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ravnicaforgoblins · 3 years

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Ravnica for Goblins

One-Shots and Story Hooks

One thing Ravnica campaigns are rarely without is conflict. On a good day, somewhere between nine and ten of the Guilds will be having an issue with one another in some way, shape, or form. This is good for adventuring parties because it means there’s always something to do. While coming up with a session can literally be as simple as picking two Guilds and building off their general reasons for not liking each other (which is as easy as picking a fight on the internet), sometimes you need help. You need something to kickstart those creative ideas again.

Fortunately, the artists over at Wizards of the Coast have had over a dozen sets/releases to craft not just the main storyline of Ravnica, but unique little one-offs as well. They come with absolutely stellar artwork to help build the atmosphere of the City of Guilds, and wonderful bits of flavor text that are prime jumping-off points for your story ideas.

So here are four story hooks taken straight from Ravnica cards to incorporate into your campaign. You don’t have to follow these prompts exactly, but if they spark some ideas of your own, run with them.

Watchwolf

Ravnica can be lonely & intimidating for a Druid. With so much of the world made up of pavement and skyline, one’s connection with nature can feel like a long-distance relationship. You’d be hard-pressed to find a tree outside the Conclave without venturing into Rubblebelt territory. Furthermore, what animals do inhabit the big city have been almost unilaterally conscripted into service by one Guild or another. Azorius hawks, Boros hounds, Gruul boars, Selesnya cattle; to say nothing of the terrifying creations churned out from Guilds like the Simic, Orzhov, or Rakdos.

Even the rats seem to have loyalties.

I was browsing a Tin Street stall for watermelon seeds when I saw it. A wolf, staring right at me from a bridge nearby. I looked around but didn’t see anyone it seemed to belong to. Boros dogs wear armor, Ledev dire wolves are never without their rider, and if it was Gruul it would almost certainly have some sort of clan markings. Could it be a wild one?

Noticing my gaze, the wolf made its way over to me. It avoided the crowd with a comfort you don’t see in wild animals. This wolf definitely belonged to someone in the city.

A few of the merchants were staring at us. Even if it was trained, it was definitely making them nervous. The wolf nipped & tugged at my tunic with its mouth. Not with aggression, but with urgency. Spend enough time with animals, you learn to spot the difference. I bought my seeds, tipped the shopkeep generously, and brought the wolf to a quieter part of the city to speak with it.

Who are you?

Watcher

A watcher? Curious.

What do you need, Watcher?

Help

What help do you need?

Lost

You’re lost?

Watcher shook his muzzle.

Where’s your owner, Watcher?

Taken

Taken? Taken by whom?

Watcher told me.

A what?

Role Reversal

This was definitely one for the books. Even for the Senate, seeing a Sphinx up close is extremely rare. Seeing one at your desk filing a complaint about another Sphinx is unheard of.

“They are Uthlon the Wise. A model among their peers for stoicism, moderation, and sound judgement.”

“And you’re filing a complaint against Uthlon for....”

I checked my notebook.

“....Getting drunk and painting rude words on the temple of Azor.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll look into it.”

I expected a response. There’s always a response when people get angry enough to file a complaint. However, instead of shouting or threats, the Sphinx Agammemnos stepped back from my desk and perched down a few feet away. They were really going to wait there until I looked into this. My lunch was sitting an arm’s reach away. I sighed deeply. I hated this job sometimes.

Then, another Sphinx came in and approached my desk.

“I am here to file a complaint regarding Uthlon the Wise.”

I took my notebook back out.

“For the crime of shouting out ‘River’.”

I had to ask for that one again. Apparently, they were asking someone a riddle, as Sphinxes do, when Uthlon the Wise popped up and shouted the riddle’s answer. For that, I might seek out this Uthlon the Wise for the sole purpose of giving them a medal. No sooner had this thought crossed my mind when another Sphinx, this one rubbing their head and moving as though drunk, wandered in.

“I....am here to....file a complaint.”

“Regarding Uthlon the Wise?”

The Sphinx looked pleased. They do love when someone can guess what they’re thinking.

“Uthlon the Wise hit me over the head with a club.”

I’d just finished writing that down when more Sphinxes came strolling in. I’d never seen this many in one place, not even in Isperia’s court. Then I saw the strangest thing of all. A goblin came in, calmly walked up to my desk, and told me in the best Common I’ve ever heard from a goblin:

"My name is Uthlon the Wise.”

For the love of the Guildpact, what is going on here?

Mass Manipulation

There they are. I thought I made my instructions clear to dress the part. One way you can always spot a Dimir is by their shabby taste. They’re so concerned with being able to keep things hidden in their clothes that they can never wear anything that fits them properly. Orzhov assassins, by contrast, always dress to kill. We turn the art of killing into an actual art. And here this tit comes showing up at the finest diner in the Precinct wearing that awful trenchcoat. Ghosts, I should have hired that Ochran. At least they know not to be seen.

The only reason I’m resorting to this alley skulker is because I need the job done quickly and on the cheap. If this imbecile ruins my appetite, I’m docking the price of the meal from their pay. Then again, if I do that, I wouldn’t be paying them at all.

Seems fair to me.

“Dreadfully sorry I’m late.”

“If this is how you run your business, I may just take mine elsewhere.”

“Now, now, let’s not get hasty.”

The server came over to take our orders, but because of this idiot’s tardiness, my main course would have to wait while they ordered drinks.

“Would you like to see our wine list?”

“Water is fine, thank you.”

Ghosts, I should have hired the Rakdos. This whole day is already a loss and it’s only breakfast. Why did I ever think these fools could be trusted with something important?

The server poured water from the pitcher while I waited.

“So, what’s the job?”

“What’s the job? The job is everything! How you present yourself! How you treat your clients! How you behave in high society! How am I supposed to trust you with a contract when you can’t even show up on time for a breakfast?”

They just sat there, drinking their water. Not even the decency to look ashamed. I’m going to put a word in to the Judge for another purge, this is unacceptable. We shouldn’t have to put up with these dredges.

Finishing their water, they clinked their glass on the table.

The whole diner was suddenly quiet. Not the awkward, shocked quiet of society types pausing to listen. I’ve lived in this city for almost 70 years and I’ve never heard anything like this kind of silence. Every single person froze in their place, some halfway in the motion of eating or talking. Then, every single head turned in our direction at once.

“I was afraid it might come to this. I know you have things to do, so I’ll be brief. When I ask you for the job, I don’t need your background or history and especially not your personal take. I know how uptight you Syndicate types are about contracts & paperwork & details and all that nonsense. I just need the deed and the name of the person it’s being done to. That’s all.”

Every face stares at me with blank captivation. Not a single eye blinks. Not a single mouth draws breath. Including mine.

“But first, let’s talk about the pay. For starters, since the target is probably wealthy enough to afford protection, the rate will double. Second, since you clearly have trouble keeping your mouth shut, you’ll need to be kept under supervision until the job is done, so the rate will double again. Lastly, since the reason I was late was because I was debating whether or not to poison your drink, let’s double it again and call it a deal.”

I swallow hard. I should have never gotten involved with House Dimir.

“Seems fair to me.”

“Excellent. Now, what’s the job?”

Debtors’ Transport

This one will not be easy. This isn’t your standard smash & grab in the Bulwark where the Wojek are too busy busting Gruul skulls to chase after a gang of thieves. Everyone in the city has thought of it at least once; rob the Orzhov. The problem is, everyone knows what happens to anyone who tries; best case execution, worst case servitude. The air surrounding the Orzhov Guildhall is saturated with the ghosts of poor souls still paying off their debts to the Syndicate centuries after death. It’s not a fate you wish unto anyone, least of all yourself.

But still....the temptation is right there. An Orzhov transport, one of those big bloated ones that look like someone took a person, removed their bones, and then blew them up like a balloon. Walking right through the plaza. Every week, same time, same route, same cargo. An enormous sarcophagus filled with more coin than your average Ravnican citizen will see in a lifetime, and the moans of the latest poor soul who fell too far behind on their payments.

From the street separating the haves & have-nots of Precinct Two, around the Hall of the Guildpact in Precinct One, then a straight shot along Plaza Avenue to the Orzhova Church. Roughly one hour to walk five miles of city and deliver the cargo into the greedy hands of the Ghost Council.

They aren’t subtle about their business, but they aren’t subtle about security, either. At least four Advokists and Knights for a light haul, double that for a bigger one, and if they’re really hauling a score you can expect a trio of their fully-plated Giants as well. Not to mention the gargoyles they have perched on roofs for every single street along the route. And the transports themselves aren’t exactly known for being well-tempered when something agitates them.

But you rip off a score like that and your entire crew can afford to buy a mansion on a floating mountain.

Assuming you get away, of course. That’s always the rub. There are few things the Syndicate take more personally than being robbed. You rob a score like that, they don’t just send the Order of Sorrows after you, they send the Angels. The executors of Orzhov justice who don’t sleep, don’t stop for lunch, don’t stop for anything until they find you. At least when the Firemane kill someone it’s an exciting way to go. Better death by immolation than spending every night listening for the sound of feathered wings dropping a scythe down on you.

But if you did it right, made sure no one saw you, made sure no one could trace it back to you, it could be done. It can be done.

But who would be willing to take the risk?

#Ravnica for Goblins #Ravnica #goblins #mtg #d&d 5e #DnD #dungeons & dragons #dungeons and dragons #roleplay #story hooks #D&D #one shot #campaign

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greensleevesredlipstick · 5 years

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fake it till you make it

another random one shot//modern au. im also taking any fic requests or prompts so send em my way!! also any comments u have on my writing and ill love u forever :)

after a long (long, long) adjustment period, the queens are finally feeling like their lives in the modern world are beginning. the show has taken off, they’ve learned how to use modern technology, and they’ve begun to make peace with their pasts. well, mostly.

they all have their coping mechanisms. Aragon has been going almost daily to church, cleves has been volunteering at a local animal shelter, paper has been writing like crazy and Kat? well, Kat has Jane. Anne’s go-to when she’s feeling out of place to go clubbing. the loud music, the drinks, the people all make her forget her thoughts. thoughts of the sheer terror she felt as she struggled with the guards as they dragged her out of the palace, the way that she felt as she kneeled in front of the crowd, the instant of blinding pain she felt before it all went dark.

parr noticed that Anne was going out more and more, hardly even inviting the other women before she hurried out the door. she always came home late but parr was usually the last one up in the house. which meant that she saw the state that Anne was often in; stumbling around, sometimes even throwing up, falling into bed with her clothes and makeup on. parr helped out when she noticed her getting really bad, but Anne never remembered in the morning.

it got to the point that parr didn’t know what to do. Anne had resorted to sneaking around, waiting till the other queens had fallen asleep before going out, coming home at sunrise completely wasted. it was affecting her performance in the show; grace, one of the extras had even asked if Anne was okay because she kept bowing out at the last minute. parr didn’t want to scare Anne away, and she knew that Jane could calm down Kat when she was having a panic attack. although she felt a little guilty for telling Jane, the final straw came when Anne threw up on one of Parr’s notebooks, spoiling her work.

that evening, when Jane was brewing her nightly cup of tea, parr cornered her in the kitchen. Jane looked curiously at Catherine as she tried to figure out where to begin. she said “i-I was just wondering if you’ve noticed anything off about Anne lately.” she paused and took a breathe, and Jane replied “I don’t know...not really. she has missed a few shows lately, but I think she might just be coming down with something. she’s been looking kinda tired lately”. parr continued “that's just it-shes been tired because she's been going out drinking every. single. night”. Jane was taken aback. “I see her stumble in while the rest of you are asleep, blackout drunk every time. I don’t know what to do anymore” she crumbled for a second, leaning into Jane for support. “I'm just so worried. I try to help, but I didn’t want to expose her to everyone else. we’re all going through it in our own ways, but I’m getting scared for her”. Jane rubbed her back soothingly, at a loss for words. how could her Anne, her second daughter, be doing all this without her noticing? Parr, almost reading her thoughts, said “this isn’t your fault, she can be really sneaky when she wants. I just want the old Anne back”. the pair was at a loss for words. finally, Jane said “do you think we could just...talk to her?” Shaking her head, Parr replied “I just don’t want to upset her. she can be so stubborn sometimes and I’m scared that if she thinks we’re being too nosy, she’ll shut us out”. Jane said “Kat was like this, in the beginning. the closer I got, the more she pushed me away, until she realized that I wasn’t going anywhere. I think if we’re gentle, Anne might actually open up to us”. Parr sighed, and gave the blonde a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you”. Jane replied “don't worry, you’ll never have to find out”.

the next day, when the other queens were doing their nightly bedtime routines, parr noticed Anne hiding in her room. as Cleves and Aragon vied for room in the bathroom, parr could tell that Anne was getting ready, waiting for the rest of the queens to go to their rooms before she went out. this time, parr would be ready.

sure enough, 20 minutes later parr heard the faint clicking of stilettos on the wooden floors, and she swiftly followed. Jane right on her heels, the two of them managed to catch Anne before she left the apartment building. when parr grabbed her arm, Anne jumped a solid foot in the air. turning a deep red, she pulled away and ran out into the night. chasing quickly in their slippers, parr and Jane caught up to her and dragged her to a nearby bench. parr began “Anne, you need to tell us right now-” Jane caught her eye and shook her head. “what she means, love, is that we want to know what's been going on with you lately. why are you sneaking out? what's wrong?” Anne started “I-” then burst into tears. Jane instinctively swooped her up, pulling anne into a tight hug. parr didn't know what to do as anne started to shake, so she grabbed her hand. it took almost ten minutes before anne could catch her breathe. as she calmed down, it struck parr how young, how vulnerable anne looked. they always saw her as sassy, confident, and sometimes even a little bitchy, but there was another side to her that parr and Jane were seeing for the first time. as Jane and anne broke apart, she finally began “well... its just been... difficult since we’ve gotten back. I'm so grateful to be here with all of you but I just miss Elizabeth so much and sometimes I get scared that someones going to take me away again and then my neck starts to itch and-” ”Anne” Jane broke in gently. “breathe”. anne took a gulp of air, and parr grasped her hand again. the girl continued “I just get so scared sometimes and i...I can't breathe. I just need to get out, and so I go out and get a drink. or two. I know that I may have been overdoing it lately but really, I've got it under control. you don’t have to worry about me”. she sniffled again, and Jane’s heart broke. “love, you know that I'm always here for you. just like when kitty has her panic attacks” “- but that's just it” interrupted anne. “you’re always with kitty. and I know that she needs you, and I would never want to take you away. that's why I go out alone” she finishes sadly. parr takes both of Anne’s hands and draws them closer. “that's what you have me for”. “you're always in your room working, I would never take you away from that “ anne scoffs. parr says more firmly “anne. nothing is more important than you. nothing.” the trio is silent for a beat. a final tear escapes Anne’s eye as she wraps her arms around parr and Jane. they stay like that for a long while, until they hear shouts in the distance. Jane can just make out kitty’s voice frantically yelling “mom?!! mom?!! where are you???” they realize that while one queen missing might escape notice, half of the group will not. quickly wiping her eyes, anne grabs hold of parr’s hand as they go to meet the others. Jane explains away the adventure, claiming that Boleyn wanted some ice cream. as the six of them walk home, arm in arm, no one seems to notice that although five of them are wearing pajamas, one is in space buns and a corp top.

#six #six the musical #anne boleyn #Catherine parr #Jane seymour #Katherine howard #Anna of cleves #Catherine of aragon #six fanfic #six fanfiction #six imagine #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction

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fallen029 · 5 years

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Can I request something too? Modern high school Miraxus au. Love your stories

Class was insufferable and Laxus was all, but losing hope in ever learning the quadratic formula. He did nothing to help his cause, of course, given the fact that he certainly wasn’t paying attention and was, instead, pretty focused on something far more important. Rather than copying down any of the notes during the first half of class, he spent it filling the lines of his notebook with something far more important. In his deliberate lettering, he worked diligently at it, thoughtful and questioning on the only thing that meant something to him in his life.

Music.

Besides, Freed could teach him how to, uh, solve the, uh, what was it? Quads or something? Freed was probably a master at quads. Whatever the fuck that meant. Yeah. Formulas were his thing. Laxus did catch a warning the teacher offered right before the bell to end the period, something about a test in the coming days over the subject and, well, yeah, surely, Freed could help him.

And if not, well, fuck school anyways.

Fuck everything, anyways.

“You,” Evergreen complained as she met him in the hallway though her eyes were searching around him for someone else, “look happy today, Laxus.”

“He’s thinkin’ about fuckin’,” Bickslow offered as they’d met there, outside of his locker, as the teen fiddled around in there for something.

“What?” Ever asked with a frown as Laxus mostly ignored the two of them. They were definitely the lower tier of friends. Right now, he just needed Freed to come around, so he could drop off his calc homework and instruct the guy to call him later that night, if not come over, to teach him how to do it. Maybe.

If things went right, Laxus might have plans.

“We’re all,” Bickslow insisted, “thinkin’ ‘bout fuckin’ all the time. Except, of course, when you’re thinkin’ about eatin’. Or sleepin’. Do you think about sleepin’, do you think, Laxus, Ever, when you’re sleepin’? What are you thinkin’ about then? Nothin’? I’ve been wonderin’- Ah, here ya are, babies.”

Ever’s eyes widened at the latter half of his sentence and finally glanced in the locker. “Bickslow, what the fuck?”

“I found ‘em, see?” he remarked as he’d lifted his massive amount of junk in his locker up to reveal a sweater beneath that housed five little mice. “Babies. Their mother had been killed. Squished.”

“By what?”

“My shoe. Mice are fuckin’ disgustin’.”

“Bickslow-”

“No, Ever, I was doing a service to the world. But then I saw these little, pink, scared babies, and-”

“Where did you find them? Home? And you brought them here?”

“Ah, no, I found them down in the basement.”

“Basement of what?”

“The school.” He was really growing annoyed with her. She was so fucking dense. “I, uh, mightta found some paint cans down there if you, uh, catch my, uh, drift, yeah?”

But she didn’t care about that. Instead, she began to lecture him about taking fucking baby rodents in as pets, to which he argued they weren’t pets, they were his children now, he’d named them, so she could get fucked, and in fact, there came Elfman Strauss right then, and then Evergreen got mad and actually called Elfman over to stomp Bickslow instead and it was just a whole thing.

A whole thing that Laxus wanted nothing to do with.

Leaving them then (it was clear they needed no help in their descent into madness), he was kind of annoyed because he’d just wasted an entire minute of the short amount of time he had between classes. Not on their drivel (though that too was a waste), but rather the fact he was waiting for someone who didn’t pass by and that was shit. His time was golden.

She was in the library, which is what he figured, as he sped-walked to get there before next bell. Mirajane Strauss. She was at a table with her lame sister and her sister’s even lamer friend, Natsu. Fucking gross.

“I waited for you,” he complained as he approached the table they were seated at. “Mira.”

She smiled though, from his presence, though his looming over the table really put a damper on Natsu and Lisanna.

“We’re meeting in the library today. Did I forget that?” She only shrugged some at him. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, well- What the fuck are you doing, Dragneel?” Laxus complained then as he observed he and Lisanna, seated across from one another at the square table, both leaning forwards as she held a lighter, slight flame ablaze, as the other guy held a finger right through the middle of the round flame. “Moron.”

“I bet he couldn’t hold it there for-” Lisanna started, but Natsu finally swore, removing his finger. As Laxus glared and Mira looked on quizzically though, he just shoved his finger into his mouth before, with his other hand, moving to stick another finger through the flame. And then Lisanna started counting softly under her breath.

Fucking underclassmen.

“We’re in our first aid class, anyways,” Mira pointed out slowly. “We’re supposed to be researching for our term papers, but I guess if he burns himself bad enough, Ms. Porlyusica can have us-”

Laxus blood ran cold just from the name. “Is she in here yet? Shit. I don’t wanna see her.”

“At least you’re not in the class.” And Lisanna sent her sister a glare as Natsu, once more, had to pull his finger away in pain. “I only took it because Mira insisted to us that-”

“I thought,” her sister complained right back, “that Mr. Gildarts was teaching the class. He used to. It’s not my fault he got fired.”

“That’s right.” Natsu spit his fingers out of his mouth to glare at Laxus. “It’s yours!”

“Look, pyro, I’m really not in the mood,” the blond retorted with a glare. “I ain’t got nothin’ to do with what my grandfather does.”

“He fired him for showing up drunk, literally, everyday.” Mira’s eyes fell back to the thick medical book before her. “I really don’t think that Master Makarov had a choice.”

“That’s right, sis, sell out to your in-laws,” Lisanna retorted with a stuck out tongue.

“Gildarts deserved better,” Natsu agreed.

“You’re going to be late,” Mira warned her boyfriend instead as the guy still just stood there before the table. “And Ms. Porlyusica will, you know, eventually come to class. I guess.”

“Gildarts would have been here by now,” Lisanna insisted softly to which Natsu was quick to nod.

“I wanted to give you this.” And Laxus was pulling a folded sheet of paper from his pocket then, to hand to the oldest Strauss girl. “Mira.” He coughed then, as he passed it off, and looked off. “I thought maybe you could come over later, tonight, maybe, and we could go over it? I dunno though because Freed’s gonna freak out about calculus-”

Mira didn’t even open the paper, instead setting it down. “I’ll come over, Lax. Sometime around six, okay?”

He grinned then, easily, and she grinned and Lisanna gagged while Natsu just snatched up the lighter and held it under his palm instead.

“What,” Lisanna started as she tried to reach over and snatch the paper after the older boy rushed off, right as the bell for next period rang, “is this? Mira?”

But her sister snatched it first, holding it away from her. “None of your business.”

“I could burn it, after you read it,” Natsu offered. “If you really want to keep it secret, Mira.”

Ms. Porlyusica was entering the room then though, first to confiscate Natsu’s lighter and then to lecture them all on how little work they seemed to be doing in their research. As Lisanna and Natsu lamented their favorite lighter being gone forever (it had a super cool design on it and everything), Mirajane unfolded the paper and laid it flat against the pages of her book, to read over it without drawing much attention.

She marked her own corrections on the sheet of notebook paper, in far prettier handwriting than Laxus’ thick, block letters. It would be a long few classes though, before she saw him at lunch. She didn’t have time to sit with him either because Lucy was having a complete meltdown, again, over something really basic, Laxus grumbled, and dumb and stupid and girly and why was she just giving him the paper back? When he needed her to go over it with him?

“We can tonight,” she insisted as she rushed off, out of the cafeteria, to the girl’s bathroom, where she’d no doubt do little more than reaffirm all of Lucy’s bad behavior. Because this was all bad behavior. Laxus never did that with his friends. No. He made them better people. Smarter people.

“Uh, Laxus, I’s just wonderin’, is all, what would happen if, say, five baby mice kinda escaped my pockets and are now running freely about the cafeteria? I’m just wonderin’ though.”

Freed, who’d yet to hear about this development, hardly glanced up from his lunch tray. “That sounds like a high specific- What is crawling up my leg!”

“Oi, great! Ya found one!”

The day couldn’t end fast enough for Laxus. He still, as the only one with a car, take Freed, Ever, and Bickslow all home, but that sucked even worse because Bickslow was held after school, and Evergreen kept insisting they should let the little freak walk, but well…

So he was rushing a bit, around the house he shared with his grandfather, to pick up around the place as the clock ticked closer and closer to six. Makarov, who got home in the middle of his grandson’s meltdown over why neither of them ever vacuumed, and where did they even keep one, only snickered a bit.

“Mira coming over?”

“Shut up, gramps. And stay in your fucking room while she’s here.”

Yeah, right.

Makarov made sure to greet Mira at the door, just to get under the teen’s skin, but he also had better things to do than ruin his grandson’s life for the night.

“Keep the door open,” he snickered as Laxus led Mira to his room and that got a finger from the boy, but Makarov was already laughing into a beer can. “Before you end up like your father. Can’t raise another kid, I can’t.”

Mirajane’s cheeks were all red when they got in there, but Laxus only slammed the door heavily behind him.

“He’s a fucking creep,” he growled at the closed door, but she was already focusing on slipping her guitar case off her back.

“Anyways,” she began as she pulled an acoustic from the case, “did you read over the corrections I made? To your lyrics? I think it flows better, that way, Laxus.”

But he was too busy glaring to care much for her words. Still, when he fell down onto the floor, before his bed, she only moved to join him, guitar in her lap.

“You’re,” he grumbled softly as he pulled the folded sheet of paper from his pocket, to set it on the ground, at their sides, so she could glance over it, “the artist.”

“Hardly.” And she giggled some. “I really like your writing. Your structure or whatever, I guess? I’m not really technical.”

“Neither am I.”

“But you’re poetic.”

“Shuddup.”

“I’m not teasing you, dragon,” she insisted and he liked when she called him that. She started about a week after he first asked her out, because they went to the carnival that was in town and he won her this really big, bright, yellow dragon from those fucking trick games that they have. It made him feel special, to have a nickname. One so personal, just to her. “I really think you are.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head back, to glare up at the ceiling. “You can’t stay long, right?”

She never could. She had to get home and cook for her brother and sister. Their parents were gone, constantly, away on business, and as the oldest, she was needed to retain order.

“No,” she sighed as she took to testing each string, tuning them. “I can’t.”

“Then you should start tryin’, uh, chords or whatever it is that you do. How does it even work? So I wrote you something and now you’ll sing it and, what? Just see what sounds good?”

“Trial and error.” But she was nodding then, over to his desk in the corner. “While I do this though, you need to go over there and start looking over your pre-cal.”

“What?”

“Freed came up to me during gym class and said that you-”

“Fuckin’ turncoat.”

“If you flunk that class, Laxus, you can’t-”

“I fuckin’ know what I-”

“Do it.”

And she had a look about her, when she was annoyed. A dark one. It helped, he figured, when dealing with unruly younger siblings.

Still, he rose to his feet and sulked over to the desk. There were grumbles, of course, but those faded as she began to strum at her guitar and hum, softly, under her breath at first, trying to figure something, it seemed, and he grumbled again that it sounded better the way he wrote it, but Mira only strummed louder, and, well, he was probably still going to flunk, but he’d at least read over the chapter in the text book. It would have helped, of course, to have notes, but then he wouldn’t have been able to bullshit some words on a sheet of paper and con his girlfriend into coming over with it.

So really, who was really losing out?

Him on his education, fine, but once Mira started singing somewhere other than just the stupid school dances, who would be laughing then?

Probably not him, still, because he’d still be flunking.

Man, the more he thought about it, maybe he should actually start trying in class…

Or just bank on his girlfriend eventually making it big and taking care of him for the rest of forever.

He would, after all, have to be credited as her songwriter. Way more important than calc.

And when he eventually abandoned his work completely and she gave up on her guitar, and they were all alone, there, together, on the floor, well, fuck school and making it big and every other dumb thing that tried to drown out the usual thing that occupied his thoughts.

“Fuck,” he complained against Mira’s lips when he heard his grandfather pass by, whistling a loud tune, down the hallway.

But Mirajane only giggled up at him and her eyes were so blue and nice and pretty and he wasn’t that poetic at all. That’s probably why she completely changed every fucking thing in the lyrics he’d given her.

He was never going to be accredited…

It was true though. Her eyes were all those things. And maybe that wasn’t deep or interesting and yeah, he probably was going to fail his test at least, but man, if that moment didn’t make it worth it.

“You’re really, uh, pretty, Mira,” he muttered softly as she moved back from him then, because it was late and she had to get home soon, to make sure her siblings ate.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I am.”

“Mira-”

“Did you want me to say you’re pretty too, Laxus? You have pretty hair.”

“Shuddup.”

“You can come over tomorrow.” She was moving to pack up her guitar. “To my house.”

“Hard pass.”

“My parents will be back then, from their business trip, and-”

“Bigger pass.”

“You’re coming.”

He was.

“I’ll work more on the song too, for you,” she was going on as she was leaving and he rose, to walk her to door. “Dragon.”

He could feel a pit in his stomach rising, just from the thought of being around her father and mother again (they were more than a bit harsh), not to mention her brother and sister, but still managed his usual cocky grin.

“Can’t,” he said as he led her out of the room, “wait.”

#Miraxus #Request #High School AU

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camwritesbooks · 6 years

Text

Fictober Day #5: “Take what you need.”

OC: Eve (POV) - Deus

Word count: 1084

About: So this basically turned into the first half of the first chapter of Deus? Oh well, I’ll take it. Meet Eve, the Terran healer gifted with magic powers. And welcome to Melford! totally not based on my home city melbourne whoops

Eve stepped into the light of the streetlamp, brushing her pale hair out of her face and gazing out into the darkness. At the end of the street she saw the warm glow of the night market, alive and bustling with people despite the late hour. It was a strange flicker of life in a quiet, sleeping city. She felt its inviting light drawing her in, but doubt kept her back. Even in the peaceful market, there could be people looking to cause trouble.

“‘Ey, love!” called a drunk man from across the street. “Fancy a drink?”

I swear to Deus, can’t I get a moment of peace? “Not likely!” she replied over her shoulder, heading down the street towards the market. Thanks for making my mind up for me. She pulled her hood up as she walked, covering her silvery-grey hair beneath her cloak. It made her stick out too much, and tonight she especially wanted to fly under the radar. For years she’d considered changing her hair colour, but hadn’t really ever mustered up the courage to dye it. It was too much of her to get rid of, even temporarily.

The market was filled with sellers, tourists and intoxicated young men waving their arms around like they thought they were professional dancers. She wound her way through the crowds of people, avoiding eye contact.

“Good evening,” she said politely, stopping at a falafel stand. “Could I have three please?”

“‘Course, dear,” the woman behind the stand replied in a slight accent, smiling. She passed over three of the falafels, wrapped in paper. “Three specks.”

Eve passed over the bronze coins with a quick thanks, biting into the food gratefully. Yep, right choice, this was worth it. The food in Melford was its best feature, really. There was no one true cuisine on the small island because everyone there had come from somewhere else.

The apothecary stall was her next target. One of her usual haunts - the small store was rarely busy and less hostile towards her. It was a place where she could actually speak openly about her job and sometimes talk to other fey, if they were around.

A sharp hiss to her right drew her attention and she saw a young man jump back from the grill he was working at, clutching his hand. Eve felt the urge to reach out and use her gift to help him. If this wasn’t such a public place, she would. But you could never tell how someone would react to healing. Most were grateful and considered it a bit of a miracle, but some could be afraid or angry. Unless they bore a mark of a magic school or group, it wasn’t safe.

Strangely, Crell wasn’t at his stall. The apothecary was presided over by a twenty-something-year-old man, who was busy drawing in a notebook.

“Hey,” she greeted, removing her hood. Her long silver hair fell into her face, and she brushed it out of the way. She really should cut it.

The man looked up from his work, eyes widening. “Faerie,” he murmured softly, catching sight of her hair and the symbol of her pendant, which had come free from her dress. He looked terrified. “Just uh, take what you need,” he said, gesturing at the wares on the table before him.

Oh Deus. “I’m not a faerie,” Eve said lightly, “I’m fey. And I don’t steal.”

The man opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by someone coming out from behind the drapes at the back of the stall. Crell, thank Deus.

“Ry, what’s going on here?” Crell asked. “Ah, Eve, I’m glad to see you.”

The young man glanced up at the older one, looking slightly bewildered. “Oh, sorry Unc. I didn’t realise you knew her.” He grabbed his notebook and pencil, leaving his post with a confused look at Crell.

“Give you much trouble?” Crell asked, setting down a pack of glass bottles and starting to unpack them.

“Oh no, he’s just rather misinformed,” she said. “Your nephew, I take it?”

Crell nodded. “My sister’s boy Ry. It’s his first night, it’s taking a bit of getting used to. How are you going.”

“Well, you know,” she said around a mouthful of falafel, “it’s alright, I guess. We’re doing well at the hospital. I’ve been feeling okay the past few weeks.”

“That’s good to hear.”

She glanced at the bench, unsure whether she should bring up the reason she was actually here tonight. But Crell knew a lot of fey, so maybe he would have the answers. “Something’s coming, right? We had a patient - another fey - yesterday, who just came from the Eastern Continents. And they were saying how the faeries there were talking about trouble that wasn’t to do with humans or anything, but old magic. I was just wondering if you’ve heard anything about that?”

Crell grimaced. “I heard some chatter, yeah. They reckon it’s to do with whatever went down a few years ago up north, when the passage across the mountains opened up.”

“Hmm.” Eve pretended to browse some of the items on sale.

“You looking for anything?”

Eve glanced up at Crell. “Uh, I’ll take some burn serum, if you’ve got any.”

Crell nodded and went back behind the drapes to find the serum, leaving Eve standing there alone. No one else seemed to be at the stall today, which was a bit unusual. Some other people who looked possibly fey hung around at the end of that row of stands, but she didn’t really feel like approaching them, honestly.

The sound of yelling and police whistles filled the air, coming from the north. The main square, maybe? Eve bit her lip, trying to see through the cramped market to the square. Something was going on.

“Hey, Crell,” she called into the space behind the stall, but he didn’t reply.

She looked back towards the sounds. All of her instincts were telling her to go towards the commotion in case somebody was hurt. Why do I always run head first into danger? She stood there for another few seconds, hoping that maybe it would all die down and she could take her serum and go home. Unfortunately the screaming continued, and Eve knew she was about to do something possibly quite stupid. But everything in her was screaming go, that’s where you’re supposed to be, and Eve new from experience that her instincts were often right.

#fictober18 #mybookisbadfictober18 #eve #deus wip #excerpts #my writing

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yourewelcomeforbeingmyfriend · 6 years

Text

Dear Friend - Part 3

Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean meets a girl on a new hunter website and begins an online romance. The only problem is, they don’t know who the other person is. Could their love for one another last only in the confines of the computer screen or will their desire for something more lead them to finally meet?

Warnings: Language. A bit more of a slow burn

A/N: This is part 3 of my little series based on “You’ve Got Mail” and “She Loves Me.” I hope you guys are enjoying it as much as I am. A big thank you to the wonderful @hannahindie for betaing this for me. I’d love to know what y’all think of this, so please feel free to let me know. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Y/N, what are you thinking about?” the young woman named Christina laughed and waved a hand in front of her friend’s face to try to pull her from her trance.

Y/N gave a laugh of her own and shook her head. “Nothing. Just turkey sandwiches with lettuce and tomato.”

“Turkey sandwiches with…” Christina’s words trailed off as she continued eyeing her friend. “You’re a strange bird sometimes Y/N/N. Anyways, thanks for your help with this hunt.” She lifted her beer bottle for a toast.

Y/N lifted hers and clinked the necks. “Anytime, girl. Besides, you know I love a good werewolf hunt.” She gave an innocent wink.

“What’s on your mind that’s got you so distant? And don’t tell me it’s just sandwiches. I mean, they’re great and all, but not that great.”

Y/N gave a sigh and set her bottle down in front of her. She took a moment to fiddle with its placement as she thought about what she was going to say. “Have you heard of that new hunter website?” her friend nodded. “Well, I go on there from time to time and I sort of met someone on there. A guy,” she clarified.

“Oh really now? What’s his name? I’m sure I’ve heard of him.” Christina knew all sorts of hunters, both socially and biblically. She took no shame in it.

“That’s the thing, I don’t know his name.” Christina started to give a look but Y/N continued anyway. “I said I didn’t want to know names. Keep a sort of mystery about things. I thought it was just playful and harmless until we started talking more. Now I want to know his name because he’s a really nice guy, but I feel like I can’t turn back on my rule. He could be anyone.” She picked a little at the label on her beer.

“It could be Garth,” Christina said with a laugh, to which Y/N threw her bottle cap in response.

Later that night Y/N sat at her computer biting her nail as she waited for her favorite website to load. She held her breath as she waited to see if there was a little number hanging above the envelope icon. Sadly there was nothing. It had only been a day since she last wrote to BabyDriver67, so she wasn’t very disappointed. But still part of her was disappointed there was nothing new to read. She looked away from the computer screen and to the photo of her and her niece sitting framed on her desk. She thought for a moment of the cute little girl, then turned back to the computer to click on “New Message.”

I sometimes wonder about my place in this world. Does that make any sense? Like how there are people sleeping right now who have no idea of what we do for a living, and probably never will. They just live their lives going to work or school and go along their merry way. I feel like I can’t remember a time before I heard of werewolves and ghouls and all those other things that go bump in the night. What a strange life I lead. I’m not really looking for an answer on this. I went out tonight with a friend and had a little too much to drink, I think. I like to throw questions into the Void when I’m drunk. Goodnight, dear Void.

“Goodnight, dear Void.” The words glowed from Dean’s computer screen. He was falling more and more in love with her with each new message. But his heart also ached for her. He knew that even drunk words had a bit of truth to them, so somewhere deep down she was feeling this insignificance. If only he could meet her and tell her she was’t insignificant. Not to him.

“Hey, I think I found a haunting in Texas,” Sam said as he joined his brother in the library.

Dean shook himself from his thoughts and looked up from his laptop. “Texas, huh?”

“Yeah, a hotel in Galveston.”

Dean frowned in thought. “Well, I have been wanting to see the beach lately.” Sam only then seemed to take notice of what his brother was doing. “Any new messages from her?” he hammed up the question a little to Dean’s annoyance.

“Bite me,” was all Dean could think to say as he closed the laptop and got up. “We’ll leave in twenty!” he shouted as he walked down the hall towards his room.

The case, on paper, was fairly run of the mill by Winchester standards. The hotel had long had legends of being haunted – harmless cold spots and creaks in the night – but now guests and staff were getting seriously injured. It was only a matter of time before it escalated to someone’s death.

HellsBelle25 was still on Dean’s mind as they checked into their room at the hotel. He was so deep in thought he didn’t even hear what Sam was saying to him. He was brought back to reality with a pillow hitting his face.

“Dean?” Sam scoffed from his seat on the bed. “You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”

Dean threw the pillow back at his brother as a reply. “I’m going to go talk to some locals. How ‘bout you get to work on the research. We’ll meet back up again later tonight to do some poking around.”

He put on his cheap suit and grabbed his FBI badge as he headed out the door. Up the street he saw a sign for a seafood restaurant, which gave him a sudden craving for shrimp. When he walked through the door, he was greeted with the usual nautical scene that came with beachfront locales. He made his way to an empty booth and took a seat.

“What can I do for ya?” the waitress, identified by a name tag as Judy, asked. She was an older woman who seemed to have seen her share of sailors and tourists pass through town. She looked like she would have her finger on the pulse of what was going on at the hotel.

Dean ordered the shrimp and introduced himself as Agent Tyler. “I’m here looking into all the nonsense happening over at the hotel.”

Judy twisted her face into a frown as she looked over his badge. “That hotel sure is drawing a lot of attention. First that reporter and now the FBI. What’s next, Secret Service?”

That caught Dean’s attention. “Reporter?”

“Yeah, she’s sitting over there.” She pointed her pen towards a booth a little ways down from Dean’s. All he could see was the top of a ponytail that popped out from a downturned head.

Dean nodded his thanks at Judy as she walked back to put in his order. He slid out of the booth and made his way over to the young woman. He found her hunched over a notebook scribbling away in a purposeful manner. “Excuse me,” he cleared his throat.

The woman looked up from her work but kept writing as she slowly began to comprehend who was speaking to her. A half second too late, it seemed, she gave a warm smile. “Hello.”

“I’m, uh, Agent Tyler,” he flashed his badge again. “I hear you’re a reporter here to look into the hotel?”

She kept her eyes on his badge for a few seconds. “Uh, yes, I am.” She set her pen on top of her notebook. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” She held out her hand.

Dean took it in his and gave a shake, impressed by the firmness of it. He stood in silence for a beat longer. “Do you mind if I join you for a moment?” he finally asked.

“Not at all, please,” she motioned for the seat opposite her and he took it. She brushed her Y/H/C hair away from her face, “How can I help you, Agent Tyler?”

“Well, how about you fill me in on what you’ve found out so far about the hotel?”

She eyed him for a moment as if searching for something. She must not have found it, or maybe she did, because she shrugged and began to share what she knew. “The hotel used to be an orphanage, back around the time of the hurricane. Kids from the city and even as far as Houston would be bussed in to live there. Guests and staff have talked about hearing things or feeling cold spots for years. Basic urban legend stuff. But over the past few weeks, people have been getting hurt. Staff members and guests with slashes and knife wounds on the arms and chest. Really interesting escalation.”

Dean jotted down notes in his notebook and nodded, “Anything else?”

“Well, I’m still working on it,” her eyes narrowed on him. “So what brings the FBI out here?”

“We go where the weird goes, and this is weird.”

“Maybe I should start calling you agent Mulder instead,” she said with a lift of her eyebrows.

Dean laughed off the idea and thanked Y/N for her time, returning back to his booth and his shrimp.

“There’s an attractive reporter here looking into the case,” Dean casually mentioned back at the hotel later that evening as he swept the EMF reader in front of him. The device chirped and flashed red. “There’s definitely some ghosts here, too.”

“Leave it to you to find an attractive reporter while doing recon,” Sam sighed. “And what about mystery girl?” He poked his brother’s side with the flashlight.

“Oh come off it, man.”

They made their way down to the ballroom floor. All was still and quiet, the guests having gone to bed long ago. Dean’s EMF reader chirped back to life as the lights in the hall flickered. The brothers noticed their breath fog up in the cold air.

Suddenly they heard a thump coming from the ballroom ahead of them. They ran over to fling open the doors and found a familiar Y/H/C young woman shooting a sawed-off shotgun into the ghost of a young child.

“Fuck!” she cursed under her breath.

“Y/N?” Dean asked incredulously.

The young woman swung her head around to the brothers and her brows knit together. “Agent Tyler?”

Before Dean could answer, the child reappeared behind Y/N and made his way quickly towards her. He held a knife and flashed a menacing smile. “Hey! Behind you!” Dean yelled as he shot his own shotgun at it again and it disappeared once more. He walked over to her and poured a circle of salt around her. “Reporter, huh?” He gave her a long look.

“Agent, huh?” she returned the look. “Who are you guys, anyways? And why are you invading my turf?”

Sam walked over and joined them. “I’m Sam Winchester, and this –” he pointed to his brother – “is my brother, Dean.”

“The Winchesters?” Y/N scoffed.

“Your turf?” Dean scoffed back.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yes, my turf. I’m from Texas and this is a job in Texas. You’re invading my turf. Since when do you guys travel south of Oklahoma?” She stepped over the line of salt and walked towards the doors, her gun falling to her side, “I can handle this myself.”

“Maybe we can help you,” Sam called after her. She turned to look back at him and he shrank a little under her glare. “It, uh… it would go faster,” he added.

She rolled her eyes at them, “Fine. We’re looking for a teddy bear. It’s somewhere in the basement, I’m pretty sure.”

“How do you know?” Dean asked.

“Because I’ve been here for a week and I’ve done my research.”

They made their way down to the basement. Every question Dean had for Y/N was met with curt responses; she seemed inconvenienced to be with them. When they got to the basement, they found it filled wall to wall with boxes. One of them contained the teddy bear they were looking for.

“I guess we just pick a box and get started,” Sam shrugged.

The three split up taking different sections. After about a half hour of searching, Dean was becoming irritated.

“Find anything yet?” he asked.

Y/N gave a loud huff. “No, Dean. I think I would’ve said something if I had.”

Dean stood up from the box he was searching. “You know what, Y/N, what’s your problem?”

She looked up at him. “You are, Dean Winchester.” Dean was taken aback, but she pressed on, “You think you’re God’s gift to hunters. Swooping in and saving the day for a frail little hunter like me.” Her last sentence was dripping with sarcasm.

Dean gave a wry laugh and licked his lips. “Me? God’s gift? Yeah, you’re right, sweetheart. Abso-fucking-lutely. We came all the way down to the fucking coast to help some inconsequential hunter I’ve never heard of with a simple haunting because she’s too weak but full of herself to handle it on her own. Woe is me, because this girl is going to come in and steal my thunder.” His words dripped with disdain. “Get over yourself,” he scoffed.

Y/N stopped rummaging through the box in front of her and stared at Dean in shock. She was at a loss for words.

The room grew cold again and the ghost appeared in front of Sam. It slowly made its way towards him, still brandishing the knife and a menacing smile. “Uh, guys? Can you hurry up with the search?” he swiped his iron pipe at the ghost and it dissolved once more.

“We’re working on it!” Dean yelled over to him as he turned back to his search. Y/N still stood dumbstruck for a few seconds more before shaking herself back into action. She finished searching the box in front of her before moving on to a trunk in the corner. It was old and worn, and seemed like a good bet.

“Guys?” Sam questioned. The ghost was back and getting closer than before. It seemed to grow stronger and more deliberate each time he appeared.

Y/N and Dean continued rifling through their boxes and trunks. Her hand brushed against something fuzzy and she grabbed the paw of a tattered old teddy bear. She clumsily pulled out her phone to double check the picture she had and confirmed it was the one they had been searching for. “Got it!” she exclaimed.

Dean stood up and joined her in an open space of floor. She dropped the bear to the ground and poured salt and lighter fluid over it. She looked up at Dean as he flicked open his Zippo and dropped it on the bear. They turned to look in Sam’s direction as the ghost began to catch fire and burn into nothing once more.

“Aren’t you glad you had our help?” Dean cockily asked Y/N.

“So glad,” she bit back with a roll of her eyes.

The next morning the brothers caught sight of Y/N as she was packing up her car.

“Heading out?” Sam asked as he walked over to her. Dean reluctantly followed behind.

She closed the trunk and squinted up at him. “Yeah,” she shrugged, “the ghost is gone, and I’m not really one for the beach.”

Sam gave a weak chuckle. “Yeah, we never get to see it, so we thought we’d stick around for a little bit.”

“Thanks for your help, Sam,” she reached out to shake his hand. “Dean,” she turned to shake his.

He looked at it for a moment before taking it. Once again, he was impressed with the firmness of it.

“No offense, but I hope I never see you again,” she said.

“Likewise,” was all he managed to say in return.

Tags: @pinknerdpanda @hannahindie @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @trexrambling @narisjournal-blog @jensen-jarpad @notnaturalanahi @simplydaisys @keepcalmandcarryondean @mrswhozeewhatsis @katymacsupernatural @boxywrites @ellen-reincarnated1967 @ravengirl94 @amanda-teaches @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @masksandtruths @just-another-busy-fangirl @sis-tafics @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @not-so-natural-spn @feelmyroarrrr @sherlock44 @jobean12-blog @diariesofthebeautyobsessed @akshi8278 @wonderstruckbyfandoms @wildfirewinchester @mogaruke @whimsicalrobots @winchesternco

#spn fanfic #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #dean winchester fanfiction #stuff i wrote

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dracoandluna · 7 years

Text

Prompt: Based off of Taylor Swift's song and music video, "You Belong With Me". Modern AU. (This takes place in America so don't hate me that they don't use British slang!)

Draco heaved a great sigh before collapsing onto his bed. He lay there for a few moments, just letting the stress of the day melt off of him and into the depths of his mattress.

He hadn’t heard back from Hogwarts yet, his dream school, he was pretty sure he had just bombed that AP Calc test (it made no difference to Lucius that Draco was in BC, not AB), his team had lost their last football game, nearly disqualifying them from the regional championship, and his girlfriend (emphasis on girl, vague connotation on friend) was being a complete bitch (though he supposed that was nothing new, he just wasn’t used to it being directed at him).

After lying down for a few moments did nothing to relax him, Draco grudgingly got up and ran a hand through his hair, thoroughly messing it up. On almost instinct, Draco glanced over to the left and saw that Luna was in her bedroom too, lying on her stomach on her bed, writing or drawing in a tattered journal.

Draco had lived in entire life in this house, and Luna, his neighbor, had also lived her entire life in the house right next to his. His childhood was filled with memories of playing outside with her in the summer, and being holed up together inside during the winter. As a boy, he had seen Luna something akin to a sister, though even at the age of seven Draco had easily concluded that she was far too barmy to share any blood with him.

He couldn’t help but smile as he recalled the time he and Luna had entered the local soap box derby at age nine and had won against a bunch of teenagers because Luna had brought along a fire extinguisher as an extra boost of speed. Luna was weird, but she was undeniably a genius.

He must have been staring at her the entire time while he was reminiscing, because she looked up at him and waved, before quickly scribbling something in her journal.

Holding the book up, Draco read the message she had written to him.

Congratulations on your game yesterday

Draco scowled at her, and she kept smiling her dreamy smile at him. Had it been anyone else who had said that it would have been a slight, but after knowing Luna for 18 years, he knew she somehow meant it.

Grabbing a notebook from his desk, he hastily wrote:

What are you going on about? We LOST

She had the decency to look surprised, at least.

How is that a bad thing? Failures always impart valuable lessons, wins don’t

Rolling his eyes, he simply waved her off before sliding his curtains close.

“I feel so bad for you, Draco,” Pansy laughed, staring at something over his shoulder.

Frowning, Draco looked behind him to see what she was talking about. There sat Luna, alone, wearing the ugliest pair of sunglasses he had ever seen, while calmly looking around the bustling cafeteria.

“I have no idea how you put up living right next to her,” Pansy continued. “You should have gotten your father to evict the Lovegood’s years ago.”

“Then who would he go to when you’re not around?” Blaise said smugly, looking at Draco challengingly.

“You’re disgusting,” Draco said to Blaise, unsure if he was mad that Pansy was making fun of Luna (didn’t he do that all the time?) or at what Blaise had insinuated. He didn’t know how he had found out about his friendship with Luna, since he went to great lengths to keep it hidden, but Blaise never passed up the opportunity to bring it up against him.

Pansy, who had gone red from chagrin, clutched at his forearm with what he guessed was supposed to be a romantic gesture, but was frankly kinda painful.

“That’s not true, right, Draco?” she asked, her voice starting to take on that shrill octave.

Vincent and Greg looked at him expectantly, as if waiting to see if they could make fun of Luna or not.

“Of course it’s not true,” Draco answered coolly.

Draco lost his appetite, and listened on silently as Greg and Vincent began to harp on Luna. When Pansy rested her head on his shoulder, Draco stared at the table and wondered what lesson was to be learned from this failure.

This was the last party Draco would attend until the semester was over; he wanted to end the grading quarter strong, and reasoned that homecoming was just two weeks away, he could last two weekends without beer and sex.

Some shithead (he couldn’t even remember who’s house this was) decided to play French dubstep instead of regular fucking dubstep, and the beer was grossly warm.

Pansy and Daphne were passed out on each other on a couch, and Draco felt a flash of irritation since it looked as if he wasn’t getting a lay tonight- from either girl.

“Who spat in your cup?” Blaise shouted to him over the sound of the God-awful music.

“Your mom,” Draco replied, not sober enough to feel ashamed at how lame that comeback was, but too drunk to come up with a better one.

“My mom is dead!” Theodore yelled, his eyes glassy but a large smile on his face. Theo always became weirdly emotional drunk.

“Whatever, Greg got some weed, are you gonna spark up?” Blaise asked, swaying unevenly to the beat as Theo leaned heavily onto him.

Suddenly the entire atmosphere of the party seemed disgusting to Draco, and he wanted nothing more than to leave. The feeling of being alone while surrounded by people was disconcerting, to say the least.

So that’s what he did. Ignoring Blaise and Theo’s confused shouts, Draco stumbled out of the house, and realized too late that Vincent had been his ride (Lucius had taken away his car for bombing that calc test).

Too stubborn to go inside and find that undoubtedly drunk moron, Draco pulled up the collar of his jacket and began to make his slow trek home.

The weather was frighteningly cold, and Draco soon began to lose feeling in his fingers- his toes had long gone.

He glanced up at a street sign and realized with a sinking feeling that he didn’t even know where he was, much less how to get back to his home- or even the house he had just been at.

Pulling out his phone from the pocket of his jeans he cursed through chattering teeth when he found that it was dead.

Did all my karma have to accumulate into one night? Draco thought viciously as he nearly tripped over a section of uneven pavement.

Beep beep!

Startled, Draco looked over to the street to see a car had pulled up. A yellow Volkswagen Bug to be exact. Luna’s car to be even more exact.

Hesitantly making his way towards the car, Draco nearly cried in relief when the window rolled down to reveal Luna’s honey blonde head.

“Hello Draco!” she greeted cheerfully. “Are you also out looking for the shelia bird?”

“Luna,” he slurred. “Can you get me home?”

Her large eyes widened in understanding and she nodded her head yes.

The warmth of her car felt like a kiss from an angel on his nearly frostbitten skin, and he had never been more comfortable in his life, though her car was so small that his long legs were folded uncomfortably to fit them.

She seemed to sense his need for silence, because she said nothing to him, and only hummed quietly to herself.

Draco had nearly fallen asleep in his seat when suddenly he had to ask her a pressing question.

“Would you date Theodore Nott?” he asked, looking as carefully as he could into her face.

They were at a red light, and her face was bathed in the red color when she turned to look at him, the lighting making her look older than she actually was.

“If I loved him, why wouldn’t I?” Luna asked curiously, tilting her head to the side.

Draco suddenly felt very very foolish.

“Is just…his mom is dead too,” he said, trying and failing to show the reasoning behind his inquiry.

“I know,” was all she said. “We were once in group therapy together, he’s rather nice.”

Draco didn’t know this, and suddenly and irrationally, he was angry. Why didn’t she tell him she was in therapy? Why didn’t he ever even realize she needed therapy?

“I’m nice!” he exclaimed, waving his hands wildly.

“Are you?” she asked in a voice that didn’t imply that she didn’t agree, but in one that called for actual self-evaluation

He ducked his head like a reprimanded child.

“Sometimes I say things so I can keep looking cool,” he admitted.

“But I don’t think you’re a loon!” he said desperately, reaching over to grab her one hand that rested on top of the transmission. He wished he was more sober so he could appreciate how her hand felt under his. “I just want Pansy off my back! I want you to be my friend!”

He hadn’t even realized they had pulled into his driveway until she turned off her car.

She looked at him sadly.

“I am your friend, Draco,” Luna said softly. “But maybe you should question why you’re with someone who you don’t want to be with.”

Draco had no response.

For the next two weeks, Draco ignored Luna almost religiously. He had wanted to die of mortification when he had woken up the next day after his emotional outburst. He also fought with Pansy nearly every day, and every time they made up and made out, Draco wondered if a pair of tits in his hands were worth the emotional baggage that came with them.

He spoke with Theo more, and learned that Theodore was a really good listener. He wondered if that was what made Luna think of him so highly.

Nah, Theo was a scrawny wimp who had nothing better to say, which was why he just shut upped and listened, Draco concluded, thus making him much nicer to be around.

It was a gray Wednesday afternoon when he and his team congregated in the locker room, with Coach Hooch outside waiting for them.

He was pulling on his jersey when Harry said, “Guess who I’m going to homecoming with?”

“Ginny?” Draco guessed, sending a haughty look at Ron.

“Uh, no,” Harry said awkwardly.

“Damn right…” Ron grumbled which made Draco grin even more.

“No, I’m going with Luna!” Harry said, earning an eye roll from Ron.

Draco stopped grinning.

It was Thursday night, the night before Homecoming, and Draco was in his room, trying and failing to finish his AP gov essay on congressional hearings. His curtains were drawn completely.

After staring at the same sentence he had been stuck on for half an hour, he ripped open his curtains to find Luna also at her desk, diligently working away. Tapping his window with a knuckle, the sound managed to grab Luna’s attention, who looked up and gave him a smile, as if he hadn’t been avoiding her for weeks.

Deciding not to waste any more time, he whipped open a notebook and scribbled:

Why are you going with Harry?

Luna on her part showed no reaction to his question, to which Draco was almost grateful for; the entire prospect was humiliating enough.

Because he’s my friend

Draco sank back into his chair at her reply, his chest suddenly feeling lighter. But it seemed that Luna was not done, because she held up another page.

Why are you going with Pansy?

Truthfully, he hadn’t even asked Pansy to homecoming, it had just been assumed. Suddenly, he didn’t even know if he wanted to go with her.

But Draco was stubborn and prideful, and he was done looking foolish in front of Luna, so he wrote back:

Because I love her.

He didn’t give any time for Luna to respond before he almost violently drew his curtains.

He stared at the piece of paper for an hour, before crossing out her, and adding you. This time, his actions were completely violent when he crumpled the paper and threw it across his room.

For the briefest of moments, Draco thought he had died.

He had been mercilessly tackled onto the ground, and the very air from his lungs had been completely expelled, leaving them unable to refill themselves.

As his body struggled to get his lungs inflated once more, he was dimly aware of a thundering roar of cheers: someone had scored a touchdown.

When he could finally breathe again, he weakly pushed himself up, only to see Longbottom and Pansy in the middle of the field, passionately kissing.

“Draco, I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal about this,” Pansy complained. “I’m cheer captain, it just makes sense that I congratulate the guy who scored the winning touchdown!”

“You’re right, I am making a big deal,” Draco said agreeably. “So let’s just break up.”

Pansy’s expression then shifted, and for a moment, under the glittering lights and colored shadows, she looked truly evil

“You can’t break up with me!” she seethed, nostrils flaring like a bull.

“I just did,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

“You listen here-“

“I don’t care!” Draco shouted, finally reaching the end of patience. This seemed to silence Pansy; he had never raised his voice at her before, it wasn’t how he was raised to treat ladies. But Pansy wasn’t a lady, she was shallow and mean spirited. She made him shallow and mean spirited. He didn’t want to be like that anymore. He wanted to go back to when he was younger and he didn’t care what his friends and father thought, he just lived.

Turning away from her and briskly walking away, he passed Blaise who was grinding his date, Theo who seemed to have found a voice and was chatting up a redhead that holy shit was Ron’s sister! Not wanting to be in the same vicinity of an angry Ron, Draco went over to Neville and his date Hannah.

Neville looked apologetic immediately upon seeing him.

“Hey man, I’m really sorry about that thing with Pansy, I swear she wouldn’t get off of me!” Neville apologized profusely looking between him and a ticked off Hannah pleadingly.

“It’s fine,” Draco dismissed. “Do you know where Harry is?”

“Poor guy is by the drinks,” Neville told him sadly.

“Poor guy?” Draco repeated.

“Luna ditched him,” Hannah said, looking as if she didn’t quite believe what she said herself.

Not bothering to say goodbye, Draco quickly went over to where Harry was, needing to hear the confirmation of this rumor from the source.

“Hey,” Draco greeted his dark-haired friend, who looked quite lonely by the drinks.

“I messed up, Draco,” Harry wailed, clutching his forehead with his hand.

“What happened?” Draco demanded, his pulse quickening with dread.

“I love Ginny!” Harry exclaimed. “How could I have let her slip from my fingers?”

Draco stared at him incredulously.

Harry noticed this after a few moments. “What?” he asked self-consciously.

“Where the hell is your date, Luna?” Draco snarled, inches away from strangling him.

“Oh, Luna left to get something, said she’d be right back,” Harry answered distractedly, watching Theo and Ginny with mournful eyes, with a seething Ron in the background.

Something in his gut told him to look to his left, which he did. There standing at the entryway was Miss. Know it All Granger and Luna.

Draco’s mouth fell open at the sight of Luna. She looked…breathtakingly gorgeous. In her silver gown and necklace, she looked like a celestial deity. Granger said something to her and patted her arm encouragingly when Luna caught his eye and waved, before walking (though it looked more like floating) towards him.

Without telling them to, his legs carried him over to where she stood, the loud noises of the dance melting away, and the heat of multiple bodies in a small space turning into the heat of a rapidly beating heart.

“Hello Draco,” she greeted once he finally reached her.

“Luna,” he said, throat dry as he shamelessly drank in the sight of her, undoubtedly she was the prettiest girl in attendance, but truthfully, this was not the most beautiful he had ever seen her. No, that was when they had stargazed all night, or had a flour fight when baking, or building a snow fort: all these years, Luna had shown to him over and over again, that her beauty shone both inside and out, and he wanted to kick himself for only realizing that now.

“Why aren’t you with Pansy?” Luna asked, tilting her head.

Swallowing hard, Draco pulled out the incredibly crumpled and partially torn piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

Because I love her you

Luna smiled, and revealed that she held a folded piece of paper in her palm as well. Unfolding it, she held it up to him.

I love you

He was vaguely aware of Blaise cat calling in the background when he kissed her.

#druna #druna fic #modern au #hp fanfiction

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ashleighxx · 7 years

Text

Klarolinemashup Day Two

Saturday15th|ObjectPrompt|A belt, a coffee mug and a notebook

Klaus had been living on the streets go around a year now. His father, Mikael, had found out he wasn't his son and got seriously drunk. So by the time Klaus had come home from an art exhibit, the sight had not been pretty at all. He was always harsh with him, lashing out with his fists sometimes when he was sober, but if he had a drink it always ended up much worse, Mikael favouring his belt after a few scotches. After his beating, Mikael kicked him out with all he had on him at the time, not wanting him around his family. Klaus didn't have any friends, he loved the solitude and preferred to be around his siblings if he needed conversation and connection so he had nowhere else to go. His funds was cut now that he wasn't a real Mikaelson and his pride left him to leave to city he called home invade he bumped into his siblings. He sold his phone and some rings he had on him, took the next bus out of Chicago to New York City, and that's where he has stayed ever since. The one thing he hated living rough, apart from the weather at times, was the looks of pity people cast him. He could deal with the ignorance, the dirty looks off some businessmen who reminded him of the reason he was in that situation. The weather wasn't so nice either, especially now it was winter. It had been constantly raining and he was soaked to the bone, the little covering he did have wasn't enough, so he was huddled in a ball, shivering. Looking down a pair of black heeled boots stopped and pointed at his direction, and once they didn't move for a few minutes Klaus looked at the see what they're problem was. He lifted his gaze to follow up the knee length boots, a sliver of tights peeking between the boots and a black fitted trench coat, a leather satchel in the brightest yellow slung on the person's waist. Carrying on inspecting higher, he saw two disposable hot drinks cups in gloved hands, matching scarf, then the most beautiful sight he had seen stood before him. Soft, blonde waves, framed the stunning pale, skin as she had her head tilted down towards him. Pink rosy cheeks, probably from her drink warming her up, and sparkling, blue eyes staring at him intently.

She looked like an angel.

An angel sent down to him in his time of need.

"Hi." She said softly as she thrust her hand with one of the drinks in toward him. "It's for you." She paused. "For you to drink." She added a bit more cautiously, his face must have looked incredulous. "Thanks." He spoke in trepidation. "My names Caroline." She smiled down at him still. "Klaus." "Come one then." She demanded as she took a step to the side and started walking. "Come where?" "I can't study in the rain." She looked at him with a slight frown, as if he was to know that bit of information, as if he knew her. "I'm not..." he began to say something, he wasn't sure what though. "I'm not gonna ask for your life story or whatever. Just thought you might appreciate someone to talk to in a warm and dry place. Well if you insist." She shrugged and started to walk away. He shot up quick and grabbed his bag before he knew it, following. The blonde woman, Caroline, tilted her head back to make sure he was following behind, smirking as he realised she caught him out. She slowed her steps so he walked with her and began talking about herself. Coaxing him to do the same.

She took him into a large public library and she and the librarian at the desk greeted each other warmly before she carried on into the building.

They silently walked through the library before Caroline directed him to an empty table and she placed her bag down at the table, shrugged her coat off and hung it on the back of the chair before she sat on it. Looking up at Klaus through her long lashes, a beautiful smile on her face, she nodded for him to sit down too, and after her not so subtle encouragement, he shuffled his way opposite her. He brought his hot coffee mug down in front of him and he cradled it between his hands to try and keep the warmth in them.

He watched in confusion as she grabbed a few books out of her bag and she put them about the place in a neatly manor, spotting books on various topics which he assumed was part of her college degree. He was so confused and wary at this young woman’s display of kindness and compassion towards him.

Klaus had mixed feelings of the topic.

He hated feeling weak and accepting help from anyone, he refused a lot of help throughout his time of being homeless, but he simply didn't understand why he suddenly felt grateful now. It simply couldn't be that she was beautiful, though that did have an added bonus, but he thinks it was because she hadn't treated him luck scum, she hadn't tried to belittle him and knock him down while he was already at rock bottom. No she simply saw him, saw him as a human going through a little difficulty and as though all her words can magic his worries and make his life better. Especially when her smile reached her blue eyes and they twinkled.

He berated himself for acting weak again and he looked down at his steaming coffee, getting lost in a world of his own.

Feeling eyes on him, he glanced up at Caroline who was looking at him shyly before she turned away to look around. “What?”

“We are in a library, why don’t you grab a few books to read or you’ll be bored stiff. I'm gonna be here all day.”

Chuckling to himself at her demand, he stood up and walked a few aisles of the library and grabbed a few art books, checking out some new artists local to New York always eager to learn new techniques.

Hours passed and Klaus and Caroline were having fun. The dark haired woman from the reception desk had come over a few times. It turns out she was Caroline's friend, and this was her part time job to help fund her degree. He tried not to listen into their conversations as he was a gentleman at heart. He had to admit teasing the blonde was amusing though, even though it was sort of ungentlemanly of him. But he adorned the way her eyes flared up when he proved she was wrong and the way her forehead creased while she concentrated on her studies. She had relentlessly teased him back though and he enjoyed her look of triumph when she had beat him in a little quiz she had to do for one of her coursework.

Seeing her so passionate in her work made him feel a little somber, he couldn't remember the last time he held a paintbrush in his hands, a pencil even to sketch, and oh, how he longed to draw this stunning goddess that gave him time of day.

“What's up?” she whispered, as if she felt his sadness radiate from him.

“Nothing.” “Come on Klaus, tell me. It may help to clear some stuff off your chest.” her voice soothed him, like a balm for his soul and healing his pain.

“It’s just reading about art. Its one of my passions and I haven't been able to draw in a while that’s all.” He explained, carrying on reading his book in front of him. “I miss it.” he confessed.

Sensing to leave the topic alone, Caroline carried on reading her own book, drifting them into a comfortable silence.

Evening was fast approaching and Caroline grabbed another notebook out of her bag before scribbling some stuff onto it, ripping the page ut and folding it. She slid it towards Klaus. “There's directions and location of the homeless shelter I work at. Food, shower and a roof over your head. Please go there, the storm is rolling in any day now.” She threw her coat on and stuffed her books back into her satchel, ignore him and any signs of protesting, which he was going to. “I’ll see you around, Klaus.” She called over her shoulder as she left the library, and him behind.

Safe to say he didn't turn up at the shelter that night.

Caroline found him two days later. She had hoped he had come to the shelter after their time spent together, but she saw the stubbornness set on his face. It was why she fled quickly, trying not to give him time to reject the idea. She had helped loads of people on the streets, day after day, but she couldn't understand why he was so different. Why she connected with him so fast, why she was desperate that he kept safe from the upcoming snow storm.

She walked around the streets of New York looking for him. She knew she was being stupid and that she may not find him in the metal jungle but she was determined to find him by tonight, before the first snowfall.

She felt foolish these past few days.

The night she left Klaus, she headed home only to bypass an art supplies shop, taking a few steps back, her feet compelled her into the store and she browsed the lavish stock they had. Caroline bought a few stuff though. A sketch pad and some pencils, hoping she would bump into him on her shifts at the shelter, but he was nowhere to be seen. So they sat in her apartment, still in its gift wrap, awaiting to be torn open by its rightful owner.

She finally spotted him across the street and she jumped through traffic to get to him on the other side. He looked up at her, startled when he registered who’s face it was under the hat and scarf she wrapped herself up in.

“Hello, love.” he smiled at her, causing her to frown at his happiness, while she was worried about him.

She huffed and stomped her foot slightly, mentally curing herself for acting like a spoilt brat but she carried on when his face morphed into amusement. “You!” She pointed at him, “You're coming with me, whether you like it or not.”

“I cant, sweetheart. The shelter would be closing right about now.”

Damn him and his stubbornness and for refusing her generosity. “Well it's a good thing I'm not taking you there. Now grab your stuff and move it.” She put on her best commanding voice, channeling her inner cheerleader and he raised his eyebrow at her before getting his stuff together and follow her.

She led him back to her apartment and opened the door, wondering if this was a good idea after all, but she trusted him and she trusted her gut, so Caroline widened the door to let him inside. Her home was a tiny one bedroom apartment but she had gone out and decorated it in light and homey colours with soft furnishings. She was proud of what she had achieved in life, no matter how little.

Caroline walked over to the sofa and pulled it out into a bed, leaving Klaus stand in the room alone as she grabbed spare sheets and bedding from the closet. He watched her, no, gaped at her as she settled into her task of turning the living room into a bedroom for her new guest.

“I don’t need your charity, Caroline.” He tried to growl at her, but it came out more of a shocked grunt.

Giggling she walked into the tiny kitchen space that was opened out into the living room and she fixed herself and Klaus a sandwich and a drink, turning to look at him. “Tough, you're getting it.”

She brought them back into the living room and was glad when she saw Klaus had took off his jacket and had sat down on the edge of the sofa bed, looking at the side table. Looking at his name scribbled on a piece of card on top of the wrapped art supplies.

“Thats for you. You would have had it sooner, but you didn't show up.” She bit into her sandwich and turned to television on, glancing over at him now and again to make sure he was eating, and opening his gift. He gasped in surprise once he did and he choked a thanks before looking away.

It wasn't even half an hour later when she heard the tell tale signs of pencil scratching over the parchment.

She really was excited to have him stay as a roommate.

Telling him he was staying was going to be a challenge though.

But she never backed down from those.

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klarolinemashup #Ashleigh's fanfiction

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yoi-secret-valentines2017 · 7 years

Text

a bicycle built for two

for @victoryuriyuri Happy Valentine’s Day! Thanks for getting me into this adorable ship :)

by Edgedancer (@radiantmists)

***

Leo <3: i think im crying Me: me too Leo <3: that was the most beautiful thing ive ever seen Me: i didnt think victor could get better but that was Me: oh my god Leo <3: and just think, youve touched his underwear Me: oh my god Leo <3: i guess yuuri really changed him Me: just as much as he changed Yuuri Me: four continents is going to be amazing Me: i can’t wait Leo <3: yeah! Leo <3: its a shame that its on valentine’s day though… Leo <3: the lasu here has a bunch of really fun-looking events planned! Leo <3: maybe we can do something, though i don’t know how i’d plan anything in korea.

Guang Hong Ji, in that moment, experiences what feels like a divine revelation. He knows with perfect, stunning clarity that February 14th will be the day he confesses to the love of his life.

Me: I’ll take care of everything.

This is not, in fact, the first time he’s experienced such perfect clarity. It’s the third.

The first had been when he was seven. He had turned on the TV, and there it had been: the costumes, the blades, the music and the ice. It is the first truly vivid memory he has of his childhood: sometimes Guang Hong recalls brief glimpses of existence before, but more often he feels as though his life began in that instant.

He had demanded ice skating lessons the next day. His parents had first been innocently obliging, then glad he had found a passion, then dawningly awed at his dedication. Three months later, when he asked for tickets to the national championships for his eighth birthday, they had sat him down and asked him if he wanted private lessons.

Guang Hong had seized the opportunity, had kept working towards the goal that shone in his mind since then. He had entered the junior international circuit at fourteen, and only the sensational talent of Yuri Plisetsky had overshadowed his own. When Guang Hong had been offered a place at off-season camps in Canada and the United States, he’d said yes without a second thought; the path to the vision that had become the center of his life had seemed clearer than ever.

In America, he’d found many things: that many internationally competitive skaters his age couldn’t yet land a triple axel, the glory of SNS, his own sexuality, friends, the mysterious draw of McDonald’s chicken nuggets, and Leo.

The crush had come first; he’d been enthralled with Leo, making his senior debut at seventeen and already being credited for his own choreography. He’d been the coolest thing on ice skates, completely original and true to his own vision.

But the celebrity crush had given way to friendship soon enough, because Leo was also the nicest thing on two legs, helping Guang Hong navigate a new country and effortlessly integrating him into the complex social circle that was the international skating community.

One day, about six months ago, Guang Hong had come upon Leo chewing on a pencil, one earbud in and staring at a notebook filled with choreography notes.

Leo had seen him and smiled, not too wide but warm as the California sun, and offered Guang Hong the other earbud.

“Can’t you just see the program unfolding?” he’d asked. “It’s like everything was already there, inside me, and this song just pulled it out.” He saw Guang Hong’s expression and seemed to shrink slightly. “Is that weird?”

Guang Hong had barely been able to shake his head, because his whole mind was caught up in Leo’s excitement, Leo’s vision, Leo. And stunningly clear like a miracle, like it had been inside him all the time and just waiting to come out, he’d thought: I’m going to keep you forever.

That’s really the core of it; Guang Hong, once he knows what he wants, plays for keeps. He doesn’t do anything by halves. Case in point: the confession.

It takes less than ten minutes for his plans to start spilling out of his brain onto paper. He already knows Leo’s flight number; luckily, Guang Hong will be arriving first. Equally lucky, the time zones will work out so that both of them will still be wide awake that night.

Guang Hong plans out every detail, plots a thousand tiny ways to make this the best night Leo has ever had. Though he decides to save some of them for the eventual proposal, by the time he has to get to sleep or risk missing practice, he has envisioned essentially the perfect first date.

The next day, he has to start making that vision a reality.

There are hundreds of restaurants in Gangneung that are rated above four and a half stars on Yelp. There is a flower shop in the airport with mediocre reviews and about thirty in the surrounding area that are much better. Guang Hong finds himself squinting at fuzzy pictures of bicycle rental shops and wondering whether they would have the right color by the time he got there.

At that point, Guang Hong realizes he could probably use some help.

He opens his phone and enlists the greatest ally of all skaters in love.

Me: I’m confessing to Leo at 4C on Valentine’s Day. Phichit: !!! Phichit: Congratulations! Me: do you want to help? Phichit: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Phichit: ofc! Me: so here’s the plan Me: [image sent] Me: [image sent] Me: [image sent] Phichit: O.O Phichit: one second

Guang Hong realizes rather suddenly that this plan is kind of– well, Phichit probably thinks he’s a total weirdo now…

phichu has invited you to a new group chat: V-Day!!!

You joined the chat K-Yuuri joined the chat

K-Yuuri: what is this about, phichit?

v-nikiforov joined the chat

You: oh my god v-nikiforov: not quite! but thank you! K-Yuuri: victor are you even serious You: phichit who did you invite phichu: everyone whose handle i know and whos gonna be at 4C K-Yuuri: jj’s not here You: please tell me you didnt invite him phichu: ok ill rephrase phichu: everyone i trust not to be a complete jerk is here K-Yuuri: neither is seung-gil. i thought you liked him phichu: hes just slow shhhh phichu: anyway heres the deal phichu: as we all know guang hong is adorably in love with leo v-nikiforov: we do???? K-Yuuri: … phichu: … K-Yuuri: i love you but you’re an idiot You: i mean to be fair he spent about 30% of his time with us blackout drunk v-nikiforov: hey! so mean :( You: and you two have known us for years v-nikiforov: oh and i love you too yuuri! phichu: that adorable dorkery aside phichu: despite the fact that everyone also knows leo loves him back phichu: they are not yet together K-Yuuri: still???? phichu: ikr? phichu: but phichu: guang hong has decided to fix this phichu: [image sent] phichu: [image sent] phichu: [image sent] K-Yuuri: O.O phichu: thats what i said v-nikiforov: guang hong You: uh… yes?

Guang Hong squeezes his teddy bear and feels a terrible sense of dread. He’d planned all this out thinking that Leo, Leo with his artist’s soul, deserved something wonderful, but Victor Nikiforov, the most dramatic being on planet Earth, thinks it’s too saccharine…

v-nikiforov: this is the second most beautiful thing ive ever seen v-nikiforov: please let me help You: whats the first? phichu: hes gonna say yuuri v-nikiforov: yuuri v-nikiforov: how do you type so fast K-Yuuri: ANYWAY id like to help too if you need it You: thanks guys K-Yuuri: but we really need someone who knows the city to help K-Yuuri: even just knowing the language for reservations and stuff would be nice phichu: you’re right phichu: thankfully i have an ace up my sleeve

s-g-lee joined the chat

s-g-lee: what is this phichu: how is your timing so perfect phichu: anyway scroll up phichu: you train in gangneung right

***

Guang Hong sat in the cafe and watched Leo eat the last piece of the cake they’d shared with a quiet sense of satisfaction.

He had met Leo at the airport gate, flowers in hand. Phichit had taken Leo’s bags and walked off with his coach, the two of them giggling like schoolgirls.

Leo and Guang Hong had caught up as they wound their way out of the airport to the road. Though they’d been messaging each other all the time they’d been apart, there was something different about walking next to each other, matching their strides and bumping elbows affectionately.

When Guang Hong had begun steering them toward the bike rental, Leo had perked up before looking at the flowers still in his hands in worry. Guang Hong had smiled and told him to wait outside, before returning with a old-style tandem bicycle, complete with front basket.

They’d made their way through the streets, reveling in the cheerful, bustling atmosphere. Leo had pointed out a little cart in one of the market squares, and they had stopped to eat, Guang Hong laughing at Leo’s wide-eyed reaction to biting into a pepper, Leo wiping a crumb from his cheek. It’s incredible how Guang Hong can plan everything and think it’s perfect, and then Leo comes along with his spontaneous grace and somehow makes it a thousand times better.

Eventually, they’d reached the café Seung-gil had recommended. Leo thankfully hadn’t looked too closely at the couple that walked out as they walked in and so had missed Victor’s conspiratory wink before Yuuri had dragged him away.

Leo had squeezed his hand– when had he taken it?– as they entered and were led to a table by the window, their favorite songs beginning to filter softly through the room.

And now here they are, looking at each other over a pink candle and a red rose, and so Guang Hong finally says what’s been hanging in the air this whole time, artless and simple: “I love you.”

On Leo’s face there’s no hint of surprise, and Guang Hong thinks that this is why they were meant for each other: their worlds are made of simple truths: this is how it is, this is how I feel, this is how it will be.

Leo smiles, takes his hand. “I know.”

Then he laughs as Nat King Cole’s light tones rise through the air, but without letting go of Guang Hong’s hand he sings along with the chorus– all for the love of you– and his voice is sweet and perfectly, divinely clear.

#yoi secret valentines #writing #submission

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