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sparklysung · 3 years

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✨ADRENALINE RUSH – n.j.m.✨

pairing – na jaemin x female!reader

genre – smut, slight angst | non-idol!au, school!au

warnings – good boy!virgin!jaemin, bad girl!experienced!reader, corruption kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), breeding kink, slight exhibitionism (library), creampie, marking, overstimulation

word count – 3.416 words

note – i got too much into it lol. it turned out so long, i’m sorry for that. i do hope you like it, i’ve been working on it for a few days now and it’s been rough. i’m hoping there aren’t too many errors, and if there are i apologize in advance, i know they are annoying. either way enjoy!

summary – as the local bad girl, your reputation was rather infamous. jaemin knew this and so he tried his best to stay away from you. but after getting paired up for a genetics project, he didn’t stand a chance against your desire to ruin his innocence.

taglist – @junguwuuu , @prvncejxon, @carelessshootanonymous

part i ; part ii

you were mindlessly playing with your pen, doodling on the margins of your notebook, ignoring completely what your genetics professor was explaining on the board in the front of the classroom.

that’s how class usually was for you; not paying attention to anything, just messing around with your highlighters, drawing more doodles to add to your collection or observing your classmates –not in a creepy way, though–. your professor wasn’t that clueless for you to nap until the end of the class, so you took advantage of whatever could keep you awake.

when your hand started to cramp due to the constant movement, you started looking around the room with a bored expression, letting your thoughts go to anything and everything that seemed the tiniest bit interesting. that was until he caught your eye.

na jaemin. perfect na jaemin. excellent grades, the teacher’s pet, always so polite to everyone. the type of guy every parent would want their daughter to date and the perfect role model.

and you were the opposite. you never really cared about school; getting high scores was useless from your point of view, so you never took it seriously. you were used to sneaking out of your house to attend parties and going home drunk with a different guy each weekend –cause life is short and why not–. your lifestyle earned you a ‘bad girl’ reputation, as well as the protagonism of multiple not-so-nice rumours.

you two were so different from one another, belonged to completely different worlds.

that’s why you were so intrigued by him.

it’s not like this was the first time you notice him, you can’t just not notice him. he was gorgeous, to say the least; perfect face, flawless skin, sparkly round eyes adorned with long eyelashes, pink plush lips, fluffy hair with soft dark locks that fell beautifully on his forehead, framing the soft expression on his face. oh yeah, how could you forget that long neck of his, with a prominent adam’s apple that made your mouth water with the thought of marking it with purplish bites. you’ve wanted to ruin him since the first day you laid eyes on him, make him break under your touch and need you as much as he needs oxygen to breathe.

“so, before the class comes to an end, i’m going to assign you in pairs for the project i was talking to you about a few minutes ago.” groans of annoyance were heard from all around the room, finally making you pay attention.

as the professor began mentioning the pairs, your attention drifted once again towards jaemin. he looked genuinely interested in what was being said; eyebrows furrowed in concentration while waiting for his name to be called.

“kim sohee and lee donghyuck,” your eyes wandered down toward his broad shoulders, strong arms and slender fingers. your teeth nibbled with your bottom lip, nails sinking against the palm of your hand as you felt your panties grow damp by the sole idea of him fingering you.

“na jaemin and y/l y/n,” your head snapped first in the direction of your professor, and then to his, who looked rather nervous sitting down a few desks in front of you, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. indeed, jaemin was nervous, so nervous that he felt like he was about to pass out. he could feel the looks full of pity his friends were throwing at him and it was making him feel even worse. he wasn’t too pleased either with the shot of excitement and anticipation he felt spreading across his body. you looked down at your hands, hair slightly covering your face as you tried to hide your devilish smirk.

you didn’t bother to listen to the rest of the pairs, being already too immersed in thoughts about every possible scenario that could take place while you two worked together on the project.

~.~.~.~

as soon as class ended, you threw your bag over your shoulder, making your way towards jaemin’s table and earning a couple of looks of disapproval from his friends. not letting that affect you, you approached him with a sweet smile plastered on your face. “hey,” his face shot up to look at you, hands still working on getting all his belongings inside his bag. straightening his back, he tried to look unaffected by your presence. he nodded his head shortly as a greeting and decided to get this over with as fast as he could.

“let’s work on the project at the library, right after class,” jaemin said, trying to sound confident, but you could see right through him; he was nervous. he figured that a place full of people was less risky rather than either of your houses, where you’d be alone and the possibility of something happening was a lot higher. you shrugged your shoulders, not really minding the location, “see you later, pretty boy.” you winked at him before making your way out of the room, leaving a flustered jaemin behind.

you were bad news, your name only coming up in conversations about breaking the rules, hookups during parties with lots of alcohol involved and other rumours. he knew he wasn’t supposed to feel like this, all about you screamed ‘danger, beware’. and his friends had warned him, always making sure to constantly remind him not to get closer than needed or he would be doomed. but he couldn’t stop the fast beating of his heart nor the butterflies that erupted in his stomach.

jaemin was certain this wasn’t going to end well, at least not for him.

and he was right.

~.~.~.~

a few hours later, jaemin and you were sat side by side on a slightly secluded table. he decided against sitting close to the entrance, as the internet connexion wasn’t so good and you were required to do internet research. he felt on edge every time your thigh brushed lightly against his, though he wasn’t sure if you knew what you were doing or if you were completely oblivious to the small touches.

but you sure weren’t oblivious of the way his body reacted with each of them, fingers gripping tightly the edges of the book he had opened in front of him. you on the other hand pretended to not notice, intently reading the thesis you had found in google scholars about multifactorial and complex diseases.

at some point, you figured it was time to make your move and shoot your shot. it seemed like he liked your proximity and lingering touches, as he had never –in all the time you’ve spent in the library– made an attempt to pull away or make you stop. also, by the look of the prominent tent forming inside his school pants, he appeared to actually be really fond of it. smiling to yourself, you continued as if nothing happened.

jaemin was internally panicking, he was aware that eventually you were going to notice his little –not so little– problem. he wanted to either bury himself underground or lock himself inside his room and wait until he passed away from inanition, starvation or dehydration, whatever happened first. he tried thinking about disgusting things to make it go away, like strawberries or the time when he was dared to lick his friend donghyuck’s sweaty foot, but nothing seemed to work.

you could make out the outline of his hard dick from the inside of his pants, biting your lips to contain the smirk making its way to your face. your hand snaked up his thigh until it was close to where he most needed you, making him shudder and squirm nervously under your touch. “w-what are you doing?”, he managed to ask, swallowing the lump in his throat. this was the first time a hand that wasn’t his own was touching him. because, of course, he wasn’t that innocent. he had needs like every guy his age, hormones all over the place and making him painfully aware of the pretty girl sitting so close to him. your scent intoxicating and addictive, almost making him lean closer.

you didn’t even care to respond, too fascinated by the feeling of his clothed member against your hand, hot and heavy. “s-stop, this isn’t right, w-we can’t do this here.” the panic present on his voice made a chuckle fall from your lips, making jaemin shrink in his seat.

“someone’s gonna hear us, w-we’ll get caught.” he didn’t know what else to tell you to make you stop, how could he convince you to stop when he didn’t want you to? you ignored his words and kept going, the idea of getting caught causing wetness to gather inside your panties. “then you’ll have to keep quiet,” the moan that slipped from his lips made you rub your thighs together to ease some of the tension.

you freed his member from the confines of his pants and briefs, pulling them down just enough for you to have easy access to it, but not so much to make it too obvious. he was big; thick enough to stretch you out nicely. you hummed in approval, spitting in the palm of your hand, going to grab ahold of his cock and slowly start to pump him. jaemin threw his head back, eyebrows furrowed, eyes closed shut and mouth agape in a silent moan. “does it feel good baby?” he hummed quietly, not trusting his voice. he leaned his body closer to yours, chest against your side while his head rested on your shoulder. “so needy”, you mumbled mockingly, to which his hips bucked slightly.

jaemin felt in cloud 9 having your soft hand wrapped tightly around his sensitive dick. he knew all of this was wrong, but it felt so good. he opened his eyes enough to be able to see you work on his shaft. your thumb flicked against his slit as it spread the leaking precum from the tip to the base. he was trying his best to avoid letting out any sound, afraid of drawing unwanted attention.

you could feel he was getting close by the stuttering of his hips, desperately thrusting back against your fist. and, as much as you wanted to see his face while cumming, you weren’t going to let him just yet. you needed him and you needed him now, your slick arousal starting to run down your inner thighs. you’ve had enough.

your hand stopped its ministrations, making him whine softly at the loss of friction. moving to straddle his thighs, you threw your leg over his until you were comfortably sitting on his lap, skirt riding up from your new position. your thin arms snaked around his neck, one going to tangle in his hair and the other to caress his jaw. his hands positioned themselves instantly in your hips, holding onto you for dear life. his eyes nervously wandered over your shoulder, making sure nobody was paying attention to what you both were doing.

you pulled his chin to get him to look at you, eyes hooded and filled with lust. you looked so hot, face flushed a pretty tone of red, eyes sparkling with mischief. he knew he would be jacking off to the thought of you for the rest of the year, if not for the rest of his life.

his thoughts were interrupted, heavy lids almost closing once again and mind going blank, as he felt you roll your hips against his hard cock, which was standing tall in between your bodies. biting your lip, you leaned in to kiss his, feeling for the first time his plump, soft pink lips against yours. a moan escaped your mouth at the sweet taste of his tongue, fighting against your desperately as if he would never be able to savour you again.

rising from his lap slightly, you used one of your hands to position the tip of his cock against your entrance and the other to push your panties aside. a soft groan left jaemin’s lips as he felt the wetness of your core. as you were about to lower yourself on him, he stopped you, fingers digging against your sides. “i-i have never done anything like this with anyone.” if you were being honest, you found his nervous stutter quite endearing. “then let me ruin you.” that was all it took for him to give in to you.

you pumped him a few more times, making sure to completely coat his shaft with both of your arousals. as you lowered yourself on him, you pulled him in for a heated kiss, swallowing his sounds of pleasure. when you had finally engulfed the entirety of his cock, you began moving your hips in circular motions, waiting for the both of you to get used to the feeling. the friction made him pull you closer, face buried in the crook of your neck while small whimpers left his lips, going straight to your core. your walls clenched around him tightly, drawing a loud groan from his chest, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

you kept kissing him, swallowing his groans and moans. he felt so good filling you up with his hard cock, he fit perfectly inside of you, as if he was made just for you; like a puzzle piece. “you feel so good, baby, stretching me out, so so good,” you praised him sweetly, hand running through his soft locks.

jaemin seemed to be unable to get enough of you. he didn’t want this to end, he wanted to stay with you –preferably inside of you–, be able to feel you so close and know he is the one who is making you feel so good.

“wait, fuck,” he gasped trying to catch his breath, “wait, i’m g-gonna cum if you keep going.” it hadn’t been long, but he was already worked up since you started touching him earlier. “is that so? remember we’re not using a condom, baby. if you cum inside me i could get pregnant.” you hummed, trying to get a reaction to your words out of him. and you got it as a higher pitched moan fell from his lips, feeling his grip on your waist tighten.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you, huh?” you quirked an eyebrow, smirking to yourself when you felt him twitch inside of you. “yes”, he whimpered, vision blurred, the pleasure overpowering the fear of being caught. he found himself enjoying the thrill more than he should, almost embarrassed with how easily you could make him lose all his self-control. he knew you were playing with his mind, pushing him just enough to make him risk everything; his reputation, his image. exactly how you managed to get him to lose his innocence.

“what a filthy little boy, who would have guessed perfect student na jaemin was so much of a slut”, you whispered in his ear while raking your nails down his chest. jaemin could only buck his hips to meet yours, desperate to feel more, thighs burning from the effort. he was getting restless, unable to keep quiet as moans rolled off of his tongue with every roll of your hips. your mouth attached itself to his neck, biting harshly to leave pretty red marks that were soon to become purple. the sound of pages turning and typing on the library’s computers reminding you of where you were.

“please, i’m so close,” he didn’t even know what he was pleading for anymore, the only thing he knew was that he needed you, all of you, in every way possible; in every way you were willing to let him have you. “wanna cum inside my tight little pussy, baby? wanna fill me up with your hot cum and put your baby inside of me?” with glassy eyes and hot tears threatening to fall down his crimson cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure which was almost making him dizzy, he let out a string of ‘yes, yes, yes’. his hands clutched your hips to bring you closer, digging his nails on the flesh and leaving crescent moon shaped marks. a moan slipped from your lips, only increasing his desperation.

you picked up your pace, your naked thighs slapping lightly against his clothed ones. the both of you could hear the wet mewls your cunt made every time you lowered yourself on him until he was balls deep inside of you. his hips raised to meet yours, hitting your most sensitive spot with the tip of his cock, as he tried to match your fast rhythm.

jaemin didn’t know what to do with himself. he knew he had to be quiet or else someone was going to realize what was going on, but he physically couldn’t hold the sounds in. in fact, he could almost taste the faint taste of copper from biting too harshly on the flesh of his lips. on the other hand, you didn’t seem to have as much trouble to keep your cool, as only a couple of sighs of pleasure left your lips from time to time. little did jaemin know you were struggling to keep your mouth shut. every thrust of his hips causing him to hit deeper, the fucked out look in his face motivating you to go faster.

though you weren’t as close to cumming as he was, you knew this was his first time and it seemed like he was about to combust. it wouldn’t be so nice of you to make him wait longer, would it? “cum for me baby boy,” and that’s all it took for jaemin to reach his high, hips stuttering and hands trembling. feeling his seed paint your velvet walls, your hand went down your body to find your clit, starting to rub circles against your sensitive bud. a wave of pleasure shot through your body and made your hips jerk roughly against him. the sob jaemin let out went straight to your core making your climax approach faster than you would have thought.

taking advantage of the slippery mess he had made of the both of you, you slid up and down on him faster and with more strength. jaemin, seeing as you weren’t going to stop anytime soon, started growing impatient. “t-to much, p–ah, please, it’s too much”, but you didn’t stop, gripping his strong arms and grinding harder against him. “no, no, please, it hurts” he cried out desperately, begging you to stop bouncing on his oversensitive cock. you shook your head and pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt. you smacked your mouths together, diving in for another sloppy kiss that had jaemin weak on the knees and a moaning mess.

when you tore away from him, jaemin brought his fist to his face and bit it hard, trying equally as hard to control himself. his second orgasm of the day was coming closer and oh was it going to be strong. when it finally happened, his eyes rolled to the back, head dropping back. that was the last straw as you felt yourself coming, walls tightening and clenching around him to milk him dry, the movements of your hand becoming sloppy. he felt light-headed, slightly blacking out for a few seconds until he managed to recover his consciousness.

using his shoulders to help yourself off of him, you let him slip out of you. jaemin winced from the oversensitivity, hands quickly tucking himself inside his pants. as you fixed your ruined panties and messy hair, properly tidying up your clothes, you once again threw your bag over your shoulder. he eyed you with a disoriented look in his face, confused as to what you were doing.

he saw you turn around on your heels before walking out of the library, only your panties preventing his cum from running down your thighs. you left him there, without a single word, not even spared him a glance. you walked away from him as if you didn’t just fuck the life out of him, as if he hadn’t just gifted you his virginity, or more like as if you hadn’t just stolen it. as if all the kisses you shared and loving pet names you used on him meant nothing.

and the worst part of it all was the pang of hurt jaemin felt in his heart when realization fell down on him like a bucket of cold water.

to you, that moment meant nothing. because to you, he didn’t mean anything.

–lia:)

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spacexcowgirl · 3 years

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I’d Lie - G.W.

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N fell for her best friend, but she can’t let him, or anyone else, know that.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Alcohol usage/intoxication, swearing, mentions of food, LOTS of pining and unrequited love, I don’t think there’s anything else?

A/N: This is a song fic inspired by the wonderful unreleased song “I’d Lie” by Taylor Swift! mmmm this is my first fic without a *happy* ending and boy does that make me sad. But do not worry I quite literally already have a second part planned oops. Pictures are from Pinterest.

message to be added to tags :)

I don’t think that passenger seat

Has ever looked looked this good to me

He tells me about his night

And I count the colors in his eyes

Y/N distracted herself with her fingers, tangling and untangling them and cracking her knuckles. It was all she could do to stop herself from completely ogling the boy sitting beside her on the couch. He was positioned towards her, one leg bent at the knee and resting between them on the couch. His hands moved back and forth wildly as he spoke, recounting some story that had happened during quidditch practice that night.

“Are you even listening?” George cut himself off, his tone light. When Y/N snapped her head up to look at him, she found that he was smiling, but still he looked a bit offended.

“‘course I’m listening.” Y/N reassured quickly, her eyes finally meeting his. That was all it took, and suddenly she was being reeled into those chocolate brown eyes, drowning in their various shades and hues, with no way out.

Y/N wasn’t sure when her feelings for her best friend shifted from friendly to something more. It was as if one day his messy hair transformed from something to giggle and roll her eyes at to something to swoon over. When his pranks made her admire his genius rather than scold the disturbance they caused. When his incessant teasing shifted from mild annoyance to exuberant joy from receiving any attention from him. Of course, these shifts all happened slowly, over a period of time, but the realization of them hit Y/N all at once. She was head over heels for the boy, and she hadn’t even realized she had been falling.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d be convinced that someone was slipping her a love potion. Or, maybe, she just hoped that, because Godric would it be less embarrassing than the reality of things. Because the reality was, Y/N really had just fallen for George Weasley, no potions or gimmicks needed, and while she was irrevocably in love with him, he had no clue.

“Seems like you zoned out for a second,” George lightly nudged her with his elbow, although a glowing smile remained illuminated on his face. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just…” Y/N racked her brain for an excuse, something believable, because she knew George could always see right through her. “Just classes, I guess. Umbridge. All of it. I guess I’m just stressed out.”

“So you’ve been letting me carry on about quidditch?” George sounded shocked, but his teasing smile was comforting. “Please, love, if you need something to take your mind off things, you should’ve just said so.”

Without Y/N even having to tell him what she needed, he was up and off the couch, rushing towards the boys’ dormitory steps. Y/N only had a moment to furrow her brows, before George was rushing back down them with a jumper in one hand and a bag of sugar quills, her favorite, in the other. Y/N exhaled a deep sigh, before the involuntary glow and warmth overtook her. Because no matter how much she longed to only view George as a friend, everything about him permeated her subconscious, lamenting and solidifying his place as more.

He’ll never fall in love he swears

As he runs his fingers through his hair

I’m laughing ‘cause I hope he’s wrong

Y/N and George walked side by side down the corridor, laughter bubbling from both of their chests. Y/N adored moments like these, when she could forget everything for just a moment and just bask in the presence of her favorite person. Ultimately, they always were ruined by her feelings hitting her like a truck, or by someone coming to steal him away, so she always tried to live in those few peaceful moments for as long as she could.

George nudged her with his elbow after making a joke, and just as she was about to respond she noticed the change in his demeanor. He was no longer laughing, but instead a small smirk had appeared on his face as he nodded a few feet ahead of them. Y/N followed his gaze, her eyes landing upon his twin brother leaned casually against the wall. In front of him was Angelina, his girlfriend, rocking on her heels as she giggled at something he said.

“Sickening, aren’t they?” George prodded, shaking his head a bit as Fred swooped down to steal a kiss on her lips.

“I think they’re cute.” Y/N tugged her books into her chest, tilting her head to the side as she watched the love-stricken couple. Angelina could have a tough exterior, and Fred could be a lot to handle, but they just got each other so well. Y/N would never say it aloud, but she envied them.

“You would think so,” George scoffed lightly. “You don’t have to listen to him ramble on about her every bloody second of the day.”

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Y/N teased, turning her body away from the couple to face George instead.

“Hardly.” George rolled his eyes, shifting his books into one arm. He slowly raked his fingers through his newly cut hair as he spoke again, entrancing Y/N entirely. “Love’s just not in the cards for me right now. Someone’s gotta worry about products, and about making Umbridge’s day as awful as possible.”

Y/N laughed at his joke, although she felt a little sting in her heart. Sure, he had said ‘right now,’ and perhaps that should have incited some hope in her, but it didn’t. It just made her chest ache. She knew it was foolish, but she couldn’t just drop it. She had to push on, test her luck and hope that George would offer her any sort of solace.

“Come on, I think it would be nice.” Her voice was quiet, and she found she suddenly couldn’t meet his eyes. “Someone you could share everything with? Yanno, they could just be like… your person.”

George seemed to mull over her words for a moment, before swinging his arm around her shoulder and continuing to push down the corridor.

“Well, I already have you for that, right?” George beamed down at her. “Why would I need a girlfriend? You’re already my person.”

Y/N was certain her heartbreak could be heard throughout the school.

He looks around the room

Innocently overlooks the truth

Shouldn’t a light go on?

Doesn’t he know that I’ve had him memorized for so long?

The party was in full swing, blinding lights and near deafening music. It was risky, what with Umbridge slinking around every corner, desperate to give students a detention, but they needed this. Something about this year felt different, and not in a good way, and Fred and George knew one of their infamous parties was just small way to lift spirits.

Y/N scanned the crowd of people, nursing sips of her firewhisky every few moments. Parties weren’t necessarily her thing, but she couldn’t deny that she needed to unwind. As her eyes finally fell upon their desired target, she couldn’t help the warmth that bubbled in her chest or the smile that involuntarily rose on her lips. Once George met her gaze, he shot her a wink and beckoned her over, and she was quick to oblige.

“Having fun, darling?” George rested his weight against her, clearly much more drunk than she was.

“A bit,” Y/N giggled. “Not as much as you, I reckon.”

“What’s that s’pose to mean?” George slurred, giving her a drunken pout.

“Nothing, nothing,” Y/N teased innocently, shifting her weight to better support the boy. She wrapped an arm around his back, using it to steady both him and her. “Maybe you should lay off the drinking for now though, what d’ya think?”

“Fineeeee.” George elongated the last vowel before grinning down at the girl. “Always taking care of me, aren’t you?”

Y/N hummed in response, a small smile of her own growing as she felt her cheeks begin to heat up. “What would you do without me?”

“Hm. Probably die. Fred’s doing, no doubt.” He leaned down to rest his head against the top of hers, shutting his eyes for a moment as he centered himself. “Honestly though, I’m really thankful for you. I don’t think I say that enough.”

Drunk George was always a bit sappy, but Y/N certainly wouldn’t complain. His words felt like a shock flowing through her nervous system, hitting every neuron and sparking her to life. Alternatively, she also felt completely useless in producing a response.

“Godric, I really do have the best friend in the world.” He hummed.

And just like that, the shock was sucked from her body and she was left feeling nothing but empty.

He sees everything black and white

Never let nobody see him cry

I don’t let nobody see me wishing he was mine

Y/N had searched for George for hours. After Gryffindors win over Slytherin, what should have been a wonderful celebration quickly went south. Y/N had watched from the stands as three team members held Fred back and Harry loosely clung to George, as both boys attempted to charge Draco. Of course, she couldn’t hear whatever he said that got the two so worked up, but from the look on George’s face she was certain it must have been bad. Everything seemed to move in slow motion once she saw Harry let go of George, and she watched with bated breath and wide eyes as he lunged at the Slytherin boy.

Of course, she had heard about the twins’ and Harry’s lifetime ban from Quidditch, and she knew George must be feeling awful now. So, she had to find him. Even if he didn’t want to see her, or anyone, she had to be there for him.

She had checked just about every spot in the castle she could think of, sighing profusely each time that she came up empty. Fred and George knew the hidden corridors and passageways of the school better than anyone, and she was certain he had used that to his advantage.

Just as she was about to give up, she decided to check one last spot that she knew of. She crept slowly up to the seventh floor, careful to make sure no one was following her. She paced back and forth three times, just as she had been taught, and breathed a sigh of relief when the door appeared. Quietly, she pushed it open, and her breath hitched in her throat when she caught sight of the familiar head of red hair. She had found him.

It didn’t appear he had heard her come in, and she used that to her advantage as she slowly surveyed the room. She felt her heart shatter into a million pieces as she took in the familiar sight of the burrow living room and heard George’s quiet sobs from his place before the fire. After the day he had, all he wanted was the warmth of his home.

“Georgie?” Y/N whispered quietly, letting the door shut behind her.

Immediately, George straightened up and wiped at his eyes. She had never seen him cry before, and she knew there was a reason for that. Fred and him both felt they had to be strong all the time, they had to be the ones cracking jokes and making people laugh even when it was hard for them. When he glanced back, his face was red and splotchy, but a forced smile was plastered on his face.

“Hey, darling.” His voice sounded scratchy, and it was clear it was taking all of his power to keep it together. Y/N could see that his lip was busted, illuminated by the fire, and she wanted nothing more than to cup his face in her hands and nurse him back to perfect health. “Reckon you saw the fight earlier?”

“Your lip…” Y/N spoke softly, approaching him with tentative steps. She didn’t have the capacity to answer his question, not when he looked so broken and beaten down.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” George swiped his thumb over his lip, and Y/N didn’t miss his slight wince. “You should see the other guy.”

“You don’t have to do that.” She finally reached him, taking her place beside him on the carpeted floor. “You don’t have to joke and pretend everything’s fine, not with me.”

George studied her for a moment before a shuddering breath left his lips. As the tears began to pool once more, he could no longer meet her eyes. And that killed her.

“I don’t know why I’m letting this get to me so much.” He spoke, sounding entirely disappointed in himself. “But, the things he said, about my mum, my family. And then Umbridge…” His words cut off as the tears began to roll down his cheeks once more.

“I’m so sorry, George.” Y/N reached out and gently cupped his cheek, allowing her thumb to brush a few tears away. When he leaned into her touch, her heart soared. “You don’t have to shut yourself off, though. I’m here for you, always.”

“I know.” His voice was soft as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears away.

Slowly, Y/N leaned forward and brought her forehead to his, letting her eyes shut as well. Her hand drifted from his cheek to the back of his neck, gently playing with the hairs at the base of it. The action seemed to calm him a bit, so she continued to do it. By the light and warmth of the fire, the two sat in silence. Neither needed to say anything, they just wanted to be near each other.

“I love you, you know that?” George was the first to break the silence, not bothering to open his eyes or pull away from her touch.

“I know.” Y/N spoke quietly. “And I love you too.”

And Godric, did she mean it. But she was aware that they meant it in entirely different ways, and that George had no idea.

He stands there, then walks away

My God, if I could only say,

“I’m holding every breath for you.”

Months had passed since that night in the room of requirement, and while so much had changed, so much had stayed the same as well. Y/N had felt herself drifting from George everyday, and not because either of them wanted to. George and Fred were leaving, Y/N knew that, and they had to get everything in order to do so. So, Y/N had to push through everyday with him no longer constantly by her side, and she swore it was killing her.

A few nights prior, he had let her know that this was it, that him and Fred were really doing it. She had faked a smile, excitedly throwing her arms around his neck as she expressed how proud she was. And she was proud, but her chest ached and she swore she felt her stomach in her throat. It was selfish, sure, but she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to get through the year without him.

Now she stood in the corridor outside of the great hall, bouncing nervously on her heels as she watched him say his goodbyes to Lee. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry, but there was already a stinging behind her eyes and she feared no matter how hard she tried to keep her emotions at bay, it would be futile.

When George finally turned and took a few long strides to where she stood, her fears were confirmed. Her tears spilled involuntarily as she threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest.

“Hey, none of that,” George pleaded softly, gently scraping his fingers up and down her back. “You know I’ll write the second that I’m out of here, and it’s only a short bit before you graduate and I see you again.”

“I know, it’s just…�� Y/N sniffled, forcing herself to imprint the moment in her brain. She wanted to remember his scent, and the way it felt to be wrapped up in his arms, and the sound of his voice. Perhaps it was cheesy, or overdramatic, but Y/N could feel her heartbreaking by the second, and holding onto ever piece of him that she could was the only thing keeping her together. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, darling.” George chuckled softly. He pulled back slowly, planting his hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her. “You’ll be out of here before you know it, I promise.”

“You’re right, I know.” Y/N sniffled, wiping at her tears before finally meeting the boy’s gaze. The look he was giving her made her knees weak, and she found herself wanting to spill all of the contents in her heart to him.

He studied her face for a moment longer, but then Fred was calling his name and they both knew it was time. He gave her shoulders a soft squeeze and pulled her into a hug one last time, placing a kiss to the top of her head. Nothing further needed to be said, so he gently ruffled up her hair and gave her a reassuring smile, before turning back towards Fred and beginning to walk away.

The moment was ending, he was really leaving, and she hadn’t told him how she felt. Her heartbeat started to pick up, and her palms began to feel sweaty, because it felt as though it were now or never. She wanted to tell him. She had to tell him.

“George!” She called out, causing him to halt and whirl back around.

“Yeah?” He smiled warmly at her, a few paces ahead.

As she gazed into his blissfully unaware chocolate brown eyes, she found that she just couldn’t. She couldn’t drop this on him, not on one of the most important days of his life. So, she bit down on her lip before shaking her head and forcing a smile.

“Give us a show, yeah?”

“Always do.” George winked.

And just like that, he walked away. And Y/N was left feeling entirely empty.

First thought when I wake up

Is “My God, he’s beautiful.”

So I put on my make-up

And pray for a miracle

Months had passed since the fateful day that the Weasley twins left Hogwarts behind. Just as Y/N had predicted, her time left at the school dragged on horribly. Umbridge only seemed to get worse, even in the twins’ absence, and George was no longer there to comfort her. Still, she pushed through.

After graduation, Y/N was quick to get a job at a coffee shop in Diagon Alley, figuring she’d save up her money while she determined what she wanted to do. It wasn’t the worst job, but with the Wizarding World getting darker by the day, she felt constantly in fear. Still, George was close by, and she once again had him for comfort.

Most nights she’d crash on the twins’ couch, finding it easier to get up in the early mornings and go in to work than staying with her parents in the suburbs. Which usually meant waking up to George preparing breakfast, sleep thick in his voice and his hair still messy. And Godric, was he beautiful like that.

“Sleep well, darling?” George rasped out, a sleepy smile on his face. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself as a small yawn left her lips.

“Mhm.” Y/N hummed, leaning in the doorway of their kitchen. “You?”

“Pretty good.” George grinned, sliding a mug of tea down the counter towards her. Like always, he had made it perfectly to her liking. Y/N cupped the mug in her hands, letting the warmth slowly spread throughout her body and wake her up. “Think I might stop by the cafe on my break, pick up some pastries and coffee.” Just as he finished his sentence, Fred tiredly stumbled into the kitchen.

“You can just say you want to come see me, Georgie.” Y/N teased.

“It’s not just you he wants to see.” Fred winked at the girl, causing her brows to furrow.

“Oi, shut it, Fred.” George glared at his brother.

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t told you about his little crush?” Fred smirked, ignoring the daggers being shot his way. “Elizabeth, that girl that works with you. Georgie fancies her.”

Suddenly, even the mug in Y/N’s hand felt ice cold in her grasp. Quickly, she placed it back down on the counter, fearing she would drop it and let it shatter to the ground. A bit of hot tea sloshed out of the mug, scalding her hand and forcing her mind away from her breaking heart.

“Shit, are you okay?” George had already hurried towards her, but Y/N was quick to brush him off.

“‘m fine, I, uh, should just go get ready.”

Y/N didn’t give the boy’s time to question her change in demeanor, but rather quickly gathered her overnight bag and hurried to the bathroom, locking herself inside. She cast a silencing charm before slowly sliding down the wall, allowing herself to sob freely.

Just as she always knew, she’d never be what George wanted.

I could tell you his favorite color’s green

He loves to argue, oh, and it kills me

His sister’s beautiful, he has his father’s eyes,

And if you asked me if I love him

I’d lie

Y/N felt in a daze that entire day at work. She made drinks, rang customers up, and wiped down counters, but she was unable to think about anything other than the revelations of that morning. Of course, Elizabeth was the only other person working with her, and while she normally adored shifts with the girl, she couldn’t find it in herself to even crack a smile at her. It wasn’t Elizabeth’s fault, of course, and she would never purposefully take it out on her, but Y/N just didn’t have the energy to try that day.

When lunch time rolled around and Y/N knew George would be arriving soon, she busied herself with meaningless tasks, intent on avoiding him and saving her heart any extra heartbreak, at least for the time being. She offered him a small smile when he entered, then ultimately let Elizabeth take his order.

As they chatted, Y/N noted the way he lit up with every giggle he pulled from her lips, and she swore she could hear her heart shattering. When he finally left, coffee and pastries in hand, he called out a quick goodbye to Y/N, but she only offered a small nod in return.

“Godric, he’s charming.” Elizabeth sighed, coming to lean beside Y/N. “You two are friends, yeah?”

“Mhm.” Y/N didn’t look up from the sugar packets she was organizing, watching as her hands shook slightly.

“Well, tell me about him!” Elizabeth urged, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “Is he seeing anyone?”

“No,” Y/N sighed, finally forcing herself to look up after finishing her task. “What do you want to know?”

As much as it killed her, she knew what she had to do. George deserved to be happy, and she was his best friend, so she had to help him get there. George would never want her the way she wanted him, and maybe seeing him with someone else would help her get over that fact.

“Anything. Everything.” Elizabeth beamed, her perfect smile on full display.

“Well…” Y/N sighed, gathering her thoughts. “He has a twin, Fred, and they run the joke shop that just opened down the way. He’s a middle child, sort of, I mean Fred is technically the middle child but that’s just because he was born a few minutes earlier. They’ve got three older brothers, then a younger brother and sister. His favorite colors green, but if you ask him he’ll say it’s orange because of his hair. Um, he was shit at potions, but I think that was just because he hated the professor, because really he’s a genius. Oh, and he’s the funniest guy I’ve ever met, which I tell him all the time but cannot say in front of Fred. I don’t know, I guess he’s just about the best person I know, honestly.” Y/N sighed, finishing her rambling with a forced smile.

“Merlin,” Elizabeth stared at Y/N, wide-eyed. “Sounds like you’re in love with him.”

“No, really I’m not. We’ve just been best friends forever.” Y/N laughed, the lie tumbling easily from her lips.

Because that’s what she had to do, that’s what she’d always done. To keep George in her life, to make things easier, she kept her feelings close to her heart. And no matter how much it killed her, she would continue doing it. If that’s what it took to see George happy, that’s what she’d do.

She’d lie.

TAGS: @theweasleysredhair @letsgotothehop @wand3ringr0s3 @sarcasticallywitty15 @mischiefisbeingmanaged @gcdricreads @destourtereaux @thisismysketchbook @george-fabian-weasley @evermoreweasley @amourtentiaa @lunalovecroft @sunshineandshadowss

#george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley

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wannajointhecrabcult · 4 years

Text

Reckless Rescuer

I literally just came up with this idea at midnight last night when I was just starting to go into fever dream mode so... This will be interesting. You asked to be tagged so here you go @justconfusedperiod!

Imagine that Marinette never became Ladybug.

Master Fu chose actual adults to go save Paris while Sabine and Tom gave Marinette combat training.

Despite not being a hero Marinette was still caught up in a lot of akuma attacks (Because Hawkmoth is a bitter ass) so she learned how to use everything and anything to her advantage.

Even though she's crafty Marinette still dies in akuma attacks and gets revived by the Miraculous Cure at the end of the day.

As sad as it is, she becomes used to dying.

That doesn't mean that she TRIES to get hurt during attacks, it just means that she expects her life to end one day because of an akuma or something and for her to not come back, so dying isn't a fear for her anymore.

She also builds a tolerance for pain during attacks where she doesn't die, but still gets very injured.

It's amazing how trauma can practically destroy someone's life while others are just so desensitized that it doesn't affect them anymore.

One day the Dupain-Chengs move to Gotham to both expand their business, and to get away from a certain magic fueled fashion disaster.

I mean, seriously.

You're supposed to be a designer but here you are walking around looking like a cardboard candy cane beige toothpick of a man.

Don't get me started on what the heck happened with Hawkmoth's costume.

What is that?

Are you wearing a silver condom on your head or what??

Anyways, Marinette attends Damian's school and they bond over being the only one's not overly worried about danger in certain situations.

At one point Damian thought that she might have been a hero or something but threw that thought away when he witnessed her somehow fall UP a staircase. (I've actually done this before. Surprisingly it's pretty fun.)

All was fine and dandy until one afternoon when they were walking to Neti's place after school to work on a project.

They were walking through a less populated part of the city and were passing a shoe store when two thugs held them at a gunpoint demanding for their cash.

The youngest Wayne was fully prepared to attack the men when Marinette started scolding them for being rude?

Marinette: Hey! You can't just do that! Do you know how rude it is to interrupt someone's conversation?! Apologize right and leave us alone right now OR ELSE.

The two men just looked at her for a moment before doubling over and bursting out in laughter.

After all, what can this tiny school girl do to hurt them?

The first guy calmed down and was about to threaten them again when all of a sudden a pink flat was thrown at his face.

Because of he was unprepared and because of the force behind the flying shoe, he was knocked over and fell to the floor with a thud.

The second guys turned to look at the girl who just threw her shoe at his partner when he was suddenly wacked in the face as well.

So there they were.

Two teenagers, one with no shoes on, in front of a show store with two thugs at their feet.

Truly a sight to behold.

Marinette turns to Damian and asks him for his shoes.

When he doesn't respond (he's in shock) Marinette just shrugs, turns around, and SMASHES HER ARM THROUGH THE GLASS WINDOW OF THE SHOE STORE TO GRAB A CROC AND CHUCK IT AT THE FIRST GUY AGAIN BECAUSE HE WAS GETTING UP.

She then turns to the second dude who was on his knees and says in a dark tone, "You better go and leave us alone before I get my hands on a pair of iceskates. Got it?"

He nods his head and scrambles to run away from the short girl with pigtails that just single handedly smashed her arm through glass and was somehow not wincing in pain from her many bleeding cuts and she threw shoes at them.

His partner frantically got to his feet and followed him.

After making sure that the two would-be-muggers are far away Mari turns to Damian and waves her still bleeding hand in front of his face.

"Heelllooooo? Anybody home?"

She then shakes his shoulders a bit.

Damian, now no longer in shock, starts freaking out about her injuries.

"oh...my...gosh....oh my gosh... oH MY GOSH YOU'RE BLEEDING EVERYWHERE!! OHMYGOSH THAT WAS SO RECKLESS OF YOU, YOU COULD HAVE DIED AND OH NO YOU JUST STRAIGHT UP BROKE A GLASS WINDOW WITH YOUR BARE HANDS!! YOU FUCKING IDIOT YOU'RE HURT! WE NEED TO GETYOUFIRSTAIDOHMYGOSH!!!"

She tries to get him to calm down but that honestly makes him freak out even more.

"HOW ARE YOU NOT REACTING TO THE PAIN OF CUTTING YOUR ARM WITH MULTIPLE PIECES OF GLASS?!? YOU FREAKING THREW SHOES AT THEM! SHOES! WHAT IF YOU FREAKING DIED FROM THAT?!?"

"Well that would make it the 2615th time."

"...."

"....."

"Excuse me but wHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT WOULD'VE BEEN THE 2615TH TIME YOU DIED?!??!??"

Marinette was trying to get him to breathe since he was almost on the verge of a panic attack when the owner of the shoe store came out with a first aid kit.

The elderly woman proceeded to patch up Marinette's arm while thanking her for scaring away the muggers.

"Those two just keep scaring the customers away so I cannot thank you dearie enough!"

"Oh, it was no problem ma'am. They really needed to learn some manners anyways!"

"They really are so rude aren't they. And there we go! Your arm is all bandaged up. I would be careful with it if I were you."

She old lady then turns to Damian who has calmed down a bit now that Marinette's arm is bandaged.

"You've got quite a wild girlfriend here. Be sure to watch out for her safety or else you're gonna lose her."

That causes the two teens faces to burn red.

"Oh no you've got it wrong. She's not my girlfriend although I do agree that I should start looking out far her health more." He turns to Marinette as he says the last bit.

She just replies with a sheepish smile and a shrug.

"She's definitely going to give me gray hairs early."

The store owner gave Marinette and Damian a knowing look before sending the two on their way.

On the walk to Marinette's house Damian kept scolding her for her brash decisions and worrying over her arm at the same time.

At one point Damian asked her if she could actually feel the pain from her cuts or not and she just replied with "I got injured a lot when I lived in Paris so I have a high pain tolerance. This isn't even the worst wound I've ever gotten."

Needless to say, that did not reassure Damian at all.

When they did reach their destination they ended up deciding to finish the project on another day to let Marinette's arm heal a bit.

He calls Alfred to pick him up and when faced with the butler's questioning stare he just replies with "Too much excitement for today."

Before the limo drove off Marinette ran outside to the car and handed Damian a bag full of pastries.

"Consider this an apology for making you freak out so much."

He nodded and took the bag but still told her "You're an idiot you know right?"

"Haha. Or so I've been told." She shrugs. "See you tomorrow in class if you're not too traumatized!"

"Tt. We live in Gotham. It's gonna take more than that to truly scar me. Although I have to say, that's the closest someone's gotten in a long time. Don't do it again."

"No promises!" Marinette yells as the limo drives off.

That night Damian got a nightmare filled with shoes.

Marinette is now known and feared throughout the more amateur criminal community.

True to her word, Marinette tried to reduce the amount of risky choices that she took.

I mean, there was that incident with the llamas, trumpets, and skateboards but we don't talk about that.

Her safety streak ended when Damian was kidnapped.

And by the Joker no less.

Ya, no.

She's not just gonna stand by while her friend litteraly gets kidnapped by a clown man thing when she could do something about it.

The Joker called the Waynes through a video chat and threatens the dump Damian into a pool filled with unidentified and possibly contaminated water until they give him half a million dollars.

And because it's a two way video chat and all of the Waynes (except Damian) are there they can't 'call the batfam' to save him.

Because they were all so busy panicking and Joker was busy laughing, no one but Damian noticed a dark silhouette sneaking around in the shadows.

The moment he saw them he immediately knew who it was.

'Oh no. ThaT'S MY IDIOT!!'

Marinette noticed Damian's panicked stare on her and just, gave him a thumbs up? Before going back into the darkness.

'Oh no oh no ohnoohnononono what's she doing?!' He thought to himself as he heard quiet shuffling in the shadows.

Going back to the screen, Bruce was about to send the money when all of a sudden a bright light was turned on from behind the Joker to the left.

And they weren't expecting what they saw.

There under the light was someone in a Barney the Dinosaur costume sitting in a rainbow bumper car with a radio and a bag filled with something strapped in the passenger side.

TrULy RaDiAnT.

The purple dino turned on the radio, (which was playing the Barney theme song) made eye contact with the clown, and promptly said "Beep beep bitch." in a robotic voice (there was a voice changer in the costume) before driving full speed at him.

At first the Joker tried to run away from the vehicle but for some reason the bumper car was extremely fast and RAN HIM OVER before turning around,

AND FUCKING DOING IT AGAIN!!

Double oof.

They did this around 12 times before the Joker managed to push up from under the bumper car at the perfect time.

Marinette did a backflip (dramatics are guaranteed) as she jumped out of the rainbow ride while simultaneously throwing the radio at the Joker at full force.

The Joker, not expecting that, was thrown against the base of a wall.

He got up just in time to see his attacker pull out a shoe from the bag and chuck it at his nuts.

*cue everyone either laughing at his pain or wincing in sympathy*

The Barney pulls out a sandal from the bag and throws it at his face and uses a black stiletto to pin the clown's arm tO THE FRIGGING WALL when he reaches to touch where the flip flop hit him.

(Is there a difference between sandals and flip flops?)

She then uses another stiletto (a red one this time) to pin his other arm and pulls out YET ANOTHER SHOE (a rainboot) to hit his face.

...again....

This time he gets knocked out though so there's that.

...

....

.....

The power of FOOTWEAR!!

The purple and green dinosaur goes to untie Damian while his family just watch through the screen with their jaws on the floor, still processing what the actual heck just happened.

They get snapped out of their shock when the youngest Wayne launches himself into the Barney's arms and starts rambling about how worried he was and did the store owner give you all those shoes and why the heck did you follow me here.

They don't know what they were expecting the person under the Barney costume to look like but they definitely weren't expecting a young girl with pigtails wearing stilts to come out.

Apparently she needed them to fit into the suit.

Damian: How did you even know I was in trouble?

Marinette: I sorta have a six sense for this kind of stuff. It's disappointing that I didn't get to use all of my amo though :(

Damian: Wait. You brought MORE shoes?

Marinette: Yep! And a couple other things as well. Like this trumpet case, and this bowling ball, and this duck themed alarm clock (I have one lol), and oh! Wait a moment would ya?

*walks over to the pool and dumps around 30 bath bombs in*

Marinette: There! Now this place will smell super nice!

Damian: Did you just dump a ton of bath bombs into a pool of unidentified liquid?

Marinette: Yep!

Damian: Let me rephrase that. Did you just dump a ton of bath bombs into a pool of possibly chemically contaminated water which could possibly have a bad reaction to the bath bombs which could possibly explode or just generally be the death of us?

Marinette: ........

Damian: ........

Marinette: ......

Damian: ........

Marinette: ....well it wouldn't be the FIRST time I-

Damian close to tears: yEs I KnOw PLeaSe StOp ReMinDiNg mE.

Ya so this was just a random idea I had and that I will probably not be adding to but y'all reading this are more than welcome to! If you do continue or make your own little spins on this please tag me! I would love to read them :D

#this is what happens when i think of shoes at like 2am #Barney is a boss bitch #maribat #maridami #damimari #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #daminette #miraculous crossover #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #chaotic marinette

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reynie-muldoons · 3 years

Text

'A Whisper, Not a Shout' liveblog!

0:00 I'm screeching I've been looking forward to this so much

1:30 so that's Miss Perumal, right? Right???

1:30 WAIT HOLD ON Number Two was sleeping????

1:48 I'm sorry but Number Two being ready to fire at will with a slingshot is funny as hell to me

1:58 Oh, I guess Rhonda makes sense too. But like what is she doing out at night if she's not the one keeping watch

2:10 as always, the intro slaps

3:14 WAIT HAHAHA Sticky yelling about cheating in the open is so in character 😂😂 so is Kate giving him shit for it

3:22 tactical advantage? Constance, as always, in on something different

3:44 ah yes, convenient Dr. Curtain is convenient

4:16 is....is she spearing a fish

4:25 is that water deep enough to even have octopus?? 😂

4:37 OOH GO RHONDA

4:43 OOOOHHHHH that's where the badminton racket from the intro comes in!!

5:15 dont fucking tell me the episode is named after an octopus dish and not the fucking Whisperer

5:29 they do all seem a bit rattled, that's a good way to put it

5:36 he cares about the kids so much stoppp 🥺

6:14 the hand gestures speak volumes 😂

6:41 workplace matters?? Workplace matters??? How is Milligan so goddamn funny on every occasion 😂😂

6:50 HIS FACE EATING THE OCTOPUS HAHAHA

6:55 here we gooo, it's time for Assault Alpha featuring special agent Bookmarks

7:10 never takes long for Dr. Curtain to say something pretentious, does it

7:16 show!Curtain is much more insidious than book!Curtain imo because in the book, he had no reservations about barking orders and being openly rude to his subordinates. In the show, he's covered in this nice, polite veneer.

7:38 omfg he's asking about the tableside salad thing, what a gem

7:57 I kinda love that he's the sort of guy to carry colored pens for coordinated notes

8:02 AYY CALLED IT Kate's in the tree, I called that in the preview last week 😂

8:21 here we go, now enter special agent Bookmarks

8:56 for some reason I expected Constance to tell her telepathically, but that's jumping the gun a little 😅

9:02 I like how the smile doesnt quite reach his eyes, he's losing patience and you can tell

10:19 and just like that, he's called Reynie a whacko with the words of a compliment

10:37 ayyyyy Sticky tryna draw a brainnnnn

11:03 hahahaha he drew everything upside down because he saw it upside down, that makes a hilarious amount of sense

11:18 "it's supposed to be a shoe" honey.......

11:39 soooooo cheating

12:10 every time I think we're seeing Miss Perumal, we see Rhonda

12:21 why is the thought of Number Two tailing her sister so funny to me

12:38 Rhonda Kazembe with the reminder to wear a mask 😌✨

12:45 OOOH VIGILANTE GRAFFITI

13:44 the butterfly effect at it's finest. It's risky, but Rhonda makes a good point

13:49 that is an exquisite example of what it's like living as a neurodivergent person. Coping mechanisms keep us sane and keep us functioning, and that's tangible.

14:30 the beauty of having a multi-faceted team with diverse skillsets

14:57 I love how he just agrees to rappelling off the building in response to getting caught cheating

15:19 Constance and Reynie's relationship hits that sweet spot later on, but right now it's really funny watching her ignore the fuck out of him

16:09 Number Two coping with her stress by withdrawing and getting snappy with everyone is painfully relatable

16:48 Mr Benedict and Rhonda being co-conspirators scratches an itch I didnt know I had

16:59 that's even funnier when you remember that the kids used 'saltines' as a code word for them

17:40 this is the class from the trailer that it looked like sticky was caught in 😬

18:34 oh yeah, not like the teacher is watching the class and would see you two staring at each other

18:51 ew 😂 I didn't have a close up on a drop of sweat on my bingo sheet, but maybe I should have

19:13 yeahhh I really dont know what he expected, they kept looking at each other and he made a face every time he did morse code with the pencil

19:46 Mr Benedict feeling hyperfixated on seeing his brother breaks my heart

20:27 Milligan 🥺🥺🥺🥺

20:38 oh hello Waiting Room

20:55 idk what to anticipate but I'm anticipating something

21:39 Oh.

22:33 nooooo 🥺

23:28 here it comes, the arc where Reynie blames himself for everything. See you in Prisoner's Dilemma when that arc concludes

24:15 she's not wrong 😂😂

24:18 HELLO TELEPATH HELLO HELLO HELLO

24:35 this is a sensory overload nightmare

25:21 oh shitttt, here's the billiards from Number Two's intro card

25:49 throwback to Rhonda saying what keeps her sane 🥺 sisters sisters sisters

26:13 dont fucking "oh"

26:28 this is what I mean about that veneer of kindness. Curtian knew Sticky was there, but presented it as a polite welcome to his office with a touch of concern.

26:54 here we goooo

27:12 disruptive fidgeting? That's ableist as fuck

27:24 "walk me through that" is such a condescending way to approach a conversation

27:47 I know he's acting it up to convince Curtain but he has made ✨points✨

28:00 so Dr. Curtain was playing the long game the whole time, knowing it was Morse code? What an ass, show some transparency

28:25 time to pin it on Martina

28:48 he's cruel and nothing less

29:28 this is psychological torture

30:02 turbines?

30:08 YEAHHHHH

30:34 he's not gonna be pleased until he sees Curtain, calling it now

31:03 Milligan gets it. He gets it so much.

31:59 STOPPPPP 😭😭😭😭

32:19 awwwwwwwwWWW

32:49 I'm so glad they kept that suspense

33:19 KATE STOP YELLINGGGG

33:38 SWEET KATE

33:45 YES ACKNOWLEDGE YOUR STRENGTHS STICKY

34:23 something about being read a story by Mr. Benedict is so comforting

34:45 🥺🥺🥺🥺

35:00 HERE WE GO MILLIGAN'S MEMORY TALK

35:48 THE PIECE IS KATE AND SHE'S ON THE ISLAND

35:57 fuck everything just give me that dynamic forever

36:29 she decoded it???? Dayummmm

36:32 so what I'm hearing is Constance has sensory overload problems. Fucking LOVE that rep

37:22 STOP YOUR BREATHING HHAHAHAH

38:04 Oh boy, we're already talking about The Improvement??

38:20 A LIST OF HELPERS?????

38:42 WHAAAAA

39:26 so what I'm hearing is, Mr. Benedict also feels as though if he sleeps in he'll miss something

40:00 traps traps traps traps

40:49 WHAT DOES RED MEAN, WHAT DOES RED MEAN

42:11 Kate overthinking everything 🥺

42:26 tetherball?? I love that that and water polo are the sports of choice

43:50 oooh tetherball team, good job Kate

44:49 HAHHAHH

45:29 Connie baby, my love, my child

45:53 Reynie putting himself out there for Constance kills me

46:33 promotion????

46:44 PROMOTIONNNNN I DIDNT THINK IT WOULD HAPPEN THIS SOOOON

47:24 lmaooo she really will never live that one down

47:47 Rhonda spits facts at every opportunity

THAT WAS SO GOOOOOD

#a whisper not a shout #mbs liveblog #mbs disney+#the mysterious benedict society #charity's talkies

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thethistlegirlwrites · 4 years

Text

Whumptober day 30 (Now where did that come from?)

Okay so it’s not all that whumpy but I have been having SO MANY feels about John’s parents the past few days so I ended up writing their first meeting!

Amarillo TX, 1963

Stephen Stoker is supposed to be somewhere else right now.

Technically, he's supposed to be meeting his host family. The Morgans, descendants of the founder of the Amarillo agency, and related to one of the hunters his grandfather immortalized by a different name in his most famous novel, are probably wondering what happened to their wayward houseguest. He's supposed to be here to teach PR strategies. His height isn't the only thing he inherited from Grandpa Bram, he's also an expert at weaving stories that conceal truths hiding in plain sight.

But he can't ignore his instincts, and those instincts have him on the track of what he can only assume is a powerful vampire. He knows he really ought to leave this to the local teams, but the guy got off HIS plane. Slept the whole flight over, aisle seat, grumbled about the windows when he got on, and pulled a fedora down over his whole face. A battered fedora that's seen better days, and had some suspicious stains on the brim. And most damningly, he tucked his carry-on bag under the seat when he sat down. And when he pulled it out, there was a smear of dirt left on the blue carpet.

Air travel has changed the way vampires make their way to new shores. The speed of travel means there's no time for raising suspicion, not even a need to feed on the journey. Vampires have the capacity to spread further and faster than ever. The only issue is the lethargy caused by sunlight, but choosing a flight that arrives in the night avoids that problem entirely.

Still, vampires don't leave home without a purpose. Transporting home earth in small quantities is risky, much riskier than shipping whole boxes. This vampire is here for a meeting of some sort.

And calling for backup could mean letting him get away. Not for the first time, Stephen wishes there was a portable means of communication easily available to hunters. He doesn't have time to stop at a pay phone.

The vampire stops outside a disreputable-looking club on a corner. He says something to the man standing on the corner, a hat pulled low over his face, and the man watching the door nods, letting the vampire pass. Fangs gleam under the streetlights when the man turns back to his vigil, tilting his hat slightly to get a better view of the street.

Stephen ducks into the shadows and considers his next move. He's not sure if he'll even be allowed inside that place. Vampires often like to keep to themselves.

He jumps at the sound of something moving in the alley, before he realizes it's just a cat scavenging. Tough luck for that stray, vampire clubs don't serve real food, just various types of alcohol and lots of blood.

The thought gives him an idea, and he slips back along the alley to where there's a door that most likely was used by the kitchen staff when this place was frequented by humans. Vampires like taking over existing locations. He picks the lock, much harder given that the style is different from the British type he's used to working, and steps into a dark, dusty kitchen.

So far, so good. No one thought to post a guard at the alley door, but there will be one at the door to the main room of the club, he's sure. He peeks through the dusty glass, watching the vampire leaning against the wall on the other side. He isn't sure what he plans to do, exactly. He's carrying only his travel pouch with its shorter stakes and a small amount of powdered garlic in a bag. Hardly enough to make a raid on a whole club. And yet...whatever that vampire came to do, he came a long way. There are plenty of things that shouldn't be changing hands, especially across the ocean.

Stephen is still biding his time when the room outside seems to become slightly brighter. He realizes stage lights have been turned on, and almost as one, every vampire in the room turns, heads fixed on what's now visible even to Stephen's human vision. Taking advantage of the distraction, Stephen pushes the door forward just enough to slip out, grateful that with his height came an awkward lankiness he has yet to grow out of.

Now that he's inside the club, he can see what's attracted the attention of all the vampires. Hosts. Stephen surveys the group of young women, in fashionable dresses with their necks adorned with velvet bands. Most of them look pale, a few have clearly done this before, drawn back most likely by addictions to the vampire bite. Others look fresher, less washed out. Literal new blood.

One by one, they walk to the edge of the stage and down the steps, mingling with the crowd, singling out admirers or being chosen, led away to dark corners or the curtained alcoves designed for the purpose of giving some privacy to a feeding. Stephen makes his way slowly through the crowd. At least the scent of human sweat won't be an immediate reason for every vampire here to turn on him. Even at night, the heat of the Texas desert seems to cling to everything.

Just as he catches sight of the vampire he was following, one hand resting on a leather briefcase set on a table, Stephen stops short. One of the hosts, a short, full-figured young woman with brightly tinted lips, wanders up to the vampire, trailing her brown fingers up his arm. She flips wild dark curls over her shoulder and laughs inanely. Her red dress makes her copper skin seem to glow in the dark club, and Stephen thinks she must be new. Hosts who've been fed on couldn't look that alive.

The vampire looks at the watch on his wrist, then stands up, grabbing his briefcase, looping his free arm around the woman's waist and leading her toward one of the curtained alcoves along the wall. Stephen's seen the same thing many times before; he's a field hunter as well as a PR expert, but something about this situation is different enough to attract his attention.

There's something about the way that host walks. And when he realizes what it is, his own blood seems to freeze. She's wearing flats, not heels, and the rolling, balanced movement of her stride is the kind of walk that every hunter knows.

He follows at a distance. He doesn't want to interfere in her hunt, she's most likely planned this carefully, and any change in her plans could get her killed. He waits as casually as he can beside the alcove where she's disappeared, pretending he's just another vampire waiting for a turn.

There's a sudden snarling scuffle from the area near the stage, probably a couple of vampires fighting over a host. At the sound, the curtain parts slightly and the young woman peeks out, only inches from Stephen's shoulder.

She jumps and looks up, her hand coming up with a silver knife in it, the blade smeared with a hint of blood in the groove. Stephen raises his hands. "Not a vamp." He smiles enough to show his teeth. She relaxes, lowering the knife. When she steps out, there's a handful of folded papers, stained with red, in her other hand. Stephen is sure that's what was in the briefcase.

Her velvet choker is gone, but there's a thin silver chain that must have been tucked up underneath it, and a medal that Stephen recognizes from some of the Catholic hunters at his home agency. The incredibly obscure St. Marcellus, patron saint of vampire hunters. He wonders if she was wearing it under the choker. That would be one hell of a dramatic reveal.

She takes a step toward the kitchen door, and Stephen follows. She must have planned to use his entrance as her exit strategy. It's as good as any. She frowns at him, but waits until they've both slipped through the door to the alley to say anything.

"What are you doing following me?" She whispers, her knife held with a dangerous casualness that Stephen knows could have it at his throat in a breath. "I don't have a shadowing student right now. So talk fast, or I'll throw you back to those vamps inside."

"I'm not here for you. I'm..." He frowns, running a hand through his red curls. It's hard to explain. "I came here to teach a class at the Academy, but there was a vampire on my flight. The one you just killed. I was following him to find out what he was doing coming all the way from London."

The woman raises an eyebrow. "One of my informants told me a courier with letters from Grigoras himself was coming into town." She tucks the papers into her dress. "We've intercepted the recipient already."

Stephen feels a chill slip down his spine. Grigoras. One of the First Circle, who is rumored to have followed Dracula to England but has never been seen in person there. He can only imagine what dangerous secrets those letters might hold.

"You say you're here to teach at the Academy? I can give you a ride back." The woman slips the knife back into a sheath concealed in her wide belt, then holds out her hand. "Sonora Morgan."

It looks like he's met his host family after all.

"Stephen Stoker." She blinks, probably in recognition of the name, and maybe also realizing that he's the instructor her family agreed to board.

There's a sound from inside the club, and Sonora tenses. "We should go." Someone's probably found the body. She leads him down the alley, cutting through a side street to a dimly-lit road with a few vehicles parked along it, and even fewer lights in the houses.

She slides into a heavily modified '36 Ford coupe whose dark-blue paint blends into the shadows, turning it over and pulling away from the curb with a screech of tires almost before Stephen's closed his door (he temporarily forgot that the drivers here sit on the left side of the car and was very confused). The engine roars, clearly a high-performance upgrade from the original model. He's heard that American hunters have a flair for creating their own specially modified vehicles.

"Sorry I walked into your hunt," He apologizes as the car speeds along toward the edge of the city.

"Sorry I threatened to let those vamps drain you," she replies with a genuine smile, effortlessly whipping the car around a turn seconds before the light changes. "Not the best first impression of someone you're about to spend two months in the same house with."

He grins, feeling the wind whipping through the open windows of the car turning his hair into a hopeless mess. "On the contrary. You're everything I would have expected from a Morgan." He's always loved the stories Grandpa Bram told about the daring, chivalrous Texan, and now he's met a relative of that man in the flesh.

"Oh really?" Her smile is the kind that says she takes that as a challenge. "Well, we'll see about that."

Taglist: @nade2308 @cmvorra @bands-space-and-monsters-oh-my @catwingsathena @asloudasalone @anguishmacgyver @flowing-river24 @myhusbandsasemni @floh673 @teddythecat1234 @bkworm4life4 @viawrites-andacts

#whumptober 2020 #now where did that come from #magic & silver #stephen stoker #sonora morgan #day 30 actually #I'm not tracking this week

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adrischrv · 4 years

Text

REGNUM [L.H] - Chapter 3

Author´s note: Hi! Here´s the third chapter! English is not my first language so lemme know if there are any mistakes.

Word count: 2,902

Introduction. C1. C2.

The morning after the ball was quiet. The lack of Queen Susan’s joyful life was as strange as the King’s laughter and everyone in the palace could feel it. Even, though I only knew them for a short time. I remembered finding my mother talking on the phone with the Queen about nonsense to serious business matters, I was infinitely grateful to the Queen for taking my mother away from a couple of lessons.

Gardenstone has a particular way of saying goodbye to its loved ones: people would write a word describing such people on an acorn, they would gather and water them all over the forest. A nice old lady explained to me that different trees sprouted like the oak tree and when they grew up a person was also born with the written word in a way that reflected the impact you have on the world even after you die. She could assure me that people with good intentions would come out of the words of Queen Susan, King Robert, and Prince Jake.

“Fifty delivered and about… sixty more arrived.”

Luke nodded, tired. I left the piles of papers on the big desk in front of him and took a seat on the other side.

After he had been appointed King and after the farewell, thousands of petitions from citizens and nobles had arrived in the early hours waiting to be authorized. Seeing the load of papers, I offered to help Luke and avoid the collapse of my neighboring country. My mother decided to do the same on her own by talking to the dukes and duchesses who feared for the future of Gardenstone as it was justly uncertain.

“I slept for two hours… and everyone wants me to approve petitions, I don’t understand why.”

Luke had spoken more to himself, but that didn’t stop me from laughing a little.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, paying attention for the first time all morning.

“Of course they want you to approve petitions. They’re taking advantage. Since your father, may he rest in peace, is no longer the king, they expect you to approve everything he didn’t. But I hope you have not approved many, parliament will have a lot to discuss and it will probably be exhausting.”

Luke was stunned, looking for the right way to hide his inexperience.

“It’s parliament’s job, exhausting or not.”

“They wouldn’t give the same importance to every role and something important might be disapproved of or something unimportant might be approved, it’s risky.”

“If you know so much, why don’t you do it?”

Clearly, the regulation of his tone had a flaw causing it to come out more aggressively than planned.

“It would be a pleasure. I firmly believe that I can do it better than you, Your Majesty.”

Luke let go of the pen in his hand and crossed his arms. If I didn’t think it was funny I’d say he was trying to be intimidating but suddenly he relaxed his gaze.

“I’d like to check that out. Oh, and also about approving petitions, princess.”

I clenched my fists but like him I relaxed my gaze, ready to give an intelligent answer.

“I’m sorry I dared to think I was talking to a king, when it is clear the long road you have to be considered one.”

The slamming of the door interrupted Luke from saying - surely - something stupid.

“Busy, Your Majesty?”

Calum’s brown hair peeked out, smiling at the sight of me.

“Go ahead, did you get any sleep, Cal?”

Calum snorted at Luke’s question, taking a seat next to me at the desk, and took an exhausted stance, dropping his hands down his pants.

“Are you kidding? Mom keeps calling, I had to turn off my Jhin just like Dad. Who, by the way, sent me to find out if you had authorized his request.”

The “Jhin”, modern devices from cell phones that had the option to call among other things, and characterized by a function that allowed an easy finding of information about any individual, in the past there were social networks that were eliminated in the International Revolution and changed by the Jhin.

“You find it in this rubble and I’ll authorize all the requests you want” Luke sighed leaning back in his seat and pointing to the papers in front of him.

Calum looked at him sorrowfully, none of them in the mood. Said and done, Calum managed to find the petition he recognized by the notorious “H” for “Hood” in one corner of the paper, leaving it on top of all the others.

Luke took it, signed it without hesitation, and took a second to read.

“You should read it and then sign it, you know?” Calum mentioned, gaining the satisfaction I hoped to get from correcting Luke.

“You have my absolute trust, you know?” Luke replied in the same tone without taking his eyes off the document, opened his big eyes, and handed it to Calum who accepted it immediately. “Are you my Diplomatic Adviser? What about your father?”

“After what happened last night, he thinks it’s time for me to take his place. I would eventually, but it seems to him that I need to be by your side now to support you and test my training,“ Calum replied, noting the anguish in his friend’s expression.

I had nothing to say so I got up and directed my interest to the books on the shelves pretending not to pay attention.

“I suppose your father went with your mother to his village…”

“You guess right,” Calum paused for a moment. “Hey, I know you’re not well. It must be hard to lose your family… I can’t imagine waking up without my parents and my sister… but you’re not alone, I’m here if you need to talk.”

Luke smiled sideways, quietly accepting his proposal.

“You need to take a break, it’s all happening so fast,“ Calum said, almost reading his mind. “The kingdom needs you to be in good shape.”

Frustrated Luke rose from his seat to sit in the corner of the desk.

“I don’t know what else the kingdom needs, and that will be your first task. Also, stop sending in paperwork, close down the possibility of sending in a petition until further notice.”

I was going to tell him how reckless it was to shut down the arrival of petitions but I finally stopped to think about the matter I had provisionally ignored: I had no power in Gardestone and I didn’t know what was going to happen to the alliance.

“His Majesty, His Highness, young Hood” A guard appeared at the door with cards in hand which he dealt to the three of them. “Their Majesties King Ashton and Queen Lauren of Lauxwell would like you to attend a dinner they have arranged for themselves tonight.“

“Are those harpies still in my palace?” Luke raised an eyebrow. The poor guard did nothing but nod. “Get rid of them. I want them out.”

“Are you crazy?” exclaimed Calum, clearing his throat as he realized the mistake he had just made. “I mean, are you sure you want the Irwins out? As your royal advisor, I don’t think it’s true to your word, your majesty. King Ashton won the duel and the terms-”

Luke raised a hand to stop Calum from talking.

“Guard, I need privacy, if it’s not too much trouble…”

The Guard bade farewell with a bow.

“You too, Princess,” said Luke, “you can request as many maids as you need for tonight, but that’s no reason for you to stay here another second.”

I blinked uncertainly as to how to respond to his insinuation… or insult. I was still debating what was most appropriate.

“Did I not make myself clear? -Or would you rather stay here and stare at me a little longer?”

“I can’t ask my eyes to meet this turtle,” I answered, in the most pleasant tone I could find and advanced to the door.

“Are you sure? I can turn around if you need to,“ I heard him scream from the hall.

Halfway down the hall, I decided that I had to set certain limits for “his majesty” if I was going to live with him and his insufferable attitude for one more second. With that in mind, I changed my direction back to the office and stopped short when I heard my name in the conversation.

“-I’m serious, Cal Amberly is unbearable!”

Eavesdropping had never been something I enjoyed, much less needed. I knew there was nothing good about it… and yet I stuck my back to the wall outside the office.

“-the whole kingdom is depressed. Just by spreading the word about Princess of Maredale’s temporary stay they have begun to produce the best quality products, the children went out to play again” Calum debated. “Your people feel the comfort they have not received from their king.”

“Is that what they want? Miss “I got a lesson in something important” and “I can run a country on my own”?” Luke asked, trying to imitate my voice. “Nonsense! I bet she can’t choose which well-known book to read without help, so many classes have been useless if she can’t speak for herself and waits for her mother to do all the work for her. A babbler! that’s what she is. Even that Ashton idiot has more courage than she does.”

I thought I’d walk through that door to tell him how wrong he was. I could even make a scene and choose to tear all of his fine clothes into pieces that would be scattered all over the palace.

But I didn’t. Because deep down I knew he was right.

I spat cautiously. My eyes were threatening to drop the tears.

“Please, Luke. You don’t know what you’re saying,“ Calum replied. “Queen Elizabeth is going to be back any minute and I don’t think she’d like to hear the way you express about her daughter.“

“If the Queen does anything, it will only show what a coward the Princess is.”

Without realizing it, I was walking with a strong step to my room.

Luke was telling the truth, what was the point of taking classes and lectures if I couldn’t speak for myself?

Ashton had said it too, though much more subtly. He implied that I could take charge of my destiny and it must not be like my mother had planned all along.

Courage- I didn’t have it. I wanted to find it and show it off like a new toy, but that’s not how it works.

“Princess, I was looking for you.”

Lidia interrupted my walk into the room, looked into my eyes that were probably already a little red and wet. She gave me a warm smile and took my hands and led me into the room. I sat down on the edge of the bed and talked, holding back my sobbing.

“Lidia, I was about to do the same thing, but…”

She hissed as her hands were lost in the closet.

“Quiet, from the look of your beautiful face I can tell you heard something…”

Lidia stood in front of me with a bright ruby red dress in her hands, a golden ribbon, the colors of the Gardenstone, all around. The silk fabric adjusted perfectly to my body, falling to my feet with a discreet opening at the side of my right leg; the waves of my hair embraced me. Suddenly it did not seem that I had been crying for the fool that the King was.

“….and by the look of you in this dress, I can tell you will shut the same mouths that said something about you.”

The main dining room shone on its own even though the green decoration was quite noticeable, it looked like Christmas. The red walls looked soft, smooth, and warm, I liked to think that and the spruce chairs had been Queen Susan’s idea. In the center I expected a long table with food, a lot of exquisite food, I didn’t think I had seen those delicacies before, I assumed they were typical of Lauxwell. Around the table, the guests - mostly servants of the palace - had already begun to enjoy the food, while the nobles were talking and eating slowly.

I took a breath, looked up, and entered the dining room.

Lauren saw me first, smiled for a second, and went on with her meal. At her side, Ashton adjusted his tie and looked at me for a few seconds directly in the eyes as if he wanted to tell me something. My mother, who had returned from her talks, nodded approvingly. Calum took his attention off a plate, looked at me, and elbowed Luke. Luke did not flinch.

“Sorry I’m late, go on with your dinner.“

“Princess, please sit next to me.” Ashton stood up, offering a chair.

“No, sit next to me.” Luke did the same. “You are a guest in my kingdom, after all.“

They shared a challenging look, Luke just wanted to annoy Ashton and have the satisfaction of being able to ignore me all night.

Luke’s eyes were fixed on me, seeking a truce not to favor Ashton.

“I am flattered, your Majesties,” I smiled innocently, “but I find the company of King Ashton more… appropriate.”

I took a seat next to Ashton. He politely placed a glass of red wine in my hands, for a moment our fingers brushed and I felt my cheeks warm slightly.

“Your Majesty Luke,” called my mother, “I am proud to report that all the dukes and duchesses are now calm again in their respective states. I have said some flattering things about you…”

“Thank you, your maje-”

“I hope I’m not wrong…”

I looked for my mother’s look on the other side of the table along with the opportunity to tell her that she was wrong, so wrong…

“I hope my daughter has contributed something today.”

Too late to talk about Luke.

I alerted the blond man’s intentions, as dirty as mine a few seconds ago. He had the luxury of taking a sip of red wine before responding.

“I found the company of Princess Amberly a bit… “ He looked me straight in the eye “…Comfortable.”

I took a bite of my food, waiting for him to cut off eye contact. He didn’t. The urge to stick something into those blue eyes increased with every second…

“If you find it so comfortable I can suggest that you keep it with you for a while longer.”

My mother’s words not only interrupted the discreet discussion between our eyes but also took us both by surprise.

“What do you mean by that, Mother?” I asked.

“I am going back to Maredale, and seeing first-hand the opportunities you have at Gardenstone to demonstrate your potential, I think it is necessary for you to stay here. If His Majesty Luke approves, of course.”

“Of course I approve, Queen Elizabeth. It will be a real… pleasure.”

I didn’t look at Luke, I didn’t look at anyone. I released all frustration of such a decision at the plate in front of me.

Lauren told a story about a night she had decided to stand guard at a volcano on the Lauxwell border near a funeral home. She described it as a bleak, lifeless place too cold for even the heat of the lava to drive away. A giant beast with big legs and a wet muzzle with traces of blood was found, a wolf big enough for her to have faced it alone… but she had done it, she had hunted the beast and divided the skin among her friends in her kingdom. There was something so horrific about her story that made it interesting and kept us all at the table expectant and eager to hear more.

Throughout the dinner I felt an extra pair of eyes on me, I had the luxury of finding the owner, and the simple fact that they belonged to a certain self-centered brat brought a smile to my face.

“-that’s how I took my father to the bandits who threatened the kingdom. They will rot forever, end.” She took her cup up and drank it to the bottom. Everyone around her applauded, sighs of relief and fear sounded as well.

“Thank you, sister. With these stories full of courage, we thank you for attending this dinner.”

Ashton extended a hand indicating to the servants to leave the dining room nicely, some stopped and thanked him, others took leftovers from the table mistakenly hidden between napkins and took them away.

“Ridiculous, we have never forbidden them to eat. I guess we’ll have to start.“

Luke mumbled to Calum, he laughed but his face was afraid, he thought Luke was capable of it.

Seconds later the two left the dining room followed by Lauren who walked with her head held high despite being under the influence of alcohol. I admired her in silence.

A black hair stood in my way, accompanied by a wide smile.

“Amberly, would you accompany me on a night walk in the gardens?”

“Of course.”

Our arms intertwined, I tried not to blush at the sudden closeness as we got lost in the garden with the moon guiding our every step.

#5SOS #5 seconds of summer #5sosfanfic #luke hemmings #luke hemmings fanfiction #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings series #luke fanfic #king!luke #readregnum #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fanfic #michael clifford fanfic #calum hood fic #michael clifford #calum hood #5sosfam

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

The Next Best Australian Record - Harold x Reader (Adore)

GIF CREDIT: X Cruel Summer / Magnets

Author’s Note: I like blaming my fics on peoples influences - this one is totally on @mendelskrull - no take backs!! 😉😉

@sufferthesea thank you for staying with this series, 2 & 3 wouldn’t have happened without your support and, of course, this song is yours 😊 Lana Del Ray - The Next Best American Record

Disclaimer: Adore characters and plot not mine / once again I’ve made it far more convoluted! / gifs not mine / lyrics not mine

Premise: Now you’re back at University you can both let this affair breathe. But what happens when Harold returns home for the weekend, does what happens in Sydney stay in Sydney?

Words: 5054

Warnings: sexual connotations / small swears / May-December Romance / Student-Teacher Relationship

_______ My baby used to dance underneath my architecture To the Houses of the Holy, smokin' on them cigarettes My baby used to dance underneath my architecture He was cool as heck He was cool as heck

My baby used to dance underneath my architecture He was '70s in spirit, '90s in his frame of mind My baby used to dance underneath my architecture We lost track of space We lost track of time And we were so obsessed with writing the next best American record That we gave all we had 'til the time we got to bed 'Cause we knew we could We were so obsessed with writing the next best American record 'Cause we were just that good It was just that good Whatever's on tonight, I just wanna party with you Topanga's hot tonight, I'm taking off my bathing suit You made me feel like there's something that I never knew I wanted It's you, all the roads lead to you Everything I want and do, all the things that I say It's true, all the roads lead to you Like the 405 I drive through Every night and every day I see you for who you really are ---

Three weeks had passed by exceedingly slow, although you really had managed to get going on your work with no outside distractions. Your friends had thrown one last beach party before you all packed up and headed off, but drinking only led to yearning – so it made you pretty relieved that you had no number to shamelessly drunk text. The university friends you’d been keeping in touch with over the break we’re all itching see each other again, and you couldn’t wait to return to the house you’d been renting together and class, at least some of you we restless for classes to begin. You most of all, for obvious reasons. It would be so great to be with all of them again and gain a little more of your independence. The only real adult influence in your life would be your… uhm… Well, that was the thing, you didn’t exactly know what you were supposed to call him. So you would hold that thought. Your schedule came through and you were already desperate to get back in the classroom and see Harold again. Part of you wanted to email him as soon as you reached Sydney, but you knew it was best to settle in and figure it all out before you resumed seeing him. Besides, it was going to be much more dangerous for him out there. Sure, if you’d been caught here there’d be a lot of questions and falling out; not that you didn’t think you wouldn’t be spiteful enough to call out his wife and her friend, and drag everyone down with you… but in Sydney he was your lecturer. (Not that he wasn’t at home, but, family friends was a different twist to taking advantage of a student). You knew you’d have to be careful, the last thing you would want was to be responsible for ruining his career… or his life. With your car packed up, you were finally saying goodbye to your parents before you started your long drive. You’d planned out all your breaks and setting off this time of day meant you’d make it in plenty of time and daylight. But they were still trying to check on your schedule, telling you to call them at your break points so they knew where you were and how you were doing. Hugging you and asking you to be careful on the roads, as if you hadn’t done this 200 times before. If you had to say ‘I’ll be fine, I promise!’ one more time you’d likely go insane. What you didn’t expect was to find someone else appear in your driveway to see you off. And he certainly wasn’t someone you would consider a friend. Despite still seeing his father around, you hadn’t actually seen much of Tom since you’d broken up. And even your parents were shocked to see him standing there. “…H…Hey…” You walked over, eyebrow raised, “What’s up?” It was strange to say that you felt a little guilty – had you always been leading him on? Was there ever a time you actually wanted the guy standing in front of you? You couldn’t think like that, not really. Tom was good to you, and you had enjoyed your relationship. Not sorry it was over, but for the way you’d let it end. Plus, if you really thought on it – this man had started it. You’d found out he was cheating on you before you’d so much as touched Harold. “Nothing.” Then he shrugged, “No, maybe that’s a lie. I… I just wanted to say goodbye before you went off to Sydney.” Tom couldn’t quite meet your eyes as he spoke; “I guess I didn’t want to leave things bad between us, y’know? Before you left.” “Oh-!” You could count yourself as surprised, “I… guess I understand that.” “Yeah.” He laughed, “I also wanted to wish you good luck, with your next year.” “Thank you.” You smiled gently, “That’s sweet, you don’t have to.” “So… can we… at least be cool with each other?” You laughed, “I guess.” There was a few moments awkward silence before he cleared his throat, not satisfied to end with that; “How’s the guy working out?” You hoped you had as good a poker face as you thought you did; “Yeah, good.” “Will you see much of him now?” “A little...” You quickly changed subject before he got too deep into the detail; “How’s, uh, how’s the girl... working out?” “Good.... yeah. No, uh, no complaints.” “Good…” You nodded too. And the awkwardness set in again, before he reached out to hug you – and you found yourself in maybe the most awkward ‘exes’ hug in the entire world. “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have-” “Tom it’s okay. Honestly. What happened happened. We’re probably… better off with who we’re with now.” “I guess.” He let you go and you stepped back, with a smile “Take care of yourself. Maybe when I’m back we can catch up!” Although you weren’t sure how serious you were, maybe you’d stop by for his father and just casually catch up with him. Tom’d never know. You waved each other off again and you watched him walk away, with at least a smile that clearing the air really might have been a good idea. It was done; it’d make tension at that house a little lower if you did ever turn up for any reason. “Oh!” He turned, walking backwards down the hill, “Say hi to my dad for me!!” You couldn’t help your smirk, it just appeared instantly, “Oh, I will!” Though you’d be doing a lot more than that. *** For the first few weeks you got settled into your routine, getting a feel for your class schedule and the nuances of moving back in with your best friends. You only had one class with Harold this semester, which you counted as a blessing because you weren’t sure how this was going to work now. Though you already knew you had two classes with him next semester, and that was enough to keep you going on. If you thought sitting in class was good for seeing him, and those little knowing looks he kept flashing you – especially when you happened to answer a question right (c’mon, you were eager to please the man. You’d always been like this in Harold’s class.) – it really had nothing on your friends teasing. They all knew you had a crush on him – that was the last few years of being here and sitting in class, so whilst every right answer had a different meaning now between you and he, your friends sat there with the same little smirks on their faces: ‘Ohhhh! Someone’s got a crush! STILL!’ ‘Seriously? No summer romances to yearn and miss – or does that not do it for you!?’ ‘Oh, we should know Y/N! It’s all about the fantasy!’ ‘Y/N, getting all your answers right won’t get you in his pants-!’ - Well, little did they know! And you weren’t about to bring Tom up; in fact you weren’t even sure anyone knew that Harold usually lived in the same town as you. It certainly wasn’t something you were going to say now; less it help people put two and two together if things got suspicious. When you did start seeing each other again – around the time he gave you your assignments and you went to check on him under the guise of ‘wait can you just go through this one more time-!?’ - it was tentative and slow moving. You supposed out here in Sydney where you didn’t have the rush of summer, or have to sneak around both your families, you could really let the relationship just breathe and be what it would be. You didn’t see him on campus any more than you thought necessary, you tried not to run to him after class unless you had a burning question, so most of the time you would leave him with a sweet goodbye smile instead, and he would give you a gentle nod to bid you a good day. Even in his office you tried to keep it focused on your coursework, that didn’t mean he didn’t hold your hand as he took you through something, and he usually gave you a goodbye kiss before you left. You couldn’t lie that it felt a little strange, considering what you’d been used to back home – it’d never really been this delicate. You weren’t sure you didn’t enjoy this a little more. Still, after spending so much time together this summer, even if it was tangled up in sheets, there was still that need to be closer than the University would ever allow. So he gave you his address. At first you thought that was risky, and wondered what kind of excuse you’d have to give your friends… Although they didn’t seem to mind you heading out for your own purposes. You just made sure to never lie if they did enquire. ”Where you heading?” “Oh! A family friend recently moved to the area. It’d be kinda cool to hang out with them!” And they never questioned more than that.

You actually liked working on your assignments up here, his house was quiet and you got to pressure yourself because he was your teacher and instead of procrastinating you should be getting this done for his class. The assignment was simple enough; you had to design a play (based on the theme he’d set) and then write it’s key scene. Producing an essay on why you’d chosen the elements for the piece that you had. You were just glad this wasn’t one of your performance classes – you could get away with anything in the scene if you didn’t have to perform it yourself. Though you were sure Harold would make one or two of you read a little in tutorials. Maybe you could use your relationship to your advantage; Please for the love of God don’t pick me! You knew he would anyway, though. Whilst you were focused on your writing, when he was here and not on campus teaching, he was also typing away on his own composition. When you were taking a break from your own work you got curious enough to wander over and see what Harold was doing, looping your arms around his neck. “What are you working on?” “Oh…” He clasped your hands in his, “Just a pipe dream. It’s been in the works a loooong time…” “Yeaaah,” You pressed your lips to his cheek, settling your head on his shoulder, “But what is it?” “It’s a play.” “Oh? We’re all working on the same thing-!?” You brightened up, scanning a few lines. Even from what was in front of you, you sensed a familiar theme. “Oh my God!” You couldn’t help but grin as you teased him; “Are you just going to steal our work-!?” He laughed, teasing you back, “No-! That’s not it!” You straightened, look disbelieving as Harold tipped his head back to keep his eyes locked with yours; “Ohhh! It totally is-!” “Well only the good ones-! And you’ll get credit-!” You snorted, “Yeah alright, I’ll remember that when I take you to court for copyright.” He narrowed his eyes, “Thing with you is, I could believe you actually would.” “Nah,” you leant down to kiss him, “If you want to steal my shitty ideas that’s fine with me.” “I’m sure they aren’t that bad!” You slipped from his grip, walking backwards and holding his hand until the last second, with a sharp intake of breath. “I wouldn’t be so sure…!” It couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes until he joined you, and you were biting your lip hard again; “Stop watching me!” “I’m here to help you actually.” “Help?” You raised your head, and then tilted it; “A distraction.” “Ahhhh…” He leant forward and brushed his lips to yours, “I hope a welcome one.” You pulled him back to you by his shirt; “Kiss me again and I’ll tell you.” Eventually you did end up throwing ideas around, sitting in his lap with your notebook as Harold held one arm around your waist, stroking his other through your hair. Both thoughts for his play and your own work – Harold just wanted you to be happy with your idea before he watched you spent all your effort on it. Eventually you thought you had it figured out, at least more than just the bare bones that you’d had before – now it had real structure and detail. Although telling him the detail was a step too far, “Don’t tell me! I want a surprise when I mark it-!” You folded your arms with a pout, “Well you’ve basically just told me your entire storyline! Now I’ll know when I see it!” “It’s a work in progress – It’s changed a million times already.” You settled and cuddled into him, peppering his neck and jawline with kisses as you did; “Well at least promise me that I can read it when you finish it? Maybe I could even be in it by that stage!” He chuckled, pulling you in closer; “You’d be the first I cast-!”

*** As at home, your lover had a house in Sydney that wasn’t too far from the beach. It was Friday morning, and Harold was due to drive back for the weekend. You’d started spending more weekends together, although you wouldn’t get the opportunity this one coming. As you weren’t due in class until much later in the day, after class yesterday (your only period, and also his) you’d headed over here. Whilst your assignment was doing a lot better and might almost be complete, his play was still nowhere near finished. Harold liked to recite pieces to you when you were curled up together, sometimes he’d hand you scenes and ask you to read characters and you couldn’t help but see scary parallels between them and conversations that you’d had with him. “Is this… leading somewhere?” “No.” The hand that wasn’t holding the script traced soft patterns over your stomach, “Why?” Your turned your head to him slowly, “Are they us?” “They… are a culmination of… a lot of relationships.” “They talk like we do.” “In this scene, yeah.” He gave a shrug, “In others they’re Roz… and then relationships past.” You shifted visibly at the mention of her name, but understood what he was saying. It was a look at various relationships through the lens of different life stages. Harold drew you closer to him and kissed your forehead gently, “We can stop.” “No, it’s okay, it’s just- The thought of people seeing this or reading it… I guess it’s all a little scary.” You placed the pages on the table and wrapped your arms around his, caressing Harold’s skin as you pressed kisses into his arms. “I promise you if you don’t want this, I’ll take it out,” He continued to kiss your face and you were already smiling again, “still, it’ll be years from now at the rate it’s going.” He finally reached your lips; “I won’t do this without your permission.” “And yet everyone else doesn’t get a say?” “I think that says a little bit more about you, doesn’t it?” You bit your lip gently, before pulling him in again, “Hush, don’t make me yearn for you now…” On Friday morning he woke you early, and suggested going down to the beach while the weather was still good, and it wasn’t so hot and crowded yet. Harold was right, the presence of anyone else was minimal, and you could keep your hand in his almost the whole time you were together. All you could really do was look at him and wish this could in any way be normal. You hadn’t really been joking with him yesterday, you yearned for this to work out. That one day it wouldn’t matter who saw you together, because it would just be that. You’d be together. A dream, and yet one you would never be sure of lasting. Could it realistically last? Even now, hundreds of miles from home he was still wearing a wedding ring, and you were still aware of the fact that he could be yours and still not be yours. You took a deep breath of sea air and closed your eyes, focusing on his hand in yours. On his voice, already planning your next rendezvous… he wanted to take you on a trip somewhere out of the city. Harold’s attention was all yours, all of it was on you, and you needed to remember that; he knew you needed that. How much you craved it, how important his attention was to you when he was about to leave for home again. You could be adult about the relationship you shared, but he knew your emotions were still that of the 20-something you were. Harold knew how to placate that, and the fact he wasn’t about to drop you because of it showed you nothing more than how important this was to him. Maybe for the first time – even though he’d already stayed through your ‘I love you’ confession. By the time you were back to his, the sun was turning up the heat, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity. He’d barely shut the door before you were all over each other – your hands up in Harold’s hair and his kisses all over you. Yet by the time you were to the bedroom you’d significantly cooled off, and it was sweeter, a little slower. You pulled at the strings of your bathing suit to undress for him teasingly; and as ever Harold was receptive to this by the way he whispered your name. Today he loved on you slow and sweet – and it was everything you’d always wanted. He might have had somewhere to be, but there was no time limit here. Not in the safety of his home miles away from anyone that really knew you. No way to be caught out by friends or significant others (who didn’t treat either of you better anyway). You lay together for a while afterwards too, in the gentle afterglow, talking like you always did; about nothing and everything… Until Harold decided that if he wanted to beat any traffic back home he best be heading off and reality dragged you back – as it always did. You may have had him all to yourself here, and for longer than you ever had before, but it was still never enough. By the time you were out of the shower, washing away the tacky ocean air and the heat of the moment, he was ready to leave. With just a towel wrapped around you as you combed through your hair, he entered the bathroom to kiss you goodbye, winding his strong arms around your waist his kisses grazed the shell of your ear before his moustache scratched your cheek as he kissed you again, making you scrunch your face and giggle. “Okay, I best make a move...” Harold’s hands were on your hips and you knew his hesitation. You weren’t in the mood to help him decide to leave you, and so just kept kissing him. But you had to admit to yourself that you were in two minds. Half of you just wanted him to leave so you could get him back quicker, the other half just wanted him to rip this towel from your body and take you to bed once more before he left. You could make a pretty safe bet that both options were going through his head too. Finally he did let you go and pulled away, you were proud of yourself for not whining at him or looking disappointed, you knew Harold had to go and you would let him. Collecting his things up again, Harold paused and turned back to you by the bedroom door; “Lock up when you leave-!” “I will!” “I’ll be back soon, okay, I’m just collecting a few items and checking in...” “Babe, I know, it’s okay.” And it was. Because despite your envy of that wedding band, it was for nothing but show. “Be good.” You couldn’t help but smirk at him; “I will.” “Work hard!” “Certainly-!” “Especially on my stuff-!” “Yes-! Of course! Now go-! Or you’ll get caught in traffic-!” He nodded, and waved you off with one last blown kiss. You gave it a few seconds, but had to call him back, because you’d forgotten something very important; “Oh! Harry!” (for this was the nickname you had designed for him – even though you didn’t use it so often yet… he was warming to it, you were sure!) Harold turned once more; eyes curious. “I love you.” He chuckled, “I know sweetheart. As you keep telling me.” He left you with a soft wink, and you waited to hear the front door close. Somehow that made you smile more. You knew he still wouldn’t say it, not with that ring on his hand… but you also knew he did love you. That was enough, it had to be enough, you had to let it be enough. All you could do now was wait for him to return to you and you could be patient! And yet, you already couldn’t wait to be back in his arms.

All things considered you’d had an amazing weekend hanging with your friends, and in the late evening sunshine you were all sitting in the lounge. There was a movie on but none of you were paying attention to it, more likely to only pay attention when you wanted to chat shit about it. But you were all chatting shit and spilling tea in general – and you’d really missed this all summer. You were lounging on your stomach across the couch, every so often munching on popcorn with your phone sat next to you. Ah, yes, by now you’d exchanged numbers. It was for emergencies only; and you really did mean emergencies. There was no casual texting of any kind; you still didn’t want anyone to be able to trace this. The trail you would leave would be simple texts that wouldn’t mean a thing to anyone else, nothing risqué… not even an ‘I miss you’… It wasn’t even a burner phone; it was your real mobile. And with nothing to take out of context, and nothing to look bad, how could anyone possibly touch you? ‘HH’ flashed up on your phone screen and suddenly hanging out with your friends no longer became fun. HH – for Henry Holland, a designer with a flair for putting H’s on everything, you thought it was about time you wore some of his stuff. Maybe that was a little too obvious. ‘I’m going to be here longer than I thought.’ A million thoughts flashed into your head, and you realised that you couldn’t ask him about any of them. But it worried you instantly – were things okay? Why did he need to stay longer? You weren’t sure what was going on with his family; and you weren’t close enough with Tom to casually ask him how things were, although that was still a number in your phone. Your thoughts began racing – silly things that shouldn’t even be thought about. Had he made up with Roz? Had it all come out? Someway, somehow and everyone back home was firefighting? No – if that was it you couldn’t imagine it wouldn’t get back to your parents, even out of spite. And then your phone really would be blowing up. Maybe he’d move the family out here? You weren’t sure you could see that working either: you’d only just managed to disentangle yourself from your families. You couldn’t imagine either of you wanted to go back to sneaking around (even though you had to admit there was a certain thrill attached to it). What was happening? And why could you only think of every worst case scenario…!? You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, suddenly feeling very dizzy. “Y/N… Y/N, are you okay!?” Your friends suddenly noticed how quiet you were; not to mention your lack of response to their banter. “Y-yeah…” You put on your best smile and turned your mobile over, “Just, overthinking!” You did eventually send a message back, just ‘Okay’ – because it was okay, it was his life. You could sit and be worried and want to call him but you knew you couldn’t. Neither of you were ready for that motion yet. But you didn’t receive anything else, and your first class of the week with him was taken by a substitute. Which had your friends teasing hitting home a little harder than it should; “HAHA! Y/N! What are you gonna do, you can’t drool for an entire lesson?” “Y/N just lost her eye candy.” “Oh my God guys, shut up!!” You laughed, “I can’t help that our best teacher is also hot---!” “That’s about the only reason you pay any attention!!!” “Oh sorry-!” You folded your arms, “At least I actually pay attention!” Although by the end of the lesson they were all agreeing with you – and this was one of the most boring classes you’d ever had the misfortune of sitting in. It made you miss him terribly. ** News of Harold’s return reached you before his text did. Accidently, of course; you were waiting for your tutor appointment when two other lecturers passed you. “I hear Harold got back last night!” “Oh thank GOD-! We can’t afford another week without him-!” “Should be back in tomorrow…” You were immediately elated, and desperate to see him. So when his text came through in the middle of your next class, you couldn’t help smiling like crazy. ‘Hey, I’m back in town. All good here, how are you?’ ‘Good. I’m fine.’ You chewed your lip, and then sent the next part anyway, ‘I’m glad you’re back… I missed you’ It didn’t receive a reply, you didn’t expect it too – you just needed to say it. The first thing you did when you got back on your laptop was book the first appointment with him you could, which had you flying up the stairs to his office the following morning. He laughed as you had to give yourself a minute to catch your breath, “I’m surprised you didn’t drive up yesterday.” “I just wanted to… let you settle back.” “You needn’t have.” Harold cupped your cheeks and touched his forehead gently to yours; you placed your hands over his, unable to stop beaming as the feel of him close to you once more. “Still, thank you for being so considerate.” You stood like that for a further few seconds, comfortable in each other’s presence before he kissed you. Not in the same way as he usually kissed you goodbye in this office. A real kiss, and removing his hands from your face only made you entwine your fingers with his. But you pulled back from him suddenly – which left him more than just a little surprised. Your eyes were wide by this point. You knew what it felt like to hold hands with him; because you always had to contend with a wedding band. You brought Harold’s hands up, removing your fingers from his – you couldn’t have helped your shocked gasp; he was void of one. “Wait, what-?!” He watched your face very carefully, but couldn’t help but smile himself. There was no point in teasing you with this one. “Divorced. Finalising.” You raised your eyes to his; disbelieving. You didn’t hear that – those words didn’t come from his mouth! And even if they did HOW and WHY!? “Shit, what-!?” Harold laughed, “I mean it’s a long story but, more of a test. Something that might sound like one last chance - I said they could move out here. She doesn’t want to leave. I can’t say that it didn’t feel like it was any damn excuse would do.” He shrugged, “Guess I gave her one.” “Wh…What about Tom?” Despite effectively stealing his son’s girlfriend, Harold still had a good relationship with Tom, you didn’t want that to change for him. “He’s a big kid, seems fine. We talked a lot while I was there. Trust me, I think it’s safe to say we all got what we wanted…” He brushed his lips to yours once more, and wound his arms around you pulling you into a tight embrace. “I knew it was over Y/N, I just had to be sure.” You nodded, “I know. I know; I’m not mad. It’s all over… It feels a little, freer now.” You couldn’t be sure it felt like it quite yet, but one big weight had certainly just been lifted off this relationship. If Harold wasn’t married this was no longer an affair, even if it had started that way. He was now free to be in a caring relationship. You were lucky to be that person. You knew that. You were lucky to be the one in his arms right now that he was telling this too. He was yours and you were gonna do your best to take care of him here. Like he always took care of you. Harold couldn’t help but think, as he held you here - your arms around him, holding him like you’d never let go, on where this could be going. On the prospect of planning and building a future with you. It’d be for the long haul, and it wouldn’t be easy – but it was doable. He could see it. It may take time, but Harold hoped you’d see it to. That eventually you’d be ready to talk about things like that… And suddenly he realised, he could say it, he could say ‘I love you’ out loud. He could tell you just like you told him, and he could mean it – although he always had. You were still young, you had time to figure things out. He tipped your chin up so that he could kiss you once more and you gripped him even tighter. It was all about enjoying this moment right here. Harold didn’t have to start again. He already had all he needed.

---

Thank you for reading! 💙💜

#Adore #harold #Harold x Reader #Adoration #163 #Linzi Writes #Laina #Question: Who is more likely to end up happy... This girl or the one with Phil?#Neither? Both?#Smol Bean Drabbles #Part of me feels this is the last part #Part of me really wants to keep going with these two #But don't really know where I can take them that won't end up with a lot of drama!!!

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arrantsnowdrop · 4 years

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A Dangerous Game - Chapter 3 (Theseus Scamander x OC series)

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Summary: When Victoire McKinnon, one of the wizarding world's most proficient curse-breakers, is asked to assist and protect the Ministry of Magic's Auror Department in their crusade against Grindelwald, she finds herself stuck working with the extremely annoying, exceptionally good looking Theseus Scamander.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence and death, 2,674 words

..........

“He’s just so rude, Thea, I don’t understand how anyone could be so rude,” Victoire seethed, reaching out to grab a lengthy looking novel from the bookshelf in front of her. She plopped it down on top of the other two books she was already holding.

“He’s probably unnerved,” Anthea Barrows replied reassuringly. The two had been best friends at Hogwarts, both sorted into Gryffindor, both hired by Gringotts right after graduation. Anthea left her position as a Curse-Breaker a year ago to work as a full time professor at the Uagadou School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where she taught the interpretation of ancient runes.

Victoire worked there part time (still being heavily involved in the excavations Gringotts was conducting in Japan), teaching a few classes about ancient magical civilizations.

“I literally cannot deal with him, he somehow gets on every nerve in my entire body,” Victoire admitted, eyes scanning the shelves for any other books that could be of assistance.

Earlier that day, she’d discovered a vase enchanted with a vanishing spell while investigating a case with Theseus; the vase was likely the cause of three seasoned Aurors disappearing spontaneously during an assignment, but unfortunately, Victoire had absolutely no idea how to un-vanish them. She’d apparated to Uagadou immediately after work to search their large library for any helpful material, and Anthea had volunteered to help.

“I’m sure he’s just insecure Travers called in someone for assistance,” Anthea replied calmly, grabbing a book and adding it to her own pile. “He probably would’ve been annoyed with anyone in your position, so don’t take it too personally.”

“It’s like he enjoys making me mad,” Victoire grumbled, turning to face Anthea. “He’s always got this stupid grin on his face, like he knows he’s being a prick.”

“Ooh, he’s teasing you,” Anthea joked, wiggling her eyebrows. Victoire made a gagging noise and grimaced. “Is he hot?”

“Like the fucking sun,” Victoire muttered, picking up a dark blue book and inspecting it closely.

“You always get to work with beautiful men, it simply isn’t fair to me,” Anthea stated, turning around and beginning to walk towards the checkout desk.

“This is literally the first man my age I’ve ever worked with!” Victoire laughed, following her closely.

“Still more than me,” Anthea grinned.

“I’m gonna try to ignore him, though,” Victoire said. “I won’t let him break my resolve.”

“If he’s hot that’ll be pretty much impossible,” Anthea replied honestly. “Is he tall?”

“Yes.”

“Nice hair?”

“Definitely, he’s got that like unruly yet refined look going on, very swoopy,” Victoire remarked.

“Wow, what a catch!” Anthea remarked as they dropped their books on the head librarian’s desk.

“It’s such a pity he’s an asshole,” Victoire said mournfully.

“Oh, Miss McKinnon, it’s so lovely to see you again!” the elderly head librarian said happily, opening the book on the top of the pile to sign it out.

“I’ve only been away for a few days, Mrs. Hinde,” Victoire laughed.

“A few days too many, my dear,” Mrs. Hinde replied, smiling warmly.

“Victoire’s working at the Ministry now, Mrs. Hinde,” Anthea said.

“Is that so?”

“Yea, I’m helping solve a crime, very thrilling stuff,” Victoire added. Mrs. Hinde laughed.

“I would tell you to be careful, but considering what you do for a living, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” the older woman replied.

“I don’t know, fourteen Aurors have gone missing, seems a little risky,” Victoire said honestly.

“And I’m certain you’re far more capable of handling yourself than all fourteen of them,” Mrs. Hinde said genuinely, handing her a list of the books she’d checked out.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hinde,” Victoire replied.

“You just return these whenever you get the chance, dearie, have a lovely time in London!” she called, turning to greet the next library patron.

“I love that woman,” Victoire said to Anthea, sliding the stack of books into her worn bag.

“She’s one of the nicest people here, and that’s saying something, since everyone is nice here,” Anthea reflected. Victoire chuckled and hoisted her bag on her shoulder.

“I shall hopefully return in less than two weeks,” she said in a jokingly posh tone. “Do tend to any affairs that may arise in the meantime.”

“Of course, madame,” Anthea replied in an equally prissy voice, bowing deeply. The pair burst into a fit of quiet laughter and hugged tightly.

“Please be safe, Tor,” Anthea whispered.

“I will,” Victoire reassured, stepping back and offering her friend a bright smile before apparating back to London.

~~~~~

Two days later, Victoire was back in Theseus’s office, still sitting in the maroon armchair in the corner of the room. She had put in a request for her own desk space, which thankfully was granted fairly quickly, and her many books and papers were now scattered over its surface. She’d tried to ignore the remarks Theseus made about her poor organization skills.

“The Revelio Charm can be used to reveal the true appearance of a person who has changed their appearance using magic,” Victoire said, reading out loud from one of the books she had checked out.

Theseus hummed, not looking up from the report he was reading about a recent attack in London. One of Grindelwald’s followers (who unfortunately had not been identified) had murdered five people in broad daylight, two of whom were muggles. The Ministry had been in a tizzy trying to erase the non-magical community’s memory of the event.

“Does entering a state of nonbeing count as changing one’s appearance?” Theseus inquired. Victoire looked up at him, surprised he’d been paying attention.

“I don’t know, but I’m putting it on the list of spells that could possibly work,” she replied, scribbling a few notes down on a messy-looking piece of parchment.

“The three wizards who were killed seem to have nothing in common,” he noted, setting the report aside.

“Is that a good thing?” she asked. He nodded.

“It means they aren’t targeting specific groups of people yet,” he clarified.

“Yet?” Victoire questioned warily. Theseus nodded.

“These attacks are going to get more frequent and more brutal as Grindelwald gains power. It’s only a matter of time before he starts going after different lots of us to incite more fear,” he said dryly.

“Who do you think is most at risk?” she asked softly.

“Aurors,” Theseus said, looking up at her with tired eyes. “But we’ve already been seeing that. Anyone who works with muggles or deals with muggle affairs, or who has something he could use.”

Victoire nodded, sinking further into her seat. Theseus sighed, picking up another report from a stack of unread documents.

“Gringotts has been discussing what we’ll do if Grindelwald attacks,” she said reluctantly, interrupting the silence. Theseus looked up at her, a little surprised, but gestured for her to go on.

“The vaults have a lot of objects we’ve found over the years but haven’t been able to remove curses from,” she continued. “Most of them are under ancient spells we have no written record of, and of course we’re working on undoing the enchantments, but it’s time consuming and difficult.”

Theseus nodded.

“Anyways, we had a meeting a few weeks ago, and the main point was that Grindelwald would probably be able to use many of them to his advantage if he got his hands on them.”

“What are you going to do to prevent that?” Theseus asked genuinely.

“Upping security a lot, starting in a few weeks we’re halting most expeditions and excavations and reassigning people to guard vulnerable sites or the vaults themselves,” Victoire explained.

“And if Grindelwald targets them?”

“We’re supposed to defend them or die trying.”

A pause.

“I’m sorry, it’s not really relevant,” Victoire started, but Theseus shook his head.

“No, don’t apologize, Grindelwald is affecting all of us right now and it’s better to talk about it than try to pretend it isn’t happening,” he said. Victoire nodded, a little shocked he hadn’t criticized Gringotts or curse-breaking yet.

“Are you scared?” he asked.

“About what?”

“The worst possibilities, I guess,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m not afraid of dying, if that’s what you’re getting at,” she said, biting her lip thoughtfully. “I’ve almost died many times, and I think that’s why I’m not scared of that happening anymore.”

“I’m bloody terrified of dying,” Theseus exclaimed with a laugh. Victoire grinned.

“It’s what might happen if I die that scares me,” she admitted. “I know they’re going to reassign me to guard one of the main vaults, so if I die that means Grindelwald is going to have access to a bunch of dangerous shit. I think that’s terrifying.”

“Could you destroy the items in the vault? Or would that be more dangerous than just letting them be?” Theseus questioned. Victoire shrugged.

“I have moral issues with destroying any of the artifacts, but I don’t think that’s a possibility. Those curses are strong as fuck, regular spells won’t break them,” she said, stretching her arms over her head.

“You swear a lot,” Theseus chuckled.

“Sorry,” Victoire replied, grinning bashfully and redirecting her attention to the book in front of her. Up until this point she hadn’t shared any information about her job or personal life, and she was pleasantly surprised Theseus hadn’t made fun of her.

A comfortable silence fell over the room, interrupted only occasionally by the sound of Theseus’s quill or Victoire flipping a page in her book.

Suddenly, Victoire gasped and stood up abruptly. Theseus’s head shot up, expression laced with concern.

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, eyes fixed on the book in front of her.

“Are you alright?” Theseus asked seriously. Victoire laughed and nodded, looking up at him with a wide smile on her face.

“Homenum Revelio, or the Human-presence-revealing Spell, can be used to indicate hidden bodies in the surrounding environment to the spell’s caster,” she said excitedly.

“That spell is usually used on people who have made themselves invisible somehow,” Theseus said, quite familiar with Homenum Revelio in his line of work.

“Yes, but it says here that in 1763, someone used it to reveal a person who accidentally cast the vanishing charm on themselves!” she continued, pacing around the room.

“Does it say whether or not that un-vanished the person?” Theseus asked.

“I’m assuming it didn’t, since this spell only shows where hidden things are, rather than unmasking them,” she said, “but this could help us find where the three Aurors’ presences are-”

“And that could help us figure out where to cast the actual revealing spell,” Theseus finished. “That’s genius!”

“I know!” Victoire squealed, jumping around in place. “Now we just have to figure out what spell to use after this one, and we’re basically all set!”

“How do we do that?”

“Since it seems like the event from 1763 is a recorded case, I’m going to try to figure out what they did back then,” she said, spinning around to face Theseus. Her brows knit together in confusion.

“What?” she asked. Theseus tilted his head to the side.

“What do you mean, what?” he asked.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she clarified.

“I’m not staring at you!” Theseus said defensively.

“You just were!” Victoire accused.

“I most certainly was not!”

“You most certainly were!”

“Oh, fuck off,” Theseus hissed as he looked back down at the papers on his desk, cheeks tinged with a light pink.

Victoire laughed and returned to her seat, setting the book back down on top of her desk.

~~~~~

It was two in the morning. Victoire had read through two books and over twenty ministry reports but had found no information on the case from 1763. She was thoroughly frustrated.

The original footnote referenced a newspaper article that she’d found with ease, but it offered little information and didn’t say whether or not the person was ever un-vanished.

Victoire had discovered that the wizard’s presence was detected near the place the vanishing spell had been cast, meaning the three Aurors would probably be found back at the house on Chester Street. Other than that, she had nothing.

She yawned and stood up from her chair, throwing the report she’d been reading onto the floor haphazardly. Short-Snout hooted cheerfully from where he was resting on Victoire’s bed.

“I’m glad one of us is happy,” she muttered sarcastically, walking to the kitchen for another cup of tea.

She just wanted to finish coming up with a plan as soon as possible. Then, she could get the Ministry’s approval, execute a rescue mission, and move on to the next case. There were eleven more missing Aurors that needed to be found, and though Theseus had become more tolerable to work with, she was beginning to miss her normal job.

Of course, had she not had to work with the Ministry, she’d be on vacation right now. She was still annoyed about that.

The kettle was just starting to boil when Victoire heard something bounce off her window. She jumped, and peered outside cautiously, seeing a large Grey Owl perched on her windowsill with an envelope in its beak.

She shakily opened the window, and the owl hopped inside energetically, dropping the envelope in front of her.

“You just scared the shit out of me,” she said, glaring at the bird sitting on her countertop. She turned the envelope over in her hands and rolled her eyes at the Ministry seal on the back.

She ripped open the letter and shook its contents out onto the island. There were two pieces of paper, one handwritten and the other typed. She picked up the handwritten letter and squinted at it in the dim lighting.

Miss McKinnon-

I had to go through the Ministry Records today after work to find something for a colleague, and I stumbled upon a file I thought you might find interesting. Enclosed is the official report of the 1763 Vanishing Spell mishap, I’m sure you’ll find it useful in your research.

I asked your brother for your address, since you said you wanted to try and finish your analysis of the situation tonight. I figured you’d rather have the report now than wait until tomorrow morning.

Also, sorry in advance for anything my owl knocks over. Bentley has always been a bad houseguest, and you have my permission to throw him out your window if he starts misbehaving. He’ll know to come home and won’t take personal offense.

Cordially,

Theseus Scamander

Victoire found herself grinning by the time she had finished reading Theseus’s letter. She glanced into her bedroom where Bentley and Short-Snout were hopping around on the floor. The larger owl didn’t seem to be causing any ruckus yet, so she figured she’d let him stay for a little while.

She picked up the Ministry report, eyes lighting up when she saw it revealed the end of the case.

“Fuck yes,” she whispered excitedly, grabbing a spare quill from off the counter to underline the many spells the report mentioned.

It seemed the friends of the vanished wizard had tried many different spells to bring him back, but most of them didn’t work. She groaned as she read the list of nonfunctional spells, realizing most of the research she’d done would be ineffective.

As she neared the end of the report, she was beginning to lose hope - perhaps her efforts were futile, perhaps the effects of the Vanishing Spell were truly irreversible.

She bit her lip as she began to read the last paragraph, hoping desperately for some sort of revelation:

In a final attempt to rescue their friend from the state of nonbeing, the wizards asked Professor Ptolemy Algernon, Order of Merlin (First Class) for assistance. Professor Algernon resolved the issue within a matter of seconds; after locating the victim’s presence in the room, he cast a strong Summoning Charm (using the traditional incantation followed by the victim’s name). Following a bright flash of light, the vanished wizard appeared in a fit of coughing and shouting. Medical examiners declared him to be in perfect physical condition, and though he seems undoubtedly traumatized, he is fine otherwise.

Victoire really wanted to be annoyed with her older brother for giving out her address, but all she could think about was how grateful she was for Theseus sending her the report. Finally, she had cracked the case.

~~~~~

“So you’re saying all we need to do is Accio them back into existence?” Theseus asked incredulously as he walked across the Atrium. Victoire, who was at least a foot shorter than him, was nearly jogging to keep up. They had both needed to return the reports they’d checked out, and were now heading back to Theseus’s office.

“Apparently,” she replied, a little breathy due to how fast she was walking. “Ptolemy Algernon was listed in one of the books I had at home, and it seems he used the Summoning Charm to summon people quite often.”

“I thought you couldn’t Accio living things,” Theseus said. “I’m pretty sure that was a question on my O.W.L.s.”

“Then you definitely got that question wrong, there are several records of wizards summoning farm animals during the Middle Ages,” she stated, following him into a lift.

“That would explain why I only got an Acceptable on my Charms O.W.L.,” Theseus chuckled, pressing the button for level two. Victoire grinned, stepping closer to him as several other wizards entered the lift.

“Doesn’t the Ministry want all its Aurors to be more than proficient in their spell-casting abilities?” Victoire teased, swaying slightly as the lift began its ascent.

“Luckily, I got fantastic results on my N.E.W.T.s,” he sassed, reaching out to steady her, “so as far as my employers are concerned, my qualifications are impeccable.” Victoire laughed, looking down to where his hand now rested on her upper arm. He followed her gaze, quickly returning his arm to his side. She felt her face flush, and made sure to keep her face fixed downwards.

The lift slowly came to a halt at level five, and as the doors opened, the rest of the people in the cab filed out.

“What’s going on out there?” Victoire asked as she peered into the open area outside the lift. The Department of International Cooperation seemed more crowded than usual.

“There’s a big meeting in half an hour,” Theseus said simply as the doors closed and the lift took off once again.

“I used to spend all my time there,” Victoire remarked. “Got into a lot of trouble once because one of my brothers and I broke a couch.” Theseus grinned.

“Was this back when your father was the head of the department?” he asked. She nodded.

“I have no idea why he always let us come with him to work, we were the biggest distraction,” she remarked.

“Your brother used to go on and on about all the trips he took here back when we were in Hogwarts,” Theseus added, laughing a little at the memory.

“Emrys?”

“Yea, we were in the same year,” he replied.

“Ah, so you graduated before I started my first year,” she said as the doors opened.

“And you would’ve been a few years ahead of my younger brother, Newt,” he added, stepping out of the lift and glancing back to make sure Victoire was following him.

“I remember Newt!” she said enthusiastically as she followed him down the hallway. “He tested into my Care of Magical Creatures class during my fifth year, and we all loved him.”

“He wrote me a letter about that, he was really proud he got to be in your class as a third year,” Theseus added.

“He had better grades than all of us,” she added. “I remember having to ask him for help on a number of occasions.”

“I did the same with your brother,” Theseus said, slowing his pace so he was walking next to her rather than in front of her. “Emrys is the only reason I passed Potions class my fifth year.”

“My brothers are both insanely good at brewing and understanding potions,” she nodded.

“It must run in your family, considering your aunt,” Theseus remarked as they approached the door to his office. He was referring to her Aunt Maeve, a potioneer specializing in healing potions at St. Mungo’s.

Like half of the wizards in her family, Maeve McKinnon was internationally acclaimed for her work. For centuries, the McKinnon family had a reputation as one of the most powerful and influential wizarding families in Europe, which had definitely been intimidating to think about when Victoire was younger. Luckily, her parents had done a great job of emphasizing their children that they would be proud of them no matter what, so over time, that pressure had faded. Now, McKinnon was just her last name, not some expectation to accomplish great things.

And yet, unintentionally, Victoire and her siblings had gone on to continue the so-called “McKinnon legacy.” Her oldest brother, Emrys, was an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries, her other older brother, Thomas, was one of the chasers for the Kenmare Kestrels, and she had become one of the most talked-about Curse-Breakers of the century. Their names would be added to the lists of the greatest McKinnon wizards.

“I was excluded from the ‘skilled-at-potions’ genes, then,” Victoire laughed. “I wrote home too many times asking for money to buy a new cauldron. My mother nearly celebrated when I dropped the class in sixth year.”

“Were you the type to burn a hole in the bottom of your cauldron or to just blow it up somehow?” Theseus asked as he opened the door to his office, gesturing for her to go in before him.

“Explosions were my forte,” she joked as she walked past him. She plopped down into the chair behind her desk, looking up at him as he closed the door.

“Speaking of your brothers,” he said as he walked over to his desk, “I wanted to apologize for asking Emrys for your address, I just wanted you to get the report as soon as possible and didn’t know another way to contact you.”

“No, it’s fine,” she reassured him. “I was already awake and stressing about the fact I couldn’t find any information on the case, so it was a very welcome interruption.”

“I hope Bentley didn’t cause any trouble,” he said, a small smile on his face.

“No, Bentley was very well behaved. I think my own owl kept him occupied for the majority of his visit,” she said. Theseus laughed.

“So, Mr. Scamander, what do we do next?” Victoire asked.

“We write up a summary of what we’re planning to do, including all the research we’ve done to show the plan will actually work,” he said as he walked over to his desk. “Then we send it off to Travers and hope he approves it.”

“What happens if he doesn’t approve it?” Victoire asked curiously.

“He tells us we’re both idiots and we come up with another plan,” Theseus said with a small grin on his face.

“And if he does approve it?”

“We go back to the house on Chester Street and un-vanish those Aurors.”

[Tags: @littleyellowladybugg @missjockey101 @hearteyesmotherclucker @mrshazosterfield @greeneyedthief ]

A/N: It's our SECOND EVER Theseus Thursday. Look at me actually following a proper updating schedule, who would've thought we'd ever see this day? Hopefully I'll have another oneshot fic up this weekend, and then another chapter of this next week - lots of content! If you wanna request something specific please do so (LOTR, Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts, Star Wars, I'll write for most fandoms, really). Otherwise, I hope you enjoy/enjoyed reading this, and have a great day! :)

#fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts the crimes of grindelwald #theseus scamander x oc #theseus scamander imagine #theseus scamander fanfic #theseus scamander x reader #theseus x reader #theseus x oc #theseus imagine #fantastic beasts

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kikujones · 4 years

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hetalia fantasy class headcanons (dnd 5e)

from someone very educated to make them (aka who‘s played way too much dnd over the years)

feliciano: bard, college of glamour. he sings a lot and paints a lot and god he can’t fight- but his charm and optimism have a way with people and can even be considered inspiring in his own quirky way. oh also he’s just a lil bit slutty. but hey, that can be convenient sometimes. he’s just a very genuine bard who would rather be entertaining people in the tavern and bringing up their spirits than out on the battlefield.

ludwig: paladin, oath of devotion. he’s orderly and lawful and a strong, solid fighter who can’t be taken down very easily. he’s dependable to a fault with a strong moral code. his focus on living to a certain code in his health, lifestyle, and morality sometimes gets in the way of enjoying things, and generally he wants what’s best for others and that matters to him over his own convenience. though he’s a sturdy and powerful fighter, he’s got a softer side to him especially in rescue or protection, and this shows through a dutiful healing ability. possibly multiclasses or dabbles in artificer, being an analytical and competent engineer.

kiku: monk, kensei. the boy is good with his swords, knows his blades well and what they’re good for, and is light and agile on his feet despite being undeniably grounded. often can be found meditating or doing other things to strengthen his mind and soul. he speedwalks everywhere and seems to be so light and in control of his actions that he can almost defy gravity at times, smoothly achieving wall-runs and scaling trees or buildings like it’s nothing and without a sound. he’s not too strong and he’s a bit superstitious, but he’s dexterous, wise, and quickwitted.

alfred: fighter, gunslinger. he’s a cowboy babey! no but really, tell me you can’t see him twirling his revolvers around and being a sharp shootin son of a gun. he’s a risk taker, he’s a bit reckless and lives on the edge but is headstrong and has his fair share of grit. he’s a pretty charismatic talker too. though he’s not the most booksmart person around, he’s creative with his risky experiments, making his guns more volatile and a bit explosive, but unique and effective (when they work). he’s got alot of trick shots up his sleeve and uses them for dueling but also, more often, for flare.

matthew: ranger, horizon walker. he’s perceptive and quick to react, alert, quiet, and observant, but he knows his way around the woods and knows how to survive in thick forest without many manmade goods. he wants to help people and protect them the best he can, thus he guides people out from the wilds and from a distance, tracing his shots through the trees, eliminates threats to the innocent with his bow. he’s not just quiet, but rather he seems to literally disappear and reappear when moving or, sometimes, at random.

arthur: conjuration wizard / archfey warlock, pact of the tome. yes i chose two things. i think he’d be a straight up multiclass of these two classes because he shows an interest in reading out spells from a spellbook and studying/experimenting with magic on his own, however he also plays around quite a bit with extraplanar beings- almost daemons of different kinds, a lot of times who he makes agreements or deals with to gain their help or power. id imagine he uses an otherworldly patron as a way to enhance his preexisting magic as a conjuration wizard. also it makes him just a litttttle bit scarier. pact of the tome would be the definite choice for his warlock pact because he’s much stronger in his intelligence and ability to study than his charisma.

francis: bard, college of whispers. i can also see him as college of glamour, i mean look at the name, but... hear me out. i think he’s more capable in his words, his eloquence in speaking and charming people just as easily as blackmailing them with a certain knowing gleam in his eyes. he appears like a glamour bard, just as beautiful and just as indulgent– but he’s listening to every rumor, all the gossip, everything he could later use to his advantage. he’s good with a rapier and uses it in addition to his already cutting words.

ivan: warlock of the great old one, pact of the blade. now, pact of the blade is misleading– the warlock’s weapon doesn’t have to actually be a blade. in ivan’s case it would be a polearm of some kind resembling a simple metal pipe. he can cast some powerful, freaky spells due to his mysterious relations with a dark, unknown god, and in addition he can use that power through his weapon to completely crush anyone he so chooses with unadulterated eltrich power. he can be a bit misleading when not in battle, using more helpful support cantrips and spells that may not be so harmful. but hurt him and, well... they wont find your body.

yao: rogue, arcane trickster. he’s a dextrous little man who’s light on his feet and quick to dodge, quick to haggle, and quick to pull less-than-pious stunts to get his way. illusion and trickery come natural to him no matter his alignment; making false items to gain money or trade for something more valuable, and instead of getting too upset, getting even by way of cheap tricks for revenge. he’s frugal and far wiser– especially streetwise– than he sometimes gives off, knowing the city or the area he’s in like he’s been there for 1000 years. and maybe he has.

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wonderstxrs · 4 years

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@demoniccultivations

It had been two weeks now that the girl was in the Cloud Recesses without anyone, other than Lan Sizhui himself, knowing about it. He didn’t want to agree at first, he’d gotten separated from Lan Jingyi and the other junior disciples as they were rounding up the place and taking care of the spirits that haunted the place. How the girl ended up there and injured no less, he didn’t know. Lan Sizhui had offered to bring her to the Cloud Recesses so a physician could look at her injuries and treat them. But she refused to come if he got anyone involved, she didn’t even allow him to call for his fellow disciples. So he agreed to her terms, she was losing blood and even if by some miracle she would survive the blood loss, there was a cut on her leg as well -- she won’t be able to leave on her own. The wounds would most likely be dirty in no time in a surrounding like this. It seems nothing was in her favor. It was a little while after he promised he would do as she said and not involve anyone else, that she fainted.

Lan Sizhui had some basic medical items, nothing to treat severe injuries but he could at least help with the cut on her leg. Still, the wound on her stomach was much worse and still bleeding. He could either break his promise and get someone else involved, or do whatever he could to help her himself -- even if it wasn’t appropiate for him to do so, since she’s female and he’s male. He would never take advantage of the situation though, and her life is more important. So eventually he ensured to stop the bleeding and do what’s necessary. The cut on her leg cleaned, some salf on it and a bandage as well. The first few days she had slept, and he’d been worried she wouldn’t wake at all. But he made sure to check her regularly in case of a fever and sweating, because that would mean the wound was infected. But she woke eventually. So while she healed, he kept her company and brought her some bowls of food. He’d set tea for her too.

He ocassionaly played the Guqin to keep up with his studies, as well as writing up report on the last Night Hunt. He took a bit longer with that, because this would be the first time he’s leaving a significant part out of it. He’s never done that before, and... he does feel guilty about it. But a promise is a promise, he can always explain once she’s completely healed and left. He plans to tell her that, too. That he will tell eventually. Hanguang-Jun and Senior Wei, but also Zewu-Jun had given him plenty of responsibility and he can’t abuse that. He won’t. Of course Lan Sizhui also still attends class, and he eats breakfast with the other juniors and usually dinner with Hanguang-Jun and Senior Wei. Sneaking her food in mornings wasn’t that hard, he just ensured to be one of the first and he’d be out of there before the other disciples arrive. Evenings weren’t so easily done, but so far he’d managed. There was usually some food left in the kitchen, or extra’s for unexpected visitors who stay at the Bamboo Chambers.

Lan Sizhui had been less around Lan Jingyi and the others in between classes, and Jingyi had complained about it. So he knew he couldn’t keep it up too long because the other was already suspicious as it were. It wouldn’t take long before others would catch on as well. Prior to finding the girl, who still hadn’t told him her name so he just called her Xing’er [Xing means stars]. He calls her that because her hair garment as well as the symbols on her clothing had stars, and whenever she laughs her eyes light up like the stars. So he found it suiting.

‘‘You won’t let me tell anyone which I respect, but you are not making it easy for me by insisting on a stroll at this time.. is it absolutely necessary?’‘ Lan Sizhui attempts to stop Xing’er but she wouldn’t have it. ‘‘It is quite risky, for I told you about curfew... not only will we risk to be caught and have to explain about you being here-- we’ll also be punished for breaking the rules, and--’‘ she sushed him. She.. was sushing him? It left a surprised and at the same time defeated expression on Sizhui’s face. ‘‘I-- alright, just.. not too long---’‘ Sizhui made the mistake to look away as he spoke, and then his eyes fell on father Ying on the roof. OH... oh no.... Didnt... didn’t they- didn’t they go to bed already? ‘‘Father Ying!’‘

#demoniccultivations #❣ ( Lan Sizhui;; interactions. ) ❣

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diveronarpg · 4 years

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Congratulations, LIA! You’ve been accepted for the role of ROMEO. Admin Minnie: How many times can we tell you how much we love your Roman, Lia!! Our darling boy has changed so much since you began writing him, and it’s been a wild ride and an honor to see him develop. The crown weighs heavy on those whose hearts still believe in good, and Roman is proof of the burden of carrying that weight. I can’t wait to see how you continue pushing Roman forward and capturing our hearts and imagination with your writing. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Lia

Age | 21

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her

Activity Level | 6/10. I’ll actually be more active than usual since my classes are online for the time being, but in general, I’ll be able to pop in a few days a week to do replies.

Timezone | EST.

IN CHARACTER

Character | Romeo— The beautiful boy king Roman Montague.

What drew you to this character? | Mannnnnnn… Honestly, my entire body and soul belongs to Roman. Watching him grow in the RP has really been like watching a child grow up??? (yeah I don’t have kids so idk how accurate this statement is) But I wanted to revist the *cough* second time I revisted this part of the application.

“There’s something I’ve always loved about his inherent goodness, and how much he was loved for it. He was never a false prophet, he didn’t need to formulate a false persona, he was always himself, and that was enough for him to be adored. To Verona, Roman was proof that there still was some goodness in Verona, that there was some hope that the entire city wasn’t completely doomed and corrupt. He was proof that the gods hadn’t completely forsakened them. So what happens when he is no longer being shielded from the destitute of Verona? What happens when it begins to corrupt him, when it permeates through his essence? This is exactly what I intend to explore, especially with it being my second time around, and with Roman being a bit more in touch with his sinful side than I left him. ;-)”

He’s just so much more than people give him credit for? And that leads him to be underestimated, but boy— is ready to prove everyone wrong. >:-)

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

(I’ve kept the majority of the previous plots as they are still plots I hope to see through!)

MOTHER DEAREST | There’s no secret that Alba’s mind is deteriorating, and Damiano and Roman’s dismay, not even the best doctors, flown in from all over the world, are able to find a cure. I’m interested in seeing how this would affect the Montague empire, with Roman’s own mother being one of the biggest risks for the empire. I think this would force him to make some tough decisions, ones not even his father is capable of considering, absolutely blinded by the love he has for his Alba.

KING’S NOT DEAD | Roman’s gradual transition of power from his father is occurring much faster than he’d hoped for. Although he’s learning the ropes of being a boss rapidly, it would be interesting to see how he’d react to suddenly being forced to step in for Damiano unexpectedly. Maybe his father suddenly has to suddenly go away on business, or something involving Alba. Shadowing is one thing, but actually acting as the boss, that’s something else entirely. Will Roman be able to step up to the task? Stay tuned and find out ;) (I figured this is something to further be discussed with the admins, lol.)

NO LOST LOVE | If there was ever a woman suitable to rule alongside Roman when he eventually inherits the throne, it would absolutely be Pandora Phan. She is a soldier at heart— clever, determined, and unrelenting. But despite having this in common— the two couldn’t be any less alike. It would be a union devoid of love, completely for purpose and betterment of the mob. Roman understands this, but his love is something he is unwilling to compromise about. Although he’s agreed to the engagement for now, he’s only been keeping it up for the purpose of appearances, and he’s been secretly plotting about a way to end his engagement. It’s only a matter of time before he lets Pandora in on it.

MOST YOUNG KINGS GET THEIR HEAD CUT OFF | Not to say that we have Dark!Roman now, but… we kind of do? I think what is drawing me to Roman once again is his multifacetedness. He’s gradually become a person that is no longer an extension of his father. His motivations have shifted enitrely— before he wanted to take over the mob to appease his father, but this is no longer the case. He recognizes what he’s capable of now, and honestly seeing my bb believe in himself now is amazing. He’s becoming the leader he was always meant to be.….but he’s far from perfect. He’s growing more comfortable with his own depravity. He used to be disgusted at the idea that he took pleasure in the harm of another, but there’s something oddly satisfying about watching the Capulets fall, and rightfully so at that. It makes him feel good— in a twisted, fucked up way actually. It’s as if he’s purifying the streets of Verona. To him, the destruction of the Capulets is his way of serving the greater good. He also now recognizes the benefit of his charm— more than charming people into bed, that is. When he was younger he was just naturally charming without any other ulterior motives? But now he recognizes the advantage it gives him. The adoration that it emits from the people of Verona. They worship him for it. And Roman likes to be worshipped. I think this is a dangerous line for Roman to be crossing… and I am excited to explore this further.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yeah kill him with fire honestly

IN DEPTH

SAMPLE:

SIDENOTE: So, I wanted to revisit Roman’s first heartbreak as a way to show his growth. This is still under construction honestly (as I would like to develop in further for in character purposes), but for now… here you go! I was hoping to show a shift in dominance??? Damiano’s voice is the dominant voice from the beginning, but in the second para, it shows how much he’s grown into himself by how he stands up to his father and by his taking control of this part of the narrative. :)) I’ve been Roman for so long good lord, so I felt it was only right to give you guys something fresh to show just how much he’s grown over time! Sorry this is long as fuck omg forgive me.

VERONA, 2012

He heard him before he saw him.

It had been Damiano’s idea to have Rafaella write the letter. In reality, Alba wanted to do far worse, but with time, he’d been able to talk her down. It was he who realized Rafaella had been playing him, something the mafioso suspected from the start— but Alba’s insistence that Damiano’s interference would only cause Roman to despise him—beyond repair that is, as he’d already been aware of his son’s distaste for him—led him to sit back and allow everything to play out.

You have to allow him to make his own mistakes, amore mio. We mustn’t interfere until it goes too far— until we suspect he’s putting the mob at risk.

It wasn’t long before the information got back to him— information that could only have been acquired from the loose, fickle lips of his heir. Rafaella had become untouchable and she’d known it. Allowing her back into society, with all the information she’d managed to extract from his gullible son had been risky— but having her blood on his hands would be even riskier. Roman would already despise him for her exile, but her demise? That wasn’t something he was confident his son would bounce back from. The mob was no longer the place for his delicate heart. The loving bubble in which his mother had carefully surrounded him in would no longer do. It was now Damiano’s responsibility to prepare him for his destiny— and he would do so on his own terms.

He recognized the sounds that could only be likened to a wounded animal— the quieted, choked back sobs that Roman so desperately attempted to disguise. Damiano sighed, a mixture of pity and disgrace surging through him. The letter, to put it plainly, wasn’t cutting it. He needed the truth. It would be the only way for him to learn.

Damiano pushed the slightly ajar door open, before taking the seat across from Roman’s bed. He did not acknowledge him, but he attempted to quiet his cries even more. Neither of them said anything for several moments.

“There’s more to it— isn’t there?” Roman began softly, his hands still firmly gripping the dampened letter. “I know it was your decision to make her leave, but I also know there’s more to it.”

Damiano placed his elbow on his thigh, cradling his head carefully in his hand.

“It’s only fair that I give the girl the credit that she’s owed. I wish I could say that this was wholly of my own volition, but unfortunately, there’s far more to the story. Far more than I wish.”

Roman’s head turns up slightly. It is not anger that contorts his father’s face, but disappointment. “C-Credit? For what?”

“She was playing you, figlio. And you made it so easy for her. But I recognized that weakness within you long before she did. You were raised that way, after all. But it will be this way no longer. I can no longer do you a disservice by allowing you to be weak. Naive. Gullible. Because if I do?” Roman recoils as if he’d been struck with every name that falls from his father’s lips. “Then another Rafaella will come around, chew you up, and spit you out effortlessly just as she did.”

“No… Rafaella wouldn’t…. would she?” His eyes searched his father’s for sincerity. Possibly for comfort, he would not receive. It was comfort he’d never received from Damiano, but he still sought it out anyway. Pathetic. Even after everything, he still could not fathom that her love wasn’t true.

“She would, Roman! And you know why? Because the entire purpose of her involvement with you was to undermine you. To undermine our family. She didn’t love you and you need to recognize this. You need to be able to recognize the weakness within yourself, to prevent such ridiculousness from occurring again. You made it so easy for her. Do you know what you do the next time you feel inclined to confide in someone you love?” He paused for a moment, knowing good and well Roman didn’t know the answer to that. “You don’t. Not people outside of the family, at least. People like Rafaella— the recognize what you have. You’ll come to learn that this life— the life of a princeling is a gift and a curse. You’ve never needed to want anything, but everyone will want what you have. And they’ll do anything to get it. When you lay with rats, Roman, you realize that every inch of their being is committed to not appearing like one. But a rat is still a rat. And you gave the rat everything it wanted with minimal effort on its part. And my biggest regret is I allowed it all to happen. I allowed you to be stupid— to be foolish, to believe that what the two of you had, that superficial—” He could not even bring himself to say the word love, not after knowing what true love was. As if Roman and Rafaella’s dalliances were a disgrace to the word. “Do not embarrass yourself like this again. If you are going to be a fit leader, then you can’t continue being somebody people recognize as vulnerable. They’ll never respect you.” His only regret was not turning Rafaella into a weapon— such wasted potential on the slimy Capulets. But even Damiano was not convinced his efforts would work on a pest so deeply committed to being a pest. She’d been better off with Cosimo and his deplorable ways.

“I don’t respect you. You make it so hard to do so when you… ” he bites back his disgust, but he recognizes his efforts are working. The gradual chipping away of Roman’s soft exterior. He would shed his skin in favor of an armor far thicker. “But nevermind that. Your official training begins tomorrow at sunset. We’ll be interrogating a suspected informant. Be prepared for things to get messy. Don’t embarrass me either.” Damiano stands up swiftly, no longer able to stand the sight of his son.

“Papa?” Roman utters quietly before Damiano has completely exited the room. “Would you not allow me comfort? Not even this once?”

“Comfort doesn’t win wars. Neither does compassion. I won’t do you the disservice of believing it will get you anywhere in this city. Not in this life it won’t. Do you know where comfort and compassion got you, Roman? Mourning the likes of your rat lover. A person who probably hasn’t even given you a second thought. And you really think that I came here to comfort you? Don’t be inane. I came to give you a wake-up call. You’ll probably hate me for it in the long run, and guess what? I’ve accepted that. You’ll be a better man because of it. A stronger one. And that what matters. You’ll soon realize that you can have practically any woman or man you’ve ever wanted— but never allow them to make you weak. Never allow them to steal your honor. You’re a Montague. It’s time to start acting like one.”

VERONA, 2019

He heard him before he saw him. The hurried footsteps. His father was late.

Roman watched as the minute hand abandoned it’s partner, opting instead to move forward, now noticeable enough that his father was obviously late. Instead of quickening to anger, he focused his attentions on the paper lantern on his desk, attempting to funnel his emotions inside of it. It’d been easy enough in that current moment, but would it when it actually counted for something?

The door to his office opened and closed swiftly, but even as his father settled himself into the seat across from him, his eyes still remained on the paper lantern.

“Roman,” Damiano stated in a low, habitual growl.

“Father. You’re late,” Roman says plainly, something that takes Damiano off guard, mocking laughter vibrating his large frame. There was an energy radiating off of Roman that had not been there years prior. Confidence. He was not asking for respect, but commanding it. Damiano recognized that there was little option for him in the matter. Had he been…? Had that time finally—

“I’m serious.” He momentarily tears his gaze away from the lantern in order to meet his father’s. “I expect the same standard of professionalism you’ve always held me to. If I am to take over the mob one day— I expect that same level of respect.”

This response is enough to quiet the mob boss— maybe more so out of shock then the respect he deeply desired, but it was a start. “I have several issues that I hoped to address with you today.”

There was a fierceness to his silence— one that subdued any ridicule, any possible patronization emitting from his father. He watched as his father’s eyes searched his stoic expression, waiting for the exact moment in which he would realize. He’d suspected it, but acceptance would take much more effort on both their parts. Roman no longer feared him. He had cursed the invisible hand that guided him. bit it, fought it, bloodied it, rebuked it. The heir refused submission— he refused to be a vessel for his father to enact his torment. He wholly accepted his destiny, no longer seeing any use in running from it— but the power he now recognized was entirely his own. Damiano had no choice but to listen. And this had been everything that he’d ever wanted. Everything he’d ever hoped for. A son who refused to take a shit, even from his own father. He had to ensure that it was not good to be true. That Roman was not merely enacting the facade of a leader.

He nodded, waiting for his son to continue.

“As of recent, there are a few concerns I’d like to address regarding the mob’s administration,” Roman began cooly, eyes still searching the paper lantern. “Long story short— you’ve lost your touch. I don’t think your pride would ever allow you to admit that to yourself, but everyone can see it. The world can see it. I know how much you care about the reputation of the mob— which is why I’m offering you an easy way out.”

Roman could see the tinges of anger permeate through his father’s being, but it meant nothing to the man who did not fear him. Not a boy, not a princeling, but a conqueror. Hearing that you’ve lost your touch is never easy, Damiano knew better than most that he was getting old. He knew the time to usher in a new regime was rapidly approaching. But he also knew that Roman could not be asked to take the throne. He had to do so of his own volition. He had to command the throne. Demand that what was rightfully his be handed to him.

“The easy way out would be you gradually transferring your duties as mob boss to me. You’ll tell everyone that in your old age, you think its best for you to spend time with your sickly wife. That it is time to usher in a new era. You’ll tell them that your mind isn’t what it used to be, that dealing with your wife’s debilitating disease has driven you to irrationality.”

In all 27 years of his life, Roman had never driven his father to the point of stupefaction. Confidence surged in every word he spoke. But he could not lose momentum. “The difficult way out is you’ll be forced out. I mean, technically, the first option doesn’t leave you much of a choice either, but at least in that instance, your exit will be effortless on your end. I currently have a board of advisors within the ranks. I won’t reveal their names quite yet, though several of them will be fairly obvious. They wholly support my transition to the throne.”

Goade him. Test the thickness of the armor; ensure that it is authentic. Better you than anyone else. “You can’t seriously believe that you’re—”

“No!” Roman begins through snarled teeth. “You don’t get to do this to me anymore. The gaslighting, the berating— you can entirely fuck off with all that, dad. I didn’t call you into my office for you to listen to yourself talk. You’re going to listen to me. I won’t let you destroy everything we worked for. I won’t let you destroy me. Not anymore.” What was it that swelled in Damiano’s chest? Had it been… pride, perhaps?

“I’m ready. In fact, I’ve always been ready, father. I just was never what you wanted me to be. And I’ll never be who you want me to be. I’ll never be you and I’ll be a better man for it. A better leader for it.”

Damiano looks at Roman challengingly— expecting him to back down, to recoil as he always has— but Roman does not flinch. This was not the same boy who once mourned his lost love. Maybe Roman liked to believe so, but Damiano knew his son far better than that. He was different, maybe not in the way that he’d raised him to be—but he’d been different. He had not molded himself to be fit for the throne but instead shaped it into something that would be fit for him. Damiano’s test had been nearly complete. “You expect to lead a mob? Do you truly think you can garner the respect that I have?”

“And that’s the difference between you and I. Me— I never respected you. You convinced me that was what respect was, but that isn’t respect. That is fear. Do you truly think this city respects you? They’re terrified of you! But me? I don’t have to scare people into following me. They follow me out of choice— not because they believe it to be the only option. So let’s not make this any harder than it has to be, dad. It’s over. You’re over. What good have you or Cosimo brought to Verona from this stupid fucking war? Do either of you realize how ridiculous this all is? People are dying for your petty fucking war, and you don’t even care!”

I came to give you a wake-up call. You’ll probably hate me for it in the long run, and guess what? I’ve accepted that. You’ll be a better man because of it. A stronger one. And that’s what matters.

The authoritative air that seems to shimmer around Roman— it was real. Roman was not performing heir as he once had. This was real and even Damiano could now recognize it. He’d underestimated his son, a fault within himself that he was able to recognize. Maybe it’d been a result of his pride. Maybe he had lost sight of things. Maybe he and Cosimo had truly resorted to a petty pissing match. But nevermind that now.

He leaned back in his chair leisurely, hands coming together in a slow, dramatic clap. “I’m impressed, son. Truly. This backbone— where is it coming from?”

“I know you would like to think it’s from you,” Roman begins, laughing almost mockingly. “I know that you’re apart of me. I’m your blood after all. I tried to run from it— fearing that I would become you and lose every other part of myself. I thought becoming you was the only way that I would be able to rule, and that scared the shit out of me. But then I realized something— you have no true power. You only have as much power as everyone believes you to have. Without them— your power means nothing. So if you would like that illusion to be kept for the remainder of your days— then I wouldn’t cross me. You’re in the way of what I want, and if forcing you out is what it takes— then so be it.”

It had been this way for eons. Just as Kronos had overthrown his own father, Zeus had overthrown him. It had only been a matter of time. Even the gods got old and lost their touch. Even Damiano’s own father, who’d barely possessed such likeness in the first place. It would happen to Roman with his future child eventually— maybe not quite on the same terms, but it would happen with time.

“This is your final offer, father. I truly wanted to make this as easy possible for you, even if you don’t deserve it. After everything you’ve done— you deserve far less courtesy than this. So let’s not make this difficult for either of us. You knew this day would come. You just never knew when. Let my board of advisors and I proceed as planned, and your retirement will be a happy and prosperous one.” He smiles that 1000 watt smile— the one that will bring Verona to its knees. The smile that would end the war, that would finally usher in a new era. That smile had been the greatest weapon Damiano could’ve ever hoped for— how was he just now realizing this? That was the advantage Roman had and the one Damiano possessed no longer. That tantalizing charisma, and a clean canvas of a mind.

His work here had been done. Damiano had been convinced. Roman’s belief in himself had been genuine. He felt warmth— something he rarely felt at this point in his life, but it felt good. He was proud of his son. Of the leader, he’d become. But compassion had never been his way. Hw fumbled for the right words to say, something to encapture the depth of the pride he felt for his son—

“You don’t have to say it. I know you’re proud of me. I know that for whatever stupid reason you can’t admit that to—”

“No, Roman. You and your mother have shown me that it isn’t always a weakness that comes from compassion, but vice versa. Sometimes it is your own weakness that prevents you from showing compassion. A valuable lesson I needed to learn— even if it took more than half a century. Verona will be a better place because of you.”

He could see the emotion rousing in his son, the wetness settling in his eyes, and gods he had no desire to wait around while Roman ruined the moment.

Damiano began his exit in a single, furious motion.

“Thank you,” Roman manages, stopping him in his tracks. Damiano offers him a single nod before shuffling out of the office.

And for the first time in 27 years, Roman Montague had the last word.

EXTRAS:

SIDENOTE: This was actually the first part of the long ass sample I made, but I realized it had LITERALLY 0 to do with Roman??? Like he wasn’t even born let alone a thought? But it did help me find my daddy Dami and Mama Alba voice so it was fun afjwaeifj here you go!

VERONA, 1989

He heard her before he saw her.

There was something utterly engrossing about her voice, with the smokey richness only comparable to his favorite bourbon. But it was the huskiness that sold him— her passion unwavering even as her voice threatened to fail her, presumably from her repeated shouts.

Damiano stopped briskly in his path. He was late, but his curiosity bested him.

She was ferocious in every aspect— from the way her curls pooled heedlessly around her face, to her slender brows furrowed in determination. The dripping sweat only enhanced the bronze glow of her skin. Her willowy frame had been draped in a loosely fitted, Angela Davis t-shirt and dark bell-bottom jeans. She was chained to a towering tree, repeating over and over again,

Morte per gentrificazione!

Death to gentrification.

It was then he noticed everything else around them, the outside world previously silenced at the sight of her. Several police vehicles littered the surrounding street, as well as several aggravated men in suits discussing something fervently with a construction worker. He did not care to hear the circumstances of the situation from them, finding himself instantly pulled in the direction of the woman, disregarding the announcement made by several people that this was indeed private property he was entering. Even if he hadn’t been so focused on her— he couldn’t have cared less. He stopped at what he thought was a respectful distance, close enough to hold a conversation, but hopefully not close enough to impede her personal space. His mouth opened in preparation to speak, but the stranger managed to beat him to the punch—

“You can tell your bosses to stop sending stuffy fucking corporate lawyers my way. I gave them my terms already, and they’re non-negotiable.”

He blinked stupidly, not knowing how to react to her mistaking him for a stuffy, fucking corporate lawyer.

“I— was actually hoping to gain more clarity on the circumstances of your protest. I just moved to this part of town, and I’m not too familiar with the area.”

Her facial expression softened slightly, her eyes meeting his own with a raised brow. “Quite the nosey newcomer I see,” she begins challengingly yet playfully. “But this, mio amico, is the location of homeless shelter and soup kitchen. These bastardi di maiale—” she shouts in their direction as she states this, “—want to tear it down to build luxury apartments.”

This had evidently been enough to draw the attention of one of the bastardi di maiale, as he began his commute from the other bastardi, his face a sickly shade of salmon.

“This is my property. What don’t you get?! I have a right to do with it as I please. Now, if you don’t plan on getting off my property, I’ll have you forcibly removed, cang—”

All it took was Damiano’s hand positioned in front of his face to disrupt his throaty rant.

“I would stop while I was ahead if I were you,” he offered to the significantly shorter man. “You wouldn’t want to say anything you’d later regret.”

Gargles of protest exited his throat as he attempted to scramble for a retort. “Excuse me? How dare—”

“You’re going to sell me this property and go about your day. Understood?” Damiano says, lowering his hand. The woman watches him curiously, but his eyes remain on the bastardo.

“Now why the hell would I do that? This property is a gold mine! I’ll make mi—”

“Because your property won’t be worth merda once I’m finished with it. Build your luxury apartments. Fine. You will be reminded of my wrath each and every day. Your tenants will gradually forget what peace ever felt like. I’ll buy your property for whatever you paid for it plus 5%. And the more you run that bastardo mouth of yours, the less generous I feel, and the lower the offer will become. Do I make myself clear?”

The coloration of his skin reddens— a mixture of rage, embarrassment, and most likely fear. He did not truly need to build the apartments there, he supposed, and for some reason— his eyes met Damiano’s momentarily before returning to the ground— this man was someone he did not desire to have on his bad side. Maybe building luxury apartments on the property of a homeless shelter hadn’t been good—

“Sir? Have you considered my terms?” Damiano says smoothly, but there is no tolerance in his tone.

“I— accept your terms. We can draw up the paperwork immediately. I-It will be a pleasure doing business with you, signore—”

“Montague. Damiano Montague.”

The man’s eyes widened; he’d heard that name on some occasions, but never had the opportunity to meet the man in person. He’d been the man taking Verona by storm, with such a tightly held grasp that he did not need a face to accomplish such feats. He simply needed a name, and that was enough to bring the despondent city to its knees.

“Si-Signore Montague, it’s a p-pleasure—”

Damiano’s hand returned to its former place, heading the man’s blubberings once more. “Now, I would like to return to the conversation I was having with my companion before we were rudely interrupted by your ramblings. For the moment being, I’d like you out of my sight.”

His lip trembled but he did not protest— returning to the group of now wide-eyed bastardi di maiale. He returns his attentions to the strange woman— her arms now crossed, studying him peculiarly, attempting to figure out what he was after.

“Now that he’s taken care of—” he began with a sigh of relief. “Tell me more about this building. I hope to restore it to its former glory. In fact, I hope to make it even grander than before; in order to reach even more people than the original owners could’ve ever imagined possible. With your help, if you’d be willing, that is.”

She undid the chain, before sizing Damiano up, something not difficult for her to do as she could not have been more than two inches shorter than him. He couldn’t blame her for being wary of his intentions. This had all occurred in a span of fewer than fifteen minutes, after all. “Why would you need my help? You seem to have things pretty well handled.”

“This place means something to you. It means something to you to the point where you were willing to chain yourself to a tree and face off with these wealthy bastardi di maiale. You didn’t care about the consequences you might possibly face. The people are what was most important. They mean something to you, and quite frankly, something tells me you’d do a much better job of running it than I.”

She ponders his proposition silently for a few moments, before offering him her hand to shake. “Sounds like we have a deal. Alba Fascelli.” He shook her hand, before carefully bringing it to his lips, silently requesting her permission, only proceeding when she nodded. “I hope you know it’ll take more than a grand gesture to win me over, Dami. You haven’t even asked me out on a date yet.”

Damiano smiled warmly, as the familiarity the nickname roused within him made him feel as if he’d known her for years. “Trust me— I knew from the moment I walked over here that it would take far more than this to win you over. But I’ve never been one to step down from a challenge.”

She allowed her hand to linger in his for a moment longer, before crossing in front of him and releasing it. “0458446149. I’ll let you know when I’m available. Do forward more details about To Tame a Soup at your earliest convenience.”

He waved stiffly, still slightly stunned over her presence. “Addio, Alba.”

Alba. The name whose meaning he would come to understand later on in life. Sunrise. It would take meeting Alba for Damiano to realize that in his 27 years of life, the sun had not truly risen— not until meeting her, that is.

here’s his inspo tag!

there’s probably hella typos pls forgive me and tumblr deleted all my bold stuff and i’m sickkkkk but i’m too tired to fix it :/

#accepted #accepted: romeo

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pllandcompany · 5 years

Text

You GUYS. Sanders Sides Ice Skating AU? Sanders Sides Ice Skating AU.

Do I know anything about ice skating? Nope. Am I gonna write about it anyway? Absolutely. Google is a thing, right?

(please don’t ask me what possessed me to come up with this, the answer i don’t know, just let me be great)

Warnings: talk of injuries, performance anxiety, mention of illegal/dangerous performance enhancing practices, disordered eating/body image issues, past minor character death. illness mention, deceit is included in this

Also, just to be clear, the boys all train together on the same team. Under a cut because this 100% ran away from me.

Logan:

at 24, he’s considered to be what the team lovingly calls a lifer, meaning that skating is all he knows and all he’s ever done since he was born

truth be told, his former NBA cheerleader mother and NFL coach father forced him into several sports when he was small and this was the only one he showed any potential in

spoiler alert: they’re not thrilled that this was the only one he was good at

but they wanted their son to be an athlete so skating it is

fairly well known but doesn’t even acknowledge his own fame

known around the arena for being sort of intense and standoffish leading to him not always being well-liked

also weirdly brilliant? he frequently goes on rants about the physics behind skating that never fail to shock his teammates

despite being a frequent silver/gold medalist, Logan always felt like his parents were constantly disappointed in him so he vowed to train so hard that he would make his first Olympics by age 18

he missed his goal by one tenth of a point and had to wait until 22 to qualify again

also his parents didn’t even attend the competition where he qualified

it doesn’t bother him one bit (just kidding, he is Bothered)

very rigid with his diet and training regimen, sometimes to an unhealthy level depending on how well he believes he’s performing (roman and patton are Very Worried sometimes)

struggles with his height and wingspan, at 6′0 he’s tall for a skater and somewhat lanky which makes certain technical elements difficult for him

only at first though, when he meets a challenge, it becomes his ultimate goal to master it

ever the perfectionist, he will practice until he nearly collapses and often has to be dragged off the ice and forced to stop obsessing

(the occasional lack of adequate nutrition and/or hydration doesn’t have anything to do with him collapsing. nope. he’s fine.)

his technique is mostly impeccable but he’s a cerebral skater; often criticized for visibly “thinking” while skating and not emoting much

Roman:

23, total prodigy skater, also a lifer

both parents were Olympic skaters; they were actually part of two separate pairs when they met and quickly became both life and work partners

now Roman’s father coaches their team and his mother acts as his manager

very charismatic and magnetic, quickly became a public figure after his second Olympic gold medal

his mother takes every advantage of her son’s charm, constantly signing him up for guest roles and talk shows and commercials without consulting him first

he loves the attention though

sometimes

sometimes he just wants to skate

Roman’s father isn’t as impressed with his antics; he’s constantly on him to stay focused

the other teammates either genuinely love him or they love him in person and gossip about him in secret

he knows some of their adoration is fake but it’s fine, he doesn’t care what they think (he cares a great deal)

5′8 but very muscular, especially in his legs and shoulders

has been criticized for his broader body type but he doesn’t care; he loves that he’s Thicc

judges still love him though, he’s a very powerful skater, his jumps are explosive and very accurate and he’s always very connected to the music

he’s always looking for the next challenge, the next risky move or flashy element

at times he can be hard on himself to always outdo his last performance which has cost him his physical health at times; he spent the year leading up to his second Olympics battling a knee injury that almost sidelined him

he and Logan have a friendly/unfriendly competition going on as they tend to consistently trade places with each other for 1st and 2nd place on the podium

Virgil:

21, a newer addition to the team

wicked talented, possibly even more so than Roman

ask him though and he’d tell you he’s the worst one in the rink (which infuriates Logan considering Virgil achieved the very goal he couldn’t)

has severe performance anxiety and will often panic so much before competition that he’s physically sick

5′6 with a slight build; can jump wicked high and very clean lines

his teammates call him the Shrimp because of how short he is

(roman used to call him that too until he found out how much Virgil hated the nickname)

raised by a single parent, his mother worked three jobs so she could afford skating lessons and new boots as he grew

qualified for his first Olympics at just 18, won bronze and a sponsorship that finally took the pressure off his mother

now he wants gold but not for himself

his mother was diagnosed with cancer and the treatments are very expensive on top of the financial demands of his career

he knows if he makes more money, he can provide for her the way she provided for him

when he skates, it’s either damn near flawless or a shaky, inconsistent mess, there is no in-between

fortunately there are people around him to help his anxiety and keep him focused

Patton:

25; came to the arena shortly after Logan but unlike Lo was very quickly accepted

he loves everybody

everybody loves him

the other teammates call him Old Man, Dad, or Papa Patton because he’s always looking out for everyone

whether it’s making sure they stay hydrated or nourished or telling them to rest when they need to, he’s always looking out for his skate family

5′9 and somewhat muscular but still lean

not the most technically consistent skater but always receives high praise for his performance and artistry

one of the few skaters who actually loves the dance classes they attend and really gets into them (this confuses Logan greatly)

came to competitive skating a bit later in life, took more time to train and test than average

despite his age and experience, he actually has the least amount of medals among the four and has yet to win Olympic gold

is seemingly unbothered by that fact (this confuses Roman greatly)

also never appears to be nervous or stressed about competitions (this confuses Virgil greatly)

when asked about his calm and cheerful demeanor even in the face of disappointment (by Roman)

or his ability to display every emotion in the music so readily on his face (by Logan)

or how he manages not to puke for hours before a big skate (by Virgil), he answers with this

when he was nine, both of his parents were killed by a drunk driver on their way to see him skate

he almost quit skating after that happened

(if he’s honest, he almost quit everything after that happened)

but after the grief settled slightly, he made a promise to himself that no matter what, every time he stepped on the ice, he would skate for them

every turn, every spin, even every practice session is for them and whatever happens doesn’t matter because he knows that his family is watching over him and they are so proud

having discovered a new level of respect for their teammate, the others find themselves complaining much less around him now

Deceit (known as Dimitri):

22, not a member of Roman’s dad club, of Russian descent but skates for Team Canada

started showing up in competitions shortly after Virgil joined the team

immediately started crushing everybody, knocking Roman and Logan down to silver or bronze and Virgil and Patton off the podium completely

5′8 and the ideal build for a figure skater, judges go nuts over his lines and speed

deadly accurate jumper

the dude honestly seems almost perfect

Roman is Frustrated. Logan is Jealous. Virgil and Patton are Suspicious.

it’s Patton who finds out the chink in Dimitri’s sequined armor

he’s been blood doping for months in secret

but not for selfish reasons

he too was orphaned at a young age but unlike Patton, he was not the only child left behind

he has a sister and two brothers who he is the primary caretaker of

and almost every penny he earns is spent on their schooling, their healthcare, their overall well-being

he has to be the best in order for their family to survive

which is why Patton is sworn to secrecy

if this got out, he’d be done and so would his three siblings

Patton is Very Worried because doping is hella dangerous

but Dimitri will be fine

right?

I’m sure this has been done before but I don’t care, I’m in love with this concept and I can’t wait to write more.

Tagged: @ziallwarrior @apologieslogan @logansmolbean @crofters-jam @asylia5911 @ab-artist @band-be-boss-blog @unbefuckinglieveable @flyingfreeyt @thecatchat @thefallendog @backatthebein

#logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #tw: deceit #sanders sides au #my writing #pllandcochats #sanders sides

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commentaryvorg · 5 years

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Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 4.16

Be aware that this is not a blind playthrough! This will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.

Last time, we finally finished up the trial proper of trial 4 (trial 4!!!!!!), which took so many posts because I had about a million things to say about all the best parts. Kaito’s faith was truly blind for once, his desperation to deny the truth produced the best deduction he’d ever come up with (which was still completely wrong), Shuichi tried to reach out to him and help, which only made Kaito push him further away, and Kaito literally, provably still could not accept the truth in the end.

Now it’s the post-trial conclusion, in which Everyone Is Suffering.

Monokuma: “Well, look at that! You voted correctly!”

Well, most of them did. It’d be kind of fun if Monokuma straight-up called Kaito out for voting wrong, but I do enjoy how Kaito refusing to accept the truth in the end is so relatively understated, like so much is with him.

Kaito: “Dammit… why!?”

Kaito finally speaks again… and of course it’s to desperately wonder why.

Monokuma: “Hey, Kokichi… You said this would liven things up. What gives, huh?”

I… don’t see what your problem is, Monokuma. Look at all this delicious despair you’re surrounded by right now, all thanks to Kokichi.

Kokichi: “Ah-haha, that was juuust a lie.”

…It wasn’t, though? You did liven things up, a lot.

Shuichi: “Are you satisfied, Kokichi? I want you to tell us. What is the outside world? Is it the motive you gave Gonta?”

So despite his justification of Gonta’s motive in the Closing Argument being the consciousness error, it seems like Shuichi’s also thinking of the possibility that there was an actual proper motive too. Kokichi never mentioned during the trial that the motive might have had anything to do with the outside world, but apparently Shuichi figured out that possibility anyway.

Here’s Alter Ego Gonta! Of all the deliberately gratuitous Danganronpa gen wun references in this game, this one is probably my favourite, because Alter Ego was a good.

Alter Ego Gonta: “Huh? What this? What happening?”

This must be so weird for him. The last thing he’d remember is trying to log out, and then this. How is he even experiencing this? Is he just, like, in some dark void where he can see a screen that’s showing him what the laptop’s camera sees? Probably something like that.

Alter Ego Gonta: “G-Gonta not understand… Who this ‘Alter Ego’ person?”

Of course he’d be confused about all this talk of him being a computer simulation and not understand that he’s technically not the real thing. Gonta is Gonta, right? How can Gonta not be the real Gonta?

Alter Ego Gonta: “Kill Miu…? Why does other Gonta know about—”

It’s actually kind of surprising that Alter Ego Gonta wasn’t expecting another version of himself to know about this. Wouldn’t he imagine the other Gonta would have the same memories as him? I guess he’s thinking of this as a Gonta from an entirely different world that didn’t have a reason to do any of this in the first place.

Alter Ego Gonta: “Then… Gonta no could save everyone?”

He just wanted to save everyone. Like every other selfless murderer in this game. I love all these selfless murderers.

Alter Ego Gonta: “Gonta think he gotta do it, cuz everyone else not want to. So… Gonta kill Miu.”

Kaito: “What do you mean by that? I… I don’t get it at all!”

This is the first thing of substance Kaito has said in quite a while, and just like his brief line earlier, it’s about wanting to understand. Kaito has always made a point about wanting to understand the killer’s reasons after every single trial (even with Kiyo), and this time more than ever he needs to do so otherwise he’s never going to be able to deal with this. He must have been hoping that hearing from the Gonta who actually did this would help him understand and accept this, but right now this still doesn’t make any sense at all.

(Which is fair, because Alter Ego Gonta’s explanation is currently missing out the rather important detail of why he considered killing Miu to be a necessary evil that no-one else would have wanted to do.)

Maki: “The secret of the outside world in the Virtual World was about the Flashback Light?”

Kokichi: “And, if it was the Flashback Light… it would mean the secret of the outside world is part of our forgotten memories.”

So, in other words, if Kokichi hadn’t figured out when he first saw the outside world that Flashback Lights can contain fake memories, he definitely has now. At this point, he remembers the world’s complete annihilation, yet he also knows it cannot possibly be the truth.

Kokichi: “This might be a trap, y’know? Shouldn’t you check if I’m lying first? I mean… you wanna protect everyone, right? This is the perfect time to do it.”

Gonta: “P-Protect everyone…?”

[Gonta rushes to use the Flashback Light]

Of course that would be how Kokichi made sure Gonta viewed the Flashback Light there while they were alone – by manipulating his desire to protect everyone yet again.

Alter Ego Gonta: “But that… just confuse Gonta more about what to do… What can Gonta do to save everyone…? Gonta no could think of anything…”

Kokichi: “So I told him. If he wants to save everyone, he should put everyone out of their misery. In other words… a mercy kill.”

Note how Gonta was not the one who came up with the mercy kill idea. That was suggested to him by Kokichi. So yes, okay, Gonta did choose of his own volition to commit murder given the situation he was in – but had he been on his own, the option of doing this would probably never have even occurred to him. He’s just too kind for something like that to cross his mind even when in that desperate state of mind.

A mercy kill is not the only way to deal with such a horrible truth, either. A more risky but less murdery way of trying to save everyone would have been to do essentially what Angie was trying to do: make everyone happy inside the academy and stop them from wanting to leave, in which case they’d never kill each other and never find out about the outside world. If Gonta had realised that was also an option, it’s entirely likely that he would have chosen to try and do that instead since it wouldn’t involve hurting anyone. But Gonta has always been confused as to what the right thing to do is such that neither of these options occurred to him, so when Kokichi presented the mercy kill like it was the only option, he felt like he had to do it.

Gonta: “Was Gonta… tricked!?”

Alter Ego Gonta: “No, you not tricked. Cuz, when Gonta remember secret of outside world, Gonta think… it would be easier… to die.”

I do like that the writing stresses this contrast between what Gonta assumes and what Alter Ego Gonta insists. Throughout the trial, first-time-me had been convinced that Gonta was genuinely just tricked and manipulated into this, so it’s nice that actually he had more of his own agency that one might expect and that he made the choice to do this awful thing knowing full well how awful it was.

That said, he still was tricked. Kokichi knew that the secret of the outside world was one big fat lie by the gamemakers, and yet he showed it to Gonta anyway while letting him think it was the truth. Then he acted like a mercy killing was the only possible option so that of course Gonta would choose to do that, given the kind of person he is.

Remember that one time Kokichi tried to insist that lies are what gives the world free will, and I argued that actually lies give people less free will if anything? Yeeeaaaahhh, that’s especially applicable here. Gonta believed he was choosing this of his own free will, when really he was manipulated into thinking it was his only reasonable option by the combination of something Kokichi knew was an outright lie (the outside world being in ruins) and a smaller white lie (acting like the mercy kill was the only reasonable way to deal with this).

It’s a lot like how Kirumi was manipulated into thinking she had to escape in order to save everyone outside by the Flashback-Light-induced lie in her motive video. Except this time, the gamemakers weren’t the only ones using the lie; Kokichi used it too.

Kokichi: “Gonta took on the dirty work for us. If he had survived the class trial, he would’ve lived in this hell alone… Gonta took on that role for us! Shouldn’t we appreciate him more!?”

Literally everybody here already appreciated Gonta plenty, you dick. The only person who didn’t properly appreciate him is the person who took advantage of his self-sacrificial nature in order to push him to do this when they knew it wasn’t necessary, and got him killed for it. Someone’s deflecting, as usual.

Kaito: “Wait a minute! I still don’t get what’s happening!”

I love how panicked Kaito is by the fact that he still doesn’t get it. He needs to understand this. He has to.

This should be enough to explain it by now, but I suppose with Kaito’s unshakeable optimism, he would find it hard to comprehend how anything could be so awful that it would make Gonta believe that killing everyone is the only way out. But Gonta is still the person you believe in, Kaito, and that’s the important part! He’s just… not quite as strong as you’d hoped he was. Just like Kaede.

Alter Ego Gonta: “Sorry! Gonta no can tell you!”

Shuichi: “Can’t tell us!? Why!?”

Alter Ego Gonta: “B-Because… if Gonta tell you, then… everyone will end up like Gonta… Everyone… despair.”

Of course Gonta can’t tell them. Of course he doesn’t want anyone else to suffer the way he’s suffering. He wanted to protect them from that so badly that he was willing to kill them all rather than let them find out. Anyone who genuinely cared so much that they were willing to go to such extremes for that outcome would never give up on it no matter what happened.

(They’d never turn around and stop fighting for the mercy kill halfway through the trial, and they certainly wouldn’t suddenly up and outright show everyone the outside world a couple of days later either, is my point. Have I mentioned that it is simply not possible that Kokichi could have ever wanted this.)

Keebo: “Despair!?”

Whoops, that word set off all the mindless Danganronpa fans inside Keebo’s head. I’m pretty sure this is the first time we’ve heard that word all game! Which is definitely deliberate.

Kokichi: “I… know it… A despair that makes you want to die… A despair that makes you want to put everyone out of their misery…”

No, you don’t, because you never believed that despair was the truth in the first place.

I’m not saying Kokichi doesn’t essentially know a kind of despair, namely the despair of being stuck in this awful killing game that he hates and sees no escape from, which he’s felt from the very beginning. But that’s not the despair he’s talking about here, and he certainly doesn’t give two fucks about how anybody else is being affected by the kind of despair he’s feeling either.

Miu: “I-I’m sorry, but… you should just give up. This is… my only chance. I have no choice but to do this… My inventions will change the world… They’ll make the world a better place! It’s my duty as a genius inventor! S-So, I can’t afford to die here—”

I really enjoy this! Miu was trying to do this simply because she was terrified of being murdered and selfishly wanted to survive at everyone else’s expense. Yet she knew she was being selfish and doing an awful thing, so she couldn’t bring herself to do it without desperately trying to justify to herself that it’s not selfish and she needs to survive because she’s important and this is about the whole world. Her issues this entire time (which I’ve never been willing to talk about because they’ve been smothered in her awful unnecessary sexual references) have been about her feeling horribly inferior and covering it up with desperate, obnoxious, obviously-fake insistence that she’s the best and everyone should love her, so it’s great that that also ties in with her paranoia-driven decision to become a selfish murderer here. Miu really could have been an interesting character! She is, sometimes! I just absolutely despise what the writers did with her the other like 80% of the time and aaargh.

And if Miu hadn’t hesitated like this and taken so long psyching herself up for it with this big justifying speech, she might have been able to actually kill Kokichi – because Gonta didn’t jump to attack her the first opportunity he got, since he was almost certainly also desperately trying to psyche himself up for it during that time.

[Gonta begins strangling Miu]

Gonta: “S-Sorry…! Gonta so sorry…!”

[Kokichi heads for the rooftop door and unlocks it]

Kokichi: “Don’t be sorry, Gonta. She was trying to kill me too. She said it was for the world or whatever, but that was just a poor excuse. We’re doing this to stop the vicious cycle of misery! So you don’t need to apologize.”

[Miu’s avatar collapses, and Gonta falls to his knees]

Gonta: “B-But… but…! Ergh… nrgh…! Gonta sorry! Gonta so sorry, Miu!”

Kokichi: “I already said you don’t need to apologize. We had to do this for everyone’s sake.”

This is another of the bits which make me believe that a part of Kokichi does feel bad about this: the way he insistently tells Gonta not to apologise here.

Even using Kaito’s principles regarding apologies, Gonta probably still has every reason to be apologising for this. Yes, he believes it’s for an end goal that’s worth it, but he is still deliberately choosing to hurt someone in aid of that end goal. That hurt deserves to be apologised for, because, you know, taking responsibility for your actions and the pain you cause. Kokichi, on the other hand, has his own very different “principles” that go approximately “nothing I do is ever bad so I don’t need to apologise for anything, but if anyone else does anything that’s bad for me then how dare they”.

So the only reason he tells Gonta not to apologise is that Gonta being this emotionally tormented by what he’s done is… apparently actually getting to Kokichi somewhat. Gonta is making it so obvious that murder is bad and you should feel bad if you murder someone and that he in particular feels awful for it, and haha nope Kokichi’s not having any of that, not the fact that he also murdered Miu and should feel bad about it, nor the fact that he’s making Gonta suffer this much for no reason. Kokichi’s animations seem impatient and angry as he’s telling Gonta not to apologise, making it clear that he’s not doing it because he selflessly cares about how Gonta’s feeling and wants to limit his suffering, but because he’s annoyed that Gonta’s apologising is making him feel bad about all this, how dare he, stop making Kokichi regret this obviously terrible decision that he can’t take back any more.

He claims it’s for everyone’s sake, but it was never about that, because he knows that’s all a lie anyway. It’s ironically very similar to the way Miu was just insisting to herself that she needs to do this, using things she knew were only an excuse, to try and stop herself from feeling bad about becoming a murderer. Kokichi could tell that’s what Miu was doing, but of course he’s not doing exactly the same thing, right?

Also of note is Kokichi moving around to the door almost as soon as Gonta starts strangling Miu so that he can’t even see her face (or Gonta’s) as she dies. Shuichi pictured Kokichi continuing to stand in front of Miu, if still not facing her directly, but it turns out he was being even more avoidant about it than that.

Kokichi: “You should know that it was Gonta’s idea to slide the body to the chapel wall.”

Gonta: “What? Gonta’s idea?”

Alter Ego Gonta: “Before Gonta went to the roof, he happened to see… Miu walk through the wall. Gonta tell Kokichi, and he think of everything else…”

So, not Gonta’s idea at all then. Gonta accidentally happened across information that allowed Kokichi to come up with that idea, that’s all.

Kokichi: “I like to think… we make a pretty good team.”

Only if “one person comes up with literally the entire murder plan, and the other shoulders literally all the moral responsibility of killing someone” counts as being a “team”.

Kaito: “Well, I mean, hearing that story, it sounds like you were tricked by Kokichi.”

Kaito’s right, but… definitely more by luck than judgement. Without knowing the “truth” of the outside world, he can’t comprehend how something could be so awful that it could push Gonta this far, so he’s assuming there was trickery involved, in order to make himself able to accept this. There was, but not in the way Kaito’s thinking.

Alter Ego Gonta: “Gonta not save anyone… Gonta just make everyone suffer more… Gonta… is stupid! So stupid! How can Gonta call himself gentleman!?”

Because you tried, Gonta! You tried as hard as you could to save everyone in the situation you were presented with, and it’s not for lack of you trying that it failed! (And it most certainly isn’t your fault that doing this actually wasn’t the appropriate way to save everyone because you couldn’t possibly have known that you’d been lied to.) A gentleman shouldn’t have to be someone who always succeeds at everything, just someone who always tries to!

(The same could be said about heroes, by the way.)

Kokichi: “But… you reached for the truth. And Gonta’s plan failed. All of you could have been saved if you died without knowing anything…”

No, Kokichi. You told them the truth. All of them could have potentially been “saved” if you hadn’t said anything. He is conveniently forgetting to mention that right now.

Kokichi: “Gonta even killed Miu for that sake, y’know?”

Kaito: “Enough of your shit! You made him kill her!”

Kaito is still a little off in his assumptions about the kind of trickery involved, but even so, and even if you take this at the face value that’s being claimed, Kokichi is still partially responsible for Miu’s death. Kaito does not appreciate the way he’s refusing to acknowledge that and pushing all the responsibility onto Gonta.

Gonta: “Sorry! Gonta is sorry he fail everyone… Gonta is sorry for being stupid! Gonta is sorry he make everyone suffer! Gonta is so sorry!”

Gonta’s whole arc throughout the entire game and especially this chapter has been focused on him desperately trying to help everyone in whatever way he can… but in the end he’s going to die feeling like he failed everyone in the worst possible way and it’s heartbreaking. Especially for this Gonta, who technically didn’t even do anything wrong if we go by the argument that memories make a person who they are, which is an argument we can’t not go with in this story.

(You might note that Kaito is not trying to tell Gonta not to apologise even though he’s just making himself feel even worse without deserving it.)

Kokichi: “You’re probably all thinking that I should’ve taken on the dirty work and not Gonta, right? Everyone… hates me… so the role of villain is perfect for me…”

Everyone hates you because you’re constantly being a villain. It’s not the other way around.

Like, okay, granted, maybe in his past he was persecuted and hated without having done anything to deserve it and that’s why he started acting like a villain the whole time to protect himself from that. (Though it sure would be easier to sympathise with that if we knew literally anything about it!) But even if that’s true, at this point it’s just become a self-perpetuating cycle and now he’s bringing it upon himself. Nobody here has treated Kokichi in a way that he didn’t already thoroughly deserve based on how he’d been acting.

Kokichi: “Yeah, I know already! It should have been my responsibility!”

If you really were willing to accept responsibility for killing Miu, then why don’t you do so right now, Kokichi? After all, you still did kill Miu, just not directly.

Kokichi: “That’s why I had to ask Gonta! I would have done it myself if I could!”

Yeah, no. Hypothetically, if this was about the mercy kill, and if Miu hadn’t had some failsafe to protect herself from Kokichi, I’m still not remotely convinced Kokichi would have done it himself, based on the fact that he’s not even capable of accepting his actual responsibility in Miu’s death here. If ever any of his plans gave him the choice between murdering someone directly or indirectly, he would always choose the indirect option, to allow him to tell himself he’s not really killing anyone. This here is just another excuse, deflecting the deflection, so that he can insist he’s not wilfully running away from any responsibility at all.

Kaito: “Okay, but… You didn’t need to push everything onto Gonta to—”

Kaito is so good. He seems to be willing to buy Kokichi’s story that he genuinely cared about this! (Which is fair, since the story is plausible as long as you’ve forgotten that Kokichi threw Gonta under the bus in the trial, something he’s conveniently not reminding them of, and he does sound reasonably genuinely emotional about it, because it’s rooted in part in genuine emotion that he’s telling himself is all a lie like a lot of Kokichi’s displays are.) Despite everything Kokichi’s putting them though, Kaito would still rather take the interpretation that Kokichi is a vaguely decent person if that interpretation can be made to make sense, because Kaito wants to believe the best in everyone if he can!

But, even accepting that story, Kaito still can’t stand the way that Kokichi is pushing literally all the responsibility onto Gonta for Miu’s death. What Kaito’s trying to tell Kokichi here is exactly what I was just saying – to take some of the responsibility for Miu’s death himself, because some of it is rightfully his, whether he killed her directly or not.

Gonta: “Stop! It’s okay! Everyone, please… Don’t… blame Kokichi anymore…”

Of course Gonta would say this, though. He doesn’t understand the situation well enough to appreciate that it’s partly Kokichi’s fault – all he knows is that he did an awful thing, and he’s hating himself for it so much that he feels that he’s the only one who deserves to suffer for it no matter what the rest of the situation is.

Kokichi: “Gonta… you…!”

Don’t act so surprised, Kokichi, you knew full well Gonta is the kind of person who would take the responsibility all upon himself, and that’s probably part of the reason you chose him to be your pawn here.

See, despite how genuine Kokichi’s expression looks here, he’s still mostly acting. If he truly wanted to take some of the responsibility for himself and was moved by Gonta saying he didn’t have to, then the correct response would be to insist that no, he should take some of the blame, Gonta shouldn’t be heaping absolutely all of it onto himself.

Gonta: “Someone as stupid as Gonta could never be a gentleman—”

Being a gentleman was never about being smart, Gonta! You are the best gentleman.

Kokichi: “Wait! If you’re gonna punish him, then please… punish me too.”

Shuichi: “Kokichi…?”

Kokichi: “I’m prepared for it! If you’re gonna execute Gonta, then I—”

Nope. Kokichi knows perfectly well that Gonta is the kind of person who wouldn’t let him do this – he literally just took all of the moral responsibility upon himself, so of course he would also take all of the physical punishment upon himself too. Kokichi would know that making this move is completely safe and won’t get him killed.

And okay, maybe that tiny part of him that actually does hate what he did to Gonta is having a bit more of a say than normal and kind of does hate himself enough to want to die for it. But the rest of Kokichi that stubbornly wants to “win” the killing game no matter what and refuses to acknowledge any kind of responsibility for anything ever is still mostly in the driving seat right now and isn’t going to let himself die just yet. He’s able to let that suppressed part of him seem like it’s in control while having no conscious intent to get himself killed. This is just a very elaborate, for-once-not-overexaggerated example of all those times he displayed something based in his genuine emotions while telling himself it was totally all a lie.

Gonta: “Just promise Gonta… that everyone forgive each other and be friends. Okay?”

It’s going to be very hard to forgive Kokichi for killing you, Gonta! Especially considering that he is never going to show the slightest shred of remorse for it. I know that Gonta just wants to be reassured that everyone is going to be okay once he’s gone, but it’s hard to be able to promise that when someone who would throw two people’s lives away as pawns in his own selfish plan is still among us.

Kokichi: “…Alright, I promise.”

No, you don’t. Since Kokichi’s the one who did something wrong, his part in this promise would be to become someone who deserves to be forgiven, meaning he’d need to acknowledge that he did an awful thing and start trying to make amends for it. Fat chance of that.

Kokichi: “W-Wait, please! I don’t want this! Don’t go, Gonta!”

Oh, now you don’t want this? Well, maybe you should have realised that before you made it happen. It is way too fucking late to be saying this now. You did this, very consciously and deliberately. Now deal with it.

For once, I’m putting the part of Kokichi that actually does care about this down to a little bit more than just basic human decency. While he’s never shown any indication of caring about anyone else’s pain, the signs I’ve pointed out indicate that Kokichi was at least somewhat affected by Gonta’s emotional suffering and not just the fact that he’s about to die now. Which means that on some level Kokichi did care about Gonta as a person, at least a little bit. It makes sense that Gonta would be the one person Kokichi might feel some level of attachment to, since Gonta never stopped thinking of Kokichi as a friend and a decent person and openly cared about him despite how little he’d done to deserve it. Kokichi is always terrified that people will betray him, but if anyone is going to be so obviously genuine and trustworthy that even Kokichi might realise they really wouldn’t stab him in the back, it’d be Gonta… so maybe Kokichi did start to believe that just a little bit. (That might be why it seemed to get to him so much in the trial when he thought Gonta was still lying about not knowing anything: because with Gonta being apparently more of a liar than Kokichi expected, it felt like he was being betrayed?)

Kokichi makes such a big deal about being a liar partly so that nobody will ever want to trust him, which gives him an excuse not to trust or get attached to anybody else in turn, so that he doesn’t have to worry about being betrayed. But that protective shell of his was never going to work on Gonta, simply because it’s Gonta. It’s ironic that the exact blind faith Kokichi kept insisting was clearly the idiotic way to see things, the kind of naïve belief that everyone is always good rather than Kokichi’s naïve belief that everyone is always bad, was exactly what it took from Gonta to make Kokichi start to somewhat care about and maybe even ever-so-slightly trust someone. Gonta got through to that vague semblance of a decent person inside Kokichi more than anyone else ever did, even Kaito.

…But it still clearly wasn’t enough, since Kokichi repaid Gonta’s kindness and trust by taking advantage of it and getting him killed. Every single bit of the pain he’s feeling at what happens to Gonta here is entirely his fault and entirely deserved. Ideally he should learn from this and try to become a better person. He’s not going to.

Gonta: “Gonta’s… really not scared… B-But… Gonta upset! Gonta upset… he no could protect everyone!”

Oh, Gonta. Of course he wouldn’t be scared to sacrifice himself for everyone’s sake when protecting everyone is what he’s desperately wanted to do this whole time. He’s just sad that he couldn’t have done it in a better way that isn’t this much of a tragic failure.

Gonta: “Gonta love you all!”

These are real-Gonta’s final words, and god, platonic “I love you”s melt my heart every time. Gonta is so pure and precious and of course he loves everyone here. They love you too, Gonta. (Even Kokichi kind of somewhat did, and that’s saying a hell of a lot coming from him.) You were the best and truest gentleman.

Alter Ego Gonta: “Gonta is so sorry… for being stupid!”

You’re not stupid! You’re the Gonta who remembers what Kaito said to you about how people who are stupid aren’t constantly thinking of how to save everyone else! That makes you one of the smartest people here!

So… I am extremely Not Okay with Gonta’s execution. I can still watch the thing, because I’ve become desensitised enough to these executions by now, but that doesn’t mean I remotely approve. Remember what I said back in chapter 1 about how some executions bother me because the character stops being a character and just becomes an object for this horrifying deathtrap? Yeah, exactly this. There’s no sense that the Gonta in the execution is still Gonta, our precious friend and gentleman who tried so hard, and not just a Gonta-shaped object. He said just moments ago how upset he felt that he’d failed everyone, but there’s no indication of that in this scene.

I do get that the writers made it so brutal because they wanted to emphasise how much this is making everybody else suffer to have to watch it, but they could still have done that while having Gonta still be a character, and honestly that’d probably have had more impact.

(Narrative purpose of the brutality aside, Gonta deserved to go to fluffy bug heaven, much like another DR character who was executed in a chapter 4. You know he did.)

Also, the execution music has lyrics? Which means that apparently the composer hasn’t forgotten about execution music lyrics and isn’t averse to putting them in the execution tracks in this game. These lyrics are something about the bottom of the ocean, which sure has literally nothing to do with anything that’s happening. Maybe there’s some secret law that states execution lyrics are only allowed when they’re completely irrelevant to the execution itself or something.

(I’m totally not mentioning this for a specific reason, of course.)

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pettishrew · 4 years

Photo

P E T E R P E T T I G R E W B A C K G R O U N D

BASICS:

Name: Peter Thomas Pettigrew Age: Twenty Birthday: August 22nd Job: Obliviator w/ the Department of Magical Accident and Catastrophes House: Gryffindor

PERSONALITY:

+ forgiving, analytical, easy-going, optimistic - forgiving - peter is the type of person that could be stepped one over and over again and he would forgive the person. It would be easy to say he would be bullied had it not been for the rest of the boys, but he probably wouldn’t have even considered it like that. He is so used to being the butt of the joke, or the scapegoat for a situation that he has grown very complicate and even willing falls into that role. This often makes him the best suited to be the mediator to some of the more temperamental discussions between them all. - analytical - although described my McGonagall as someone who was not as talented, smart, nor-popular as James and Sirius, Peter is extremely analytical. He likes to think through a situation before acting and being able to weigh and consider the various outcomes. This doesn’t mean that he is unwilling to go into risky situations, because he definitely is, but he likes to know what he stands to lose if things go sour. The world to him is a very large list of pros and cons, he is just ultimately deciding how the chips fall. - easy-going - as personalities go Peter provides a nice contrast to the rest of the boy because he tends to go with the flow, more excited to be included than opinionated on what they should do. He tends not to harbor a lot of stress and is very passive when it comes to a variety of topics. This makes him easy to be around, and sometimes he provides more of a wall for people to talk at than someone who is actively apart of the conversation. This makes him a stellar listener and someone to confide in. - optimistic - generally his outlook on the world leans toward the side of optimism, he likes to assure people that things are going to be all right even if it does not distinctly look like it’s going to actually be that way. This is also part of the reason he seemed to get low marks in classes because he was optimistic about the outcomes without always putting in the effort or work to receive a higher one. Overall his optimism is often a welcome change in a world that seems to be getting bleaker by the day. Just because his words are optimistic though doesn’t mean he wholeheartedly believes them. He would just rather lie to placate someone than strike fear in them. - fearful, cunning, indecisive, meek - fearful - peter’s main motivation in life has always been fear. It began when he was younger with his parents and has continued onto his adult life. War, in particular, makes people do things based out of fear, and Peter is not exempt. Him joining the Order in some blind faith act in his friends, in this lie that Gryffindor’s are always brave, and that they are going to win this. He is fearful of what they would think of him if he declines. He is fearful of a future in which he fights and dies. He is fearful of what happens if he lives. And most of all, his boggart even, has shown that his greatest fear is Lord Voldemort. He is plagued with the unending sense of doom that looms around them, and how inescapable it truly is. - cunning - peter pettigrew is a head shorter than Sirius their fourth year, and chubbier than him too according to Harry’s flashback. He is literally and figuratively looked over, not just by his friends, but by his enemies too. There is something about him, perhaps it’s his demeanor, that allows people to discredit his malicious intentions and motivations. It allows him to be cunning ( he was a hat stall between Slytherin and Gryffindor after all ) and uses that to his advantage. He was not some bumbling idiot that his memory would like to paint him, but he was smart and used to advance himself, even if it was to the detriment of his friends. - indecisive - to the annoyance of many of his friends it often takes Peter a long time to make any sort of decision. He is more easily swayed if he his prodded by someone else who has a stronger opinion and this is mostly due to how analytical he likes to be. There are very few things in life had has decided for himself without the proper time to actually consider everything, - meek - due to his fearful nature the boy tends to not be as outspoken as some of his other counterparts. He leans toward the meeker side and this often means that people who only interact with him in passing do not get to know who Peter actually is, or what would motivate him. This also contributes to why people are able to write him off so quickly despite his obvious talents for not only being supportive but also logical about his actions.

BIOGRAPHY: ( it’s not the trigger list but the bio has some emotional abuse aspects )

The Pettigrew Family is not one of any status. Poor Enid Pettigrew fell in love with muggle-born wizard Sean Morivan when they were freshly out of school themselves. Throughout their school careers, they did not accomplish anything worth noting, and this mediocrity continued onto their adult lives. They were distinctly middle class and never strived to provide above their means for their life. They saved where they could, spent minimally, and ultimately were on track to lead a quiet life. That was until Enid realized that she was pregnant, which was not in their life plan, but she had Peter anyway. It was tight on their budget and it was going to make their lives more difficult, but Enid loved the boy so much even before he was born that there was no contest. He was particularly close with his mother, but even in his youth, he could tell that there was a coldness from his father that he could not place. Peter tried his best to be just like his father, whether it was in intention or walking stance, his Father was the type of person that he wanted to grow up to be just like. However, Sean wanted less to do with him than that, he tolerated the boy but he was never nurturing. Enid tried to do the best for both of them, but she had her own shortcomings. She would leave Peter alone for long stretches of time so that he slowly learned that in order to survive he would have to care for himself. His existence was regulated to something that was better seen, but not heard, something that he adapted surprisingly well too. Throughout his youth, his Father would comment on the boy’s weight, or demeanor. His lack of skills when it came to practical muggle things that no one had even taken the time to teach him. His words stung on such a young mind, especially from the person who he strived to emulate most. He was not the only one this fell down on though, because as Peter grew older, the arguments that came from his parents grew louder. Sean would speak poorly about Enid’s ability as a mother, or the way she cooked, it was constant in his words, whether passive or active. He was a big lumbering figure who cast a big shadow. When he got home from work Peter would often hide in the closet in his room, trying to create a reality better for himself in there. Around his tenth birthday, a year shy of Hogwarts, his Father left out of the blue. It was mysterious and without a reason that Peter could find. Peter took on his Mother’s maiden last name as she reverted back to it and they were a small, but happier family for it. Old habits die hard though and Peter was never free from wishing that his Father would come back. Never free from thinking that he was the reason that he had left in the first place. As the boy headed off to Hogwarts he was worried about making friends, there were fewer opportunities in his childhood to form those sorts of connections. On top of that, he was unsure about what house he felt suited him best – his Father had been in Slytherin, but his Mother had been a Hufflepuff. There was no exception for what he was supposed to be and thus wasn’t sure what to root for. Luckily after his hat stall, he found himself in a sea of red and gold, making fast friends with Sirius, James, and Remus, who were the best people he had met in his entire life. He would have liked to think that he knew what friendship was before them, but he didn’t. They were much as a family as anything else he had and for the most part, he considered them as such. He was there to listen if they needed to rant or to help Remus study for his exams, more than anything he was happy to have a place where he felt not only safe but wanted. He had spent so much of his life with a poor opinion of himself that it was nice for the tides of change to overcome him while they were in school. However, throughout this time there was a lot of issues that Peter dealt with in unhealthy ways throughout his time, because it allowed him to fully experience the traumatic and unhealthy nature of his childhood, in a way that he had never been able to process before in order to spare Enid’s feelings on the matter. After Hogwarts, it hit him that perhaps throughout his time there he ought to have come up with a plan for his future. It was at the suggestion of one of the professors who had been keen enough to notice his non-verbal spell casting talents that he pursue a career with the Ministry as obliviator. It was not like he had any better plans, so that was what he pursued as the world around him began to shift. At the urging of his friends, he joined the Order – terrified – and began to be considered as someone who was apart of the resistance. In all honesty, the prospect of a war terrifies him. As he goes through the motions of weighing the pros and cons of what the outcome of his war has from him, he is beginning to be faced with the bleak realization that the odds might be stacked against them. He doesn’t dare say it aloud though, because saying it aloud makes it real and it’s better for now that it say a thought experiment.

HEADCANONS:

H1: Peter has always craved attention. There was always something about him that allowed him to naturally blend into the background. Overlooked, and undervalued, he found himself begging for his parent's attention, begging for the positive attention of an adult. Enid tried her best and probably came closest to that, but everyone else seemed to pass him by. McGonagall undervalues him, pinning him as a bumbling idiot before he can even display talent. His friends are a beacon, but they are also a metric to which he can be compared. He’s not as charming as James, or a smart as Remus, or as cool as Sirius. Peter is always compared to all the nots that comprise him, instead of the positives. Even if someone else doesn’t do it Peter will do it for himself.

H2: Peter truly enjoys his animagus form. Most people would have been disappointed with a rat, but it brought him a vague sense of comfort. He enjoys the fact that he is a smaller, faster animal in comparison with a larger animal. Not only is it easier to hide in dangerous situations but he likes being in smaller spaces. While most people might be unsettled and feel claustrophobic, Peter just finds it cozy. Something about the whole practice makes him feel safer. So he wouldn’t change it even if he could.

H3: Peter isn’t often one for vices, in fact by all accounts he’s a lightweight when it comes to liquor. He does have a pesky habit of smoking cigarettes though. It is something he picked up when he got out of Hogwarts. It was a way to destress from his chaotic job at times. It’s something that he has tried to quit a couple of times, but it keeps coming back to him. With the tensions with the war rising steadily since the Curse was laid out, he’s given up on dealing with that particular vice. He is often chided by his mother about the health concerns with them. So when he’s around the company who knows him well he is more likely to hide the habit than he would otherwise.

H4: Peter has an intense sweet tooth. Probably to the point where the attendants at Honeydukes know his name. When he was younger he collected a ton of the chocolate frog cards. He is also one that would share the wealth if there were people around him to do so. If chocolate frogs aren’t available Sugar Quills are his next favorite.

H5: Peter often has a stutter. It’s something that happened when he’s nervous. It was really pronounced when he was a kid. His mother would often tell him to work through it and envision the word. As he got older and grew comfortable so it doesn’t happen as often anymore. However, if he’s really intently nervous it will come out for a portion of the time. He hates it and will do his best to hide it if given the option.

#▲ ĸιlled мy old ѕelғ вυт тнe new мe ιѕn'т мυcн вeттer ( peter hc )#▲ text #// this isn't the task #// i wanted to get this up first and then the task

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siswritesyanderes · 5 years

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Hello! I was wondering if you can make this yandere story into an interesting perspective. Maybe a Newt Scamander x yandere slytherin reader. Reader is extremely popular and has a domineering personality, but she is drawn to newt, a timid shy Hufflepuff. He’s intimidated by her but likes leta lestrange. She finds out and does anything and everything to make him hers. (You can get creative on what she does). -Slytherin Queen

The worst part wasn’t that you had no business falling for the soft-spoken Hufflepuff to begin with.

It was surprising, though; your normal type was the sharp, witty specimen, usually from Slytherin (like yourself) or Ravenclaw. Someone to sharpen yourself against, someone who you could use to refine your own way of speaking, to make yourself the flawless linguist that you are. Once, you had even gone for a Gryffindor, just for the energy, for the loud, explosive arguments, just to be sure that you could dominate that battlefield as well, and you could. But Newt Scamander? Not only was he not someone to talk around (He barely spoke at all; where was the fun in that?), but you were rather certain that you weren’t just after how dating him would increase your social power. When you gazed after him, it was his gentleness, his sweetness, that you craved. Which was utter insanity, but not the worst part of it.

The worst part wasn’t that he chose Leta Lestrange, that pariah, to walk with and moon at with those guileless eyes.

It was agonizing, though, watching the way he willingly spoke with Lestrange, when getting three words out of him outside of class was normally like pulling teeth. Watching the way his walls fell as he regaled Lestrange with random facts about magical creatures- you only knew that that was what they spoke about because you managed to get it out of other people who walked closer to them. Yourself, you kept a subtle distance. It was agonizing. Infuriating. Made you want to grab Lestrange by her ankles and fling her off the Astronomy tower, or else take Newt Scamander by the shoulders and shake him, or possibly preferably both. But even that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was that you couldn’t even lie to yourself that he would choose you if he knew you.

Because he did know you.

Everyone knew you.

You were obscenely popular, absurdly well-liked. And even if Scamander had managed to isolate himself from the social scene of Hogwarts enough to not pick up on that, he had to have noticed you in class, outspoken as you were. You always made some remark that had the other students laughing, earning a pause and an indulgent smile from the teacher. And he was no wallflower in class, either, so he had to notice you. He absolutely noticed you.

And that made everything so much worse.

He knew who you were, how charming and attractive and likable, and he chose Lestrange as his little playmate. It was horrifying.

Because he was yours. He didn’t know it, because Lestrange had him caught up in the intrigue of her wounded rebel girl performance, but he was yours. His pretty face and his shy blush and his soft voice, his cute trivial fascinations, all of those were yours. And you didn’t mind other people enjoying what was yours- You would flaunt him, once he learned his place, and enjoy watching people admire him as much as you enjoyed having people admire your own beauty -but only on your terms. Which meant no dallying with Lestrange’s illegitimate daughter.

You considered every alleyway to him before you made your move.

You thought about using his brother, who was more social and therefore more accessible, but sizing up their relationship led you to doubt that Newt would favor someone because his brother introduced them.

You considered attacking Lestrange- socially, psychologically, even physically -but you were quick to surmise that adding to the brokenness that drew Newt to Leta in the first place would not be helpful.

And attacking his relationship with Leta? Tricking him, or her, in some way to make them fall apart? Risky. You didn’t know how he would react. It would be pleasing, to tear Lestrange from his life and place yourself in the void, but you couldn’t be sure that it would be a clean break, that it wouldn’t also damage his ability to trust or form connections. Newt did not have many friends, and while you hated that he had chosen Leta, the girl had at least done the job of making the foundation for you. That could be used to your advantage.

It was quite a puzzle, and a frustration, but you arrived at the conclusion that Lestrange was the pathway. Scamander was a Hufflepuff for a reason. And likewise, there was a reason that you were a Slytherin.

“Oh, stop that, won’t you, Milligan? She’s not bothering anybody.” You kept your tone casual, but it did the trick: everyone stared, Leta included. Milligan looked torn between obediently lowering her wand from its position (aimed at Leta’s chest) and asking you, the popular Slytherin girl who had just defended Leta Lestrange, if you were feeling quite well.

You glanced at Leta and saw that, while you had the girl’s attention, you would have to go a bit farther.

“Honestly, don’t you get bored of tormenting the poor thing?”

Lestrange blinked, then took advantage of Milligan’s perplexed distraction and ran off. Not a thanking type. Just as well; the seed was sown.

Word spread that Lestrange was under your protection, which resulted in mass confusion (not that you necessarily cared), fewer problems for Lestrange (which just barely mattered to you), and several curious glances from Newt.

Finally.

But that was only the sugar in the trap.

While you were extremely popular, not everyone in the school liked you. Quite the contrary; being extremely popular meant that people could not be indifferent to you (except apparently Newt), which in turn meant that anyone who didn’t grovel in your presence, detested you with all of their energy. And to those people, Leta Lestrange had just become an easy, less formidable target for their distaste for you. And you knew this.

So you used it.

You shadowed Newt and Leta when they went on one of their little walks on the grounds. Of course, in a space that open, you were noticed.

“What are you playing at?” Leta asked, holding her wand out threateningly as Newt looked at you with wary eyes.

“Sorry to follow you,” you replied placidly. “I have to warn you, though: I heard that Norton and her lot plan to ambush you if you go down into the Forest like you always do.” You had heard that Norton meant an ambush; Gryffindors liked to talk, and you were a good listener. Especially when your presence was an unwelcome secret.

“H-how do they know we always go down there?” Newt chimed in, and warmth filled you at having him willingly conversing with you.

“Everyone knows,” you answered bluntly, a crooked smile in place. “You aren’t exactly using Disillusionment Charms.”

“Why are you helping us?” Leta asked.

You had prepared for this question. You had crafted the perfect answer. “Why did you heal the baby raven?”

Lestrange had her surprised reaction, but your eyes were only on Newt, who had the most wonderful expression, like he had discovered that you were worth knowing. Like he wanted to know you. You wished you could freeze this moment in time, freeze him in that revelation. When you learned the spell to pull out your own memories, you would keep this one in a Pensieve forever, to revisit.

And sometime down the line, once you were secure that you had him, that he loved you with all of his power to love, you knew that you would probably punish him for the fact that there had ever been a time before this moment, that he hadn’t just sprung into being knowing who he belonged to.

And he would stay by your side, and people would compliment you on your pretty Hufflepuff (never ever using his name, out of respect for you), and they would ask before touching him ( “May I shake his hand?” ), and you would allow it or forbid it depending on your mood, and everyone would know that he was yours, and he would look at you just like this, with this exact level of wonder, all the time.

His interested look might not have seemed much to someone less resourceful than yourself, but you knew that your foot was in the door now. Now he was talking to you, and that was all you needed. A person willing to speak to you was a person about to be persuaded to your will.

Especially given what you hadn’t told them: It had actually been a lie that Norton’s ambush was planned for the Forest. Really, Norton would be ambushing Leta later, when she was alone, on her way to the Slytherin common room. And tenacious as Lestrange was, she would be no match for the group Norton planned to bring. Especially since you had Imperius’d one of them to do a bit more than just light bullying.

Leta would end up in St. Mungo’s, the perpetrator’s wand would be guilty of the spell (and it wasn’t like they could track an Imperius, especially on someone who didn’t remember being under it), and Newt would be suddenly without Leta’s deadweight.

But you had warned her about Norton. And, most importantly, Newt knew that you had warned her.

He would know that he was yours by the end of the week.

—-

(Not sure if this was what you were hoping for, Slytherin Queen Sis! I didn’t want to make you wait much longer though, lol. Hope you enjoyed it!)

#yandere #yandere reader #newt scamander

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