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clarkesrifle · 3 years

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Title: The Forgotten Day Pairing: Levi Ackerman x nb!reader Warnings: None, no spoilers Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2.2k Summary: The Survey Corps had no time to remember birthdays -- it was a miracle that anyone knew each other’s name, really. Imagine your surprise when you found a crudely-wrapped item with your name on it on your forgotten day. Ko-Fi | Requests! Notes: Unedited, written when I was lonely.

The Survey Corps had a high turnover rate, as was natural with the profession. How many had died since its establishment? Were any of them remembered, or was all that was left of them was a tiny inscription within the seemingly endless book of those that died in the service to humanity?

Birthdays were unimportant. For some, remembering that comrades were human beings with families, lives, and histories made their duty too difficult. It was decidedly easier to ignore those things. Comrades, at the end of the day, were a means to an end. A partnership doomed to fail. It was easier to forget about them when you didn’t know their important days.

It was hard for you to grasp at the beginning of your tenure. Despite your family’s economic status within the walls and regardless of your experiences with your birthdays, you found it difficult to trust the people around you when you knew so little about them.

Where are you from? Have you seen a titan before? Why did you enlist? Have you killed one before?

Sometimes, it was difficult to discern whether your friendships were born out of genuine care for each other or rather the respect that was necessary to function together as a unit.

Captain Levi had intrigued you from the start -- so many rumors about him lingered throughout the walls. He was a bonafide celebrity and a mysterious one at that. How many families told stories of him? How many children’s nightmares were soothed by the mere mention of his name?

You remembered the first time that you had ever seen him -- the Scouts marched through the quad on horseback, passing through Shiganshina’s marketplace. You crawled on top of the fruit stand’s fabric canopy, feeling it dip underneath your weight. You were so small then, it feels like.

Levi walked his horse into the quad, directly behind Commander Erwin. How could so much strength and resolve lie within such a small body? He didn’t strike you as overtly handsome at first glance. No, your appreciation for his appearance grew slowly over your years wearing your wings.

Admittedly, the years that you did remember your birthday were lamentable. Days off within the corps were few and far between, and when your birthday didn't matter, you couldn’t exactly do anything for it.

Your body felt as though it was about to explode; training only grew more intense the longer that you were enlisted. You supposed this burning pain was worth it -- the Scouts couldn’t risk any more people than necessary, and the best way to prevent deaths was extreme preparedness.

Your squad leader, the infamous Levi, pushed you harder each day. Keeping your cool, both physically and mentally, was difficult whenever he was around. Impressive was the least you could say about your captain.

He seemed peaceful whenever he trained, as though he were relaxing lakeside -- you allowed yourself a quick moment to picture Levi lakeside -- without a care in the world or a titan to slay. It was mesmerizing to watch him use the ODM gear; it was as though he were performing a beautiful and intricate dance.

Much to your chagrin, he ordered you to clean the muck from the stables and care for the hooves of the horses following training, a task that would surely take you hours. Levi, in all of his mysteriousness, was particularly anal about cleanliness.

Being alone with your thoughts was particularly distressing on your birthday. You couldn’t help but wonder about the people you’ve lost -- how many birthdays had they lived? How many more would there have been? Why were you given the privilege to live when they were gone?

For some faces that lived behind your eyes, you regretted not knowing them more. You noticed with anguish that many of those faces lost their sharpness in your memory, the years replacing their features with blurs and blobs.

The moon was rising by the time that you finished your appointed task. Your lower back throbbed, your calves screamed as you climbed the stairs towards your lodging.

Your room was perfectly modest -- only a bed, a dresser, and a desk were provided to you. The pillow was flat; you were not the first nor the last to use it. The blankets were made of a course and itchy material but did its job well enough.

Blinking, you noticed a horribly wrapped item sitting upon your bed. It seemed to be covered with the same paper the captains write correspondence with, tied with twine. Written on it was your name in nearly illegible chicken-scratch, but still, it was your name.

“Um,” you mumbled under your breath. Sitting before the present, you undid the complicated knot with your calloused fingers. Inside lay a book; it was leather-bound, old, possibly expensive. The inside of the wrapping paper had a small note written on it, which read: It's your birthday. Congrats on not getting munched on for another year.

You gasped quietly. It was your first birthday present in years, possibly ever. After the initial shock had worn off, you hungrily opened the book, skimming through pages after pages of incredible drawings, information about a world you'd probably never see.

You flipped back to the beginning, noticing that whoever gave you this gift had left a small note just under the first chapter heading: I keep hearing about the world outside of the walls. Thought you might be interested.

Closing the cover, you held the book tightly to your chest. Thank you, you thought to yourself.

Hearing Armin speak of the sea intrigued Levi. Throughout his life, he had never allowed himself to think of the world beyond the walls. By the time he went on his first expedition outside of them, he could only think about titans.

He had first noticed you upon your entrance to the corps. Erwin had given a rousing yet truthful speech, as he did at every graduation. Levi stood offside the stage, taking in the group of cadets that had stayed.

The Captain had long become used to seeing the fearful faces, the determined faces, the strong, the angry ones. Yours, however, intrigued him.

You looked resigned.

You looked incredibly aware of the sacrifices you would have to make, the people that you would lose. You looked so painfully aware of the trials and tribulations to come. It seemed as though you were the only cadet that understood the reality of being a Scout.

So he pushed you. He knew deep down that he pushed you harder than the others. Levi had even requested you to be apart of his squad. Erwin had looked at him with curiosity at that, only Levi, who could read the man better than anyone else, could see it.

It had been Erwin who had first noticed your feelings for your squad leader. You had been subtle, truthfully, and only a man as detail-oriented as the Commander could see.

He had noticed it after you delivered tea to his chambers, where he, Levi, and Hange were having a meeting to discuss the budget for the next quarter. You had lingered a mere millisecond when you handed Levi his cup, skin grazing against each other so gently. Levi had been surprised at just how much he felt at that slight touch, how much heat erupted on his hands.

You did not stay long after that, wishing Hange a goodnight with a gentle squeeze to her elbow -- Levi was unaware of the friendship that you two had.

Levi glanced at his Commander, who smiled over his teacup, looking pointedly at him. "What?" Levi asked. Erwin shook his head, a low chuckle coming from him. "What?" Levi asked again, impatiently.

"Nothing," Erwin replied, a soft smile gracing his features. "Just don't let yourself get too distracted, Captain."

He refused to elaborate.

Hange was the next to notice. You volunteered your extra time, particularly on your loneliest days, to help her with various experiments. Most of the time, you were on standby, looking out for Erwin. It was very clear to you that these experiments were largely unapproved.

Levi visited Hange's laboratory one day, a ration bar in his pocket. You may not have noticed him slip the bar into your bag's pocket, but Hange surely did.

It had taken plenty of prodding on the scientist's part to get Levi to admit a certain level of care and affection for you. You had been hurt slightly during an expedition. It was nothing serious, and yet the Captain insisted that you stay behind on the following day's adventure. You had fought tooth and nail to convince him otherwise, which landed you a day's worth of paperwork for insubordination. He strategically picked the following day, forcing you to miss the mission to finish the massive pile of work that was needed in a short amount of time.

"Y/N'd just be dead weight," Levi grumbled to Hange after she had cornered him. "I'm not going to babysit someone just because they got hurt and were too stubborn to heal."

Hange scoffed at her shorter friend. "It was only a twisted ankle, y/n was cleared for the mission immediately."

"I'm not going to risk another brat being killed because of a stupid, unhealed injury. That's final." Levi looked below them, taking in the four-meter titan underneath them. Easy.

He triggered his ODM gear, rearing his arms backward and slicing forward at the beast's neck, grinning as the nape fell off of it towards the ground. The titan fell, mouth agape, onto its side. Landing onto a tree limb, he scoured the forest floor for more.

Hange was not far behind. She landed beside him, intent on harassing him until she was satisfied with his answer. He rolled his eyes. Maybe it would have been less of a hassle to keep Y/N in the game. Babysitting didn't seem as awful as being stalked.

He hadn't meant to overhear Armin one night, but the conversation intrigued him. The sea. A forest that not even with fifty gas reserves could he traverse. Small pieces of white, cold fluff falling from the sky like a gentle rain.

A strange warmth built in his chest -- he could picture it all easily, but he couldn't picture any piece of the world without you being there with him. Levi wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He had crashed into an abandoned home after slaying a titan. He needed a moment to refill his gas tanks, and he needed a place under cover to do so.

Levi had landed in a library. Books covered most of the floor, the walls, the tables throughout the room. Besides the dust, the new debris, and the vines growing into the building, it seemed as though life had been suddenly paused and could start again at any moment. Strangely, he felt like he was intruding on something.

He found himself drawn to a book, hidden at the back of a shelf. The books that had once been in front of it had been thrown to the ground in the mad dash to escape the titan-infested city.

The spine of the leather-bound book had a portrait of a snow-capped mountain imprinted into the material. A mountain. He hadn't heard of one before he had overheard Armin that one night.

It had been covered, hidden.

Illegal, he realized. Interest built in his chest, he grabbed the book and flipped through it quickly, looking at the intricate drawings. He thought of you.

Slipping it into his waistband, Levi left the library through the way that he came.

Shamelessly, Levi dug into the records in Erwin's office long after the Commander had retired to bed. Y/N L/N, he read, yanking the file out of the cabinet and searching.

Six months away.

He made a note of it before slipping the file back into the cabinet and pretended he never did anything at all.

In the days leading up to your birthday, he found himself busier than he had expected. He had hoped to wrap the book days in advance, but life never turned out how he wanted or expected. He waited until after training and bought himself time by asking you to clean the stables and care for the horses.

You were just as fastidious as he was when it came to keeping things clean, something he was impressed by and thankful for at this moment.

He hadn't the time to go into town to buy proper wrapping, so he improvised.

Being a soldier was about improvising a bad situation into something better.

Something better was wrapping the book in stationary. "It looks like shit," he mumbled to himself. He attempted to save it by tying it with twine, but he looked out of his bedroom window and saw that you were already heading back towards the barracks.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thought to himself. Undignified, he ran up the stairs towards your bedroom -- which he knew was yours based on how pristine it was -- and dropped the book onto your bed without much thought.

The next day, he watched with a rare smile as you read in the mess hall. Happy birthday, brat, he thought to himself. He took a sip of his tea, savoring it.

He wasn't sure if the warmth in his chest was from your appreciation of the gift or the heat of his drink.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #fanfiction #aot #attack on titan #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi aot #fanfic #drabble #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #singeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin levi #snk #snk fic #snk fanfiction #snk fanfic

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clarkesrifle · 4 years

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You, Me, Us

— Jamie and Dani had thirteen blissful, wonderful years together. It would never be enough, but it was more than worth it.

status: ongoing warnings: major character death tropes: lesbian flower shops, domestic wlw pairing: dani clayton x jamie (the gardener) genre: romance, fluff updates: tbd

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

AO3 | FF.net

#thobm #dani x jamie #dani clayton x jamie #ml #thobm ml #thobm spoilers #the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #bly manor spoilers

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clarkesrifle · 4 years

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You, Me, Us

The Haunting of Bly Manor Spoilers below the cut (fic)

Chapter: 1/4 -- The Final Night at Bly Summary: Jamie and Dani had nine blissful, wonderful years together. It would never be enough, but it was more than worth it. Rating: T Warnings: Major Character Death A/N: This is unedited. It was written when I had no sleep for more than 36 hours. Whoopsie.

ao3

“YOU WON'T FEEL IT,” Rebecca whispered to the young girl. “Okay? I’ll…I’ll feel it for you. I’ll just tuck you away, one last time.” Her heart was broken. For so long, so long ago now, she had put effort into this child’s education, her rearing…and now she was resigned to watch her die. “Go ahead, love. You let me handle this part.” Rebecca already knew what would happen. She had felt the burning ache of water creeping into her lungs, slowly and then all at once. The horrible, terrible burning. The taste of rotten algae and dissolved flesh on her tongue. She feared water so immensely now, but for Flora….she’d go through it again. She knew what would happen. She was prepared. It wouldn’t take any of the pain away from her, but she was ready for it this time.

For a moment, she indulged herself in anger towards her former lover for leaving her to drown on her own, alone. He cowered away, pussied out in the final moments. She died, unwillingly, terribly, alone.

Rebecca refused to let Flora go through the same pain.

“Let me in,” the former Governess said to her student, her friend. “Let me in.”

“It’s you. It’s me. It’s us.” Flora was gone.

☾

THE WATER OF THE LAKE WAS FRIGID, unlike anything Dani had ever felt before. Her throat throbbed, her voice was hoarse and she struggled to make a noise louder and more coherent than a moan — she had just been strangled, after all.

Flora, Flora, Flora. Her mind only went to Flora. She had failed Miles so horribly. Peter was all that was left. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t let Flora sacrifice herself for her. She was so young — so much to live for, so much more to see.

And drowning….

Drowning was such an awful way to die.

Flora, who had just previously been screaming for help, had fallen eerily silent, as though she were already gone. Perhaps she was. Please, Dani pleaded with herself to hurry. To move faster despite not being able to take in enough air. Her legs and back were battered from the Lady’s ascent up the stairs.

Dani had seen Rebecca enter into Flora, pushing the child into the “forever home,” as Peter had called it. Both children were supposedly gone, but Dani wouldn’t allow it. She’d personally organize a fucking exorcism if she had to.

Without real thought or reason other than pure instinct, Dani forced the words out of her mouth with such strength she knew not that she had.

“It’s - It’s you.”

The air couldn’t pass through her mouth properly, the words wheezed yet were powerful nonetheless.

“It’s me.”

Flora’s chin grazed the water now. Dani was running out of time, and quickly. Another step and the girl’s nose would be underwater.

“It’s us!”

The Lady turned, and Dani felt her stomach lurch with both disgust and terror at the sight of her face and utter hope that perhaps it had worked. Please, please, please. Jamie called out for Dani in the distance, but the blonde was so hyper-focused on the girl that she did not hear.

The spirit walked closer to her until she was very well inside of her. Dani felt the entirety of her composition changing as she welcomed in her new housemate. A pool of rage entered into her stomach, deep within, untouchable yet still noticeable.

Suddenly, Flora was in her arms. Dani felt her mouth move but she was unsure of the words she was saying. She felt the water move behind them as Jamie ran into the lake and crushed them both into a hug.

The water was freezing, the spirit inside of her colder and darker, and Dani was unsure if she was in the midst of a panic attack or hypothermia, but she stuttered and repeated the same words over and over again into Flora’s ear.

Jamie spoke, but Dani couldn’t register what was said over her own swirling emotions, but when the gardener pressed her forehead so gently onto her own…it quieted. For a single moment, it all quieted down.

The Gardener helped the girls out of the lake, where they reunited with Henry and Owen.

“Hannah, where’s Hannah?” Owen forced himself to speak. Henry couldn’t quite meet his gaze…

The owner of Bly Manor rubbed Flora’s head affectionately, looking down at his niece — daughter, not that he would ever tell — and nephew. He supposed the best course of things was to tell them all the next day after they’d had time to rest and to process, and perhaps better understand all that had gone on in recent weeks with the housekeeper, who lingered just like the rest of the dead.

☾

JAMIE TURNED THE COLD WATER ON. They were both covered in foul algae. They needed to get it off, otherwise, she was sure that they’d never get the stench off of their skin for the rest of time.

Jamie did put them both in the shower because of the smell, and she told Dani, who had gone quiet after they had left the edge of the lake, as much. What she didn’t tell her was that she had heard that running water helped ease shock.

The au pair sat down onto the tile directly under the stream of the water. She blinked. Dani shielded her eyes and looked up as Jamie slowly turned on the hot water before leaning down onto the tile next to her.

“You don’t have to take off your clothes,” Jamie whispered as she draped her hands off of her knees. “If you don’t want to.” She couldn’t help but feel so painfully awkward in this situation. What should she say? I’m sorry you’ve let a vengeful, murdering ghost into your body, but you smell. “Can I…can I wash your hair?”

Dani looked at Jamie’s hands for a moment, wondering how they’d feel on her so intimately. She nodded her head, but didn’t say a word, she just turned around so that the water would hit her back and not her side.

Tenderly, slowly, as though she were afraid to set her off, Jamie pulled all of Dani’s hair towards her back, letting the water hit it completely and rise out some of the dirty lake. Jamie had brought the shampoo and conditioner into the shower with them and globbed a large amount into her palm. Rubbing it between her palms, she gently placed them into Dani’s blonde locks.

Brown bubbles fell off of Dani’s hair and swam down the drain and Jamie watched it go away, praying that it would be the last time she saw any part of that lake. For her profession, she had to keep her nails trimmed back so that there wasn’t much dirt trapped beneath them by the end of the day. Instead of scratching, she rubbed Dani’s scalp with her fingertips.

Jamie touched Dani’s chin gently, tilting her head back so that she could rinse out the rest of the shampoo. “Guess it’s more efficient this way,” Jamie tried to tease, but her usual flirting tone sounded more dower tonight. “Got your washing and your hair done all at once. Who needs a launder anymore, anyway?”

It pained her to hear Dani not respond. She missed her smile. That big, goofy, sweet smile that made her stomach jump when she first caused it. Jamie had been proud of making her smile. She felt shame in not being able to, at the moment where perhaps she needed to the most.

Rubbing the conditioner between her fingers as she had the shampoo, Jamie generously applied it to Dani, who was overcome with such an overabundance of emotions that she felt numb.

The only thing that Dani could think — the first thought to pass through her head for the hour — was how good it felt to have Jamie wash her hair.

The process was repeated with the conditioner, and Jamie tried to excuse herself from the shower so that Dani could disrobe and wash the rest of herself, but a hand caught her wrist. “Stay,” Dani could barely whisper. “Please.” Her lip quivered.

Jamie could only nod her head. Dani stood, and despite the heat of the water, she couldn’t stop shivering. One by one, article by article, Dani took off her clothes with some gentle help from the Gardener.

Not how I expected to take off her clothes for the first time, Jamie thought to herself. Out of respect for both Dani and for the situation, Jamie didn’t let her eyes go any lower than the flowering bruises on her neck. She wanted so desperately to reach out, kiss them, make them go away, but she knew that only time could do that.

The soap had been kept in a shower caddy, which she applied vigorously to herself, scrubbing herself red and bloody in some places. Dani wanted to scratch the Lady out of her body, scratch the remnants of the lake, the horror, everything away. Jamie grasped Dani’s wrists, placing her forehead onto the blonde’s. Gently, as though saying I’ve got you, you’re safe, Jamie rubbed her nose against the au pair’s.

I’ve got you, Jamie thought to herself. I’m here.

After Dani finished cleaning herself, she did not want to be left alone, not for a single moment. Jamie undressed, showered, and they stayed inside of the tiled walls until the water turned cold and then some.

Jamie helped her friend — lover, partner, it was still unsure — dress in a nightgown, and tucked her into bed, kissing her forehead gently. “Please stay,” Dani said once more, begging her with both her words and her eyes. “Stay.”

Looking through Dani’s wardrobe, Jamie grabbed the nanny’s winter pajamas and threw them on quickly before crawling into bed next to her. Dani felt freezing still, and she quickly huddled against Jamie for her warmth and for her comfort.

Soon, Dani fell asleep to the feeling of Jamie running her fingers through her wet hair.

☾

THE NEXT MORNING, Owen looked down upon the curled-up body of Miss Hannah Grose. He maintained his composure for a short while before crumpling inside, emotionally concaving upon himself. His breathing faltered and he found himself doing something that he hadn’t done even when his mother had died.

He bargained. He pleaded.

But none of his thoughts, nor his aching heart, nor his pleas for her return did much more than die at the bottom of the well as she had.

His mother — well, that had been a long time coming. Owen had long accepted the fact that his mother had died and left a shell that looked and sounded like her behind, inhabited by something other, someone different.

Hannah, on the other hand, had just been alive. He had just seen her not an hour before, beautiful in the moonlight but distraught at his being there. Would that truly be his last memory of her? Of her telling him that he wasn’t meant to be there? Of her foolishly trying to protect him from a ghoul when she had been the one needing him?

How long had it been? Had it truly been her, or an apparition? Her curious spaciousness and sudden quirks in those final weeks would make sense to him later, but in that moment all he could feel was inconsolable grief.

Did she know? He asked himself as he dug his fingers into the well’s bricks as though it were the only thing keeping him standing — it was. Did she know?

Did she know?

Of course she did, he realized. The thought had been implanted in his head so quickly and without warning, it was as though Hannah had placed it there herself. She knew.

As the others, five blokes from town who had volunteered, came, bringing gifts of rope and condolences, Owen insisted on being the one to rappel down into the well himself. He may not have been there in her final moments — had she been scared? — but he would be there for her final journey.

The well stunk of wet and earth and death. He was unsure if it was naturally this way or if this was the smell of human rot. The way down was long. Long enough to kill, deep enough to fear. When his feet touched the bottom, he was careful to not harm her. The thought of harming a corpse, long disposed of, was almost laughable. Yet, he respected her in death as he had in life. He reached down and closed her eyelids. He couldn’t bear himself to look at her eyes, for fear of what would be there.

Owen gently grasped the woman who should have been his Parisian partner, his co-restauranteur, his…well…. At that moment, he couldn’t smell the rot. Instead, he smelled her perfume. He smelled the smoke of the bonfire not so long ago yet so distant now. He decided, then, that his Hannah Grose would not be a bone he threw to the flames. He would feel this. Permanently.

The group of men above him pulled and heaved their combined weights all the way up the well. Finally, after God knows how long, Hannah was free.

She knew, Owen told himself.

She felt the same.

Strangely, The Batter Place never had a speck of dirt within its walls. The whole of the restaurant was pristine in its cleanliness. If one ever cared to watch, they might notice any leaves or twigs that may have been tracked in underfoot being gently rolled out as though pushed by a breeze.

Miss Grose was immortalized upon the walls of Owen’s restaurant, next to his bedside, and forever within his heart. She quite liked it there. It was warm. He was warm.

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clarkesrifle · 4 years

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Navigation

| about me here you can learn some things about me, if you’re interested

| tagging system here are some of my tags with explanations separated out into different categories.

| wips current works in progress

| faq

| request guidelines

| masterlists when I make more stories, the masterlists will be separated out into fandoms and characters.

| taglist form join my taglists! completing this form allows you to join series taglists, character taglists, ship taglists, and even removing yourself from taglists entirely!

| publishing schedule under construction find my upcoming schedules here! series upload schedules can be found within their masterlists.

| ko-fi

#navigation

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clarkesrifle · 4 years

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frequently asked questions

— do you use other websites to post fanfiction? I have accounts on AO3 and FFN that I post my fics on for your convenience.

— can I send in requests? Of course! However, I will do them at my own discretion. Certain topics are off limits to me, which I will discuss further down. That being said, any requests asking for a certain type of original character (specifically dealing with body image, race, or sexuality) will be written.

— what request topics are off limits? Graphic depictions of assault or abuse are triggering subjects for me. I was diagnosed with PTSD when I was fifteen/sixteen and I still struggle with it today. Also, I am uncomfortable writing about certain psychical disabilities or neurological disorders because of the fact that I would never be able to bring justice to the struggle of those topics despite how much I may research them. I would much rather have those who struggle with, either themselves or through family members, such disorders or disabilities run the space and conversation about them. More information can be found here on my rules page.

— will there be a part two of x? Most of my stories are written with the hope that I might come back to them some day and expand on them. This all depends on the interest of readers and/or my own want to continue them. Any continuations will be announced in a separate post and on the original fic, and any fics that I don’t wish to continue them will be labeled at the bottom of the original post.

— is there anything that you don’t write for? Information on what I do and don’t write for can be found here.

— do you have a schedule? Each fic has its own schedule which can be found in its personal masterlist. Find my blog masterlist here. Find the upcoming schedule here.

— do you have a taglist? I do! My taglist form can be found here. Please pay attention to the questions! Your answers dictate whether or not you will be on the general taglist, which is where you’re tagged in all of my uploads, or my specified taglist, where you’re tagged in a series or in works featuring certain characters.

#faq

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clarkesrifle · 4 years

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written aug. 09. 20.

a few things about me: — I am nineteen years old, an aries, an activist, an actress, and very fucking disrespectful — my pronouns are she/her — I am planning to major in linguistics at my local university — I often create my own languages for my works. All conlangs are created by me unless otherwise stated — I began writing fanfiction in elementary school — I am a Dr. Pepper addict — I’m bisexual! My mother said that she knew for years before I did because according to her, I gave off “Kristen Stewart vibes.” — Harry Potter Info: — Houses: Slytherin/Puckwudgie — Wand: Hazel Wood with unicorn hair core, 10.75 inches with a hard flexibility — Patronus: Pine Marten (weasel)

#about me

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clarkesrifle · 4 years

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request rules

please read the rules completely before requesting!

note: I reserve the right to refuse to write a request. However, depending on the topic, I will recommend fics based off of your request if I am unable to fulfill it. This will not happen every time. Other times, I may delete the request entirely. If it is on anon, you are welcome to ask if your request was deleted. If it comes from your account, I will dm you that your request could not be completed.

for my anon’s: please include a name or an emoji I can tag your requests or asks with so that you can easily find them, i.e. # baby anon

general rules

— what do I not write? 1. graphic depictions of abuse, self-harm, suicide, assault, or other triggering subjects 2. p*dophilia 3. omegaverse 4. fetishes 5. characters I don’t have a good understanding of 6. medical conditions, physical disabilities (besides deafness or blindness), extreme mental illness, and/or neurological conditions 7. inc*st 8. songfics 9. fics meant to cause second-hand embarassment 10. crackfics 11. stripteases/lapdances 12. gender-identity issues with the main character (I am cis and I don’t think that I would be able to give such an important, life-changing, and self-defining topic justice) 13. dark content

— what am I willing to write? 1. teen pregnancy 2. character x reader 3. character x character 4. character x original character 5. platonic and romantic situations 6. hurt/comfort situations (a character reacts to another character/reader being in an abusive relationship, etc). 7. au requests

— when requesting;

please do not ask for a full fic. your request may inspire a full fic, and I will automatically add you to the taglist for it.

please limit your requests to oneshots, twoshots, and miniseries (three-five chapters).

please be as specific as possible when requesting — the vaguer the request, the longer it will take to complete.

all “y/n” characters are gender-neutral unless otherwise stated — please include the preferred pronouns in your request

I do requests based off of how inspired I am to do them.

— content examples: headcanons — written in bulletpoints scenarios — written similarly to a drabble but dealing with a specific topic miniseries — a multi-part series between three and five chapters novel-length fics — a fic with more than twenty chapters oneshots — a short story that is only one chapter long twoshots — a short story that is only two chapters long

— specific fandom requests: the 100 harry potter atla the hunger games mha/bnha hphm

#guidelines

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clarkesrifle · 4 years

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tagging system

# fic chats — discussion on upcoming fics # novaaskednanswered — asks # novarecs — recommended fics # nova.writes — all writing # [fandom].scenarios — [fandom] scenarios # [character].scenarios — [character] scenarios # novarequested — fulfilled requests

note: anon tags that have already been taken can be found here.

general tags

For your convenience, every fic is labeled with tags so that you can find them easier. Here are a few examples:

# Character: Job — for when a character has a certain, general profession. An original character having a specific job would be # OC: Job or # y/n: Job. specific jobs, specifically where only one person can have this job, is tagged as: # Job: Character, i.e. # Minister of Magic: Hermione Granger

# previous character x character — for stories that reference exes. original characters that have exes would be # previous oc x character or # previous y/n x character

# injuries [character] — plot driving injuries on a character the character - oc - y/n model applies to this as well.

# soulmates or # soulmate marks — tropes will be listed in tags for convenience

# character: redemption — for stories that redeem characters during the story

# character: redeemed — characters that are redeemed before the events of the story

# [event] — very specific events will be listed as such, like # battle of hogwarts, # battle at the usj, # horcrux hunting

# anti character or # pro character — any character bashing or character loving is labelled with these tags

# tw: [x] — trigger warnings are marked as suck, e.g. # tw: self-harm, #tw: eating disorder

# mental illness: [x] — mental illnesses mentioned in the story

# Turncoat — a betrayal is in this story

# [fandom] au — alternate universes, e.g. # hp royal au

# rescue [character saves character] — for specific rescues, e.g. # rescue [midoriya saves bakugo]

# eventual x — everything that comes very late in the game is listed as an eventual, e.g. # eventual dramione

# Character: Single Parent — single parenting, the character - oc - y/n model applies to this as well

# [character trait] [character] — character traits are listed here, the character - oc - y/n model applies. e.g. # vulnerable bakugo

# [book/movie/manga] compliant — meaning that the plot closely follows the book/movie/manga listed and diverges after the fact, e.g. # the order of the phoenix compliant

# [media type] [book/movie name] au — alternate universies based off of another media, e.g. # [book] pride and prejudice au

# secret feelings [character] — self-explanatory, character - oc - y/n model applies

# dark character — a darker version of a character than is shown in canon

# abuse/assault [character] — abuse or assault on a specific character, e.g. # abuse/assault [hermione]

# character: divorced — characters that are divorced prior to the events in the story, usually supplimented by # previous character x character

# love triangle [character/character/character] — love triangles are listed as such, however polyamorus relationships do not count as love triangles and are listed as # polyamorus [character x character x character]

# polyamorus [character x character x character] — specifically for polyamorus relationships. love triangles are listed as # love triangle [character/character/character]

# kidnapped [character] — when specific characters are kidnapped within or prior to the story, it is marked with this. e.g. # kidnapped [bakugo]. kidnapping stories, even if they happen in canon, are marked with # tw: kidnapping

# illness/disease: x — specific illnesses or diseases that appear heavily or are essential to the story, e.g. # illness/disease: pneumonia. non-specific illnesses or diseases are tagged as # illness: character

# adoption — stories that feature adoption

# adopted [character] — stories where a specific character is adopted

# character: alive — characters that are dead in canon, that are alive in the story

# character: dead — characters that are alive in canon that are dead in the story before the events take place

# slow burn — a story where the main pair do not get together for a little less than half of the story, note that pairs that are not together until or near the very end are listed as # eventual ship or # eventual character x character

# forced marriage — stories where the main pair are forced into marriage, either arranged marriages, political alliance marriages, or through marriage law

# character death — typically important characters that die within the story, not usually referencing characters that die in canon

# major character death — in which a main character dies

# on the run — stories where characters are on the run from the lamb or are being targeted/hunted

# implied/referenced [event] — stories that include trigger warnings that are not graphic, either are alluded to happening during the story or are referenced as to happening before the story, i.e # implied/referenced abuse, # implied/referenced drug use

# sexuality [character] — characters that have a different sexual orientation than shown or stated in canon, i.e. # bisexual draco

# loss of virginity — stories that deal with the loss of virginity

# secret relationship — self-explanatory

# pregnancy / # unplanned pregnancy / # teen pregnancy

# bets and wagers — stories that are kicked off by a bet or a wager

# post [event] — following, either immediately or long after, an event. e.g. # post canon, # post battle of hogwarts

harry potter tags

# hp — the tagline for the fandom

# Character [Species] — specifically for magical-human characters, or human sub-species. e.g. # Character: Werewolf or # Character: Veela

# year [#] — Hogwarts years, specifically dealing with the Golden Era (harry potter’s school years). e.g. # year 6. these tags are supplimented with # golden era. James Potter’s school years are supplimented with # marauder’s era

# golden era — harry potter’s school years

# marauder’s era — james potter’s school years or within the timeline of james potter’s life

# magical creatures: x — specific magical creatures that appear often within the story, e.g. # magical creatures: house elves

# magical items: x — specific magical items that appear often within the story, e.g. # magical items: sorting hat, # magical items: sword of gryffindor

# curses: x — specific curses that appear often within the story or are essential to the plot, e.g. # curses: cruciatus curse

# Head [Boy/Girl]: Character — for stories where the head boy is someone other than the main romantic pair

# Character: Bloodtype — for stories where characters are different bloodtypes than is stated in canon, e.g. # Hermione: Pureblood

# Character: Family — for stories where characters are a part of different families other than what is stated in canon, e.g. # Hermione: Black

# Character: House — for stories where characters are sorted in different houses than is stated in canon, e.g. # Harry Potter: Slytherin

# nonhuman [character] — characters that are a different species than is stated in canon, e.g. # nonhuman [draco]; this would be for stories where a character is a vampire, ghost, poltergeist, etc

# head boy and head girl — where the main pair are both head boy and head girl. other tags where the main pair are coworkers or hogwarts professors are tagged similarly

# ewe — stands for “epilogue? what epilogue?”, meaning that the story follows canon but ignores the epilogue entirely

# marriage law — stories where the ministry of magic imposes a marriage law, either generally or specifically to get rid of pureblood bloodlines

# Character: Death Eater — characters that are not death eaters’ in canon, that are in the story, e.g. # Hermione: Death Eater

# Character: Order Member — characters that are not order members in canon, that are in the story, e.g. # Draco: Order Member

# ancient magic — magic that is archaic in nature, considered old-world, i.e. rituals

# voldemort wins — voldemort wins the battle of hogwarts either before or in the very beginning of the story; can either mean that harry is dead or that the battle of hogwarts is not the final battle

# room of requirement — stories where the room of requirement features heavily. other places like grimmauld place or diagon alley are tagged similarly

# no war — au’s where there is no first or second wizarding war depending on the timeline

avatar the last airbender tags

# atla — the fandom tagline

# character: [element]bender — for characters that are a different type of bender than is stated in canon, e.g. # Katara: Firebender

misc tags

# sw — star wars’ fandom tagline

# ouat — once upon a time’s fandom tagline

# tcon — the chronicles of narnia’s fandom tagline

# thg — the hunger games’ fandom tagline

# mha / # bnha — the fandom taglines for my hero acadamia

# hphm — the fandom tagline for harry potter: hogwarts mystery

# tlou — the fandom tagline for the last of us

# got — the fandom tagline for game of thrones

#tagging system

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clarkesrifle · 4 years

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works in progress

updated: 08.10.20

| Original Works |

as i am now | zutara — full length story — katara should have never existed. zuko was lucky to be born. status: pre-planning

the road less travelled by | shinso hitoshi x fem!reader — full length story — Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both. Two individuals take the road less traveled, a road with more hardships and difficulties, in order to achieve their seemingly unattainable dreams. status: pre-planning

untitled | remus lupin x oc — full length story, first book — The Scordato Famigila’s protective bloodline was rendered almost moot after the fall of Grindelwald, forcing their dwindling numbers to guard low-level politicians, stars, and whistleblowers. Natalia Scordato was sure that she would be the first Scordato to live through an era of peace...until the premonitions of a new dark wizard began. status: pre-planning

untitled | polyamorus hermione x original x draco — full length story, sequel — Nadia Scordato was fascinated by death — ever since [spoiler]. Leather-bound books in her arms and a history of secrets hidden within them, Nadia has to balance her feelings and her duty to the ones she loves. status: first draft, research

the season of soul | dramione — miniseries with a full background, first book — Hermione Granger finds herself reminiscing of her autumn encounters with one Draco Malfoy. PROMPT: The sights, smells, and sounds of autumn reminds me of him. status: first draft

the final [spoiler] | dramione — full length story, second book/continuation — Hermione recounts her first winter, spring, and summer with one Draco Malfoy status: pre-planned

smoke | dramione — When Draco Malfoy’s childhood friend is selected to participate in the deadly Triwizard Tournament, he is willing to do anything to protect the friend he once had…including working with Hermione Granger. INSPIRED BY: the tumblr post about Cassius Warrington being selected for the triwizard tournament status: pre-planned, on hiatus

understanding haywood | penny haywood x oc — full length story, thg au — Every year, on the anniversary of the Potters’ death, students from the three biggest European Wizarding Schools are selected to fight to the death in the forbidden forest. status: first draft, on hiatus

underneath the willow | catoniss — full length novel — A happenstance meeting, an odd moment of tenderness, and a world completely against them. When Katniss Everdeen is thrust into a battle to the death in an attempt to save her sister, she catches the eye of everone, including the dangerous killer Cato Hadley. status: first draft, on hiatus

the haunting of malfoy manor | dramione — full length novel, haunting of bly manor au —Harry Potter is dead. Forced into hiding, the remaining Order of the Phoenix members enter safehouses all across Europe. Narcissa Malfoy, Mistress of Malfoy Manor, opens her home to one person in particular — Hermione Granger. Darkness looms in even the brightest corners of the manor, nightmares and danger galore. Hermione is haunted from the deaths of her friends, feeling as though they follow her every where she goes. The Manor holds many secrets, some of which the whole of the wizarding world depends on their decoding. status: pre-planning

you, me, us | dani clayton x jamie — miniseries, the haunting of bly manor — Dani and Jamie had thirteen blissful, wonderful years together. It would never be enough, but it was more than worth it. status: on hiatus

the last of us | levi ackerman x oc, erwin smith x oc — miniseries, attack on titan, the walking dead au — With the increasing threat of the living dead, humanity has become scarce. A story of community, endurance, and learning to live rather than simply survive.

| Requested Works |

#wips

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clarkesrifle · 6 years

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Understanding Haywood - Chapter One

Summary; Living in a universe where Voldemort had never fallen, a new tradition forms in order to tame rebellion in the Wizarding Community. A total of forty-two children, ages eleven to seventeen, are forced to leave their homes and fight to the death on the anniversary of the death of the Potter family.

A/N; This chapter is currently unedited, so forgive any sort of mistakes that there may be. About halfway through I changed this from being a reader-centered story to an actual character story. Hopefully I got all of the leftover ‘you’s and ‘your’s! No Penny in this chapter, but she will be coming soon. This is just an introduction into this universe. I love you all, and I REALLY hope you like this story.

Dedications; @cinnamonriko, @existensial-trashcan, and @haywoodpennys

Warnings; N/A for this chapter

Word Count; 2,590

September 24th, 1989

That damned goblet.

It stood proudly in front of the long wooden table that housed the Professors during the meal times. Right now, where would usually be a blue-white flame, was just a cold stone rim. It wasn’t active, and it wouldn’t be until the first of October, but the sight of it still made Jade Chamberlain’s heart clench.

Was that his plan? To strike fear into the hearts of every single student in the school? Of course it was. Some people, most often the adults that worshiped the Dark Lord like a god, relished in the Tournament. The blood. The lives lost.

The Chamberlain family were some of those people. It was considered a great honor to participate, to die for his cause. It was even better to win for him. The winners would be given the greatest accolade — a specialized Dark Mark and a high ranking among Voldemort’s men.

And that terrified her.

Being apart of the Sacred Twenty-Eight meant that Jade grew up in an elegant party scene. Meetings of the most detestable people were covered in celebrations, and celebrations came from the most detestable things. Ever since the Tournament began, in her first year, she would come home to watch the violence surrounded by drunken adults that found it all glorious. It was almost a tradition.

The one that traumatized her the most, the one that made Jade finally view the tournament as something to be abhorred, was the one her elder brother, Onyx, had participated in. He was only in his fourth year, he wasn’t supposed to be there.

Their father had made rules for the pair; study, keep to yourself, and prepare. Life had admittedly been lonely, with few friends more enemies to count. Onyx had been her only friend, her greatest friend.

Seeing him fight to survive broke the young girl's heart, and Jade felt herself breathe a sigh of relief when he killed his final opponent, as horrible as was to admit. And then he was home.

But he wasn’t home. He was somewhere else. He was different.

He snapped more, he locked himself in his room and no silencing spells could hide his screams. His family, besides his worried sister, didn’t care though — he was the very first winner of the tournament, he brought an amazing honor to their house. But soon after whatever fame was attached to her name would be stripped away.

The night before he was meant to take his mark, Onyx disappeared.

Soon, it will be seven years since then.

Seeing that goblet only reminded her of that fact.

The person on her left, Rowan Khanna, poked her ribs lightly in an attempt to get the taller girl’s attention. “You’ve barely eaten.” It was more of a statement than a comment. She was right, though. But that didn’t matter, because her stomach felt as though it couldn’t handle the slightest bit of food, even the smell of the hot chicken in front of her made Jade feel the need to vomit.

“Just not feeling it,” she whispered, leaning her long arms onto the table. Rowan simply rolled her eyes.

“You haven’t been ‘feeling it’ for the past three days now. Your body will start to shut down if you keep at it.” A few moments pass and Rowan looks at her friend with worry. “It’s your brother, isn’t it?” Of course it was, the months leading up to October were filled with anxiety and sadness for the pureblooded witch.

Onyx wasn’t dead, Jade knew. She would have felt his death reverberate in her heart. But he was gone, somewhere that most likely wasn’t safe. She wondered if the boy she looked up to with all of her soul was at the very least somewhere warm, healthy.

Sometimes on days like this when her brother filled her thoughts, she would imagine him living somewhere secluded, perhaps somewhere in America, with a family of his own. For his sake, she hoped that was true.

Jade simply shrugged, and felt hot tears brim behind her eyelashes. Rowan had seen these moments more than anyone else, she was the only other person that she had told about her brother, how he was missing. How he was disgraced.

She held Jade then, and right now she laid a comforting hand over her friend’s and squeezed. In that moment, Jade was so grateful for breaking her father’s rules, all those years ago. His plan had been to keep her isolated, so she could focus solely on her training without any distraction.

But Rowan had pushed.

And there was never a day where Rowan regretted that action.

“It’s just one more year. One more year, and you never have to remember those bad memories ever again.” Another squeeze, and Rowan let go. Jade wanted to believe her — she really did — however deep down, she knew that being apart of the bigger world of Voldemort’s following, a world that Rowan was lucky enough to never know well, meant that the Triwizard Tournament would be apart of her life until the day she died.

But Jade didn’t say that. Her friend looked so hopeful, how could she crush that?

Instead, she gave a genuine half smile and leaned back as the plates and food vanished back down to the kitchens. “Do you think your family has another wood sample on the way today?” Jade excitedly questioned when she saw the vast amount of owls flying into the room. “We have to replace some of the Gryffindor brooms with our handmade models again.” The brooms that the pair made couldn’t fly, of course. It was just entertaining to watch the players scramble at the beginning of a match. They never understood why their brooms wouldn’t take off.

“Doubtful, my parents are being pressured to give all of the wood we have to You-Know-Who and his followers.” Rowan shrugged. “Something about finishing up preparations for the Tournament this year.”

Hmph. How strange, Jade thought. The Dark Lord must be planning something decently large to need all of the available wood from the Kannah’s tree farm. Owls rushed by quickly, dropping their packages and letters quickly before running off.

Hjordis was a different kind of owl. The brown spotted True owl would always beg for a quick bit of affection before soaring back to the Owlery. Gracefully she swooped down, landing gently on Jade’s shoulder and letting out a happy chirp.

A smile crossed Jade’s otherwise saddened features as she reached up and pet the bird’s beak. “Hello, old friend.” The True owl nuzzled her shoulder like a cat before reaching it’s foot out. A small piece of parchment was tied down to it, so small that it couldn’t contain more than a sentence or two at the most.

It was odd, you weren’t expecting any sort of note. It couldn’t have been from your family — your mother most often wrote to you, using overly elegant words that detailed how the Chamberlain business was going, and her letters were always longer than two sheets of parchment. “Thank you, Hjordis.” Quickly you untied the slip of paper, inspecting it before letting out a great sigh. Passively you handed it to Rowan, who no doubt was dying with curiosity.

“‘Your presence is requested in the Headmaster’s office following dinner.’” Rowan’s caramel eyes widened before hurriedly whispering, “What have you done?”

Jade laughed a slight bit, “I’m offended that you think I’d done any mischief.” For a moment, her friend seemed sorry, but then she realized all who she was talking to.

“We were just talking about how we vandalized the Gryffindor quidditch brooms.”

“Point taken.” Jade chuckled to herself, before taking the note back. “It’s McGonagall’s handwriting. She’s not my head of house, if I had done anything wrong, it would be Old Sluggy’s.”

The tanned girl looked over the note one more time, seemingly agreeing with Jade’s deduction. “If you haven’t done anything wrong — which I doubt you haven’t, it’s just a matter of being caught —.” Jade lightly kicked her friend’s boot as they teased each other. “Then what could it be?”

One way to find out, she thought. Standing up and straightening her tie, Jade noticed how empty the hall looked as people stood up and left, chattering amongst themselves. “Meet me back in the Head dorms in an hour, okay?” Rowan simply nodded and stood, wishing her best friend good luck.

Over the summer, The Dark Lord himself presented Jade with the golden badge, another way of keeping her under his thumb. Every month, she would have to personally report to him about the status of students in the school, including reporting any sort of uprising within the student body. He was determined to not have another deserter.

This meeting, she could only assume, would be one of those days. Her stomach filled with dread as she pushed past the giant doors and walked into the hall. Her classmates walked in every direction, and despite the fact that few people were headed in the same direction as her, Jade felt claustrophobic.

Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that she was about to face the very man that fueled her nightmares.

His presence, which Jade had gotten somewhat used to, was feasibly the most terrifying thing one could ever live through. Voldemort himself was a handsome man — with black hair and dark brown eyes, he was considerably charming. It didn’t surprise Jade that he was a powerful man, however the skill it took to manipulate those around them didn’t equal being a good leader.

Jade supposed he was a very insecure man. He led through terror, intimidation — hardly the workings of a good, confident leader. In some ways, it felt as though his mind, although intelligent and beyond others his age, had not aged from adolescence.

Tom Riddle was very often quick to anger, willing to slay anyone who he felt withheld anything from him.

Her footsteps echoed along the hall, each quick thump of her feet matched her anxious heart. Two floors up, a movement of staircases. Jade’s heart pounded harder and faster as she moved closer to the Headmaster’s office. She could imagine that at one point, before the first wizarding war, Hogwarts had been so beautiful and lively.

All it felt like now was dark.

The Stairwell Gargoyle which protected the Headmaster’s office, was considerably ugly. It was carved of stone, with great wings expanding from its back. Once, Jade and Rowan had been sitting in the Gargoyle Corridor (after they had, to Rowan’s chagrin, been kicked out of the library after setting off a stink bomb) studying for a rather important assignment in Transfiguration. As Rowan listed off the many facts and features of the statue, the stone monolith shifted and extended its great wingspan before shaking out its feathers.

“Did you know about that?” Jade had asked her friend who had gone silent.

Shocked, intrigued, and awestruck, Rowan simply mumbled, “Not in the slightest.”

Now, years later, the Chamberlain girl stood in front of that god-awful statue wringing her hands. “Infusion of Liliacae,” Jade conjured confidence and assurance in her voice. The statue bowed its head and stepped aside revealing the stairway up to the office.

One by one, Jade walked up the stairs, hearing her heart pumping in her ears. A deep breath. Raising a shaking hand to knock on the door, she found herself interrupted before her hand could touch the wooden entrance.

“Come in, Miss Chamberlain.”

Snape’s voice was a very commanding one, deep and in some ways soothing despite how terrifying the man could be. Jade’s relationship with the former professor was a rocky one.

Jade pushed the door open, revealing the dark room. The only source of light was the crackling fire in the corner that made things swelteringly hot.

Taking in another deep breath and willing herself to talk to the Headmaster’s chair, which faced away from her. Tom loved to sit in that chair. Perhaps it was about the previous Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

“My Lord, I —” A hand was raised and the chair swiveled back around.

“He is not here, Miss Chamberlain.” Jade gave a great sigh of relief as she saw Snape looking back at her. “Take a seat,” he gestured towards the two leather chairs in front of his desk. Thank Merlin, she thought as she approached the desk. Professor McGonagall sat in the chair on the left, and Jade quickly took notice at the glimmer of sadness in her eyes.

As she sat she looked around at the room — dark artifacts and books lined the great walls, and what once held the portraits of war heroes and previous Headmasters, now held famous dark wizards, the largest of which was a great painting of Tom Riddle.

Tom’s eyes watched Jade with great interest, a harrowing smile gracing his sharp features.

“You may be wondering why we have requested your presence here today,” the old transfiguration professor spoke, her voice gentle and teary.

Jade furrowed her eyebrows. Why was McGonagall so emotional? “Is something wrong, Professor?” Once more, worry filled her stomach. Minerva and Jade had formed a special bond over these past seven years, so much so that Jade would spend much of her holidays drinking tea with Minerva and her wife, under the allusion to her parents that she was receiving extra lessons.

In truth, Minerva was like a mother to her.

She was everything a mother should be. Her own mother was so focused on planning parties and serving Voldemort himself. McGonagall was perhaps the strongest person she had ever known.

So seeing her so heartbroken scared her. “My child,” McGonagall grabbed Jade’s hand and squeezed. “oh, I am so sorry.” Tears glistened in her eyes and threatened to fall past her lashes.

Jade looked at Snape, who seemed cool and collected, betraying no emotion. “Headmaster, what’s going on?”

He adjusted his cufflinks on his robe, placing his hand on his chin. “I am afraid that your parents have bought your way into the Triwizard Tournament.”

The room was silent. Even the sorting hat in the corner had no words of condolence. No, she thought. They wouldn’t do that to me. Deep down though, Jade knew the truth. Of course they would — her parents were obsessed with returning to grace in the eyes of the Dark Lord.

She just hadn’t realized that they would go so far as to sacrifice their last child to do so. “No,” Jade whispered. “Please tell me you’re joking.” Frantically she looked to the older woman. “Professor?”

Tears came crashing past her barriers, flooding down her cheeks and dripping onto her robes. “Please,” Jade whispered so breathily that it was barely audible. Minerva shook her head. It was true.

Jade stood up and ripped her hand out of her mentor’s, but she didn’t make it far before collapsing onto the marble floor, her chest wracking with sobs. Minerva quickly rushed to the girl, holding her tightly and crying lightly with her. “You’ll get through this,” Minerva mumbled into her hair. “You need to win this.”

She wouldn’t win.

The heartbroken girl knew that in her soul.

Her parents, the people that were meant to love her and protect her from this cruel world, the people that were supposed to hold her tightly, to ease her nightmares, the people who were supposed to teach her about life and love, had just signed her death warrant.

And that hurt more than anything else.

#penny haywood #penny Haywood imagine #penny Haywood fic #penny Haywood fanfiction #hogwarts mystery #Harry Potter Hogwarts mystery #harry potter #fic #fanfic #imagine #understanding haywood #uh

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clarkesrifle · 6 years

Text

Firewhisky Tears - Penny Haywood x Reader

Summary; Penny and the reader have been at odds for years now. However, after a bad encounter with Merula Snyde leaves you bloodied and defeated, you figure out that Penny Haywood isn’t as bad as you once thought.

Word Count; 2,561 words

Warnings; Some references to abuse in the household, underage drinking, some nudity however is completely SFW

A/N; Hi! This is my first time writing on this blog, and I am so excited to interact with everyone. Thank you so much for giving me a chance, and I hope that you enjoy my one-shot. This could eventually turn into a series if you guys like it. I take requests for any sort of story, and as of right now this story is unedited, so forgive any mistakes if there are any. I wrote this at four in the morning. This is my first Penny Haywood fic/imagine

Penny Haywood was absolutely, annoyingly, bloody perfect, and you hated her for it.

Everyone adored the blonde, even the fucking birds stopped to chirp at her. Her smile could earn more points than any immaculate potion you brewed or spell you performed, and it made your blood boil. Your family took your failures even harder.

Your father meant well, perhaps. But that didn’t change the fact that you flinch whenever a sudden noise reverberates in the air. Your family name had long since been disgraced with your family’s involvement with the Dark Lord - although your services had not come willingly, it had not stopped the ministry from stripping your father of his wand.

You had met him, once.

A handsome and charming face covered the horror that was Tom Riddle, who appraised you and said that someday, you would be a fierce witch and an asset to his side. Even then, as a tot, you hadn’t wanted anything to do with the man but the look in his eyes made it feel as though he could read every thought that crossed your mind.

And then He had fallen. Defeated by a babe and you sighed a breath of relief. Maybe there was nothing to fear after all — perhaps he was all bark but none of the bite. As soon as you thought your greatest nightmare was long gone, the trials began.

Your father had been lucky enough to stay out of Azkaban, the wizarding prison that was not above torturing it’s residents, but was completely emasculated by being forced to watch his trusty wand snapped to pieces. It was the worst thing a wizard could go through, it was almost akin to losing a limb.

He had quickly grown more and more angry. The patriarch often took his frustration out on your mother, but Gods forbid whenever his fury was pointed towards you. He grew obsessed with the idea of bringing back the glory to your family name, and the only person that ever stood in front of making him proud, was a certain blonde.

Merula Snyde had been particularly cruel this year. In the six years you’ve been at Hogwarts, yourself and Merula had a tempestuous relationship, with ups and downs more dramatic than a Quidditch match. You had to admit, she was a worthy adversary. You both forced each other to be better at dueling and constantly winded up in the hospital wing because of the other, but even she was more tolerable than Penny Haywood.

Today you found yourself bloodied and broken, but you opted out of visiting Madam Pomfrey (as much as you enjoyed her company, you did fancy winning the cup this year, and Felix had already gotten onto you enough for losing points in Potions that morning).

Instead, you smuggled the bottle of Firewhisky gifted to you by Bill the previous year for your birthday into the Prefect bathroom. Your father had nodded his head towards you and gave the slightest smile — the first you’d seen in years — when he had seen the golden badge arrive with Hjordis, your owl. Ever since getting your first taste of affection, you craved more, and you couldn’t do that by constantly getting in trouble with your superiors.

“Again, Ma’am?” Boris the Bewildered looked to you with a small look of pity. The stone statue moved freely, looking down at the girl who looked so small now. You sneer, tears pricking your eyes as you look back up at the man.

You motion to Boris’ hands. “Judge once you figure out how to put on gloves, sir.” The stone gloves were backwards, on the wrong hand. You had hoped to wipe the look of sadness from his face, but it only made him feel worse for you.

“In dueling, such as in life, there is not always a need to be on the attack.” His voice was soft, so soft and kind that you forced yourself to look away from him in guilt. “It is perfectly okay to cast a defense, be it mental…” he paused, and gently poked next to the gash on your forehead. “or physical.”

A moment passed and you heard Boris shift back into his still state. You breathed again, and quickly shuffled inside the bathroom and closed the door.

Click, went the lock and you pressed your back against the wooden door. The bathroom was ridiculously large with a bath that looked more like a swimming pool than a place to wash. One side was lined with multiple stalls, directly across from it was a long mirror that covered floor to roof. Finally, the wall opposite from the door could be charmed to look like any environment that the user wanted.

Unceremoniously you removed your shoes and threw them on the marble floor behind you as you walked towards the bath, flinching as your bare toes touched the cold. The taps (there had to be hundreds of them) confused you the first time you came into the Prefect bathroom, but now you found yourself at least somewhat comfortable with the jewel-top taps. You leaned down and turned the clear jewel and watched as water poured out. You could vaguely remember Rowan telling you that the water is charmed to always be the perfect temperature depending on the person.

And right now, that meant that the water was so hot the steam made your shirt stick to your body within minutes.

Loosening your green tie, you moved onto the purple gem, turning it and watching as a series of bubbles filled the water and floated upwards onto the ceiling before popping. With a flick of your wand, lit candles appeared around the room and the lights turned completely off, so that the only source of light were the candles that hovered in the air.

The shirt was next to go and you pulled your hair up into a bun to keep it from getting wet. The shirt, which had been white just hours before, had bright splotches of blood covering it. Pulling the Firewhisky out from your pant line, you placed it down onto the marble.

The green gem. The smell of vanilla and pine trees fill the room quickly and tears flow freely. Pain ebbed in more now as adrenaline left your system and it was getting harder to move. The rest of your uniform came off gently as you winced and groaned and slowly slipped yourself into the hot water, which filled the tub to its capacity and the taps shut off without so much as a squeak.

The soap burned your wounds but eventually it faded into a slight sting. Your muscles, which Merula had cleverly frozen with a body-bind jinx, were stiff and sore and relaxed in the water. You sat on the seat of the bath, which made it so that the tops of your shoulders were above the bubbles and exposed to the cold air.

It was too much. The pressure from your father, the desperation the please him…you almost couldn’t breathe. So instead, you uncap the liquor and take a large swig.

Were your tears from the burning of the whisky or the pressures of your life?

It didn’t matter.

You didn’t care.

You were so lost in your thoughts and drowning in the fiery taste of alcohol that at least made you feel something that you —

“It’s never good to drink on an empty stomach,” a delicate voice called. Quickly you turned around, subconsciously covering the parts of your body that weren’t even visible in the first place. Before you, watching you with curious blue eyes, was the girl that made your stresses even worse, Penny Haywood.

“I thought I had locked the door,” you say without any emotion, placing the bottle back on the floor. Penny nodded, pushing her back off of the wall and coming closer to you. She pulled off her shoes and dipped her toes into the bath.

“You had,” she confirmed, and looked towards the enchanted wall. You had made it look like a beautiful forest, the green on the leaves so vibrant that it calmed you. A deer slowly walked across the wall, bending down into a stream and sipping for a moment. “Interesting,” she said.

“What is?” You didn’t even look at her.

��I didn’t think someone that could be so volatile had a quiet side.” Penny teased, chuckling at you. You simply shrugged in response, picking up your bottle and taking a small sip this time. And then, after a moment of consideration, she held out the glass for Penny to take.

The blonde looked surprised at the gesture. You look at her, taking in her soft expression and laughed gently. Bitterly, you mumbled, “Even the daughters of former death eaters are raised to have manners.”

Penny scoffed. “It’s not that.” She attempted to reassure you. “It’s just…” she took a moment to consider her words. “you haven’t exactly extended a kindness to me in these past six years.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought that there was a small tinge of sadness in her voice.

Of course there isn’t, you scoffed.

“Then why spy on me whilst I bathe? Hardly took you for the peeping type.” You teased, a small crooked smile crossing your face as you nudged her knee with your shoulder. Penny snorted, and mumbled something under her breath that almost sounded like you wish. But she took the firewhisky nonetheless, and perhaps it was the alcohol running through your blood, but you found yourself especially aware of how her fingertips lightly grazed your knuckles as she grabbed the glass.

Definitely the alcohol.

Much to your astonishment, Penny took a hearty swig before placing the bottle down to the right of her.

“I followed you,” she started, leaning down onto the ground. “because you were hurt. How was I supposed to know you were coming in to take a bath? You hadn’t brought any spare clothes, just a bottle of liquor and a trail of blood behind you.”

You let out a hmm. “The door was locked, Haywood.” You looked at her again with a smirk on your face as it dawned on you. “You care.”

Penny kicked at the water and splashed you. “Hardly,” she crossed her arms. “I could still dock points for drinking on campus, you know.” She sat up and looked at you with slight humor in her eyes. An awkward silence enveloped the two girls and it almost felt like the conversation had reached an awkward end.

You almost expect to hear the door open and close when Penny stands up, but surprisingly, she returns with a conjured rag in hand. Whispering a barely audible Come here, Penny steps completely into the bath, sitting on the ledge with you.

“Your clothes…” you almost pitifully whisper, making a bright smile cross Penny’s face.

Fuck.

Even her smile is perfect.

Dipping the white rag into the bath, Penny carefully pressed the cloth to your forehead and you couldn’t help but wince. You pull your legs up to your chest gently, suddenly thankful for deciding to add bubbles tonight.

You couldn’t help but notice how focused she looked right now. Her tongue lightly pushed past her lips and stuck out. Bright blue orbs were staring intently at your forehead, and you couldn’t help but think, Were her eyes always so pretty?

“Why are you helping me?” The words barely pass your lips, but Penny hears them nonetheless and pauses.

A beat passes.

“I don’t know.” Penny dips the bloodied cloth back into the water and returned to cleaning your wounds. “But I do know that you don’t deserve the pain.”

You scoff. “I don’t have pain.”

“Then why do you cry when you think no one sees?” Suddenly you grow angry. She doesn’t know you, who does she think she is?

Why is she so right? Your anger quickly dissipates and now you’re left alone with a pretty girl sitting in a bath with you, a girl you’re supposed to hate. “I envy you.” You finally speak again after a silent moment. This surprises her.

“Everything comes so easy for you,” you say. But you don’t sound angry. You sound defeated. “Everyone loves you, you’re the top of every class.” Resting your chin on your knees, you can’t even look Penny in the face anymore. “My father…hates me because of you.” You hate to admit it, but it’s true. It hurts to say, because despite all of his failings, you love him. “All he wants is for me to make a name for myself, for our family…to get rid of our association with the Dark Lord. And then you come along and make it impossible. Being top of my class means nothing if I tie with someone else.”

You speak faster and faster to the point where it becomes hard to breathe, tears run down your face and everything hurts and you can feel your stomach clench because all you want is to be a good daughter but —

She kisses you.

And just as soon as her lips were on yours, she pulls away, and almost subconsciously you try to follow her before you pull back again. Your face turns completely red.

“Oh,” is all you can say.

“You were having a panic attack.” Penny looked just as confused as you do.

“Oh.”

“Was that your first kiss?” She asked you.

Bewildered and even more embarrassed, your face turns maroon. “Well, gee, was it that obvious?” You almost laugh at how awkward you feel and bury your face in your hands.

Penny laughs aloud, you can’t even stop yourself from thinking about just how beautiful it sounds. “No, it’s just…I’ve never seen you have a boyfriend…” a pause, a hesitation. “or a girlfriend?” Penny almost sounds hopeful here.

You look up and shrug. You hadn’t had the time, and although it did sometimes bother you that you had only a handful of friends, your busy schedule hadn’t allowed you to do anything about it. “Never had the time.”

“Well,” now Penny sounds awkward. “How would you like to be friends with me?”

Another beat. In the six years as classmates, this was the first time you had ever seen the most popular girl in your year be nervous. You smile. Genuinely smile. “I’d like that, Haywood.” She nods gently, and like she had when she first made herself known, she pushed herself up and, instead of coming towards you, she walks away this time.

Shoes in one hand, the bottom half of her dripping water onto the floor, she pauses at the door. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” you say. “And Penny? Don’t think that just because we’re friends now means that I’m gonna go easy on you in class now. I’ll still match you point for point.”

Throwing her head back with laughter, her face practically lights up the whole room. “I wouldn’t expect it any other way.”

And then the door closes and you’re alone again.

But instead of feeling so lonely, your lips are on fire and tingling. There is no sadness in the air, but the feeling of a new beginning. You touch your lips and laugh.

Penny Haywood is absolutely, annoyingly, bloody perfect.

And pretty soon, you would love her for it.

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