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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Note

Hi love!

Sorry for bothering you, but could you do something like really cute and fluffy between Charlie Weasley and reader where he's all shy and delicate maybe teaching her about dragons and their characteristics pls? Like, something that feels really intimate, you know?

I absolutely love your writing and I believe that you could make justice to the character.

Take care darling,

-A

Thank you for the request, loveliest anon! This is actually the first fic request I’ve ever gotten and I’m so happy you like my stuff so much, this makes me very very soft.

This fluff piece was just what I needed to get my mojo back hopefully. Please let me know if this is like what you had in mind - I for one had a lot of fun with it! <3

***

Favourites

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Word Count: ~ 2.800

As a Care of Magical Creatures test covering dragons of all things is imminent and you were too distracted in class to pay proper attention, you know just who to turn to for help.

“You want me to do what?”

Charlie Weasley blinked at you in confusion. He could feel his blood rushing in his ears as he looked at you standing in front of him, clutching you Care for Magical Creatures book to your chest as you raised your eyebrows at him.

“I asked if you could help me studying for the test next week?” you repeated your question, brow slightly furrowed. “I can’t keep track of all these dragon traits and who would know them better than you?”

Charlie felt the heat creeping up on his face. Of course, the test. It was all he had been able to think about ever since Professor Kettleburn had announced the topic; all except you of course.

He tried to formulate a coherent answer that wouldn’t make him look like a blabbering fool in front of you, but the way the dappled sunlight that broke through the trees reflected in your hair distracted him more than he cared to admit.

So he resorted to a weak nod. “Uhm, sure, I’d love to. See you at six in the library?” he managed to stammer out eventually.

A beautiful smile formed on your face as you nodded in enthusiasm. “Sounds great, see you there!”

Charlie watched as you swished around and walked back to your friends, who greeted you with giggles and whispers as they glanced in his direction. You gave one of them a playful swat on the arm, before your clear laugh carried over to him onto the warm summer air and made his heart clench.

He knew all of his dragons by heart, of course he did; this test was the first he hadn’t bothered studying for at all. But now, he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to prepare himself.

The light of the sun had already started to turn into the beautiful golden shade that heralded the end of a warm autumn day as you skittered into the library. You were a little bit late for your study session with Charlie, and the exertion from running all the way from your Common Room flushed your cheeks slightly red. Your friends just hadn’t let you go, all of them just as excited for what they called ‘your dragon date’ as you were. Not that you’d ever tell them that.

You found Charlie sitting at a table near the windows and your breath caught for a moment as you took in the warm light that washed around his frame; it was making his ginger hair glow like fire, the only vibrant speck of colour in this dusty old room full of books.

He had his nose buried in a big, leather-bound tome, his eyes darting over the pages frantically; you noticed how the tip of his tongue stuck out between his lips in concentration. He was so immersed in his reading, that he only noticed you approaching as you sat down next to him. Jumping in shock at your sudden appearance, he almost knocked over his ink bottle, only catching it at the last second before its dark, inky content could wash over the thin pages of his book.

“Oh, you’re here already, I didn’t even notice you until now.” His freckled face had flushed a shade darker than usual as he put his ink bottle back into its position and made room for you on the table.

“I’d rather say I’m here finally,” you responded, feeling a little bit guilty at making Charlie wait. “But I see that you started without me.”

He hurriedly closed the book. “No, I was just reading up on some facts about Welsh Greens so I have them sharp in my mind,” he explained, “in case you have questions, you know?”

It was only now that your eyes took in the numerous heaps of books piled up on your table. “First question,” you said as you ran your fingers over the backs of the tomes stacked on top of each other. “I thought the test was about dragons native to Europe and not every single one in existence,” you pulled out a particularly old looking book containing myths and fables, “and beyond.”

You silently counted the numbers of books Charlie had amassed and your eyes went wide. “Charlie, these must be all the books about dragons in the whole library,” you laughed, giggling at the flustered expression of the boy beside you.

“Well, not all the books,” he clarified sheepishly. “There are quite a few in the Restricted Section and then there’s the two I have up in my dorm but forgot to bring and- “

You cut off his rambling by gently touching his arm; he shut up almost instantly, glancing nervously down to where your hand was lying. “It’s alright, it was just a joke.”

“Of course,” Charlie muttered slightly embarrassed. What was wrong with him?

He watched as you pulled your notes from your bag; they were rather sparse compared to the almost three scrolls of parchment he had scribbled down himself.

“Where do you want to start?”

You hummed to yourself as you considered your choices. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread inside Charlie’s chest as you drew your lips into a pensive pout and tapped your index finger against it.

Finally, a neat stack of white flashcards, that lay hidden behind a book on Sea Serpents, caught your attention. You reached over Charlie and pulled them towards you.

Your mouth dropped open as you flicked through them; on every one of the laminated cards was an extensive profile of every kind of dragon imaginable. The descriptions were written out in a neat, accurate hand that looked nothing like the careless scrawl you’d seen on Charlie’s class notes.

But what took your breath away were the detailed drawings below the text. They were done by pencil and although they didn’t move like magical pictures often did, they were so lively as if they only waited to pounce off the paper and take into the air.

Charlie watched you apprehensively as your fingers traced the outline of what appeared to be a Swedish Short-snout. He felt his heart beat faster at the soft, admiring look in your eyes as you turned towards him.

“Did you do these yourself?”

He nodded in response. “It’s hard to find decent descriptions all in one place,” he explained quietly. “I don’t know how accurate the sketches are though; I’ve never seen a dragon in real life.”

You flashed him a radiant smile that had his heart rate pick up considerably. “I don’t care if they’re realistic; they’re brilliant!”

Encouraged by your excitement, he took the flashcards out of your hands and fanned them out, their blank backs facing you. “Then I’d suggest we start with them; pick one!”

Running the fingers along the cards twice, you finally settled on one and drew it out of his grasp. Charlie’s freckled face lit up as he saw which one you had chosen.

“The Ukrainian Ironbelly,” he exclaimed, “my favourite!”

All of his former shyness was suddenly forgotten; this was his prime discipline.

“The Ironbelly is native to the Ukraine, as its name suggests, obviously. It’s considered the largest dragon species in existence with an immense wingspan, long talons and scales that are said to be harder to pierce than steel. It’s name stems from the metallic grey colour of his underside and ever since one particular large specimen carried off a whole sailing ship in the late 18th century, they are under strict observation by wizarding authorities.”

You did your best to jot down the information Charlie dumped on you with impressive speed but there was no way you could keep up with his excited ramblings. So you resorted to listening to him as he lectured you about feeding habits, hunting methods and the average temperature of the flames an Ironbelly could produce.

He sighed wistfully as he paused for breath. “They’re amazing.”

You couldn’t hide your smile at his dreamy expression as you picked out your next card from the stack. “Okay, how about this one?”

The dragon it showed had ridges running along its back, ending in a nasty, arrow-shaped spike at the tip of its tail. It barred its teeth at you in a vicious snarl.

“That’s my favourite, the Hebridean Black,” he repeated his words from before, positively bouncing with energy this time around.

You glanced at the card you two had just worked your way through. “I thought the Ukrainian Ironbelly was your favourite?” you teased him.

Charlie’s bouncing stopped instantly as he blushed bright red; you hadn’t meant to bring him down and felt sorry all of a sudden. So you propped the card against one of the book piles and turned to him.

“So, tell me more about it.”

Relieved to be able to tread on secure ground again, Charlie immediately recounted all the facts about one of the two dragon breeds native to the British Isles to you.

You continued in this fashion; your pulled a random card from the stash and Charlie would tell you everything he knew about it. He grew more animated with every new flashcard; as it turned out, every dragon you talked about was his favourite.

Seeing him so caught up in his favourite subject had a warmth spread in your chest and the smile on your lips never vanished even once. You had given up on writing Charlie’s words down about four cards ago and were merely staring at him explaining to you everything about these fantastic beasts that made up all of his dreams and musings.

His excitement quickly spread to you and you found yourself hanging onto his every word. But the more you were listening to him, the more you found your concentration shift from the dragons you were discussing to the boy beside you.

Your head propped on your hand, you admired how recounting scale colours and preferred environments of Romanian Longhorns brought a twinkle to his blue eyes and how his contagious laugh had you chuckle at the idea that people would confuse a Hungarian Horntail with a Norwegian Ridgeback.

The dimples forming in his freckled cheeks as he smiled at you were the exact reason why you had needed help with studying for this test in the first place. When you had talked about dragons in class, the eager smile and the slight scrunch of his nose as he scribbled down every single word Professor Kettleburn had to spare had left you breathless and unable to concentrate on anything but the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

The pile of flash cards had dwindled down until only a few more were left. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned around your next pick; the pictured showed a slender dragon directly from the front. It’s wings were outstretched and it seemed to be staring directly at you out of wide, pupil-less eyes. It was the only drawing so far that was coloured.

Your finger traced the subtle colour gradient rippling over its pearly scales as Charlie looked over to see which one was next.

“The Antipodean Opaleye,” he murmured, taking in your fascinated expression, “it’s singularly coloured scales and eyes are the stuff of legends.”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, trying to imagine how the scales of a real life Opaleye might shimmer in the sunlight.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Charlie suddenly blurted out. The words had fallen from his lips before he’d even had a chance to stop them.

Both of you froze as what he had said sank into your consciousness. You couldn’t believe your ears and were half sure that your mind must have played a trick on you.

You carefully glanced over to Charlie out of the side of your eyes; he looked incredulous and you could watch the colour of his face turning from ghostly white to a deep, vivid scarlet that clashed with his ginger hair in a matter of seconds.

Feeling your own cheeks starting to blush at the unexpected compliment, you desperately were looking for something to say to take the shock out of his widened eyes. But your mind wasn’t working properly anymore, so all you managed was a meek “Wow, uhm, thank you Charlie, that’s really sweet.”

It was apparent your words didn’t help his flustered situation as he covered his face with his hands and groaned “I can’t believe I said that out loud; I’m such an idiot.”

You didn’t know what to do to help him; you felt utterly flattered and confused at the same time. You thought about putting your hand on his arm to reassure him what he had said actually made you happy, but paused halfway, not quite daring to touch him again.

Still unsure of what to do, you got up and picked up one of the books he had used to illustrate the facts on his flashcards.

“I’d better get going, I guess,” you stammered without looking at the wretched boy sitting at the table next to you, “thank you so much for helping me, I think I’ll manage the rest on my own. Can I borrow that book though?”

He didn’t raise his face from his hands, but nodded anyways. You felt bad for leaving him like that, but your head was spinning and you desperately needed to sort out your thoughts.

But seeing Charlie’s slumped frame sitting at the table, all the bubbly excitement from before completely drained from him, tugged at your heartstrings so hard it almost hurt. So instead of turning around and leaving, you drew a deep breath, gathered your courage and stepped behind him, placing a light kiss on his cheek.

You could feel his shoulders tense and his breath hitch as your hair tickled his jaw and were glad he couldn’t see the deep blush on your cheeks as you straightened up, picked up your bag and his book and hurried out of the library with a racing heart, too afraid to turn around once more.

Charlie and you hadn’t spoken again after what had happened in the library. It had taken him quite some time to be able to think properly again after you had left; he had just sat at his table, hand on his cheek where you had kissed him, staring into nothingness, the peachy smell of your hair still hanging in the air.

Even though the thought of how soft your lips had felt on your cheek had been the most prominent thing in his mind, he had passed his test with flying colours; some things just couldn’t be erased from his mind, no matter what was happening around him.

He had just returned to his dorm after a particularly tiring Quidditch practise when he saw it lying on his bed, propped up against his head bord; the book you had borrowed from him to finish studying on your own.

For a brief moment, he wondered how you had managed to get it up here, when he noticed something white sticking out of the pages. Curious, he picked up the book and flicked it open.

Even without looking, he knew what chapter it was you had marked with whatever you had put in there; he had read this book more times than he could remember. It was the chapter on the Antipodean Opaleye; he grimaced at the memory of when he had last thought about this particular dragon.

A white flashcard was stuck between the pages, its laminated surface flashing as Charlie turned it around to read it.

A big smile stole onto his face as he saw the photograph of you laughing and waving at him that you had stuck on the front side. His eyes swept over the lines written in your feminine hand and his smile grew even wider as he read the ‘special characteristics’ section:

It has to be remarked, that this particular specimen was able to pass her test with full marks.

He was glad to hear his blurted out compliment hadn’t affected your marks in the end. He sighed wistfully, when he noticed the very small, scribbled note at the very end of the card; it wasn’t as neatly written as the rest, almost as if your hands had shaken while writing it down.

Greatest weakness: While not many weaknesses are recorded of this specimen, it is said that it can be easily tamed by ginger-haired dragon trainers in the making. Whether these rumours are true, remains to be determined.

Charlie’s mouth dropped open as he read the last section over and over again, not daring to believe what he thought they said. But after the tenth time, he finally allowed the butterflies that had been fluttering in his stomach to spread into the rest of his body, his smile growing into the widest grin as he tucked the flashcard carefully into the book again.

This time, he was sure; this one was his favourite.

Tagging: @weasleysandwheezes

#harry potter #hphm #hogwarts mystery #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x reader #L writes #by request

215 notes · View notes

k-comfyspace · 3 years

Text

Neglected

Idol: Kim Chaewon, Kim Minju (Izone)

Request: Yes

Love: hi, i really love your writing! can i request a chaewon x minju x fem!reader where the reader wants to break up bc they seem happier without her but 2kim comforts her? angsty but with happy ending please? thank you!!!

A/n: Again can’t believe this is the first time I wrote this kind of story, take my privilege please! Ya’ll are just really nice, makes my heart soft and because I was in the mood to write, this is the longest scenario I’ve ever written🥺

You glanced outside the window, looking down at the field as you cleared your thoughts, trying to observe the students playing and exercising.

But really you were deep in your thoughts, struggling as you tried to figure out a solution, you knew they cared for you. You were the luckiest woman in the world to have the chance to date Minju and Chaewon.

To have them love you and show you sides that no fan has ever seen before, you knew it was too good to be true, and recently it’s been showing.

You never wanted to let your thoughts get the best of you. But recently you’ve found your relationship to be only centered around the two of them. Oftentimes you were stuck in school or you were back home doing projects, you would constantly cancel your time with them because you were busy, while they would just be a reach away.

You were the only one who was always busy, so you blame yourself that they were always happy being together because you were never there.

It would make you feel better if they had talked to you if they have any issues. But you couldn’t complain, how could you, not only is it your fault but they seemed a lot happier without you.

“Ms. L/n!” you snapped your head to the front, suddenly hearing your name as you realized the whole class was staring at you. Your professor included as he had his eyebrows furrowed, anger clear in his features before he asked you to stand.

“Could you answer the question, Ms. L/n?” He asked and you could only look down, hands behind your back before you heard him sigh, “Y/n this has been the 5th time this week, am I going to have to call in your parents?”

Your head shot up to look at your professor, shaking your head rapidly, “No, I’m sorry professor it won’t happen again, this is the last time,” you promised before he paused looking at your form and making you uneasy until he nodded, raising his finger towards you.

“One last time, Ms. L/n,”

“Thank you, sorry professor,”

Then the bell rang making you professor look at you with disappointment before he dismissed the class. You suddenly felt the guilt of the trouble you caused for the man as you left the room.

“It’s been the 5th time this week,” his words echoed in your head, your shoulders slumping as the reality dawned on you, that's because you kept in your issues so much that it started to show.

Your emptiness and sadness started to affect your performance, you were lucky that the professor was nice, if it were anyone else, your parents would’ve been interrogating you at this point.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the crowd behind you in the front was your girlfriend, following you with a smile as she held her bag, Minju caught up with you. Linking your arms together you suddenly jolted, jerking your hand as you earned a confused look from Minju.

“Sorry, I was thinking,” you played it off before Minju giggled and linked her arms with you again, “You’ve been thinking a lot these days, ba—Y/n,” you kept looking straight trying not to give too much away and ignored the slip up she had.

Of course the other students didn’t know, they couldn’t, since most of them were already wild enough as it is because out of all the people she chose L/n Y/n, to be the closest with and not to mention that her career only began 5 months ago so having a dating scandal this early on would surely affect not only her and Chaewon’s career but the rest as well.

“They’re dumping a lot of projects this week, so I’ve been a little out of it, sorry,” you apologized but your girlfriend could only shake her head before a sudden idea struck her, “You can come to the dorm and we’ll help you, Y/n!” She said and you could only shake your head.

“I don’t want to bother the other Minju, you’re already so busy I can’t just go there and interrupt,”

“Nonsense, Y/n, the girls practically adopted you when they met you, plus we’re on our break anyway.” She said and you were about to refuse but she cut you off, “You’ve been working too hard these days, baby, a little help wouldn’t be bad,” she said softly making your heart melt at her concern.

So with a conflicted heart and messy thoughts you agreed, your girlfriend cheering as she led you to the van.

—

“Y/n!” You smiled at the others waving as they greeted, “Baby,” Chaewon pushed herself off the couch and went to hug you and Minju as you forced a smile to convince the girls who cooed and playfully gaged at their members’ affection, but you didn’t quite fool all of them.

Your eyes landed on the blue haired girl, as Yujin gave you a soft smile when she saw the conflict in your eyes.

She was the first person you knew that was part of a group. Yujin was the perfect friend for you, she often matched your personality and she was a good listener.

Since in your first year at school she was the one that you got to know first, though you were both shy at first something eventually clicked until she introduced you to her friends.

Yujin was the person you could approach when you needed help with your girlfriends, even if she was young, Yujin did her best to listen to you and figure out a solution. Sometimes she was the reason why the three of you would make up when you had a problem, she cared for you like her big sister and you cared for her as your little sister.

So naturally when you started to have thoughts about Minju and Chaewon, Yujin was the first person you approached and ranted to, trying your best to not ruin their relationship as members while you ranted.

Thankfully Yujin didn’t think any bad things towards her unnie but she did find it quite annoying that her unnies were sweeter to each other than they are to you.

She’s been wanting to intervene, say how much they’re hurting you but to her displeasure you would constantly hold her back, saying it wasn’t a big deal. Which made it increasingly difficult to not be annoyed because of your niceness. If it was her she would’ve marched toward them and yelled out everything.

She admired that about you, that even if you were mistreated you would still forgive them and brush it off because it made the other happy, but sometimes it could be the reason you break.

—

Laying down on the floor, you did your best to write, tracing the sketch carefully as you ignored the couple giggling every so often. But in the corner of your eye, you could clearly see them, laughing as they kept talking about something. It was like they already forgot that they had someone else.

You gripped your pen, biting your tongue because you were afraid of blurting something out.

Yujin watched you from her spot, before she slowly made her way over next to you, nudging your body. As you looked over, she sent you a gentle smile keeping her voice low to avoid the others from hearing,

“If you need a second we can talk about it just say something,” she whispered and you smiled, sending your friend a thankful smile as you patted her knee.

Minju noticed you and Yujin whispering to each other, a small frown on her face as she wondered what you could’ve talked about.

“Hey, Y/n, is this good?” She called you, wanting to get your attention as she showed you her work on one of the parts you’ve given her. It was a weak attempt to get you because you were whispering with Yujin but you did glance over and gave her a smile.

Nodding at the work as you thanked her and said that she did a good job.

Throughout the night most of the girls had spent it finishing your projects, making sure to thank all the girls for their help. And throughout the night you had given yourself a fair distance away from the couple, focusing on your job as you plugged in your music or kept talking with Yujin who did her best to distract you, which you were infinitely grateful for.

However Minju and Chaewon had noticed you distancing yourself, it might’ve been their imaginations but you are so full of life when you spoke with the others, smiling as you replied excitedly or happily with the rest of the girls.

But whenever they would call for you, a short reply was all they got, even if they would try to hug you or say random sweet nothings, you would accept it but push away after a few seconds as you got back to your work.

You were slowly starting to get annoyed, partnered by your already conflicted feelings and with them constantly calling you for your attention, “Y/n we can we talk for a second, in private?” She whispered again which made you suddenly snap.

“I said I can handle it Yujin,” you said sharply, causing the younger girl to flinch, pursing her lips as she turned quiet.

You kept silent for the rest of the night, finishing your projects before you packed. You thanked the girls, making sure you showed them your gratitude and promised to repay them for their help.

Then you turned to your girlfriends, seeing both of them chatting, you wanted to thank them for helping but seeing them laugh so hard and so joyfully your mood was dampened again.

Your eyes however caught another sight, across the room Yujin cleaned up the mess, but the frown on her face was visible behind the curtain of hair she hid behind.

You sighed, approaching the girl and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Yujin glanced up, seeing a small smile on your face as you gestured your head to the side, “Let’s talk,” you said, which immediately the blue haired followed you.

Unbeknownst to them of the eyes watching as they went into the hallway, Yujin avoided your eyes before you rested your hand on her shoulder, “Hey, I’m sorry for snapping at you,” you started seeing her about to speak but you cut her off.

“Me going through stuff doesn’t give me a valid reason to be mad at you Yujin, you were only trying to help me and I’m grateful for that. I don’t want to bring you into my problems, I don’t want you hating on other people because of me, you’re a good friend Yujin-ah,” you finished, seeing a pout starting to form on the younger’s face as she couldn’t say anything.

You giggled, pulling her into a hug, noticing the two figures peeking from the living room. You pulled away and smiled at your best friend, ushering her away before the two other girls came into the hallway, looking at you with concerned faces.

You forced a smile, eyes lingering on their clasped hands, “Hey,” Chaewon greeted you as Minju smiled, reaching their hands out for yours.

Intertwining your fingers together used to make you feel everything, the slight dip in your stomach because of the excitement, your heart beating against your chest because it felt so full, and the tingling sensation on your skin because of their warmth.

Now everything seemed off, it felt incomplete, you wanted to pull away but you didn’t want to disconnect yourself from them, then the conflict in your eyes didn’t escape past both of them. Squeezing your hands before they asked you, “We just want you to be honest with us, Y/n,”

“Are you tired of us?”

The question shocked you, eyes snapping towards the two of them who looked at your with sad features,

“Because recently we’ve been noticing that you keep moving away, when we have plans you cancel, when we want to come over you say you’re busy, when we talk to you your responses are always short and empty. And we uh—wanted to know if, you still want to be with us,”

There was silence for a while, you looked at them in disbelief before pulling your hand away, your breathing getting heavier as you tried to contain your anger.

“Are you serious?” You asked, as they could only look at you with confusion, “You’re really gonna ask me a question when you yourselves are the ones who need it?”

“What do you—“

“I’ve spent the past week, torturing myself to forget, seeing you two being so sweet and caring for each other while I’m at the side being ignored. I keep canceling because I didn’t want to bear the fact that you two are starting to forget about me, that you’re too caught up with each other to even notice that I’m struggling.”

“I don’t want all of your attention, but please do keep in mind that there are other people in this relationship besides you two.” Your voice was getting louder, the girls in the living room perking up when they heard your voice.

Minju and Chaewon looked at you with mixed emotions, suddenly confused on why you would hide this from them silence lingered for a while the tension rising,

“Then why didn’t you tell us? Why choose to say it now? You have a lot of chances to say it but you didn’t,” Minju asked with a sudden tone to her voice, making you scoff in disbelief.

“You think I didn’t try?!”

“I’ve been wanting to say something everyday, I wanted to talk with you two just so this wouldn’t happen but everytime the three of us get together it’s like I never existed in the first place. I respected it at first, maybe you didn’t want to bother me but the way you feel for each other doesn’t go to me anymore, it feels one sided.”

At this point the girls already heard everything, looking at the three of you with their brows furrowed, they’ve seen you three fight but it never went to this level.

You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back your tears before Yujin padded to the three of you, but suddenly Chaewon spoke again, the words leaving her mouth made everyone’s breath hitch, “So how do we know you’re not sick of us? You might be seeing Yujin for all we know,”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief, looking at Chaewon. You couldn’t say anything, before your eyes snapped to Yujin who looked at the older with annoyance and anger,

“You’ve got some nerve to accuse Y/n like that, what’s gotten into you, Unnie? She’s your girlfriend for God’s sake!”

“How do we know for sure! She’s been ignoring us for the past week and has been with you, so sorry if I started to think that!” Their voices started to get louder before they started to argue, the girls stepping in and pulling them away from each other before anything got out of hand.

Your head started to hurt, your hands shaking as you saw them yelling at each other, “Just stop it!” You yelled, a voice echoing off the walls which made them pause, it was the first time you yelled that loud, tears streaming down your face as you tried your best to wipe them.

“This has nothing to do with Yujin, she’s the one that’s been helping me and convincing me that I don’t need to break up with you, but I didn’t think you would stoop so low and accuse me of seeing another person behind your back especially accusing your own member too.”

You turned, grabbing your coat and slamming the door, your footsteps rushing to the elevator before you left. Once the door shut a sob escaped your lips, a sudden weight on your shoulder every step you took away from the dorm.

—

The room was quiet, most of them staring at the door with shocked expressions, a scoff came from Chaewon as she stomped away, going to her room and slamming the door shut, Minju standing still with her eyes wide.

Yujin was breathing heavily, tears in her eyes as she walked away, hurriedly going inside her room.

A few minutes later Minju left, padding towards Chaewon’s room and entered, closing the door gently. Leaving the girls in the living room glancing at each other, the concern and worry in each of their eyes.

Weeks went by and the girls didn’t receive any contact from you, Minju couldn’t see you in school anymore, and Yujin couldn’t call you.

Which worried everyone to no end, they’ve been wanting to visit you but recently their schedules have been so packed that they didn’t have time to check.

Minju, Chaewon, and Yujin were quiet for the whole week, their interactions were minimal except when they were on camera. The girls didn't want to intervene, because this was their problem, but it hurt them with each day to see them ignoring each other.

So when one day Chaewon and Minju knocked on the door, Yujin opened it, her eyes suddenly turning wide when she saw the two in front of her door, their heads down as they guiltily fidgeted in their place.

“Can we talk, please?” Chaewon spoke up, raising her head to look at the younger who kept silent nodding as she stepped aside and allowed the two in the room.

They sat on the beds, the air awkward before Minju sighed, “We’re sorry,”

“We’re sorry for what we did, what we said and what we thought wasn’t right. We shouldn’t have accused you and doubted you we were wrong.”’

“I don’t like to be mad at you unnie’s, what you did was wrong, you did a lot of things that day that were wrong. I know I’m young but please don’t think that badly about Y/n unnie, the things she’s been telling me about you two, it’s something I don’t think I could go through, so please don’t apologize to me, apologize to her.”

Chaewon pulled the blue haired girl into a hug, Minju joining as they made up, Chaewon smiling as she whispered to the younger girl, “We will,”

—

When the girls had been given the week to rest, Minju and Chaewon didn’t waste a beat, rushing home and washing up before they asked their manager to bring them to your apartment.

They went to your door, using the key that they had hoping to see you but all they were met with was silence. No TV, no music, no sounds in the kitchen, they were sure that you were home because your shoes were beside the door.

They made sure to check every room calling out for you until Minju stopped at your room, opening it gently before she saw you on your bed, your body covered with sheets as you slept, as the soft snores passed your lips.

Minju called her girlfriend, both of them padding to your form and cupping your cheeks but worry struck them when they felt how warm you were.

Your forehead covered in a sheen of sweat before they looked at each other, you were sick.

They removed their coats, placing them aside as they took the blankets of your body. Chaewon went to get a basin and a towel while Minju got some clothes out of your closet before they cleaned you.

Minju cleaned up your room after Chaewon finished wiping your body, leaving the towel on your forehead to absorb all the heat.

Chaewon rummaged through your fridge and did what she could to make you some soup while Minju sat by your side, observing you as she suddenly felt whole again.

After a week of not seeing you, talking to you, it left her so empty and without her noticing a tear dropped before she started to cry silently, her eyes closed while she held the sheets until she felt someone cup her cheek.

Minju opened her eyes, a sob fully escaping her lips when you were smiling at her, wiping the tears that kept flowing out, “Why are you crying?” The softness of your voice made it worse for her and soon Chaewon entered, a tray in her hands with your food, water, and medicine.

When she saw you awake she froze at the door, her eyes welling with tears when you looked at her, no anger or disappointment in your eyes. She padded closer to you and placed the tray to the side before reaching for your hand, which you gladly gave her as she put it against her cheek, her own eyes stinging with tears.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Chaewon’s voice was so small, so defeated that it hurt you that she was going through that, even if it was her own fault.

“We l-love you, Y/n, please don’t ever forget that, we’re so sorry that we n-neglected you,” Minju nuzzled her cheek against your palm,

“P-Please give us a chance to be better, we w-won’t know what to do without you,” they inched in and embraced you, making you close your eyes when you felt them again but this time everything felt normal again.

The sinking feeling, the tingles, and your heart hammering against your chest. You felt whole to be with them for so long, “We’ll a-always love you, n-no matter what,” you felt your hair get brushed aside before they kissed your cheek and you could only sigh.

Your arms tighten around them as you want them to be closer. With a silent acceptance and promise they would always take care of you, show you how much you mean to them because truly they wouldn’t be who they are without you.

#izone #izone scenarios #izone imagines #girl group #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #izone chaewon #izone minju #kim minju #kim chaewon #minju #chaewon #minju scenarios #minju imagines #chaewon imagines #chaewon scenarios

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

Text

Angel’s Girl

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Angel wants everyone to know you’re his girl. Also, part of a request from @brownsugarcoffy/ Hi! I don't know if your taking any request, but I saw this picture of this necklace with Angel on it. I was wondering if you would write a imagine of Angel Reyes giving the reader a necklace with his name to claiming her as his old lady and now Angel now wants to only see her wearing his name as they make love. I really adore your writing and know you will do it justice. ❤

Warnings: A lil angst, a lil smut, a whole lotta fluff and cheesiness.

Here’s more of my work or if you would like to be notified here’s my taglist

At some point, you and Angel knew you had a forever kind of love. The kind of love where you get tattoos expressing that love. When it was your two-year anniversary, he propositioned the idea.

He showed you the sketches he drew of your name. He was so excited, that it physically hurt you to burst his bubble. “Angel, I love you, but there’s no way I’m getting your name tattooed on me.” Angel grabbed you by the back of your neck and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know, mi dulce. You’re too practical for that, so that’s why I drew you these.”

Moving his page of his drawing of your name Angel revealed a sheet of paper full of angel wings drawings. The one in the center, immediately caught your attention. “That one! That’s the one!”

“Yeah? You like it?” He asked nervously. Angel had only shown his drawings to you and EZ. He was too insecure to share them with to anyone else.

“Duh! And I’ll get ‘em on my fingers and go like this,” you flicked your wrist. “And tell them my super amazingly talented boyfriend drew them.”

“Handsome. Your super amazingly talented handsome boyfriend.”

“Oh, how could I forget!?” You smacked your forehead. “It’s okay, I forgive you.” He kissed your temple and listened to you plan when you and he would get the tattoos while he rubbed the ring finger you flicked at him earlier, thinking how well it would look with an engagement ring.

Angel just loved how you showed off your tattoos. Or better yet how you explained the meaning behind them. Club hang arounds? You flaunted that shit and in the next breath you threatened to punch them dead in the face if they ever disrespect you by flirting with Angel. Dudes hitting on you at the bar? You shot them down with the quickness and told them you only belonged to one person and fluttered your fingers like you were already married.

But one day the tattoos weren’t enough. Angel didn’t know what it was, but he knew he needed something else to say you’re his. An engagement ring was out of the question because he had yet to find the perfect one. Luckily, one day he stumbled onto a heart locket that had his name engraved in it and he knew that was it. That would show everyone you were his old lady.

When he brought the necklace to you, you were automatically in love, but you also had to tease him. He was practically going all caveman on you when he requested you always wear it. “Damn Angel, I might as well get your name tattooed on my forehead.”

“Angel!” You hit him as he was seriously mulling over the idea. “I’m just kidding, querdia. We want to take attention away from your big ole forehead not bring more to it.”

With your forgetful self, one day you forgot to put your necklace back on after the gym. That didn’t sit well with Angel, especially since you and him weren’t on the best of terms.

“Where the fuck is your necklace, Y/N?”

“In the car. I forgot to put it back on.” You set down your gym bag, went into the kitchen and got you a bottle of water.

“You forgot? Didn’t I tell you to keep it on at all times?” His insecurities were flaring up, driving him to be crazily possessive.

“Angel, I’m not your damn property! When you get that through your thick ass skull give me a call!” And with that you ran out the door with him calling after you was cut off by you slamming the door and running into your car.

That’s how you ended up at the bar, listening to some lame pickup lines.

“Angel, that’s a pretty name.” The guy pointed to your necklace.

Soon as you decided you were going to the bar you put the necklace back on. “It is.” You replied in a monotone voice, keeping your eyes straight ahead. He didn’t take the hint that you were not interested and continued to talk to you.

When you raised your glass to take a sip, he noticed your tattoos and made some corny joke. Somehow, he kept going even though that was like the fifth joke you didn’t laugh at.

From afar Angel was watching the interaction partly amused and partly jealous. He wanted you to tell the guy get lost, but he could clearly see your annoyance and it was funny to him. He decided he’ll let it go on for a little while longer to let you suffer some more unless it got out of hand.

“So, Angel what’s a beautiful girl like you doing here alone?” The stranger was about to put his hand on your thigh, but he finally picked up on some social cues and stopped himself. “I was enjoying my drink and my name’s not Angel.”

“What? It says it right there.” He pointed to your locket. Oh, this man was dumber than you thought. “Doesn’t mean it’s my name.”

“Then whose name is it?” He got defensive, he didn’t appreciate being made a fool of.

“Her boyfriend’s.” Angel finally decided to intervene when he saw the guy become agitated.

The sleazebag was about to be Billy badass, but then he saw Angel’s kutte and became a stuttering mess. “Sor-so-so-sor-sorry man, I didn’t know she was your girl. My bad.” He didn’t even give Angel time to threaten him. He ran off afraid of what could happen.

“Took you long enough off.” Halfway through your one-sided conversation with your unwanted suitor you saw Angel’s reflection through the bar’s mirror. “You knew I was here? Why didn’t you stop him?”

“I thought you would.”

Angel took your glass and drunk the rest of your drink. “Nah, it was too much fun seeing you suffer.”

“Asshole!” You playfully shoved Angel.

He started to laugh but it eventually died down. “I’m sorry, querida.”

“For being an asshole at home or being one here?”

“At home. That shit here was too funny.” He backed away before you could hit him again. “Seriously though, I’m sorry. I don’t think of you as my property. Yeah this,” Angel moved in closer to grab your necklace, “it means you’re my girl, but the deeper meaner is that you own my heart.”

“So that means I’m not your whore you can fuck however and whenever you want?” You asked with a smirk.

“Check, please!”

—

Angel had you twisted up like some damn pretzel, but you loved it. As soon as you got home, he got on his knees and made you cum three times with his mouth and he would’ve gone for the fourth if you didn’t beg him to fuck you.

“Shit! Who’s pussy is this?” Angel was pounding into you, his eyes were focused on your locket swinging against your neck. “It’s yours Daddy!”

“Damn right it is.” He took your left hand and sucked your ring finger. With his hand he took a hold of your neck. “And next time some little bitch tried talking to you, you shit that shit down. You understand me?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered with tears streaming down your face. Angel was too good at this. You could feel another orgasm mounting up and it felt like it would be the most powerful of all.

Angel noticed you trying to hold back your orgasm because he didn’t give you the permission to cum. “Good girl.” He praised you, leaning forward until your foreheads met. “Daddy’s making you feel good?”

“Yes,” you nodded your head, “You’re so big, I can feel you deep in my tummy.”

He pressed a hand to your stomach. “You’re right, princesa. I’m deep in them guts. But can you do me a favor baby girl?”

“Anything for you.” Angel smiled against your neck. “Cum all over daddy’s cock.” And just like that you did. You screamed Angel’s name at the top of your lungs almost drowning out his own shouts of pleasure.

After that thorough round you wanted to bundle up and go to sleep but Angel made you get up. “Hygiene over comfortability,” he said.

As you went to use the restroom, he changed the sheets and started the bath. Just before you joined him in the tub, he handed you your shower cap. It was blissful silence as you two cleaned up.

Again, Angel was rubbing in your left ring finger. Ever since you got the tattoo there, he’s been obsessed, but he never gave the same attention to your middle finger with the other angel wing.

“Angel?”

“Yes, querida?”

“Why do you keep a hand on my ring finger?”

“Man, I thought you were the smart one of us two.” You splashed some water his way and he quickly apologized knowing you could start a splash war like nothing.

He brought up said finger to his lips and kissed it. “Because I can’t stop imagining how good it’ll look with a ring on it.”

His answer appeased you which led you to your conditions of your proposal. Angel listened eagerly and ingrained each requirement in his head. There was no way he was gonna mess this up.

He hadn’t been shopping for it, he just accidentally stumbled on it while at the mall. Weeks later, Angel finally found the perfect engagement ring for you. He was so excited that he planned to propose that night, but your nails weren’t done and one of your requirements were to make sure your nails weren’t ‘raggedy’ as you would put it.

Then another couple of weeks later the opportunity presented itself. You were on your lunch break and you came to the clubhouse to spend it with him and the guys. Your mouth was full of tacos like chipmunk cheeks while you yelled ‘No fucking way!’ at Coco and Angel thought there was no one he rather spend the rest of his days with.

He did a quick check of your nails and they still look good from the day before. Yeah there were people around, but it was people you and him consider family. Your hair was done, and you had a nice outfit on, so all the boxes were checked.

“Querida,” he called out to you to stop you from arguing with Coco.

“Yeah babe?” You turned to him and found him on one knee. “Oh my god!” You jumped up and started wiggling around doing some weird celebratory dance.

The guys turned to see what was happening and they all cracked a smile. “About damn time.” Coco slapped the back of Angel’s shoulders. The rest of the Mayans came out with their guns out when they heard your screams, but quickly put them away when they saw what was happening.

Each time Angel tried to say something you would just squeal and continue dancing, not giving him a chance to get one-word in. “Prospect, get her.” Bishop ordered, seeing how uncomfortable Angel was getting from kneeling on the gravel.

EZ wrapped one arm around your shoulders and the other over your mouth. “I know you’re excited to be my sister-in-law, but you can’t say yes if he can’t ask the question. So, can you be quiet and be still?” You nodded your head fervently and EZ released you.

“Thanks, bro.” Angel cleared his throat before looking at you. He was getting nervous again, but then he saw how you had to contain your excitement and he was overwhelmed with love again. “You know I’m not good with words and shit, but I’ll try. You’re my everything, Y/N. You’re my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. I honestly can’t think of my life without you because it would be too depressing. God, I hope this isn’t too corny, but here it goes: what’s the point of an angel if there’s no heaven? So, with that being said, Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Angel was lucky he started to stand up because you tackled him once he slid the ring on. He was attacked with kisses all over his face and he wondered how could he had been worried about you saying no at all.

“You know you’re gonna be stuck with me forever, right?”

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine with that. What’s the point of heaven if I don’t have my Angel with me?” Forever with Angel sounded like paradise and you couldn’t wait.

Tagging: @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @sadeyesgf @woahitslucyylu @starrynite7114 @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @sambucky8 @mygirlrenee @ljstraightnochaser @my-rosegold-soul @angrythingstarlight @richonne4life @brattyfics @lovebennycolon @langiinspirations @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @spookys-girl @brownsugarcoffy @thesandbeneathmytoes @fvckthisbxtchup @theartisticqueen

#black!reader #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes fanfic #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fandom #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic

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mintaka14 · 3 years

Link

This is chapter 2 of my Dash & Lily inspired ML AU.

For the Lady’s Favour

A Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Two – Complicated Plans

“Delivery order,” Luka’s boss said laconically, and pushed a takeaway cup and a slip of paper across the counter towards Luka.

Delivery orders weren’t uncommon, but the address on the slip was, and Luka’s eyebrow climbed as he read it. His boss just shrugged.

“The customer paid extra for this one, so you’d better get going.”

At least it was a nice day to be making a delivery to the Trocadéro, and Luka headed out into the streets towards the gardens.

There were plenty of people clustered around the first bench from the northern entrance of the park, and the second, but there was only one at the third bench. He could see pigtails, and a girl bent over the sketchbook in her lap. As he got closer, he caught a glimpse of an assortment of clothing, notes and scribbles and odd sketches around the edges.

“Delivery for the lady at the third bench?” he called out, and his attention was caught by the figure she seemed to be working on. Was that… Jagged Stone? This girl had good taste in music, clearly, and the coat she’d sketched on him looked amazing.

“Hey, that’s really –“ The girl looked up, and Luka completely lost his train of thought as he found himself staring into endlessly blue eyes. Holy shit.

“Is that my coffee?” she asked with a tentative smile, and Luka jerked back to attention. He looked down at the chocolate and fluff with extra everything and all the froufrou his boss had been able to jam into one cup.

“Not exactly.”

The girl’s eyes fell on the cup in his hands, and she let out a soft breath.

“I guess he has a sweet tooth,” she said, and he handed her the cup, trying not to react to the brush of her fingers.

“You didn’t see who placed the order?” she asked a little wistfully. “It- it wasn’t you, was it?”

“Me?” Luka was still reeling under the impact of those blue, blue eyes. “Right now, I wish it had been.”

He nodded at the cup of chocolate and marshmallow fluff in her hands. “Although I’m more of a coffee guy.”

She lit up in a smile, and any semblance of rational thought that Luka had left was gone. Damn, she was just too gorgeous.

“Me too, to be honest. I wouldn’t get half the things I need to do done without a regular caffeine hit. Are you a night owl too?”

“Too often, yeah. It kind of comes with the territory.”

She raised an eyebrow at that, and he found himself talking more.

“I play in a couple of bands, and I’d keep falling asleep over my guitar in the middle of a gig without coffee to keep me going.”

“You’re a musician?”

He grinned and ducked his head in acknowledgement. “What about you? What keeps you up at night?”

It was only after he’d said it that he realised how that could have sounded, but the girl didn’t seem to notice.

“Design and sewing.” She let out a faint huff. “The middle of the night always seems to be about the only time I can focus on my projects without something interrupting me, so… coffee.” She pulled a face at the mountain of fluffy chocolate in her hand, and then seemed to realise that they were still standing in the middle of the park. She backed up a reluctant step. “I should – I should stop holding you up. You probably need to get back to work, and here I’m – Sorry. Thanks for bringing me the hot chocolate.”

“You can hold me up any time,” he sighed, but only when she was out of hearing. He turned and headed back towards the coffee shop, but he came to an abrupt stop at the sound of running footsteps and the touch of a hand on his arm.

“Sorry, sorry!” the girl gasped. She held out a raspberry red macaron wrapped in cellophane and ribbon. It was a work of art. “I nearly forgot. Could you give this to the person who ordered the hot chocolate for me?”

“It looks like a ladybug,” he said stupidly, and she blushed again. “No, it’s cute. Lucky.”

“I could use a bit of luck,” she muttered, then she met his eyes and her smile grew brighter. “It was really nice to meet you, Luka. Thanks for my sugar rush.”

Luka’s malfunctioning brain caught on that. “You know my name?”

And the girl’s face flamed into embarrassment. “I don’t… you… the thing…” She gave up and nodded at his chest, and the name tag that was still there.

Ah. Of course.

“I’m Ma-ma-marinette,” she offered, tripping over her own name.

“Pretty name. It suits you.” Judging from the way her cheeks burned even brighter, his tone had been a little more heartfelt than he’d intended, and, reluctantly, he backed up a step. “Guess I’d better get back before my boss notices I’m missing and decides to fire me.”

The smile she gave him almost knocked him on his ass, and he turned away before he could make even more of an idiot of himself. There was something niggling at the back of his mind, though.

Luka stopped and turned back.

“Marinette,” he said. “Wait, do you know Juleka Couffaine?”

“We were in the same class for a few years,” Marinette admitted. “We hang out sometimes.”

“You’re Marinette! I heard all about you from Jules after that thing with the school photo.” He could have kissed her for what she’d done for his baby sister’s self-confidence, and if half the things he’d heard from Juleka were true, this girl was every bit as incredible as he’d just been imagining. He realised he was beaming at her like a fool, and tried to dial it back a bit.

“Nothing too bad, I hope,” she said, sounding a little alarmed, and he felt his smile soften.

“Nothing bad at all.”

When he finally got back to the coffee shop, Luka had barely had time to slide behind the counter and sling an apron around his waist again before the door swung open with an enthusiastic peal of the bell. He looked up to find Adrien Agreste heading towards the counter with an expression of barely concealed nervous anticipation on his famous features.

Luka gave him an easy smile, but before he could ask what the model wanted, Adrien had blurted out, “Did she like it? Did… were you the one who delivered the hot chocolate for me? Was she there?”

So Marinette’s mystery hot chocolate was Paris’ beloved poster boy.

Luka silently handed him the macaron that Marinette had asked him to deliver, and watched the model’s face light up like Christmas had come early.

~~~~~

Marinette was not surprised when Alya burst into her bedroom without so much as a greeting.

“So?” Alya said impatiently. “How did it go?”

“He sent me hot chocolate. I think I’m still in sugar shock, Alya, but the boy who delivered it was so funny and sweet about it –“

“Never mind the delivery guy,” Alya cut her off. “Your mystery guy came through! You had your first date with him… feel free to tell me I’m a genius any time now. This is a good start. The whole idea is for you to get to know each other before you meet, so you need to write to him and get him to do something to show he’s serious here.”

“Like what?”

Alya shrugged. “You’re the one with the plans. You just have to come up with something you can get him to do that doesn’t involve you meeting face to face, something he can do to win your favour.”

“Yes, but it’s not like I can ask him to fight a duel for my honour or something…” Marinette trailed off. “Fight,” she repeated thoughtfully.

“I know that look,” Alya nudged her shoulder. “That’s a plan happening, isn’t it?”

Marinette grabbed a sheet of notepaper from her desk, and her favourite pen.

“Ultimate Mecha Strike,” she announced.

“What?”

“An online challenge. It’s perfect. We don’t have to meet in person, but we can play each other online and find out a bit more about each other.”

Alya was looking as if she wasn’t sure if it was a bad idea or brilliant.

“What if he doesn’t play UMS?”

“Then I can teach him.”

“And what if he doesn’t like getting whomped?” Alya asked sceptically. She was very familiar with Marinette’s playing style, and Marinette made a face, still concentrating on the note she was writing.

“Then it’s better to find out now that he’s a sore loser, before I get too attached.”

Marinette read over the note, and folded it, presenting it to Alya with a flourish. Alya grinned, and tucked it into her bag.

“Right,” she said, getting to her feet. “Let’s see if he’ll fight for your hand. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Once Alya had clattered down the steps again, Marinette buried her face in her pillow and screamed quietly. This was a bad, bad idea.

~~~~~

Luka was wiping down the counter when the bell chimed over the door, and he paused as Alya came in. It wasn’t unusual to see her in the café, but it was unusual to see her there without Nino or their friends. He watched curiously as she sidled almost furtively towards the noticeboard and tacked something up between the band posters and lost and found notices.

“What are you up to?” Luka asked, and Alya leaped, her hand going to her chest as she spun around.

“Jeez! You startled me.”

Luka tipped his head at the envelope she’d just pinned up. “I saw you the other day, when you put that letter on the board, and now this one. What’s that all about?”

“Aren’t we allowed to use the public noticeboard?” Alya asked, her hands going to her hips and a defensive note in her voice.

“And that hot chocolate delivery the other day?”

Alya huffed in response, but Luka just kept watching her with a look of mild interest, until she said, “It’s just like this game. Sort of. Like a blind date, without actually knowing who you’re dating.”

Luka’s eyebrow climbed.

“Look, we have these friends who’d be perfect for each other, but she can’t talk to him, and he’s completely clueless, so we’re trying to set them up.”

“Right,” Luka said slowly. “Does Marinette know about this?”

“Well, she doesn’t know who it is,” Alya muttered. “But she’s had this huge crush on Adrien for ages. We’re just getting them to set each other challenges, doing stuff like that coffee delivery, or… I don’t know, looking for a painting at the Louvre, something like that. Like dates, where they don’t actually meet.” Alya gave a sudden grin. “It’s going to be so hilarious when they finally work out who they’re writing to.”

“Is this some kind of practical joke?” he asked flatly, his heart sinking a little for Marinette’s sake, but Alya’s angry reaction was somewhat reassuring.

“Like I’d do that to my girl!” she said indignantly. “This is just… a creative way to help her get past some stuff. You met Marinette, so you know how she trips all over herself and stutters?”

She’d certainly stumbled over their names when she’d gotten flustered, but Marinette had been perfectly coherent through most of their conversation. Alya must have taken Luka’s expression as agreement, though, because she barrelled on.

“Well, imagine that, but like a million times worse. Girl just cannot string a sentence together around a guy she likes. And Adrien, well, he’s great with knowing what to say to his fans, and being polite to other models and his father’s business contacts, but not so good with,” Alya gestured vaguely, “normal stuff. He’s never really noticed Marinette like that, because he’s not real good with subtle, but he buys into that whole romantic movie, big gesture, winning the lady thing.”

“And that’s where this comes in?” Luka asked drily, nodding at the letter pinned to the board.

“Exactly!” Alya smacked her hands on the counter. “It’s like something out of one of those old movies. We get Adrien’s attention with the whole romantic mystery thing, and in the meantime, they can get to know each other. Marinette can talk to Adrien, because she doesn’t have to actually talk to him and she doesn’t know it’s him anyway, and Adrien can get to see how amazing my girl really is.”

“This seems like a very complicated way of doing things,” he pointed out as neutrally as possible, but Alya waved away the observation with a flip of her hand.

“You don’t know Marinette. Everything tends to be complicated with her.”

“If Marinette can’t actually talk to him in person, maybe he’s not the right one for her.”

“Oh, please! She’s been in love with him forever. Love makes you do stupid things, and she just needs a bit of a push in the right direction. I know Marinette.” Alya narrowed her eyes at him. “And what’s it got to do with you anyway?”

Luka just shook his head, not trusting himself to respond. He was honest enough with himself to admit that the pang of disappointment he’d felt when he found out that Marinette was interested in someone else might have had something to do with his judgement here, but even so, this had all the makings of a trainwreck of epic proportions. He didn’t, however, need Alya’s measuring gaze to know that it was none of his business, not if Marinette wanted this.

He shrugged, and turned away to straighten the coffee cups.

“It’s nothing to do with me,” he told her, and the note stayed pinned to the board until Adrien came in again some time later to collect it. And if Luka’s heart sank a little at the eager expression on Adrien’s face, and the thought that maybe this ridiculous plan might actually work, then he kept that to himself.

#lukanette #pro lukamari #endgame lukanette #dash & lily #shenanigans #for the lady's favour

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

Text

Ladybug in Smallville

You can’t fix a broken heart, her grandmother told when Marinette was young and had ask why the older woman why she never remarried.

“You can forgive here,” Gina Dupain had pointed to her head. “And you can tell yourself every day that you forgive him, that all is well. And maybe you do. Maybe not right away, like you tell people but eventually… you do. You move on. You find some kind of peace. But that doesn’t mean your heart’s forgotten. Especially during the worst of it, when it’ll remind you every day just how much you’re still hurting.”

The silver haired woman had look so dejected, so cynical compared to her usual chipper, charming self that it left the little girl stunned.

“Until one day, it doesn’t,” Gina continued. “And yet, your heart’s not the same. You’re not the same. No matter what you tell yourself. Sometimes, you’d swear it’s just a giant scar on your heart. Because at least that means it’s healed; beaten up, bruised, and permanently disfigured but healed. Other days when you think too hard about it, and you are walking through memory lane; you can just barely admit the truth. That you can still feel every jagged edge, sharp angle still there from a shattered heart. And once on a very blue moon, you admit to yourself the truth; you can’t fix a broken heart. It’ll always be broken. Love has consequences.”

She looked Marinette deep in the eyes, “The trick is learning to live with it. Learning that a broken heart doesn’t mean it doesn’t work.”

“Broken… but still good,” Marinette quoted Lilo and Stitch.

Her grandmother beamed, “One of the hardest things is the world, sweetie, is to not let that broken heart stop you. You can cry. You can be angry. You can vengeance on the entire world. As long as you never let it stop you from living.”

“And loving?” Marinette asked. “You learned to love again.”

There was a pause. A thoughtful look. And then a sigh, as Gina finally answered, “No, I never fell in love again. I could never trust the same as I did before. Never managed to figure out how to love with all of my heart like I used to when I was young. And it always felt wrong not you; but that’s just me. I learned to love myself, though. And that is the greatest thing you can ever learn. Love yourself.”

Marinette had been nine-years-old at the time and hadn’t quite understood what her grandmother had been talking about. But she never forgot, the cold look on her grandmother’s face and the sorrow in her eyes.

It was only years later, when the biggest liar to ever walk the planet proved that not all villains are easily defeated, when her friends had all turned their backs on her, when the boy who she swore she was going to marry someday was more of a cowardly frog than a prince, when even her parents bought the fabrication of Marinette being a bully, a thief, a jealous liar that Marinette finally understood. Because not only had her heart been broken, but it had been shattered.

Marinette couldn’t even go to Fu as the man had used the last of his power in a fight against Hawkmoth because Chat Noir never showed up and Fu refused to give out Miraculous to people Marinette didn’t trust so the turtle had to fight. They had won but Marinette swore she’d never forgive Chat Noir for not showing up and costing a good man his life, and Marinette her mentor.

Master Fu’s last act had to strip Chat Noir of his ring and name Marinette the new guardian. Before he faded, he warned Marinette that some people weren’t worth fighting for. Sometimes, a hero’s first priority has to be to save themselves.

However, even then, Marinette had refused to give up. She kept trying to get her friends to listen, even when they made it clear they weren’t her friends anymore. Most didn’t reply to the texts anymore. And the ones that did, Alya mostly, ridiculed her; scorned Marinette’s very existence.

She tried to get Adrien to stand up and help her like he’d promised, only for him to ignore her calls, texts, and have Nathalie tell her that he didn’t want to be involved.

Despite the furious silent treatment from her mother and her father’s disappointed looks, Marinette still tried to convince them of her innocence. She had begged for them to listen to her, to trust that they raised her right, to believe her. It was only after two weeks into her expulsion, when Marinette found luggage waiting by the door that Marinette understood. Nothing would change their minds.

They explained quickly that Marinette was going to be sent to live with her father’s godmother, one of his mother’s best friends. A good woman who promised to set Marinette straight. Or at least keep her out of trouble.

Marinette was on a plane an two hours later to a little old Kansas and then to a small town rightly called Smallville.

A kindly older blond man name Jonathan Kent had met her at the airport. Marinette had given him a polite, quiet, greeting and when mute for the rest of the ride to their farm. She hadn’t known what to expect. Feared the worst. Feared that they thought she was the bully her.

As soon as they arrived at the farm, a rather pretty greying redheaded woman walked out of her house with a mixing bowl in one hand and a sturdy wooden spoon in the other. Marinette steeled herself as she got out of the car. She raised her head up, “Bonjour, Madam.”

“Well, aren’t you the sweetest little thing,” The woman had greeted. “And I swear, you look just like your grandmother. It’s that spark in your eyes. Every time I saw it, I knew there was going to be trouble. Particularly, for the fools that messed with her. That’s how my cheating ex boyfriend’s dorm accidently caught on fire.”

Marinette blinked once. Then twice. What?

“Accidently, Martha?” Jonathan chuckled as he got Marinette’s bags out of the car.

Martha shot him a smile, “They could never prove otherwise.” She looked Marinette over, “Gina said your parents have their heads in a place sun just can’t seem to reach. Wanted to me to look after you. Get you away from all that drama. Get you with family. And the lord knows, that woman doesn’t know how to sit her butt anywhere long enough to leave an imprint. So come on inside, let’s get you unpacked and some food inside you.”

Aunt Martha, as Marinette had been instructed to call her, had led her to an empty room that was just a bit bigger than the one she used to have and had a desk by a large window, a twin bed covered in a plaid blanket, and a few other standard amenities. Plus an old sewing machine on the desk. Marinette’s eyes lit up at the sight of it.

“Your grandma told me you like to design,” Aunt Martha smiled kindly. “I don’t use old Bertha myself anymore but I’d thought you’d like her. You can decorate your room anyway you’d like. Let me know if you need any help.”

Marinette nodded and couldn’t stop herself from hugging the woman. She hadn’t been able to take much with her (Clothes, phone, laptop, a stuffed animal or two, the guardian box) but she made sure to bring all her sketch books and had just barely enough time and money to drop off a few boxes of her designing equipment and supplies at the local mail service carrier to be shipped to the farm in the upcoming weeks. The fear had been weighing on her of what ifs. What if it all got lost in the mail? What if Marinette couldn’t design anymore?

Martha simply hugged her back, no probing questions. When Marinette let go, Martha said, “Now Kara and Conner’s rooms are either side of you. Conner’s mostly here on the weekends. Kara visits enough to still have room. They can be a… little nosy. But ignore it. My son, Clark, is visiting next week. They just can’t wait to meet you. I wouldn’t be surprised be any of them suddenly drops in.” She laughed, and it sounded a little like jingle bells.

Then suddenly, Martha straightened up and gave Marinette a soft look, “You let me know if you need to talk or… Anything really.”

Marinette felt her throat close up a bit and nodded stiffly.

“Dinner will be on the table soon.”

“May I help, Madam?” Marinette asked.

Martha looked her over, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You can go ahead and get settled in.”

Marinette blinked again. No one ever turned down her offer to help before. “I want to.” And so she did.

Cooking with Aunting Martha was different that with her parents. While, she knew her parents loved to bake. It always felt like a job with them. One more responsibility Marinette had. Cooking with Aunt Martha was relaxing. They shared stories with each other and Marinette got more insight of her grandmother’s past than she ever had before. And even when it got silent, Marinette didn’t feel the need to fill it for once. And neither did Martha. It was nice.

Eating dinner had been the same. Enjoyable and lovely with promises of teaching Marinette all about the farm. Uncle John laughing at wide-eyed Marinette reaction to idea of her milking a cow. It was a relief not to deal with her mother’s stony silence and her father’s blatant disapproval.

Marinette knew from just one night that the Kents were good people and if she let herself, she could enjoy her time there. That didn’t stop Marinette from crying herself to sleep for a few nights.

During her first week, Marinette didn’t hear a word from her parents. Or the second. Marinette knew they were more than likely waiting for her to make the first move like she always did.

But unfortunately for them, Marinette was done. She was done with fake friends and disappointing crushes. She was done with being made out to be the bad guy. She was done always being the one to fix everything. Save everyone. Because she knew, without a doubt, that this time. Her first priority had to be save herself. Marinette had to fix herself. (Of course, Marinette still had to use the horse miraculous to go save Paris nearly every day but innocents needed her help.)

So Marinette let herself be immersed in the smallville way of life. She helped out of the farm. She competed with Aunt Martha over who had the best pie recipe. Blinked in confusion when Martha wrapped a plate of Marinette’s special double chocolate salt caramel cookies to be delivered and muttered something about “Alfred finally getting his” and the Kent family reigning victorious. Marinette had just been happy to be considered family.

Speaking of family, Marinette had become rather fond of her new “Cousins”. Jon was the youngest and reminded Marinette of a very hyperactive puppy. He constantly dragged Marinette away to play games and pretend. Connor was a bit sullen but had turned out to be a giant teddy bear once he opened up. He loved to talk about his friends; particularly someone named Tim. The beautiful blond Kara loved girl talk and arm wrestling Connor. She raved about Marinette’s designs and over her pictures with Jagged Stone. Clark, the oldest of her cousin, was a sweetheart; a geeky reporter who was married to a man named Bruce, worked mainly out of Metropolis, and had somewhere between five to seven kids. There was a lot of names and nicknames that left Marinette’s head spinning.

None of them had taken kindly to Marinette’s story of how she ended up on the Kent farm. Wondering who could bully such a sweet angel?

Though Marinette decided he wasn’t ever going to be her favorite after the blueberry scone incident.

Over the next few months, Marinette learned what her grandmother had meant about letting herself be angry and getting some vengeance. Because was allowed to be angry. And she was allowed to get payback.

After a rather nasty Akuma, Ladybug had taken the time to do an interview with Nadja. She had confirmed that Chat Noir was never returning, that the Ladyblog and its journalist had lost her trust forever after Ladybug had learned about the lies the blog was posting.

“What lies,” Nadja had asked, glad to finally stick it to the girl, Alya, who had been so mean to her honorary niece.

“Well for example, who the hell is Lila Rossi?” Ladybug asked when Nadja pulled up the website on the blue screen behind them. They scrolled through the website pointing out lies and inaccuracies. “That girl is not my best friend. I saved her from her own akuma save five times now. That’s it. I don’t know the girl. I don’t like the girl. What was written would only serve to put Lila in danger. And what’s this about Lila saving Jagged Stone’s cat? From a plane? Which airline was this? Who could be so careless?”

Nadja nodded and looked quite stunned herself at what was on the blog. “I highly doubt Clara Nightingale stole Lila’s dance moves. Or strictly guarded Prince Ali invites random girls, even Ambassador’s daughter, to discuss his country go green intuitive. Or that she came up with the entire plan herself. This is just ridiculous! And what this about you curing Tinnitus?”

Ladybug quickly shook her head, “That’s not possible. And it gives people false hope.”

“So Lila’s lying,” Nadja had to fight to keep the smugness out of her voice. She had told Sabine she was wrong. Had been absolutely furious that Marinette had been sent away. Some journalist should really learn Check Her Sources.” She said the last part with a smirk. “And what’s this about Gordon Ramsey?”

It went on from there, with brief intervals so Marinette could recharge. Ladybug had blasted her former school, its’ principle, and her old teacher Bustier to shreds. For allowing bullying of students, victim blaming, and sheer negligence. Reciting how many times Ladybug had to deal with akuma from that school, particularly from Bustier’s class.

“I heard one poor girl even got expelled,” Ladybug shook her head. “From what I’ve heard, there was no investigation, just word of mouth, easily planted evidence, and then expulsion. I’m surprised I didn’t have to deal with her Akuma.” Ladybug’s sad tone was clear to hear. “I looked into the incident a bit. A rather brilliant Robot name Markov had been recording the room at the time.” Marinette nodded to the screen. “I had them blur the students faces for security reasons. The girl with the short hair is the victim in question.”

The video played. And it was clear that a long haired girl had stolen the answer and planted them.

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t fix the issue,” Ladybug sighed. “By the time, I heard of it girl was been sent away by her parents. Not even they believed her.”

“I know the girl you’re speaking about,” Nadja frowned. “She’s stronger than she looks. Still, she deserved better. I swear to you that I’ll be leading the charge in investigating the wrongful expulsion.”

Ladybug smiled.

It took less than an hour after the interview to air for Marinette’s phone to start blowing up. Her ex-friends, her old classmates texted up a storm of apologies.

The call from her parents had come in no longer after. Her father had full of apologies and swore to make it up to her. Her mother had been in tears.

They were met with silence from Marinette. A forgive didn’t come. Marinette made it clear she still loved them but she was staying with the Kents. She would not be returning to Paris. It was her father’s turn to cry.

Marinette would forgive them in time. But that wasn’t her priority was herself at the moment.

While the Kents, Marinette was free to just be Marinette. Not anyone’s “Everyday Ladybug”. And was finding that she liked who she was.

She liked designing clothes for Kara and dresses for Aunt Martha. Doing everything possible to get Clark out of plain. (She would be victorious!) She liked hanging out around town with Connor and being someone’s little sister, as he called her. Though she wouldn’t mind if he lost the overprotective streak. She wasn’t some damsel in destress. There was no more panic attacks. No more dealing with pushing best friends. No more waste time on crush on a blond loser.

The only near heart attack she had was the blueberry scone incident. Marinette had gotten an akuma alert. She had yelled to Aunt Martha that she was going on a walk, hid behind the farm, transformed and portal’d away.

Unfortunately, Uncle Clark had heard that Marinette had made her famous scones and had been FLYING overhead to the house at the time and had saw her.

Uncle Clark had been waiting for her when she got back, with crossed arms and a stern look on his face. Before Marinette could open up her mouth to give a multitude of excuses, Clark held up one hand to silence her. Then he spun around faster than she’d ever seen anyone do before. And then Superman was standing in front of her.

Marinette’s heart had stopped, she’d swear.

After that they both de-transformed. Uncle Clark had led her inside where the entire Kent family was waiting.

Turns out Uncle Clark was a tattletale. And he was never going to be her favorite.

“Snitch,” She told him simply before anyone could say anything.

Clark blushed a little but shrugged.

After that everyone introduced themselves. Or rather their superhero identities. Each taking turns to tell their story. Marinette had shed a few tears about the loss of Krypton. Marinette had introduce the Kwamis’ to the Kents. Jon had let out a squeal of joy at the sight flying creatures.

Aunt Martha had only laughed when Plagg flew up to her face and said, “Cheese.”

Marinette told her story from when she first got Tikki to then. There was no happy faces in the room.”

“You’re a superhero?” Kara was the first to burst out. “Ladybug the Parisian hero.”

“You work an entire city?” Connor asked. “I’m now even allowed to do that yet.” He shot quick glare at Clark. “Even the Teen Titans has league supervision.”

Clark raised an eyebrow, “The Justice League doesn’t usually tread on other heroes’ territory. Ladybug had always managed well.” He then gave her a look. “However, we were unaware that Ladybug was a teenager. I think its time we took a closer look at Paris.

#ml salt #ml salt fic #batman #clark kent #connor kent #smallville #Marinette deserves better #marinette dupen chang #saltinette #adrien agreste

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mama--moth · 3 years

Text

Forever and Always

Chapter 6- The Beach Episode

The next morning, Martha and alcina were standing by the Castle doors, waiting for their three daughters. Both women were wearing beach robes over their swimsuits. They had a few bags of beach stuff. They had never been to the beach before..or this far into the public. It was a scary thought, but Mother Miranda insisted that this would help productivity. They were even given beach stuff that Mother Miranda had obtain from the outside.

"Mother....its too tight!" Cassandra complained.

"Thats because its mine!!" Bela whined. The two went to swap and daniela stood by martha.

"Mum? Why are we going to the beach?" She asked.

"We dont have any duties today...so we invited your uncle heisenberg, uncle Moreau and Ms. Beneviento to the beach...i hear its really warm!" She smiled.

The two rascals soon returned wearing the right swimsuits. The family went to the basement and out through the carriage pickup. They stepped into a insulated carriage and were taken to the beach.

At the beach, Heisenberg was trying to figure out the grill, donna was putting suncreen on angie, and Moreau was already in the water. The girls jumped out and immediately sped over. Bela sat with Donna, Cassandra went to Heisenberg, and Daniela went into the water with Moreau. The two big mamas set up on the beach. People were watching the strange family, moving a bit away. Some groups like a group of younger men moved closer due to the daughters and their hot moms. The women took off the beach robes. It was like a scene out of a movie. Alcina was wearing a connected two piece, the top had bunched fabric like her signature dress that connected to swim shorts. Martha was wearing a bikini with cute heart cutouts on the top and bottom. Both women had stretch marks, but martha seemed embarrassed and alcina didnt give a shit. She kinda hid behind alcina.

"Whatre you doing?" She asked.

"Sunscreen." She said quietly.

"You need the sunscreen to do that hon.." she handed it to her and called her girls in. "Girls! To me! Now!" The three little gothlings scampered over and Daniela dried herself off. They put sunscreen on while martha was putting it on her wife.

"You know i can do this myself love?" Alcina asked.

"I...wanna do it." She said, blushing. The young men watched from afar and their jaws dropped. Martha massaged it into her wifes skin and smiled. When she was finished, she went to apply it on herself but she felt her wifes big hands on her tummy, already at it. She put it on her sides like one would sculpt pottery clay on a wheel. Alcina was very thorough, occasionally making martha let out a small squeak. Her snake tongue split and flicked out.

"Thhhank you sthweetheart" martha said, having a lisp. Her tongue reconnected and she kissed her wife. This blew the young mens' minds.

"Mhm.." alcina was a blushing mess. She really enjoyed caressing her wifes soft curves and...stuff..but she forgot she was in the public eye.

Heisenberg was watching martha with intense jealousy. He very well knew martha liked women, but he was a hopeless fool... he seemed to be daydreaming about her because he didnt notice his hand was on fire.

"Uhm...uncle?" Cassandra poked him. "Your hand.."

"Uhhuh....huh?" He snapped out of it. "Fuck." He put it out.

Moreau was sitting in the water while Daniela was finding shells and bringing them to him. Some of them had crabs in them and he liked to watch them skitter around.

Bela and Donna were essentially making jewelry for each other out of smaller shells.

Martha sat down on a towel. And alcina sat down in the sand, not really minding it. Martha seemed a bit more uneasy with the sand, but soon warmed up to the tiny grains.

"Man i wish i was that towel..." one of the men said, and the rest nodded in agreement.

Martha started to make a sandcastle. Alcina went to get water to make molds with her wife.

"Nows out chance!" The men walked over. "Hey miss...uh...whatre you doing this evening?" Wow. Graceful.

"Well..uh...i guess ill be eating dinner with my wife and fami-" she was cut off

"Well your wife has an amazing rack and you have an amazing ass so-"

"What did you say about my wife?" Martha said, eyes narrowing.

"I was just saying she has a nice set of-"

Marthas eyes dilated and she opened her mouth and her big snake tongue hung out. "I could eat you in one bite you pathhhetic little weasthhhel...." marthas tongue went back in and she looked normal again. "Oh hi sthweetie..." she smiled deviously. Alcina was standing behind them, looking down blankly at them..her claws out.

"Oh hi miss....i...uhm..." they backed up and one of them tripped and fell back onto marthas lap and looked up. She was soft...and if he wasnt so terrified, he would enjoy this moment. They were all trapped..

"You filthy manthings every speak about my wifes hindquarters like its some plaything, i will dice you up and feed you to her.." alcina threatened. Martha stood, causing the man on her lap the fall. Alcina pulled her close and gave her behind a squeeze just to tease these filthy rats... and martha lay her head on alcinas chest, her tounge flicking and grazing it. "I could slice you..."

"I could crush you.."

Now knowing how terrifying these women were, they ran off. The women giggled and watched them panicking and dashing for their cars.

Heisenberg finally got the grill to work with Cassandra's help and started to make burgers. Donna and Bela walked over to the big women and gave them each shell necklaces. With donnas threat and craftsmanship and belas creativity, the two had made very cute necklaces for the family. The big wives were all gushing over this and hugging the two...how embarrassing. They gave one to Salvatore and Dani and Heisen and Cass.

Alcina got more water and helped her wife make a sandcastle that looked like the Castle. Martha looked very happy and alcina did a lil sketch of martha and the sandcastle. Alcina loved drawing martha...and she was great at it too. There were MANY tasteful paintings of martha in a hidden room in the Atelier.

Heisenberg decided to test his luck and strutted over and 'accidentally' kicked the sandcastle over. "Whoops! Sorry doll face" he said to martha. Marthas expression went blank. Something inside of her snapped. Alcina also snapped and stood.

"Oh shit.." heisenberg started to run and alcina moved the fastest she has ever moved in quite a while. Alci chased heisen around until she ran out of breath. She returned to martha who had made a sand sculpture of heisenbergs bust and punched its head and it fell apart. Alcina hugged martha.

"Its okay hon...it was a wonderful sandcastle.." she rubbed her wifes back.

A while pasted and the burgers were done. Everyone gathered and began to eat. Martha and alcina fed each other the meat lovingly. The girls ate and everyone soon went back to their business. Martha seemed to want to go in the water but was nervous. Alcina picked her up bridal style and started walking towards the water.

"A-alcina what are you-" she was suddenly an inch above the water. Alcina was waist deep and holding her right above the water. The water waved a bit and touched marthas lower back making her try to get up more. "Its so cool...."

"Ill ease you into it." She said, droppjng marthas legs in which immediately wrapped around her. Alcina looked down at Martha...she looked nervous. Alci have her a reassuring smile and crounched so they both went down together. Martha seemed much calmer. They splashed and played together for a while. The women were now laying in the sun while their daughters splashed in the water and the other lords were relaxing. Heisen and donna were finishing up any leftovers and sal was in the water. The sun was getting low so they had to leave. They got in the insulated carriage and went home.

When they got home they unpacked and bathed, washing the outside off of them and getting ready for bed. The younglings were still full of energy and their mothers let them stay up a bit. Martha and alcina put their necklaces on display and sat in bed in their nightgowns. Alcina took her sketchbook out and started to sketch martha, who was laying there on the bed reading a book with her cute reading glasses on. She looked up and blushed. "Must you?" She chuckled.

"I have to capture this moment..." she smiled. "Althought i cant to the real thing justice...." she teased.

"Oh hush you..." she said.

"Can I paint you tomorrow?" Alcina asked. She had a sort of obsession with painting. Her wife was a wonderful subject too.

"Sure...but go to sleep.." she kissed her and laid down. Alcina stayed up a bit to draw her but eventually went to sleep.

#alcina dimitrescu #alcina x oc #martha sinclaire #resident evil

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unfried-mouth-wheat · 4 years

Text

I just feel that Dea deserves pretty dresses and that Gwyn deserves to have a good time going shopping with Dea

EDIT: FORGOT THE IMAGE ID, LIKE A DANG FOOL

[Image ID: A sketch to Dea and Gwynplaine / Grinpayne from the musical The Grinning man. Dea is on the left while Gwyn is on the right. They are holding hands. Dea is facing forward, smiling. She’s wearing a dress that has three layers, a ribbon under the bust, and lace on the neckline. Overtop of that she is wearing an open zip up hoodie. She holds her cane out in front of her.

Gwyn is looking at Dea. He is wearing a mask so it’s hard to tell, but he is in fact smiling at his beautiful girlfriend. He’s wearing a plain T-shirt and jeans. In his unoccupied hand he holds a bag that appears to be full. End ID]

#Pleasepleaseplease ignore Dea's hand hands are hard and i was determined to give her a cane #Just #ignore all anatomy cuz i don't know it it is a concept that my brain says no to #Dea #gwynplaine trelaw #Grinpayne #The Grinning Man #drew them once then went ''MODERN AU TIME''#i can't draw adults #this is a fact #deal with it #jagged and blind #I wuv they #caps tw

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cinaja · 3 years

Text

Before the Wall part 35

Masterlist

----

In the following months, there are no further incidents with Jurian, which Miryam interprets as her plan having been a success. Jurian clearly works better with a larger, entirely human army. From a military point of view, her plan worked perfectly. But from a personal viewpoint, it is rather catastrophic. Any negative development that started before Drakon left seems to increase tenfold, and all Miryam can do is to stand by helplessly.

She does what she can to make things easier for Jurian, but none of her attempts work. Jurian doesn’t want her sympathy. He doesn’t want to talk to her either. Not about his feelings, or his actions, or anything else. The slightest disagreement sends him on edge. Miryam doesn’t know why, but anytime she says something against him, he seems to consider it to be a personal betrayal. So he snaps at her. Sometimes he apologizes afterwards. Most times, they just pretend nothing happened and move on with their lives.

And that would be fine. Miryam can take arguments, even if they always leave her feeling like there are splinters stuck under her skin, cutting with each moment. She can deal with Jurian’s anger – she understands it well enough. And if Jurian’s way to deal with it is to convince himself that all will be well if just kills Amarantha, she won’t stop him. But these days, Jurian prioritizes his private vendetta over everything else. Miryam had to keep him from going against orders to chase after her four times already.

The fourth time was yesterday, and Jurian is still angry enough that he barely spoke to her these past few days. If Miryam had been a little prouder, she would have let him stew, but here she is, sitting in his tent, once again apologizing for an argument that was his fault to begin with.

“We could have won this battle,” Jurian argues. He slams a file on the table with a bang.

“We had orders.” Through lots of practice, Miryam manages to keep her voice calm. “We were meant to keep our position to prevent the Vallahan army from marching east and ambushing out forces there.”

“It was a unique chance!”

Miryam sighs. “This war is bigger than your fight with Amarantha, Jurian,” she says softly, knowing that he likely won’t like this, “Revenge won’t bring back the dead, but there are millions of humans we might still save.”

Jurian glares at her. He’s angry now, she can see it in his eyes. “You don’t understand this,” he snaps and returns to his maps.

Miryam presses her lips together. Usually, she accepts Jurian’s behaviour with a shrug, but she can’t stand when he acts like this. How dare he pretend he knows more of anger and suffering and hate than she does?

She tries to understand, she really does, but damnit, Jurian isn’t the only one to have lost people. Does he think Miryam forgot about the thousand slaves Ravenia had murdered? Does he not know that while they are stuck in their endless fight against the loyalists, more of her people get slaughtered every day? Jurian isn’t the only one who is furious, nor the only one who wants revenge. If he has a right to anger, then Miryam does, too – but unlike him, she understands that this war is bigger than personal retribution. Aren’t the millions of human who still live in shackles more important than any revenge they might gain?

“I’ll be going to the mess hall.” Jurian stands so abruptly that his knee slams against the table and his ink pot nearly falls over. “You coming?”

She doesn’t want to come. She wants him to stop acting like she is the one who doesn’t understand, and since that’s not likely to happen, she wants to be left alone. But this is a peace offer, and in their current situation, Miryam can’t risk to refuse it, no matter how angry she may be. Jurian is suffering far more than she is, so that means it falls to her to look past her own feelings.

So she makes herself smile. “Sure.”

Jurian gives her a curt nod and stalks out of the tent, Miryam following shortly after. The mess hall is full already, but soldiers move over to make space for them. She smiles and thanks them. Someone hands her a bowl of stew and two slices of dark bread.

While they eat, Miryam barely gets a chance to talk to Jurian. She is busy listening to the soldiers, asking the right questions and smiling at the right times, Jurian next to her doing the same. She only pauses when a hush falls over the assembled soldiers and all eyes turn to the entrance.

Miryam frowns at the Seraphim soldier standing in the entrance. She doesn’t recognise him, but his presence itself is unusual. Following their argument, Jurian made it clear that he doesn’t wish to see Drakon or anyone who works for him within five miles of his camp. Indeed, Jurian is glaring openly at the soldier.

“I thought I told Drakon to keep his people out of my camp.”

Miryam puts a hand on his arm. “I’ll see what this is about.”

The soldier bows to her when Miryam approaches. “My Lady,” he says, “Prince Drakon requests a meeting. Urgently.”

Miryam’s frown deepens. Ever since they split camps, she has been meeting with Drakon at least once a week, but this is the first time he had one of his soldiers ask her over. Something must have happened.

“I’m coming right away,” she says.

From where he sits between a group of soldiers, Jurian frowns over at them. Miryam smiles and mouthes it’s important at him. Jurian rolls his eyes and returns to his conversation.

Maybe a part of Miryam is glad about the excuse to leave the camp. Visiting Drakon is the closest she comes to relaxing these days – even though Drakon’s message sounds like the visit today will be far less enjoyable than usual.

On the way into Drakon’s camp, Miryam runs into Nephelle, who just landed accompanied by two other cartographers.

“Miryam.” Nephelle smiles warmly. “What are you doing here? Not that it’s not good to see you, but didn’t you visit only yesterday?”

“I’m not entirely sure why I’m here myself,” Miryam admits. “Some emergency, I assume?”

Worry wipes the smile off Nephelle’s face. “I don’t know of any emergency, but I was out of camp for most of today.” She pats a bag hanging over her shoulder. The edge of a freshly drawn sketch peeks out. “We’d best go find Drakon.”

Miryam nods and follows Nephelle through the camp. As they walk, the Seraphim keeps rubbing her right wing, wincing.

“Damned cold,” she mutters. “When the weather is like this, it always hurts worse than usual.”

Miryam would suggest warm bandages to help with any cramping, as well as a salve, but she assumes that Nephelle, who likely had trouble with her wing for her entire life, likely knows best how to deal with it. Besides, she probably has more qualified healers to help her should she need it.

Nephelle doesn’t seem to expect a reply either way. She turns to the soldier who brought Miryam. “Where’s Drakon?”

“In his tent, Lady,” he replies.

Four guards are posted at the tent’s entrance, but they let Miryam and Nephelle through without comment. Inside, Drakon and Sinna appear to be in the middle of an argument, but they both fall silent when the door opens.

“Miryam?” Drakon looks at her like she is the last person he expected to see in his tent.

“I asked her to come,” Sinna says. She is leaning against the table, her arms so tightly crossed that they look like they might snap at any moment. “You refuse to listen to me. Maybe she’ll have better luck.”

“Luck with what?” Nephelle asks. She shoves past Miryam and gives Sinna a brief kiss in greeting. Sinna smiles in return and takes her hand.

“I can’t believe this,” Drakon says to Sinna without giving her a chance to reply to Nephelle. “You ask Miryam here to…” He shakes his head.

Miryam exchanges a look with Nephelle, who shrugs and grins. “You know what?” She nudges Sinna in the side. “How about we go wait outside and let Miryam and Drakon talk, now that she’s here. While we do, maybe you can tell me what this is about.”

Sinna grumbles something, but there is no real anger behind it and she follows Nephelle out of the tent without complaining.

Drakon turns to Miryam, wincing. “Sorry about this,” he says. “Sinna…” He shrugs. “Well, you know.”

“And what is it about this time?” Miryam asks.

It must be something serious. Sinna worries about Drakon, that is true. It is equally true that her methods are usually rather blunt, sometimes harsh, and Miryam isn’t always fond of them. But usually, she doesn’t go over his head like this. She speaks her mind on everything, but in the end, she accepts that Drakon can make his own choices.

“I got a letter from Ravenia,” Drakon says in a too-quiet voice.

“What?”

Miryam stares at him. Drakon shrugs a bit too casually.

“She wants to meet,” he says. He does an admirable job of keeping his voice detached, but Miryam knows him too well to be fooled by it. “Was all formal about it, too. She even wants to use the Lake Palace. You know, the one where the Alliance and the Loyalists met at the beginning of the war.”

Miryam nods slowly. “And you argued with Sinna because she didn’t want you to go?”

But in truth, she is far more interested in Ravenia’s intentions here. Why is the Queen of the Black Land so interested in Drakon? There is no logical reason for this, at least not one Miryam has been able to figure out, and it annoys her to no end.

Drakon shakes his head. “She doesn’t really have a problem with that. If we’re meeting under the seal of neutrality, Ravenia probably won’t do anything – she won’t be able to, if we’re meeting in the Lake Palace. No, Sinna just doesn’t want me to go alone.”

“Why would you go alone?” Miryam asks.

Up to that point, Drakon’s reasoning made perfect sense. Ravenia wouldn’t violate neutrality, the political repercussion would be too severe. But if the meeting follows protocol, Drakon and Ravenia should bring one companion each. Officially, it’s meant to be a protection, but with wards ensuring neutrality, the choice of the companion is usually more a show of power. Ravenia will bring Artax for sure.

“I’d just prefer it”, Drakon says, but he doesn’t look at Miryam. He sits down on his bed and stares down at his knees. Sighing, Miryam sits down next to him.

“Why?” She asks. “It’s the protocol, if you go against it, it will look bad.”

Besides, Miryam can’t think of a reason why Drakon would want to go alone. If she had to meet with Ravenia, she would always want at least one person who is on her side with her. Without Jurian and the other Alliance members beside her, she doesn’t think she would have been able to get through the meeting with the Loyalists.

But Drakon shakes his head. “I can’t take anyone along.”

And suddenly, it makes sense. “It’s because you don’t want them to find out why Ravenia wants to marry you, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”, Drakon asks. His confusion almost seems genuine. Almost.

“Oh, you know,” Miryam says, “You’ve known ever since the Black Land. I just don’t understand why you’re so adamant to keep it secret.”

Drakon keeps staring at his knees. Miryam very badly wants to push. After all, this might well be relevant for the war effort. It might hint at a weakness of Ravenia’s, and if that is the case, she needs to know. But she has too many secrets herself to be able to push Drakon on his with clear consciousness. She can’t push, at least not without making herself into a complete hypocrite.

She reaches for Drakon’s hand. “And you’re sure you can do this?” She asks.

If Drakon is surprised that she dropped the subject, he hides it well. He just gives her a grateful smile and squeezes her hand.

“Yes,” he says, “I mean, I think so. There isn’t much Ravenia can do to me if we meet in the Lake Palace, right?”

----

In spite of his big words, Drakon desperately wishes that Miryam was with him when he arrives in the palace in the lake the Continent uses to host neutral meetings. He is more than half an hour early and the palace is still deserted when he walks up the bridge that leads over the black lake to the island in its centre.

No guards stand in front of the gates, but on each side, a huge crystal bowl is placed. Drakon takes a dagger from his belt and draws it over his palm. Blood wells up and drips into the bowl, crimson on sparkling crystal.

„I swear that while I am on these grounds, to do no harm to anyone here, not by action or intention. I swear it on my life and on my blood.“

Rays of light shoot up from the bowl, painting rainbows into the air. That seems like a good sign. Still, he wishes someone was here to give him directions on what to do.

“Please don’t fry me”, he tells the wards and slowly steps forward.

The wards don’t fry him, which is rather nice of them. The great iron doors to the palace swing open as if pulled by invisible servants and Drakon enters. Slowly, he walks through the entrance hall, looking around. Even though the palace has been abandoned for years, the spells woven through the stone kept it from decaying. The palace is still splendid, but there are still signs of its abandonment. Wines sneak through the windows, a bird built a nest in one of the chandeliers and two mice skitter off as Drakon approaches.

“Admiring the view, Your Highness?”

Drakon only barely manages to keep from flinching. He turns around slowly, with all the grace he can muster.

Ravenia stands by the doors, dressed in her customary loose white clothes. Golden jewellery glints at her arms. As Miryam predicted, she is accompanied by Artax. The head of the Witcher’s Guild is dressed in the light grey robes of his profession, a scroll and a feather stitched on his breast.

“You need to bow”, Ravenia says, “In case you were wondering what the protocol demands in this situation.”

Drakon looks at her, and he sees the dark dungeon cell she locked him into, her masked torturer and the glowing iron in his hand. He hears her voice and his ears ring with screams – his own and those of others. Before he can stop himself, he has taken a step back, away from her. His power comes to life in a whisper, making a wind rustle though the room.

He digs his fingers into the fabric of his coat. “Don’t you think we’ve left protocol behind long ago?”

Ravenia clicks her tongue. They are the same size, but somehow, she manages to look down on him. “Still, nothing speaks against some common courtesy.”

This is exactly what Drakon despises about Continental politics. You can murder thousands of innocents and no one will bat an eye. Blackmailing and torture are perfectly acceptable. But Cauldron forbid that Drakon botches up a formal address.

“I would also have appreciated some courtesy,” he says, “when I was in your court. You remember? You had me thrown in the dungeon and tortured.”

“Now, we both know that this was entirely your fault,” Ravenia says with a dismissive wave of hand. Behind her, Artax picks up a vase from one of the pretty little tables and turns it around in his hands. “And it is not what I called you here to discuss.”

Drakon is beginning to think that Sinna may have been right. He shouldn’t have come. What is he even trying to accomplish here? Why does he go to a meeting with two of the most unnerving people he ever met? Just to get ridiculed?

“Then kindly get to the point”, he says.

Artax bristles. He must have released his hold on his power, because the room seems to turn colder. No, not colder precisely. But the air suddenly feels heavy, loaded the way it does in the hours before a thunderstorm.

It only stops when Ravenia shakes her head ever so slightly. She has started examining her nails like Drakon is not even worthy of her attention. “I’m rather dissatisfied with you, you see”, she says lightly.

I’m not exactly happy with you either, Drakon thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Not when Artax is watching him the way a hawk might stare at a mouse, unblinking and predatory. His courage is spent. All he can manage is to keep from running, and to hide his trembling hands behind his back.

Ravenia sighs. “You don’t seem to realize that I have been kind with you as of yet. Continue refusing me and that will change.”

Kind. Drakon tries and fails not to think of iron burning his skin, pain that never seems to end and the helplessness of being unable to make it stop. He doesn’t trust himself to speak. Ravenia would certainly hear the fear in his voice – as he is sure she already sees it in his eyes.

“I have no need of Erithia, you see”, she says, “Your land, I could use, but your people?” She smiles slightly. “Until now, I spared them in this war, but my patience has come to an end. So the choice is up to you: You can either agree to this marriage, or watch me burn your country to the ground.”

“No,” Drakon whispers.

Artax lets out a low laugh, but he ignores him. This can’t be happening, it can’t – it simply isn’t possible. There are hundreds of thousands of people in Erithia. Ravenia can’t be threatening all of them just to get Drakon to agree to a marriage. This is the woman who murdered over a thousand people just to punish Miryam, he reminds himself. She won’t stop at his country either.

It is a terrifying realization. But worse is that Drakon knows, deep down, that he won’t be able to stop her. He can’t give her what she wants. Not just because of vows or gods, but because if Ravenia got her hands on the sword, it would not just be Erithia that burned, but the entire world.

“No,” he repeats, this time more forcefully.

Ravenia just shrugs. “Your choice. Which reminds me.” She gives him another smile, but this one is more vicious. “Do give my regards to my little runaway slave. Tell her she can continue to play at being leader of the Alliance. For whatever little time she has left.”

With that, she turns around and stalks out of the room, Artax close behind her.

Drakon remains standing rooted on his spot, unable to move. Ravenia’s words echo over and over again in his mind, leaving him unable to form a coherent thought. He shouldn’t just stand here, he needs to return to his camp and tell Sinna what happened. They have to prepare, send a message to the Alliance, do something.

But deep down, he knows that it will be no use. Ravenia wouldn’t have told him in advance if she hadn’t been sure that she’ll win no matter what he does. Warning him was just a final taunt – making sure he knows what is coming, knows that he did everything in his power to stop it, and that it still wasn’t enough.

Drakon hasn’t been to Cretea in over a year. Since he can’t get into the cave anymore, he avoided the island rather than face his failure. But now, with nowhere else to turn, he returns to the cave. What he needs is a miracle, and this is the only place where he could find one.

The mist at the cave’s entrance twirls in front of him. It forms a male figure, masked and with an iron bar in his hand.

“Let me through”, Drakon hisses. This illusion cannot scare him more than the meeting with Ravenia and he has no time for this, not when his country is being threatened.

In answer, the mist crumbles. Drakon blinks. Nothing is ever that easy. Hesitantly, he starts forward, but before he can step through the opening, the mist rises again. But this time, it takes another form.

For a heartbeat, Drakon simply stares at his father, as confused as he was when he went into the cave after his coronation. Then, he also saw his father, but after what happened in the Black Land, that changed. Until now, it appears. Not real, he reminds himself. This isn’t real, it’s just an illusion. Unfortunately, that doesn’t change a thing as his father starts to speak.

“What kind of trouble did you get into now?” He asks in a tone that isn’t angry, but rather disappointed.

“You aren’t real,” Drakon says, but his voice shakes.

“That’s true,” his father agrees, “But as long as you continue to run my country to the ground, I’ll keep appearing.”

Drakon nervously tugs on the hem of his coat. He got past his father and his taunts before, he should be able to do it again. But with Ravenia’s threat still ringing in his ears, he can’t summon the confidence he would need to get past the spell. How can he confidently tell his father that he is doing well as a ruler when his country might get invaded?

“I’m trying,” he says instead, “Just let me through, I’ll find a way to fix this. Please.”

The mists don’t move. Drakon’s father shakes his head. “Trying isn’t enough. You swore you would never let our people down, but you did and now, thousands might die.” He shakes his head sadly. “I always knew this would happen if you were put in charge. There was a reason, after all, why I decided to sell you to Ravenia.”

Drakon spins around and stalks back through the tunnel. He made it about halfway to the door when a raspy laugh sounds from behind him. Drakon slowly turns around to the ghost who materialized behind him. His face is shrouded in shadows as always, and his body seems to appear and disappear sporadically.

“What do you want?”, Drakon asks. His voice sounds shrill in his own ears.

The witcher shrugs. The movement looks off without an actual body. “Maybe I just enjoy watching you.” He laughs again. The sound sends shivers down Drakon’s spine. “You’re rather entertaining. Can’t even get past a simple spell. I’d like to see how you even manage to run your country – can’t work very well, right?”

Drakon’s eyes begin to burn. He blinks rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. He balls his hands to fists and turns his head away. “Shut up.”

“Now, that was witty.” The witcher moves a bit closer, not taking a step but gliding over the ground. “Hit a spot there, didn’t I? Come on, surely you didn’t manage to reduce your country to rubble in the few years you’ve been in charge in Erithia.”

“You want to know what happened?”, Drakon asks. He is shaking now. Ravenia’s threats mix with his father’s taunts and he just can’t take it. “How about five years of war? How about the fact that this entire Continent is on fire and more people die each day, or that even after five years, we are still at a stalemate and if we lose, millions of humans will end up enslaved?” Drakon’s voice echoes on the tunnel walls, gets thrown back and forth and distorted more and more.

The witcher’s shape flickers once, as if in surprise.

“And Erithia,” Drakon continues, “well, Erithia is about to be invaded because Queen Ravenia of the Black Land somehow found out about this stupid sword and now wants to get her hands on it to set herself up as Queen of the Continent or something like this.” Drakon feels tears running over his face and wipes them away. “So from the way it looks, Erithia is indeed about to get reduced to rubble and I’m too stupidly incompetent to -”His voice breaks. “Shit”, he whispers, “shit.”

He lets himself slide to the ground, wings tugged in tightly, and buries his face in his arms. It’s all hopeless. Ravenia is going to burn his country to the ground and he won’t be able to do a thing against it. After all, he has never once been able to do anything against Ravenia.

“Hey”, a light voice says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – “

Drakon is surprised enough that he looks up. The witcher is kneeling before him – only his looks are completely changed. Gone are the shadows, instead, a sturdy young man with ruddy brown hair and a friendly face kneels in front of him.

Drakon yelps and jumps the his feet. “What the –“

The man vanishes and reappears five feet further away. “Sorry”, he repeats. “I thought you might find this more comforting. But I could change it to something else.” Again, that awkward shrug. “At least you stopped crying, so I guess that’s something.”

Drakon lets himself slide back to the ground. He tries and fails to process that the local evil ghost is actually a nice-looking man who seems only a few years older than him. Upon closer inspection, he looks more human than Fae.

“I didn’t mean to upset you”, the ghost says. “I mean, I kind of did, but I didn’t mean to actually make you cry. None of the others ever reacted. At all.”

Drakon doesn’t manage a reply. All he can do is stare.

“I mean, can you blame me?” The ghost asks. “I don’t exactly get much company down here. Just you Erithian royals, and you are generally not very talkative.” Now, he even gives him a small smile. “But maybe you want to talk? About that war of yours, and this Ravenia.”

Wonderful. Apparently, Drakon is now pathetic enough to make the evil ghost trapped in this cave for his deeds feel bad for him. That’s a new low.

He bites his lip. Telling the local evil witcher the truth about what happened seems like a bad idea. But not that the he mentions it, Drakon realizes that he does want to talk. Badly. And the unfortunate truth is that there is no one outside of this cave who can ever know the entire truth.

“Alright,” Drakon says, wondering if he’ll yet regret this.

Haltingly, he begins to talk. He starts at the very beginning, with his engagement to Ravenia. It occurs to him that he never told this story to anyone before, at least not entirely. At first, he stumbles over the words, but after the first few sentences, he finds that he can’t get himself to stop talking anymore.

The ghost watches in silence, without interrupting him once. He doesn’t blink either. The only reaction he shows is that his form flickers from now to then. Even long after Drakon finished talking, he remains silent, staring at Drakon. He stares back, drumming a quick rhythm on his leg.

“So what did you come here to do?” The ghost finally asks. “To beg for help from a goddess who never once answered your prayers?”

Wonderful. Drakon should have known better than to hope for any help from him.

“Let me guess,” he says, “You want me to free me so you can help me defeat my enemies.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst idea,” the ghost shoots back, “If you’re worried about what using the sword might do to you, I’m pretty sure you could get away with it if you use it just this once.”

Drakon is far more worried about possibly setting a dangerous criminal loose on the world. There’s no way for him to know what the ghost would to if he were to release him. Instead of helping, he might turn on Drakon.

“Sorry,” unsure if he means that, “but I can’t.”

“So you’d rather let this… this person get her hands on my sword?”

“It isn’t your sword. You stole it from Daín.”

Drakon draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. He doesn’t understand this. Why does this even interest this witcher so much? Is he just trying to manipulate him, or does he actually care about what Ravenia getting her hands on the sword might mean?

“True.” In the blink of an eye, the ghost disappears and reappears in a sitting position opposite Drakon. “But if you count on the Mother for help, then you’re in for a disappointment.”

“And whose fault is that?” Drakon asks, “You killed her consort, Daín, to steal his sword. You caused the Mother to disappear.”

To his surprise, the ghost starts to laugh like Drakon has just told him the funniest joke. “You never knew Étain. Even if she was still around, she wouldn’t give a shit about any of this. She cared about exactly three things: Being worshiped, herself and Daín. Certainly never about humans. Or Fae, for that matter.”

Drakon blinks at him. “Étain,m” he repeats. “You mean the Mother. You knew her?”

“Of course. Her and Daín both.” He gives Drakon a smile filled with too-sharp teeth. “And let me tell you something: If you are truly fighting against slavery, you would have been sorely disappointed by your precious goddess.”

Why did he even start this conversation? He should have known that debating this war with the ghost of an evil witcher could only end badly. Yet here he is, stupid enough to try it anyways. He can’t even get himself to brush off the words like he knows he should.

“The mother didn’t favour slavery,” Drakon says softly. He leans his head against the wall and looks up at the glowing plants that grow all over the tunnel. “Why would she? She created this world, full of different species as it is. Cleary she valued diversity.”

“But what if she didn’t?” The ghost presses. “What would you do then?”

“Change religions,” Drakon replies without thinking.

With a start, he realizes the sheer ridiculousness of this situation. His country is about to be invaded, and here he is, debating religion with the witcher who murdered his goddess’s consort. He wants to laugh. He wants to cry.

Again, the ghost laughs, but this time, it sounds almost appreciative. “Good answer,” he says, “Watch out, little prince. I might start to like you yet.” His form flickers and he reappears in a standing position. “You don’t want to believe me about the Mother,” he says, looking down on Drakon. “That’s you choice to make. But before you count on any divine assistance, you might still want to consider the possibility that I am right.”

----

A/N: I'd really like to thank @croissantcitysucks here, because we came up with everything regarding the sword, the Mother, Daín and the ghost in the cave together and that entire arc would have been far less interesting without her and the discussions we’ve had❤

Tags: @sjm-things

#I feel kind of bad about how things with Jurian are going #but I hope it's understandable that he's only acting that way because he is suffering #and I hope the other characters are understandable too #before the wall #miryam #jurian #drakon

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verai-marcel · 4 years

Text

The Pure Taste of You (RDR2 Fanfic, Incubus!Arthur x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: After the greatest night of your life, you wake up to a promise. As time goes on, do you still believe in that promise? How far will you go to find out?

Author’s Notes: The Sweet Taste of You won the poll for getting a sequel fic; this starts right after you wake up.

Tags: spoilers for chapter 4 onwards, incubus Arthur, high honor Arthur, emotions or some shit, angst, smut, HEA

AO3 link is here, sweetheart.

Word Count: 4466

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

You awoke to someone stroking your head, a soft song wafting through the air. There were no words, but it sounded like a sweet melody, one that felt like love and devotion. Blinking your eyes as you got accustomed to the morning sun, you turned your head towards the voice.

Arthur was sitting on the edge of your bed, fully clothed, as if he were waiting for you to wake up.

“G’mornin’, darlin’.”

“Morning, Arthur,” you said, your voice cracking a little. “Are you leaving?”

He nodded, looking solemn. This got your attention, so you sat up in bed and gave him your full attention.

“I want you to know that I have e’rey intention of making you mine. I’ll be doin’ some jobs that take me farther away, but I will come back to you.” He leaned in to kiss your forehead, cupping your cheek in his big, warm hand. “But if two months pass and I ain’t back, well…”

You grabbed his hand. “I don’t want to think about that. I’ll wait for you.”

He smiled. “Thank you,” he said reverently as he brought your hand to his lips, your promise to wait meaning the world to him.

***

It had been two months. At first, you got a letter every other day, with him telling you how he was doing, and usually the letter was accompanied by a sketch from him of a building or an animal, something to remind you of him. Then a few days would pass before you got another letter. Then a week.

Then nothing. A whole month passed with no contact. You hoped that he was too busy to get to a post office. But deep down, you had a sinking feeling, a dread so heavy it weighed down your heart.

The dreams didn’t help. Jungles and gunfire, running, always running, and a cough that racked you through to your very soul. Then a mountain cave, and a lot of anger and helplessness. But within all those swirling emotions was a strong feeling of purpose, like you were trying to reach for something, and you couldn’t give up that hope because it was the only thing keeping you going.

You weren’t one for believing in the supernatural, but your dreams were so vivid and yet very much not yours that you wondered if you were seeing things from Arthur’s side.

That only made you worry more.

***

His chest had never felt heavier. It hurt to move, to breathe, to even exist.

Yet despite his best efforts, he continued to do so, driven by just one thing.

He spoke a name in barely a whisper, so faint that even he thought he imagined it. The name carried on the wind, and he hoped and prayed like a fool that he would be forgiven.

***

You woke up in a cold sweat. You swear you heard Arthur whisper your name, and bolted upright in your bed, looking around, hoping it was him. Instead, your room was silent, as if to mock you for thinking he’d come back.

Five days ago, your head started to hurt. You thought maybe it was all the crying that had caused the pain. But you started to notice that whenever you walked in a certain direction, the pain ebbed, and whenever you walked in any other direction, the pain returned. The exact direction changed every day, but always, always, when you were going northwards, you felt better, as if you were being drawn somewhere.

Today, the pain was particularly bad. As the sun began to set, you looked out the window, and your head cleared for just a moment, long enough to hear something.

You heard your name.

“I’m going crazy,” you muttered to yourself, turning back to your work. Then the ache in your head spiked. You maneuvered yourself around quickly to face north, and you breathed slowly as the pounding lessened.

This was insane.

A thought came into your head and it evolved into an idea, then a fully-fledged plan. You were about to do something out of the ordinary, but you were sick of this headache, sick of worrying about Arthur, and sick of not doing anything about it.

You wanted to know.

After you finished the last of the linens, you ran home, pulled all of your saved cash out from under your mattress, and put together a day bag: some dried meat, a bread roll, a canteen of water, a scarf, and a small pistol that Arthur had left you for your protection. Leaving your place and practically running to the livery stable, you hoped that they would still be open this late.

You arrived just before they closed and breathed a sigh of relief.

***

After renting a horse, using your savings as collateral, you made your way north, following the road until your headache increased. Then you just went whichever way you needed to go, turning this way and that, off the paths, across streams, up and down the rocky hillsides. You were grateful that you grew up on a farm and knew how to handle a horse. Part of you missed that life, but if you hadn’t run away when you had, you’d be dead and you would have never met Arthur.

You shudder at what could have been.

The night passed by as you spent hours traveling in a strange direction that led you to a tall mountain in Ambarino just as the sun was rising. Your headache was almost gone, but your heart was racing. Why were you being led here? You looked around; halfway up the hillside, you could see people leaving on a path below, some carrying out dead men, as if some kind of battle had been waged here. You urged your horse away, not wanting to be stopped. You were so close to where you needed to be. You could feel it deep in your heart.

Making your way up the steep hillside, the soft light of dawn illuminating your path, you saw that the path was becoming too narrow for a horse, and hitched her on a tree nearby before starting the climb. Over rocks and boulders, you clambered and scrambled until you reached a flat area where your headache disappeared.

And your heart stopped.

“Arthur!”

***

His eyes could not open. He wanted to see, even if he knew he’d be disappointed. He knew she wasn’t here; there was no way for her to have found him, way up here in the mountains. He imagined her voice was tinged with worry as she yelled his name. Were her cries getting louder? Maybe he was in hell, to be forever tortured by the voice of his beloved, unable to see her, touch her, taste her.

He would deserve it, for all that he had done.

Arthur’s chest rattled, desperately trying to breathe. He had gone for too long without feeding. The doctor had told him he had tuberculosis, but he knew what this was. Wasting away from the inside without the love he needed to survive, but he had no time to go to her.

No time.

There was no time.

He felt a hand on his. Felt a drop of water on his dry lips, salty and sad. Still, he could not open his eyes.

Then a kiss.

As if pure sunlight was being poured into his mouth, he gasped.

And he drank.

And drank.

***

At first his lips were cold as you kissed him, finding your darling Arthur on this cold mountainside, his face pale, his features sunken. You poured all of your love into this one final kiss, wanting him to know how much you cared, even if you had only known him for a short time.

So when his lips moved against yours and became warm under your touch, you gave him everything. You hoped for a miracle as you kissed him more and more.

You grew tired. Your arms wrapped around his body, as if to protect him from the world while you kept kissing him.

You became cold, so you snuggled closer to him as his body grew warmer.

You opened your eyes at the same time he opened his.

He rasped your name and smiled.

You smiled back.

And then you saw no more.

***

You awoke in a bed. Looking around, you figured you were in some kind of cabin. The birds chirping outside, the sound of the wind through the trees, and the trickle of water nearby was so idyllic that you almost forgot how you got here.

In fact, you had no recollection of how you got here.

Stumbling out of bed, you noted you were wearing a sheer sleeping gown, soft and comfortable. You felt like a sleeping princess as you carefully made your way towards the front door, the wood floor cold against your bare feet. You felt weak, every breath you took seemed to rattle in your rib cage, and your stomach growled with hunger. Seeing an apple on the table next to the small kitchen, you grabbed it and devoured it as you finally stepped outside.

The view that greeted you was like out of a dream. A peaceful lake, the mountains, the forest, all framed by a sky so blue that it looked like a painting.

And on the shore of that lake stood Arthur, fishing peacefully, a look of concentration on his face. You watched as he caught a fish, pulling it out of the water and considering it for a few moments before mumbling, “Sorry, little guy. I’ll let you grow a bit more.”

He unhooked the little fish and tossed it back into the lake. Watching it swim away, he put new bait on his fishing hook and cast his line out, wedging the rod between some rocks before turning around.

He stopped short when he saw you.

Arthur called your name, almost in disbelief.

Then he ran to you.

“You shouldn’t be out here, you’ll catch a cold,” he fussed, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders to ward off the chilly mountain air.

“Arthur, what happened?”

He stepped away from you, one hand gripping his other arm, shame radiating from his posture.

You stepped closer. “Arthur. Tell me.”

He sighed and let go of his arm. “I… I was dyin’.”

You gasped but stayed quiet to let him continue.

“You saved me, darlin’. Fer that, you have gratitude. Forever.” He took your hands in his. “But I have to tell you somethin’. It’ll sound insane. But I tell you, it’s true.”

He took a deep breath.

“I’m a demon.”

You cocked your head at him. “Arthur, you’re not-”

“Let me explain.” He walked over to a large log, one that spanned at least twenty feet. He squatted down and lifted it up with ease.

Even you had to admit that no regular human could lift a log of that size with that little effort.

Putting the log back down, he walked back to you. “To be clear, I’m only half.”

“Half?”

“My mother. She was a succubus. Fell in love with my father, a human. Though he was more a demon than she was. She was sweet, kind, gentle. He… weren’t.”

You were a little familiar with the term. From what you could recall, a succubus was a sex demon. Which meant he was half a sex demon.

“How did I save you?”

“You kissed me. Filled me with yer love.” He held your hands again, bringing them to his lips and closing his eyes. “But I took too much, drained you. I couldn’t control myself, I was so weak.”

He opened his eyes and looked so sad, so guilty. “I shouldn’t keep you to myself. If I lose control again, I…” Looking away from you, he trailed off, taking a shuddering breath, unable to even consider the consequences. Then he suddenly turned back to you, his eyes hardened with determination. “You can’t stay with me. I’m just a danger to you.”

You were shocked. But you could tell from the guilt he wore on his shoulder that he was blaming himself for extraordinary circumstances. “I wasn’t in danger the first time you were with me, was I?”

“No, no, I was in control then.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I need to feed off yer, uh, attraction to me. That, uh, energy, is what keeps me alive.” He gestured with his hands. “If I’m too hungry, I might feed too much, and that’s what happened to ya.”

You pondered his words for a few moments before asking him one simple question.

"If I leave you, will you die?"

He was silent.

"Arthur."

He would not speak; he only looked away from your piercing glare. That was enough of an answer on its own.

"I won't leave you," you said firmly.

"But—"

"No buts," you interrupted, walking towards him. "I can't get you out of my system, and clearly neither can you."

He retreated away, stepping backwards into the lake, his boots crunching in the river gravel with every step.

Still you followed him, into the ice cold water.

"Darlin', don't come in here, you'll get cold," he said in a panic, immediately rushing towards you, taking you by your arms and pushing you out of the water.

You dug your feet in and grabbed his arms, pushing back at him. "I'll go where I want." Looking up at him determinedly, you lowered your voice. "I want to be with you, Arthur."

A moment passed, and then another and another as Arthur stared at you, emotions flying through his eyes like lightning across the sky. He finally leaned in, wrapped his arms around you, picked you up, and carried you back to the shoreline. He refused to put you down when you began to wriggle out of his grip. "You absolutely sure, sweetheart?"

"As sure as the sun is in the sky, my dear."

He smiled at you, his eyes shimmering with emotion.

***

A week passed in rustic bliss as you recuperated. Arthur hunted and sold pelts in town to make money while you rested or cleaned around the house or fished while he was away. He was never too far, but whenever he was gone, he always asked that you stay inside in case of predators. You usually did as he asked, but as you regained your energy and got tired of being cooped up in the cabin, you would sit outside on the dock and fish during the early mornings.

Arthur knew you had not listened to his request when you had grilled fish for dinner, but he didn’t say anything. He only gave you a disapproving look, while you always just smiled innocently at him.

As the second week in the cabin began, you noticed that Arthur was starting to look a bit pale. After he returned from a day hunting, you walked up to him and put his face between your hands.

"Arthur, do you need… Me?"

He looked at you and then looked away, conflicted. "I'll be fine."

You shook your head at him and hugged him tight. After a few moments, he wrapped his arms around you. Looking up at him, you cupped his cheek.

"Kiss me," you whispered.

He swallowed, leaned down, and gave you the most chaste kiss.

"More, Arthur!" you whined.

"Darlin'—"

"Don't treat me like I'm made of glass, Mr. Morgan. I've been resting for an entire week. I feel great.” You poked his chest with a finger. “You need to trust me.”

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “I just… I can’t get that image out of my mind, you lying on the ground, pale as death.”

“Then let’s get a different image in your head, shall we?”

You pushed him onto the bed and straddled him.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Hush. Just enjoy.” You removed your clothes slowly, gyrating your hips in a slow circle as he watched you, his eyes darkening with every bit of flesh revealed. He couldn’t stop his body from reacting to your almost nude form, gripping the edge of the bed and breathing heavily.

You got up just long enough to shimmy out of your pants and drawers before you lay on top of him and kissed his nose. “Will you make love to me, Arthur?”

“Of course, my heart,” he said, his voice straining under the weight of his emotions. He wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close, pressing his lips against your skin and simply breathing in your scent.

You winked at him as you pushed yourself up and began to unbutton his shirt. He watched with a lazy smile as you reached the last button and tugged it off his shoulders, revealing his toned biceps. He sat up and removed the rest of his shirt as you started working on the buttons of his jeans.

Arthur lay back down and lifted his hips as you pulled off his pants and his short drawers, wanting to see him gloriously naked. He was beautiful with his scars marking his skin, telling a story of a rough life, smoothed over with time. The trail of hair from his chest went down his stomach and lower, leading you to his thick shaft.

You gently brushed your fingers along the length of him, looking up to see his reaction. Watching the heat in his eyes ignite as you stroked him, you gave him a cheeky grin before you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock.

"Oh lord, darlin'," Arthur moaned, his head lolling back as he tried to keep his hips from jerking upwards into the warmth of your mouth. “Where'd you learn that?"

You just winked. You'd tell him later. Right now, you just licked him slowly from base to tip before engulfing him in your mouth.

Arthur's strangled cry of pleasure made you hum happily as you languidly lapped at his sensitive skin. His hands rested on your head, petting you lovingly as you explored him, wrapping your lips around him and sucking hard.

A litany of creative curses escaped him as he grabbed your head and thrust up into your mouth, mindlessly giving into his lust. When you pushed down on his thighs and made a surprised squeal, he quickly let you go and breathed heavily.

"Git up here," he growled, sitting up and pulling you into his lap. "I need to be inside of you."

Straddling his thighs, you slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, nearly crying with relief as you felt that carnal connection, rejoicing in that feeling of being filled up by him.

You moaned his name as he grabbed your hips and started to move you up and down, urging you faster and faster. You rode him hard as he wantonly chased down his pleasure. Feeling yourself flying towards the brink of an ecstatic high, you held Arthur’s face and pulled him towards you.

“Dar—”

You didn’t let him finish; you kissed him almost violently, pouring your love into him, forcing him to take all of your pent-up lust. He swallowed and moaned, kissing you back, and you felt a returning energy that pushed you over the edge and made you fly. The kiss broke as the two of you went over the edge of ecstasy together, arms holding each other tight as your hips spasmed, wringing out every last drop of his essence as he pumped upwards into you, gasping your name and pressing his forehead against yours.

After his last thrust, Arthur held you tightly against him, catching his breath while you caught yours.

“That… that was amazin’,” he finally said to you.

“Will it always be like that?” you asked.

“I hope so,” he said, a wry smile on his face.

You pulled back to look at his face. The color had returned to his cheeks and his eyes seemed much less sunken. You stroked his cheek gently. “You look better.”

“How’re you feeling’?” he said, his brows furrowing in concern.

“Never better.” You rolled your hips and smiled when he moaned, his cock hardening inside of you once more. “I could go for a round two.”

“You cheeky girl,” Arthur said while laughing, rolling over to make love to you until the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

***

“So where’d you learn that trick?”

“What trick?” you asked around a mouthful of biscuit.

“You know. The one where you put yer lips around my…” He gestured towards his lower region.

You laughed. “You’re not going to like the answer.”

“Jus’ tell me.”

You got up from the kitchen table, taking your plate back to the sink so you wouldn’t have to face him. “I, um, read your mother’s journal.”

You heard a fork drop onto a plate. Turning around, you saw Arthur looking at you, aghast.

“I’m sorry!”

“No, that ain’t… you don’t hafta apologize,” he quickly corrected. “I’ve read her journal. I never saw nothin’ like that.”

Your eyebrow raised. As you watched, Arthur went to grab the journal and returned to stand next to you, flipping through the pages.

“There, there it is,” you said, pointing at one of the pages towards the end of the journal.

“Huh? These’re blank, darlin’,” Arthur said.

You blinked. You looked up at him, confused. Then you looked down at the page he had flipped to, and sure as day, you saw a flowing script with detailed descriptions of sexual acts that drove men wild. It even had illustrations.

“Arthur… where do the blank pages start for you?”

He flipped to a page about ten sheets away from the end. “Right here.”

Taking the journal in your hands, you started to read the text. You admit, you had started at the end and stopped when you saw the lewd artwork and never read before that part.

“It says, ‘To the one who captures the heart of an incubus.’” You looked up at Arthur, who looked bewildered, his jaw hanging slightly open. You continued. “‘Only you can read these last pages, because it holds things that I’m sure a son does not want to hear from his mother. But I want you to know my boy is special; even though he is half a creature of the night, his soul is all human. Please cherish him, care for him, and know that if he gives you his heart, he will give it all to you, and not an ounce less.’”

You looked up to the ceiling, trying not to cry, but glancing at Arthur, whose eyes were glistening with unshed tears, you let a few drops fall.

“That all it says?” he asked quietly.

“Um, well… the rest says, ‘On the following pages, I’ve shared my knowledge of carnal acts that are sure to enrich your life. But please don’t tell my son, as I am sure he will burst from shame if he knew his dear mother has intimate knowledge of such things.’” You glanced back at Arthur. “Whoops. I guess I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

Arthur choked back a laugh. “Ma, you never cease to amaze me,” he rasped as he looked up at the ceiling.

You looked at Arthur, who was halfway in tears, halfway laughing. “So… should I not use her techniques?”

He shuddered. “Please don’t call them ‘her’ techniques,” he grumbled

You laughed wholeheartedly. “Of course. They’re my techniques now, after all.”

He smiled at you; you smiled back. As he pulled you into his arms, you quietly thanked his mother for bringing Arthur into the world.

***

The spring months had passed in a blink of an eye as you and Arthur lived together in this small cabin, unbothered by anyone for the most part. The occasional traveler or merchant would go by on the road in the distance, but most days, the only person you saw was Arthur.

You didn’t mind one bit.

You still had the horse you rented; at this point, you figured the horse was a purchase and your savings long gone. Arthur had taken to him quite well, and he would take Ol’Trigger out to go hunting. He wasn’t looking too healthy when you rented him, but somehow, with all this clean mountain air and fresh grass, he was growing strong.

The sun was beginning to set on this first day of summer when you heard Arthur and Ol'Trigger coming back from a day of selling furs to various traders.

"There you are, my sweet," Arthur said with a big grin on his face as you approached. He held out his arms.

"You're probably smelly from being out all day," you groused, but you still stepped into the circle of his arms and held him tightly.

He leaned down and gave you a chaste peck on the lips. "Would you take a walk with me, darlin'?"

"Sure," you answered easily. The two of you would often walk up the nearby mountain trail to an overlook where you could see a fantastic view of the whole lake. You knew you would always love this sight; it was so tranquil and beautiful, and every day the sun hit the water just a little bit differently.

The two of you walked in silence, hand in hand, as the trees rustled and the birds chirped their goodbyes to the daylight. As you reached the overlook, you gasped. The solstice sunset dyed the world a rich red and gold, reflected on the lake like a mirror to the sky.

"I could never get tired of this view," you said in awe.

"Me either," Arthur said in a hushed tone.

You turned to find him gazing at you, a small smile on his face. You smiled shyly back at him. "Oh, you're too nice to me."

Without saying a word, he let go of your hand for a moment and got down on one knee.

"Ar-Arthur?"

Pulling out a ring that sparkled in the light, he looked up at you, his eyes showing a bit of vulnerability. He said your name so seriously that you stood up just a little straighter.

"I love you. More than anythin’. It would mean the world to me if you did me the greatest honor." He took a deep breath. "Will ya marry me?"

Tears had already started flowing the moment he pulled out the ring. But his earnest speech just filled your heart with joy.

"Of course I'll marry you!" you exclaimed.

He grinned and stood up, took your hand, and slipped the gorgeous ring onto your finger. Then he leaned down and kissed you, sweet and unafraid, full of love.

As the sun set over the horizon, you thought that today, of all days, was the most perfect one of all.

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

End Notes: I was deep in my feels, fam. So a bit of lore: Arthur is the only one who can't read the text in the back of the book; it was written with enchanted ink made with a drop of Arthur's blood when he was a child. Also the bonding that Arthur & Reader have is because Arthur claimed her last time they fucked. I know this sequel was more plot than porn, but I still hope you enjoyed it!

#rdr2 fanfic #arthur x reader #arthur morgan #arthur x fem!reader #incubus arthur #fanfic #writing #nsft #lemon fanfic

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blacknovelist · 3 years

Text

Half-Empty, Half-Full (FE3H Fic)

hey hi what’s up lads, so I like, 100% forgot I could post my piece for the @threehouseszine Beneath The Banner (also available on Twitter under the same name) and as such I’m like ten years late. :) But the zine has been sent out, and I finally noticed like the fool I am that others have posted their pieces, and thusly, I too will post mine! Because I can. And I want to.

My focus was on the Golden Deer post-skip, specifically in some nebulous point during the war. Being part of this zine was really, really cool -- I can’t wait for all the books and merch to arrive with everyone!

(will reblog with links because we all know tumblr likes to break things.)

A beat of something nice, amid the fragments of harder times.

In the spaces between war — between scattered supply checks and ration distribution, bandit skirmishes and long watch nights — Hilda finds the time she needs to breathe.

It came easier, back in the academy. She could simply step back and let the world move around her, steadfast in her belief that it would still be standing when she returned. Nowadays she steals the air in her lungs from glances at the sky and quick delivery walks, from the chip of chisel and steel against stone and wood, from the sensation of gems and petals inlaid on clothes, chains and hooks when she can afford to lay down her axe. Infrequency makes the beats between battles all the more precious.

With the professor around she can afford more pauses still, but Hilda watches herself. She knows, all too well, just how young she is. Claude lies at one year her junior and the professor, with their five year hiatus, sits at two. It wouldn't do for her stubborn leaders to find someone they can’t believe in among their ranks, now.

She’s on the run for errands when she spots a hint of not-plant green and wood not far off the beaten path, and she wastes no time following that tried and true Deer instinct to take a peek. Ignatz is there, as expected, easel propped on a patch of flat land, what she can see of the canvas a tasteful blend of browns and golds. He leans in, fingers dabbed in the same off-white his paintbrush dusts onto his scene.

Now, Hilda doesn’t paint, but she does understand the stress and struggle of art, different forms aside. Which is why she waits until he leans back before she steps forward and taps his shoulder.

“Hey, Ignatz.”

Ignatz yelps, almost drops his brush and earns himself a stripe on his palm for his troubles. “Hilda! Hi. I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you there.”

“Don't worry about it.” She clasps her hands together. “What’re you painting?"

"I wanted to capture the cathedral, while it's still under repair." He gestures to his piece — the white forms the glint of sunlight off patches of rubble, steel and glass, along with the robes of monks and priests as they shift and sweep aside what debris they can. "A lot of artists depict places in their prime, or utterly destroyed, or after they've been restored to their former glory. I thought it would be nice to show the in-between for once. People from every background imaginable, coming together to rebuild for the future. A little different from what I usually paint, but sometimes a little variety is nice."

"And you're doing it all the way out here because…"

"I didn't want to be in anyone's way, and I come out here a lot. I've got plenty of references with me, so it's not a problem." Ignatz shifts and Hilda catches sight of a stack of sketchbooks, some more worn than others, half-spilled from a bag. The top one gets plucked up and held between them as he flips from page to page. Statue busts, the altar and rows of pews among pillars rendered in charcoal and sleek pigment lines. Sometimes, she catches glimpses of green and blue and other colors, or shapes that don't quite match the church art he focuses on, but Ignatz flips too fast for her to see.

Or, almost. "Go back two pages," Hilda says. A grin tugs at her lips. "Was that Claude?"

"Oh! Uh, yes." Though Ignatz learned to leave embarrassment and nerves about his art behind, something in his chest still squirms, just a bit. An image of their leader in the library, face cast in candlelight and more at peace than he ever is during daylight, stares up at the duo. "It's easier when I’m with a person, but sometimes I'll do studies on my own. Practice makes perfect, after all."

"It's beautiful." She reaches out, pauses. "May I…?"

He passes it over. "Here. You can look at the others, too. I don't mind." Then he turns back to the easel and reaches for his paint. "Anyway, I thought this was as good a spot to work as any. There's a field down that way you can see best in the spring, and I like the view of everything from here."

"You'll have to show me when it's in season."

Her eyes flicker over thick paper. Statues. Flowers, trees, forest paths. Distance shots of people, strolling towards town. Swirls of filigree and patterns fill whole pages in patches, tiny stylized animals and the occasional dragon tucked into the empty space. Silhouettes crowd around the pews, and even if she recognizes clothes, many of these smaller figures are faceless.

But she finds a loose sketch, hair popping blond against black ink, of Raphael and a young girl with the same square jaw and broad shoulders. Claude himself appears once more, this time in wireframe form, ordinary steel bow drawn all the way back and arrow pointed to the left. When she plucks one of his other books from the stack it follows a similar trend — renderings of the cathedral, inside and out, stuck in among horse-drawn carriages and sunlit grass patches and clothes and people, both familiar and unfamiliar, faceless and defined. A few drawings are from the past few months: Sylvain in his armor, Baltie with his open-chested shirt, Leonie and her long hair, the monastery scaffolding.

Most of his drawings are from the academy days.

Lindhardt, leaned against a tree, the shadow of leaves mottled on his lap. Herself and Marianne seated in the dining hall. Lysithea, with a book in one hand and a swirl of magic in the other. Claude and Lorenz mid-argument. Felix as he trains blade blurred and bent as he lunges. Dimitri and Dedue bent over a table in their classroom. Edelgard as she strides across the courtyard, Hubert one step behind. Busts of the professor and Jeralt, side by side, the faintest quirk in their lips.

Hilda looks up and pauses. Ignatz presses so close to the canvas he’s peering over the wire frames of his glasses rather than through, brow furrowed and jaw set. She shuts an eye as the sun slips out from behind what’s left of Garreg Mach’s spires. Greyscale flowers peer up from the pages, a reflection of the few asters scattered around their feet. Mountain monastery air goes down sweet and full in her lungs.

"I gotta say, Ignatz,” she says, the edge of her thumb smudged in stray charcoal. "These are amazing. How long have you been doing art?"

"Since I was little." He leans back, considers his work, then leans in again. "My parents are merchants, so we delivered paintings and statuettes to a lot of noble houses in the Alliance. One day I found some extra supplies lying around so I just… picked it up and gave it a shot."

"Well, I'm glad you did. Even these plain sketches look much nicer than anything I could do, and don't even get me started on painting. No offense, Ignatz, but no thank you. Definitely not my wheelhouse."

Ignatz pauses. "None taken, and thank you. You draw?”

"Not much." She waves a hand. "My talents lie in accessories. I like to plan before I start working, figure out how it should come together and doodle in the margins a little sometimes, that's all."

"You're always wearing beautiful jewelry, but I didn't realize you made them yourself." A smile breaks out across his face. "That's amazing, Hilda!"

A blush rolls across her cheeks and she can't stop the tug of her lips into a matching grin. "Oh, stop it. Really?"

"Of course! The colors and shapes you use match your hair, complexion, and the clothes you tend to wear quite beautifully." His brush plunges into a cup of water by the foot of his easel and faces her fully. "When did you start?"

"A long time ago, now – I'm not even sure exactly how long, anymore. I used to make flower crowns and necklaces with my big brother, and it just spun out from there." The book lies closed in her hands now. Her finger runs up and down the paper, feels the grooves between unaligned pages. "I could make them as pretty or ugly as I wanted, so long as I was happy in the end. No one ever expected anything more or less. Not that I ever made something ugly, mind you."

Ignatz hummed. "Have you ever considered selling them?"

"Not really.” Hilda tilts her head. “Do you think it'd be a good idea?"

"Absolutely! You should consider it, once the war is over. I bet people would love them."

She taps her chin. “I’ll give it some thought. What about you, Ignatz? What do you plan on doing once this whole mess is behind us?”

“Well… Ideally, I’ll keep painting,” he says. “Even if I have to do it between my duties as a knight. It might make it hard to find a household to serve, but I don’t want to just stop.”

“Why are you aiming to be a knight? How come you’re not just going off to be an artist or something like you want to?”

“My parents sent me to the academy since my brother’s taking over the business. They didn’t really approve of the whole artist thing.” Ignatz shrugs. “I don’t really think I’m all that cut out for it, to be honest. Fighting’s never been my strong suit.”

“Well that’s a shame,” Hilda says. “Have you ever spoken to them about it?”

He shook his head. "Not much recently, at least."

“You should. Maybe you can convince them, after all this. And if you can’t, then just come to House Goneril, okay? I’ll let you paint as much as you want.”

“That would be nice.” He smiles, then bends to reach for his bag. “Thank you, Hilda.”

“Any time.” She holds the sketchbook out. Ignatz takes it, tucks it gently alongside the others. Before he can put his brush away, he pauses.

“If you have time,” he starts. "Would you like to join me out here again tomorrow? We could work on our projects together, if you have any."

Hilda smiles. "I'd love to, but I'm on stock duty tomorrow. No shuffling off the responsibility for that."

"I see. That's too bad. Maybe next time?"

"... Sure. I'd like that."

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #FE3H #FE3h Fic #FE3H Zine #Beneath The Banner zine #Blacknovelist Writes #long post #(in case readmore breaks tho it shouldn't really)

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voemae582 · 5 years

Text

Fools Fall in Love

Short Fic.

Marinette has been thinking of him non stop for days and days. While she's alone, or at least thinks she is, her heart begins to sing about her longing feelings. After she's finished a shadow reveals himself seeing her in a new light. Is this the one she's in love with? Does he like her more then just a friend?

The school bell rang and Marinette shuffled out of her class with her best friend Alya. They went to their lockers and chatted with friends in the common area. After a while the students slowly dispersed and went home for the day. Marinette was standing at the entrance with Alya and Nino. The couple invited Marinette to watch a movie with them, but she had other plans.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with?" Alya asked Marinette.

She shook her head. "You two go, besides, I've got some stuff to do. Have fun."

"If you're sure?" Nino questioned.

"Yeah, I'll text you guys later."

She waved them off and once they were out of sight she turned around and went back into the building. Her hand slid up the railing as she stepped up the stair case. She hummed to herself and walked along the side of the railing on the second floor of the building. Looking down at the empty court yard made her feel calm. The fact that she was alone other than Tikki sleeping in her purse made her comfortable. At least for a while it gave her time to think of him.

She always liked him, she always enjoyed being around him. But she wasn't good at expressing herself. Anyone who knew her would tell you she's a mess when it comes to boys. After a few minutes she made it to her destination. The art room.

Before she could twist the knob, the door opened. Marc and Nathaniel came walking out. Marinette yelped a little at the sudden surprise. Nathaniel and Marc were always in the art room doing little projects together but them suddenly popping out scared not only her but them. After the shock wore off in a second, they laughed.

"Hey Marinette." Nath said.

"Sorry for the shock, we're just leaving." Marc added.

"Hi guys, done already?"

Nathaniel clenched his sketch book in his arms, "Yeah, we're going to Marc's to finish it up. I've got a good feeling about this story."

"It's all thanks to your art." Marc mentioned. Nathaniel smiled wider.

Marinette loved seeing them so happy. "When it's done, maybe I could read it? I bet it'll be amazing."

"Sure, we'll see you tomorrow."

Marinette waved bye to them and entered the classroom. The lights were off but there was so much natural light that she didn't need to turn them on. She set her bags on a table next to an isle and positioned a sketch pad on it.

After ten minutes of rough sketches she began humming to herself again. On the white piece of paper she made light lines and strokes making up the structure of a face. Her humming got more soft and gentle as she drew the details of the eyes. His face was detailed in her mind and she expressed her feelings with her pencil. Before she knew it there was one song in particular that rung in her head.

Meanwhile at the front of the school Adrien was getting out of his car. "I'll be right back, I think its in the classroom." Earlier that day Adrien forgot his Chinese book at school. He ran into the building and jogged up the stairs making it to his homeroom classroom. He grabbed the door and jiggled it. It was locked. "Locked?" He jiggled it again to no prevail.

Plagg flew out with his arms crossed. "So you miss a Chinese lesson, what's the harm?"

Adrien gave him a stern look. "You know what my father will say if I miss Chinese. Or well, it's more of a disappointed silence, which is worse." He looked around and saw no one. "There has to be someone here who has a key. Maintenance or a teacher?"

"Lets just-" Before Plagg could finish they heard the sound of something dropping a few classrooms away. Plagg hid in his master's bag and Adrien walked over hoping it was someone who could let him in.

The art room door was cracked open and he peered inside. His hand slowly pushed the door a little more open. No one was in sight, until he saw Marinette stand up. She had bent over to grab a pencil pouch she dropped. When she stood up quickly Adrien instinctively hid outside the door. He didn't know why he was hiding.

Marinette reached to put the pouch back on the table and some pencil's accidently rolled out and on the floor. She tried to catch them but fell in the process and Adrien heard her gasp as she slipped. When she tried to stand up again she hit her head under the table and a big thud echoed the room followed by a groan from the girl. She slowly stood up rubbing her head with one hand and placing the pencils on the table with the other.

Adrien couldn't help but giggle at her clumsiness. Even when no ones around she still trips. He thought of the saying, "If a tree falls and no ones around to hear it, does it really make a sound?"

"Marinette? Wow she really is clumsy..." Plagg blurted.

"Plagg, Shhhh!" Adrien hushed him.

While Adrien was arguing with Plagg, Marinette made sure the pencils wouldn't fall again and stood in front of her portrait. Tikki popped out of her purse, "Are you okay Marinette?"

"Yeah, sorry did I wake you?" She smiled at her sleepy kwami.

"No it's alright." She flew up and examined the picture. "Wow, Marinette this looks great."

"Thanks Tikki. I'm not quite done yet. It'll be a while longer, so if you want to nap some more you can."

"Just a few more minutes." Tikki kissed Marinette's cheek and snuggled back into her purse.

Outside the door Adrien was whispering to Plagg. "I should say something."

"Why? She doesn't know you're here, watching her all creepily." Plagg laughed.

He looked back into the classroom and before he went inside he was mesmerized by her. The look in her eyes, the focus and determination she had. He didn't want to bother her. He was about to leave but heard her start humming.

It was soothing.

He gazed back at her soft blue eyes. And she started to sing.

"Wise men say, Only fools rush in, But I can't help falling in love with you" She swayed to the rhythm. "Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, If I can't help falling in love with you?"

He leaned against the wall and rested his head against the door side.

Her lips formed a sweet smile. "Like a river flows, Surely to the sea, Darling, so it goes, Some things are meant to be."

He could watch her for hours.

"Take my hand, Take my whole life too, For I can't help falling in love with you. Like a river flows, Surely to the sea, Darling, so it goes, Some things are meant to be.."

At this point he desperately wanted to see the picture she was drawing with so much passion.

"Take my hand, Take my whole life too, For I can't help falling in love with you. For I can't help falling in love with you..." Once she was done singing she started to hum.

"Wow..." Adrien whispered. He stood straight and knocked on the door before pushing it fully open.

The knock made Marinette jump and fall on her butt. "A-Adrien!?"

He ran over to her to help her up quickly. "Marinette!? Are you okay?"

She got up as fast as she could so he wouldn't worry. "No! I-I mean yes, thank you." She cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, uh, I forgot my Chinese text book here and I saw the door open." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"I see..." She purposely stood in his way so couldn't walk around the isle and see her project.

Adrien awkwardly looked around trying to find anything to say. "Marinette, um, would you like to-"

"Marinette?"

Adrien looked behind him and saw Luka standing in the door way. "Luka?"

"Hey Adrien!" Luka waved.

"Luka, you're here already? Time sure flies by.." Marinette laughed.

Luka stood next to her. "You two going to hangout?" Adrien asked.

"Yeah, I'm teaching her guitar. You want to come over too?" Luka offered.

"Sorry, I have Chinese lessons..."

"Well maybe next time then. Ready to go?" He grabbed Marinette's bag for her and they started to leave.

"I'll see you in class Adrien." Marinette smiled.

"Y-yeah, see you tomorrow." He gave them a weak wave as they exited. As soon as they left Adrien let out an irritated sigh. "Marinette's just a friend."

"Sure kid, whatever you say." Plagg flew out and patted his cheek.

He noticed she left her sketch pad on the isle and walked around to see it. "Amazing..." The portrait was of Luka. His detailed blue eyes and wild hair. "Of course it is..." His finger tips caressed the surface of the page and he traced lightly not to smudge it the lines she was so focused on. "Lets go Plagg, the Gorilla's waiting."

"What about your book?"

"It doesn't matter." He was passing the isle and accidently bumped it, making the sketch pad fall. "Oops!" He knelt down to pick it up. When he flipped through the pages to find Luka's portrait he froze. There were portraits of him in it. From many different angles she drew him as well. Not only him there was at least a few of Chat Noir too. "Plagg do you see this?"

"So?"

"She drew me. Me! Adrien, Adrien and Chat Noir" He flipped through them and near the end his disappeared and Luka's began. "Wait, why did she stop?"

"That's what happens when you get a new muse. Sorry kid, but looks like she found a new tune."

"Tune?"

"Goodbye pianist, hello rock star!" Plagg played air guitar.

Adrien put it back on the isle and walked out of the room. "Let's pretend we didn't see it after all." He started plotting down the stairs melancholy and saw Marinette running in the building. She ran up only a few steps above him and looked down at him as he looked at her.

"Um, forgot something." She shrugged.

"It happens to the best of us." He smiled. She giggle and ran the rest of the way up the stairs. He watched her go into the art room. "I'm such a fool." And he walked out of the building.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #luka couffaine #adrienette #lukanette #chat noir #ml fanfic #ml #my fanfiction #my fic #ladybug

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kylo-v · 5 years

Text

All V Poems

William Blake, A Dream

Once a dream did weave a shade

O'er my angel-guarded bed,

That an emmet lost its way

Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,

Dark, benighted, travel-worn,

Over many a tangle spray,

All heart-broke, I heard her say:

'Oh my children! do they cry,

Do they hear their father sigh?

Now they look abroad to see,

Now return and weep for me.'

Pitying, I dropped a tear:

But I saw a glow-worm near,

Who replied, 'What wailing wight

Calls the watchman of the night?

'I am set to light the ground,

While the beetle goes his round:

Follow now the beetle's hum;

Little wanderer, hie thee home!'

William Blake, Proverbs of Hell

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.

Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead.

The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.

Prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by Incapacity.

He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence. The cut worm forgives the plow.

Dip him in the river who loves water. A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.

He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.

Eternity is in love with the productions of time.

The busy bee has no time for sorrow.

The hours of folly are measur’d by the clock, but of wisdom: no clock can measure.

All wholsom food is caught without a net or a trap.

Bring out number weight & measure in a year of dearth.

No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings.

A dead body, revenges not injuries.

The most sublime act is to set another before you.

If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise.

Folly is the cloke of knavery. Shame is Prides cloke.

Prisons are built with stones of Law, Brothels with bricks of Religion.

The pride of the peacock is the glory of God. The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.

The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.

The nakedness of woman is the work of God.

Excess of sorrow laughs.

Excess of joy weeps.

The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity too great for the eye of man.

The fox condemns the trap, not himself.

Joys impregnate.

Sorrows bring forth.

Let man wear the fell of the lion, woman the fleece of the sheep.

The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship.

The selfish smiling fool, & the sullen frowning fool, shall be both thought wise, that they may be a rod.

What is now proved was once, only imagin’d.

The rat, the mouse, the fox, the rabbit: watch the roots; the lion, the tyger, the horse, the elephant, watch the fruits.

The cistern contains; the fountain overflows.

One thought, fills immensity.

Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you.

Every thing possible to be believ’d is an image of truth.

The eagle never lost so much time, as when he submitted to learn of the crow.

The fox provides for himself, but God provides for the lion.

Think in the morning.

Act in the noon.

Eat in the evening.

Sleep in the night.

He who has suffer’d you to impose on him knows you.

As the plow follows words, so God rewards prayers.

The tygers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.

Expect poison from the standing water.

You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.

Listen to the fools reproach! it is a kingly title!

The eyes of fire, the nostrils of air, the mouth of water, the beard of earth.

The weak in courage is strong in cunning.

The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion, the horse, how he shall take his prey.

The thankful reciever bears a plentiful harvest.

If others had not been foolish, we should be so.

The soul of sweet delight, can never be defil’d.

When thou seest an Eagle, thou seest a portion of Genius, lift up thy head!

As the catterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys.

To create a little flower is the labour of ages.

Damn, braces: Bless relaxes.

The best wine is the oldest, the best water the newest.

Prayers plow not! Praises reap not!

Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not!

The head Sublime, the heart Pathos, the genitals Beauty, the hands & feet Proportion.

As the air to a bird of the sea to a fish, so is contempt to the contemptible.

The crow wish’d every thing was black, the owl, that every thing was white.

Exuberance is Beauty.

If the lion was advised by the fox, he would be cunning.

Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius.

Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires.

Where man is not nature is barren.

Truth can never be told so as to be understood, and not be believ’d.

Enough! or Too much!

William Black, Earth’s Answer

Earth rais'd up her head,

From the darkness dread & drear.

Her light fled:

Stony dread!

And her locks cover'd with grey despair.

Prison'd on watry shore

Starry Jealousy does keep my den

Cold and hoar

Weeping o'er

I hear the Father of the ancient men

Selfish father of men

Cruel, jealous, selfish fear

Can delight

Chain'd in night

The virgins of youth and morning bear.

Does spring hide its joy

When buds and blossoms grow?

Does the sower?

Sow by night?

Or the plowman in darkness plow?

Break this heavy chain,

That does freeze my bones around

Selfish! vain!

Eternal bane!

That free Love with bondage bound.

William Blake, Love and Harmony Combine

LOVE and harmony combine

And around our souls entwine,

While thy branches mix with mine

And our roots together join.

Joys upon our branches sit,

Chirping loud and singing sweet;

Like gentle streams beneath our feet,

Innocence and virtue meet.

Thou the golden fruit dost bear,

I am clad in flowers fair;

Thy sweet boughs perfume the air,

And the turtle buildeth there.

There she sits and feeds her young;

Sweet I hear her mournful song;

And thy lovely leaves among,

There is Love: I hear his tongue.

There his charmed nest he doth lay,

There he sleeps the night away,

There he sports along the day,

And doth among our branches play.

William Blake, Songs of Innocence, “Infant Joy”

I have no name

I am but two days old.—

What shall I call thee?

I happy am

Joy is my name,—

Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!

Sweet joy but two days old,

Sweet joy I call thee;

Thou dost smile.

I sing the while

Sweet joy befall thee.

William Blake, Poetical Sketches

Oft when the summer sleeps among the trees,

Whispering faint murmurs to the scanty breeze,

I walk the village round; if at her side

A youth doth walk in stolen joy and pride,

I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe,

That made my love so high and me so low.

O should she e'er prove false, his limbs I'd tear

And throw all pity on the burning air;

I'd curse bright fortune for my mixed lot,

And then I'd die in peace, and be forgot.

TO THE MUSES.

WHETHER on Ida's shady brow

Or in the chambers of the East,

The chambers of the Sun, that now

From ancient melody have ceased;

Whether in heaven ye wander fair

Or the green corners of the earth,

Or the blue regions of the air,

Where the melodious winds have birth;

Whether on crystal rocks ye rove,

Beneath the bosom of the sea

Wandering in many a coral grove,

Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry!

William Blake, Auguries of Innocence

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour

A Robin Red breast in a Cage

Puts all Heaven in a Rage

A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons

Shudders Hell thr' all its regions

A dog starvd at his Masters Gate

Predicts the ruin of the State

A Horse misusd upon the Road

Calls to Heaven for Human blood

Each outcry of the hunted Hare

A fibre from the Brain does tear

A Skylark wounded in the wing

A Cherubim does cease to sing

The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight

Does the Rising Sun affright

Every Wolfs & Lions howl

Raises from Hell a Human Soul

The wild deer, wandring here & there

Keeps the Human Soul from Care

The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife

And yet forgives the Butchers knife

The Bat that flits at close of Eve

Has left the Brain that wont Believe

The Owl that calls upon the Night

Speaks the Unbelievers fright

He who shall hurt the little Wren

Shall never be belovd by Men

He who the Ox to wrath has movd

Shall never be by Woman lovd

The wanton Boy that kills the Fly

Shall feel the Spiders enmity

He who torments the Chafers Sprite

Weaves a Bower in endless Night

The Catterpiller on the Leaf

Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief

Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly

For the Last Judgment draweth nigh

He who shall train the Horse to War

Shall never pass the Polar Bar

The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat

Feed them & thou wilt grow fat

The Gnat that sings his Summers Song

Poison gets from Slanders tongue

The poison of the Snake & Newt

Is the sweat of Envys Foot

The poison of the Honey Bee

Is the Artists Jealousy

The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags

Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags

A Truth thats told with bad intent

Beats all the Lies you can invent

It is right it should be so

Man was made for Joy & Woe

And when this we rightly know

Thro the World we safely go

Joy & Woe are woven fine

A Clothing for the soul divine

Under every grief & pine

Runs a joy with silken twine

The Babe is more than swadling Bands

Throughout all these Human Lands

Tools were made & Born were hands

Every Farmer Understands

Every Tear from Every Eye

Becomes a Babe in Eternity

This is caught by Females bright

And returnd to its own delight

The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar

Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore

The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath

Writes Revenge in realms of Death

The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air

Does to Rags the Heavens tear

The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun

Palsied strikes the Summers Sun

The poor Mans Farthing is worth more

Than all the Gold on Africs Shore

One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands

Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands

Or if protected from on high

Does that whole Nation sell & buy

He who mocks the Infants Faith

Shall be mockd in Age & Death

He who shall teach the Child to Doubt

The rotting Grave shall neer get out

He who respects the Infants faith

Triumphs over Hell & Death

The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons

Are the Fruits of the Two seasons

The Questioner who sits so sly

Shall never know how to Reply

He who replies to words of Doubt

Doth put the Light of Knowledge out

The Strongest Poison ever known

Came from Caesars Laurel Crown

Nought can Deform the Human Race

Like to the Armours iron brace

When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow

To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow

A Riddle or the Crickets Cry

Is to Doubt a fit Reply

The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile

Make Lame Philosophy to smile

He who Doubts from what he sees

Will neer Believe do what you Please

If the Sun & Moon should Doubt

Theyd immediately Go out

To be in a Passion you Good may Do

But no Good if a Passion is in you

The Whore & Gambler by the State

Licencd build that Nations Fate

The Harlots cry from Street to Street

Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet

The Winners Shout the Losers Curse

Dance before dead Englands Hearse

Every Night & every Morn

Some to Misery are Born

Every Morn and every Night

Some are Born to sweet delight

Some are Born to Endless Night

We are led to Believe a Lie

When we see not Thro the Eye

Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night

When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light

God Appears & God is Light

To those poor Souls who dwell in Night

But does a Human Form Display

To those who Dwell in Realms of day

#v #dmc5 v #devil may cry 5 v #v devil may cry 5 #devil may cry 5 #devil may cry #v devil may cry #poems #poetry #william blake #william blake poems #dmc fandom

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buckylokistark · 4 years

Text

Paintings ~ Part II

Summary: Loki fled his home, too tired of being the cause of his father’s constant disappointment. With help from Heimdall, he escapes to Midgard, the last place his father would look for him. In dire need of a job, he meets Y/N, a struggling artist trying to be recognised for her work. Can they help each other or are they holding one another back?

Masterlist

previously on Paintings: “Depends, are you Y/N?” You opened and closed your mouth a few times. Having recognised his face, you realise you were standing right in front of none other than Tony Stark, former CEO of Stark Industries and billionaire.

__________

“Uhm, huh- yes, yes I am. Pleased to meet you, sir.” You held out your hand for him to shake, trying to stop stumbling over your own words. Seriously, it’s English, what’s so hard about that?!

Tony Stark then took your hand, shaking it with a firm grip before releasing it and sitting back down. Wait, when did he get up?

“So, you’re making the new artwork?”

“Yup, that’s me, I’m the one.” God, you’re still acting like a fool. Get it together!

“So modern art is your niche?” You nodded. "And you’ll do any modern style?"

“Well, I focus on expressionism, although I am not bad when it comes to surrealism, for example Salvador Dali and his melting clocks. Kubism, abstract expressionism, acrylic, watercolour, I can do almost all expressionistic art forms with most materials.” You take on a proud tone, happy to talk art. This is where your comfort zone lies, your escape route, your go-to topic for a safe conversation.

“You’re in luck, I want something expressionistic, never been one for surrealism. You had anything in mind?” He was completely down to let you handle anything, as long as he knew what 'anything' contains.

“Not really, I need to make a painting suitable for a person but also make it suitable for their home and perhaps other occupants of the room. Would you rather we schedule a time for me to come take a look or do you want to email me some photos?” You got out your agenda, having always preffered writing things down instead of typing. It might have something to do with forgetting typed things, only remembering them when on paper.

“I think a visit would be better, right? Makes you get a feel of the room, the space, a more in-depth experience for a better result.” He was just grasping at ideas now, sipping his coffee calmly and leaning back in his chair.

“Hmm, yeah, you’re right, but some people are too busy or aren’t comfortable in letting me in their house so they email me.” It was indeed more difficult, but they weren't comfortable so you just had to work with what you had.

"Not to sound like an absolute douchebag, but my team did a background check and everything, they wouldn't let me just choose someone, they had to check them thoroughly. You're very lucky, by the way. I had to persuade them to let you do your thing. I believe you know what part made them doubt you?" You did know what he was talking about, and shame filled you to the brim.

About twelve years ago, you had an enormous fall-out with your family, resulting in them sabotaging your income by spreading awful rumours about you. Your income did decline drastically, making you nearly bankrupt. In the desperate need of money, you ended up working for Strak Industries, a company solely focused on copying and faking Stark Industrie products. From securitysystems and phones to merchandise, everything was copied. You got a job of replicating the stuffed animals as close as you could get with cheaper materials. The pay wasn't great but it got you back on your feet, ready to continue painting. Stark Industries and Strak Industries got in a huge fight, legal authorities getting involved. Because you had workes your way up to manager of the production of all the stuffed animals, you were put in a bad spot.

"yeah, sorry, I was on the brink of losing everything," you ended up saying, cursing yourself as soon as the words left your mouth. "losing everything?!" You could've said anything and you chose that?

Stark gave you a look, but thankfully didn't comment on the words.

"So, when do you want me to come by? I would prefer as soon as possible, but it's up to you." He opened his phone, looking on his agenda for a possible date. Scratching his goatee lightly, he pursed his lips before sighing and saying, "Would coming thursday work? Two days away?"

"Yes, absolutely. Any time in mind? Perhaps early morning or afternoon?"

Stark tought for a moment, excusing himself to look more thoroughly on his phone to see when he'd have time.

“How about 5 o’clock in the afternoon? would that work for you?" He tilted his head, eyes so intense it seemed as if they were looking right through you.

After finetuning the details, you finished talking and drove back to the shop, cursing yourself for taking so long.

Soon you arrived at your atelier, seeing Loki through the glass window reading a book.

You smiled to yourself. Loki was the kindest soul you've met in your life, gentle and soft like nobody else could ever be. It made you wonder if there was a possibility for something more. something intimate.

a crow, as black as the night, flew past, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your eyes followed the black bird before wandering back to the shop. Finally you moved, slowly walking towards the entrance.

the bell above the door jingled softly, letting Loki know someone entered. He looked up and smiled, slowly closing his book and moving towards you with so much grace it was impossible to look away.

“Hi Loki, I got to go, still need to finish that two window piece for Mrs. Barton and the final sketch for the mural that one woman, what’s-her-name, wanted. The blue, winter, ice-y vibe?” You rushed to the back of your shop, throwing your bags in a corner and running up the stairs to put on your older clothes, the ones that were allowed to get a bit of paint on them.

“The woman’s called Idina Menzel, the one who voices the lead character in that new movie, Frozen?” Loki has listened to you praise the trailers with such emotion, he took it up himself and researched the main characters, discovering that the woman who ordered a mural two weeks ago from your shop. The mural made more sense now, as well.

The words Loki spoke made you halt. Lead character in Frozen? She asked you, a small, unexperienced artist, to paint a mural for her? A smile began to grow on your face. Spinning around, you ran back to Loki.

“Oh my- she- she ‘s famous and bought something from me? This is huge! I will be known by a few circles of famous people now that Tony Stark and Idina Menzel ordered from me! Do you understand what this means? I can finally get recognised for my work, I can finally earn enough to buy my own place!” You barrelled full force into Loki, hugging him close. Loki himself slowly hugged back, unsure of what exactly to do.

Loki smiled. You were happier than you’ve veer been all year, even with the stress of performing good for famous people. Lost in his thoughts, Loki looked out the window. A black raven sat on the little bench across the street, looking right at him. No, he thought with a shock as his eyes grew large, not an ordinary black raven. This little bird was Diaval, loyal assistant to Maleficent, Loki’s distant relative. What is he doing here?

“Loki? Is something wrong?” His eyes flew back to yours when your words registered in his head.

“No, love, nothing’s wrong. I just realised I forgot to do something, could I be excused for a bit so I can go home and finish it?” He glanced outside, seeing Diaval still sitting there, quietly waiting. You let go of him, nodding your head.

“Of course you can, no problem. I got nothing planned for the rest of the day so the shop won’t be empty, you’re free to go.” With that, you hugged him one ast time, saying a quick goodbye before turning around and walking to your current project. One last look and wave, and Loki was out the door.

“Where is she, Diaval?” The raven flew to the right, landing in a small alley and morphing back to human.

“This way, she’s bought a new place down in Queens when she heard you were staying here.” Loki groaned. Ever since they found out about each other, Maleficent started acting as his big sister, watching all his moves like a hawk.

He followed Diaval into the alleyway, preparing for the inevitable Apparition he had to make.

“Alright, name the address, I’ll take us there,” Loki said, making his disdain clear in his voice. Diaval rattled the location, and off they were.

“Where are we?”

“The back of the diner a block away from your house, she put anti-Apparition-wards up, didn’t she?” At the last part, Diaval sheepishly nodded his head.

"Hello Loki."

"Maleficent." As was expected, Maleficent looked as stunning as the gods themselves, flaunting her body with a black. Maybe it was a family thing?

"I have come here to talk to you about important matters." As the words left Maleficent’s mouth, Loki's eyes flicked to hers. Important matters? With her resources it must be life-threatening to come to him for assistance.

"There have been... unusual sightings in Europe. It appears to be a form of magic, more powerful than I have ever seen in my entire life."

"You have any leads on the exact location?"

"It seems to be traveling. I have people running tabs on it. It started in England, then went off the radar for a while before reappearing in France, where it travelled through Belgium, into Holland. They're travelling east, getting closer to Germany as we speak."

What could there be in Germany, the northern part of it, that would be attractive to someone who possesses magic? You got the big cities, Dusseldorf, Berlin, maybe Hamburg? Or perhaps...

"Cologne. They're heading for Cologne." Maleficent looked at him weirdly.

"Why would they go to Cologne?"

"I visited this woman, truly magnificent, who took care of all mutants from Holland, Belgium and Germany. The school of Xavier was too expensive and small for mainland Europeans, so I helped set it up just outside the city," Loki admitted with a sigh. He had hoped to never see her again, one time was more than enough and he doesn’t know how she’ll react to him suddenly appearing out of nowhere after leaving her alone for eighty years.

__________

Taglist: @birdgirl90 @lunawitch19 @bird-with-pencils @shesakillerkween

#loki x reader #michelle's writings #paintings #loki

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fanfictionisvalid · 5 years

Text

Next Door Mistake || Elucien

Word count: a little under 3k.

Sitting by the window on a lazy Saturday afternoon in soft comfortable pyjama shorts and a huge loose t-shirt with a pencil In hand and a sketch book open in your lap was the best way to spend the weekend. At least in Elain's taste it was. Elain pondered upon which detail to alter or add to make the sketch mimic the tree standing tall outside her window. Her brown hair was up in a haphazard bun, another pencil tucked in there to hold her hair together and away from her face. She scrunched her nose to push her broad framed glasses up the bridge of her nose, when the doorbell rang.

Sighing, she got up and stumbled her way to the door. She pulled the door open to see a middle aged man with a frown between his brows standing in front of her with a parcel in his hand and a clipboard in his other. He was tapping his leg on the ground impatiently, his lips pursed.

“Took you long enough! Here’s your parcel, sign this sheet here and I’ll be on my way,” he said impatiently. Elain timidly took the parcel in her hand and went to examine it. “Quick, girl! I don't have all day!” the man interjected. She was about to protest that she did not order anything, nor was she expecting a parcel but on seeing the impatient and frustrated look in the man's eyes and the incessant tapping of his leg on the floor, she reached for the clipboard he was holding out. She noticed there was another man behind the impatient delivery man; another delivery boy from the Chinese restaurant just around the block. He was waiting for the door across Elain's to open. Lucien's door.

Lucien, the redhead who lived across from Elain. Lucien, who was too cool to notice Elain. Lucien, on whom Elain was crushing big time. Its not like they didnt talk at all. Part of the reason why Elain fell for him was because even though he seemed to be rich and spoilt, and he was for the most part, he was also sweet, gentle and well spoken. He always greeted Elain whenever they met in the lift or in the parking lot. He held a decent conversation and often helped Elain carry her stuff when she had one too many bags.

But Lucien did not care more for fumbling Flower girls like Elain. A friendly neighbour was all she was to him. His kind of girls were those who wore stilettos and short skirts and frequented clubs and bars, face composed of sharply cut features, all eager for a one night stand with boys like Lucien. She knew because she had run into his shenanigans one too many times on late Sunday mornings in the lobby. But that did not exactly stop her heart from racing at the very thought of seeing Lucien.

Elain held her breath, waiting with the delivery boy for someone to open the door. She nervously wet her lips and blindly signed a scribble of her name where the man in front of her pointed to. The door unlocked and opened and Elain froze, waiting to see that beautiful face of his. Elain deflated in disappointment when it was not Lucien who opened the door. It was Tamlin, his best friend. He was often over so Elain knew of him. He accepted the parcel, drunkenness swimming in his gaze and met Elain's eyes over the boy's shoulders. The man with the parcel had left and Elain had not realised that she was standing by her door alone, looking as if she was waiting for someone. She flushed and gave him a weak smile. Tamlin mimicked her smile and gave her a small wave.

He went inside the house, leaving the door open, probably gone to fetch the money. Elain swallowed her disappointment and went to close her door when she heard Tamlin shout, “Pay up, asshole!” and then she saw him.

She took in a sharp breath as he came into view, shirtless, hair messed up, lazy eyes on his hands as he counted the money. His checkered pyjama was lying low on his waist, his precise abs and toned chest on display and Elain had to force her eyes away from his body. Lucien looked up and met her eyes before seeing the delivery boy. He froze, but cleared his throat and composure and handed the boy the money and absently said “keep the change.” His eyes kept darting to Elain and she forgot all about having to go back inside her house and not making a fool of herself looking like she was waiting to see him.

But even after the delivery boy left, Lucien didn’t make a move to shut his door. He stood there while an almost awkward silence stretched between them. When he cleared his throat, Elain snapped back into attention and her face flushed.

“Hi,” she offered weakly.

“Hey” he said. “What’s up?”

“Uh.. I was just.. I had a.. I was just signing off a delivery.” She said, while awkwardly waving the parcel in her hand. Get a grip on yourself. So what if this is the first time you’ve seen him shirtless. Just breathe and say bye and you can hyperventilate all you want later.

“Ah.. alright, alright. Cute pyjamas by the way.” He pointed out. Elain blushed. “Listen, um, what are y–“

Before he could finish what he was saying Tamlin called from inside. “Hey Fucker, come in here or I’m eating without you!”

“Right.. um your friend’s calling,” She said.

No shit, smarty.

“Yeah uh, see you later, Elain.” He smiled his smile and Elain's heart sighed at the beautiful sight and then she was standing alone. She sighed and shut the door, resting her back against it and closing her eyes. She relished in the image of a shirtless Lucien for some time before forcing herself off the door.

She sat herself down on her couch and opened the brown parcel. Inside was a violet colour rod like thing with a bulb at the end. Elain frowned in confusion. She picked it up to examine it further, turning it this way and that. And then her eyes fell on the brochure at the base of the box... And Elain froze.

It was a vibrator.

A sex toy.

Elain, with her eyes wide, dropped the vibrator back in the box. In shock, Elain opened her mouth to voice some thought but none of the jumbled mess in her head worded itself.

One thing she was sure of was that she had not ordered a sex toy.

Even though she was not a prude, she was fairly reserved with her own sexuality. Having had sex with only her ex, Elain hadn’t had much experience with sex toys. And she was definitely not frisky enough to order one for herself now.

Eyes widened, Elain stiffly reached for the flap of the box and turned it to read the delivery address. And if she was shocked before, she was stunned now. The package was addressed to a Lucien Vanserra.

Oh.

Elain didn’t know what to think. Surely, he takes one too many temporary lovers to buy something like this. What’s better than a guy who knows exactly how to pleasure a girl, right? But what was worse was that Elain would now have to go up to his house, knock on his door, face him and hand him his sex toy. Just thinking about it made Elain cringe with embarrassment.

Better to get it out of the way already, Elain thought. Walking out of her house with the brown package in her hand, Elain stepped up to his. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to calm her nerves. She would just return the package as if she didn’t open it and see what was inside and walk away. Yes, perfect. She was going to do just that. Just act normal.

She rang the doorbell.

Two seconds later the door opened and Lucien stood before her, still very shirtless.

“Oh, Elain, uh hi!” said Lucien, clearly not expecting Elain.

“Hey, uh hi Lucien.. I- this package got delivered to me today, but it is addressed to you.. it must've been a mistake.” She laughed nervously and shoved the package forward. He took the box from her hand and said, “thanks.” He looked at the box and back at her face, still by the door as if he wanted to say something and Elain gulped nervously. After a minute of silence between them Elain smiled tightly and said, “okay so.. have a good day, bye bye!” and without waiting for his response she walked straight into her apartment and shut the door behind her.

Phew.

~~~

Lucien was never the nervous type. He was pretty sorted, if you asked him. Once he figured out what he wanted, he would just go and get it. He did not believe in beating about the bush. And last night sitting with Tamlin on their window, drinking beer, Tamlin had kicked his leg and told him what he couldn’t figure out on his own. “I think you might be crushing on your dear flowery neighbour. And before you ask me why I think so.. Every time you meet her you just cannot stop talking about her until you have given me a detailed description of how cute she looked, or how she blushed, or how flustered you got her and how proud it made you feel. Gotta face it, bro.” And Lucien saw sense in that. He did enjoy seeing a pink hue spread on her cheeks and the way she looked away nervously. He had an effect on her and it was obvious. What wasn't obvious was that the friendly flirting was more than just friendly for Lucien. So many times he went out of his way to help her carry her grocery up just so he could spend some extra minutes with her.

It was ridiculous, really, how Lucien literally felt like a dog rolling over to get his belly rubbed by its favourite person everytime Elain was paying him attention. But just because Elain paid him heed did not mean she would be interested in going out with him. She was naturally a timid and quiet girl, easily flustered and clumsy. Just because she blushed when Lucien talked too nicely with her did not mean she would want to go out with someone like Lucien. He drank, smoked, took a girl home every other weekend if not every one. Elain's type was probably guys who volunteered at shelters and spent their free time at the library or investing in their passion; someone with an artistic temperament and a polite disposition.

But Lucien could not just not try. Maybe the wind blew in the right direction and she said yes. Or maybe she said no and things just get so awkward between them that they only indulged in small talk and the-weather-seems-nice-today 's. Oh god.

But on Tamlin's encouragement, he decided to try and ask her out for something casual, like coffee. But since that day she did not have work, she would have probably spent the whole day holed up in her house. So whatever chance Lucien got, he tried to ask her but something or the other got in the way. Mostly his own nerves. When she handed him the parcel, he was looking for words to ask her for coffee but after he failed to find words, she left as if in a hurry to get away from him and shut the door with a bang. And now Lucien fell on the couch and threw the parcel to Tamlin. He had ordered something a couple days back so it must be his.

"The delivery guy made a mistake and delivered it at Elain's." Lucien said offhandedly.

Tamlin replied, "I dont even remember what I had ordered LOL, i must've been too drunk."

And as he opened the parcel with ease he fell quiet. Lucien looked up from his phone when Tamlin did not automatically tell him about what was inside. Tamlin looked at Lucien with a funny expression and burst out laughing. Lucien frowned. "Ooookay what's up? Why are you laughing like that?"

"You.. oh my god.. Elain opened this parcel, oh lord," Tamlin got out somehow between fits of laughter. Lucien snatched the parcel from him with a scowl. On peering inside, he froze.

Oh fuck.

~~~

Lucien stood in front of Elain's door later that evening. He had originally vowed to never leave his house again and hope to die of embarrassment soon. Elain, that poor innocent flower girl, probably thought it was Lucien's. No wonder she was in such a hurry to get away from him. Now that he thought about it, it was clear she must have been so embarrassed.

After Tamlin was done laughing, he asked Lucien to stop cursing him and making plans to slip into hibernation. Instead, he said, "Go to her place and apologise. This way you'll get a chance to talk to her; an opportunity you've been looking for since Morning." When Lucien protested too much, Tamlin kicked him out of his own appartment. And here he was now, knocking on Elain's door. Lucien did not understand how he could go from apologising for Tamlin's sex toy getting delivered at her place to asking her out. Ridiculous.

He softly knocked on the door, hoping that Elain didn't hear him and he never would have to face her. But five seconds later, the door swung open. Her hair was open and she was still in her pyjamas and it was clear by the way her lips parted that he wasn't expected.

"Hi, uh, what's up?" She asked.

"Uh.. I wanted to apologise..?"

SHIT, no, not a good starter. TRY AGAIN.

At the confused look on her face, he rushed out a, "C-can I come in?"

Great start.

"Uh, Sure," she said.

She opened the door wider and walked in, leaving Lucien to shut the door after him. "Tea?" She offered. Lucien politely declined. She gestured for them to sit on the light blue couch.

"So, you were saying?"

"Right.. uh.. I know you got a parcel today that was supposed to come to my place instead," he said and paused to watch the redness creeping up her neck as the realization came upon her. "I- I know it must've been really awkward for you, and I'm truly sorry for that," he finished in a hurry.

"Uh.. it was a bit awkward, I admit." She paused to wet her lips. "But hey, mistakes happen, right?" She offered a tight smile and looked away.

"For the record, I- uh, it wasn't mine..," he hurried to say. "I mean, it wasn't my order. It was Tamlin's. He and his new girlfriend are into all this.." he trailed off once he realised he was probably giving her unnecessary and uncomfortable details. Her eyes darted to his and then away.

An awkward silence stretched between them.

This is the window, Lucien, ASK HER OUT.

After a minute of palpable tension, she cleared her throat. He snapped to his senses and chickened out. Nope, definitely not the right time.

"So I should probably go."

"Is that all?"

They both said at the same time.

"Uh, okay yeah alright, uh, see you around, Lucien." She said. He jerkily nodded.

They both stood up and walked to the door. As Lucien walked through the doorway, he turned around once more to say bye. Elain stood holding the door. As Lucien turned around once more and walked two steps something got over him and he abruptly turned around again. Elain was closing the door when Lucien shouted, "Will you go out with me!?"

The door stopped in its spot and Lucien held his breath, waiting, as the door slowly reopened to show a wide eyed Elain.

"Will you go out with me, Elain?" Lucien said in more appropriate volume. "I would like to take you out for coffee, perhaps, tomorrow. Or the day after, maybe. Or whenever you're free. Of course, only if you wanted to." He rambled.

When Elain did not answer for a couple minutes, only stood there opening and closing her mouth like a fish, Lucien took a step forward with his hands spread out. "You don't have to worry about any awkwardness if you want to say no. We can just go back to being friendly neighbours. Just-" lucien sighed, "I realised I really like you Elain and I thought it wouldn't be nice of me to not even tell you it. I would totally understand if you said no, though, I mean, of course , why would you–"

"Yes." Elain interrupted him. "I would like to go out on a coffee date with you. I mean, out with you. For coffee. Something else is fine too, of course. Not that coffee is bad. Coffee is cool." She swallowed and shut herself up. Elain smiled and her cheeks glowed with a red hue and there was nothing that could have stopped Lucien from grinning like an idiot. "Coffee is cool," he repeated from around his grin.

"Alright," he cleared his throat, "I'll, uh, how about tomorrow? I'll see you tomorrow, eh?"

"Yeah, tomorrow sounds good. Alright, yeah." She shyly said.

"Alright, uh, we can go to the Cafe together?"

"Sure, yeah. Cool."

They both nodded, trying to hide their smiles like shy teenagers and Lucien unlocked his own door. He turned around one last time to see Elain still standing there with a brilliant smile on her face that melted his heart. He walked into his own apartment backward. As he shut the door after a final wave, a scream left him when he saw a smirking Tamlin waiting for him behind the door.

"I guess it went well, ha?" Tamlin teased and wiggled his brows. "You should thank my sex life for initiating your love life, ya know? If it hadnt been for this vibrator, you would've never grown the balls to approach her yourself!"

He couldn't deny that he was, in fact, thankful of the vibrator and the delivery guy whose mistake made it possible for Lucien to finally ask her out. And maybe Tamlin was to thank too. But Lucien was not going to tell him that. So he picked up his slippers and threw it at Tamlin's retreating back. But Tamlin knew even without turning around that nothing, not even the finger he was flipping Lucien, could wipe the smile off his face.

Tag: @asterinblackbeek

#elucien #modern elucien #elucien imagine #elucien fanfic #lucien vanserra #lucien #lucien x elain #elain x lucien #fanfiction #fanfiction is valid #sarah j maas #maasian #acotar fanfic #acotar fan fiction #sarah j maas fic #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic

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shadowofadalekmightdeactivate · 6 years

Text

Still Human Chapter 2

Roman bounced up and down excitedly, twisting his hands together. Today was the day he started a new school! He tried his hardest to not flap his hands to vent excitement. His mom didn’t like when he did that. Instead he pulled a beat-up blue stuffy from his bag and hugged it to him. “Remember, Roman, it’s going to be a whole new ball game,” his mom warned from the wheel of the car. Her son just grinned brightly in response. Karen sighed slightly, pitying herself. Why was her son born with Autism? Don’t get her wrong-she loved him very much…But every so often she imagined how her life would be like if she had a normal kid. A kid that didn’t cry at the drop of a hat, didn’t refuse to wear anything that wasn’t either a very soft hoodie or his prince costume from almost 5 Halloweens ago, a kid that was more like her. The collage coming into view pulled her from her thoughts. She pulled into the parking lot and helped her son out of the car. “Have a good first day, Romi. I’ll pick you up when classes are over.” Roman bounced off happily, not seeming to notice the fact that his mom had neglected to say ‘I love you’.

Roman followed a map to the admissions building. It looked more like a castle to him! He hummed to himself as he entered, stopping to find he was suddenly almost in the middle of nowhere. This building was so big-where was the office?! The old not-quite-panic feeling squeezed his chest, and he hugged Stitch tighter to him in an attempt to calm down. People milled past him and they suddenly seemed to come by the thousands- “Are you okay?” He snapped his head up at the sound of the voice. A person with dyed teal hair was looking at him with concern. He dropped Stitch and put his hands to his head. Too much too MUCH! “What’s going on?” Dr. Picani came out of his office to see the commotion. “Talyn? What happened?” “I-I don’t know,” the young non-binary student stammered. “I saw he was having trouble and came to help, but-“ Picani moved past her, walking to the male that was flapping his hands to beat the band. “Hey, kiddo, it’s okay…Can you look at me?” “D-Don’t touch me!” Roman sobbed. Picani backed up a little. “I’m not going to touch you. I’m here to help you, see?” Roman shook his head, hugging himself. Picani noticed a well-loved stuffy lying on the floor. He slowly knelt to pick it up and hold it out to the Autistic boy. “Is this yours?” Roman snatched Stich back so fast the ear was ripped almost off. He hugged him to him again and fell to his knees. Picani gave Talyn a comforting smile. “Go to class, Talyn. I’ll handle it from here. Thank you for trying to help.” Talyn bowed slightly, leaving to their next class a little perplexed. They’d never seen someone act like that…Maybe it was just high anxiety? They vowed to befriend the boy if he was in any of their classes. God knows the kid seems to really need a friend.

Roman was back to his bouncy self a few moments later, albeit a little embarrassed. His mom always told him he made a fool of himself in public sometimes…This was one of those times. The man with him-Dr. Picani, he said to call him-didn’t seem to mind how he’d acted in the hall. If anything he acted like it didn’t happen, which Roman was kind of grateful for. Maybe if he forgot about the ordeal he could have a good first day after all! “No dorm?” Dr. Picani’s voice cut into his thoughts. He nodded vigorously. “Mom lives an hour away from here, so I’m staying with her.” Dr. Picani nodded, then grabbed a pen from his cup and scribbled something onto Roman’s class list. “Here’s someone you can call if you need help.” “Thank you!” “And Roman…” Roman met his eyes briefly at the sound of his name. “It’s okay to ask for help if you feel overwhelmed.” Roman hunched his shoulders in embarrassment. He hadn’t forgotten. He nodded slightly, stuffing his class list and Stich in his bag before taking off to today’s class.

Virgil rested at the steps of his next class, glad for the few moments of peace. After Lily’s excited tour of the dorms he needed a break from optimism, from being dragged everywhere and meeting random people. He put on his music and pulled out his sketchbook, continuing his sketch of a black Kitsune that he’d started on the bus. He could get lost in this world for hours, just him and his drawings and music. People passing by didn’t bother him, even if they nudged him aside to make room for their big egos. So it surprised him how he noticed the shock of auburn hair appear behind his sketchbook. He lowered the book and was met with a man about his age, staring at him intently with big brown eyes. The man smiled when he realized Virgil had noticed him. “Hello! What’re you drawing? Can I see?” “No.” Virgil put his book back up and curled up tighter, blocking out the world again. The red-haired man just moved beside him. Virgil covered his work and hissed at him without thinking. The redhead giggled. “You’re like a kitty!” Virgil raised his eyebrow. Was he stupid? He sounded too cheery for someone in his 20’s. Redhead just stared back at him. Virgil noticed his eyes sometimes darted around. No eye contact, hm. He started packing up his stuff when Redhead started talking again. “Do you have a class in here?” “Yes.” “What is it?” “Art.” “Me too!” Redhead beamed, not realizing by Virgil’s blunt answers he wanted him to piss of and die. “We can be friends!” The sentence made Virgil laugh. “Friends?! I barely know you, why the Hell would I want to be friends with you?” A look of hurt flashed across Redhead’s face, making Virgil feel a little guilty. Whatever. He’d already established himself as a prick, might as well finish the job. He stood up and threw his bag on his back. “And for the record, I do not sound like a kitty. That’s just stupid.” He left Roman sitting on the stairs, watching after the purple-haired man walk into the building with his head down. Roman sighed slightly. Rough first start. He turned and noticed a paper that must have fallen out of his big black book. Picking it up, it was an incredibly detailed picture of a black cat with raven wings. The signature was a simple capital V. Roman smirked, looking back at the entrance the grouchy boy had stormed off into. He had a start to his name and a reason to talk with him again. He’d make friends with him if it’s the last thing he does

#Still Human AU #Sanders Sides #LOOK WHO REMEMBERED THE READ MORE #Thank you to pastel butterfly for showing me how to put it in

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