the top wizarding school in the world, and accepted the soccer scholarship offered to her by Arkadia University.

***

Clarke Griffin was on a mission. Her last name carried the power of a world-saving doctor. Unfortunately, it also carried the expectations. But Clarke was always known to defy expectations.

That's why she wanted to go above and beyond her mother's medical degree, and double major in both medicine and art.

It was her greatest ambition.

It was also her stupidest idea.

Because, at eight in the morning, when Clarke could have been sleeping before her three hour Animal Kingdom lab, she was stuck in this stupid Mythology 101 class, learning about creatures that never existed and paintings that didn't capture anything of substance.

She wondered how high some of these painters were when they painted these things. Because scientifically speaking, there was no way a woman could take an inanimate object, like a broom, and create enough velocity and speed to have it fly.

Clarke was a woman of science. She had seen her father beat death twice, all due to the medical advancements of man. Sure, hundreds of years ago it would have been seen as witchcraft, but she was positive that the only magical beings were the things that weren't researched.

She sighed, rubbed her eyes as the sigh turned into a yawn, and flipped the page of her agenda, scheduling her free time into her already packed schedule.

***

"Excuse me, I understand that as a society, we've always been a bit spooked by the unknown, but it just seems like the entire concept of witches were solely based on repressing women. I mean, Medusa only turned the men that raped her into stone, but she's spoken of like a villain. Women who showed any sort of forward thinking in Salem were hunted down for witchcraft. I think that maybe we should be discussing the mental health of the accusers than the 'magical powers' of the accused."

Lexa's ears perked up at the husky voice in the midst of destroying the lecturers current argument. Not that she knew what it was, zoning out into a state of semi-consciousness as the monotonous voice of the lecturer carried on.

She looked across the room, noting the long blonde hair and dark blue leather jacket sitting in the front row. She felt her heart do a funny thing then - it beat with a staccato rhythm, every pound precise as she gazed at the girl.

The beating of her heart was so loud that the rest of the argument was lost to the sharp beat in her ears.

Before she could snap her fingers to bring herself closer, the lecturer had dismissed the class, and the blonde was the first one out of her seat.

Lexa grumbled, wishing that at this moment she could snap her fingers to catch up to the blonde. Instead, she had to hustle down the stairs from the back of the class, her shoulder bag flopping against her bare leg.

She caught her just as she had stepped out of the building. "Hey!" Lexa said.

The blonde didn't turn around. Lexa ran past her and came to a stop just in front, doubled over and gasping for breath. She held her hand up to the blonde to ask her to wait.

"I really don't have time for this," Clarke sighed.

"I just -," Lexa gasped. "I wanted to - whoo," she panted, "I wanted to tell you that I liked what you said back there."

Clarke quirked a brow.

"About witch hunting."

"Oh," Clarke laughed. She let her eyes trail up and down Lexa's lithe figure, noting the purple soccer shirt she wore and the short soccer shorts that left little to the imagination. "No one really believes in that stuff anyway. Witches? Goblins? It's just stuff parents tell their kids to behave."

"Maybe we could discuss that? Over coffee?" Lexa asked.

Clarke's grip tightened on her bookbag. "Thanks, but I don't believe in magic. It was nice meeting you…" she trailed off, waiting for the brunette to say her name.

"Lexa, and you will."

"Lexa," Clarke repeated. "It was nice meeting you. See you next week." And with that, the blonde was off.

"Is that the face of a girl who has been sorely rejected?" The dark figure asked as it stepped out of the shadows of the building.

"I'd ask you how much you heard, but I know you're a lurker," Lexa replied, not bothering to look over her shoulder and acknowledge her sister.

Anya laughed and slapped her sister on the back. "I'm not a lurker, I just happened to leave class at the same time. She's cute."

"She's human," Lexa said.

"And yet, that's never bothered you."

"Of course not," Lexa said with a cheeky smirk.

***

"Oh my God," Raven gasped.

Clarke looked up from her notes for a second to check that her friend was okay.

"Who is that hottie? How have I never seen her before?"

Clarke glanced over her shoulder, much to Raven's protest. "Don't look! Oh my God, you make it so obvious!"

The only person Clarke saw was the long brown hair of the soccer player in her class - Lexa.

"Lexa?" She asked her best friend. "The brunette?"

"Screw the brunette, I mean the blonde sitting with her!" Raven said. "She's hot."

"They're both hot," Clarke commented offhandedly. "They're probably together."

Almost as if being summoned, Lexa and her companion stood from their table and walked towards Clarke and Raven.

"Be natural, but they're headed this way," Raven said. She adjusted her posture to sit up taller, pushing her chest out.

"Totally natural," Clarke teased. She bowed her head just slightly, pretending to be deep into her work. For some ungodly reason, the idea that Lexa was walking towards her was unsettling.

"Hey Clarke," Lexa said, stopping by the table. She adjusted the strap of her satchel on her shoulder. She held a regal posture, swagger and confidence seeping from her core. "What's up?"

Clarke looked at her, stunned by the intensity of the green eyes - ethereal in their beauty. She hadn't seen a pair of eyes quite that colour - as though it was constantly shifting when she finally found the name to match the shade. They were light at first, but the longer Clarke stared, the darker they appeared.

"Oh, hey, um…" She was so taken aback by the girl's eyes that she fumbled over her name.

"Lexa," Lexa answered for her. The quirk of her lips disappeared at the rejection. Her eyes shifted to a sharp green before they dropped to her shoes. Her cheeks turned red in embarrassment. "I um," she shook her head. "Nevermind."

Anya cleared her throat.

Embarrassed that the girl she hadn't stopped thinking about could barely remember her, Lexa swung her bag wildly to knock the pile of books in front of Raven to the floor and hustled off, her cheeks hot with embarrassment.

"Hey!" Raven yelled after her.

Lexa got all the way to the parking lot before the sound of the raspy voice she was enamored with got her to slow down.

"Hey!" Clarke yelled. "Lexa!"

Lexa stopped walking, pulling in a deep breath into her chest. Lexa Woods was better than some silly embarrassment. She turned, cocky smile on her lips and ready to greet Clarke again, but anything she had been planning disappeared with a sharp pang in her cheek and a hollow thud only she could hear.

She fell back onto her butt, her outstretched arms the only thing stopping her from hitting her head.

"You know, you're such a dick. Bullying someone with a disability isn't going to make me want to be your friend! You may be the school sweetheart because you can kick a ball, but Raven is so much more than you'll ever be."

Lexa gaped at the blonde, confused by her words and impressed by the ache in her jaw.

"Just leave me alone, and don't you ever put your hands on Raven or her things ever again!" She turned and stormed away before Lexa could even get a word in.

***

"You're a genius!" Anya sighed, throwing her bag onto the counter of her shared apartment with Lexa.

"Yay," Lexa said sarcastically.

Anya pouted down at her sister and flopped down onto the couch beside her. She flicked her wrist and an ice bag hit Lexa in the face.

"Ouch," Lexa whined. She adjusted it to press against the blossoming bruise she had received from Clarke.

"Raven's human, but the science she used to fuse her spine and create that brace to allow her to walk is practically magic. She's so open minded. Not to mention, beautiful. She and I are going out tomorrow."

Lexa sighed and smiled at her sister. "I'm happy for you."

"I'm sorry Blondie KO'd you. I cleared it all up and told her that you were just incredibly clumsy."

Lexa shrugged.

***

"Hey," Lexa said to the blonde as she entered her Mythology class. She wanted to clear the air and apologize to Raven. "Listen, about yesterday - I didn't -"

"I know," Clarke sighed. "Raven already yelled at me. I'm a little overprotective. Sorry about the left hook."

Lexa smiled down at the girl, and shifted her satchel. "I think it's hot," she said. Her eyes widened, and she looked away, her cheeks dusting pink at her slip.

"Well " Clarke said, pulling at the edge of her textbook, "I'm really sorry. I thought you did it on purpose."

"I did," Lexa answered, nodding at the blonde, "but not for the reasons you think."

Clarke quirked a brow.

"My sister wanted to meet Raven. I had promised to introduce her, but you couldn't remember my name and I was embarrassed. But, I never break a promise, so," Lexa shrugged one shoulder.

Clarke looked down at her text. "Yeah," she breathed.

The lecturer walked in at that moment, and Lexa sent one last look at the girl before heading up the auditorium steps to her seat.

She spent the entire class picturing blonde hair and blue eyes.

***

"Hey, Lexa?" Clarke called out to her as they exited the building. It was pouring rain, most students huddling under the awning as they prepared to race to their next class.

Lexa turned and smiled at the blonde. Clarke was struck again by her beauty. "What a miserable day," she said. "It'd be a good day for a warm drink."

Lexa might have had a witty response if she weren't so preoccupied of the way the little clouds of condensation curled out of Clarke's lips when she spoke.

Clarke chuckled. "About that coffee," she said, hands tightening on her textbooks. " I have eighteen minutes until I have to get to my next class. Would you like to join me?"

Lexa smiled and Clarke blinked rapidly, swearing she saw the green of her eyes shift to a lighter shade.

"Do you feel that?" She asked Clarke.

"Feel what?" Clarke asked, unable to pull her gaze from the brunette even as the girl stepped out into the rain. She was thoroughly soaked when she turned back to Clarke.

Her smile was blinding in it's intensity. "The magic in the air."

"I don't believe in magic," Clarke called, cheeky smile on her lips.

Lexa ran back up the steps next to her and produced an umbrella seemingly out of nowhere with her clothes remarkably dry.

"You will."

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seductresses-temple · 5 years

Text

Every Little Thing He Does is Magic

This rambly little ficlet is dedicated to the most awesome Fandom Mom ever @dewitty1 ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜 I know it’s a few days late but HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! I hope you like this little bit of drarry that tumbled out of my mind and typed itself up on my phone. Many hugs to you!!!

Every Little Thing He Does is Magic

Pairing: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter

Rating: Teen? I suck at rating anything that isn’t Mature of Explicit lol

Warnings: N/A

Dating Post-War had been difficult. More difficult, anyhow, than Harry had anticipated. He thought things would have been better once Voldemort was gone. He wasn’t on the run anymore. He didn’t have the looming threat of someone/thing trying to kill him on an annual basis -for the most part. There were still a few stragglers left over from Voldemort’s reign of terror, somehow evading capture from the Auror’s. Even then, things in Harry’s life had calmed down considerably. Despite attending trials, helping to repair a very damaged Hogwarts, and eventually going back for the optional 8th year; Harry’s life had gained so sort of normalcy yet his love life was in shambles.

From living under the Dursley’s strict, narrow-minded view of what was normal, to finding out he was a wizard, and then finding out he was the Chosen One; Harry never really had an opportunity to explore his sexuality like the average teen. He had been with Ginny and for a long time that had felt right, great even, until after the war.

Suddenly nothing about them felt right anymore.

Suddenly nothing really felt right anymore.

There were parts of Harry that wished he could have blamed his and Ginny’s break up on his attraction to men. It would have been so much easier if it had just been a matter of him being gay and not like women at all, but that wasn’t it either. Pansexuality aside, something was just fundamentally different about Harry after the war. Something with his magic. It felt...alive, wild, untamable.

No matter what Harry tried to do, his magic felt like a life force: thrumming, pulsating, coursing through him and threatening to spill out at any moment. It was an inescapable feeling of self awareness that left every inch of him feeling saturated, electrified, and oh so, incredibly on edge. It was like destroying the Horcrux inside of him had broken a dam and every bit of him was flooded.

It was yet another thing that made Harry feel abnormal and ostracized, especially when it drove Ginny away. There was nothing quite as depressing drifting apart from the person you have feelings for and feeling helpless to stop it. The more Harry tried to ‘fix’ him, and fix him and Ginny, the worse it seemed to get. By the time she’d gotten drunk at one of the 8th year parties he constantly refused to go to and made out with Luna, Harry couldn’t even blame her. They decided to cut their losses and end it before they ended up resenting each other.

“Your magic is suffocating,” Ginny had said when they made the decision. She’d confessed that whether it was during sex, out on a date, or even just sleeping next to each other at night, Harry’s magic was like a crushing weight around her neck. Harry would never forget those words, would never forget watching the way Ginny moved so freely, so unencumbered once they broke up. It was hard to forget when he’d had to watch it happen with every person he tried to be with after her.

Until Draco came along….Harry couldn’t forget that either.

“Gnnf!” was the only noise Harry could make as he went crashing down into the snow, a blur of blonde and grey coming down with him.

“Fuck! I’m sorry,” an all too familiar voice was saying as he was quickly hauled to his feet.

Harry was fairly certain he had never heard anything so sympathetic come out of Malfoy’s mouth before but he didn’t have too long to dwell on it. Before Harry could even follow what was happening a large man came rushing toward them, wand drawn and pointed at Malfoy.

“They should have given you the Kiss along with your father, boy,” the man snarled, taking a step closer.

“Leave him alone,” like a man possessed, Harry moved between Malfoy and the stranger’s wand, magic already starting to radiate off his body.

“You stay out of it, boy!” the man spat, waving his wand around, and sounding far too much like uncle Vernon for Harry’s liking.

His magic felt like a sea at his command: powerful, fluid, and unrelenting. Harry waved an irritated hand, a wandless and wordless Expelliarmus sending the man’s wand careening off into the far distance.

“Good luck finding you wand,” Harry laughed, leaving behind a very distressed and sputtering wizard as he led off a very quiet, shivering Malfoy.

Maybe it was the fact that Harry still felt indebted to the git’s mother, or felt responsible for him since he’d spoken at Malfoy’s trial, or maybe that it was because Harry secretly thought Malfoy was fit, but whatever it was...something made Harry want to protect the little blonde arsehole. Harry had seen enough of fighting and as much as Harry thought Malfoy was a prat, they’d been kids, the war was over, and Harry would be damned if he’d sacrificed so much just to watch an adult that was probably older than both of them attack a kid.

“I could have protected myself,” Malfoy finally muttered after they were a considerable distance away.

“You’re welcome,” Harry rolled his eyes, feeling his magic crackling inside of him, spiking up with his annoyance. Only Malfoy could be so much of a git that he couldn’t even say thank you when Harry had just come to his rescue.

“I’m not some frail damsel in distress,” Malfoy added, stomping forward in the snow, teeth chattering slightly.

“You’re such an insufferable little shite,” Harry huffed, stomping forward in the snow until he was ahead of Malfoy.

“And you’ve got a fucking hero complex!” Malfoy snapped, stomping along until he’d passed Harry.

“Git! I should have left you to get your bollocks hexed off!” Despite the snow coming up well past his ankles, Harry was practically running through the snow, hell bent on not letting Malfoy beat him to the castle.

“Oh no, the almighty saviour would have left me to fend for myself!” Malfoy snorted, stopping dead in his tracks to reach down and chuck a snowball at Harry’s head.

Snow melting and creeping down his back, Harry turned on his heels, nearly skidding in the snow as he stopped to stare at Malfoy. His magic, his anger, all rolling inside of him like a tidal wave. He took a step closer and immediately saw Malfoy still, his breath hitching in his throat. The air around them felt thin as Harry marched forward, his magic feeling as if it were going to jump out of his skin and bury Malfoy alive in the snow.

“What, nothing to say now, Malfoy?” Harry taunted when they were face to face, their noses practically touching. He gave his magic a mental push, relishing in the way Malfoy’s knees buckled just a little.

Served the prat right, after all.

They stood like that for what felt like ages, Harry’s magic crashing over Malfoy repeatedly like waves against the shore, the two of them glaring at each other as they stood rooted in the snow. Neither of them wanted to be the first to look away. Neither of them wanted to be the first to back down. Until Malfoy’s hand was suddenly fisted in the front of Harry’s coat, his lips crashing against’ Harry’s. A tiny moan got lost between them and when Harry found himself slipping his tongue into Malfoy’s mouth, he wasn’t even sure who it had come from.

Prat.

Every time Harry thought he had Malfoy figured out, the git managed to surprise him.

That first kiss led to their first date. Malfoy quickly turned into Draco and Draco had -annoyingly- quickly captured Harry’s heart. He was the only one who could tolerate his magic, not only tolerate it, but seemed to genuinely enjoy it. Every time Harry though it was getting to be too much for Draco, Draco always managed to go toe-to-toe with him. While Harry’s magic was erratic and overbearing, Draco had a magic all his own. He had an unwavering ability to be completely unfazed by Harry’s power. It was exhilarating and before long, Harry had fallen fast and hard. Everyone thought they’d eventually crash and burn but Draco held tight to Harry, thriving where so many had crumpled before.

“What are you doing up?” a sleep voice came from underneath the covers.

Harry moved the blankets back and stared down into Draco’s hazy grey eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. Draco always looked best in the morning with his messy hair and raspy voice, the way his eyes looked like they would slide shut again at any second, and the way he loved to cuddle close to Harry and convince him to go back to bed.

“I was thinking about how we got together, love,” he leaned down and placed a kiss to Draco’s hair.

“At the crack of dawn?” Draco sat up with a yawn, looking about the room. It was dark save for the glowing light of the telly that Harry had been watching on mute while he reminisced. Draco fumbled for his wand and cast a quick Tempus, immediately making a noise somewhere between a distressed whine and a disgruntled snort.

“It’s four in the morning, you nutter,” flopping back down into bed, Draco tugged at Harry’s arm until Harry slipped against the sheets and came crashing back against the pillows.

“Come to bed, Mr.Potter,” Draco grumbled, shuffling closer beneath the blankets until he was close enough to sling a leg over Harry’s and bury his face into the soft fabric of an incredibly worn yet still miraculously comfy Weasley jumper.

Smiling, Harry wrapped an arm around Draco’s waist, resting his cheek against a soft mound of blonde hair. “Whatever you say, Mr. Potter.” Harry settled down into the warmth of his plush bed beside the man who, much to everyone’s surprise -even Harry’s- had been his husband of nearly ten years. Warm, content, and at peace, he was able to sleep knowing that no matter how out of control his magic got, Draco was always there to tame the storm and keep them going strong.

#dewitty1 #happy birthday #you beautiful human #you're grand #and absolutely lovely #drarry #drarry fanfiction #drarry ficlet #fluff #getting together #kinda #domestic drarry #magically powerful harry #pansexual harry #draco is a cuddle bug #you can't tell me otherwise #fight me

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dawnpil · 5 years

Text

first draft

summary: you were raised to be careful with your heart around witches, but one pretty word witch is determined to change that. pairing: young k x reader genre: fluff bc honestly what else do i write notes: a continuation to a series i started literally a year and a half ago, oops (stone witch!wonpil)

you know about the day house boys, of course

you’re starting your junior year and they’re the most popular people on campus, after all

hell, you’ve got one of wonpil’s hematite rings for focus

your favorite scarf is one dowoon knitted warmth into the fabric of

you’ve seen brian around the house, but you’ve never gone to him for his magic

out of the witches his magic can do the widest variety of things, which means he charges the steepest price, and you’re just a broke college kid

your friend, who goes to brian every full moon, tries to explain how his prices work

but you’re not having it; you need your voice too much to lose it for three days, and you’re not sure you have anything else he’d want

here’s the thing: word magic evolves constantly, and word witches always need to know what phrases are going in or out of style

so from what you’ve gathered, brian’s price for his magic is to take a customer’s words for varying durations of time

and you can’t have that, not with your three a.m. spot on the campus radio

besides, you don’t really have a need for his magic: you’re never in enough trouble that dowoon’s woven charms don’t work, or wonpil doesn’t have some sort of stone for your problems

you avoid his magic successfully for two and a half years, but you don’t avoid him

he’s in your fundamentals of linguistics course your second semester, soft black hair falling in his face as he takes diligent notes

when you go to pick up dowoon’s charms at the start of fall sophomore year brian’s curled up untangling thread with nimble fingers, and he throws a soft little smile your way

you’re not sure what makes you proceed to drop your wallet and dowoon’s charm four times before you make it back out the door, but your friend is convinced it was brian’s smile and won’t accept any other answer

you shove their arm, tell them that they shouldn’t be projecting their own infatuation onto you

but it happens again near winter break, when you’re selecting a few pieces of onyx and rose quartz for your friends back home

brian’s wandering wonpil’s shop, inspecting the little baskets of crystals, and when you turn to head to wonpil’s register you nearly run into brian

startled, you start to take a step back, eyes wide, but he reaches out to stop you

it’s a good thing he does, or you’d have knocked over the table of crystals, and you really don’t have the money for that

his hands are warm on your shoulders, his dark eyes apologetic, and this close his chest is a whole lot broader than you’d thought from a distance

“sorry,” he says, and his voice is more musical than you’d remembered from linguistics. “i should have been more careful.”

this time you don’t lose your fine motor skills, but you do forget how to speak

he’s just. beautiful, this close up

so you stare at him and try to remember how to form words and after a moment he laughs gently, the sound honey-sweet

“i didn’t even have to cast seen and not heard to enchant you. interesting.”

is he flirting? you think maybe so. your friend thinks definitely so.

that really kind of terrifies you; it’s not that you don’t trust the day house witches, just that you were raised with tales of enchantments and love potions and falsities, and that kind of cautionary bedtime story is hard to forget

so you take to avoiding him as much as possible; you send your friend to get your hematite and carnelian recharged, and even as the warmth charm in dowoon’s scarf starts to fray you refuse to go get a replacement

if you could never set foot in day house again you’d be perfectly content

despite this you still think about him, about the silk in his voice when you go to karaoke night, about the way you always seem to find him in the library hunched over his textbooks at odd hours with coffee cups littering the table, about the way sometimes you daydream about holding his hand on the way to the coffee shop just off campus

you try to ignore these thoughts, try to ignore him, and bury yourself in your work for the rest of sophomore year

but the thing about junior year is that your classes are getting more serious, and as a creative writing major you’re expected to have new work for two different classes almost every week, and it’s draining

your carnelian is losing its charge quicker than ever, because this far into the semester you’re struggling to find creativity this constantly and on top of all your other work

it completely loses charge a day before a ten-page story is due for workshop and you’re stuck with a blinking cursor and a blank page

your roommate looks over when you slam your head onto your desk and understands immediately

“go to brian,” they say. “he’s got a spell for writer’s block, according to momo.”

if you weren’t so tired, so frustrated, so desperate you would never have considered it

but it only takes a few minutes’ persuasion for you to be lacing your boots and shoving your laptop into your bag and heading for the familiar little house

jae’s the one to open the door for you, feathers in his blond hair, and he grins

“please tell me you’re here for younghyun. he won’t shut up about you, not after the open mic last tuesday.”

you consider turning around and leaving—the poem you’d read at the open mic was much more personal than you’re usually comfortable sharing, and to think brian was so focused on it terrifies you a little

but then you think about how close you were to crying out of frustration, about the days of staring at that blank page and ticking cursor, and you nod at jae

“he’s upstairs,” jae says, “third door on the left.”

brian’s playing guitar when you find his room, sitting on his bed plucking at chords with his black hair falling over his face as he bends over the instrument

you freeze, in the doorway: you had no idea the room jae was sending you to was brian’s bedroom, since wonpil has the shop set up downstairs and sungjin works out of the kitchen. this is oddly intimate, and you almost turn tail and run

before you can brian looks up, his fingers stilling, and he smiles, and your resolve melts

he beckons you in to sit at his desk chair, and he sets the guitar aside to look seriously at you. “what are you here for?”

“writer’s block.” you run your hand through your hair with a sigh of frustration, and he smiles sympathetically

“writer’s block like you don’t have any ideas or writer’s block like you don’t know how to start putting them into words?”

there’s no magic in his voice, not yet, but there might as well be, with the enchanting lilt in every syllable. you could listen to his voice forever, you think

“the—um, the second one,” you say, fidgeting under his dark eyes, and again he nods

“my price is your words for a period of time.” it’s your turn to nod. “with this spell it’s usually a day, but i know you’ve got the radio show in a few hours and i wouldn’t want you to not be able to do your job.”

he pauses, considering, and you tug at your sleeves as you try to find a way around having your words taken away

“why...why do you take people’s words? like, what about them is the reason they’re your price, when you could be making money or something?”

“it’s how my magic works,” brian explains. “the more people use a certain phrase, the more power it’s imbued with, so i take people’s words to see if they can give me new spells.”

this fascinates you—your parents had never let you learn about magic, and as a result hearing the littlest bit about it is making you think of questions you never knew you had, and you want to learn everything about this

it’ll be good for stories, anyway, you think, good world-building and maybe an opportunity for new types of characters and stories

and you might have a way out of this, a way to pay brian fairly while keeping your words

“what about languages other than english?”

he pauses at this. “i have a few korean spells i got from my mom, but i hadn't thought about other languages. which one were you thinking?”

you’ve taken spanish courses for a few years, and you speak it with your roommate and their friend, enough to be reasonably conversational, and when you explain this to brian he nods and you spend another five minutes hashing out a schedule for you to come over and teach him

finally the business has been arranged and you set up your laptop at the little table he keeps in his room for this purpose, and he sets a mug of coffee and a bagel next to your things

“odds are you’ll be writing for a while, and the spell makes it hard to take breaks. if you need anything else let me know and i’ll grab it for you.”

his eyes are soft obsidian, and despite your overall hesitation about magic you wonder if there isn’t some sort of enchantment that’s making your heart beat like this

but a second later he sets his hand on your shoulder and murmurs “use your words”

it’s like a dam bursts: suddenly your fingers are flying over the keys, your mind racing sentences ahead faster than your hands can manage, and the story you’ve had rattling around in your head is taking shape on the formerly blank page

when you resurface a few hours later, a completed draft sitting in front of you, brian smiles as you take a bite of the bagel

“got something finished?” you nod, and return the smile

“it’ll need editing, but i got the draft done for workshop, and that’s what’s important.”

a glance at the clock says you barely have enough time to rush to the dorm basement the radio uses as its studio, so you gather up your things and down the last of the coffee and clamp the bagel between your teeth as you tie your boots

you’ve got one foot out the door when he calls your name and you turn, a question in your eyes since there’s bread in your mouth

“call me younghyun,” he says. “younghyun’s for friends.”

is that what you are now? you debate this with yourself for a week; you’ve only gone to him for one spell, though the first of your spanish sessions goes well

he’s got plans for de nada and de tal palo tal astilla freaked you out a little bit when he used it to perfectly replicate the origami rose you got from a girl in one of your workshops last semester

you think if you aren’t friends yet you’d like to be, now that you’re losing your fear of his magic

on the nights you lie awake staring at the fairy lights strung above your bed thinking of obsidian eyes and nimble fingers and lilting words you let yourself admit maybe you want to be more than friends

it takes another two weeks for anything to happen

it’s the last of your spanish sessions, the last of your payment for the spell, the last of your excuses to spend time with brian

he seems nervous the whole time, too distracted to remember en boca cerrada no entran moscas and as a result he has yet to make the silencing charm work

no matter how much you coach him through the syllables slowly, his attention is elsewhere

to be fair, yours is as well: trying to figure out where his mispronunciations are is giving you an excuse to stare at his lips, and regardless of whether he works magic into his words his voice is ridiculously easy to lose yourself in

before you know it the time is over, and you sigh and remind him of the list of phrases you’ve given him so he can strengthen the spells without your help, and he hesitates with his backpack slung over one shoulder but can’t seem to bring himself to say anything

as you study his now-familiar features you give in, and this time you’re the one to stop him halfway out the door

“one more phrase,” you say, and he turns and you square your shoulders

“tú me gustas.” i like you.

he’s like a deer in headlights, eyes wide, but he recovers fairly quickly and crosses back to you

“i thought you weren’t a witch,” he says, a smile playing on his lips

“i’m not,”you say, though your voice barely makes it above a whisper; his hair is flopping into his eyes and all of your restraint is going into keeping your fingers out of the dark curls

“then how can one sentence be so enchanting?”

he grins when this time you’re the one to get flustered, and he reaches out and takes your hand and your words get stuck in your throat

“what kind of word witch am i if i can’t find the words to confess to the person i like?” he says, then shrugs. “since you confessed first, can dinner be my treat?”

the first time younghyun kisses you he meets you just offstage when you finish a reading of one of your short stories in the little student-run coffee shop: your papers are still clutched in the hands you throw around his neck, and there’s a smile on his lips as they press against yours, and the moment weaves an enchantment you know has nothing to do with younghyun’s magic and everything to do with younghyun and the way the two of you fit against each other like a perfectly-crafted metaphor

dating younghyun is coffee shop dates to people-watch and pick out threads of language, is borrowing his hoodies even when it gets too warm for them, is laughter and falling in love with the way he scrunches his nose when he’s acting cute, is resting your head on his shoulder at a poetry reading and pressing kisses to his jaw between poems

dating younghyun is him waiting outside the studio at 3 a.m. with hot chocolate and that assignment you needed to print, is running your fingers through his hair until he relaxes enough to sleep after getting anxious about a test, is teaching each other the languages you speak and rewarding each other with kisses when you remember vocab, is closing his laptop and pulling him to bed when he refuses to stop working, is coffee and ink-stained hands and switching languages mid-sentence

more than anything dating younghyun is like a story, a draft that gets better the more you pour time and effort and love into it, is the magic of surprising turns of phrase, is a collaboration you couldn’t ask for a better co-author for, and you know for a fact this is going to be your magnum opus.

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thelangdoncooperative · 6 years

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Seven Wonders Part 4

Y/N and Michael spent the next three weeks constantly in each other's company. Cordelia had assigned the witches and warlocks to separate lessons but they found time during the week to be together afterwards. On the weekends they explored New Orleans and she showed Michael all her favorite parts. Michael made them stop constantly for beignets. The first time they kissed, she could taste the powdered sugar on his tongue. When they weren't out gallivanting, they were holed up in Y/N’s room working on enhancing their powers. Maybe they could've kept their relationship private a little longer had Michael not had a preference for public displays of affection.

“Hey,” Y/N jumped at the sound of his voice, gasping as he pinned her to the wall. He placed his hands on the wall on either side of her.

Giggling, she asked, “What do you want?”

“Nothing in particular,” he kissed her, running his tongue against her bottom lip, wishing to deepen the kiss.

She left out a faint moan, so low Michael almost missed it. Pushing him away, she straightened out her blouse, “I have a lesson in like two minutes. I don't have time for this,” she fiddled with the button on his uniform jacket, “no matter how cute you are.”

“Are you going to show them?” He asked, bumping her nose gently with his own.

She shook her head in confusion, “Show them what?”

“What we've been practicing,” he took her hand, lacing their fingers together.

“No. Maybe. I don't know,” she chuckled faintly.

Michael leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “You're stronger than them. All of them. Don't forget,” he kissed her one last time before retreating down the hall to the boys who were calling his name.

Today's lesson found the girls standing around the sitting room. In the middle of the room was a mirror.

“Girls, we’re going to do something a little trickier today. Somewhere in this house is a broach. It’s a red ladybug pin. You've seen it on Myrtle before. What you have to do is look into the mirror and tell me where in the house I've put it,” Cordelia explained, “Seems easy enough but you'll have to focus”

Several girls looked into the mirror and called out places around the house. Cordelia would give nothing away until every girl had her turn. Only then she would reveal who had been right. Y/N had never tried this particular feat before but she couldn't imagine it was harder than transmutation or Vitalium Vitalis, the act of resurgence.

After each girl had gone they sat on the couch as Cordelia spoke, “Y/N, please sit”

Y/N had been staring deep into the mirror. She could make out exactly where it was.

“Right. Whoever said the attic was-” Cordelia turned to whatever had the girls collective attention. Y/N reached her hand into the mirror which had now seemed rippling and warped. When she pulled her hand back, she opened her palm to reveal the broach. Most of the girls sat in stunned silence while one or two clapped. Y/N turned to Cordelia proudly. Cordelia's expression became hard and her tone was stern, “Y/N please go to my office and wait,”

“But I found it! That's what you wanted,” her voice rose.

Cordelia shook her head in disapproval, “I asked you to tell me where it was. Go to my office and wait,”

Y/N slammed the broach down on a coffee table as she walked out. She walked briskly down the hallway, anger seeping through her pores. What did Cordelia want? If she was capable of more, why couldn't she do it? Y/N sat, one leg over the other, arms crossed, and a semi-permanent bitch face on. She was seething and she couldn't wait to hear just how Cordelia could justify her punishment.

When Cordelia entered the room, her features were softer and she sat quietly at her desk, ruffling some papers before she spoke. “I want to have a brief talk with you. I know that you are aware of just how powerful you are becoming,” she sifted through a file, “You've come a long way in a short time here but what it keeps coming back to is discipline. I am not the first one to notice that you have a hard time following instructions. These instructions are put in place to help you push yourself within safe limits. What you did in class today wasn't-...You shouldn't be doing that. Do you understand that?”

Y/N nodded, “Cordelia, I can do more than this. You know and I know it. I don't understand why I have to move at such a slow pace. My powers are stronger and they grow stronger everyday. I can't contain them forever,”

Cordelia smiled kindly, “Every witch feels that way. It's important to pace ourselves. For example, we still haven't mastered your second sight,” she looked down at Y/N's gloved hands, “there is still a lot to learn and control.”

“Maybe this isn't something to be controlled,” Y/N suggested, “maybe it's something to embrace.”

Cordelia raised an eyebrow in confusion, “Did you not say when you arrived that you wanted to silence the noise? Is that something you're ready to have on full volume all the time?”

Y/N paused for a few moments before taking a deep breath, “I've been...practicing”

“What does that mean?” Cordelia frowned.

“It means I've tried to control it. When I did, the only time I actually tried, I saw something different. It wasn't the past this time. It seemed like-” she shook her head at how dumb she was going to should, “it seemed like maybe it was the future,”

“And whose future was that?” Cordelia inquired, folding her hands on her desk. When Y/N remained quiet, Cordelia asked more forcefully.

“Michael’s. Mine. Our coven’s, I suppose,”

“Langdon?” Cordelia asked and Y/N nodded. “Quite a lot of ground you covered,” she pushed her papers aside, coming to take the seat next to Y/N on the other side of the desk, “and how did you see it?”

“Same way as the other times. I touched his hand,” she stuttered, “well, technically, I also touched his face. That was new but it worked if I put enough focus into it. It felt like I was taking the images from him directly. Images of the future he was in, not his past”

Cordelia nodded in silence for a moment. She walked over to the window, looking out as she contemplated her next thought. “Y/N, I’d like to have another meeting with you tomorrow when Myrtle comes back from her trip. In the meantime, if you have anymore of these visions, particularly as they relate to this coven, please let me know,”

Y/N nodded in agreement before she continued, “Only if it happens upon you. Don't go looking for it,”

When Y/N returned to her room, she made sure to clear the littering of books she left on the floor lest Cordelia should stop by for a visit. She put them in neat piles under her bed where she knew no one would look. Her long duvet would cover them from being unintentionally discovered.

“Spring cleaning?”

Y/N was startled by the voice but continued to straighten up as Michael came to sit on her bed. He had changed from his uniform and now wore jeans and a gray t-shirt.

“Something like that,” she said as she kicked the last book under the bed.

“I heard what happened with the pin,” he said, leaning back against the headboard and crossing his legs at the ankles.

Y/N nodded, “and? It was nothing,”

“If it was nothing, why would Cordelia call you to her office?” He raised an eyebrow.

“She just wanted to make sure I was okay. I get it, there are rules here”

Michael scoffed, “Yeah and all they do is reign in your power and stifle your magic”

Y/N shrugged, “It's not ideal but she's the Supreme for a reason. I trust her”

“So, what was the end result of your little meeting?”

“We're going to have another one when Myrtle comes back,” she explained.

Michael's eyes narrowed and he rose from the bed to stand in front of her, “Don't you see what's happening here?”

“What are you going on about?” she continued to straighten out the mess on her desk.

“It sounds to me like she's threatened by your power. By how fast it's developed and the strength of it,” he turned her to look at him, pushing her hair behind her ear and cupping her face in his hands.

She shook her head, “She's the Supreme, Michael. She's not threatened by a little nothing witch”

Michael took her hand, bringing her back to his original spot on the bed, hovering over where she lay, “Have you stopped to consider,” he paused to trail kisses down her neck, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as he did, “that she considers you a threat to her Supremacy?”

“I-...” Y/N tried to think about what he was saying. Maybe it made sense but she honestly couldn't tell with Michael on top of her like this. All she could think about was the sound of her heart beating in her ears and the feeling of Michael's erection against her thigh, straining through his pants.

Michael ran a hand up her thigh, pushing her dress up as it went, “You are strong and powerful,” he said between deep kisses, “You could have all of it if you wanted,”

Michael sat up, straddling Y/N as he reached down and took one of her hands in his. He watched her intently as he pulled each finger of her glove before gliding it off her hand. He did the same with the other before releasing her wrists.

“Do you want to touch me as much as I want to touch you?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, looking very much the innocent with his blonde curls and blue eyes.

Y/N felt the blush creep up her neck and she pressed her thighs together to dull her ache, “I do,”

When Michael reached down to remove her underwear, she stopped him, “Michael I’ve never...done,” she motioned between them, “this”

He chuckled softly and kissed her, “I know,”

“You do? Is it obvious?” She ran her hands over her face.

He took her wrists to remove her hands from her face, “I could hear it the first time you touched me without your gloves,” he explained, “May I?” He asked as his hands held the hem of her dress. With her permission, he pulled the dress over her head.

“Michael...” she reached her hands out but did not touch him. He nodded and she reached out to him, removing his shirt. Michael quickly rid himself of his pants and moved back up her body to place kisses down the valley of her breasts.

“Touch me,” he said, tone drenched in desperation. He didn't care how she touched him or where. He just wanted her connecting with him, letting her walls down.

As he continued kissing her body, she threaded her hands in his hair. She made sure not to make contact with his skin. He kissed back up to her neck, sucking on the spot below her ear, relishing in her moans. He ran his hands down her arms before tossing them around his neck. She instinctively pulled him closer, wanting to feel him completely against her. When he sucked harder on her neck, she dug her nails into his shoulders. The ache between her thighs was almost enough to push out what she saw but not quite.

Y/N saw Michael in the attic of Miss Robichaux’s. Warlocks and witches gathered around to watch him perform psychokinesis. She even saw herself watching, a mix of awe and concern.

When Michael felt her body tense under his, he turned his head to look at her, “Y/N look at me,” he gripped her face in one of his large hands, “I’m here with you now. Be here with me,” he kissed the corner of her mouth.

“I can't push it out,” a few tears of frustration spilled from her eyes. Michael kissed them both where they fell on her cheeks, licking the salty water from his lips.

“Be here. With me,” he whispered, pushing into her entrance in one swift movement that had them both groaning in pleasure. Y/N’s back arched and Michael revelled in the feeling of her chest against his. Her body was soft and warm and he craved every inch of it, “I'm going to take your hands now and it's going to be okay,”

Y/N nodded but Michael could see the worry in her eyes. As he took both her hands in his own, he moved inside her. He was slow, so painstakingly slow, when all Y/N wanted was for him to fuck her. Instead, his gentleness made her heart full and her eyes water. He continued at this slow pace and Y/N thought she would lose her mind.

“Are you okay, mama?” He spoke softly, kissing her cheek as he moved. She didn't have a chance to answer before he brought a shaky hand down between their bodies to move circles on her clit. She couldn't answer when his movements seemed to take the very air from her lungs. As she gasped and struggled for words, she brought her arms tighter around him and pressed light kisses against his shoulder.

“Fuuckk,” he groaned as she began to pulse around him. She was moving her pelvis up to meet his movements and he knew she was chasing that electric feeling in her belly.

“Michael, I’m sorry I-” she nuzzled her face into his neck as he sped up his movements just a little. She brought one small hand to lace his curls, pulling when the feeling was particularly delicious. The other continued to scratch at his shoulders and back. He was overwhelmed by how surrounded he was by her, the way she clenched around him, how badly she needed him.

Lifting her leg to rest in the crook of his arm, he thrusted into her with greater force, “Don't be sorry,” he said, breathless, as she moaned in his ear, “Come with me, Y/N, yeah?”

He continued his grind into her, listening to the sweet sound of their bodies coming together and her soft and desperate whines and moans in his ears. When she came, she pulled on his hair so hard he thought surely he would lose some of it. Thankfully, the pleasure of the pain of it had him following not far behind. She called his name as her body tensed and her eyes screwed shut. He thought, what a privilege it was to see her this way. Seeing her so natural, no snarky comments, no wall up, no gloves. To move with her like this, he wanted to do it for the rest of his life.

She did not let go of him for a few seconds. He waited as she held him close, chest to chest, with her face in his neck and she gathered her breathing.

“Are you okay?” He pulled his face back to look at her as she laid back fully against the pillow. She nodded, a smile on her face. Michael kissed her neck where the redness was slowly fading. He pulled out of her and she whimpered at the loss.

“Was that good...for you?” She asked, slightly embarrassed about how much control she had given up. She was used to maintaining a certain level of distance.

Michael laughed, brushing back the sweaty hair that clung to her cheek, “You look beautiful when you let go,”

They laid in silence for quite sometime, her head on his chest while he stroked her hair. She knew he was finally asleep when his hand stopped moving on her head and his breathing evened out. When she looked up at her sleeping boy, she thought about what she had seen. She wondered what it meant and what he was capable of. She decided that if he hadn't seen it, too distracted by their love to have bothered to get inside her head, she wasn't going to tell him. They belonged to each other and she craved it too much to let anything come between them.

@probably-not-okayy @rainhowling @langdontrash @skullchik89@spring-tidejuvenile @bryanddchartisasmolbean @brieababy @hexqueensupreme@frozenhuntress67@malheureaux @lustlangdon@arabellashold@cheyenneeagle-blog @afflicto@i-should-probably-be-asleep-rn @the-captain-kidd@marsmonroe@ateliefloresdaprimavera@majestichoechlin@meeeeeeeeeps @narcolepticstorm @shado-cat@smalluniversecollector@bohostrology@del-rcys @arealmermaid@vodkasquip @hxdesworld @noice-smort-no-doubt @gloves94 @wtf-t0zier@althehufflepuff @reading–mermaid@heelsamizayn @historyartisan@crybabycth @habblez-the-babblez @jamesbuckybarnes13 @buckynatlarry @claireloyal @our-mrlangdon @itsbqueenthings @fandoms-allovertheplace@wroteclassicaly @rainbowxmisa @phantomofthegrande @avesatanaslangdon@ugly-fire @mchaelangdon

#american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story fanfiction #american horror story smut #michael langdon #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon smut #michael langdon x reader

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goofygomez · 5 years

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After the War - A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Description: After the war, Harry turns his back on the wizarding world for some time to figure things out for himself. His trip leads him to uncover new truths about his new reality.

Wordcount: 4429

This fanfic was inspired by this tumblr post.

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After the war, Harry Potter was shocked to come to the realization that he’d survived. It had not crossed his mind that he would, and he told his friends as much. The sight of the destruction the war had left on the world as he knew it, the world that had harboured so many fond memories for him, had been so horrible to see, Harry had broken down barely moments after arriving at the Burrow. It was too much to handle.

He’d spoken to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny about it, and decided that he needed some time to sort things out for himself. To his surprise, they didn’t object. Having extracted a promise that they wouldn’t reveal his whereabouts to anyone else, Harry bid them farewell and set off to America, where he’d distance himself from the magical world as he knew it.

And so, three months later, Harry put his foot to the pedal as he sped through the countryside just outside some major city, the sun beating down on him from above. Ahead of him, the road stretched on for miles, disappearing in the horizon into the unknown. The heat building up on the concrete distorted its surface, as though a shimmering pool of diamonds awaited him ahead. He smiled.

He looked down at the radio, which was now blaring a rock song loudly, enveloping him like a warm blanket. He liked it, he decided. Ever since he’d arrived here, he’d amassed quite the collection of old cassette records from odd places he visited, stashing them in the glove compartment. He pressed the cassette, removed it, and replaced it with one by the name of “Radiohead”.

As he listened to it, he thought of his first days in America. Luckily, he’d been able to acquire a driver’s license fairly quickly. Driving wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be, he would tell himself as he tried to teach himself the craft. With some of the money he’d exchanged, he bought a beat-up car and set off on the road, no clear destination in mind. He’d considered backpacking through Europe, but the thought of more camping after the year he’d had was enough to drive him insane.

Then, unbidden, his mind wandered to Ginny Weasley, halfway across the world. Her flaming red hair flapping in the wind, her freckles that ran all over her body, that flowery scent that had driven Harry mad for a year. He remembered that time he’d broken up with her over ‘some stupid, noble reason’, as she’d put it, and the time she’d kissed him after it was all over. She’d promised to wait for him until he got back, even though he knew... he didn’t deserve it.

Five minutes later, he saw a figure on the side of the road, standing alone. As he approached it, he saw it was a man, his arm outstretched and his finger held high. His eyes darted toward the visor above him, where his wand was stowed, but he shook his head. He hadn’t used magic if he could help it, preferring to do everything the normal way. Magic had lost its appeal somewhat. It felt… tainted, somehow.

“Magic belonged in the war”, he muttered to himself every night before going to bed and reliving the horrors it had caused. The small, lifeless body of Dobby in his arms. Fred’s last smile before the blast that ended his life. Colin Creevey’s face, unseeing, on the Great Hall floor. They all taunted him, mocking his failure to save them as he thrashed and screamed in his sleep.

Magic belonged in the war. Magic had stripped him of his parents, his godfather, his own life… It marked him for life as someone with power; someone with the weight of the world thrust upon his shoulders, drifting through life as the punches kept on coming. And they never stopped. Even after he’d defeated Voldemort, he felt powerless. A stupid boy in over his head for whom people gave their lives. He definitely didn’t deserve it.

He shook his head again, slowing down the car and nodding to the hitchhiker, a small smile on his face. He’d met many others like him, travelling to places Harry had never heard of. He listened to their stories as he drove through the country, sometimes choosing to reveal some of his himself. Of course, they were all muggles, so some details had to be glossed over but, to his great surprise, none of the people he met pushed farther than he was willing to say. They were all too glad to talk about themselves, he figured.

As he came to a halt beside the man, he rolled down the passenger window and stared at the hitchhiker. He was a tall man with broad shoulders, a hat on his head and sunglasses on his eyes to shield against the summer sun. He looked a few years older than Harry. He wore cargo shorts, a plain white shirt and he’d flung a large backpack on his right shoulder. Sweat clung to his armpits, and his breath was ragged as he spoke in a friendly tone.

“Thank you,” the man said, nodding and smiling at Harry. He did the same. “Are you going to Columbus by any chance?” As a matter of fact, he’d been there not two weeks ago, so he nodded once more and unlocked the car.

Grateful, the man flung his backpack in the backseat and sat down on the passenger seat, closing the door with a thud. He turned to Harry and removed his sunglasses. His eyes were a deep blue, and they surveyed Harry up and down.

“Haven’t had much luck out here,” he explained as Harry set off once more, heading due north. “Not a lot of people stop for hitchhikers these days.”

“I was heading there anyway,” Harry lied, shrugging. “What’s your name?” he asked amicably, casting a side glance at him and then one at his wand. Magic belonged in the war, he told himself.

“Mark Thorne,” said the man, removing his hat and running a hand through his blond hair, slick with sweat. “And yours?”

It was a nice change of pace to have people ask for his name, rather than goggle at him and his scar. Here, away from the wizarding world, he was just another face. Just another man driving through the country with no purpose in life. No purpose in life, he thought fondly, relishing the freedom that simple sentence carried.

“Harry Potter,” he said, nodding. He passed a sign that told him it was another 150 miles to Columbus, with only one stop in between. “What are you doing in Columbus?” he asked.

Mark heaved a sigh and said, “I’m meeting my friends there. See, we live very far away from each other, and none of us has a car, so we decided to go to a middle point between us. That’s Columbus. I’ve been walking for like 3 hours and my legs were already cramping up.”

“Sounds fun,” Harry said, chuckling.

“Not so much,” said Mark, grinning. “You have no idea how many cars just passed by me without a second glance. One old woman even glared at me, I think.”

“Reckon it’s that one?” he said, pointing at the back of a car that loomed ever closer.

Harry passed it with a surge of speed, and Mark whistled from beside him. “And here I thought this old thing could go no further than sixty,” he commented, nodding in approval. After a few seconds of silence, he asked, “And what about you? Long way from home.”

It was true, he knew, but something inside told him he didn’t really have a home. There’s the Burrow, another voice piped in helpfully. But yet, some shred of doubt still lingered in him. Would he even be welcome there when he went back? Would he ever have the courage to go back? In the end, he settled for chuckling again.

“Yeah, I needed to get away.”

“Amen to that, brother,” Mark said, raising an invisible glass in the air. “What are you, like nineteen?”

“Eighteen.”

“Must have been bad back there, huh?” Mark said with a solemn tone.

“You could say that,” Harry said bitterly. Indeed, it had been bad, though not for the reasons Mark thought. Sometimes Harry wished he could talk about it with one of these people, but they wouldn’t understand. They’d think I was mad, he thought. They’d laugh and think I was pulling their hair.

The next hour passed by in silence, punctuated by the music coming from the stereo. Every now and then, Mark made a remark about his music taste, and Harry would just nod and smile. About twenty minutes before they arrived at their destination, Mark cocked his head and asked the last question Harry wanted to hear.

“What’s that scar from?” He pointed at Harry’s forehead, where the lightning bolt scar stood as a constant reminder that Harry was special. The scar that told the world that he’d survived the Killing Curse from Voldemort. The scar that had made him famous; that had marked his future thereafter. He must have winced because Mark backtracked. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s okay,” Harry said, sighing. “It’s from when my parents died,” he explained, as if that settled the matter.

“They – oh...” Mark trailed off, looking far off into the horizon, where the outline of a city loomed ever closer, bathed in a golden hue in the afternoon sun. “Sorry for asking.”

Then, he fell silent. When they passed a dingy hotel, its sign hanging from a single thread of rope on a pole sticking out from above the mahogany door, Mark cleared his throat awkwardly.

“This is my stop,” he said, jabbing a finger outside. Harry nodded and pulled over, unlocking the car. “Thanks for the ride, Harry.”

“It was no problem,” he said, managing a small smile.

“I hope you figure things out soon, man,” Mark said sadly, nodding. “Good luck.” And with that, he heaved the backpack onto his back and walked off, disappearing inside the hotel.

“I hope so too,” Harry said to himself, sighing.

That was how most of his days had been

That night, as he lay on a bed in a considerably better hotel not far from there, he stared up at the ceiling, his eyelids drooping. It had become a habit to stay up as late as he could, lest he give in to the nightmares for longer than he absolutely had to. He had them constantly, no matter what he did. And they were always the same...

When his brain finally betrayed him and he drifted off, he found himself in the Great Hall again, deserted but for himself. He looked around warily, expecting the worst. Suddenly, he heard voices around him. They were soft at first and then got louder, echoing against the high walls of the Hall. They screamed his name, over and over again.

He pressed his hands to his ears, unable to bear another night of torture, but the voices were relentless, slithering into his skull like one of Uncle Vernon’s drills. They hammered into him as he shrunk in on himself, screaming, begging them to stop, to leave him alone.

They cursed him, hatred seeping through their bodiless voices. He was on his knees now, his hands pressed tightly to his ears. Cries of despair and horror ripped through the otherwise still air. They seem to shatter the windows around him, showering him with glass.

“GO AWAY!” he bellowed, but his voice was hoarse, much too strained. He felt his throat close up, his airways contracting. His hands flew to his neck, gasping for breath. Surely, he could save himself with his wand, he thought, reaching for it in his pocket.

No, magic belongs to the war! a new voice, much higher than the rest, screamed at him, making him pull up short. It was right, he knew. He shouldn’t; couldn’t... With a final gasp, the world around him became dark, and he woke again, sweat clinging to his face as he struggled to control his rattled breathing. It was just a nightmare.

But was it?

Most of his nights were that way these days, to the point where Harry had begun to wonder if it was even worth fighting it anymore. The few nights his thoughts managed to drift away from the war, he dreamt of Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, their laughing faces alight with joy as he watched them from a distance. Sometimes, he tried talking to them, but their faces became hard and their laughter died out as if they were upset that he’d push his luck by even daring to speak in their direction. Suffice to say, he was getting tired of it.

After the encounter with Mark Thorne, he came across many other stragglers and offered them a place in the passenger seat. It felt nice to listen to stories that didn’t remind him of the wizarding world. He found, to his great surprise, that he could even relate to some of the problems the muggles had in their everyday lives, though they all felt distant somehow.

Once, after dropping a rather chatty young woman off at a town just outside San Francisco, he pulled over in a deserted alley and broke down on the steering wheel, too overwhelmed to even attempt to stop the flow of tears. Throughout the conversation, he’d smile genially, laughing at the jokes Maria, the chatty woman, had told him. But Harry knew better than to fool himself into believing he could even begin to relate to her.

She hadn’t lived through what he’d lived through; hadn’t had to carry the weight of a prophecy on her shoulders from the age of fifteen. It had all seemed hard at the time, Harry thought ruefully, but he realised now that he’d been mistaken. The hardest part was what came after. The weight of all he’d gone through in the past seven years suddenly seemed to dawn on him.

Why couldn’t he have been like all other people, unperturbed by the tides of fate? Was it so much to ask for Harry to want a regular life, with regular teenager problems? Was he selfish for wanting a normal schooling experience without having to sacrifice himself for the greater good?

He supposed that was the point of this whole trip; to find out what it was like not to be a world-saving hero, but just... Harry. Numbly, he’d wiped his tears drove off, his breathing still rather uneven.

A month later, he was driving along yet another deserted highway. He was now listening to AC/DC on the radio, bobbing his head along to the rhythm. It was peaceful. The day was warm. The bag of groceries he’d bought rattled in the backseat, reminding him that he was hungry. He picked up a sandwich from one of the bags and bit into it greedily.

Minutes later, he spotted a silhouette a few miles ahead on the side of the road. Putting his sandwich down, he squinted against the glare of the sun. It was an older man, no younger than eighty, carrying nothing but a small paper bag and walking along the road.

Harry pulled over next to him. “Sir, do you need a ride?” he asked.

The old man pondered his question for a moment, looking far into the horizon longingly and then back at Harry. His face was full of wrinkles and his eyes were a soft grey. They reminded him of Dumbledore’s blue ones, for some reason. He wore, to Harry’s surprise, an army uniform. Many badges were pinned to his chest, and the tag at his breast read ‘Colonel’.

He seemed to deem Harry’s offer acceptable as he smiled and nodded, getting into the already unlocked car. He placed his hands on his lap, intertwining his long, white fingers. “Thank you, young man,” he said softly, not looking at Harry.

Offering the man a smile, he drove off. “Where are you going, sir?”

Again, the old man took his time, licking his lips slowly as he looked out the window, the smile long gone from his wizened face. “Scottsdale,” he said finally, pointing a pale finger through the windshield. “Should be a few hundred miles, however. I hope that’s not a bother.”

“Not at all,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I was going there anyway.” That was his standard response, as he didn’t really have a single destination in mind.

The man nodded shortly. Silence ensued. Neither of them spoke for a while, choosing instead to take in the changing scenery as the desert gave way to a green pasture, small trees littering the horizon. They saw no other cars, though that was to be expected on a Sunday afternoon, Harry thought.

After a while, the man cleared his throat and Harry turned to him. He wore a small smile that accented his wrinkled features. His hair, or what was left of it, was silvery white. It reminded him of Dumbledore once more, though his former Headmaster had had much longer hair, and had rarely looked as frail.

“I’m going to my best friend’s funeral,” the man said suddenly, startling Harry. He searched for words to say in such a situation but was saved the trouble when the old man elaborated. “I haven’t seen him in years. Since just after the war, actually,” he mused, half to himself.

Harry frowned. “Was he... in the army as well?” he asked carefully, casting a side glance at the veteran, who nodded slowly.

“He was,” he said fondly. “One of the best, one of the best.”

Harry looked forward, his thoughts drifting to Ron and Hermione, and to all the crazy adventures the three of them had gotten themselves into. He imagined himself driving to one of their funerals, a fond smile on his face as he thought of them. It was too much to handle, however, so he shook his head and willed it away.

He didn’t know why he spoke up, but when he did, a sudden weight seemed to have lifted from his lungs, letting him breathe normally again.

“I was a soldier too,” he said, pursing his lips.

The veteran looked at him from the passenger seat with a raised eyebrow, his eyes softening somewhat. “Were you?” he said, in a tone that definitely reminded him of his former headmaster.

“Yeah,” he muttered, looking down for a moment. Again, impulse took over and he asked, “How do you do it?”

“How do I do what?” the man asked, intrigued.

“How do you live after the war?” Harry said, shaking his head. “Because it’s so hard... It’s so hard to adjust to a life I didn’t think I’d have. Hard to think about settling down and marrying the girl I thought I’d never see again.” He thought of Ginny, his eyes watering as he talked, unable to contain himself now that he’d started.

The man regarded him with a soft expression, silent as he let Harry let it all out.

“It’s hard to think not everyone around me is an enemy.” He remembered what it had been like after Dumbledore’s death. No one to trust but himself and his friends, looking over their shoulders at every turn, having to work in the shadows as Voldemort grew more powerful.

The veteran seemed to weigh his words before answering, blinking slowly.

“Were you a prisoner of war,” he asked softly, “or undercover?”

Harry chuckled. “Both, in a way.” It was true, he knew, though he couldn’t quite explain it to him. “I was lost for a long time, searching for a way to end my mission, to end the war. In the end, I got out of it alive, but there’s something inside me... Something’s definitely dead, you know?”

“How old are you?” the man asked, eyebrows raised at Harry’s words.

“Eighteen,” Harry said, making the man turn his head so rapidly Harry thought he might crack it. But he said nothing. Harry knew why. Some armies – some wars – don’t care about your age.

They drove on in silence after that, barely listening to the radio as he sped through the pasture and back into a desert that seemed to go on forever. His thoughts dreadfully drifted back to the Final Battle, to the moment when Voldemort’s forces had retreated, leaving them to collect their dead. Again, the face of Colin Creevey taunted him, pale and lifeless. The boy had been sixteen, not even of age. Yet he’d sneaked into the battlefield. The Death Eaters, however, didn’t care how many OWLs you’d gotten or how well you’d performed in your Defence Against the Dark Arts exam.

Magic belongs in the war.

“I think,” he said after a while, cocking his head, “I think the dead thing is me.”

“What makes you say that, son?” the man asked, not unkindly.

“When I killed the enemy.” He thought of Voldemort, his limp body falling dead on the floor of the Great Hall. “I killed myself as well.” Again, that was true, in a twisted sort of way.

Another long silence. Harry’s eyes filled with tears once more, thinking of home. Thinking of Hogwarts, where Ginny and Hermione had just started their final year. He thought of Ron, joining his brother George in managing the joke shop in Diagon Alley. He thought of Sirius, of his broad smile as he’d clapped at his parents’ wedding, wearing his best tuxedo.

He thought about his parents and their untimely deaths. Their sacrifice had made it possible for him to be here, and he was grateful for that. Yet a part of him wished he’d died with them that night. He remembered that night in the Forbidden Forest when he used the Resurrection Stone.

“Will you stay with me?” he’d asked his father, his heart in his throat.

“Until the very end.” James Potter had said, a smile etched on his young face.

“No,” said a voice to his right, and he turned. The man was looking at him with a frown on his wrinkled face.

“What?” he said, dabbing at his eyes to wipe the tears away.

“No, you lived,” the man said, more firmly this time. “And you’ll keep living, son. You see, living after a war is not about forgetting the horrors you saw.”

Harry thought that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, in truth. The man placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and felt himself shudder beneath his touch.

“I was sent to the frontlines during the Second War,” the old man said conversationally, looking through the windshield into the horizon again. “I got drafted with some friends of mine, and we got into the same battalion. We were eager to prove ourselves, young and stupid that we were.”

“I wasn’t long before we realised how wrong we’d been. Men we’d joked with in Boot Camp dropped dead before us, shot by some German soldier or other, and we just kept shooting back. At the time, we knew in our hearts it was the right thing. We were fighting for our freedom, we told ourselves.”

“But you’re right about one thing. We may not have been prisoners, but we were trapped. Trapped in a war we didn’t belong in, the power to take lives at the tips of our fingers. And we embraced it willingly. The truth is, no matter what you try and tell yourself, those things stay with you until you’re old.”

Harry never spoke as the man kept talking, entranced by his voice as it became stronger and harder. He could hear the pain in it, the hurt of retelling such horrors, and he finally found himself relating to him; truly relating to him, much more than he’d done with any other muggle.

“Living after the war is not about forgetting those horrors,” the man repeated slowly. “It’s about learning to live with them, embracing them,” he said softly, nodding as Harry drove on, unable to tear his eyes from the road ahead.

“One day, you’ll be ready to marry that girl of yours. One day, you’ll forgive yourself for the things you did,” he said, almost knowingly.

“Now that you’ve got out of the war,” he finished firmly, smiling at the young man at the steering wheel, “it’s time to get the war out of you.”

Harry said nothing and instead chose to keep driving, but the man seemed to take this as an appropriate response because he said nothing and sat back on his seat, a hard expression on his face. It was a mixture of sadness and, surprisingly, fondness. Harry thought he could understand.

Much as he hated to admit it, those times when everything seemed lost, when nothing seemed to make sense, had been the times he thrived. He was good in such situations, he knew. It was the unknown he feared now; the uncertainty of his future.

Faster and faster Harry drove, his eyes watering every few seconds, his hand dabbing furiously at them. At one point, he couldn’t take it any longer. He pulled over on the side of the road, casting a fleeting glance at the man, who cocked his head.

Sparing him an apologetic smile, Harry got out of the car and walked a few paces through the grass around him. He couldn’t remember the desert around him turning into this beautiful sight, yet green fields covered the ground as far as the eye could see. Weak, his knees gave way and he slumped on the ground. He let the tears stream freely from his eyes now, but his mouth was curled into a smile.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was laughing. It all seemed so silly, looking back on it, he thought. But he couldn’t seem to stop. His hands grazed the soft, tall grass that grew around him. Suddenly, flowers the colour of the rainbow sprang up around him, blossoming in seconds as their petals opened up to him.

He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes. He felt a rush of power within him, much like he’d felt that night against Voldemort. But this time, it felt different. It was peaceful and pure and fun. Unspoiled, somehow.

He knew it wouldn’t always feel this way, but for now, it was enough. Because for now, he was the boy who lived again.

The boy who lived after the war...

#harry potter #ginny weasley #original character #fanfic #angst #fluff #posthogwarts #ptsd #hurt #canon compliant #jk rowling

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