#he definitely keeps breaking out because his face is near a cauldron all the time.... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ronsonlywhore · 3 years

Note

Draco Malfoy and Exist For Love by Aurora

❛ 𝗲𝘅𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲. ❜ draco malfoy x reader

summary: you lay your head on his shoulder, and in that exact moment draco feels like he lives for nothing else except you. like he exists for nothing else except love.

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of murder and poisoning, drinking

a/n: oh to slow dance to this song with a lover at 3 am...any volunteers? / this songfic was written for my mini 200 follower celebration!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

in draco’s eyes, you were heavenly; the true definition of an angel gifted to earth from the gods above and, like all gifts, he cherished and treasured you like his life depended on it.

loving you was like flying: exhilarating and always leaving him breathless. draco had never felt like this before; his heart knew that he couldn’t. to him, love was something he could admire, something he could long for, but never something he could have for himself. it just wasn’t in a malfoy’s nature to openly devote yourself to someone the way he wanted to devote himself to you.

and he loathed his own name for it.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

your touch was electrifying.

your hands had only grazed his for a moment while passing him an empty cauldron, your fingers there then gone, but those few seconds were enough to have draco floating on a cloud for the rest of the day.

he would never be able to explain the way you made him feel.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

draco felt like he was going to be sick.

“are you okay, malfoy? you look a little pale,” you ask worriedly as draco considers making a run for it. next to you, your friend giggles and murmurs, “malfoy’s always pale, (y/n).”

draco hears a yelp of pain from your friend, you having elbowed her harshly in the ribs. he finally gets the courage to look you directly in the eyes, the same eyes he dreams about, the same eyes that put the entire galaxy to shame.

you’re looking expectantly at him, your friend poorly trying to hold in her laughter. the fact that she’s probably silently judging him sparked something in draco. what was he cowering from? he was a malfoy, and besides, the worst thing you could do was say no.

“iwaswonderingifyoueverwantedtostudyinthelibrarywithmesometime?” draco mumbles. his throat feels dry and he can feel his heart beating in the pits of his stomach; he’s having a hard time swallowing. tongue-tied...that’s another thing he can add to the list of things you cause him to be. not that he keeps one, or anything.

you tilt your head to the side, exposing your neck to the red-orange glow of the sun. draco can’t help but let his eyes trail down your throat and over your collarbone, desperately trying to imagine what it would feel like to ghost his lips over your smooth skin, or breath in your sweet scent, the scent he’s smelled so many times before in his amortentia potion…

“malfoy? malfoy?”

draco breaks out of his trance, cheeks blazing as you say, “i’m sorry, er, i didn’t catch what you said about the library.”

“oh,” draco falters out. if he wanted to chicken out and never attempt to speak to you again, now would be the time to do it. no, he thinks. he promised himself he would go through with this.

he takes a deep breath and tries again, slower this time, “i just...i was wondering if you ever wanted to study with me in the library?”

“oh, are you looking for a tutor?”

your friend finally bursts out laughing, holding her charms book close to her chest in doing so. you ask her what she finds so funny, and she answers, “don’t you see, (y/n)? he’s asking you out.”

you look back to draco, eyebrows raised. “asking me on a date? to the library?”

draco quickly backs away, thinking about how horrible this idea was. why did he ever believe he had a chance with you, the living embodiment of pure bliss?

“never mind. it’s stupid, i know,” he mutters dejectedly as he walks off, planning to find a deep hole he can crawl into and never emerge from again.

he feels a hand on his shoulder and turns around, his eyes meeting yours once more; the same eyes that carry the universe all at once, the same eyes that the sun envies with all her might.

draco can hardly believe the words that come out of your mouth next.

“no! no, i think that sounds quite nice, actually,” you say as you pull back your hand. his skin burns at your touch, and aches when it’s gone.

“you do?” draco asks, surprised and not taking notice of your friend rolling her eyes behind you.

you nod and smile, continuing, “how about this thursday after lessons?

all draco does is nod, not finding the right words to say.

“great! it’s a date, then.” you walk back towards your friend, saying cheerfully, “see you around, draco.”

draco. you had said his name.

mesmerized: another thing he can add to the list. but he definitely doesn’t keep one, or anything.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

“remember when you asked me out?”

draco groans and throws a balled-up piece of parchment towards you. “please, don’t remind me.”

you laugh and try to dodge the flying paper as draco goes back to his essay, his quill scratching against the sheet. you sigh, resting your chin on your hand; draco fights the urge to look up and get hopelessly lost in the mere presence of you.

“you came up to me and said...what was it again?” you say as you scoot closer to him. he feels your lips brush over his cheek, your warm breath fanning his face.

draco turns to face you just as you lean in, but before you can give him a proper kiss, he playfully pushes your face away gently.

“i will never forgive you for assuming that i needed a tutor,” he sniffs dramatically.

you pounce on him, right there in the middle of the library, and draco doesn’t care if everyone is staring or whispering; he lets you pepper kisses all over his neck, anyways.

“i thought i would be forgiven by now,” you whisper into his ear as you prop your chin on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his jaw.

“your apology is still being considered,” draco breathes out before catching your mouth in an amorous kiss.

your kisses always took the air out of his lungs. or maybe that was his body telling him he needed to breathe, and stat.

you and draco eventually go back to your studying, but draco’s far from focused now. you have invaded his mind, taken over his thoughts, so that now all he can see and feel is you: a peaceful oblivion he wants to emerge himself in for eternity.

draco thinks back to a year ago, when he was just contented with your eyes lingering a second too long on him, pleased at just being able to sit next to you in potions. now, he has you; not just your persistent stares or your polite smile. you.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

draco swallows back a bit of bile as he loosens his tie harshly, his fingers getting caught in the intricate knot doing so. his footsteps echo in the empty corridor, and he wipes beads of sweat from his forehead, cursing himself for forgetting to meet you at the lake. now you’ll definitely know something’s up.

he walks through the great hall doors, the soft breeze doing nothing to calm his tension. he had only passed by the hospital wing, had only gotten a glimpse of weasley lying on the bed, unconscious and senseless, but that was enough to set his nerves on a frenzy. he did that. he poisoned weasley, even if it wasn’t directly, even if he didn’t mean to.

he had also cursed katie bell with that wretched necklace. a vexed pendant that wasn’t even meant for her, a bottle of venomous bottle of mead that wasn’t meant to be drank by anyone except him: professor dumbledore.

as draco trudges down to the lake, he finally comprehends how real all of this suddenly feels. he can’t kill dumbledore; he can’t kill anyone. he could barely bring himself to imperio bell, could barely handle gifting that bottle to slughorn. how could he ever be capable of murdering someone and watching them fall dead in front of him?

he tries to compose himself as he nears your silhouette sitting at the edge of the lake, your knees brought up to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs. draco comes to a stop behind you, berating you in his head for being this careless.

“what have i told you about sitting around like this, (y/n)?” draco asks as he plops down next to you, hoping you didn’t hear that small tremble in his voice. you jump as you turn to him, glaring as you say, “you’re late. and it’s not like death eaters are just going to sneak into hogwarts in the middle of the night and take over. hogwarts is the safest place on earth.”

draco’s stomach churns when he realizes that’s exactly what will happen in approximately a week from now, thanks to him fixing that bloody cabinet. remember, you’re doing this for your parents, draco thinks. for her.

“the stars are shining brightly tonight, are they not?” draco hears you whisper as you take his hand and start tracing patterns on his palm.

“i suppose,” he answers, his mind still on his impossible task.

“my mother used to say the stars shone for me,” you say, choosing to outline different constellations on his hand.

draco smiles slightly and turns to look at you. “that’s because they do.”

you lay your head on his shoulder, and in that exact moment draco feels like he exists for nothing else except you. nothing else except love.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

“father used to say love was nothing but an illusion, something that could fill your heart up but leave it miserably empty.”

“love is anything but, draco...it can be so many things and nothing all at once.”

draco’s back itches from the tree bark scratching at his back, but he stays in the same position and sips from the bottle of firewhiskey, anyways. it was his idea, after all.

he stares at you watching the whomping willow sway in the distance, your hand loosely grasping your own bottle. you had only taken a few gulps of the alcohol, but you looked drowsy and dazed already, the liquor quickly taking effect.

draco doesn’t know if it’s the quiet buzz resonating through his body that makes him do it, but he still asks, “please do tell of all the things love can be, (y/n).”

“long answer or short one?”

“both.”

you sigh contentedly as he watches you bring the bottle to your lips, observing the way your throat moves while swallowing the whiskey. you breathe in deep, then start, “love is like stumbling through life all alone, just passing through the motions, and then that one person walks into your life and suddenly you feel like you’re living, you’re alive…and i’ve heard it’s a very wonderful feeling.”

you pause, take another swig, and continue, “love is like being torn apart the minute you were only born, but that one person is the only one that makes you feel whole and complete...your other half, you could say.”

it finally clicks in draco’s head that you are his ‘one person.’

“love is selflessness, and loyalty, and euphoria. love is fearlessness, and spirit, and earnestness. love is the center of everything but also the center of nothing; we revolve around it but it also revolves around us.” you sigh, this time catching your breath.

draco can’t keep it from you anymore, not after what you told him everything that love could be, what love should be, what love will be.

“is love not keeping secrets?” he murmurs.

“yes, i suppose love is honesty, as well,” you answer back.

he responds to that by pulling back his sleeve and revealing his dark mark in its full, horrid glory. your eyes widen as you scramble back from him, your grasp on the bottle slipping and rolling away in the grass; draco’s heart drops as he realizes you’re scared of not only the mark embellished into his skin, but of him as well by default.

“what did you do?” you whisper, horrified.

“the dark lord was threatening my family...he was threatening to kill you, i had to!” draco’s voice breaks just a little bit; he prays to the gods that you’ll believe him, hopes you’ll see his reasons.

you don’t.

draco’s father was right; love can fill your heart, but only for a little while before leaving it miserably empty..

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

draco’s mother is calling him over, and everyone turns to look at him with judging stares or pitiful expressions. even the dark lord is looking expectantly at him.

harry potter is dead. now everyone will have to choose their sides.

across the destroyed courtyard he can see his father glaring at him. he really doesn’t want to walk over there, doesn’t want to declare his loyalty to them, but what can he do? he has no one to live for on this side, no one to live for him.

he takes a deep breath and starts maneuvering the crowd, walking towards his parents. it feels more like walking into death’s open arms.

“draco.”

he stops, coming to a complete halt. he hasn’t heard his name being spoken in that soft tone in a while. he turns around and you’re there, reaching for him, and he can’t focus on anything except you. you say his name again, and it feels like white horses gliding over the waves or a rushing ocean in his veins.

“love is sacrifice, too,” you whisper.

draco doesn’t walk to his parents. he chooses to stay with you instead.

you, the one person who makes him feel alive and whole. you, the one person he exists for.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

taglist:

@gwlvr @eunoniaa @grungeb3tch @skaratjung @miraclesoflove @yumicloudshp @1800-SHUTUP @inglourious-imagines

if you want to be added to my taglist, fill out the form here

270 notes · View notes

sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years

Text

Monstrous Secrets Chapter 8

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 1720

Summary: You and a couple of the guys have a heart-to-heart

You were home, or rather, you were in the physical place where you lived. It was difficult to call Velaris ‘home’ when your home was really a person, your mate. It was even harder to call this place home since Azriel started looking at you like he wanted to spit on you at any given moment. You’d expected to be treated that way once everything came to light, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t loathe it with every fiber of your being.

It was in a fit of this general discontent that you found yourself sitting on the ground of the balcony outside the House of Wind’s library. A bottle of wine, half empty already based on the weight of it, dangled from your fingertips as you stared blankly into the fire and longed for the male that could make such flames dance like sprites. Eris’s notes from your time apart rested on the ground before you, some resting against or on your leg because you’d simply dropped them after reading.

“Cass told me I’d find you here,” Rhys said as his feet entered your field of view. “Though I’ll admit I thought he was exaggerating how much you’d been drinking.”

Your eyes darted over to the other two, empty bottles you’d abandoned back when you’d been sitting in a chair. “Yes, well, you know how my tolerance is.”

“Considering how many men you’ve drunk under the table? Yes, I’m fully aware.” Now, he brought himself low enough that he could meet your eye on your own level. The most powerful High Lord, kneeling beside his low fae cousin on the ground.

You snorted at the sheer ridiculousness. “Whatcha doing here, Rhys? I figured you’d be off with Feyre.”

“She had things to discuss with Amren or else she’d be here talking to you with me.”

You took another drink. “Well in that case, lay it on me.” Your arms spread wide dramatically, one hand holding the bottle, the other a letter; your wings flared slightly behind you in an effort to keep you balanced. “Ask me anything you want! I assume it’s about that gorgeous mate of mine.”

He rolled his eyes and took the bottle from you. “I won’t insult you bya skiing what Azriel wants me to.” Rhysand took a long drink.

“Oooooh, let me guess!” You did your best to make your face as stoic as the shadowsinger’s. “Have I been selling secrets to the Autumn Court?”

“Close,” he snickered. “Has she been giving away secrets to the Autumn Court?”

You scoffed. “As if I’d give them away for free!”

“Sweetheart, you’d never spill them either way.” His eyes were somber, caring. “You would never betray us like that, so I have no need to ask.”

“Then what do you need to ask?”

“First, I want to ask about your bargain.”

“You makin’ sure I didn’t give away anything important?”

“I want to know that it was your choice to make whatever deal it was.”

Your brain stalled out in light of his genuine concern after so many days of people being wary of you, and your buzz fizzled a little because of it. “It was a deal of protection,” you explained seriously. “He’ll watch my back as long as I watch his sort of thing.” You stole back the bottle to take another drink. “And what a fucking job I did.”

“You couldn’t have done anything against her,” he assured you, “and if you had tried, more likely than not, you’d both be dead right now.”

“Whatever, Rhys,” you scoffed. “What else?”

“You are not less than him because you’re Illyrian.” You’d known the topic was coming, but you didn’t expect him to be quite so blunt. “And if he treats you like you are, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Then you can stop worrying, because he doesn’t. Hasn’t even said anything to imply it--get that look off your face right now. Anything he said to you was an act because we were backed into a nightmare of a corner, and you know it. Anyway, he hasn't made any jabs implying it--accidentally or otherwise--since we first got together.”

“Put a stop to that, did you?” He was smirking as he swiped the bottle back to drink once again.

“Of course.” You hesitated. “But he and I are both aware of what others will think; just look at your parents. That’s why, or at least part of why, we kept quiet about the whole thing.”

Rhysand was nodding as if pleased.

“That all you’ve got, cousin?”

A little snort escaped his nose. “As far as being concerned goes, we’ll say yes for now.”

“And as far as everything else?”

“Since you’ve so cruelly left your poor cousin in the dark about your relationship for--how long was it again?”

“‘Bout five hundred years--”

“Five hundred years! Because you've left me in the dark for so long, I want to know everything about the two of you.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” He waved a hand a little. “That you’re willing to share, of course.”

“Rhys . . . I don’t . . .” You weren’t used to this. You’d never had to share anything about your relationship before. You weren’t good at talking about yourself. “I don’t know where to start.”

A low hum rumbled through the air along with the telling thuds of someone else’s boots.

“Why don’t you start with that letter you’re holding?” Cassian abruptly dropped down next to you, so close he was lightly pressed against your side. It was such a casual closeness that the pair of you had had for centuries, and you didn't realize how much you loved it until it was missing. Its presence now brought tears to your eyes, but none fell.

Blinking them back, you stammered, “Um. It’s how we talked . . . when we couldn’t see each other.” A self-deprecating chuckle ripped its way up from your throat. “Apparently he’d been sending them since just after Amarantha, and I never knew since I don’t live down there anymore. I’m only just now getting around to reading them.” Carelessly, you handed it over to Cassian. “You can read it if you want; I was going through them all, but I can’t exactly see straight enough to read anymore.”

He eyed you warily before opening it gently. Clearing his throat before he read,

“I hope you are doing well, and I hope moreso that you have not finally come to your senses and decided to leave me. I’ve been trying to keep my emotions from bothering you in case you have, but Father has proven to be harsher than ever before in light of everything that has happened over the last half-century. It’s all I can do to keep him from deciding to hunt down Lucien.

Cauldron, I don’t even know if you’re receiving these messages or if you even care and yet here I am droning on about my own problems. I’ll leave this here, then.

I miss you, and I love you always,

Eris”

Both men were silent for a breath.

“Who would have thought that Eris Vanserra of all people would be so rambling in a letter?” Cassian eventually teased--only slightly awkwardly--to break the quiet.

“He stopped trying to be eloquent in our notes about five years in.” Your buzz was definitely on the way out now, and you found yourself listlessly leaning against Cassian. Neither male commented about the more romantic sentiments in the letter. You wondered why that was. For your privacy or their own comfort so they didn’t have to think about the fact that Eris did in fact have feelings.

“What’s the first thing you think of when you think about him?” Rhysand prompted quietly, obviously wanting to know more about the relationship despite the awkward aura that’d descended upon the little group.

It may have been because you were actively looking at a fire, but you didn’t really have to think about the words that came tumbling out of your mouth. “Did you know that he can make shapes out of flames? He used to make little dogs and foxes to play with Lucien when Beron would upset him.”

“I thought he hated that kid,” Cassian mused.

“He had to keep his distance to keep Beron’s attention away from him; he swore to his mother that he’d protect him.”

“What else comes to mind?”

You swallowed thickly. “He interrogated me about how to care for my wings when I showed up injured once.”

Rhys’s violet eyes flashed. “Injured?”

“Took a bad crash through some trees on the way to see him; I think I was dodging some scouts. Either way, he hounded me about it until I taught him all I could.”

“Seriously?” Cassian again.

“Yeah.” You could feel the dopey smile spread across your face, but you didn’t want to stop it. “Cleaning, first-aid, the whole deal. And the best part? He never has cold hands.”

“Unlike you, huh?” Rhys teased. “Nothing but cold hands.”

“Truer words never spoken,” and unexpected but familiar voice said from behind you.

As soon as you laid eyes on him, you were stumbling to your feet.

There was a warmth in his eyes that had nothing to do with flames when he caught you and pulled you close.

Immediately, you buried your face in his neck. “How?” you whispered into the pale skin there.

Eris’s hand moved to rest atop your wing where it was tucked against your back, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “That would be a question for your High Lady.”

You glanced over your shoulder and saw that, sure enough, Feyre was now holding hands with the now-standing Rhys. “I thought you were with Amren?”

“I lied,” Rhys shrugged. “Eris was down there plotting with Keir, so I asked her to go grab him for you since you’ve been feeling down.”

When tears started welling up in your eyes, you blamed the alcohol. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, little cousin. Now, I think it’s time for us to turn in.” His eyes shifted to look at your mate; surprisingly his gaze wasn’t near as icy as you would have expected. “Take care of her.”

“Until my dying breath.”

“Never a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with you people,” Cassian scoffed, “is there?”

You smirked on behalf of your husband. “Never.”

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra imagine #eris imagine #eris x reader #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses imagine #reader insert

104 notes · View notes

high-warlock-of-brooklyn · 3 years

Text

would things be easier if there was a right way? (honey there is no right way) (Ao3 link)

@thehuntersmoondiscord Masquerade Exchange for @valinphatombeliver (Hope you like it!)

Ships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood (Alternate universe: This World Inverted)

Summary: After that fateful party at the Institute, Magnus's magic is not the only thing that comes back. His soulmark feels alive again, and this time, Magnus is not alone.

Alec feels like an idiot, betting his heart like that, especially after the sting of an almost rejected soulmark pains him worse than a broken heart. So he does the only thing he knows the best, he throws himself into work.

Little do they know that the universe doesn't make mistakes, and will keep pulling them together till they both truly see the truth for themselves.

Alec feels sick.

He’s planned exactly one hundred seventy events in his career, big or small. He’s got a stellar reputation, his own party planner business, his schedule is booked for the next five months in advance, and he’s put the full deposit down for his own apartment in the middle of the city, all at the mere age of twenty seven.

And yet, every time, those words are like a punch to the gut he would never admit out loud to anyone. It’s his own fault, he supposes. That he has to hear it so many times in just a week. And that every time, it’s a false alarm.

Well, all but one.

This one seemed different. This one felt different. At least for Alec.

But then, at the end, another one bit the dust.

Isabelle had warned him, when he showed her the words the day after his eleventh birthday. She’d looked so sad when he first told her about the career he’s chosen. Alec never understood why, until he heard those words for the first time at the first ever event he planned, a small, intimate birthday party for a Manhattan socialite.

Check it again, I’m on the list.

It had felt like he’d been electrocuted, and Alec had dashed outside to the door as fast as he could, pulling down a tablecloth with him as he went, the groans and yells of the restaurant staff unheeded by his heart. But it had been the grandfather of the birthday girl, and a voice in Alec’s heart told him to wait a little bit longer for his soulmate.

That voice had died down entirely after his eighteenth event.

Until this evening at the party at the Institute. Until he felt compelled to let that man in. Until Magnus.

And now, standing here, helping his crew clean up after the party, Alec feels his guts twist in a flurry of emotions he is too tired to process.

Fuck this . He’s just put on the most unique and successful party the business world of New York has ever seen. He deserves a break.

Alec grabs a bottle of whiskey on his way out.

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

The first time the words appeared into his hands, Magnus didn’t understand them.

It had been in a strange script, the letters so different from the ones he’d only started to get acquainted with. But by then he’d been part of something stranger, and started to live with a green-skinned man with horns and white hair who called himself a ‘warlock’, and had told Magnus that he was one too. So knowing his soulmate might be from a strange distant land didn’t seem as jarring as it would have been.

Then he’d lived through times that would have seemed as dreams in his childhood. He’d lived through his travels in the wonderful country of Peru, then had fallen in love with Imasu knowing he wasn’t the one, and had gotten his heart broken. Axel hadn’t even given him a chance, and from what Magnus saw peeking out of the cuffs of his shirt, he’d already found his soulmate in the French court.

The words didn’t lose their effect through the centuries however. Every time he heard someone say ‘ what seems to be the problem? ’, Magnus could feel his pulse racing, his heart swelling, his mind going berserk at the possibility of being united with the one he’d been destined to be with.

It wasn’t the case any of the times. Often it was a Shadowhunter, trying to maintain their precious Law so that no so-called troublemaker Downworlders wouldn't disrupt the precious ‘peace’ they insisted on withholding. Sometimes it was a particularly demanding client, and Magnus delayed more just to piss them off.

One time though, it was a Mundane who came to his rescue to smooth things over when the guard at a bar took offense at Magnus’s general existence. Etta had been a beauty both inside and out, and Magnus had been genuinely happy for her when she left once she found her actual soulmate.

It didn’t make him sad to lose her. She was a friend more than anything else, and her story gave him hope to hold on longer.

After that there was Camille. A force to be reckoned with. Camille, with her sharp edges and sharper fangs. Camille, who made him believe in a love through the ages, only to be betrayed brutally. Camille, who he was ready to beg to so she’d come back to him. Camille, who never told him that her soulmate died the day she was turned, which Magnus found out on his own the day after she cheated on him. Magnus had felt hollow, and empty, and felt like a fool for holding on to hope.

The day he finally closed hell off permanently, he’d lost more than just his magic. Magnus had given up on hope entirely.

Then there was that one boy at a party Magnus wasn’t even invited to. Alec had said those words, looking at Magnus with eyes devouring every single aspect of him. Magnus had half expected himself to turn around and leave. But then Alec had surprised him, and made him come inside.

But then there was a demon attacking Clarissa and the blond boy, the first demon in almost a century. And Magnus had almost forgotten about the boy with those hazel eyes by the time he rushed home, magic singeing the inside of his coat pocket.

It must’ve not been meant to be, Magnus thinks as he nurses the same glass of Rosé for almost an hour, the once warm bathwater now running cold. He pauses for a moment, thinking carefully about what he’s about to do.

Magnus waves a finger, the movement graceless, halted. But the sparks come out anyway, the bathwater warming, turning light pink as Magnus focuses on summoning a bath bomb from his collection in the cabinet near the sink.

Magnus smiles. His soulmate doesn’t want to find him. But that’s okay. He’s got his magic.

Everything’s going to be just fine.

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

Alec is, most definitely, not doing fine.

“I need this banner yesterday.” Alec rubs his temple letting out a tired sigh, “I literally needed that last night so my team can finish setting up, and now you’re telling me it’s still not ready?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to tell you. Our primary printer caught on fire and we had to unplug all of them to manage the fire before it went out of hand, and all our orders were cancelled from the queue.”

Alec scrubs his face with the back of his hand, and groans, “My assistant put in the request almost two weeks ago. This is for a dinner party at a multinational company, Andrew. And as we both know, the one of the only things those people spend ridiculous amounts of money on is the banner. I can’t throw a party without one.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Lightwood.” Andrew’s smile is genuinely apologetic. “There’s really not much we can do. If it helps, there’s another customer in booth number three whose banner we were printing when it caught on fire, and he’s been on the list for almost over a month.”

“Eesh, poor guy.” Alec winces.

“Tell me about it.” Andrew tsks. “And he’s a really sweet guy too. Some customers throw a hissy fit if we’re ten minutes late in delivering a order they’ve put in maybe an hour ago, and he’s really understanding and patient. But it’s for his psychic shop and he’s checking in maybe the tenth time now. Kaelie was just telling me that we might lose that account for good. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Alec nods, then looks down as his phone pings with notifications from his team about going over swatch cards. “Andrew, is there nothing you can do? Is there no back alley super shady banner maker somewhere?”

“They make something vastly different than banners, Mr Lightwood.” Andrew chuckles good-naturedly, used to the antics of his long time customer. “Well, I could run to the place near 34th and Wilshire. My cousin works as a temp there. The price is way higher, but they can do a quick job.” Andrew taps away on his phone for a second. “Oh good, Artie says they’re open for another five hours at least.”

“Money’s not an issue.” Alec lets out a relieved sigh, and brings out his credit card. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know.” Andrew offers him a bright smile. “I’ll inform you as soon as it’s done.”

“Thank you.” Alec nods, before a thought flashes. “Oh, and, Andrew?”

“Yes, anything else, Mr Lightwood?”

“Yeah. I was thinking you could take the other guy’s order there too?” Alec jerks his head in the direction of the other booths in the shop, the silhouette of another customer visible through the blurry divider between the counters.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll ask him.” Andrew gets up to approach the man, but Alec stops him.

“Don’t tell him anything, just put the extra fee on my card.”

“But-”

“It’s okay,” Alec smiles.

Andrew shakes his head, his golden curls shaking with the motion. “You’re a good egg, Mr Lightwood.”

“Just paying it forward.”

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

The fire alarm goes off after the second time. Magnus groans as the noise threatens to invoke a migraine. At least he can use his magic to soothe it this time.

The same magic that caused the fire he’s been scrambling to put out for the past thirty seconds. For a small cauldron fire, the sparks are notoriously hard to douse. Being dormant for almost a century, and then suddenly trying to make a magical banner for his kinda-sorta psychic business would do that to a warlock’s magic, he supposes.

Maybe he should consult a spellbook or something. Only there’s no precedent for a banner making spell because graphic designed banners didn’t exist by the time magic was last used.

Well, first time for everything.

The doorbell rings, and Magnus sighs, trying his best to smooth down the no doubt wild hair he’s got from running his hand over and over through it. Pardon him, it’s been a very stressful day.

“Mr Bane? This is Sananda from the Banner Emporium. I have a delivery for you.”

The girl with a neon green streak in her braid hands him a large roll of paper, which Magnus holds up with more than a little difficulty.

“Sign here please.” The girl says, chewing gum disinterestedly. Magnus puts the banner down before taking the signing sheet.

“I thought the shop printer broke.” Magnus returns the sheet. “Did you guys fix it already?”

“No clue, I just work as delivery.” The girl shrugs. “My boss told me to make two deliveries only today, one to you and another to some party planner office. Guess they did some fixing, huh?”

Magnus smiles, tipping the girl a twenty. The girl offers a mock salute, and walks away humming the tune of a pop song. Magnus closes the door behind her, a smile slowly spreading on his face as he uncoils the banner.

Bane: Psychic and tarot card readings

It looks perfect. But Magnus doesn’t get long to marvel at it, because the phone rings. His old landline, which means only one person could be calling.

“Hello Ragnor.” Magnus answers, happy to talk to one of his oldest and closest friends after such a long time.

“Magnus, why didn’t you call me? I had to hear from Catarina that you might have met your soulmate?” Ragnor goes right to the point, tone accusatory.

Magnus takes comfort in the fact that while the whole world might change, Ragnor Fell, ever the a wonderful friend, never will. “I’m not even sure myself, how was I supposed to tell you? I’ve heard a thousand of those Ragnor, you know that better than anyone.”

“Still, Magnus.” Ragnor’s voice comes out tinny, “You don’t have to have the perfect relationship, because there is nothing like that in the world. All we can do is take a leap of faith, and hope that it’s not an abyss. But you have to keep taking that leap.”

“Why are you giving me relationship advice at what is supposed to be early morning at yours?” Magnus asks, eager to change the subject.

“Because I never needed mine, and I’m happy that way, yet I know how much you’ve waited for yours. One of these days, you’re going to have to seize the opportunity no matter what, and take a chance upon love.”

By the time Magnus hangs up, it’s been almost hours. Ragnor’s phones are a rare commodity, the warlock ever so averse of technology, and they do have almost three years worth of conversations to catch up on. Magnus is exhausted, and even though he hates admitting it, Ragnor is right. He could’ve stayed at that party, checked up on Clarissa and her boyfriend, made sure their memories didn’t resurface.

He could have stayed and danced with Alec too.

But he’s been so freaked out, he tells himself. He’s been out of his mind with worry for the demon attack and his magic and different worlds and his probably shoddy memory spellwork.

And maybe he’s also been afraid. Afraid that if he went after Alec, he’d risk everything, his life, his secrets, his meticulously prepared facade that he’s totally fine, especially with the explicit probability that he might not be Alec’s soulmate, even if Alec is his.

Ugh. Magnus scrubs his face with the back of his hand. What a mess this is.

Chairman struts his way into the drawing room, fresh up from a nap, and rubs his face into Magnus’s calf demanding pets. Magnus picks him up, scratching him under his chin. The cat purrs happily, and Magnus makes a decision.

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

“One honey macchiato with extra whipped cream please.”

Jace turns to see the man on the other side of the counter, a small frown on his face as he tries to place the face somewhere in his memory. Magnus shuffles from toe to toe, lips pinched together tensely. Jace regards him closely, and doubt rises in the back of Magnus’s mind.

Did he do a sloppy job?

It’s not an exact science, to be frank. Memory magic hardly ever is. It’s not quantifiable like potions, and definitely not by the book like a summoning. Memory magic is, at its root, intuitive. Blindly stumbling about in another person’s mind and hoping as hell that you didn’t erase some developmental memories.

And if anyone knows anything about Magnus, it is that he really isn’t a coffee man. Not anymore anyway. He used to be, once upon a bygone era, when waking up after a night of partying and starting the day with another bout of partying had to be connected with the help of a magically summoned cup of coffee. But those days are far gone, and Magnus mostly prefers his jasmine tea with a touch of honey. Which is why he came to Java Jace to check up on the blond. He’s no more his old self than his magic is controllable.

Still, he’d hoped that it would’ve come back like riding a bicycle.

That hope seems pretty bleak now, as Jace crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at the man in a white cardigan in front of him. “Is this his way of apologizing to me after he criticized my barista skill yesterday?”

“Uh….what?” Magnus asks confusedly.

“I told him that honey macchiato is my least ordered item and literally he’s the only one who orders it and that’s why I have to keep an entire thing on the menu, and get honey from the supermarket too.”

“Sorry, I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Magnus winces.

“Wait, you don’t know the Lightwoods, do you?” Jace nods gravely, “And I just accused a customer for no reason at all, what a dumbass I am.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Magnus waves it off.

“No, no, seriously. Sorry man.” Jace goes to make the drink with a practiced hand. “But I have to say, you seem awfully familiar. Did I see you somewhere before? Maybe in college?”

“Uhh….” Magnus chuckles nervously, panic rising steadily in his heart, “I don’t think so. Unless you went to school in Indonesia.”

“That’s a no. Born in London but grew up here.” Jace nods. “Sorry, I can just really picture you and Clary inside a basement, I was there too.”

“Um-”

“Oh god that sounded so creepy. I swear it wasn’t something weird or anything, I can just remember feeling really scared all of a sudden. Maybe I should stop drinking from my own shop, huh?”

Jace’s casual grin does nothing to soothe Magnus’s nerves, and he smiles along politely, and sends wisps of magic through the minute contact between them as the barista hands over his order. Jace jolts immediately, looks down, curling and uncurling his fingers over and over.

“Everything okay?” Magnus asks tentatively. Jace throws an unsure smile his way.

“Yeah, just, almost burnt my fingers I guess. Hazards of working in the food industry, right?” Magnus doesn’t answer, instead brings out his card to pay, till Jace claps his hands loudly. “I knew it! I knew I remembered you from somewhere.”

Magnus’s heart sinks faster than lead in water, and he racks his brain for any spell that could come in handy for a quick memory erasure. Except it’s been over two centuries, and his memory is definitely not what it used to be when he used magic regularly.

“You’re that psychic right? The one Luke went to? You know, Luke Greymark? He owns a bookshop on the crossing of 22nd and Richardson.”

A breath of relief punches its way out of Magnus, shoulders sagging visibly. “Yes, I remember him. He’s a very good man.”

“He is.” Jace nods. “He’s my girlfriend’s godfather, actually.”

“Oh.” That’s all Magnus says, afraid to shake the still brittle effects of his spell. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.”

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

“Dude, I almost lost a customer because of you today.”

“What?” Alec asks, half of his attention on his phone where his assistant’s been sending him swatches for their latest event. “No no no, pink’s all wrong.” Alec mumbles as he types, “Go for lilac, much more elegant.”

“Here you go, one honey macchiato with chocolate drizzle.” Alec reaches for the cup bindly, but is met with blank space. He looks up finally, only to meet with Jace’s unimpressed glare. “What? I’m arranging a gala for a very, very, very moody client. I mean ‘changes the guest list every three minutes’ kind of moody.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Jace hands him his coffee finally, wincing as Alec takes a sip of the still hot drink. “Seriously, how does that not burn your throat?”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” Alec throws a lewd wink his way, making Jace throw a bunch of stirrers at him. Alec finally puts the phone down after a bout of rigorous texting, and looks up at Jace. “Now, what is this customer you were telling me about?”

“Just some psychic dude, came in and ordered that godforsaken drink you make me make you every morning. I half thought he was joking and you sent him.”

“I didn’t.” Alec shakes his head.

“Yeah, he told me. It’s all cool,” Jace shrugs. “Funny thing too, he seemed really sweet, and with a sweet tooth like yours. You would’ve liked him.”

“Uh huh.” Alec says off-handedly, already busy texting back to his team.

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

The last gala Magnus went to was in 1903.

It’s been a hell of a time. Quite literally too, since a hellmouth opened in the middle of the dance floor. It had taken all the warlocks present to close it, and even then they couldn’t have done it without the Shadowhunters pouring in with weapons drawn.

It had also been the last time Magnus ever used magic in battle.

It seems that way now, bringing out the outfits that found their way in the back of Magnus’s closet, unused and unneeded for decades after decades. Magnus had lost touch with his magic, all warlocks did, but for someone like Magnus, someone breathing and living in magic day after day, needing it like air in his lungs, it had been drastic.

Magnus had cut ties with almost all of his old friends. It hadn’t been intentional, for most of the cases. Just seeing those warlocks ready and accepting eternity without magic made him despair far more than the actual reckoning of it. Catarina still comes around every few weeks, more often if she’s exhausted after an especially gruelling day at the ER. Ragnor still sends letters every few years aside from his phonecalls, his horned friend adamant on keeping the beautiful traditions of penpals alive by his sheer force of will.

But somewhere down the road, Magnus had stopped being the man he once was.

The clothes of an era bygone stare him in the eyes as he brings them out one by one- shirts, pants, breeches, boots, accessories that museums would give a limb and a half for.

The reason for all this, lies heavy at his desk in this other room.

Malcolm Fade was a wild man while he had magic. After losing his soulmate to the whims of the Nephilim, he’d grown almost mad it had seemed, until he lost his magic as well. Magnus had visited him a few times in the past, while everyone was still reeling from the loss of the Shadow World. Malcolm had seemed like his older self, more cheerful, more present in general. Magnus had been glad to see his old friend coming back to himself, and hoped this change will continue to be good for him.

It seems that his love for extravagant parties has not changed however.

The pale lavender envelope was hand delivered almost two days ago, making Magnus lose enough sleep over it already. What does it mean to have been invited to a gala, while his magic is back and in such a precarious way?

Magnus had stayed up staring at the invitation for hours, until he had decided to go at precisely 3:47 am, and to conceal the return of his magic until absolutely necessary.

Malcolm may be a friend, but he's a friend who suffered the loss of a soulmate, who Magnus last remembers having the Black Volume necessary for necromancy, and who isn’t above violence to get his Annabel back, if history is witness.

It’s better to bide his time. Learn to control it better.

And there's still a tiny part of him that thinks this is all temporary, and that this too will pass like a phase of the moon.

Magnus doesn’t pay any attention to that part, instead gathers up some clothes to take to the tailor nearby for a quick fitting.

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

“Holy fuck.” Alec gapes at the fabric lying on the fitting table at David’s tailor shop. It’s practically Manhattan’s worst kept secret at this point, that while a big name company may provide you a great designer dress or suit, you always come to David and his wife Genya for fitting. He’s seen them work wonders with his most nitpicky of clients, and for all the business the Lightwood name brings, he practically has an open access to the place.

The fabric’s unlike anything he’s seen before, the threadwork in gold and the artistically arranged deep brown buckles might seem too much, but yet it all ties perfectly together somehow.

“Is it the fabric you’re making my waistcoat in? Please say yes!” Alec tries to make a pleading face, but Genya hits his slouching back with the back of her measurement board.

“Stand still. Or I can’t work on you, and you can go wherever you’re going in this weird bulging state.” If it had been anyone else, Alec would’ve had a comeback, but Genya is a force to be reckoned with, and that eyebrow quirk is sure to leave his gambit backfiring. So Alec keeps his mouth shut, and the ginger hums appreciatively.

“This isn’t ours, sorry Alec.” David answers him with an apologetic smile.

“All good.” Alec offers, standing as still as possible, so as to not anger the seamstress currently working on the seam of his cuffs.

“That’s actually from one of our oldest clients.” Genya says, her voice muffled as she turns to work on Alec’s pants. “He came in and said his great grandfather had this made from us in the early 1900s. Said he’s going to a themed party and needed a refit.”

“Funny, the party I’m arranging is also themed around the early twentieth century.” Alec nods, before rolling his eyes. “Though honestly my client has made it into an hodgepodge if you ask me.”

“I’m sure you’re gonna do a wonderful job either way.” Genya offers, David nodding along with his wife.

They always seem such an odd couple, Genya with her fiery heart and strong smile and eager to talk to everyone, and David with his quiet sketches and always busy doing something . Alec has never seen two people so opposite, yet so in love.

His soulmark itches in the corner of his ribs, and Alec moves involuntarily, making Genya tut loudly. He doesn’t have time to think about wherever his soulmate is, whatever he’s doing.

He can’t.

That’s why he took this gig, after so many of his friends gave up trying to coordinate with Malcolm Fade’s- ahem, eccentric- choices. They all warned him about it, about the insufferability of it all, but he needed something, anything , after that day. Because no matter what he did, those kind brown eyes would come back to haunt him in his sleep, the smile in them so cruel, so mocking.

Genya taps on his shoulder, shattering his thoughts for the time being, and Alec’s grateful for the little intervention before his thoughts could turn dark like they’ve been for a few days now. Alec understands it, has heard of it. It’s the lack of the bond while coming so close to his soulmate. The bond is snapping forward, trying to find its twin, only to meet with emptiness.

Alec wants to rip it out of himself.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Alec. You’re going to be okay.” Genya says, not unkindly. She’s always had the uncanny ability to understand exactly what goes on inside someone’s head, and no matter how much Alec tries, it works on him nonetheless. It used to unnerve him, now it just feels familiar.

“I’m going to be more than okay,” Alec jokes, trying to lighten the mood, “I’m going to be fabulous in this suit. You’ve truly outdone yourself, David.”

The man in question only smiles a little, while Genya looks over her husband proudly, love shining in her blue eyes. Alec looks away from them, the bond screaming all alone in his chest. It’s too painful to look at people so clearly in love.

“When they come back to pick it up, tell them I said they have excellent taste.” Alec spares one last glance at the cloth lying on the table, before walking out to the counter.

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

Magnus is late to his first proper gala in over a century.

It’s really the Chairman's fault, he sighs to himself. If the cat hadn’t decided to be an absolute arse today, he would’ve been out the door to get his waistcoat at least an hour earlier. It’s a miracle he’s not missing the party entirely.

Well, a miracle and maybe a little bit of magic.

Okay, maybe more than a little.

It’s dangerous to try out portalling at such an early stage of his magic’s comeback, Magnus knows. The theory has also been proven multiple times as he stumbled across a petting zoo in France and an abandoned ruins of a church in Rome for the past hour. It took him three tries to finally get the location right. At least, knowing New York traffic, he’s still earlier than it would’ve taken him in a taxi.

Maybe he shouldn’t have uninstalled uber so soon.

The doorman regards him closely, and Magnus feels himself stiffen under the strict scrutiny. He feels like an actor playing pretense, his clothes and makeup all done in the hands of a man he no longer is. But, it’s still fun to see so many familiar faces under the same roof.

Whoever planned this party did a wonderful job of it, Magnus thinks. The chandelier is reflecting all the disco lights currently hanging from the ballroom, a swath of artifacts and activities from several different decades all in the same place, as is Malcolm’s taste, Magnus remembers.

But there’s still order in this chaos, a type of organized mess of a beauty, and Magnus can appreciate it. His thoughts flow, unbridled, as he takes a glass of soda on the rocks from the bartender, about a similar party he went to not too long ago, and how everything changed since then.

His moment of tranquil appreciation is soon interrupted by a pink-skinned phouka slamming into him. Magnus loses balance at the collision, and the world flips the centre of gravity in a blink of an eye, his drink spilling everywhere.

“Shit.” Magnus swears low in his throat.

“Can’ye see w’er y’er goin’?” The phouka yells in a deep accent, startling Magnus.

“I’m sorry.” Magnus apologizes, knowing full well it was not, in fact, his fault. It’s not in his nature to cause conflict. Even if he’s the one drenched in soda.

Even if his magic is crackling at his fingertips for a retaliation.

“What seems to be the problem?”

Magnus feels his magic going into overdrive, his skin feels too tight- too hot- too everything . He’s feeling like he’s seeing the whole party from a different perspective, the colours feel more vibrant, the chandelier a little sparklier, the sweet stench of the spilled drink a little stronger.

He feels drunk without having a single sip of anything.

“This nothin’ nobody’s tryna ge’ in the par’y for a quick sip, I reckon. I doubt he’s even in the list Mr Fade gave’em.” The phouka gives him a dirty glance. Magnus considers baring his eyes- his true eyes- for him to see exactly who this ‘nothing nobody’ is.

He decides against it at the last moment, instead pulls himself to his full height, towering over the barely four feet tall fae. Magnus juts his chin out the way he’s seen his best friend do every time he asks Raphael for a movie night, puts his mask away, and buttons the open jacket, regardless of its now drenched state. “My name is Magnus Bane. Check your damn list again.”

“Magnus.”

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

Alec feels like he’s dreaming.

This party is a dream in itself, the setting is done deliberately to emulate a sort of dream like chaos. He’s chosen his own outfit accordingly, a white a black ensemble, with an elaborate angel mask that covers his cheekbones in what looks like wings.

He looks divine and he knows it.

He was ready to be a professional tonight, making sure everything goes off without a hitch, half because Mr Fade is late to his own party, and half because he had to be, because staying cooped up in his apartment with netflix and pizza sounds a lot less appealing than whatever happens here.

Even though his mind is swimming with pain from the almost rejected bond.

Even though the pain of it seems imprinted on his very soul.

But then there’s a disturbance, one of Malcolm’s tiny bouncers yelling at a man who smells like the kind of expensive soda Isabelle likes. A man wearing the same jacket Alec saw on David’s table only a few hours ago.

Alec had been delighted, ready to make conversation with the man wearing the jacket he’s been so fond of- the same man in that simple yet elegant black and white handheld domino mask, until he’d noticed his eyes.

Until he’d said those words.

Alec feels the floor tilt from under him, every inch of his body screaming to go up to him, to introduce himself, to dance with him until they can’t anymore. It seems like a different sort of madness, and Alec’s not sure he’s objecting.

“Magnus?” He asks, hope blossoming like ivy under his skin.

“Alec.”

His name on those lips is what leaves Alec undone. All his professionalism, all his suaveness, everything Alec Lightwood ever is or ever will be, concentrated on those two syllables from the man Alec has waited a long- maybe too long- to meet.

Alec starts forward, a step taken almost unconsciously, his words warm against his ribs. Magnus has put his mask down minutes ago, and as he looks at his face, Alec feels like he’s falling into a never ending tunnel of love.

Those simple strokes of metallic eyeliner, like starlight bathed in gold. And in between them, the kindest, most beautiful eyes he has ever seen.

“Magnus.” Alec chokes out again, unable to say anything else. Magnus stretches a hand out for him to hold, and Alec takes it like a drowning man being offered a raft.

It takes him a moment to realize that the words have stopped hurting, as if a simple touch from Magnus have doused the burning flame into cool waves of calm.

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

Magnus takes a leap of faith.

Alec’s voice feels choked, like it hurts him to breathe anymore, and Magnus feels his whole life flash in front of him, all eight hundred years of it. It’s been too long, far too long, since he’s taken a chance on love. He’s gone cozy in his little comfort zone, happy to stay unrejected.

But he doesn’t want to do that anymore. So he offers a hand, a simple gesture masking a thousand words.

I’m sorry it took me so long.

I’m sorry I ran away.

I’m sorry I didn’t look for you.

I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere else.

Alec catches his hand, holding him close like the only hope in his whole world, and Magnus feels like he’s weightless, floating on clouds.

“Dance with me?” Alec asks, the question more of a request than anything else.

Magnus doesn’t find it in himself to say no, and quite frankly, he doesn’t want to either. So he smiles, eyes crinkling with hope and happiness and possibility. “I thought you’d never ask.”

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

The fast pop music changes into a slow waltz as the two of them go down to the dancefloor, a round ballroom stretching almost fifty meters every which way. Alec pulls Magnus right underneath the enormous chandelier, the reflected golden light painting them both in halos. They sway together, happy to just be close for the moment, and Alec is grateful. He doesn’t have it in him to talk right now, not when everything feels too perfect and too much like everything he’s ever wanted.

Finally, the music ends, and Magnus looks at him for a long moment right in the middle of the dance floor. Alec feels uncharacteristically nervous, everything he is laid bare in front of his soulmate. But he doesn’t shy away, instead he meets his gaze head on, before Magnus grabs his hand. Alec lets himself be led out of the ballroom, away from the crowd, finally stopping at the adjoined balcony, away from prying eyes.

“I’m sorry about the other day.”

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

Both men speak at the same time, before pausing to comprehend what just happened. A small smile graces Magnus’s face, and Alec wants to live in it, revel in it, spend his forever in it.

“I’ll go first,” Magnus says, “I’m sorry I walked out on you abruptly that day. There was an emergency and I had to leave.”

“Emergency?” Alec asks, concerned, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course. Everything is fine.” Magnus assures him. “Just- I told myself I left for that reason only, but the truth is, I was scared. I’ve heard those words a million times before, and every time they scarred me like a blade. I was so scared- scared of everything that I would be taking a chance on- afraid what I would be risking. I’m sorry. Really really sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Alec stops Magnus, clasping both his hands with his own, “I could have looked for you, tried to understand why you left, why you didn’t talk to me. I’ve heard my words too, over and over and over again. Until they hurt like a million paper cuts at the same time. And- and after you, I was so caught up in my own hurt, I didn’t stop to think there could be a second explanation.”

“I’m so sorry.” Magnus lowers his eyes, guilt overflowing his heart.

“Don’t be. Please don’t be.” Alec brings up Magnus’s hands, kissing them both, “You came back to me, that’s all that matters. I’m so so so happy to see you again.”

“This whole time I’ve been running up and down the whole city, trying to forget you somehow , but it’s like the more I tried to forget everything, the more the world just pulled me towards you.” Alec lets out a surprised chuckle. “I tried to plan a corporate party, but the banner place fucked up, and I had to get it done from somewhere else, and they told me about this other guy who’d been the same kind of bindup like me, and that he’s sweet and polite and that he’s been trying to get his banner for weeks, and all I could picture was you, and I just- I just couldn’t not help him.”

Magnus feels recognition hit him full force. “You’re the one who told Andrew to get my banner done in time?”

Alec stares at him for a full minute before speaking. “Oh god. Please don’t tell me it was you who went to Jace’s to get the same order as me.”

“You know Jace?”

“Our parents are high school friends, we practically grew up together.” Alec explains. “Honey macchiato?”

“Honey macchiato.” Magnus smiles, the two sharing a secret between just them under the night sky while the party rages on inside.

“And you were at David and Genya’s,” Alec says half to himself, before smiling mirthfully, “I told them to tell the owner of the jacket that they have great taste.”

“And?” Magnus goads him on.

“And I’ve decided that the owner has amazing taste, especially in soulmates.” Alec winks. “Though their taste is not enough to rival my own, because my soulmate is better, prettier, more amazing, than everyone else in the world. Brighter than all the stars in the sky.”

Magnus sputters for a second at the compliment, splotchy blush blooming on his golden cheeks as he ducks his head. Alec can’t stop grinning.

“Can we get out of here?” Magnus says in a stroke of sudden confidence, the surety in his voice evaporating as soon as the words leave his lips.

Alec makes an exaggerated gesture of being surprised, and Magnus can’t be annoyed with him even if he wanted to. “Mr Bane. Oh my. So forward.”

“You don’t have to.” Magnus adds quickly. “I get it, this is your event, and we can leave once it’s over. It’s okay.”

“I didn’t say that, Magnus.” Alec practically bounces the way to the reception, and signs off on a few papers, before explaining some things to his assistants. All the while holding Magnus’s hand in his own, like it’s his second nature by now.

Magnus feels like he’s walking on sunshine.

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

Later, Magnus and Alec stumble into his shop-in-apartment in Brooklyn, tangled together with limbs and mouths and hearts and bonds, losing touch with the reality of where one begins and another ends, words of love and promises whispered into every kiss.

I love you.

I’m not going to leave.

We’re together.

Everything’s going to be alright.

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

#alec lightwood #magnus bane #hmdiscord #malec #malec fanfic #jay.fic #mine #writing #my writing #this world inverted #twi!alec #twi!magnus #alternate alec #alternate magnus

36 notes · View notes

exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 5

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is going to be a long, slow burn fic (hopefully)

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Five: Madman

“Hello my little fairies,”

“Jurian, please-” Lucian groaned, his arms folding over his chest as he leaned back with a groan. They’d only been waiting a few minutes before their fae hearing had picked up on Jurian’s footfalls and accompanying whistle.

“Sorry fox-boy, but you’re the idiot who got yourself and princess over here stuck on your first day.”

Lucien said nothing, just glared at his friend with a look that could’ve killed. Jurian paused in his approach, taking a moment to survey the cage. Then he cocked his head.

“You didn’t do this on purpose right?”

“Jurian-”

“Okay, okay,” Jurian grinned, holding his hands up in defence. Throughout this exchange Elain had remained perched on the fallen tree, doing her best to ignore the boy’s bickering.

With a comedic deliberance, Jurian reached over and began to hoist the cage upwards. The contraption must’ve been heavier than it appeared given the audible grunt that came out of the semi-mortal man. Lucien sprang to his feet and held out his hand to help Elain up before snapping it back to his side. She ignored that. She ignored the sinking feeling in her gut too, and bent low and shuffled under the lip of the cage to freedom, Lucien close behind.

“You owe me one,” Jurian huffed as he let the cage fall, the wood groaning in protest.

“We should’ve discouraged the councils from putting these up,” Lucien glared at the Ashwood cage, and Elain could now see how the wood was black like the forests caged in the Nolan residence. Involuntarily, she shivered.

“Councils would think you a mad-men if you began suggesting they forgo protecting themselves against fae.” Jurian eyed his friend, his hands digging into his pockets.

“It’s not safe, not when allies who are fae come to visit. What kind of message does that send?”

“Lucien, you can’t demand the whole human world put down their swords just because your mate is in town.”

Both Elain and Lucien stiffened at the word, the acknowledgment of the bond they both had so insistently ignored for two, whole years. It was like the floor falling out from under them, and the friendly bantering they’d just shared lost its innocence and gained a heavy significance. Nothing could be simple between them it seemed.

Nesta would’ve gone mad Elain realised, to know that Elain had been trapped with Lucien who she was convinced was an uncontrollable beast. But Lucien had done nothing to make her uncomfortable, quite the opposite in fact.

“Huckleberry Hall?” Elain spoke into the silence, as Lucien and Jurian continued to glare at one another. Lucien with danger in his eye, Jurian with amusement.

“Maybe you should go back to the house,” Lucien said after a moment, kicking a stone near his foot.

“What? Why?”

“It’s dangerous out here,” Lucien gestured vaguely to the Ashwood cage. “You can just come with us to Huckleberry on the day, you don’t need to know the way just yet.”

“You’re the one that got us trapped,” Elain bit out. There was more emotion in her voice than she’d heard in a long time. Lucien, it seemed, had this tendency of making her break out of the fog that had descended on her mind following the Cauldron. Making her laugh. Making her angry. “I’m an emissary just like you, why shouldn’t I know the way?”

“No I…I didn’t mean it like that,” Lucien sighed, his brows furrowing as his shoulders hunched. But what other reason was there? Could Elain truly never escape the preconceptions the world had of her – lesser, inconsequential, useless.

“No, I get it. Don’t worry,” Elain could hardly control her anger at this point, folding her arms over her chest as though it could barricade her emotions in. Around Lucien everything was intensified, electric – it was making her feel sick.

“Elain…” Lucien said softly, and if she were not mistaken, from the corner of her eye she could see him extend a hand towards her - reaching out for her.

“Come on princess, I’ll take you home,” Jurian spoke as though he were reminding them of his presence, and Elain saw as Lucien’s hand retracted back to his side. “I have a new contract with the Darlington’s which I wouldn’t mind you looking over.” Jurian came over and Elain looked him over as though for the first time. Scruffy brown hair, a beard that could do with a trim. Brown eyes like Elain’s, and like Elain’s, they were somewhat glazed over, as though he were not truly there.

Elain just nodded at him, her back still somewhat turned to Lucien. But before Jurian could lead Elain back to the Manor, her mate spoke again.

“You keep her safe,” he said, and Elain couldn’t help but peek at him. He’d spoken with such steel in his voice, and his eyes were blazing with raw power as he glared at Jurian. It set something inside Elain alight.

“The house is 15 minutes away, please, have a little faith,” Jurian rolled his eyes.

“Pigs will fly before I put faith in you Jurian.” The man just rolled his eyes and turned back to the dirt path which they had all just come from. Elain turned to go, peeking over her shoulder one last time as she did so.

Lucien seemed to linger for a moment, an internal battle raging inside of him, before his expression darkened and he turned his back, walking away without a second glance.

“You don’t look like your sister, not really?”

“Which one?” Jurian was walking behind Elain, and with every step Elain felt his eyes boring into the back of her head.

“Both. Feyre’s all Nigh Court ink and the other one’s all hellcat.”

“I’ll be sure to let them know of your opinion.”

“You’re like me,” Jurian surprised her by saying. Elain flushed.

“I’m not sure about that.”

“Oh really? I think we’re quite similar. In fact, I think we might be just the same.”

“I really don’t think so,” Elain marched forward, swatting at the bushes as the arched over the path.

“You don’t sometimes feel a little…crazy?” Either she was going mad or Jurian’s voice was dangerously close to the back of her neck.

“No…” she breathed, not much longer now, the house should come into sight in between the trees any second.

“Do you still have visions?”

“No,” Elain said quickly, too quickly, “They stopped after the Cauldron was reforged.”

“How can you be so sure?” She definitely just felt Jurian’s breath on the tip of her left ear. “Your sister still maintained her powers, before giving them up for Feyre…silly girl.” Elain came to a halt and spun around.

“Be careful with how you speak about my sisters.” Raw fury lined her voice. She’d had enough, and all the tension of the last two days appeared to have peaked.

But, she hated that he had got this reaction out of her, hated that glint in his eye which revealed just how delighted he was.

“What are you doing here, princess?” Jurian said after a moment, his voice was painfully, uncomfortably soft.

“I’m here to look over your work with the councils-”

“No,” Jurian said simply, “What are you really doing here?”

Elain paused, her eyes boring into the madman’s, refusing to look away. Inside of her, she felt something spark into life, and for the first time, she didn’t blow it out – she kindled it, holding it in her hands and encouraging it to grow.

“Are you really do arrogant – so pompous – to believe I have an ulterior motive in my stay.” The words came out hot and fast, and Elain felt something inside her finally breaking. “You clearly believe I do, in fact, it’s clear you think you know said ulterior motive. So why don’t we ask you, Jurian, why am I here? If you’re so convinced of my disloyalty.”

If Jurian was phased by Elain’s extremely uncommon outburst, he didn’t show it. He just continued to peer down at her with cold, calculating eyes.

“Forgive me, Lady Archeron, if I do not believe in the honesty of the Night Court.”

“Your beliefs are not my problem.” The anger was easy now, too easy. It was no longer buried deep within her, in some unreachable pocket, it was bubbling under her skin, aching for release.

“They are when it appears the Night Court has sent perhaps the least suitable person for a job we didn’t even need. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together can see your position is unnecessary. You’re not needed…so why are you here?”

Jurian insulted her so casually, with so little remorse, that Elain wasn’t quite sure she’d heard him correctly. He couldn’t speak to her like that, right? No one, no one, spoke to her like that. No one insulted her to her face, no one told her she was not needed – especially not after the Cauldron. No one would’ve dared insult her in the Night Court, not with Feyre as her sister and Rhysand her brother-in-law. And Elain had thought…she’d thought no one would insult her here, not with Lucien around. But Lucien couldn’t be with her all the time, and everyone else, well they owed her nothing.

“How has talking to the councils worked for you?”

Jurian seemed to still. At least she’d caught him off guard.

“…pardon?”

“Because I don’t think I need to look at the contracts to know that your progress has been futile.” Jurian seemed to stop breathing, his eyes turning dark and dangerous. Elain wondered for a moment if Lucien had realised the only danger he’d left her with, was Jurian.

“Careful how you speak,” the madman’s voice was low, deadly.

“Have you ever wondered why? Why you’ve made no progress with the humans? Hasn’t it crossed your mind that a half-crazed man who used to be a finger and an eye in a ring, and a queen who metamorphosises into a bird come daylight, might not be the best approach to a land of mortals?”

Jurian stayed silent, and whether encouraged by bravery or stupidity, Elain didn’t stop.

“Humans are simple people, really. But everything they’ve been taught over the centuries has told them that fae are dangerous and not to be trusted. The humans are probably looking at the two of you thinking if they open themselves up to the world of fae, then they’re going to end up the same. Lucien he…well…I can’t imagine he knows much about humans either. What you need is someone who understands these people, who knows the right thing to say so they believe the fae mean no harm.”

“And let me guess, this person is you?” Jurian goaded with a condescending smirk that had no humour.

“Say what you want, Jurian, but I’m the most human one here.”

Jurian assessed her, his eyes clouding over with thought.

“Yes…human…you’d like that wouldn’t you.” It was Elain’s turn to be startled.

“Pardon?”

“Is that not why you’re here? To play dress up with your old life, to pretend that nothing’s changed, that you didn’t change.”

“No-” Elain practically hissed.

“I saw you the day Nolan’s boy rejected you. Brutal, but at least he’s honest, I’ll give him that. You were a wreck that day, princess, I bet you don’t even remember that I was there. But I was, and I saw that fire in your eye…I guess in that way you are like your sisters.”

“I…” Elain hated that her thoughts had turned sour, and her tongue had frozen. Now, she was drowning in memories of that day. That horrible, cleaving day.

“The look in your eye was of a woman who wasn’t going to give up on what she wants, not now, not ever.”

“I am a female,” Never had Elain referred to herself as such, but in the face of Jurian’s vitriol she had never felt such an urge to defend her fae-ness, “And you know nothing of what I want.”

“Then please, enlighten me,” Jurian was close now, too close, and Elain cursed herself for how her speech faltered, for how the words ran out. What did she want?

“Is it him?” Jurian pushed and Elain felt her whole body flush. Jurian just rolled his neck. “Only took you two years-”

“I didn’t-”

“I don’t care,” Jurian glared out at the forest, “You’re crueller than I thought, Lady Elain, to keep Lucien only till you want him. Do you like that? Keeping males on leashes till you get over your petty trauma-”

Elain slapped him.

Granted, the minute her hand collided with his cheek she was already cradling his face and apologising profusely. But still, Elain had slapped him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, oh Gods, I didn’t mean to, I just – I just – oh gods I-” Jurian was rubbing at his cheek, but the fog seemed to have cleared from his eye. Elain couldn’t stop apologising, down right mortified in her actions, particularly in the ease in which she’d raised her hand and struck a man. This wasn’t her; she didn’t defend herself like this. Too much time around Mor, that had to be it.

“Please don’t apologise, and you didn’t hit me that hard, I’ve had lovers do worse,” Jurian grinned cheekily. Elain just scrunched up her nose, a furious blush spreading across her cheeks.

“I wish I could say you didn’t deserve it,” Elain muttered as she watched the skin of Jurian’s cheek prickle into a dull rose. Horror washed through her for saying such a thing, but Jurian just shrugged and ruffled his scruffy hair.

“I refuse to lie,” he said, eventually.

“I’m sure that works brilliantly for you in the world of politics,” Elain couldn’t take her eyes away from the blushing skin of Jurian’s cheek. “Let me say this once, Jurian. Just so we know where we stand with each other,” she began, somewhat awkwardly as she fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve. “You know nothing of me. You know nothing of my wants, and you certainly, certainly, know nothing of my pain...”

It seemed that Jurian had nothing to say to that, and Elain couldn’t stand the look in his eye, so she turned to the endless forest.

“If you spent five minutes in my mind…”

“What?” Jurian ground out, and Elain looked at him sharply.

“Those 50 years would look like child’s play.”

Jurian’s eyes darkened, and he seemed to look over her as though for first time. Drinking her in. Elain thought he would’ve been offended but, he just looked thoughtful, as though he’d been propositioned with a new puzzle.

“Till you prove me otherwise,” he finally began, moving around Elain and walking forward along the path, “I cannot believe that some part of you, no matter how small, is only back here to try and go back to your old life. That’s just what I’ll believe.”

Elain said nothing, she just fell into step behind the madman. What was supposed to have been a short trip to Huckleberry had turned into strangely casual bantering with Lucien and a confrontation with Jurian in which she had physically assaulted him. If today was any indication, perhaps Vassa would give her another strange encounter come nightfall. All she had to do till then, was look over the contracts. That would be simple enough.

“Elain,” Jurian spoke up, not bothering to even turn around.

“Yes?”

“Please prove me otherwise.”

***

Lucien was pretty sure he was scaring the humans. He’d walked into Huckleberry Hall with flames practically sizzling from his fingers and had given a small gaggle of human women a nasty fright as he spun the corner.

He was now waiting on the updated maps from the humans’ best cartographer. Lucien didn’t like waiting. He didn’t like staying still. He needed the world to keep moving and he needed it to keep dragging him along, because when he stopped like this, he became far too aware of exactly how things were.

Things had been going fine with Elain. No, not fine – great. For the first time, ever, Lucien was pretty sure he’d caught a glimpse of Elain. Not Elain when she was stuffed in Night Court black or silent whilst her sisters spoke for her, but just, Elain.

She’d laughed at his joke. Cauldron fry him – she’d actually giggled at something he’d said. Lucien hadn’t even had time to consider how that was their first time alone together, just the two of them. If the world were kind to him, maybe one day that would be their story – the first time they talked because they’d quite literally been trapped together.

But the world wasn’t kind to him.

What had gone wrong? All of a sudden Jurian was there and things were bad again. Lucien had done what he always does, he’d said something stupid, and he’d watched as Elain, quite literally, retracted into herself.

And now he was alone at Huckleberry Hall, and all the excitement he’d had merely hours ago, at the prospect of being with Elain and making some progress, had evaporated. Groaning, Lucien ran his hands down his face.

“Lucien?” A sweet, bubbly voice called out from behind him, and it took the male a moment before he could place the voice. Turning around, he forced an easy, courtier’s smile onto his face.

“Delilah,” Lucien smiled, greeting the woman with a slight bow of his head. “How are you?”

“I’m well, how are you?” Delilah was the daughter of Lord Darlington, the human who appeared to be in charge of the armies, Lord Nolan supplying the arms for his escapades. Lucien didn’t understand how human courting worked, in the fae lands when he liked a female they’d usually be in his bed before sundown, but from what he’d heard of the human crowds, Delilah had been described as the ‘diamond of the season’ – whatever the hell that meant.

Lucien supposed that meant a lot of men were scrabbling for her hand, and he supposed she fit the human model for attractive. Her hair was of palest blonde, and she had a dainty body with bones that reminded Lucien of a bird. She wore pretty frocks with high necklines, and seemed to have abnormally, cosmetic rouge cheeks and lips. She was sweet, but in the face of-

“Are you sure you’re well?” Her voice was high and sugary, “You look ready to explode.” Lucien huffed what he hoped was an amused laugh.

“It’s been a hectic night and day.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Delilah chewed her bottom lip. “Any reason in particular? Any way in which I can help?” Lucien shook his head.

“No…we’ve just had a new arrival from Prythian, a high fae like me whose here to assist with negotiations.” Lucien tried to keep his voice neutral, but he was sure that somehow Delilah knew he was talking about his mate. Surely she heard his heart, racing in his chest.

“Oh, how exiting!” Delilah’s eyes seemed to brighten with a seemingly innocent interest.

“Really?” Lucien had cocked his head and raised his brow, “I thought you humans would hate having a new fae in town.”

But Lucien knew Delilah wouldn’t mind. When Lucien had first arrived at the mortal lands things had been, strange. At least he was already well practiced in having strangers stare at him, but there was something unblazoned about the humans. The men always looked to be sizing him up, their eyes calculating exactly what it would take to take him down. The women…well. Women of an older generation were mortified by him – which was a first.

But the younger women, they hadn’t had so many years in believing the fae as wicked. The girls were curious, and Lucien was very handsome. He always had been, and it seemed that here, his scar and metal eye only added to the exotic ambiguity of his presence. Over the two years the women had become braver. They might come stand near him in gaggles, first they didn’t talk they only observed, then they were having loud conversations of when they would be taking strolls in the garden, unattended by their chaperones.

Lucien was amused. For one reason. The idea that Elain had once been like these human women had sent his mind whirring. Would she have been taken by him if they’d met before the Cauldron. It would’ve been so easy to see her when she was still human, he could’ve been the one to deliver Feyre’s letters, he could’ve crossed the border and knocked on her door and-

It was a fun dream. But that’s all it was, a dream.

“Maybe my father would hate a new fae but, I’m sure us ladies wouldn’t mind,” Delilah let out a giggle that reminded Lucien of too many sugars in his tea.

“Well, she’ll be attending the meeting on Friday, so plenty of opportunity for greetings then.”

“She?” Delilah seemed to falter slightly, her iridescent hair catching in the sun in a way that made Lucien’s eyes hurt.

“Yes,” Lucien sighed, he really hated to tell people of her, in some way he supposed it was his way of keeping her safe, especially when at the most important moment of his life he couldn’t shut up. But Elain was not his property, and not his secret to keep. “Lady Elain of the Night Court.” He confirmed, unable to keep the awe out of his voice as he spoke.

“Archeron?” Delilah’s voice, impossibly, rose in pitch.

“Yes…” Lucien wondered if he’d made a mistake given Delilah’s wide, calculating eyes.

“We…we never thought we’d see her again,” Delilah said, as though it were some kind of explanation.

“I…” Lucien’s brow furrowed, “I’m sure she feels the same.”

“Gods…will you be at the Nolan’s tonight,” Delilah went on, and yet her eyes still remained troubled as she looked at him.

“Me? No…no I don’t attend those kinds of things.” Lucien straightened himself up, folding his hands behind his back.

“It’ll be a lot of fun,” she smiled sweetly at him, and for a moment Lucien wondered why she was asking him. She’d extended the offer a few times two years ago, but soon it became well known that the Fae Male from the other side of the wall would have nothing to do with the Nolan family beyond basic respect.

“I’m sure it will, but, I have other duties I must attend to.” Not quite a lie. Not quite the truth. Who even cared.

“Of course,” Delilah bowed slightly, and Lucien was somewhat grateful that the young woman seemed to be taking her leave.

“But know,” she surprised him by taking a step closer, “You’re more than welcome should you…change your mind.”

And then she was gone with a curtsey and a flick of ice-white hair. Lucien watched as she disappeared down the golden hallway, her pale skirts dragging across the marble floor, and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

#elucien #elucien fic #elucien fluff #elucien fanfiction #elain #elain archeron #elain acotar #elain x lucien #elain/lucien #elain and lucien #lucien #lucien vanserra #lucien x elain #lucien/elain #fffaf #jurian #vassa #band of exiles

36 notes · View notes

emilia3546 · 3 years

Text

Shadowsinger Part 16 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

*****

Maddy was practically dancing with joy when Azriel's shadows cleared and she spotted a head of auburn hair beside him,

"You brought her!" She squealed, then calmed herself down, just long enough to make sure Azriel wasn't an impostor, "The stars are bright tonight."

"They shine with the moon." Gwyn narrowed her eyes, and Azriel chuckled, "It's a code, only Maddy and I know it, and now you, it's to ensure that neither of us is compromised." Gwyn nodded, and glanced around the clearing, "It's just us, I meet them one on one, some don't know the others' identities, Maddy does, but she's my second."

"Okay," Gwyn nodded, and turned her attention to Maddy, "You were at the Hewn City, is that where you work?" Maddy shrugged,

"At the moment, but I can get into pretty much anywhere, although I'm not usually a 'guard' I was lucky that no-one noticed me last time." Azriel huffed in agreement, and Gwyn raised an eyebrow at him, "He thinks I'm reckless."

"Azriel said that?" Gwyn nudged him in the ribs, "You're one to talk!"

"Moving on," he muttered, rolling his eyes as both females lapsed into giggles, "Cauldron spare me," he mumbled, waiting for Gwyn at least to stop to breathe, "Maddy, c'mon, shut up." She snorted once more, but she did mange to quieten down, laughter still dancing in her eyes as she looked between Azriel and Gwyn. She was calm, relaxed, still alert, but she grinned at Gwyn as Azriel explained their position, and she smiled back, oh she could definitely get on with this.

"I'll keep an eye on Keir, I wouldn't put it past him to try and stab you in the back with the darkbringers."

"Neither would I," Azriel's eyes were dark, his face near-unreadable as he spoke, "I've contacted those I can on the continent, but I want you on standby to head over there if we need." Maddy nodded,

"What's Gwyn's role in this?"

"I'm helping Az with plans and communication, and I'm backup, I'm not planning on going into the field, if I fight, it'll be with my sisters,"

"You have sisters?"

"I had one, a long time ago, but I meant Nesta and Emerie, if it comes to fighting, I'll fight with them and the Valkyries." Shadows gathered around her at the mention of Catrin, and she could almost sense Azriel's worry for a moment before she smiled again. Once Azriel had finished with his list of discussions, Maddy grinned at Gwyn again, and pulled her aside,

"I thought he'd never bring you along." She whispered, "He's such an idiot, he seems to think we might scare you off."

"He is an idiot," Gwyn glanced around to check that he wasn't listening, "But he's my idiot. And I'll be coming along all the time now, he was just waiting for me to ask, to say that I wanted to come." She offered Maddy another grin before crossing back to Azriel, and gripping his hand,

"Gossiping about me?" He chuckled, but before Gwyn could deny it, wind was rushing in her ears as he winnowed home. Gwyn stumbled on landing again, but kept her feet, somehow it was easier than when Rhys had winnowed her before,

"Az, why is it different when you winnow than Rhys? Isn't it the same?"

"Actually, no, I sort of shadow-winnow I guess, it's not true winnowing, so it different than when someone who can properly winnow does it, but I prefer it. I don't like it when Rhys winnows me anywhere, it's weird." Gwyn snorted,

"I know what you mean, it's disorientating, but you're not much better."

"Azzy? is Gwyn with you?" Gwyn stepped around Azriel, and grinned as she saw Theia stepping out of the house,

"Oh, good, I just got a rather worrying letter from a friend, from Ironcrest." Gwyn didn't notice herself grasping Azriel's hand, didn't notice the way she looked across at him, unconsciously willing him to relax,

It'll be okay, we'll fix it, whatever it is. Breathe. There was no way he could hear the words, but she thought them anyway, and he did seem to calm,

"Let's go inside," Gwyn muttered, following Theia towards the downstairs office, leading Azriel behind her, rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hands, and smiled when he stared down at where their hands joined. She could almost hear the thoughts running through his mind at that moment, so she gently lifted his hands, and softly pressed her lips against them, "These hands saved me, Az, you have nothing to be ashamed of." She whispered before finally going inside.

"Apparently Ironcrest is split down the middle, those who stayed, who are loyal, and those whose families have gone, who are accused of being rebels, I don't know if they all are or not, but she's worried that a civil war might break out if nothing is done."

"But the rebels themselves aren't back?" Azriel's voice was still strained, worried, but he still managed to keep a air of calm around him,

"No, it's just their families, wives and children, they're being threatened and picked on, I don't know what you can do about that, though."

"We can certainly do something, I'll head over there now," Gwyn nodded,

"Let me just grab something for my hair, I'll be right back,"

"No, I'd like you stay here, Gwyn,"

"What? But-"

"It's sounds really unstable, you'll be a walking target for both sides, just let me go and check it out so I know what we're dealing with." She could push him, could force him to let her go, but it would only upset him, and her being there probably wasn't necessary, especially if he needed to be unseen, it was easier to hide alone. She sighed,

"Just be careful, and be back as soon as you can."

"Thank you." He leaned down to kiss her quickly before slipping away, with Gwyn's gaze following after him as far as she could see him. She started at Theia's hand on her shoulder,

"He'll be fine, he's our Azzy." Gwyn huffed, but stayed staring after him,

"I do worry about him. Especially at the moment, he still thinks I'll see this other side of him and leave, that his family will leave him, and he'll be on his own again. He doesn't quite understand that he can't scare me off." She finally turned to Theia, and found only understanding and hope in the female's face, "I don't know what to tell him to make him see that. War is horrible, but he's not, he's not, and he won't see that, he thinks he's irredeemable because of how he's been forced to survive," tears filled her eyes as she spoke, "And it hurts to see him thinking things like that, knowing that I can't make it go away, that I can't help him."

"You do help him. You should have seen him before he met you. You've brought him to life, and you've made them love you too," she gestured to the shadows hiding in the corner,

"Get over here, you busybodies," Gwyn chuckled, and laughed as they raced around her,

"Just tell him how you feel, all you have to do is be there, show him that he can't push you away, that you'll still be there through difficulties. It will take time for him to realize, for him to believe that he deserves you, but all you have to do is show him every day how much you love him." She chuckled at Gwyn's widened eyes, "It's so obvious, even if neither of you will admit it, just make sure you've got a contraceptive tonic," she joked,

"Oh, we're not, I mean, I don't think I can, not that I don't love him, and he's so gorgeous, but I just can't." Gwyn clapped a hand over her mouth, "I'm sorry, I just," she broke off at the tears in Theia's eyes as she closed the distance between them and cupped Gwyn's face in her hands,

"You can always talk to me."

"Thank you, I think I'll get there, but for now I'm still a bit scared, but less every day."

"We all are initially," We? Gwyn blinked her surprise, "Azriel thinks he was the product of an affair, and he's half-right, but I didn't have the heart to tell him the truth." Theia drew in a deep breath, and Gwyn waited, letting her gather her thoughts, speak in her own time. "It wasn't quite an affair, Azzy's father took what he could, but he couldn't take my heart, my courage, my love for my son, and whoever it was cannot take that from you. You are stronger than what happened, and it will take time, but when you want to make that choice, whenever it is, whether that is tomorrow or a hundred years from now, Azriel will be waiting for you, he will always wait for your choice." Gwyn smiled as she recalled his face when she had first kissed him,

"I know."

*****

It was difficult to hide in broad daylight, difficult but not impossible, and Azriel settled into a spot by the training pitch, almost wincing as one particular boy was beaten down again and again, insults spat at him, and it took all of Azriel's self control not to leap to his aid. He wasn't seeing that boy in that moment, all he could see was Cassian, remember the tears that he refused to allow to fall every time he took a fight for Azriel, every time Rhys' mother had to clean him up, every time the instructors punished him for something that wasn't his fault. Every jab from the other boys had him struggling not to squirm, their words were so similar to those old insults,

"Traitor," Bastard

"liar," Bastard

"Rebel," Bastard

"Where's Daddy gone?" That one hit home, and Azriel squeezed his eyes shut to avoid moving, only opening them at the sound of another voice

"Daddy's a traitor," Mommy's a whore. Neither of them had known what that had meant the first time it had been spat at them, both of them, but it was always Cassian who took the brunt of the insults, the beatings. And it was always Cassian who had sought the approval he had never been allowed to have from Illyria, and the way certain lords looked at him still made Azriel's stomach turn, made him want to punch their teeth in, but Cassian could fight his own battles, Cauldron knew he'd had to. The boy on the pitch shouted for the others to stop when he fell again,

"Daddy can't protect you now, little traitor." Azriel's heart bled for the boy, covered in mud, struggling to stand. He screamed when someone twisted his wing, and tried to crawl backwards away from them, but found himself crashing into someone's boots,

"Watch yourself, boy." The warrior shoved him back towards the other boys, and he fell straight back into the mud at their feet, curling into a ball to protect himself, sobbing at every hit. Azriel couldn't take it any more, and he cursed himself as he moved, crossing the pitch, ignoring every questioning glance, but he couldn't just watch,

"Hey! That's enough, leave him alone, can't you see he's down?"

"He's a traitor."

"Is he? And who decided that, you?"

"His father's gone with all the others."

"So? We do not judge the son by the sins of the father," Azriel spat as he helped the boy to his feet, catching him when he swayed on his feet and lifted him into his arms, "You lot are banned from training for a week. Understand?" They quickly nodded,

"Yes, Sir, sorry." They certainly knew who he was then, and the boy in his arms shifted and groaned in pain,

"It's alright, son, I've got you, can you tell where your mom lives?" He muttered an address just loud enough for Azriel to hear before his eyes rolled back in his head and flickered closed. The only signs of life were the slight rise and fall of his chest, and the sound of his breathing. Azriel nodded to the warriors across the pitch, and glared at the male who'd encouraged the bullies,

You and me, anytime. The other male dipped his head, breaking eye contact, and stepped away from Azriel, still glancing over his shoulder long after Azriel had left the pitch. There were clear signs of unrest as he walked through the town, some shops were empty, others full, others smashed to pieces, some houses too. He took a breath before knocking on the door that the boy had said was his mother's, and tried to offer a reassuring smile when a small female opened the door, cringing away from him when she recognized him,

"I haven't done anything wrong," she whispered, dropping her gaze to the floor,

"I know," she glanced back up, and gasped when she saw her son in his arms,

"Oh gods, what happened to him? Is he okay?"

"I think he will be. Some of the others took it upon themselves to single him out as his father's vanished with the rebels."

"Please, my husband is not a rebel, there's been some sort of mistake." She shook her head again and again as she gathered a bowl of water to clean her son up. "I don't know where he's gone, but he's not a rebel, please, I sent a letter, to, to your mother, you have to believe me, please."

"I do believe you, " Azriel said quietly, "I'm not here to question you, I'm here because I couldn't watch him get hurt any more, but I do need to understand the situation here, what more can you tell me?"

"I don't know a lot, the males clam up whenever a female is around, they don't stop us training, but they won't talk about the coming war, the rebels, or anything important around us, I've only heard a few things that I wasn't supposed to hear."

"Those are always the most useful things. Anything you have is great,"

"I suspect you already know that the rebels, and their sympathizers have gone, I don't know where, but there's been a lot of tension between loyalists and those left behind." She swallowed, and handed Azriel a cloth to hold while she went to fetch he healing kit, and she started in surprise when he started to help cleaning the mud off her son, "I've never met a male who'd help with anything like that," she whispered,

"You can't have met many decent males then,"

"No, I live in Ironcrest, I took the best there was, and I do love him, but he's still under the pressure from the others, the assholes, so he doesn't do any chores or anything, but he will sometimes cook for me, mostly if I've had a long day."

"It'll get there, one male at a time, it'll get there. You can help, raise your son to be a good male,"

"Will he come back? My husband? I didn't hear anything from him, one day he was here, and the next when I got back from fetching Callum from training, he was gone. No-one will buy my clothes any more, they say he's a disgrace, even my father looks the other way when I pass him on the street. My mother has been slipping me money, but I'm scared my father will notice, I can't survive without it, but if he catches her," she didn't need to finish her sentence for Azriel to know what she meant. "I know it's the same for others, some have brothers or sons that can still help, but anyone who doesn't, they won't accept our work, I used to be known as the best seamstress in Ironcrest, now nobody will buy my work, they say it's tainted with betrayal." Tears welled in her eyes, "And every day, Callum comes back with more bruises, I know sometimes getting a few little injuries are a part of training, but it's worse than ever before, I worry that one day they'll kill him,"

"I won't let that happen," Azriel swore, "I'll get back to Velaris, and we'll figure something out, thank you, write to my mother if you need anything else, or if there's anything else that happens,"

"Of course, thank you, Azriel." He nodded before slipping back outside, waiting for her back to be turned before leaving a little pouch of coins on the side, vanishing before she could turn back to see it.

*****

With Azriel gone, all Gwyn could do was find Nesta and Emerie, organize the Valkyrie trainees they already had, and plan for training the Illyrian females. There were some who had done some training, mostly youngsters, but Gwyn would never consider putting children in harm's way, never. Nesta huffed when they finally finished the numbers,

"We only have thirty priestesses, and only fourteen who could possibly fight, but fewer who would actually do it." She muttered, "And Illyria, what was it, Em, about a hundred?"

"Yes, that have already had some training, but we should have time to get some intensive training set up, we can gather those who wish to fight into a new, temporary camp perhaps, get some of those more agreeable males to help training them, I doubt Az and Cass will be able to get over there often, we might be able to be there a bit more though." Gwyn nodded,

"If what Theia said is happening is widespread, we may need to move some families for now anyway, are Rhys and Feyre back?"

"I don't think so," Nesta said, "Feyre said she'd let me know when they got home, they're still inspecting the darkbringers as far as I know." She tried to hide it, but Gwyn couldn't miss the flash of worry in Nesta's eyes, and she smiled encouragingly at her, laughing when her head snapped sideways, to the doorway, to the crying. Cassian immediately handed Nyx to his mate,

"I don't know how to stop him crying," he admitted, and Nesta gently rocked him in her arms, crooning softly to the child, and he quietened for a moment, but wailed again, and Gwyn whispered for the shadows around her to go play with him. He screamed in delight when one of them tickled him, grabbing out at them, and giggling in delight. Gwyn smiled, and jolted at a gentle elbow in the ribs from Emerie,

"I didn't know you could control them," she muttered,

"Not as well as Az can, but they like me apparently, so they listen. It's been pretty recent though, they used to just be sort of fascinated with me, and now they occasionally whisper to me, I can't properly understand them, but sometimes I get a couple of words, or a feeling or something," Emerie raised an eyebrow, "You don't believe me!"

"I do believe you, I just think it's funny,"

"Oh shush," she muttered, "Stop that,"

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me like that,"

"Like what?" Emerie asked innocently,

"Like you're expecting some sort of grand reveal, you've been reading too many books," Emerie just chuckled and turned back to Nesta with Nyx, her face softening when her gaze landed on the sleeping baby. Emerie wasn't right for expecting some big declaration, Theia had said it was obvious, did Azriel know? Oh gods, she had to talk to him, it was getting dark, surely he would be home soon. At her worry and sudden confusion, the shadows darted back across to her, hiding her from view, and Gwyn swatted them away, mumbling that they were busybodies, but she did love them really, she loved more than just them. No matter how she tried to ignore it, to convince herself that it wasn't happening, she had to admit, she'd been falling for a long time now. Apparently so had Azriel and she wasn't going to run away any more, she loved him, and she wanted to make that choice, she wanted him, just him, for the rest of her life, and for some reason that thought didn't scare her any more.

#fanfiction #fanfic #Gwyn #Gwyn acosf #gwyneth berdara #gwynriel #azriel x gwyn #Azriel #Azwyn #acotar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames

30 notes · View notes

count-woe-laf · 4 years

Text

Who’s your friend?

Prompt 53 from @someonehelp sorry that it took so long and if it’s not what you wanted, I may have accidently written it for @coconut-cluster ‘s battle of the bands au and this post and its tags because my brain could not stop thinking about it. The au is hers and y’all should go check it out, I love it

Thank you @knight-of-cauldrons for helping me with the names and lovely people from the Roman Arson Squad for helping me with other stuff too and @me-a-mess-morelikelythanyouthink for helping me edit stuff and talking about this until 4am with me so I knew what to write, I appreciate it, (also the drumstick things is entirely her fault (maybe a little bit of mine))

Pre-romantic prinxiety, there’s a few swears, very brief mention of murder/death, the ending and middle is a little weak, 1348 words

The blood pumping through Roman's veins, the air in his lungs, the microphone in his hand, the noise of the music and the crowd, the feeling of happiness- of greatness surrounding him. It was in these moments that Roman felt truly alive.

It was the show high and boy was it fun; the world would slow it's spinning, Roman- his bandmates and friends playing behind him- would sing, the crowd would cheer. It was one of the best feelings Roman had ever felt. (He says one of the best because he got a free pink lemonade in the middle of summer once and it was closely tied for one of the best feelings ever.) This great feeling stayed until Roman would get home that night. Even once the audience left he would still feel the burst of happiness in his chest.

The Disasters were spread around the stage, packing up their instruments. Well, Remus and Janus were packing up. Roman didn't have anything to do so he was scrolling through his phone. Virgil was sitting on the edge of the stage, playing around with his sticks, talking to someone from the crowd. Normally Roman wouldn’t pay much attention to them, but he didn't have anything interesting on his phone and his gaze kept drifting towards Virgil.

The guy Virgil was talking to looked around their age; he seemed nice enough, maybe he was being a little too nice for Roman's liking, but that didn't matter, he was just some guy. Some guy that was talking to Virgil, a completely normal conversation. Virgil had conversations all the time. …Did Virgil usually smirk at a stranger's remarks, though? Did he normally let someone try (and fail) to spin his drumsticks, would they laugh afterwards? Roman's after show happiness suddenly disappeared; he instantly realized his night wouldn't be as good as he thought. The amazing feeling was replaced with another that Roman wasn't entirely familiar with. All Roman knew was that it wasn't jealousy.

There was no way it was jealousy, It couldn't be jealousy, jealousy didn't feel like this, did it? No, the feeling in the pit of Roman's stomach wasn't jealousy, he wasn't jealous. There was absolutely no reason for him to be jealous over some hot looking dude talking to Virgil. Roman and Virgil were just friends anyway, he didn't have a reason to be jealous. it didn't matter that Roman's heart stopped when Virgil smiled at him. It didn't matter that Virgil would say one flirty joke and Roman would be distracted for the rest of practice. And it didn't matter that Virgil was one of the few people Roman trusted. None of that mattered, Roman was not jealous. Finding himself walking towards Virgil's spot on the edge of the stage wasn't because he was jealous, it was because he was bored and cared for Virgil's safety talking to random people. Yeah, that sounded about right.

"Well you seem really funny, Virgil, right?"

Virgil stopped spinning his sticks. "Yeah, and your name is…"

"Andy, short for Anderson, it's a dumb name right?" They both let out a short laugh, Andy's laugh was really nice and smooth, way better than Roman's dorky one. What? That didn't matter, there was no need to compare himself to whoever this Andy dude was.

Roman ignored his mess of thoughts and placed himself near Virgil. "Hey, Virgil! Who's your friend?" Ignoring how stiffly Roman spoke it almost seemed like he was saying it nicely. Of course Roman was saying it nicely, why wouldn't he be saying it nicely?

"Oh uh, we're not friends yet," and the guy dragged his hand through his hair and winked at Virgil. He actually winked. He looked towards Roman. "Anyways I'm Andy, me and my friend Spike are going to get some food, wondering if Virgil here would like to join us?"

And boy, did Roman have a lot he wanted to say, it might've warranted him a disappointed lecture from Janus. So he turned off his internal monologue of this bitch really thinks he can take Virgil, my best friend out to an 8pm dinner, that's our thing sometimes we even share pancakes- and looked over to Virgil. He must know that the late dinners are tradition and that one cannot break from traditions especially ones with your best friends.

"Come on, it'll be fun." Andy lowered his voice, "Maybe after we can drive somewhere, there's a place I know that's really pretty around this time."

Roman scowled and opened his mouth, hoping to say something that wouldn't sound overly protective and jealous. "He-"

"Sorry we have some band stuff to talk about tonight. But uh," Virgil threw up some awkward finger guns and stood up, quickly trying to get away. "I'll see you around though. Have a good night, Andy." They started to walk away.

"Ok, if you're sure, I wish I got your number, but I'll stick with this," Virgil turned around to see Andy badly twirling one of his sticks. "See ya around Virgey," and with another stupid wink, he was gone.

They both stood frozen on the stage, the feeling in Roman's stomach grew as the silence stretched out. "Did he just make a pun? And call me Virgey?" He looked over to Roman with a bewildered face. "He used a pun to take my stick, called me Virgey, and left. Now I need new sticks," Virgil looked down at his lone drumstick. "This is why I don't like new people talking to me. And being stuck somewhere alone with a stranger? Not my thing." Virgil turned to face Roman, hands loosely playing with his stick. "Sorry for cutting you off there but you were already being overly jealous and extra and I didn't want that to get worse."

"Hey, I'm not overly extra, I don't know what you're talking about," Roman looked down and pouted.

"Oh so you're admitting you're jealous?" Virgil raised an eyebrow with an innocent look.

"I'm not that either, Virgey," Roman ignored his growing blush, took Virgil's last drumstick and lightly hit him on the arm, making Virgil frown in response.

"Oh really?" Virgil took back his stick and hesitated before gently placing it under Roman's chin, tilting his head up so their eyes met. "You're a horrible liar, you don't keep eye contact and can't think of excuses, it's very suspicious. Anyways, you interrupted my lovely conversation with Andy, sure seems like you're jealous, Roman."

Wow… Roman was going to faint. Virgil was looking at him with a teasing glint in his eyes as a stupidly cute laugh fell from his lips. Roman couldn't even respond let alone breathe, who gave Virgil a right to be this- this-

Roman's chin fell. "We should go, I think Jan and Remus are already in the van."

"Uh, yeah," Roman said, slightly dazed. "This is your last call to go with your stranger over there and get into his sketchy looking truck. You sure you don't want that?"

Virgil snorted, "I'll stick with your jealous self. At least I know you won't kill me in a back alley." He started to walk away. "Come on, you know Janus will leave for ihop without us."

Roman followed him out. "I blame you if he leaves us, you piss him off too much."

"Says the one who got into an hour long argument with him about cornflakes." Roman scoffed in response.

The after show high had returned, along with memories of thousands of similar interactions with Virgil. (God, why was Virgil such a flirt? Roman would combust one of these days.) Unlike his earlier predictions, it was a very nice night after all. Roman was so thankful to have the feeling of giddiness back in his veins and his band of friends surrounding him.

(He was also thankful for the ihop waiter that brought him extra whipped cream that Virgil proceeded to eat and get all over him. There was now a very cute picture of Virgil in Roman's syrup covered phone that Roman would not stop looking at all night.)

I tried to do it justice, thanks for letting me write this and for sending in a prompt. Send me a prompt (and characters and a ship, sorry if I change it) and I’ll write something (probably short and definitely sanders sides) out of it eventually. Know that it will probably take me forever but I’m trying to write more

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #janus sanders mention #remus sanders mention #ts virgil #ts roman #I know dialouge is not my jam and it probably sounds choppy but idk how to fix it #botb au #hopefully this is good enough lexi #pen throws away a pen

190 notes · View notes

boxofbadaddiction · 4 years

Text

Whoever Broke Your Heart

George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Cheating. Guy who doesn't understand the word "no". Teeny Tiny bit of Swearing.

Opening a Joke Shop was the best idea Fred and George ever had. It's what they were meant to do. What made them happier than one would think possible. At least that's what George had been trying to convince himself for the past few hours.

To tell the truth, this past week had been the most stressful so far, and they worked through the beginning of a war!

But now that that was over and Diagon Alley, like everywhere, was beginning to return to the new normal, the Twins had been flat out. Kids were preparing for the school year and in addition to their shop being near capacity every single day, mail orders were through the roof. It'd been like this for the past 3 weeks, but this week...This week could not possibly get any worse!

Between the eight new complaints from angry family members after falling victim to one of their products. To the three ruined displays after a customer 'accidentally' set off one of the boys 'Crazy Creatures' feature Fireworks which sparked a Lion to pounce throughout the store, until the Twins got it under control, it had managed to take out it's fair share of shelving and they had to close the store for a little over an hour to clean up. On the brightside they sold twelve of those that day after everyone saw it in action. Now, however, there weren't enough fireworks in the store to distract George from the mountain of paper work he'd been ignoring. Or from the fact he still couldn't get his latest invention to cooperate. He has completely HAD IT. In his opinion this week can well and truly go and get fuc-

"OI GEORGE! You're not still working in there are you!?" Fred called as he made his way to his brothers room.

Sure enough, there his Twin was. Slumped uncomfortably in his desk chair working reluctantly on the paperwork he'd neglected. With his head propped up by his palm he didn't even acknowledge his brothers entrance.

"For Merlin's sake, George. The stores closed mate, give yourself a break for a minute won't you?" Fred walked over to glance at the work spread haphazardly over the desk top.

"Later. I'm nearly done." George murmured.

"Bollocks you are." Fred replied lifting several order sheets from the pile to read through them. "You've been working non-stop lately, just let it slip for tonight, mate."

"I can't Fred!" He snapped in frustration. "We're so far behind it's ridiculous. I can't let it go because it needs to be done before open tomorrow!"

"We're not open tomorrow, George! It's Sunday!"

"What?" He looked up confusedly at his calender on the wall. "It's the 31st?"

"No." Fred dropped the papers in his hands and flipped the page of the calender, picking up a red marker which he used to circle the date. "It's the 5th, you numpty."

George threw his Quill onto the desk and pushed himself back into his chair, rubbing his eyes in frustration before running them through his hair with a groan. He had a whole day to get this done tomorrow. But here he was rushing through it like last minute revision before an exam because he can't keep track of what day it is. He relaxed at the thought of more time. Fred patted his shoulder with a slight chuckle, noticing much of the tension he'd been harbouring melt away.

"Worried for nothing" he joked. George looked up at him with a glare. Freds face dropped slightly, seeing the bloodshot whites of his Twins eyes and the dark circles beneath them. "Bloody hell...you really need a night out of here."

George stood to stretch his aching back and sighed satisfactorily as it cracked in several places. "Yeah. Maybe I do" he spoke honestly.

"Tell ya what, Georgie. I was gonna continue work on that Dragons Breath Candy of yours tonight anyway so" he dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out a bunch of coins counting quickly, "here's twenty galleons. Get out."

George tilted his head in question.

"Go eat, or drink, whatever. Just get out."

George wasn't feeling particularly energetic for a night out and opened his mouth to protest, but Fred was having none of it.

"UH! No. Take a shower, cause you reek. Then leave and I don't won't you back till you're truly hammered. Hear me?"

His brother smiled half-heartedly and sent up a mock salute with a playfully stern expression.

Feeling far more refreshed than he had 20 minutes ago thanks to a good hot shower, George readdied himself to leave, grabbing his keys then quickly apparating to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. True, it wasn't a particularly long walk but honestly...he just couldn't be bothered.

The Pub was decently full but given the fact it was barely past eight on a Saturday night, one would actually consider it quite empty.

Shuffling past the groups of people drinking and talking throughout the room he quickly made his way to the bar. He stood to the right of what appeared to be a couple, leaning his body against the counter as he ordered a Fire Whiskey. He pulled a vacant stool toward himself to sit down as he paid for his drink. He simply sat, contently sipping his beverage, listening to the music as he felt himself relax considerably finally having time away from the stress of work. A few minutes passed before something to his left caught his attention. The couple he'd sat next to, or rather what he now gathered was an uncomfortable woman and some insufferable git who clearly didn't understand the word 'no'.

He was relentless in trying to persuade the woman to join him for a dance...then a drink...then how bout a date...then a-OKAY! George had heard enough.

"Oi, mate." He shouted slightly to be heard over the noise of the room, he tapped the man's shoulder to make it clear he was the one he was talking to. He turned slowly with a sour look of disgust at the interruption. "Give it a rest won't you? She's clearly not interested."

The girl shifted slightly in her chair, distancing herself from the man who refused to leave her alone. She clutched her drink within her hands tightly, trying to appear invisible one would assume.

"You with her are you?" The man spoke as he turned his body to face George, eyeing him with a rude expression.

"No."

"Then sod off. You're not one to know what she wants."

"Given the 8 times she's told you 'no' in the past 5 minutes I'd say I know exactly what she wants. For you to leave her alone."

The girl couldn't help but smile slightly at the redheads boldness of words. The man on the other hand was quickly becoming agitated. He straightened himself and took a menacing step forward, nostrils flaring. George didn't budge. Unphased by the man's movements, he simply sipped his drink with a deadpan expression.

"You tryna spark a problem, buddy?"

"Merely attempting to resolve one." George spoke smoothly.

"I don't see one here needing your help." He hissed.

"That'd be because you're it. So unless you'd like me to conjure you a mirror I'm afraid you'll remain quite blind." He took another sip of his drink. "The girls not interested. Leave her alone."

"Oh she looks plenty interested to me" the angry man spoke "just playing hard to get" he smirked stepping back a pace and wrapping his arm around the woman's side. George noticed her cringe at the contact moving away from him in her seat.

George placed his drink on the counter and stood slowly. His movements making the man drop his arm and puff his chest to appear bigger than he was. Stares never leaving one another as the redhead turned his body to face the arrogant man, looking down on him as if he were something unpleasant stuck to his shoe. Towering in comparison, a good head taller than he was caused a flash of unease to spead across the face of the offender. Evidently he had not realised the full size of the man infront of him while he was seated.

"Leave." George spoke in a deep and threatening voice. Eyes like daggers peircing all confidence the man before him previously held.

In an attempt to gain some composure and try not appear to be fleeing the git scoffed. Throwing a lame insult at the two of them before grabbing his drink and sulking away into the small crowd. George stood in place like a statue until the man had disappeared from sight completely. Posture and expression immediately softening as he turned back to the woman by the bar "are you alright?".

"Fine. Thank you." She spoke swiftly. Not turning to face him clearly wanting to be left alone as her body was still stiff and rigid. George looked at her unsure of what to say. "Do you need anything?".

"No. I'm fine. And I'd appreciate being left alone." She snapped turning her head ever slightly toward him as she did so. He tried to not take it personally as he noted the emotion held in her eyes and the slight tremble in her lips. The way she sat as if trying to restrain herself from something. Her drink, obviously bought long ago as the ice had all melted and the condensation had formed a large ring around the base of her glass. She'd probably been here long before that tosser showed up.

George sat, facing back to his glass not wanting to disturb her any further. She was beautiful he thought, and had the circumstances been different he probably would have been tempted to buy her a drink. But he knew now definitely wasn't the time, even if he just couldn't shake the feeling he needed to say something.

He eyed her curiously and cautiously, not wanting to appear as another weirdo incapable of understanding boundaries. Watching her stare sorrowfully at a Golden Diamond ring she fiddled with in her hands, a tear slipping down her cheek. It all made sense now. He raised his drink slowly to his lips, looking forward.

"Whoever broke your heart, must have been crazy."

She turned to him instantly, a very confused expression on her face as she watched him toss his head back to finish his drink. He signalled to the bartender for another before turning his head to look at her.

Mouth agape slightly as she furrowed her brows at him. He couldn't help the smile that came at her reaction, he nodded toward the ring in her hands.

"Engagement ring, is it not?" He reached for his new drink without taking his eyes off her. She stared at it for a moment before answering solemnly. "It was."

She bit her lip while turning the ring over on her finger tips, as if unsure whether or not to continue. George reminded silent, not wanting to force anything from her she wasn't comfortable with. "I caught him cheating little over a week ago."

"He's a git." He said abruptly taking a mouthful of whiskey. The girl laughed at this turning to look at him.

"You sound so sure."

"I'm certain."

"You don't even know his name"

"No, but I've got a couple for him."

She laughed loudly this time, having to look away from him to compose herself. George could have listened to that laugh all night, he was suddenly very thankful for Fred all but pushing him out of the flat earlier.

When she turned back to face him her cheeks were burning pink and she'd bit her lip slightly. He was taken by her completely. Which is stupid, he thought, because he doesn't even know her name. Shit. He doesn't know her name!

"I'm George, by the way" he reached his arm out to her.

"[Y/N]" she smiled taking his hand.

"Can I buy you a fresh drink?" He nodded toward the warm, flat beverage sat infront of her.

Hesitating slightly she stared into his eyes before nodding with a sincere smile.

They spoke for ages about Everything. Nothing. Hell anything that came up. He couldn't work out how someone could possibly have said goodbye to a girl like her. Nobody in their right mind could. He was smitten, with all of her. The way she smiled. Her laugh. They way she bit her lip when she tried not to blush. The way she played with her hair. He was oblivious to everything in that pub except her. As she was with him.

That was until the distinct sound of her favourite song peirced her ears. She hadn't taken her eyes off him for more than a second since he bought her that first drink, and there'd been a lot since then. Suddenly she was looking over at the band in the corner, smiling.

"I love this song"

He didn't know why the idea came to him, probably from the overwhelming urge to touch her he's been resisting for so long. To hold her. Kiss her. Guess this works as well...

He stood, finishing his drink in a single gulp and held his hand out for her. "Come on."

"What?"

"We're going to dance" he grinned at her.

"Oh, no. I am a terrible dancer!"

"Same, love. No excuses." He winked at her taking her hand and pulled her up.

"One second" she pulled back a step but kept her hand in his. She turned to grab her mostly full drink, chugging it and placing the empty glass back against the rest, before turning her attention back to him.

George let out a haughty laugh at the action. Her grip on his tightened as she glared playfully at him, then taking the lead walked out onto the dance floor where he twirled her around and they danced next to one another not caring about how silly their moves must have looked as neither cared they couldn't dance.

They stayed out there the rest of the night, until the band announced their last songs were coming up. Slow songs. All couples on the floor began to move together. [Y/N] glanced around nervously before her eyes trailed back up to him, he was smiling down to her. Hand outstretched. She took it willingly and he pulled her into him where he began to sway.

"And you said you couldn't dance" she joked as she noticed he'd clearly done this before. He shrugged. "May have learned a move or two at school".

As the music went on the two of them only got closer, his arms wrapped around her as she lay against his chest. George let his chin gently rest on the top of her head, eyes closed enjoying the moment. It was perfect. Until, he felt a notable sigh leave her chest. Not at all content. It was sharp and she was obviously thinking about something she rather wouldn't be. He pulled back slightly to look down at her.

"Hey...what's up?"

"Sorry." She spoke to his chest "I didn't mean t-I just..." stumbling over her words she mentally kicked herself for ruining the moment. Taking a step back as she shook her head, she let go of him. George felt cold without her. "It's not you. I just-"

"You were thinking about him."

[Y/N] looked up at him with sad, apologetic eyes.

"It's okay, [Y/N/N]" he closed the space between them and ran his hand down her shoulders to her elbows. "I understand."

"It's just...all this...the slow dancing, the feelings I have right now..."she stopped herself, staring down at her shoes.

"Hey," he moved to cup her face in his hands. Bringing her face back up to look at him. His brows were furrowed and he had such a sincere look on his face [Y/N] could have melted right there. How could someone she only just met hold so much more love in his eyes toward her than her ex-fiancè ever did? "I like you." She spoke before he could. Georges eyes widened at the words, a smile began to creep on his face. Her hands came to rest on his arms as his hands fell to hold below her jaw. "I just...I don't know how you can be looking at me like that. When you barely know me, but then I was with-" "the git." She laughed at his interruption but still dropped her head to stare at the floor sadly "When I was with, the git, for 3 years and he never..."

"Listen to me." George ducked himself, as his finger tilted her chin up to look at him, "You deserve so much better than him. I don't have a clue how a prat like him managed to wrangle a winner like you but..." his eyes were flicking frantically between hers, desperate for the right words, "whoever couldn't see the girl that I see right now wasn't looking at you, love. If I know one thing is true...if you let me, if you give me the chance. I'll never be like whoever broke your heart."

Tears were forming in her eyes. Biting her lip as a smile began to form. She nodded slowly. Then quickly as she threw an arm over his shoulder and around his neck to pull him into a kiss, followed swiftly by the other. His hands fell to her waist. They felt perfect together. [Y/N] couldn't believe she'd nearly married some cheating git, when there was a man like this out there. A man so full of love, and compassion and pure joy he could light a dark room with nothing but his smile.

As the song that was playing slowly faded to an end the two finally parted lips, smiles so giddy they felt like Second Years again. She fell back into his chest as her arms came down to wrap around him, eyes closed listening to the sound of his heart beat and breathing as the bands last song began to play.

"I kinda wanna thank him." George spoke. She looked up at him, mouth slightly agape, brows furrowed, utterly confused. He couldnt help but chuckle at the look she was giving him. "Well, if he didn't do what he did, you'd never have ended up here in my arms." He smirked causing [Y/N] to roll her eyes before pulling herself back into him. "That's so cheesey" he felt her laughter quiver through his chest. He kissed the top of her head. "Get used to it"

#my 2nd ever fanfic 🥳🥳🥳🥳#harry potter fanfiction #fred and goerge weasley #george weasley x reader #George weasley #george weasley imagine #George weasley/reader #george weasley fluff #whoever broke your heart murphy elmore #murphy elmore #music inspired fanfic #fred weasley x reader

265 notes · View notes

ahsokasanity · 3 years

Text

Chapter Four

Notes - more spoilers, so don’t read this if you’ve not done ACOSF. Mostly from Az’s POV. Isn’t it about time we talked about Az and Elaine?! In case you missed the beginning Chapter One

Azriel avoided Elain. He spoke business to Rhys and he tried to smile with Feyre, if only because he didn’t know for how long he would be able to do that. It was lucky that he spent his whole life in subterfuge and was able to speak little to steer clear of topics that had been swept under the rug. Feyre didn’t notice. They had always had an easy if not intimate relationship. Elain on the other hand…

It had been weeks since Solstice and that near mistake. It was even more glaringly a mistake as he sidestepped any invitations to the River House and more so from ever being alone with Elain. She was often in the garden so he without fail arrived at the front door. When he met with Rhys it was in his office and Azriel knew that Elain rarely frequented that area of the house. Rhys was silently pleased and encouraged Az in all of his spying and chaperoning of Nesta and Cassian (now that was a title that held no responsibilities!). They found themselves able to work around Azriel’s crushing need to try to get eyes and ears on Briallyn, and Rhys’s absolute no on that endeavour.

When Az flew toward the River House that day, he was high. As in emotionally high. The three longest term trainees had cut the ribbon, all three in the one day. Valkyries indeed. Gwyn had made the break through first and he knew without question that the impromptu lesson during Solstice had given her the tools and the courage to be first. Her success radiated through him as she let Nesta tie the ribbon around her forehead. She’d lifted her chin in his direction and winked. She winked at him! Yes, yes, of course it was a student teacher type interaction, it was not wreathed in innuendo nor suggestive in any way. He saw the person beneath peeking out from the robes and the trauma and he was knocked backwards by her grace.

It truly did not help that the glass rose swung free of her neckline and glimmered in the sun. Her hair was tearing free from it’s braid around her cheeks and the thrill of the conquest, the blush on her cheeks turned her into the most glorious creature. Az was used to this now. Every few days he’d catch a look or a moment of pure beauty from her and he’d file it away. He was not masturbating to his images of her and he thought of that as a good sign. The Sidra Salvation was becoming a regular stop during his week so the tightness and the angst were distant needs. The loneliness was a constant companion, but it was smothered often by his friends, his family their court and it’s demands.

So wrapped up was he in thoughts of training success, he did not see Elain standing by the lavender path leading to the front door. She was engrossed in her work but immediately he landed she stood and walked directly to him.

“Elain….. um hello” he stammered out

“You won’t talk to me and you never see me when you are here. What was so bad?” She dropped her gaze as if all the courage that it took to say those words had left her empty

Azriel pulled himself together and guided Elain to the bench seat alongside the house. It was out of sight of most of the windows and he could tell that Elain did not want anyone to see her like this. His past-self strained to take her in his arms, but the stronger better male was in charge now and he knew to support without overture was his job.

“I’m sorry Elain” Her name on his lips brought a sob to her mouth and she covered it with a shaking hand.

“I hoped to let you sort out these feelings without getting in your way, without making your decisions more difficult” He was finding this really difficult, her bottom lip was tight as she held tears

“But, you saved me. You were the only one who saw me. The only one who has seen me since I became this” She indicated her perfect fae form from toes to pointed ears.

“I promised Rhys” As soon as the words left his mouth AZ knew the hurt they would cause, the trouble.

Elain shook her head once, gritting her teeth “The mighty High Lord forbade you from what, being friends with me, from pursuing me? He enjoyed seeing the steel will under the stunning exterior. So rarely seen, so alluring.

Azriel did not extract himself from her tight grip but he knew that for himself, for Elain to get past this point, she needed the truth and nothing less. Even if it wounded him, wounded her. No good could come from mincing around these basic fae instincts, the mating bond, the trouble between courts.

“Elain you have to listen and you have to know that I do not say this to hurt you, even though I know it might. This is important”

She nodded, but her eyes cast down, tears leaking from each.

“There is no law that says that every party involved must accept the mating bond..”

“Oh, THIS again” Elain went to stand. Azriel clutched her hands tighter

“Yes Elain, THIS again. Because it will not go away. Not ever. No matter how far you go or how much you avoid it. You will feel it. He will feel it and it will never go away”

She sobbed into his hands, hers tightening and releasing. “I know. I know”

Az blew out a breath and stroked her hair. She stiffened and he smiled

“Just supporting, not seducing” he stared at her and she lifted the corners of her mouth.

“I am just so sick of life doing things to me. Without me. Losing Feyre, becoming rich again, being betrothed to Graysen” (she said quietly) “Being kidnapped and then the cauldron, losing Graysen and my father” She drew a shaky breath.

“I wanted something else, something mine and my choice. I thought that you were my choice, and I might be yours” The last had been mumbled out of her mouth – a truth that she didn’t want to give up. Azriel’s chest cracked a little and he pulled her toward him.

He breathed into her hair “You would be, you could be - except for the bond”

Elain gasped and pulled away, nearly stood up.

“People keep telling me that it’s up to me if I accept it or not, I don’t have to like Lucien. I don’t have to be with him. I have no interest in being with him. Why won’t you fight for me?” She squared her shoulders and glared at him with what was decidedly a Nesta I will slay my enemies look. Exactly the conversation that Az had been trying to avoid for a month, since that stupid night, that ridiculous present that was all about wanting to be a part of something bigger than himself. And he had dragged her into this web, knowing full well the fall out would be massive.

“Please, wait and …and listen” Elain stalled her stomp off as he composed himself and spoke

“Everyone has been so careful around you, well not just you, we coset Feyre and we hide scary truths from each other (he thought of Mor) and we do it thinking that we’re doing right, helping. We are not helping you Elain. The truth of your life is that Lucien is in it. You have decisions to make, but I cannot offer you myself, I cannot create a civil war between our court and at least two others if I fight for you. I cannot disobey my high Lord” He nodded in truth and stroked her hand “No matter what our circumstances may have led us to do in the past. I like you Elain, I probably even love you as my High Lady’s sister, but to accept any relationship with you is a war starter and you know, it won’t even work for you to release the bond this way.”

“But Why, why Azriel” How many times had he thought about his name spoken by her, not with this edge of grief, but with joy like the night she’d given him the headache powder. He steeled his soul

“Because you need to explore the mating bond and not just by ignoring it and Lucien. I’m not one to extol his finer points but he does have them. Feyre might tell you some. Rhys and Mor might tell you others. You have to know that even I know, he was not a part of your kidnapping and definitely not a part of your being made Fae. Even before he knew you were his mate, he has never contributed to harm coming your way.”

If only for the fact that Elain had never heard Azriel speak so many words together, she believed him. She knew that her idealistic gardening, helping Velarisians, and ignoring the part of her life that needed growth itself, was over. Her consolation was Nesta and Feyre and their journeys through the dark to the light. She might be able to get there, to that immersion in life. The great, the sad, the truth of it. She knew they’d help. But she would have to tell them what she needed, not just avoid what she didn’t want.

They were both standing and she wrapped her arms around Azriel’s middle linking her fingers to cage him in for a little while

“Thank you. For telling me the truth, I don’t want it, but I probably needed it” She glanced up at him – Gods he was a fine figure even for a fae. She giggled to herself.

“How much trouble are you in if Rhys finds us?”

More Chapters? Try the Chapter Link

“I will wear it if you promise this is the beginning of our totally platonic, sister/brother hugs are allowed everything else is out of bounds relationship” He smiled a world lighting lifting of his usually neutral face and she nodded but held him tighter.

#acosf #sjm #acotar #Elriel #high lords #angsty

17 notes · View notes

lightwdangelo · 3 years

Text

The Wand Chooses The Wizard, Harry

You can read on ao3

Summary: The living room was a mess and Harry couldn’t move an inch. His letter was right there. His letter of Hogwarts that he’s been thinking about since he was little. It was finally there, he imagined the scene of how awesome would be. But never, ever he would imagine that it would be his parents running around the room.

Where Harry goes buy his materials to Hogwarts with his parents because they aren't DEAD

“Good Morning,” Harry said with a voice still filled with tiredness

“Morning, sweetie” Lily said giving a quick kiss on the top of his head

“Did you fell off the bed?” James appeared on the door that leads to the backyard

“No,” He said sitting on the table “Also don’t know what happened. What we are having for breakfast?”

“Your mom and my beautiful wife” James made his point kissing Lily on the cheek “Is making the breakfast today”

“Why you’re not the one cooking today?”

“Oh, my food is that bad?” Lily put the plates on the table

“It’s not that. It’s just dad who usually cooks. Just found unusual”

“The day is unusual. You woke up at seven-thirty”

Suddenly the cat made a weird noise, and an owl made a noise. Maybe they entered in a fight. But, an owl?

“Are we expecting any letters?” Lily asked going around her memory but finding nothing

Harry and James looked at each other in the instant the words came out of her mouth. She saw the glint in their eyes and got the sign. The three of them got up all at once and ran to the living room where they found the cat running around trying to catch the owl, who was holding a letter. The Letter.

James run to pick the owl, Lily tried to catch the cat, and Harry was frozen. The living room was a mess and Harry couldn’t move an inch. His letter was right there. His letter of Hogwarts that he’s been thinking about since he was little. It was finally there, he imagined the scene of how awesome would be. But never, ever he would imagine that it would be his parents running around the room.

“Got it!” James screamed with the letter in his hands, the owl flew through the window, and Lily released the cat, “Open it, Harry”

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock , Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

“The letter wrote by Minnie McGonagall herself!” James smiled

“It’s here” Harry’s hands were shaking “It’s finally here”

“I know, honey” Lily hugged him tight “How do you feel?”

“My boy! I am so proud of you!” He picked up Lily and Harry and gave them a bear hug “I need to tell Padfoot and Moony, now!”

Lily laughed and hugged her son more and more, giving him kisses “I’m so, so, so proud of you, Harry”

“Can we go to the Diagon Alley?” Harry said when Lily let him breathe a little “Like, right now”

“Oh, sweetie. There are more two weeks to go, we can go tomo…”

“No way! We’re going right now!”

“James? You know we have plans today, Marlene will kill me if…”

“Mom, aunt Marls will understand, and besides, dad just has to make her that pie she likes” Lily laughed exasperate

“Well, then shall we get ready?”

****

“What flavor do you want, Harry?”

“Salted caramel,” Harry said to James moments before they entered the ice cream parlor.

Harry never dressed up so quickly and never wanted so much to go shopping. He was shaking in happiness and, for the first time in his life he wasn’t in the mood for ice cream.

“Harry, if you keep moving you will break this chair.” Lily said with a soft smile “So, what do you want to do first?”

“I don’t know. Everything? I just want to go buy the stuff. I’m too excited to decide things”

“I can’t believe this is finally happening!” Sirius shouted by the door, making him the center of attention “My godson is going to Hogwarts, they grow up so fast”

He hugged Harry from behind and sat by his side

“Where’s Moony?” James said after greeting Sirius and bringing the ice creams to the table

“Oh, remember he had to travel?” Everybody made a sound of acknowledgment but Harry’s face wasn’t as bright as before. “He was sad he couldn’t come. But he told me to assure you that he would be on the boarding day, okay?”

“Okay”

They kept chatting, mostly James and Sirius exchanging gossips like teenagers and Lily making sure her to-do list was okay with Harry, after all, these were his things. He was going to Hogwarts.

“First stop: Flourish and Blotts Bookseller,” Lily said proudly and starting to walk

“Of course the first place is the bookstore, nerd”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it. Remus taught you to like bookstores, uncultured punk,” She answered with a smirk on her face “Okay, so what we will need is…”

James was more off in this one. He was never much of a bookworm like his wife, so he didn’t have many opinions like Lily. But seeing her geeking over the books and telling Harry everything she remembered and seeing Harry’s eyes shining in excitement. He was so, so proud of his family.

“James!” She called and he turned his proud-dad-and-husband moment to pay attention “Remember this book?”

“By Merlin’s beard, these things still exist? They should have banned this”

“It’s just a potions book?” Harry pointed out

“It’s your worst nightmare as a sixth-grader. It gives the worst instructions on how to make potions.” James said holding the book with disgust in his face “Lucky us our professor was cool and told us how to do right. I mean, kind of.”

“I loved Slughorn. I was one of his favorite students; he was an amazing teacher and friend”

“Not like the douchebag that your current teacher will be. I can’t believe they let this man teach anything.” Sirius appeared out of nowhere with a book in his hand

“Language!”

“Who’s that?”

“Snape, he’s an asshole and for some reason is teaching potions”

“Language Sirius!” Lily hit him with a book “But unfortunately your godfather is right, Harry. And if he does anything against you, even if nobody believes in you, send us a letter immediately. And I will go there.”

“Okay, mom?” Harry was really confused

“Great, now you’ve been warned” She kissed in the cheek and walked to pay for his books, alongside Sirius

“Why mom and Sirius hate him so much?”

“Mom, Sirius, and dad,” James gave him a tiny smile “He was not the friendliest person to have around in the times, to say the least. You’ll understand when you met him”

“Now I’m a little scared, what did he do?”

“Don’t even get me started. Anyway, I think we should buy you a broomstick without your mom knowing. What do you think?”

“But I can’t bring it to Hogwarts. It says in the letter. Besides, mom would discover anyway”

“Not if you don’t tell her that”

“If you don’t tell me what?”

“Told you, dad,” Harry said with a raised eyebrow and helping Lily with the bags. Better, just gave everything to James “He wants to buy me a broomstick and I said that you would discover”

“James…”

“I actually agree with James,” Sirius said

“Sirius…”

****

“Ok, so we bought books, clothes, cauldron… Now all we have left to do is the wand and an owl” Lily said checking everything off of her list

“Can we get the wand now?” Harry said walking in front of them “Please, it’s near here, besides if we get the owl now it will get agitated and uncomfortable. We don’t want a stressed owl, do we?”

“Smart boy, definitely didn’t take this off your father,” Sirius said laughing “But he’s right, shall we go?”

They walked a little until the door of the old shop was visible. The dust and smell of old things made Harry sneeze right after they entered

“Mr. Olivanders?” James shouted, “Are you in here?”

“A moment, Mr. Potter”

Harry looked confused. How did he know it was dad calling? But it looked like he was the only one surprised

“I see” Olivanders came from the billions of shelves that were weirdly displayed through the shop “You’re going to Hogwarts soon. So Mr. Potter, what’s your dominant hand?”

“I’m right-handed, sir,” He said trying not to laugh because the magic measure tape that was measuring his arm was making him a little ticklish

“Okay, test this one”

Harry didn’t feel any different. It was a pretty wand but felt weird in his hand. He mirrored some movements that he had seen his parents doing

“No, no” He took the wand from Harry’s hand, a little aggressive “Try this one. Phoenix feather, eighteen centimeters, flexible”

It still felt weird and it did nothing. And they changed and tried new ones until it felt different. The wand fit in his hand naturally, like it always belonged there. A warm feeling in his palms and he felt magical. Harry has live in the Wizard World his entire life, but now? He truly felt magical right here and right there.

“Do something, Harry,” Lily said softly and with pride in her voice

And he did. He cut the air and little flames appeared. He looked back to see his parents and Sirius smiling in awe. He felt pride. He was proud of himself and he was happy.

“The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter,” Olivanders said “And this wand choose you”

#i hate this shit so fucking much #harry potter #james potter #lily evans #lily potter #sirius black #remus lupin #jilly #marauders #fanfic #my fic #clara writes stuff

6 notes · View notes

itsthe-neo-zone · 4 years

Text

Wands and Potions - NCTdream & WayV

Please read the Masterlist before continuing ahead with the chapter.

Warnings: read the warnings in the masterlist linked above, song recommendations can be found there too.

A/N: Thank you to those who appreciate and support this piece of work! You know who you are, and thank you to my wonderful followers and taglist! you make this possible.

Chapter 16:

“I wanted to ask you about something.” Selene whispered; she didn’t have to be loud; she was sitting on the edge of a log in the clearing near the edge of a small island on the black lake.

“Fire away,” Yangyang was behind her, plaiting her soft locks, the feeling of the gold-like shimmer beneath his hands calmed him slightly. He was about to reveal his thoughts and deepest desires to her.

“Is it true, the whole dark arts thing.” She breathed out Yangyang could feel how she visibly tensed beneath his gaze. He looked down at her shoulders, the way they curved in slightly. She felt vulnerable around him. “You’re taught the dark arts?”

The exasperated sigh she heard from him was worrying her and his silence increased the level of anxiety in her tenfold. She felt his slender fingers let go of the strands of hair she let cascade down.

She had ever gone this far away from castle alone. “Yes,” he murmured; he took his steps to come stand before her. “I’ve done things… that are regrettable, but I’d never try to harm anyone.” Crouching to be at eye level he looked into her eyes with full sincerity.

“It’s alright.” she crooked her head to the side breathing out, the stray strands of her hair fell down past her eyes “You’re not scared?” he asked puzzled, his eyes wavered slightly looking anywhere but her.

“No,” pulling up all her courage she smiled at him, assuring the slender figure before her. “I’m not.”

“Even if I tell you I know of the unforgiveable curses.” He was a little sceptical in mentioning them.

“Even if you tell me about those.” Selene didn’t hesitate she answered immediately letting him know she trusted him, it scared her a little, but she believed he was good inside. He never judged her for being a half-blood and although it was difficult for him, he maintained their friendship.

“So, why did you bring me here?” Selene looks around. She knew of her whereabouts, but she was confused, why specifically here?

The two continued walking along the path into the woodland sitting on the island, the neighbouring patch of land had the grave of the preceding headmaster of Hogwarts. They began talking, Yangyang explaining what he believed and where his affiliations lied.

“Gellert Grindelwald was right. He had a plan to keep us away from hiding. All wizard kind. Durmstrang students look up to him, we recognised him as our leader.” Yangyang glanced around, they wandered off into the main coppice, letting themselves get caught in the magnificence of the nature.

“Do you think like him, do you believe that wizard kind deserve to rule, that it’s your birthright?” Selene was wondering, she wanted to understand what he believed to be his right. She wanted to get her thoughts around his ideals and beliefs.

“I do.” He walked up to a certain tree gathering from its leaking sap. “Tree sap must be quite rare where you come from.” she comically pondered, Yangyang grinned turning to face her “Just a hobby.”

“So, you think there are powerful wizarding families that would be willing to continue Grindelwald’s noble work?”

“Definitely, I’m surprised your family isn’t in on it too.” Selene chuckle; she thought of her obsessive blood supremacist mother and her family.

“Don’t be, I’m sure they’re a part of it, my family is intense when it comes to this kind of ordeals.”

[01:36PM]

Selene had been spending the rest of the free afternoon she had in the empty potions room. Professor Giverlein left the empty room letting her know there were no more potions classes that day leaving her with everything she could ever need.

“There’s no way I’m going to get this?” Selene whined thrusting her digits past the sides of her head rubbing her sore scalp. She was beyond stressed.

Sleepless nights, Chenle and his problems on one side. Rose and Albus with their family stress on the other; her own family ordeals tugging at her, the prophecy the portrait spoke about, the lestrange manor invitation, Yangyang and his affiliations to the return of the Ancient Sacred 28 and then Scorpius and his solemn depression. Selene was trying to solve too many problems at once.

She felt as if it was all coming back, as if the matters were taking her physical body and heath as tribute she was going to regurgitate. Holding it in, she lifted the elixir the potion she had been working on secretly aside her schoolwork.

The bitter after taste was awful but she withstood it for the benefits the potion would give her. This was old magic; you’d give something up for the taking of another. In this case it was her blood.

Selene hid the bubbling liquid in the cauldron, she lifted the rusty metal towards her shelf setting a lid on top and pushing it inwards quickly to sheath the brewing of the elixir. She took her seat back at the edge of the table.

Selene was reminded of the tournament happening from the exaggerated shouts and yells from the harbouring window. The voices came from students a year or two older, closer to Yangyang’s age. Selene sat there dazed for a moment. It was getting closer to the winter break, meaning the deadline for the potion project was creeping nearer.

Playing with the leaves of the daisy root; Selene remembered what she had gone through to get the foliage. She recalled what Chenle did for her. He saved her from the hell she was going through, twice. That should prove that he cares.

But why do I still hate him for his harsh words and cold demeanour?

[06:17PM]

[Selene Pov]

“I got your message. What is it?” I rushed to the library. Moving past tables I saw a crouched lyra she was shaking, and I mean shaking. Almost vibrating.

“What on earth happened. And why did you send that idiot Irene to tell-” I stopped my whining because I realised this was real, she was in tears and it looked like anymore and she’d lose it all. I lifted her up swinging the robes she had on the floor over her shoulder blades.

Olivia comes rushing into the library, I could hear the frantic panic in her voice as she desperately wanders about the immense hall of the library.

“Oh thank heavens you’re here!” I speak agitatedly my voice breaking, “Olivia what’s happening to her.”

“He found out!” Olivia crouched she grabbed the girls palm, “Hopefully this works.” She pulled an elixir out of the robes pocket taking a couple drops and setting them on the girls wrist.

“Who found out?” I was panicking, I should be keeping my calm but the view before my own two eyes was scaring me.

“Se-Selene, he saw, it- I didn’t. he saw E-everything.” I hushed her, “It’s alright, I understand. We’ll solve this.”

It looked like Olivia understood what lyra was blabbering about, the rush in her hands and movements forced me to lift the dropped unknown potion and take care of the small container and its excess drops.

“I’ll explain later but you have to get Scorpius right now. Do whatever you need to do he must come here right now.” I nod already running off I pushed past the main library doors not caring or even asking questions on my Scorpius had to be there.

I was running even faster than I had when I heard Scorpius’ voice in my head, using every force I had in the rest of my body I managed to clear the thoughts for a couple more seconds sending a energy fuelled message to the blond slytherin boy.

“Where are you going?” Jade yelled after my speeding self, she watched me turn towards the dungeons of the castle, following she tried to catch up but as a speeding bolt, the only thing she caught was my maroon hair trailing off behind me.

I reached the entrance of the Slytherin common room. It was guarded by two gargoyle statures and a password. Never being down here before; I panicked. Lyra didn’t look like she had much time before she was out.

Catching sight of the one person I didn’t want to be around, I groaned. Why him, why Chenle of all freaking people? It just had to work that way, turning around to face him I forcibly pushed down any form of resentment and dignity I had.

“Where is Scorpius?”

“Look what the snake swallowed? It’s Selene Adams, have you come to apologise?” Jisung who was next to the blond spat smirking, the smug grin on his face annoying me more than it should.

“I’m not here to apologise to anyone.” I glared back at him; his words made me feel like shit. “Where’s Scorpius, Chenle?” I repeated my question my body language visibly showing I was under a time limit.

“Tell me?”

“Selene they’re not going to help.” The familiar echo from behind me voiced down the damp and dreary corridor. “Jade please help me, lyra has fallen and Olivia sent me to get Scorpius, its urgent.”

She nodded pushing past the two; specifically Jisung. “Ill get him now, wait out here.”

“Be fast. Please!”

I paced up and down the width of the small corridor, Jisung’s face immediately changed realisation dawned over his sharp features and he quickly followed the dark raven female; leaving the blond boy standing a meter away from me.

It felt awkward. I didn’t want to talk to him or even be around him. Though I could feel his penetrating gaze it pervaded my head trying to understand my thoughts, defiling me.

“Stop that.”

“What? Stop what?” he sneered his voice was back to the usual the voice he always had; the softness that was once there when we were at the mansion was nowhere to be found. I guess snakes venom spreads fast, especially of that snake is Rosier.

“Your staring.” I snapped back.

“So now I can’t use my eyes, and who said I take orders from you? Filthy half breed.” His words took me back to the times I’d let myself be lectured and broken down by him.

I wasn’t going to answer but the look of pure aggravation on my face said enough. Watching the now appeared Scorpius drag me off was enough to let it slide, lyra was more important anyways.

“You can tell me what happened later and why I’m desperately needed when Lyra’s the one in trouble but now we need to get to her as fast as possible.”

After pulling Scorpius on a wild goose chase to the library then noticing Olivia took Lyra to the lunch table on the outside of the castle gates and into the gardens past the wooden bridge. I had finally made it completely emphysematous.

“What is it, what is going on?” the blond boy was extremely confused and shocked. His movements were extremely erratic.

“You’re going to have to sit through this one, Scorpius.” Olivia spoke she was hesitant. Weary to all his reactions.

“Do I go? Or what do I…” after catching enough breath I ask the unanswered question. It seemed like this was a private ordeal, I was unsure of whether it seemed ok for me to be here.

“You’re related to him; he may need some ‘moral support’ through this.” Olivia hissed she was put in an uncomfortable position; I could see it myself. She lifted the lifeless right arm that belonged to lyra.

The cold wind brushing past our stiff bodies allowed me to lean into Scorpius for warmth and comfort. Though I think he was the one who needed comfort now, he looked extremely anxious.

“Do you know what’s happening?” I look into his eyes leaning over his shoulder. Scorpius gleams smiling lightly at my pouted facial expression.

“You look cute.” He mumbles, pulling me down to sit next to him. He sighed, it seemed like he had a rough day today. “To be completely honest, I don’t know what this is about, but I have a bad feeling about this if my predictions are correct.”

The unease was evident in the way he stations himself waiting for Lyra to wake from her deep slumber.

“Why did you ask me to bring him here?” My question was directed to Olivia, but I couldn’t take my eyes of Lyra her tired and overworked emotional toll showing through her face. I was stupid not to notice, the glimmer once in her soft eyes no longer there.

“I should have been there for her like she did for me.” I muttered voice breaking, it sounded weaker than it should have. Watching the ravenclaw witch wake her up from the antidote of the elixir she looked shaken and dissipated.

“Selene, Scorpius?” her voice was barely above a whisper, lyra woke up but she was still in a haze. “I’ll let Lyra explain, just give her time to awaken.” Olivia added letting lyra sit up, I moved to help the brunette witch. My friend, a sister to me.

After giving her a few moments to calm I spoke up nudging her to speak gently. She had energized just enough to talk. But as soon as she looked up and into Scorpius’ eyes the tears started. He was shocked, his lips trembling wanting to say something but unable to speak.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” I was truly disordered, completely flummoxed. The two were reacting lie they had shared some sort information. Everyone was reacting strangely. Even Jade was understanding her eyes flashed when she heard of Lyra being hurt.

“I think I know, but I’m unsure…” Scorpius was as still as a stone sculpture at this moment. “And it’s scaring me.” He breathed looking at her weak shivering fingers before him, they laid on the table as she sobbed, “Is it a possibility that I’m- I mean, that you’re…

Her voice was incredibly shaky, she yearned to hug him but it was difficult... Everything was telling her not to push his limits.

“I wanted to, -really- I wanted to tell you for so long. But fath-father didn’t let me. He kept me away too. I’m so sorry.”

@ajuniceuajuniceu @kkuljungwoo @sensiblebutch @kangkinoa @nctzen2020 @mystic-jungkook @merryandhappylele @bcbymingi @mochischeeks @rilakunma @jaehyunspaghetti @commentgirl @99jjh @johnnys-wifeu @misaraem @apricottulips @h2ogamergirl @angelsnowflake

#nctdream series #wayv senarios #kpop fanfic #nct hogwarts au #nct chenle #wayv yangyang #NCT 127 #nct fanfic #nct wayv #wayv x reader

28 notes · View notes

angelsandacceptance · 3 years

Text

Criss Angel Is A Douchebag

On yet another case, the four young hunters find themselves in Sioux City, Iowa. Walking along the street, looking for a hotel, they pass by many people doing acts of sorts, some singing, some dancing, and more than a few doing magic tricks.

Dean and Sam are forced to stop as they realize Chase and Harley had stopped walking behind them a ways back, watching (eyeing more like) a young magician doing a card trick.

Dean rolls his eyes as the two backtrack.

“What’re you doing?”

“Watching,” Chase replies simply.

“The show or the guy?” Dean asks, looking more annoyed by the second.

“Definitely both.”

“Does it matter?” Harley asks, looking at the guy up and down.

“Oh, I recognize him,” Sam says.

“You do?” Dean asks, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

“Yeah. That’s Jeb Dexter.”

“I don’t even want to know how you know that.”

“He’s famous of sorts.”

“Oh, I bet he is,” Harley mumbles.

“Those looks and that style. Surprised I haven’t seen him anywhere yet.”

“Like your dreams?” Dean mocks.

“Shut up, Dean. You’re only jealous you can’t rock guyliner like that.”

“Guyliner?” Dean asks slowly. He rolls his eyes at Jeb, who starts to act as though he’s having a seizure. “What a douchebag.”

“Shut up, Dean.”

“Come on! He’s faking a demon possession. Poorly, might I add.”

“So what? He’s hot!” Harley says.

Jeb, obviously hearing Harley’s comment, smirks as he locks eyes with her, giving her a wink.

“That’s it!” Dean exclaims, grabbing Harley and Chase by their arms and pulling them after him. “We’re leaving.”

As they continue walking, Dean and Harley hardly notice that he’s still holding onto her arm, despite Chase having yanked hers away almost immediately.

“I can’t believe people actually fall for that crap,” Dean says bitterly.

“It’s not all crap,” Sam defends.

“What part of that was not a steaming pile of bullshit?” Dean asks.

“Him. His looks. His hair. His sty-” Chase is cut off by a death stare from her older brother. She simply responds in the most mature way she can think of- sticking her tongue out at him.

“Okay, maybe that was crap, but that’s not all magicians,” Sam continues. “It takes skill.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot! You were into that sort of thing! You had a wand and a card deck.”

“Dude, I was thirteen,” Sam says, a little hushed. “It was a phase.”

“It’s not a phase, mom!” Chase says in a mocking voice. Sam shoots her a look. “Hey, don’t look at me like that! You all know I still have my wizarding robes, wand, and cauldron. So, it’s not like you were the only one with a magic phase, Sammy boy.”

“Just—it bugs me. You know, playing at demons and, and magic, when the real thing will kill you bloody,” Dean explains.

“But that’s the point. People like to get scared because it makes them feel better about real life. And to them, none of our lives are real.”

“Yeah, but it is real life. And it will kill you.”

“Like having ten stab wounds, but no tears in his shirt,” Harley says, reiterating the gist of their case.

“Exactly,” Dean says, looking at her. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

***

Vance’s assistant finishes packing up Vance’s belongings into a bag before turning to the four hunters. Chase and Harley are on their phones looking up Jeb.

“So did your boss have any enemies that you know of?” Dean asks.

“Vance had plenty of enemies.”

“How so?” Sam asks.

“He would steal from other magicians. All the time.”

“What would he steal?”

“Stage effects, closeup techniques, anything he could get his hands on.”

“Is that enough to get him killed?” Dean asks hurriedly, annoyed at the girls.

“These guys take this stuff pretty seriously.”

“Did you find anything weird in Vance's stuff? Well, weirder?”

“Matter of fact, I did.” She pulls a tarot card out of Vance’s suitcase. The ten of swords. “He hated card tricks. Never wanted them around. Let alone in his precious cape.” She hands Sam the tarot card before asking about Chase and Harley, “Are they okay?”

“They’re fawning over some douchebag.” Dean sighs.

***

The four hunters walk into an expansive theater, spotting people with cameras and microphones. Jeb stands over by a far table, talking on his phone. A couple of older men sit at one table, talking amongst themselves.

Dean makes a beeline for the older gentlemen while Chase and Harley wander near Jeb. After flashing their badges, Jeb shoos away his crew.

��Anything I can for you two lovely ladies?”

“Yes, actually. FBI, this is Manson and I’m Agent Franklin. We have some questions for you.”

Jeb raises his eyebrows at Chase but nods for her to continue. “Of course.”

“We’re looking into the death of Patrick Vance. Did you know him?”

Jeb shakes his head. “Know of him, yes. But I haven’t actually seen any of his work.”

“I have to ask, where were you at the time of his murder?” Harley asks.

“I was doing a show. My big show here isn’t until later so I lined up a few gigs before then. That night I was at Rowane’s Bar and Club. Drunk people like magic shows as much as the next guy.”

“Thank you. Do you happen to use tarot cards in any of your acts?” Chase asks.

“Nope. Just regular poker cards.”

“Thanks. Know anyone who does?”

“Not off the top of my head.”

“Well. That’s all. We might have to come back and ask more questions later.”

“If it means seeing you two again. Even if you don’t, look me up. I’m here for a few more days and I’d love to treat you girls to a drink.”

“Or we could get that drink now,” Harley says.

Jeb shoots her a big smile. “That is something I can live with.” He starts to lead the way to the bar. “Follow me.”

Harley and Chase follow him without much caution, waving Dean off when he shoots them a look.

***

“Why water? I thought we were having some fun?” Jeb asks Harley once they ordered their drinks.

“I don’t drink,” Harley shrugs, “Doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

“That sounds like an invitation.”

“More like a proposal,” Chase says, downing her drink; straight vodka on ice.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” Harley flirts.

“Well, what if I want it to be?”

“Guess you’ll just have to find out,” Chase says, leaning closer to Jeb, who keeps looking back and forth between the two friends. Harley rests her hand on his thigh.

Jeb smirks, raising his hand to brush a piece of hair away from Harley’s face and leans in to kiss her, but gets interrupted by a fist connecting with his face; specifically Dean’s fist.

“What the hell, Dean!” Harley yells.

“What, he touched you?” Dean says genuinely confused.

“Because he was about to kiss me, dumbass.”

“Look, dude, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend,” Jeb says defensively with his hands in the air.

“I don’t, at most we’re makeout buddies.”

Sam and Chase look to each other with smug, shit eating grins on their faces, eyes screaming, “knew it”.

“Really? I thought we were best buddies.” Dean says sarcastically.

“So did I, but apparently not. You constantly flirt with chicks and have one night stands. Let me have this one,” Harley says fuming.

“You can do better than him.”

“Maybe I don’t want to, ever think about that? So shut up and walk away before I make you.”

Dean raises his hands in surrender and goes to sulk in the corner of the room.

“Hmph, that’s what I thought,” Harley turns back to Jeb, “Wanna get out of here and away from that asshole?”

“Yes I do.”

Chase and Sam look from Harley, walking away with Jeb, to Dean, still pouting in the corner. “They are both such idiots,” Chase sighs.

“Yep,” Sam agrees, shaking his head.

***

Sam and Dean approach Chase, who is listening in on a conversation between Vernon and Charlie.

“He's crazy, and you know it,” Vernon says.

“He says he can do it.”

“Did you even try to talk him out of it?”

“Till I was blue in the face. But I tell you, Vernon, there was...there was something in his eyes.”

“'In his eyes'? You're both nuts.”

“The Chief, huh?” Dean says, breaking the conversation up.

“What's the matter? Chief not your type?”

“You know, I could have you both arrested for obstruction of justice.”

“How? You're no Fed.”

“We con people for a living, son. Takes more than a fake badge to get past us.”

The three Winchesters laugh at the comment.

“You got us. Yeah, we—we are actually—aspiring magicians,” Dean says.

Chase gives him a look.

“Yeah, we -- We came to the convention 'cause we thought we could learn something.”

“Yeah, get some ideas for our new show,” Chase says, going shopping with the story.

“Ooh, what kind of show?” Vernon asks.

“Well, it's-- It's a --“ Chase cuts herself off and looks to Sam.

“It's a family act.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you know, with the rings and doves and...rings.”

“You want to learn something? Stick around.”

With this, Jay walks onto stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, what you're about to witness is a feat so daring, So dangerous, even the great Houdini dared not attempt it. I give to you...The executioner!” He announces.

“As you can see, the Jacket is a real article. Thank you,” he says to a worker, who tightens a straight jacket around him. “You may take your seat. Now. I will have one minute to escape certain death. Let's see if I can do it.”

The curtain falls over the stage, showing only a silhouette of Jay. He seems to be struggling quite a bit with the jacket, which adds to the rising tension in the air.

“I don't think he's gonna make it,” Dean says.

“I don’t think I care.”

Sam lightly smacks Chase on the shoulder as she laughs quietly behind her hand.

Seconds pass, the one minute already half over. The crowd watches with bated breath as the minute timer finally stops and Jay is no longer struggling with the jacket, giving the impression he’d failed. Suddenly, Jay pushes aside the curtain, unharmed.

“Oh!” Dean exclaims. “That was amazing! That was fucking amazing!”

“Thought it was all crap,” Chase teases.

“That was...not humanly possible,” Sam says.

The two older siblings cast him worried glances as he clenches his jaw, deep in thought. They jump slightly when Chase’s phone starts to ring.

“Is that Harley?” Dean asks worriedly.

“Yes, now shut up.”

The two boys watch and listen to only one side of the phone call, their expressions growing more confused while Chase listens to Harley lowkey freaking out, horror reflecting in her eyes.

***

The most interesting thing happened during Harley’s post coital nap. A noose came behind Jeb Dexter while he was posing in the mirror and dragged him up to the ceiling fan. It was a quick death as the force of him being pulled up snapped his neck.

Harley stirred, but slept for another 5 minutes before waking up to find Jeb’s body dangling from the ceiling fan. She immediately calls Chase, “Hey, so um we got a problem.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” Chase’s mind goes to a hundred different possibilities, all of them worse than the last. “Are you okay?”

“I am, but um Jeb’s not so lucky. He’s kind of dead.”

“What?” Chase exclaims. Harley can hear Dean and Sam in the background, before a loud “Ow,” presumably from Dean.

“Yeah, he’s hanging from a noose in his hotel room. I don’t really know what to do.”

“Um. Uh, okay, well, does anyone know you’re there?”

“No, but my fingerprints are all over the body.”

“Um, right. That’s an issue. Maybe we should skip town and let the boys deal with the rest of this. How are you going to get away with this? First of all, they’ll question you. While doing that, they’ll realize you aren’t FBI-”

“Questioning her for what?” Harley can hear Sam ask.

“Guys, shut up!” Chase snaps.

“I mean do they have my fingerprints in the database if I’m legally dead?”

“Oh, yeah, that. Sweet, okay, so please - You’re dressed, right?” “I can be.”

“Okay, yeah. Do that, then get your lucky ass down here asap, so that we can fucking not get charged for murder please.”

“Okay see you in a bit.”

***

“What was that about?” Dean demands.

“Um, yeah, Jeb’s dead. But it’s fine!”

“How is that fine?” Sam asks.

“Because Harley is legally dead so she won’t get charged for murder!”

“How does that make Jeb being dead, “fine”?” Sam asks.

“I’m trying to be positive!”

“Not a good look on you,” Dean says.

“Oh shut up, you pile of horse manure.”

“Let’s just get back to the hotel room. I just shot Harley a text. She’s going to meet us there.”

“Okay,” Chase says, ignoring Dean who is still looking at her indignantly for calling him horse shit.

***

“So, I’m never having a one night stand again,” Harley announces as she enters the room.

Dean goes to say something, which Chase assumes is going to be something stupid and hypocritical, so she stops him by smacking her hand on the back of his head. He pouts, turning to glare at her, but she just looks back at Harley, completely unbothered.

“This has to be something to do with Jay, right?” Sam asks.

“Probably. The tarot card of the ten swords found on the guy with ten stab wounds, right after Jay does the table of death,” Chase says.

“Yeah, and now the executioner ends with Jeb hanged,” Dean continues.

“Whatever this is, we have to stop it soon, before we end up dead. Wait, have any of you bothered checking yourselves for tarot cards? I’ve done it several times since Harley called me.”

“Only one I have on me is the one I pulled from Jeb’s pocket.” Harley sighs.

“Well, let’s start with some research on Jay.”

“Sounds good,” Chase says, after smacking Dean once more after he went to make a snide comment to Harley.

***

“So, it turns out Jay was a pretty big deal in the seventies,” Sam says.

“Which in magician land means what exactly?” Dean asks.

“Big enough to play at radio city music hall.”

“What got him stuck in their "where are they now?" File?”

“Looks to me like the only thing is that he got old,” Chase says. “Okay, so maybe incredible Jay is using real magic to stage a comeback,” Harley says.

“It’s possible,” Sam says.

“Could be some kind of spell that works as a death transference?”

“How does the tarot card mix into it?” Dean asks.

“Well, it looks like that’s how he chooses his targets. If they have a tarot card on them, they’ll be the ones to die when the spell takes place,” Chase says.

“Man,” Dean says, “hope I die before I get old. Whole thing seems brutal, don't it?”

“You’re not allowed to die young, Dean,” Chase says.

“Already have.”

“Do you think we will?” Sam asks.

“Will what?” Dean asks. Harley and Chase roll their eyes at his idiocy.

“Die before we get old.”

“Like Dean just said, technically you both already have,” Harley points out.

“You know what I mean. I mean, do you think we'll still be chasing demons when we're 60?”

“I mean, what else is there to do? Crocheting?” Chase laughs.

“Yeah, I don’t see myself settling down,” Harley adds. “And what is better than chasing demons?”

“No, I think we'll be dead,” Dean says,“for good. What? You want to end up like -- Like Travis? Huh?Or Gordon, maybe?”

“There’s Bobby,” Chase says.

“Oh, yeah, there's a poster child for growing old gracefully.”

“Maybe we’ll be different,” Sam says.

"What kind of Kool-Aid you drinking, man? Sammy, it ends bloody or sad. That's just the life,” Dean says.

“And if we could win somehow?” Chase offers.

“Win?” Harley asks.

“If there was a way we could just...put an end to all of it,” Chase explains.

“Is there something you two ain’t telling me?” Dean asks.

“No, just curious, I guess.”

“No,” Sam says.

“Sammy.”

“Look, I'm just saying...I just wish there was a way we could...go after the source. That's all. Cut the head off the snake.”

“Well, the problem with the snake is that it has a thousand heads. Evil bitches just keep piling out of the Volkswagen.”

“Guess you’re right.”

“How about we split up. I’ll see if I can find anything on these tarot cards that confirms Chase’s theory. You find Jay. Chase, you wanna go with me or do you, Harley?” Dean asks, looking hopefully at the latter.

“I’ll go with you,” Chase offers, hoping to spare Harley any unnecessary comments from her brother.

Dean shoots Chase a look before sighing. “Okay, that settles it. Let’s go.”

***

“Why did you sleep with Jeb?” Sam asks, “You never have one night stands.”

“To get back at Dean,” Harley says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“For?”

“Being a hypocrite.”

“You slept with someone out of spite?”

“Yep,” Harley says before adding, “I don’t want to win.”

“Why? We can have normal lives.”

“In case you haven’t noticed I’m not exactly normal. A normal life doesn’t suit me. I need action, excitement, adventure.”

“You could act.”

“I’d rather hunt.”

“People die hunting.”

“People die without it.”

“I guess, but we do need to stop the apocalypse.”

“Yeah, don’t need a toilet paper shortage on our hands.”

***

Dean and Chase stare at the body.

“Told you,” Chase says simply.

“Okay. Okay, you were right. It’s likely transference magic and this pathetic douche didn’t kill himself.”

“Dean, can you shut up for one moment?”

“No.”

Chase groans. “This is why Harley and you fight! Because you don’t have the fucking balls on you to make her yours, but then you go and be an ass to her when she shows interest in other guys!”

“I wouldn’t have been happy had you slept with Mr. Guyliner either.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have reacted like a jealous boyfriend. Here’s the thing. You have got to stop being so overprotective of her. She has shown time and time again she can handle herself.”

“But she shouldn’t have to,” Dean argues.

Chase rolls her eyes. “Just fucking date her already.”

“I don’t like her like that!”

“Bullshit.”

Chase and Dean quickly exit the hotel room, to go meet back with Sam and Harley.

“It’s not bullshit. It’s the truth.”

“Okay, fine,” Chase says, stopping and turning to Dean.

“I want you to imagine something for me.”

“I’m scared.”

“Shut up, Dean! Just do it.”

“Fine!”

“Imagine Harley dating someone. Some guy. Let’s say he’s tall, dark hair, guyliner, Harley’s alt dream boy. Now imagine them together. They’ll kiss, hold hands, whatever the hell else. He’s her boyfriend so he probably won’t like how touchy you are with her. So you’ll have to stay hand’s off. They’ll get married, sleep together, grow old together. Now, don’t have to tell me, but think for a moment how you’d feel watching that from afar. Because I’m pretty sure you feel a bit differently about that situation than if it were me and my boyfriend. That difference is called loving someone versus being in love with them. You’d be happy for me, but you’d be angry, pouty, and jealous if it were her. Just in case you needed an eye opener.”

Chase continues to walk on, ignoring Dean, who is staring after her with wide eyes, a pained look of discomfort on his features before he hurriedly rushes after her, deep in thought.

***

Harley and Sam arrive in the lobby first, they wait a few minutes before Chase and Dean walk through the lobby doors.

“Hey,” Sam greets.

“Hey, Chase,” Harley says.

“Hey, Harley!”

“Maid found Jeb hanging from the ceiling fan. Police think it was a suicide,” Dean says.

“Who was right? That’s right. Me,” Chase says.

“About what? The death transference?” Harley asks.

“Yep!”

“Okay, good, that’s a lead.”

“Any connection between the victims?” Sam questions.

“Jeb was a total douche bag to Jay,” Dean offers.

“What about Vance?” Harley asks.

“Apparently, Vance was heckling Jay at the bar the day he was killed,” Chase answers.

“Okay, so Jay sneaks a card into Vance's pocket, does the table of death…” Sam says.

“And Vance takes 10 swords to the chest,” Dean adds.

“Then Jay slips a noose and Jeb doesn't. Hell of a trick.”

“Hell of a way to wake up,” Harley pouts.

Dean grimaces, as though unhappy about the reminder of the situation. “Yeah, I think it's time we had a little chat with Jay. Any luck tailing him?”

“He slipped us,” Sam says quietly.

“He slipped you? Both of you?” Chase asks in disbelief. “He’s 60.”

“He’s a magician,” Sam says in defense.

***

Winchesters and Co. follow Jay up to his hotel room, guns drawn. After Jay enters his room, Dean kicks down the door.

“Up against the wall!” Dean yells.

“God, who are you? What do you want?” Jay asks, panicking.

“Now!”

“We know what you've been up to,” Sam adds.

“You been working some real bad mojo to jump-Start your act,” Dean states.

“Mojo? Really?” Chase shakes her head at Dean, before re-aiming her gun at Jay.

“What? I don't know what you're talking about.” Jay says frantically.

“Look, we know you put a spell on those tarot cards,” Harley says, rolling her eyes.

“Messing with real magic?” Dean asks.

“"Real magic"? Come on, there's no such thing as real magic,” Jay insists.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, believe me. I've been around this stuff my whole life. It's all just --It's -- It's illusions. It's tricks. It -- It's all fake.”

“Jeb hanging from his ceiling fan too? ‘Cause that looked pretty real,” Harley says.

“What? Something happened to Jeb?”

“Got hung right after you slipped the noose.”

They tie Jay up, and watch him carefully for a few minutes, before they finally start wondering what’s up.

“I swear, I don’t know what you guys are talking about. Just let me go!”

“Something’s not right,” Dean finally speaks up.

“Usually they’re whipping some bad hoodoo at us by now,” Sam agrees.

Chase gives her younger brother a look. “Seriously? Dean making those comments is expected. But you?”

“What do you want to do?” Sam asks Chase. “Or is the only thing you’re good for making comments about us?”

“Wow, rude.”

Sam shrugs.

“What do we want to do?” Dean reiterates.

“Well, if it’s not him, who is it?” Harley asks.

Dean rolls his eyes. “What, want revenge for lover-boy or something?”

“Dean, we are literally here for this job. Can you shut the fuck up for once?” Chase groans.

“Yes, Dean, I totally want revenge for someone I’ve known less than a day. That makes total sense,” Harley snarks.

Dean opens his mouth to make another comment, but Sam interrupts, shooting him a pointed look.

“Even if Jay's not working the magic, he's still getting the reward. His shows are selling out,” Sam says. “All right. So, then, whoever it is, they're obviously in Jay's corner,” Chase points out.

Dean, as though suddenly remembering to be professional (and less of a dick) carries on with the case. “All right, so we got Vernon and Charlie on the list. Anyone else?”

“Not that we know of,” Harley sighs.

“Uh, well, we could just… I don’t know. Ask him?” Chase says.

“Or not,” Harley says, noting that the chair is empty.

The other three hunters turn to see an empty chair.

“Are you fucking with me right now? God dammit, mother Mary!”

Harley laughs a little at Chase’s wording.

“Guess we should have seen that one coming,” Dean sighs.

“He couldn’t have gotten that far,” Sam reasons.

“Let’s go look for him,” Harley says.

They all nod and leave the room to search for the missing magician, unbeknownst to them that he had been hiding in the closet the whole time.

***

Jay had called the cops on the hunters and they came face to face with each other in the lobby. The gang got arrested and thrown in holding cells. Dean and Harley together while Chase and Sam were beside them (the latter two who are listening in on the former, without their knowledge or consent).

“Why?” Dean asks.

“Why what?” Harley says shooting him a cautious and confused glare.

“Why’d you sleep with him?”

“Why do you care? We’re not together.”

“I know, but if you get a boyfriend or girlfriend our whole dynamic will change. No more late nights cuddling and watching Scooby-Doo. No more kissing or flirting.”

“Dean, you’ll always be my main man. Even if some other guy comes around.”

“Or girl?”

“Or girl, so do everyone a favor and stop being a hypocritical ass. We’ll still be flirty friends in our old age. Nothing is going to change that.”

“Right, yeah.” Dean says not buying it for a second, but letting the issue lie.

“I can’t believe you got that jealous over Jeb.” Harley laughs.

“I wasn’t jealous.”

“Totally were.”

“Was not.”

“Whatever, you’re no fun.”

“I’ll show you how much fun I can be.”

“No, Dean.”

“C’mon, you fuck some random magician, but not me!” Dean yells indignantly.

“Yeah well. Maybe it was the guyliner,” Harley huffs.

“I’m a better lay anyday.”

“I don’t know Dean, it was kinda the best sex of my life.”

***

Sam and Chase turn to each other, and as silently as they can (which isn’t very silent because both Dean and Harley hear them), fangirl about the couple-to-be. They literally begin to wave their hands, screeching into their palms, jumping around. It’s kind of embarrassing.

***

“Jay. Thanks for dropping the charges,” Sam says.

“Yeah, it’s nice to not be in a cell anymore,” Chase nods.

“Yeah, especially when locked with him,” Harley jokes, motioning towards Dean, who just laughs and shakes his head at her.

“You mind telling us why you did it?” Dean asks, turning to Jay, suspicious of him.

“We have to talk,” Jay says.

***

“I was just a kid when we first met. All I knew was how to cheat at cards. Charlie got me out of more scrapes than I can count. Hell, I would have been dead by the age of 20 if it hadn't been for him,” Jay sighs, “He was more than my friend. He was my brother.”

“I'm sorry, Jay.” Sam offers.

“Look, I should have listened to you guys when you told me that my show was killing people.”

“Thank you,” Harley says, not exactly tactfully.

“Well, you weren't the one pulling the trigger,” Dean adds, trying to cover up Harley’s previous comment.

“Yeah, but someone did, and I want to find out who did this to Charlie, so I'll do whatever you guys say. Just tell me what to do.” Jay says.

“Jay, whoever's doing this...They like you. They're probably close to you. Did Charlie and Vernon get along?” Chase asks, trying to be careful, but also not wanting to miss any leads for the sake of sparing his feelings.

“No. No, it's not Vernon.”

“He's the only one that makes sense,” Harley comments.

“Charlie and Vernon were your family, Jay,” Sam states, his voice understanding.

“And now Charlie's gone,” Dean adds.

“Yeah, but...they butted heads sometimes, but Vernon could never do something like this,” Jay says, denial evident in his voice.

“You sure about that?” Harley asks.

“See, the thing about real magic is it's a whole lot like crack. People do surprising things once they get a taste of it,” Dean adds.

“You better be damn sure about this. Vernon's all I got left,” Jays states.

***

The four hunters enter Vernon’s hotel room after Jay had called him away.

“Wow. It's like a...magic museum,” Sam says, almost in awe.

“You must be in heaven. This guy doesn't travel light,” Dean jokes.

“He’s been on the road forever, Dean, this is probably all of his stuff.” Harley laughs.

“Let’s get started,” Chase comments, as she’s the least distracted.

They all look around the room, determined to find anything to help them with their current lead. Finally, Chase stops, sighing. “This is useless. There’s nothing here!”

“This is just a bunch of old-Timey magic stuff --None of it magic,” Dean says after a few minutes of looking through Vernon’s stuff.

“No herbs, no candles, and no tarot cards,” Sam agrees.

“I'll be damned!” Dean exclaims.

“What?” Chase asks.

Dean holds up a vintage poster with a young Charlie on it; the only problem is Charlie shouldn’t have been born yet (from the looks of the poster, it’s older, as though from a circus advertisement). “Look like anyone we know?”

***

The four hunters rush to the stage room, minds reeling. They get there in time to hear a young Charlie offer his two friends immortality.

“Not so fast!” Dean exclaims, climbing up the stage steps, followed by the others. “I ain't Guttenberg, and this ain't "Cocoon."”

“Immortality. That's a neat trick,” Chase says, standing in front of Charlie.

Charlie smiles at her. “It’s not a trick.” A noose drops from the ceiling, looping around Chase’s throat and pulling her up. “It’s magic.”

Just before Dean could try to help her, Charlie places a hand on his shoulder. Dean suddenly turns to Harley and raises his gun.

“Um, Dean, what the fuck. Bad guy that way,” Harley exclaims, pointing at Charlie. He simply smirks at her, shooting. She ducks, narrowly escaping the bullet.

Sam shoots Charlie, and he catches the bullet in his teeth. “Bullet catch,” Charlie smiles. “Been working on that.”

“Get him!” Chase yells out, keeping a hand in between the rope and her neck, breathing shallowly. “Can someone just fucking gank him already?”

Sam is pushed onto a table, bloody swords dangling above him, ready to drop at any second. Charlie watches it all with a smile.

“Dean, what the fuck!” Harley exclaims again, trying to help, but not being able to do much other than avoid Dean’s bullets.

Suddenly, Charlie gasps, looking down at his stomach, where blood is blossoming across his shirt. He looks to Jay, who has a pack of tarot cards in his hand, the other hand wrapped around a knife he had plunged into himself.

“Jay… You chose these strangers over me?” Charlie asks. Jay only looks at him sadly, as though holding back tears. Charlie collapses to the ground, the tarot card that killed him in hand.

The rope snaps, dropping Chase to the ground unceremoniously. The straps holding Sam to the table break, allowing him to be free. Dean, having stopped shooting at Harley, looks around with confused eyes, having missed the past few minutes’ events.

“You okay?” Sam asks Chase, while Dean and Harley check up on each other.

Chase, gasping a little for air still, nods. “Yeah. I’m good.”

***

The four hunters, having packed up, and gotten ready to leave, stop to say goodbye to Jay.

“Hey, Jay,” Dean says, walking into the bar. “We just wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday.”

“I killed my best friend yesterday, and you want to thank me?” Jay asks in grieving disbelief.

“Where’s Vernon?” Sam asks, unsure of how to respond to Jay’s statement.

“Oh, he’s gone. He said he didn't want to speak to me again after what I did to Charlie.”

“You know, Jay. Charlie was never going to give up what he was doing. You did the right thing,” Harley says.

“Are you sure about that? You know, Charlie was like my brother. And now he's dead... because I did "the right thing." He offered me a gift, and I just threw it back in his face. So now I have to spend the rest of my life old and alone. What's so right about that?” Jay stands from his table and leaves, the card deck he’d been shuffling discarded on the table.

“Jay, your cards,” A bartender says.

“Throw them away.”

Before Jay exits fully, Chase stops him. “I really am sorry. If I had to do that, I don’t know what I’d do. So, I’m sorry.” Jay nods to her, exiting the bar.

Dean sighs. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I could go for a beer.”

“I’m going to take a walk,” Sam says.

“Do you want any company?” Chase asks.

“No, I’m good. Just want to think.”

“Okay.”

After Sam departs, the three other sit down at a table and order drinks; Dean, beer, Chase, whiskey, and Harley, a Shirley Temple.

“Dean, what’s that on your eyes?” Chase asks suddenly, seeing dark circles under his eyes. Dean rubs at his eyes, shaking his head.

“Nothing.”

“Dean, did- Did you try putting eyeliner on?” Chase asks.

Harley’s head snaps up from her phone to look at Dean with wide eyes and a smile. “You know you could’ve asked for help? Wait… Where did you even get it?”

“Where you get eyeliner, duh,” Dean scoffs.

“Did you rummage through my stuff, Dean?” Chase asks.

“No.”

“Did you go through mine?” Harley asks.

Dean avoids direct eye contact. “Maybe.”

“Dean! What did I tell you about going through people’s things?” Chase demands.

“Not to do it.”

“And what did you do?”

“Okay, I went through Harley’s stuff and got eyeliner and tried putting it on but it looked bad, and I couldn’t figure out how to take it off.”

“Did you take anything else?” Chase sighs.

Once again, he avoids eye contact with both girls. “Noooo.”

“For fuck’s sake, Dean,” Harley sighs.

Chase smiles, but soon, it turns into full on laughter at the thought of Dean putting on eyeliner. Harley joins her and Dean sits there, pouting and fighting a smile.

Sam wanders in during this and sits down, leans over to Dean, asking, “What’s so funny?”

This only makes the girls laugh harder.

“Don’t worry, Dean. I’ll teach you how to put it on.”

***

Harley and Dean are in the girls’ bathroom.

“Okay, so you want to pull down your lower lid, then you can apply eyeliner to your waterline,” Harley explains.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Dean groans.

“It’s your fault for putting it on wrong. Now you gotta learn how to put it on right.”

“I really don’t need to learn, the eyeliner was a moment of weakness.”

“And if you have another moment of weakness you’ll need to know how to do it right,” Harley laughs.

“How happy will this make you?”

“Extremely.”

“Fine… What’s a waterline?”

“It’s like the very edge of your lower lid.”

“Wait is it supposed to touch your eye?” Dean asks.

“Yes, Dean, you put it in your eyes,” Harley snarks.

“Okay, I get it. That was a dumb question.”

Harley hands Dean the eyeliner brush; he pulls down his lower lid and hesitantly applies the eyeliner creme before doing the same a little more confidently to the other eye.

“Good job! Now comes the hard part. Less scary, but harder,” Harley jokes, “I want you to try your very best to stay close to your lash line while applying to your upper lid.”

“Can you say that again? This time in english.”

“Put the eyeliner directly above your eyelashes on your upper eyelid.”

“Why couldn’t you have just said that?”

“I did.”

Dean scoffs, but nonetheless does what he’s told.

“Good, now the easiest bit,” Harley smiles.

“There’s more!?” Dean exclaims, shocked and somewhat disappointed.

“Honey, you’re only halfway done. Now close your eyes and smudge the living daylights out of that eyeliner.”

“Can’t I be done?” Dean sighs.

“Depends, do you want to look hot or do you want to look sexy?” Harley smirks.

“Sexy.”

“Then smudge the damn eyeliner.”

“Fine,” Dean smudges the damn eyeliner before opening his eyes, “I look ridiculous.”

“Look at me,” Harley demands. She inspects his eyeliner making sure none of it is on his nose and wiping off the parts that are a bit to close, “Perfect. Last step; wash the eyeliner off your fingers.”

Naturally he ignores this and wipes it on his jeans. Harley rolls her eyes, but smiles. He can't help but grin seeing her reaction.

1 note · View note

avaria-revallier · 4 years

Text

Chapter 6: Cooking dwarrows and poisoning trolls

The moment Bella sat down Dwalin was by her side. “Namad, here. Drink something. You must be exhausted. Have some of this too, you must eat properly. Bombur, how is that fire going?” The warrior fussed.

It had been adorable and sweet for the first week. The second week her mood dropped significantly. Now the third week had ended. The morning after her speech of home and family, after they had learned of how old she is, all hope was lost. They treated her like an invalid.

Dori snatched her pack as soon as they stopped for the night, preparing her bedroll next to Dwalin and Thorin.

This had become her spot now and Bella felt safe and secure yet a bit jumpy around their leader. She had to remind herself almost permanently that this is not ‘her’ Thorin. Despite the knowledge of this fact, her heart betrayed her and started to increase its beating from a steady thumping into a fluttering humming bird every time he was near or simply looked at her. Curse that traitorous heart.

Bombur wouldn’t even let her chop the vegetable, while Dwalin dragged her back to camp every time she attempted to sneak off to train. Fili and Kili avoided her completely, whispering behind her back and hastily shutting up when she strolled close. Oin came up every evening, determined to check for a possible injury. Bella wasn’t sure, how she would have managed to injure herself at all, with all those fussing dwarrows around but appreciated the thoughts. Nori took on her watch, grumbling something about her needing the sleep. She slumps down next to Ori. He was eagerly writing and sketching in his journal.

“Ori, would you be so kind and explain again the difference between those blue gem-types?” the young scribe beamed at her, closing the book.

He was the only one who didn’t treat her differently. Maybe because he knew all to well how it was to be the youngest. Dori fussed over him enough as it was. The pure thought of having to deal with ten of Doris kind… Ori shuddered.

“I would be delighted.” He started chatting away about mining and how the different gems where found in different depths and how the purity grade was determined.

Soon he noticed that the hobbit lass wasn’t really listening to him. She stared over to where the better part of the company was gathered. Following her line of sight, he spotted Thorin. The dwarven king was sitting on a fallen tree. He talked to Dwalin about something and frowned at his friend’s response.

Ori looked back at Bella. In her eyes gleams a sadness so deep Ori nearly flinched. A storm of sorrow, pain, fear and longing? raged in her green eyes, dying them nearly black. He had seen this before. In the eyes of the survivors of Moria. He reached out to her, gently touching her shoulder.

“Are you all right?” he asks with worry in his voice.

Bella jumped, one hand reaching to her hip, as if she was to draw a sword. Oddly there was no sword on her and the dagger from Dwalin hang on the other side. Ori frowned confused. That might have been the reaction of a veteran warrior, but definitely not one of gentle folk.

“I … I am sorry. I think I… I need some time for myself. I won’t go far, I promise. I just need to think for a bit. Tell them… Tell them I won’t talk to them for at least a month if they come after me. I just – just can’t.” she choked, turning to hide her tears and slipped away.

This whole situation felt wrong. Bella couldn’t hold back the tears any more when she reached the forrest. The trees hummed comforting in the warm breeze. The company hadn’t cared for her before. She had been just dead weight to them. Another piece of luggage they had to look after. Dwalin hadn’t been that sweet and caring, Dori wouldn’t fuss and Bombur would hand her the odd jobs. Kili and Fili acted the same by now. It was familiar but hurt so much at the same time. Ori was her save haven as is Bifur.

The warrior wouldn’t fuss over her, just handing her a knife and a block of wood. Silently they would carve by the fire. Her sculptures were never really anywhere near identifiable, but he would just chuckle and let her try the next evening again. Thorin, well Thorin was another matter. He acted cold and distant. He would watch her with his indifferent expression but sometimes it seemed like he acted out of character. Neither the grumpy and brooding king nor the stoic and steeled warrior. He would be just Thorin, the blacksmith holding her heart.

The nightmares had returned. Every night when she closed her eyes the pictures of her bloodied dwarrows hunted her down. Empty eyes staring at her. Fili and Kili, Dwalin, Bofur and Bifur. Thorin. If she had been a little bit better at that time. A bit faster. Stronger. Even now they seemed to stare at her, reach out for her, calling.

‘It is your fault.’ They whispered accusingly.

Sobbing she sat down by a fallen tree. The earth under her bare feet pulsed slightly as if it wanted to tell her ‘do not worry, I am here’. The trees whispered stories of old. Small flowers tilting their heads towards the hobbit lass. The forest reached out to her, comforted her with its presence. The last rays of sunlight broke through the leaves, coating the lass and the flowers in gold.

Shaking she exhales. Crying had never solved any problems. Placing her palms on the grass she closed her eyes, focusing on the voice of the forrest. It told her stories of cold winters and the following spring as if it wanted to tell her all will be fine. After some time, she opens her eyes. A vast field of flowers surrounding her. Giggling she brushes away the tears. It would be fine. She would make sure everything would be fine.

Humming she picks some small blue flowers and a couple of daisies. Bella would put them into Dwalins beard once back at the camp. She would have to talk to them again. She is no invalid nor a child. She could carry her own pack, hold watch at night and most definitely chop the vegetables!

Happy with her choice of flowers, she had gathered some more for Ori to sketch, Bella decides to go back.

Loud, heavy footsteps, the distant splintering of wood and a painful scream of the forrest where the only warnings. In a matter of seconds Bella was swept off the ground. A surprised squeak sounded before the air was forcefully pressed from her lungs.

‘Snap’. The sharp pain followed immediately. At least one of her ribs was broken.

“Bert, Bert! Look what I found.” The trolls scraping voice rang in her ears.

“That’s not even a mouth full!” boomed the addressed.

“Is not for eating. I found it, so I keep it.” The first troll yanked her away from the reaching hands of Bert.

“And we feed it too? Don’t bother, better eating it now.” The third troll intervened.

“I, ah, I eat plants, so you won’t need to worry about feeding me.” Bella managed to say with a smile.

“See! No struggle at all.” The one holding her chimed.

Heavily he sat down, bringing Bella nearer to his face. He stank worse than she remembered. Something between rotten eggs and long forgotten fish. The stench stings in her eyes and nose. He poked her into the stomach, forcing the air from her lungs once more.

“Funny little thing. What are you?” he demands to know, poking her once more.

‘Smile. Ignore the pain and smile.’ Thousand thoughts are rushing through her mind. Bella couldn’t panic now. She simply refused to. ‘This is not right. Smile. They are early. We are not even at the farm. Gandalf, where is he. Thorin. It hurts.’

“I… I am a hobbit.” She managed to state.

‘Smile!’ With some effort the hobbit managed to force her lips into a polite smile, as she would gift Lobelia.

“I, well, I am a wandering cook. We hobbits are quite famous for our skills and our stew is to die for.”

“Bert look! I found us a cook!” the first chimed again, pleased with himself.

A large wooden spoon landed on his head. The troll flinched, tightening the grip around Bella. With another snapping sound a wave of pain flooded her body.

“Are you saying I can’t cook? A bit appreciation would be nice. ‘Thank you for the lovely stew, Bert. That was really tasty, Bert.’ But all you do is complaining, Bill.” He rumbled, swinging his spoon once again.

“Tom, say something!” Bill demanded, looking at the quiet troll.

“He’s right… everything tastes like mutton-“ he starts, ducking away as the spoon aims at his head.

“-except the mutton, which tastes like fish.” Finishes Bill.

“Shut your cakehole.” Bert grumbles, stirring furiously in the large cauldron. “We don’t have all night. I don’t fancy turning to stone.”

In her clouded mind an idea sparked. It might be crazy, but most likely better than the risk of breaking anything else. Bella shifted slightly in the grip of her captor.

“Excuse me master Bert? I can see you really did brew a very nice stew there. As I can tell, that you are an excellent cook. If I might suggest something that might be in your interest?” she smiled, clenching her shaking hands.

“What?” he boomed, not looking up from the stew.

“Well, I am really thankful for your hospitality and would love to repay you. My mother was rather famous for her gift. You see, she could brew a stew that held special effects.” Her heartbeat increased rapidly, waiting for his response.

“And what would that be?” he glanced at her, slightly interested.

“Ah, well… you see.”

“Yes? What is it?” Tom raised one eyebrow. She had the attention of the trio.

“This is a secret family recipe…” Bella watched them lean in to her.

“Spill it! Tell us about the secret thingy!” Bill demanded, shaking her impatiently.

“Yes, yes! The stew… the special stew makes you able to walk in the sunlight. You see, we hobbits just turn into trees when exposed to sunlight.” The lie easily slipped from her lips.

“Do you take is for fools, you little ferret? Trying to poison us, eh?” he booms, snatching her out of Bills hand and letting her dangle near the fire.

“N-no! Of course not. How could I ever be so impolite to my gracious hosts?” Bella forces herself to smile once again.

Her ribs felt like they where on fire and her feet where Bert held her began to turn numb. Small black dots invaded her sight, but she forced them back. She trapped her pain und unpleasantness inside a dark corner of her mind. It would be no help at all if she would faint now.

“Drop her!” now she even began to hallucinate. That couldn’t have been Kili, as he is safe and sound with the others.

“I said: Drop her!” the shouting was without a doubt Kili!

The next thing Bella remembers is being thrown through the air and landing on something oddly familiar. Kili had broken her fall, sadly Bella had broken something as well while colliding with his armor.

In a matter of moments, she was dragged behind a large tree and ordered to keep herself hidden. The battle didn’t rage for long. Once the trolls found out the dwarrows wouldn’t attack one of their own, they grabbed Ori by the arms and legs and threatened the company to lay down arms. Which they did. The trolls stripped them off their armor and clothes, stuffing them in sacks and piling them like presents under a Christmas tree.

“Where did you throw her? I quite liked that pet. She was funny.” Bill pouted and promptly earned a whack from Bert.

Creeping forward as silently as she could, Bella made her way towards a large boulder. Between the others she could spot Thorin, Kili and Fili. Dwalin was not far and Ori was still a bit green around the nose. Bombur lay on top of the pile.

“Don’t be like that, you can get another.” Tom patted Bills back, making him spill his drink.

An argument broke out and Bella took this chance to overcome the small distance between her and her dwarrows. Sheltering herself behind her brother she takes out her small dagger and starts to loosen the ropes.

“Listen, I know you will probably hate me for this plan, but you have to do exactly like I tell you. Understood?” she whispers hardly loud enough for them to hear.

She tried to sell them her plan as well as possible. They all looked at her as if she was insane when she moved on to Nori. Kili looked so betrayed while his brother eyed her as if she was insane. Thorin was no better. He glowered at her as if she had suggested for him to marry the troll.

“For Yavannas sake, Thorin! Put your damn pride away and consider your options! Do you want to end as a troll-snack before you even laid eyes upon your mountain? I don’t want to see them die again, so get your stubborn head out of your ass and do as I say.” Bella hissed under her breath while dragging Nori to the trees.

The argument of the trolls had ended with Bert hitting the other two on the head, demanding silence while he decided how to proceed with the dwarrows.

“How good can you imitate a troll?” Bella wanted to know from the thief.

Nori looked down at the small hobbit lass. She had courage and a whole lot of that!

She had called him Thorin and not master Oakenshield as she used to. And the worst part of it, he liked the sound of that. It had a nice ring to it, coming from her mouth that is.

‘You would even like it if she had insulted you.’ The voice inside his mind snorts.

Her plan was ridiculous and really humiliating, but she was right, he didn’t want to end as a snack for a troll. He had heard only half of her words, too taken by the fact of her calling his name. Did she really tell him to snap out of it?! There was something else in her words that made him frown. Something she said sounded odd.

A deep voice asked if they couldn’t make a pie out of the dwarrows. Another argument between the trolls broke loose and every time it seemed to die down, another bodyless voice intervened and fueled it again.

“Nothing wrong with a raw dwarf! Nice and crunchy!” Bill grabbed Bombur from their pile.

Voices got loud, insults were thrown at the ugly beings, but nothing seemed to help. They could only watch while Bombur was lowered to the open mouth of the troll.

“I wouldn’t risk it if I where you.” Thorin raised his voice over the others. “That one there is spoiled. He has parasites, as we do all.”

The troll halted in his motion, looking at the dwarven king.

“Parasites?” he asks.

“Aye, parasites. We were on our way to a healer, to get rid of our little ‘problem’.” He managed to say.

Every word burned like acid in his throat. The trolls all looked at him, doubtful but curious. Thorin clenches his hands into fists, opening and closing them a few times to release the tension. ‘This’ he decided ‘will never ever again be mentioned.’ Today would leave a blank page in their records.

He kicks his nephews in the back, as good as he can manage from his laying position. Kili joins in on their little act, as does Fili. They all first hesitate but choosing between swallowing once pride and being swallowed is not that hard a choice at all.

“I have huge parasites!” “Mine are the biggest parasites!” “They are as big as my arm!” to only mention a few.

Confusion grew in the faces of the trolls. Dwalin used that chance to get rid of his bonds and slipped the small dagger to Thorin. Quickly the dagger was handed around, while they yelled at the trolls and distracted them as much as possible.

“Enough!” Bert rumbled, snatching Bombur from Bill and throwing him back on the pile. “We will kill them now and cook them tomorrow.” He decided, taking a step towards the dwarrows.

They all were ready to jump up and fight their way out, if necessary. Thorin nodded at Dwalin, who returned the nod wit a grim expression on his face.

These things had hurt his sister! She might have tried to hide her discomfort, but he saw the pain in her eyes, the stiffness in every motion and how she preferred to lean on her left leg. They would burn for what they did. Before any of them could act, a familiar voice echoed over the clearing.

“The dawn will take you all!” Gandalf called out and sun flooded the valley.

The trolls tried to shield themselves from the sunlight but there was no help for them. They became stone once again. For a moment silent ruled the company. Then cheers and laughter filled the air. They still lived. Somehow, they had managed to survive.

“What were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed!” as soon as the blonde prince had his clothes, weapons and armor back on he twirls around to his younger brother, angrily staring at him.

“You would have done the same! You saw how they handled her!” Kili defends his action, anger rising in him.

“What would mother say if she saw you being reckless again?” Fili shoots back, checking him for injuries.

“Don’t treat me like a child! If I am old enough to go on this quest I am old enough to make my own decisions!” angrily Kili slaps away the fussing hands, taking a step back and crossing his arms.

“You are far too young to go on this quest!” Fili yelled at him, shoving him a bit.

Kili shoved back and a small fight broke loose. They poked and shoved, bickered and finally rolled around the ground, laughing to their hearts contend. Thorin shook his head at their childish behavior. In his eyes they both were probably far to young to come on this quest.

Suddenly it was quiet. He looked back where he last saw his nephews. They had vanished. His heart missed a beat as he searched the area with his eyes. Bombur and Bofur were helping their cousin into his pants, Balin sorted through the scattered belongings. Nori just came out of the forest and Dori was frantically checking over Ori. The scribe seemed fine, but his brother wouldn’t stop fussing. Dwalin was fastening his axes before stomping over to Nori.

“Uncle look what we found!” a relieved sight leaves Thorins lungs. He hadn’t even realized that he had held his breath.

“What?” he grunted, trying to cover the worry in his voice.

“We found a cave, uncle. It stinks, but there is a small hoard too.” Kilis head pokes out between the bushes.

He followed them, as did the better part of the company, leaving Dwalin and Nori behind. Thorin wasn’t sure why his friend detested his spymaster so much, but Dwalin had always had a high sense for what was right and wrong. He shifts his attention back to the cave before him. A barrel with swords catches his eyes.

‘This one is a bit small to be even called a sword, but maybe she could…’

“Where is she, thief?” Dwalin grabs Noris arm, forcefully yanking him back when he tried to follow the others.

“Lost her already, eh?” Nori sneers, breaking free of the painful grip.

Had he really lost her? Was this filthy thief right? Gritting his teeth Dwalin took another step towards Nori. Staring down on the one he had hunted so many times back in the blue mountains. This scum knew nothing about what was going on inside of him. The worry and the doubt of his own skills to protect his sister nearly drowned him. She had vanished on his watch. She could have been dead!

Nori watched the tall dwarf a few more moments, before he frees him from his misery. Somehow it had become a game to the thief to anger the warrior. He played pranks on Dwalin, angered him on purpose. Nori liked how crimson slowly crept over the tattooed face, the wild look in his eyes and by Mahal, the flexing of his muscles. This sight alone was worth all the trouble that came with it.

“She is fine. After she told me her crazy but brilliant plan she went back to camp. She said she would fetch the herbs, just to make sure. If her plan would have failed she would have poisoned them.” Shrugging he looks at Dwalin, daring to step a bit closer.

'Maybe if I kiss him he would explode?’ chuckling to himself Nori turns away. ‘No, just this is enough for now.’ Ignoring the aching in his chest he leaves.

Dwalin froze. There was a short moment between worry and anger where he felt peace. In the very second he heard the soft chuckle his world went white. Leaving only himself, his One and the smell of tea and sunny days.

“Oh…” he mouthed, watching the thief departing further from him.

If you want me to tag you as well, please just send me a message.

If you like what you have read consider reblogging my story for others to enjoy too.

I am always open for asks and requests for shorts of our favorite dwarrows!

Masterpost

@lathalea

#thorin x bilbo #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #thilbo #king thorin #hobbit #hobbit headcannons #hobbit imagine #female bilbo #bilbo baggins

21 notes · View notes

missjosie27 · 4 years

Text

Year 3 Part 10- Defending

Hello, everyone.

Welcome back to another chapter. As we last left off, Barnaby officially joined David's side and we get to see some of the ramifications of that today. Wonder what poor Merula thinks of that XD

Elora Dunn I made a Hufflepuff in this version as opposed to Gryffindor. Seemed redundant with a character like Ben already in that house.

Also in this chapter I will feature a small cameo from Chester Davies. My character is a Gryffindor so of course we don't see him that much but I head cannoned him to show up at some point so I hope I did him justice. It is a small bit of filler in here today but as with everything in my story, it's all about the small details and development. Two more to go for Year 3! Enjoy!

If it were any other Slytherin, the new addition to the cursebreaking squad might have been quite awkward. With Barnaby the fit was so seamless, it was though he’d already known everyone for years. Despite his reputation as being one of the toughest kids in school with a penchant for dueling, winning him over revealed a key aspect of his character: that in reality he was just a big softie.

Barnaby loved to duel and learn new spells, his physical strength was immense (as evidenced by being able to lift Rowan off the ground using one hand with ease) and he was already quite tall for his age. But he also carried many other previously unknown attributes, the first of which was that he had a way with animals. He took particular interests in bowtruckles and nifflers, being the only person who knew how to tame them. Professor Kettleburn was so impressed, he made him a full time protege in handling more dangerous creatures such as hippogriffs and even the invisible thestrals.

He also loved to eat and would consume so much food in one sitting that one of the prefects at the Hufflepuff table actually had to ask him to save some for the first years. But above all else, Barnaby Lee at his core was a kind person and despite not being academically inclined, had a simple way of expressing things that put a problem into perspective. Perhaps most telling was that he never truly desired to hurt anyone and would defend those he cared about with vigor.

He explained all of this to Penny in Herbology, who giggled at some of the stories.

“Honestly, I’m actually really glad you introduced him to us the other night, even if he consumed half the food on the table,” she laughed. “I know most people think he’s slow, but he’s so sweet. Chiara went redder than a strawberry when he complimented her necklace.”

The aforementioned girl proceeded to flush the same color.

“I did not!” she protested.

David rolled his eyes as he tended to his dried nettles.

“That’s just because you girls think he’s handsome.”

Penny gave him a playful swat on the head.

“It is not...okay maybe a little.”

David clutched his hands together in a girly, romantic gesture and began speaking in a mock feminine tone.

“Oh Barnaby Lee, he’s ever so dreamy with his green eyes and enormous jaw!”

That earned him a triple swat, this time from Penny, Tonks, and Chiara.

“Focus on your dried nettles, dears!” Professor Sprout called out spotting the mischief from her place at the center of the table.

“Sorry, Professor!” David called out and he added some water to his pot.

“He’s handsome don’t get me wrong, but he’s not my type,” Tonks commented.

“What is your type?”

The pink haired witch shrugged.

“Don’t know really. Haven’t thought about it much.”

“I know Penny and Chiara have been thinking about Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop,” David joked as he falsely gagged, while ducking another swipe from a giggling Penny. “Anyway, the point is, Barnaby is a good bloke. And he’s dead useful to have around.”

“I’m surprised you of all people have accepted someone from Slytherin so readily,” Rowan teased him, coming up behind him to borrow some soil.

“Hey I’m a pretty easy going bloke, I can admit when I’m wrong.”

“Except when it comes to Slytherin apparently,” Tonks teased, which earned her a splat of dung on her robes.

Despite the jokes, the more David was able to get to know Barnaby the more he could feel his animosity slip away. In fact, he almost didn’t mind when the Slytherins became the favorites to win the Quidditch Cup after trouncing Hufflepuff 400-70, the key word being ‘almost’. But there was a practical side to it as well. Upon learning her former minion switched sides, Merula was beside herself with rage and began embarking on a campaign to make both of their lives as difficult as possible. Her taunting became subdued but she constantly attempted to blow up his cauldron in potions, put a flobberworm down the back of his pants, and tried hexing him on more than one occasion in the corridors. It was a mark of frustration; she was no closer to finding the vault but the constant attempts at sabotage began to wear thin.

“You need to learn how to properly defend yourself,” Barnaby told him one day after potions class, a session in which Merula caused the fire underneath his cauldron to flare, which singed off his eyebrows.

“I already know how to defend myself, I’ve beaten Merula in every proper duel we’ve had,” he argued keeping his head down, trying not to let passerbys witness his eyebrow less state.

“Most duels aren’t ‘proper’, Dave. Especially not if Merula is the one starting them. It’s better to be prepared for all kinds of ways people will try to attack you.”

“How come she leaves you alone?” he bemoaned.

“Oh, she doesn’t,” Barnaby admitted. “First she yelled at me and told me I was a traitor so I don’t sit with her anymore. Then she somehow snuck into my dorm and put bulbadox powder into my sheets. I was itching for days after that...”

“-that’s good to know-”

“But you still have a lot to learn. Especially defense.”

“Bill Weasley taught me a few things,” David offered.

“Did he?” Barnaby asked with wonder. “I’ve always heard the Weasley family loved the color orange. Don’t know much about their dueling, though.”

“Er right...well Bill’s definitely talented there’s no doubt about that. Perhaps we could work together on improving.”

Barnaby puffed up his chest with pride.

“If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s how to fight and teach others how to do it. Also I’ve always wanted to duel a fifth year!”

“We’ll get a spar going soon, mate,” David promised. “In the meantime, I need Madam Pomfrey to regrow my bloody eyebrows.”

It turned out to be solid advice. Though his offensive prowess was high, especially for his age, it turned out the third year Gryffindor did not know much about spells that would protect him from harm as well as cause it. This became apparent when both Bill and Barnaby bested him by simply using shield charms to block whatever he cast. In an effort to improve and become more versatile, he began learning defensive strategies and the application of the shield charm itself. The burly Slytherin also warned him that Merula and Ismelda were constantly studying in the library and by the fireside in an effort to gain an edge when the inevitable rematch occurred.

With Merula Snyde, it’s more like a never ending rematch

However, what he didn’t know was all of this was about to come in handy in a most unexpected way.

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

It all happened quite suddenly and quite by accident.

On an average Saturday morning in early April, David was walking back from his brother’s room after another planning session with Tulip when he noticed Argus Filch prowling along the usual route past the Transfiguration classroom. Though he technically wasn’t doing anything wrong, he still didn't want the caretaker to cast a suspicious eye towards him anywhere near the secret location. So he took a detour through the gardens instead.

Inside the viaduct architecture, he was idly wondering to himself how close Rowan was to breaking the final bit of code inside his brother’s notebook (as well as how pretty Penny looked in her new jumper dress and spring boots) when he noticed something peculiar and also a bit disturbing. Over by the large tree where some the older students liked to hang out, he noticed five of them were standing over a smaller, terrified looking girl who was practically trembling with fear.

Part of himself told him that it wasn’t his business and it was best not to get involved. But the sense of justice, always strong in his persona, prevailed and he made an abrupt perpendicular cut across the grass and towards the commotion. As he drew closer he could hear the dialogue, which only served to feed his temper.

“...didn’t mean to. Please, I don’t want to fight.”

“Shoulda thought of that before you nosed into an area that you don’t belong in,” one of the lead bullies said harshly.

“B-but it’s not your area,” the little girl argued. “It’s for everyone who goes to Hogwarts!”

By now, David had a better look. The girl in question was a first year Hufflepuff who definitely fit the part of someone traditionally ‘uncool’. Thick glasses, short, copper colored brown hair, an oversized sweater to couple with several books clutched in her small hands. There were five who were currently bullying the poor first year, three boys and two girls, at least half of which were from Slytherin and the other two appeared to be Ravenclaw. The leader was a sixth year he recognized as Hadrian Flint, a member of a prominent family of the same name, a brown haired, freckle faced boy with poor teeth and an upward nose that reeked of arrogance. Also present was Ismelda Murk for some reason, who looked as though she happened upon the scene and was along for whatever kicks she could find.

“Just beat it, kid,” one of the Ravenclaws said. “This is our spot. Don’t make us do this the hard way.”

“And besides, Hogwarts doesn’t belong to people like you,” Flint told her nastily while his Slytherin companion nodded in agreement.

“And who would that be exactly?”

His unannounced presence caused Hadrian to spin around and face his challenger. His face immediately became a pronounced sneer.

“Get lost, Gryffindor. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Don’t be shy, Flint. Let the whole world know what you were about to say. I’m sure it will be most enlightening.”

Flint took a step forward but was soon informed by his companion who exactly this Gryffindor was with a whisper to the ear.

“Ahh...the cursebreaker. Well how bout I cut you a deal since I’m feeling right generous today. You go back to your curses and I’ll go back to this curse. Sound fair?”

“She didn’t have any idea this spot is where the older students hang out. Let her go.”

Though Hadrian was taller, David was not about to back down. He knew the reason he was picking on this poor girl and despite being outnumbered was not about to let her become the victim of a borderline torture session like Diana Blishwick the previous year.

“Mudbloods like her don’t deserve anything except learning their place,” Ismelda spoke now, a vicious gleam forming in her cold, gray eyes.

“Shut your hole, Izzy. I’m not even sure what you’re doing here but I do know that Merula’s boots need polishing. Give them some extra shine, will ya?”

Ismelda pulled out her wand in retaliation for the remark but Flint told her off in equally harsh fashion.

“Stow it you greasy giraffe neck. Honestly you could be Snape’s daughter with that hair.”

David might have laughed had the older Slytherin not been as equally reprehensible. The Ravenclaw girl and boy (which were evidently a couple) didn’t seem as perturbed anymore, but the rest of the group was hellbent on doing something awful to the muggle born Hufflepuff.

“Last chance. Leave or you suffer just as she does,” Flint told him menacingly. Again, David did not back down, instead he crossed over and put the much smaller girl behind him.

“Don’t make any sudden movements,” he told her. “And stay behind me. What’s your name?”

“Elora...Elora Dunn,” came the frightened reply.

“Well, Elora...brace yourself.”

He turned his attention back to Flint, Ismelda, and the other three students that were there. The Ravenclaws did nothing but the other two Slytherins withdrew their wands and Ismelda’s evil smirk grew wider.

“Have it your way then,” the tall Slytherin shrugged. “Immobilus! ”

“Protego! ”

It was his first attempt at using the spell in an actual battle and the results were quite effective. An invisible, reflective shield formed in front of himself and Elora Dunn, causing the spell to ricochet and deflect right back at its owner, freezing his body in place. Within seconds, Hadrian Flint toppled over in a heap on the grass.

It was a victory but a short lived one as the other two Slytherins readied their wands while David still guarded the first year girl. Given his narrow position and the fact that he was protecting someone else he doubted he could fend off two more opponents at the same time. Thankfully, it was not required as suddenly a prefect arrived at the scene, recognizing him to be Chester Davies, who was also head boy.

“Enough! You will stop this now!”

The Ravenclaw couple hadn’t drawn their wands in the first place, but Ismelda did not comply, sending a common cold hex towards David which missed, though the other Slytherin did heed the order.

“I said that’s enough! Five points from Slytherin!” Chester shouted, pointing directly at the third year Slytherin, who reluctantly relented, her pale expression now extremely sour.

“What in Merlin’s name is happening here?” he continued to inquire. “Dueling is forbidden.”

His gaze settled on David and he knew the time to explain was now. He had never interacted with Chester before though there was a chance he knew of his cursebreaking exploits. Either way it was best to act quickly.

“I didn’t start whatever you witnessed,” he told him. “Flint and his goons were attempting to harm Elora here.”

The first year Hufflepuff peeked out from behind his back at long last.

“It’s true. He defended me when I thought I was about to be hexed. They called me a uh…”

The poor thing, David thought sadly. She clearly had not heard that word used against her yet. Anger flared within him knowing it wouldn’t be the last.

He mouthed the word ‘mudblood’ to the Head Boy, who’s face reeled in horror. Chester Davies, known for his mellow, taciturn demeanor then unleashed quiet fury, first on the Ravenclaw couple.

“But we didn’t do anything!” the fifth year boy protested.

“You still threatened her,” Chester said coldly. “And by standing by and allowing the other three to do harm you have disgraced yourself.”

“The little brat wouldn’t leave!” the girl shouted back.

But that only served to further their scolding

“You claim to be part of our house and yet have the wit and foresight of a damp rag. I will be reporting this to Professor Flitwick and I will recommend detention for a week. Five points from Ravenclaw.”

Chester then took the time to reluctantly unfreeze Hadrian Flint, who immediately leapt to his feet and tried to spin a tale.

“You all saw it! He attacked me!”

“Stuff it, Flint,” the Ravenclaw immediately shut down. “I saw you cast the first spell and I know the word this one used to describe Miss Dunn,” she said, indicating Ismelda, who looked as though she wanted nothing more than to kill everyone present. “Rest assured, McGonagall will be informed as will Professor Snape.”

Furious and belligerent, Flint spat on the ground, uttering, “Blood traitor.”

David thought Chester might blow a gasket (he knew he would have) but instead he coolly regarded him as though he were simply another stone inside the Hogwarts walls.

“Better a blood traitor than what you are, Flint. Now get out of here.”

The tall, lanky Slytherin heeded her this time and shuffled away with his companion. Ismelda had seemingly skulked off as well.

“I’ll handle these two,” Chester told him, as he too ordered his housemates away. “You see to it that the first year gets back to the Hufflepuff common room. You did a good thing today.”

Admiration increased for the Head Boy as David nodded and looked over to Elora, giving a kind look.

“Come on, let’s go.”

As they walked back towards kitchens, he noticed Elora fidgeting as though she wanted to say something. Eventually, she mustered up the courage.

“Um...what’s your name?”

“David,” he replied simply.

“Thank you, David for saving me back there. I wish I was brave like you.”

He stopped just before they reached the barrels leading to the Hufflepuff common room and knelt down to make proper eye level contact with her.

“Elora, you’re already brave. At no point in time did you move when those gits asked you too. There wasn’t a braver person today in all of Hogwarts.”

She beamed so much David thought she might shed tears over the books she was carrying. Then, her face became puzzled.

“What was that name that girl called me?” came the innocent but horrifying question.

David sighed, he’d hoped it wouldn’t come to him having to explain something like that. But he wasn’t going to pull punches either. Someone like Elora needed to know the intentions of people such as Flint, Ismelda, and others.

“You come from a family with no magical background. Therefore some that do think you aren’t as good as they are,” he said sadly.

“But why?”

Therein lay the crux of the issue: why . Truth was, he could give many reasons why but none of them could adequately explain prejudice. It was something you lived through, but nothing about it was logical.

“It’s complicated,” came his reply. “Just know this: you are just as worthy to study magic as anyone else here. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise….also learning a few jinxes wouldn’t hurt either.”

“Can you teach me?”

Though he was a bit surprised, the innocent eyed look of this first year softened the dubiousness of his answer.

“Sure thing. We can find the time.”

Elora nodded and suddenly gave him a big hug, unexpectedly throwing off his balance.

“Ack! He...thanks kid.”

The first year tapped second barrel from the bottom in a distinct rhythm and skipped her way inside, but David didn’t immediately leave leave the area. He paused, willing himself not to drive himself into a fury over what just occurred.

Not all Slytherins are bad

David thought of Barnaby and how he was able to persuade him to change sides and the difference it made in his character. Or the eccentric Liz Tuttle helping him with potions ingredients. Then he thought of people like Ammon Lucian, Hadrian Flint, Ayla Yaxley, and Ismelda Murk and the pit of black vengeance returned, bubbling like tar ready to consume all who became entrapped in it.

As if to punctuate the conflict, Merula Snyde popped into his mind as did Liz Tuttle’s words regarding her

“Merula’s not all bad…well she’s mostly bad. But I know for a fact she’s had a hard life and she’s not always what she seems.”

He shook his head. What did she mean by that? He knew Merula’s parents were locked up in Azkaban but by all accounts she lived like a queen in Hertfordshire in the Snyde Manor. At no point in time had she ever apologized or bothered to show there was anything lurking beneath except vicious arrogance and deceit.

So why was there pain in her lavender eyes every time he beat her in a duel? Why was she so obsessed? What was it about him and his brother that Merula couldn’t let go?

David pushed those thoughts aside for now, having little time or patience to figure out the psychological ramifications of the house of snakes. There was homework to finish and another vault to find and break its curse.

If it took a few Slytherins, whether enemies or friends, to get there he would do so.

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

David never expected much to come of his deeds the previous Saturday. As far as he was concerned, the act of aiding Elora suited him just fine. They’d even scheduled a time to meet where he could show her a few spells. Come Monday, however, that changed.

While at breakfast with Ben, Charlie, and Jae (the latter of whom was chugging multiple goblets of milk on a bet) he was called to the head table by Professor McGonagall.

“David Grant!” she called out. “Please step forward.”

By this time, he temporarily forgot about what had happened and assumed whatever his head of house wanted was nothing good. Usually when they talked outside of class it was due to some trouble he’d been up to or the cursed vaults...oftentimes both.

“Yes, Professor?” he asked as he reached her place at the faculty chair.

“It has come to my attention that you were involved in an altercation last weekend involving a first year student and five others.”

David felt his heart quicken. Was she really about to punish him for doing the right thing?

“Yes...I was.”

But he need not have worried, for in the next moment she gave him a rare smile.

“Do not worry yourself, Mr. Grant. I know you were attempting to protect Miss Dunn from those who sought to make her feel unwelcome and unwanted.”

Her nostrils flared showing a subtle moment of anger before it vanished and she continued.

“Your actions are to be commended. Twenty points to Gryffindor for your courage and defense of those younger than yourself.”

Fear instantly turned to immense happiness as he reciprocated the smile.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“You are welcome. And do tell Mr. Kim that he will likely vomit if he continues in his high consumption of milk. I do not want a mess in the Great Hall nor in my classroom when it occurs today.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I expect nothing less from one of my best Transfiguration students.”

He was sent on his way feeling considerably proud of himself for getting the normally strict and reserved Professor McGonagall to show not only a positive emotion but pride in him. And there was more yet to come. Before he could retake his seat, another familiar face confronted him, this time in the person of Angelica Cole.

“I heard what happened as well, David.”

“In case you were wondering, I earned twenty house points out of it so by your standards I should be showered with roses, am I right?”

Angelica rolled her eyes but her mouth twisted upwards in a smile all the same.

“Incorrigible as ever. But I want to echo McGonagall’s sentiments. Chester told me everything and what you did is precisely what our house is supposed to entail: courage, protecting those who cannot protect themselves.”

She paused before continuing.

“When we first met I thought you were going to be another troublemaker. But I was wrong. And I want to apologize.”

David was surprised, not necessarily by the apology (he and Angelica had gotten on fine this year) but the sentiment she was showing. There was a heavy amount of emotion in her eyes and an acute sense of something bigger at stake.

“Angelica, are you alright?”

“Do you know why I’m saying these things?” she asked him point blank.

“Because I’m just so naturally charming?”

“Because I’m leaving,” Angelica corrected, ignoring his joke. “I have less than two months left at Hogwarts before I graduate. And whether you realize it or not, you’re rising in seniority. David, I want you to take my place after I’m gone.”

He blinked a couple of times, hardly daring to believe his ears.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I know it isn’t coming for at least two more years. But before I leave Hogwarts I’m going to recommend to Professor McGonagall that you be made prefect when your time comes. Through everything there is a quality you have that stands out: leadership.”

David couldn’t help but remain shocked at the ringing endorsement but there it was. He had gone from pain in the arse to leadership material in the span of two years. Nevertheless, he thanked his prefect sincerely.

“Angelica...this means a great deal. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Thank yourself,” she said smiling. “I told you at the beginning of the year that you were worth more than wisecracks and being Jacob Grant’s younger brother. You’ve earned that distinction and much more.”

The conversation ended as the seventh year was forced to quell a potential food fight at the end of the Gryffindor table and David rejoined his group but with positive thoughts to enjoy for once.

“What happened with McGonagall and Angelica?” Charlie asked. “You certainly seem pleased.”

“I dunno mate, they’ve appeared to take a liking to me all of a sudden.”

“Everyone likes you, Dave,” Ben reminded him.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Ben. But even my popularity has limitations. In particular with a brown haired, deriding, boot wearing, Slytherin girl.”

“Wouldn’t worry about her so much,” Jae replied, by now having stopped chugging milk though he still sported a white mustache as a result. “She ain’t exactly popular among her own house anymore. Most people find her insulting and cruel.”

“She can sit on a pin for all I care,” David shrugged. “Maybe I’m just becoming a little more mature.”

“That’s hilarious,” Charlie laughed.

“So is your bloody snoring even though it keeps me up at night.”

They continued to banter like this for the rest of breakfast when Rowan happened on the scene and right away everyone could tell he had stumbled upon something quite important just by the look in his eye.

“Rowan, you’re just in time to see whether or not Jae can light a fire from his wand with a fart."

But the joke either didn’t register or it paled in comparison to the news

“I need to speak to you,” he said directly to David. “Alone.”

Shrugging but also silently recognizing that something big was going on he played it off as though it were nothing to avoid arousing suspicion.

“Alright then. Lead the way.”

As careful and inconspicuously as they could, Rowan and David exited the Great Hall and into a private column within the corridor. Upon making sure no one was watching, the former of the two boys pulled out a familiar, leatherback, brown notebook.

“I did it,” he whispered. “I finally managed to match the half page to another message in the book and decipher it.”

This was indeed wonderful news and David could hardly wait to hear it. Excitement pulsed through his veins, barely being able to contain it.

“Rowan that’s amazing! Go on! What does it day?”

Proudly and pompously flipping to the correct page, Rowan read the information aloud but also in a hushed tone so no one would hear them.

“‘The entrance is the Restricted Section of the library. That is the source of the fear and the vault itself.’ ”

David ran a hand through his hair, ecstatic but also mentally kicking himself. Of all the places they looked, the one place they forgot was the restricted section?

“I know that look,” Rowan told him seriously. “Don’t beat yourself up. None of us here had any idea where the entrance was, even with your brother’s notes. But it doesn’t matter now.”

Drive and passion drove David to new levels of happiness and determination. They had managed to navigate through all manner of blockages, dead ends, and run arounds only to finally come through in the end. They knew where the vault was and now it was time.

“Time to break into this latest cursed vault,” he spoke aloud.

6 notes · View notes

5amfries · 4 years

Text

It had been getting colder lately, which obliges you to set the heat a little higher, break out the warm, heavy blankets and take down the large box of tea you’ve been saving for moments like these.

Luck would have it that both you and Jotaro have the day off for once so you decide to have a date indoors. Jotaro’s been so exhausted from work, he doesn’t put up a fight or even glare at you when you lead him to the living room and wrapped him up in big, soft ocean themed blanket.

He falls into the quiet lull immediately, snuggling into the couch as you happily make the tea in the kitchen. You pour the nicely smelling fluid in Jotaro’s massive mug and your own personal one, before reentering the living room.

You plop next to him, giving him his cup and placing yours on the table so you could properly get cozy under your cover. You take your cup and nuzzle into Jotaro’s side. He huffs, but doesn’t complain, taking large gulps of tea.

You’re sitting so close, your head resting on his arm, that you could hear each drink taken. The loud swallows ring out over the softly playing movie in front of you, but you don’t mind. If anything, it’s a much more interesting sound than what was going on in the tv.

You’re so entranced by the sound of the tea rushing down Jotaro’s throat, you don’t notice that he finishes the whole mug within about two minutes. He released the mug from his lips with a deep, content sigh.

His stomach burbles audibly, probably not ready to take that much liquid so fast. He looks to you, holding his mug in front of you expectedly. You sit up, a little shocked. Your eyes glance over at your cup, which you had forgotten about, and it was still steaming.

You look back to him. “You… You’re done? You want more?” The way you ask is slow and somewhat nervous, but fascinated.

Jotaro stares back, before he nods slowly and you wonder if he’s caught that excited undertone in your voice.

“It’s cold.” He replies.

You nod back, “O-Okay!”

That’s enough to having you jumping up out of your seat and rushing to the kitchen. You quickly come back, this time with the box of tea, the hot kettle and some milk and honey.

You prepare Jotaro’s tea, feeling warm and not from the covers or the heated kettle in your hands. Just the simple act of being near Jotaro and serving him another cup of one of your favorite drinks was enough to have you bubbling with joy.

“It might take some time.” You say, as you pour the water into his mug.

He nods in answer, watching you make his drink. Some moments later, he sits up and reaches over you to take your cup.

“Ah-” You begin, surprised that he would take your drink instead of waiting, trying to tell him that that was indeed your tea before you remember that your drink had been tempered with milk.

“W-Wait!” You exclaim, catching Jotaro just as he puts the cup to his lips.

He stops, glares menacingly your way. “What.” He demands.

You freeze, then shiver under his gaze, feeling not just warm but hot now.

“It’s just that, um, mine has milk in it. And I know that you’re-”

Jotaro continues to glower at you as he tips back your mug and downs your entire drink in one go.

“Lactose intolerant…” You finish as he consumes your drink.

He exhales a loud sigh, more liquid filling his belly. This time it sloshes around with a twisted glorp sound.

Jotaro slid the empty mug onto the table, putting a hand on his bloating stomach. When he leans back onto the couch, he closes his eyes and kneads at a spot on his abdomen. It’s only a couple of seconds before his throat makes a strained noise as a warning for the deep, rumbling belch that had come soon after.

“‘Scuse me.” He mumbles unapologetically.

You can’t do anything but stare. In awe, in shock, in lust…

Your face is aflame, so you look away instinctively. You keep your eyes on the tv as you wait for the tea to finish, though you don’t really focus on it, what with the raucous noise Jotaro’s stomach had begun to make.

It switched between angry, cramp sounds and wet, overflowing gurgles. In between, Jotaro would stifle burps in his hand, not bothering to excuse himself for it this time. You both knew there would be no need for it now that the milk was attacking his system.

Once the tea is done, you pick up Jotaro’s mug with both hands, but he only stares when you try to pass it to him.

“Make it like yours.”

You bring the cup close to your chest, giving Jotaro a confused expression.

“But mine had-”

“I know.” He interrupts, sounding somewhat irritated. But his eyes have a odd gleam to them when he says this. His own face has a slight blush to it and he breathing had gotten a little shallow.

You don’t know if it’s because of the spiked tea or… something else. Maybe both. But you decide to indulge him. You place the mug back on the tray and mix in the milk and honey, just the way you like it, then pick up the mug and handed it back to Jotaro.

He takes it and wastes no time in knocking it back. You revel in each loud gulp you hear, the added tea on top of the previous two cups bubbling and rolling around in Jotaro’s extending belly.

The blanket had fallen to his lap, reveal the damage all of that tea had done. His shirt that had once laid flat now stretched around the swelling bulge. With each sip, you watch it expand until he finishes.

When he does, he releases it with shallow breath that’s quickly chased by a heavy, wet sounding burp that has his stomach jostling and leaves him coughing.

It takes you out of the trance you had allowed yourself to fall into and you feel slight panic that he may have drank too fast and made himself sick. You take the mug out of hand and place it on the tray.

“Are you going to be sick?” You ask, concerned, started to stand. “Do you need a trash can? Let me get one-”

You stop when you feel a large hand encompass your wrist. You turn to see Jotaro staring at you once more, it’s the same annoyed scowl that’s familiar to you but that weird sparkle is still there.

You don’t know exactly what he’s trying to convey until he drags you back down to the couch, close to him.

He doesn’t let you go once you sit, pulling your hand over to his stomach. He presses into it, which in turn makes your hand press into his skin.

You catch on instantly. Your eyes lower and your face heats as you rub at the globe that is Jotaro’s stomach.

A small grin blossoms on your lips. “Oh, you wanted me to rub your belly.”

Jotaro’s eyes widen, the bare minimum of a blush tints his cheeks, though you don’t get to appreciate for long when he dips his head, his hat falling over his face.

“Just hurts. Not like you have anything else better to do.”

The cute gesture has your heart pounding a smile a minute and you’d love nothing more than to jump him now. That obviously wouldn’t work out well, so you settle for giving the best belly massage you can.

As your fingers squeeze and caress, you can feel the watery filling that Jotaro’s middle. It caves under your pressure and bubbles like a cauldron, gurgles unhappily and tells you as much as you work out explosive belches and sick sounding burps.

Jotaro’s eructations are seemingly nonstop. He barely has time to catch his breath when he’s hit by another belch attack. After a while, he drops his stone facade for a moment to let out a groan.

He puts his own hand on his abdomen. He runs the right side while you do the left. He stops a couple of seconds in, closes his eyes and his jaw clenches.

You stop in turn, wondering if he had reached his limit and wondering if you should start regretting not getting that trash can.

“Jojo…?” You say softly.

He doesn’t respond, too focused on what you can only assume is a terrible cramp. You go to reach back to help him through it when you suddenly feel the couch vibrate beneath the both of you.

The sound being muffled doesn’t stop the absolute brassy and wet fart that he forces out. It rumbles continuously and the smell no doubt is trapped underneath his blanket, if the relief that floods his face and just the sheer density of the volume is anything to go by.

The milk had most definitely kicked in now.

Jotaro sighs and you shiver, feeling almost too turned on by his behavior. You only want more now, you’d like to see how much more he can produce.

You laugh quietly and put your hands back on him, quipping, “That’s one way to stay warm.”

Jotaro finally reveals his eyes, that irritated glare that you cherish so much settled back on his face.

He opens his mouth to probably scold you, but his stomach groans and a large belch erupts out of him instead.

#this is so gross and self-indulgent i can't believe i wrote this #god and i consistently got turned on while writing it....#anyway take this gas/jojo community #this wasn't supposed to be #◇ jotaro #liquid bloat #burping #burping kink #farting kink #j/j/ba #♡ a product sample #stuffing #li! jotaro

69 notes · View notes

movienotesbyzawmer · 4 years

Photo

October 23: Friday The 13th - A New Beginning

(previous notes: Friday the 13th - The Final Chapter)

In case you're just joining us, I have committed myself to the task of watching each of the eight Friday the 13th movies that came out in the 80s, taking notes as I watch them, then posting those notes. I'm about to watch the fifth movie.

And hey, is it time to just recap the "story" so far? I mean… sure, I guess. It all started in 1958, when a little boy named Jason drowned at Camp Crystal Lake. Supposedly the camp counselors responsible for keeping an eye on him were distracted with their recreational boinking. That's how the story goes… however, what we see in 1958 is two camp counselors boinking and then getting murdered by someone with ostensibly no related drowning event. Anyway, Twenty years later Jason's mom stalks some camp counselors that are at that camp and kills them very violently. She gets beheaded before she can kill the last counselor, but then that counselor gets pulled into the water by ghoulboy Jason; she survives this only to be murdered by him in her house at a later date.

Meanwhile another facility down the shore from Camp Crystal Lake (and I might add that the actual eponymous lake doesn't appear to be any bigger than the apparel section of a Target) has some new counselor trainees on a retreat of some kind. Jason has quickly matured from a swampy child-monster to a hooded, but otherwise sharply-dressed psychopath who doesn't say anything. He kills everyone at this retreat except for one girl who seems to kind of get him. Also maybe her boyfriend survives, we never really get an answer on that, but she is familiarly hauled away by an ambulance and forgotten about. Jason keeps his killing spree going quite indiscriminately, but focusing on another group of young people that are hanging out at a nearby ranch. He kills everyone there, plus some other people he found, except for one girl who survives long enough to get pulled into the water by a ghoul that is probably a Jason's Mom Thing. We don't know what happens to her, but she definitely did not stay dry.

The hospital where that last batch of victims ended up got a little bit murdered up. Jason was in there because he was thought of as one of the victims somehow, maybe a deliberate playing-dead trick because he does like to do stuff like that. He heads back to the woodsy area around Crystal Lake and decides to pick on the residents of two area houses. He does lots of killings but a brother and sister from one of those houses stab him so many times that he just can't get up an murder them. But in the process of that, the brother might have caught some evil. Is this the final chapter. Will there be a new beginning. Soon the contents of Disc 5 will reveal all.

(I have not seen this movie btw)

It opens very differently from the others… someone on a raincoat is walking urgently through the woods during a nighttime storm. It's Corey Feldman! He approaches Jason's grave in the woods! Like totally a grave with a headstone that says Jason Voorhees. But also two hooligans were on their way to that grave; they want to dig Jason up! CF is hiding and watching that; the hooligans don't know about him. They want to see Jason's body, and when they succeed with that, it stabs them to death because Jason was buried with a bunch of his favorite weapons. Plus also wearing the hockey mask. He's about to kill CF when whoever was dreaming this dream wakes up in a van that appears to be for crazy people of some kind. I don't recognize anyone, but maybe the dreaming person is grown-up CF? Probably that. Not played by CF, though.

His name is Tommy. I think that was CF's character's name so yeah it's him. I wonder if he's still into video games. He's being delivered to an institute of mental health. A nice couple is in charge, a Nice Woman and a Nice Man who make it sound like it will be Nice there.

Tommy looks wistfully at a picture of his mom and sister. The sister survived the last movie ostensibly so what is the deal with her.

Reggie the Reckless is a character that introduces himself to Tommy quite confrontationally. He is only about 11 and he likes to scare people; he clearly thinks he's going to totally pwn Tommy with pranks, but Tommy is apparently still into monster masks so he responds in a horror-mask way that earns some cred with Reggie the Reckless.

We get a glimpse at the motley cast of teens and young adults that populates this youth mental facility slash work farm place… and then two old killjoys show up to scold everyone for being crazy. These two killjoy characters are the most broadly performed caricatures we've seen since the "you're all doomed" old guy. Their acting is the kind of acting you see at the Renaissance festival, except without the half-assed English accents.

One of the kids at the institute is just a well-meaning dork with chocolate smears on his face that everyone hates… one guy hates him so much that he murders him! With an axe! Chocolate Smear was trying to strike up a conversation with a man who was angrily chopping wood, and bothered him so much that he axes him right there in front of others and in broad daylight! This story I tell you, it is a veritable New Beginning.

New characters. Leather Jacket Assholes, are talking about the murder at the nuthouse. They are in the woods nearby and one of them goes to take a leak while the other tries to fix something wrong with the car. They both get some kind of killed! The first one, the killer shoves a lit flare in his mouth, and the other one gets his throat slashed while he's acting very cocky and charismatic in the front seat of the car. Lit flare death is better even though it looks very fake.

But now we're back at the workhouse institute place and they're all mournful because of that odd and traumatic axe murder. Someone tries to be playfully scary with a monster mask and Tommy flips out and beats him up! This is a drama about the dysfunctional relationships between the involuntary residents of a workhouse.

Ugh, now we're back on the Killjoy characters. They are extremely unpleasant to behold. I hope Jason really is still killing people and that he takes care of those two irritants.

New characters, a waitress at a café and a hot doggin' yuppie in a muscle car trying to impress her, It seems like it's always important in these movies to have loud asshole characters, but there are really a lot of them in this one. If it's because they think we want to see assholes get killed… they have a point.

Hot Dog was doing some coke lines in his car waiting for the waitress when he very abruptly, but not unpredictably got axed right in his bald spot! Then the waitress comes out to find him and gets axed in the sternum. Those two, and the leather jacket dudes, don't have any ostensible relationship to the workhouse kids, although the leather dudes mentioned hearing about the murder there. Are we supposed to suspect that Jason is following Tommy and killing randos in the area surrounding where he is?

So there's this couple, a frisky, playful couple that are, I think, residents at the mental health facility, but they smolder with the carefree lust of what can only be described as camp counselors. They sneak off into the woods to get naked and fool around! An old man is watching them! The old man gets knifed in the gut! Then the girl of the couple gets sheared to death while the guy is taking a break somewhere. But he returns to find what happened to her - we see that he sheared her right in the eyes, it's gross! Then he gets a very good death; the killer secures him to a tree with a leather strap, which he tightens and tightens and tightens with his makeshift branch-crank until his skull is crushed! This consistent ingenuity of homicide methodology can only come from the one, the only, the master, Jason Voorhees.

New character alert… I kind of like this part! So Reggie the Reckless is given a ride to visit his big brother at the trailer park where he lives. Reggie and Big Brother are really happy to see each other! They get along very, very well! Big Brother even offers Reggie an enchilada! We don't see the enchilada! They're in a van, not even a trailer, and the dialogue plainly tells us that Big Brother has an enchilada next to him that he makes available to Reggie! Reggie does not accept the proffered enchilada! It is funny that we do not see what the enchilada looks like! What does an enchilada in a van look like!

Meanwhile Tommy gets into big trouble because someone nearby with this movie's requisite asshole level notices him waiting around near the trailer park, and correctly surmises that he is from the nearby mental health facility. This asshole starts a fight and Tommy has incredible martial arts skills so he beats up the asshole. Why does he have those skills.

Big Brother had to go to the outhouse immediately for enchilada-related reasons after Reggie left. He and his girlfriend have a cute exchange while he's in there, and just when I think that I like it when this movie's assholes die and plus I also like Big Brother, he and the girlfriend get killed. Big Brother gets perforated with metal spikes that are shoved at him through the walls of the outhouse. I am disappoint. This is probably this series' version of the first ten minutes of Up.

Oh, so the Killjoy characters… one of them was the guy that Tommy beat up, and the other one is his mom. Yeah, they hate the mental health facility, so it make some sense that he would pick a fight with Tommy so rashly. He returns home on his motorcycle but he's so mad about getting beat up that he just rides around outside his house, raging loudly about getting thumped and demanding that his mom do something about it! But he gets beheaded by a knife that takes advantage of his perpetual motorcycle operation. Then a butcher knife comes through the window at his mom and she's dead, face down in some soup cauldron she'd been obsessing over.

A word about the character with the speech impediment. One of the workhouse kids stutters. Inclusion! He just had some awkward interactions with the couple of ladies in the house and then turned around and saw a raised butcher knife. No more stuttering guy.

I should mention, the glimpses we've gotten of the killer are very, very unrevealing. The movie is making sure we don't have enough information to conclude for sure that it is Jason, although sometimes Tommy has visions of Jason standing somewhere and looking at him.

Another character died that's in that house. A girl gets naked and goes to bed, sees the body of the stuttering guy that has been placed there to frighten her, and then gets macheted through the mattress.

Then another killing. This character who has been vividly characterized throughout as "girl who is only always ever listening to music that she is clearly super into so much that no one is able to talk to her", she's being like that in her room and the killer just goes in and stabs her in the gut.

Reggie and the Nice Woman find those last three bodies stacked on a bed, and they run away, but on their way out of the house, Jason, total actual Jason, bursts through a door at them! He has great posture and wears a clean jumpsuit. They run away into the nearby woods and see an old-fashioned station-wagon ambulance. They open a door of it and a body is in it! I don't recognize the victim but there have been a lot lately. But also look.. Jason! Nearby! They run away.

The two get separated and Nice Woman comes upon Nice Man spiked through the head into a tree, so very dead! I don't remember what we last saw of him.

She runs back to the main house, and the cook, who is Reggie's grandfather, is thrown through the window at her! He has been murdered! Murdered I tell you! She runs away.

Jason is slowly chasing her with his machete as she stumbles through the mud. He is about to kill her but then he is distracted by a tractor coming at him, operated by Reggie! Reggie actually runs him down with the tractor! It's actually a bulldozer. He bulldozed Jason!

He looks dead but then he grabs her leg. And then they run away.

A very exciting confrontation ensues in the nearby barn where they run. Jason slowly pursues them in there, and the woman comes at him with a chainsaw. They sort of swordfight but with chainsaw and machete.

Tommy, who has been we-don't-know-where, arrives and the dynamic changes because of the strange connection Jason and Tommy have. Or at least Tommy thinks they have a connection… Jason just walks up to him and slashes him with the machete.

Everyone moves up to the loft of the barn. Tommy looks very badly laid out, so between Reggie and the woman a big struggle happens. But it ends with Jason getting his hand chopped off by Tommy, and Jason falling onto the ground which has this odd grid of metal spikes that kill him just fine.

But! The mask comes off, and it isn't Jason! Isn't Jason at all! It's one of the men we've seen around, I forget who.

Oh, the next scene explains it all. It was "Roy". Roy was one of the cops, or paramedics (?), who responded to the weird axe murder of the Chocolate Smear kid. It turns out that he is the father of Chocolate Smear, and he did all the murders as a very unstable response to that. And The news clippings he was carrying out explain that he decided to make it look like a Jason murder spree.

The movie ends with Tommy having a dream about murdering the woman, waking up in a hospital room and having a Jason phantom vision, then looking at a hockey mask that is in a drawer of his hospital room's dresser! Then there is a quick final couple of shots that suggest that he has insanely put the hockey mask on and is gonna knife the woman when she enters the room to visit him. The credits roll as he's about to probably stab her.

So this was kind of hard to get through. I mean, they are all bad movies, and objectively it seems like number 4 was worse than this one. But I was less inclined than normal to fight through the disinterest. It's worth noting that they were clearly trying for some semblance of a "new beginning", and they even managed to make it that while also explaining how this is a continuation of the Jason story. And there was all the grisly death you could want, which is what we're here for in the first place. But none of the scares were good or memorable, and they're making no effort to one-up the earlier movies in terms of gore effects. And I really lost track of the characters. Except for the ones I hated.

(next: Friday the 13th Part VI - Jason Lives)

#friday the 13th

2 notes · View notes