small hut

Mixed Black African Girl (Cameroonian/French)

I’m a mixed black african girl who grew up and lived most of her life in Cameroon, in Central Africa. My dad is half-white (french) and half-black (cameroonian), and my mom is 100% cameroonian. There’s little to no black african characters in popular fiction, which has always bothered me, and it would be so nice to read about someone like me for once.

  • Culture and food

Cameroon is a country created during colonization, with borders defined by europeans. Because of that, Cameroon is actually made of 200 ethnic groups, each of them having their own language and culture. So the culture and daily habits vary a lot depending on which region of Cameroon you are in. In the big cities, though, everyone is mingled no matter where they’re from. However, so many different ethnic groups cohabiting together often causes tension. There are also a lot of stereotypes about every ethnic group.

I grew up in the central and coastal areas of the country, and I’m Bassa. The Bassa are one of the main ethnic groups in Cameroon. If your parents are from two different ethnic groups, it is decided that you officially belong to your father’s ethnic group. My mother is Bakoko but my father is Bassa, so I’m the latter. When I meet another Cameroonian, two of the first questions we usually ask each other are : What are you (meaning, what’s your ethnic group) ? and Where is you village ?

Villages are very important in the Cameroonian culture. Your village is where your father’s ancestors were born. Even if you’re not born there, you usually have grandparents or great-uncles or family friends living there, and if you have enough money to do so you must regularly visit your village. And usually, when people earn enough money, they send money to their village so that people living there can have a better life, build more houses and schools etc.

Cameroonian food is very diverse, and varies depending on the region. The national dish is Ndolé, a dish made with ndolé leaves, stewed nuts, and meat (fish, beef or shrimps). Other common foods are bobolo and miondo (food made out of fermented manioc), soya (spicy grilled meat on skewers), and plantain. My dad is half-french though, so at home we eat almost as much french food as cameroonian food (crème brûlée, shepherd’s pie, beef bourguignon, A LOT of bread and cheese).

  • Language

There are hundreds of different languages, but the official languages are French and English. Cameroon was colonized by France and England so Northern Cameroon mainly speaks english and central/southern Cameroon mainly speaks french. Most people also speak their ethnic group’s language. I don’t know how to speak Bassa, though, because neither do my parents. When me and my siblings were kids, our dad asked our baby-sitter to teach us, but she could only do so much and I only remember a few words.

  • Beauty Standards

Like most countries, there is a lot of colorism in Cameroon based on European beauty standards. When you’re a woman, the lighter you are, the prettier and more desirable you are considered. Dark skinned women are often mocked and considered not as pretty. A lot of people, mainly women but also men, use dangerous products to lighten their skin. Internalized racism and white beauty standards are very insidious, and a lot of people want to look like white people, including me when I was younger. As a kid I remember wishing i was a pretty blonde-haired blue-eyed white girl like the heroines of the books i was reading. Growing up I stopped wishing that, but I relaxed and straightened my hair a lot, wanting to have long straight hair without realizing that it was still an attempt to look like the ideal version of a white girl. I’m sure that if I had more black female characters to relate to when I was growing up, I wouldn’t have spend so many years hating myself without even realizing I was doing it.

Also, Cameroonians usually consider thick, curvy women to be the ideal beauty standard. But being thin is still an ideal broadcast by the media (especially that american and european media are heavily broadcast and consumed in Cameroon) so most women still diet a lot and go to the gym to lose weight.

  • Clothing

Women wear a lot of skirts and dresses, be it casual or for work. Most cameroonian schools have uniforms and mandatory hairstyles (either cornrows or short shaved hair).

Elderly people often wear more traditional clothes and outfits. The most prominent traditional item of clothing is the Kaba. The Kaba is a long dress made of wax fabric and other materials and is owned by pretty much every woman. The dress looks different depending on the situation : the Kaba you wear when you stay at home is usually very long and very loose, the Kaba you wear during official/formal events is more tight-fitting and stylized, etc.

  • Dating and Relationships

I’ve never dated anyone, but when I was in high school none of my friends ever told their parents they were seeing someone. Having your parents know about and meet the person you’re dating after only a few weeks or months is something that just doesn’t happen (unless someone gets pregnant). It’s when things get serious that you introduce them to your family. Also, a lot of parents would prefer their children to marry someone from the same ethnic group.

Homosexuality is still illegal there, and you can go to jail for being gay.

  • Home/Family life

My parents are still happily married, and I have 3 siblings. My parents are both close to their siblings, and I’m close to mine. Me and my siblings grew up with our cousins, we were always at each other’s houses. I pretty much consider most of my cousins as extra siblings. We have a very big extended family and every day I discover new distant cousins, aunts, great-uncles etc. My dad being half-french, when I was growing up we sometimes went to France during summer to visit his relatives living there.

In Cameroon, most people who have enough money to do so send their children to study abroad once they’ve graduated high school. I’m currently living in France for my studies, and most of my high school friends are also going to college in France, England, Canada, Brussels, South Africa etc.

  • Identity issues

Despite being only ¼ white, I’m very light-skinned. My siblings being much darker skinned, when I was a kid I thought I was adopted (i’m not, it’s just genetics). Cameroon being a black country, when someone is visibly mixed and light-skinned as i am, most people just label them “white”. A lot of people would refer to me as “the white” and it always really hurt me. My family wouldn’t understand why i was so angry and hurt, they’d say “they don’t mean anything by it, it’s just that you’re light” but the fact is it made me feel like i don’t belong. I’m cameroonian, i’ve lived in Cameroon almost my entire life, i’m black, and still some people see me as “other”, they see me as white. And so for a long time, I didn’t dare to call myself black, I’d say “I’m biracial” or “I’m mixed” instead because I somehow felt like a fraud. But I’m black and not white-passing at all, and I still experience racism abroad (but I’m aware I have a lot more privilege than dark skinned people).

  • Daily struggles

So I’m currently living in France. On one hand, sometimes white people are racist toward me, or just totally obnoxious and ignorant, trying to touch my natural hair and thinking that people in Cameroon don’t have computers or whatever. On the other hand, when I randomly meet other cameroonians and we start talking, they always assume that because i’m mixed i’ve lived my entire life in France and i don’t know anything about Cameroon. And there’s nothing wrong with being a child of immigrants and not knowing the country your parents or grandparents came from, but i know that if i wasn’t visibly mixed they wouldn’t question the fact that i know Cameroon and lived there my entire life.

  • Misconceptions

Because of how the media depict African countries, a lot of people think that everyone in Africa is extremely poor and starving, that we don’t have electricity and internet and that everyone lives in huts. Which is so false. We have rich people and poor people, we have huge modern cities and regular cities and small villages with huts, almost everyone has access to a tv and internet, etc.

  • Things I’d like to see less of

Cameroon and other african countries being depicted as poor unfortunate countries where everyone is starving and illiterate and waiting for the generous white people to save us. What we need is for people to see us as the humans we are, and to allow us to grow in peace.

  • Things I’d like to see more of

Black african characters being written as the complex human beings we are. Shy black african characters. Nerdy and hella smart black african characters. Mixed black african characters who struggle with their identity. LGBTQ black african characters.

  • Tropes/Stereotypes I’m tired of seeing.

The “savage”, “uncivilized” african. African characters who are aggressive, dumb and shout all the time. The poor africans in need of saving by white people.

Read more POC Profiles here or submit your own.

Okay but

Musty forest witch Roadhog, living in a small wooden hut in the deep woods. 

He goes out to gather ingredients for his brews and spells and gets followed by a pack of wild hogs everywhere. They lurk around his cabin too, serving as protectors if unfriendlies are approaching. 

The locals are dead scared of him but all he really wants is peace and quiet, so he chases any visitors off quickly by making the approach to his hut as scary as possible. (Mounted skulls, swampy mists and sinkholes litter the path) 

One night, he notices movement in the mist, a faint orange glow approaching. He thinks it’s villagers with torches come to burn him and his hut so he prepares a warding spell, but he’s surprised when he’s faced with a friendly fire spirit instead. 

The fire spirit is mischieveous, but Mako knows it’s not out to harm him. he hears it giggle in the middle of the night sometimes and knows his ingredients will have swapped places again. He doesn’t mind. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be pranked. Mako never really knew what it was like to have a friend, but he thinks he likes it.

At night, the orange glow of the spirit is a welcome companion. Mako often stays up late, brewing or writing recipes and the spirit is kind enough to provide him with the light to do so. It sometimes even points out flaws in his writing. Most of the time though, it’s curled up in Mako’s fur mantle, warm and cosy against his cheek. It’s fire burns bright, but it never hurts Mako. The little sighs of content are endearing to say the least. 

Mako often wanders out in the woods to gather shrooms for his next recipe. He thought he left the spirit safely back home today, but when he’s beset by a bear, the spirit jumps out and forms a protective circle of flames around him, the power chasing away the rabid bear. The spirit, exhausted from the display, is taken back home by Mako, where it can recharge in peace. Mako finds himself worried, lectures the spirit that it should have been more careful. 

“Had to protect you.”

It insists. Mako just sighs and thanks it for saving his life. He realizes he cares for this little troublemaker. 

Curious, Mako attempts to summon the entity behind the spirit one night and is surprised to find it is a young man, who tells him his name used to be Jamie. A forgotten beggar that died in the city streets of starvation, but who’s flame refuses to be extinguished. Jamie’s looking for his final resting place, a grave with no name. Nobody cared to know him then.

Moved by Jamie’s plight, Mako helps him find the grave, but Jamie is reluctant to move on even then. 

“I want to stay with you.”

He claims, and Mako nods. A witch and a fire spirit? There have been worse ideas.


Context: So here’s the lay down. We’re playing a sea fairing campaign and we’re trying to obtain a ship. Our party includes a Minotaur fighter, a Psionic; who is keeping her identity a secret from the rest of the group, two dragonborn brothers a cleric (me), and a sorcerer.  The sorcerer is a sharp tongued noble, the psionic has no patients for jokes and won’t hesitate to melt someone’s brain just for being obnoxious, i.e. the sorcerer.

DM: Okay so you form you party and are on your way to find the cause of disappearance of the town’s livestock. You arrive at the farm in question. There is a run down barn, a few small huts, and what appears to be a tool shed. What do you do?

Me: “I say we search the barn for clues.:

Sorcerer: “Okay let’s split up gang, you and the bovine go check the barn while our robed friend and I shack up in on of these huts!:

Psionic: "It is unwise to trust a robed stranger is it not?”

Fighter: “It’s also unwise to refer to me as a bovine, you ignorant lizard.”

Sorcerer: “It’s fiiiine i’m just joking around; however, hooded maiden the offer still stands.”

Me: “So to the barn then.”

We eventually figure out that their is a nest of giant rats who have been attacking the town’s livestock and stealing food and what not. The entire time the sorcerer continues badgering the Psionic, fast forwarding to the cave full of giant rats. Just got done with a fight everyone’s low on health and we’re about to rest.

Sorcerer: “This cave is a drag, why not head back to town and shack up in the inn? You can bunk with me love! (referring to the psionic)

Me: "For the love of Poseidon would you give it a rest! We have a job to do!”

Psionic IRL:  Sorcerer, make a intelligence check.

Sorcerer, IRL: What? Why?!

Psionic IRL: I’m using Mind thrust, make a intelligence check.

Sorcerer: “No! Wait i’m sorry!”

DM: Roll, she already said it.

Sorcerer: *rolls* …. 1

DM: oh……

Psionic: *rolls d10* I got a 10, how much health do you have?

Sorcerer: “…2”

Table looses it

DM: So yeah the sorcerer kinda grabs his head in agony and just slumps to the floor motionless. He’s dead.

Needless to say this is going to be a interesting campaign. I ended up using revivify on the sorcerer and continue our quest. All the while the sorcerer has been quite behaved since then.

Lust & Errors 02 (AU)

Rated: M

Warnings: Dom themes, marijuana usage, inappropriate step-siblings stuff, very light dubcon.

SummaryStep brother, fuck buddy… They were one and the same now. But what started out as some mindless fucking game, quickly turns into something much more difficult and complex.

Note: If you read all this, you deserve a kookie, forreal. The other BTS members feature in this (briefly) and SHOUTS OUT TO TOP FOR MAKING AN APPEARANCE. Also, to clear things up, I switched the ages around and Jungkook is a year older than the OC, Taehyung and Jimin. The three of them are seniors in high school and Jungkook graduated last year so he don’t go to school with them anymore. OH AND THE FIRST SCENE IS INSPIRED BY BLACK SWAN THE MOVIE. LOL BYE.


01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05.

Four days later.

It was a Monday. 

Humiliation washed over you like a fucking Tsunami. Your chest was heavy, palms sweaty, heart pounding, eyes stinging with tears, bottom lip quivering and a lump in your throat that was disabling you from speaking. 

Choi Seunghyun was an esteemed dance director - known all over the country and the day you auditioned and were accepted into his Studio, to say you were thrilled was a complete understatement. He was every bit professional, focused and dedicated to the art of making well-rounded ballerinas like yourself. Yes, he was tough and ruthless and sometimes even cruel when it came to instructing, never really even cracking a smile, just one hundred percent intent on working hard with his students - but that kind of behavior was what crafted good, professional dancers.

However… With your entire year of knowing him and being his student, you never knew he could be this cruel. After all your hard work, endless hours practicing in the studio, basically living, breathing and eating ballet all for the sake of the lead position in the upcoming show - he had the nerve to take it away from you

You were utterly shocked and mortified by the words that had come out of his mouth.

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Anything, just don't go

Ivar x Reader 

Warning: Angst, Violence, Some blood, guys its ivar

A/N: Idk, Im not sure that this came out very well, feedback is very appreciated :)


Originally posted by rickdixonandthefandomlifeposts

 "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ?!“ You ducked quickly, barely missing the ceramic mug that came flying towards your head. "Is that all you can do ?” You taunted him, your own anger impeding you from thinking rationally. Ivar looked like a wild animal, you could almost see the foams of anger around the corners of his mouth. He roared, his eyes closing tightly and his hands clenching around his favorite axe. Panic instantly flooded through you. 

This was bad, very very bad. 

You had always known Ivar to bee very violent, especially after having witnessed him kill one of your peers when you were just a small child. Nevertheless, he had never hurt you before, in all this time that you have grown up together. You’ve had the nastiest of arguments, but never had he touched his axe while yelling at you. Yet this time was different. 

Your heart was beating loudly, but the adrenaline that brought both the bravery and stupidity of anger was still pumping through your veins, you hated him at the moment. You were so mad, your hands were aching to bash his head into the wall, break his nose, slam the door and wreck the room. 

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Fly | Park Ji Min | One-Shot

jimin (bts) + you (reader)
word count: 12,842
warnings: there’s no violence in here but if survival scenarios make you uncomfortable there is a mild dose of that of course there is some smut but it’s nothing too rough it’s vanilla plus there is quite a bit of cussing hey he’s a pirate it is to be expected
a/n: the long awaited pirate!jimin fic is finally here good grief i feel like i have been working on this for years but it’s only been a couple months lol anyway hope you all enjoy i really like how it turned out but i will go ahead and add there will be no sequel or extra installments

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Requests: could you do an imagine where the reader is in a beauty and the beast kind of situation and he won’t let them go until they heard that her family was in danger (cause of the Resistance) and he gives her the choice to leave, but they don’t really want to leave? thanks, i love your writing! + I don’t know how to do requests, but I feel like it’d be cool to have a sort of beauty & the beast au if that isn’t too cliche lol???? + Hey so I had this idea after watching the new Beauty & the Beast movie the other day. Ben is cursed by witch lady or Snoke or something and becomes Kylo Ren, essentially UNTIL reader shows up and he goes back to the Light side. Idk. I might sound stupid…

A/N: First things first, this took me like two weeks to do bc I had others to write and this was really long. Second of all, it follows both the animated and live action versions; the characters don’t turn into things, rather, force ghosts (you’ll see), also this is based on Alderaan and you can easily tell which character is who. Anyway, thank you for the requests to those anons! Enjoy!

Warning: Mention of death

Word Count: 10K+ (oops)

The castle that sat atop of a snow covered mountain in the planet of Alderaan was long forgotten–and unheard of. No one dared to enter the land of the cold, seeing as no one was truly aware of its existence with their lack of need to travel the mountains. But, the castle was not abandoned nor was it vacant. Inside lived many souls that had been cursed, one in particular being the most brooding of them all.

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Wonky House by John Murray

Clearance (Ethan Dolan Mini-Series)


Living within an underground civilization, it is the dream of each member of the community to achieve Clearance.  In order to achieve this, you must be skilled in combat, have impeccable survival skills,  and be able to outsmart nearly everyone you approach.  Once you achieve clearance you are sent to Ground Zero, the main land where you are sent to protect and fight for the humans who have only known the real world, society as we know it. The day of testing comes; some of the trainees in the sector achieve Clearance, while others are held back for further training.  When those who are cleared are sent above, they realize that they aren’t meant to be the heroes they dreamt to be, the protectors that their leaders told them they would be, and the world above was nothing like they imagined it would be.

The indomitable sector trainees realize that all of their lives they were being lied to.  They weren’t going to be Gods to the human race… they were prey.

Word Count: 2,607

Warnings: Mild Language.

Authors Note: So this series is a big deal to me.  This is my most vulnerable piece of work yet because it’s an idea I’ve had for years and it’s also different and sometimes people don’t like different!  I hope you all keep an open mind and enjoy it!

“Hit harder!  Hit smarter!  You’re better than this!” The words were being screamed at Y/n as her fists flew at the opponent in front of her.  

“Leena, block your temples!  You know this!  Damn it you two!”

Genesis was a fierce, relentless instructor who showed no mercy physically or verbally.  She wasn’t afraid of belittling you in front of your sector while you fought against people who were supposed to be your allies.

Her dark brown hair was always braided at the sides back into a ponytail that dangled down to the center of her back.  There were times where Y/n wanted to wrap Genesis’s hair around her fist, tip her head back, and smash her fist against her face at a savage pace that took away her dominance and made her submit.

Leena drove her knee straight into Y/n’s gut before shoving her to the ground.  With a mixture of Genesis’s unending demands and Leena sending her straight down to the dirtied cement floor, rage built up in Y/n, taking over her body and her senses.  

Standing back up, Y/n took her sturdy stance before saying, “Sorry, Leena.” and sending an uppercut straight into her lower jaw.  As Leena stumbled back, she swiped her feet from under her, sending her off balance and straight to the ground where Y/n had previously been.

Groaning, Leena, rubbed her jaw with her right hand while her left hand rested against her stomach.  “Oh my god I think you broke my jaw.”  Leena mumbled as she tried her best to push herself up into a seated position.

“You wouldn’t be talking if it was broken.” Genesis growled.  Turning to two males who were standing in the corner Grayson and Leena’s twin brother Talon, she gave the order, “Take her to the infirmary, put in my request for a rapid healing, she’ll be fine by tomorrow for the Clearance Examination.”

Y/n’s head fell back as she sucked in deep breaths to calm herself.  It was never easy when Genesis came up with the idea of pinning best friends against each other for a duel. They knew that it wasn’t something they could control; they knew that it was just a part of the training whether they liked it or not.

As the boys guided Leena out of the room, another male walked in.  This male was tall, built like a gladiator and had a face cold as stone.  His shirt sleeves were tight around his muscular arms, defining every curve they formed.

“Cohen.” Genesis said a she submissively bowed her head to him.  The rest of them followed in suit.

He strode to the center of the room where Y/n was stood, her chest still heaving from the battle she had just finished. “Very good,” he tonelessly complimented her, “Right now, you’re the top female in the indomitable sector; an accomplishment that many would love to have.  But, it’s time for you to take the next step.”

“The next step?” Y/n asked, drained of nearly all her energy.

Cohen nodded sharply, “Being top in the sector; not just top female.  It does not matter if you’re a male or female, what matters is skill and ability.  It’s time to see if you are ready to take that position.”

“Right now?” Y/n’s voice came out challenging, earning a low growl from Cohen.  Bowing her head Y/n said, “I just finished fighting Leena.”

“You must be able to fight through pain and distress at all times.  It’s not going to be easy on Ground Zero.” he stated, shutting down her argument.  “Ethan!” he called out to the person she despised most in their underground community.

Ethan, ranked number one out of all of the students, made his way through the crowd of trainees surrounding her.  His face held a menacing smirk as he pulled off his jacket, tossing it to the side.  He cracked his knuckles in attempt to intimidate her, but she knew his game, she had seen this before.  His actions were done in a way to manipulate, to bait the competitors into his trap.

Ethan approached Y/n so that he was only a few inches away from her face.  She could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear as he leaned in to whisper, “I like to play with my prey before I finish the job.”

Anger rising in her, knowing that she shouldn’t let his taunting get to her, she gave into her rage and slammed her fist against his cheekbone, causing his eyelids to cover those ever changing orbs.

He stumbled back, his feet quickly and instinctively working to regain balance.  His deep chuckle went bone deep, pushing her to swing at him again which he swiftly dodged.  He caught her off guard by swinging his foot to hit the back of her leg, causing it to buckle underneath her and her face to slam against the ground.  He went to kick again, but she ducked before lifting back up and grabbing his foot, twisting it until he was on his hands and one knee.

What she wasn’t prepared for was his elbow to come up and slam against her head.  She let go of him to rub the throbbing area as she stumbled to stand up.  It was then that she realized that he was telling the truth.  He did like to play with his prey, and now he was going in for the kill.

She worked to block hit after hit from him until it became too overwhelming.  The impact of his swing was too strong for her body to hold up against.  He abruptly stopped his advances, allowing her to lower her arms from her face.  

“There’s one thing you need to know about combat,” he said to her, followed by a swift, strong jab to the gut, “In order to win, in order to survive,” he paused, readying his fist, “You have to fight dirty.”

As his fist soared in the direction of her face, she reached up and grabbed it with the little strength she had left, twisting it until she heard a crack.  Ethan let out a sharp hiss, but didn’t give much more of a reaction than that.  Her left hand reached up for his hair, lacing her fingers through it and pulled his head down so that she could slam it against the ground.

In the process, he managed to avoid impacting the cement with his head by twisting and pulling her on top of him.  He then rolled over until he was straddling her, his hands moving around her neck, squeezing to show that he was in control, but not enough to cut off her airways.  Even with a broken arm, he still managed to have enough strength to squeeze tight enough for her to be nervous.

“Submit.” he grunted as he gave her a warning squeeze.  When Y/n wouldn’t quit struggling against him he repeated himself, “Submit!”  Not giving up, she arched her back off the ground, trying her best to free herself, but she received one last warning that rumbled deep into her bones, causing her to freeze, “Y/N, SUBMIT!”

She let her body go limp in his hold, but he wouldn’t completely let go until the words came out of her mouth.  “Submission does not mean you are weak, Y/n.” Ethan told her.  “It means that you’re smart enough to live another day.  Submit.”

Exasperated and fatigued, she caved, “I submit.”  

Ethan brushed his hands on his pants as he stood up.  He held his hand out to her, but she smacked it away.  “Screw off, Dolan.”  She sat up, feeling the blood pour from her nose, the taste of it on her lips as it dripped to her chin.  Ethan didn’t look much better than her.  You could see bruises forming on his face and his arm was broken from her twisting it, but his face held no pain, only smugness and pride.

“Very good.” Cohen’s voice pulled them from their stare down.  “Both of you go to the infirmary and get healed.  There’s a new crew of sprouts coming up to start their training and you need to be there to welcome them; make them feel comfortable.” he walked away with his hands clasped behind his back, power radiating off of him.  Genesis followed behind him, her head held high.

Sending each other one final glare, both Ethan and Y/n sauntered off towards the infirmary where Grayson and Talon had taken Leena.  They did their best to avoid each other the whole way there, but that wasn’t unusual.

Not unusual at all.


Entering the main arena, Y/n took in the sight in front of her.  On the main floor sat nearly 100 sprouts.  Sprouts were children ranging from the ages of 5-7 who were sent there to begin their training.  The training facility would now become their new home.  Some of them were crying, some of them seemed excited, some seemed angry enough to demolish every other sprout in the room, and some sat blank faced like they had never experienced emotion.

“Hey,” Y/n felt a tap on the shoulder.  Turning, her eyes fell onto M, another member and friend of her’s in the indomitable sector.  “Can you help me calm down some of the crying sprouts.  They’re just scared.  This place is big and overwhelming.  They’re used to small huts with their parents.”

Y/n gave her a nod, “I hardly remember my parents.  These children will soon find out that their purpose is so much more than staying in a hut with two people whose role was to produce you.”

“Exactly,” M agreed, her eyes scanning all of the sprouts, “But, you know, coming from a mother’s womb a baby naturally feels a connection.  The difference with those on Ground Zero and us?  We forget connections with our parents, we aren’t meant to know what it’s like.  The parents don’t attach to us for a reason.  They aren’t our true home.  They aren’t our true caretakers.  The trainers are.  They’ll come around like they do every year.” with a quick rub on Y/n’s back, M walked away to work with a sprout who was screaming and clinging onto their twin.

In their community, being a twin or triplet wasn’t rare.  It was equally as common as having a single child.  This group of sprouts seemed to have a larger number of twins than past ones, which meant that if they learned to meet on one frequency together and work in sync, these twins or triplets could become a force to be reckoned with just like Leena and Talon along with Ethan and Grayson.

Bending down in front of a sprout whose face was buried in her hands, her sobs strong enough to shake her body, Y/n gently rubbed comforting circles on the child’s upper back, trying her best to soothe her.  “It’s going to be okay, little one.  You’re going to love it here.”

The little girl shook her head, pulling her hands away from her face to speak, “I want to go home with mommy and daddy!” her words came out in between sniffles.

Mommy and daddy?  Why would she call them that?  Moms and dads did not have nicknames.  Things remained formal between the parents and the sprouts.

“Mommy and daddy, um, they…” she awkwardly tried to respond, but it was a weird sentence for her to try to form.

“They were sad too!  Mommy and daddy wanted me to stay!” she shouted before throwing her face back into her hands, resuming her previous position.  “They dragged mommy and daddy away.  You are all mean!” she screamed into her hands.

Trying to be realistic with the child, Y/n did her best to explain things, “A mom and dad are meant to create us so that we can protect those who don’t have the ability to protect themselves.  Our parents do not keep us forever, they give us to the trainers and the community so that we can go above and be warriors for the common human.  Our parents are chosen to be with each other to create children who can ensure the future will be okay.”

“What?” the little girl asked, peeking through her fingers,  “GO AWAY!”

Eyes wide, Y/n held up her hands, backing away from the child.  A conversation with a sprout shouldn’t have had so many questions running through her mind.  Why were the parents forcefully dragged away?  Why were the parents crying and trying to keep the sprout?  Why did the child call them mommy and daddy?

Y/n chose to ignore the wails, laughs, and yells of the other sprouts and exited the arena.  Her pace started to pick up as she looked for Genesis, seeing if she knew what was going on.  Y/n was a curious person who had to know information right when she needed it, or else it would eat at her until she was either crazy or someone finally gave her what she wanted.

Her body slammed against what felt like a brick wall, but it wasn’t.  It was something much, much worse.  It was Ethan Dolan.

“Slow down, champ.” he told her sarcastically, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips.

“Move, Ethan.” she snapped, shifting from side to side, trying to get around him.  “I have to talk to Genesis.”

“About what?” he continued to block her from moving past him.

She stopped, folding her arms across her chest, “That’s none of your business.  Now move!”

“Just tell me.” he shrugged.





“Fine!” she gave in.  “It was just a question.”

“What was the question?” he asked, leaning against the metal wall.

Letting out a loud sigh she asked him, “What is the role of the parents?  What do our moms and dads do?”

He let out a loud laugh, his head falling back.  Her eyes narrowed in on him as he continued to manically laugh at her like she was a complete idiot.  He even had the nerve to place his hand on her shoulder to steady himself.

“Did you honestly just ask me what the role of a parent was?” he continued to laugh.

“What’s wrong with that?” she barked back, throwing her arms up.

He shook his head, “Everyone knows that the parents have us and move on.  If you don’t achieve Clearance you become a parent.  You have a child to send to the facility and then you are guaranteed a peaceful life.  It’s as simple as that.  Their role is to have us.  That’s all.”

The confusion on Y/n’s face must have been evident to Ethan because he stared at her, trying to read her.  Giving him one more questioning look she turned on her heel to head back to the arena.

“Where are you going?” Ethan started to jog to catch up with her.  No matter what this girl did, he always found himself wanting to get up in her business and work right alongside her, no matter how much she bothered him.

“I’m going to help the sprouts,” she told him matter-of-factly, “I tried to explain what a parent was to one of them and they had me questioning if I was right or wrong, which is weird because it’s just a sprout, but the way she described her parents was so weird.  I don’t know.  Whatever, she’s here now and nothing’s going to change that.”

Nothing would ever change that.



@scuteedolans @dolandreaming @dolanxtwinzz

anonymous asked:

37, Clexa (would love to see what your mind does with this one)

“You’re leaving.”

Lexa closed her eyes at the soft sound of Clarke’s voice. She kept her back to the door flap, to the midnight storm she knew she would find brewing in blue eyes.


“You don’t have to do this, Lexa.”

A slow stream of breath slithered across Lexa’s lips. She let her head hang. “Yes, I do.”

“You can stay,” Clarke said, and Lexa finally summoned the courage to face her. Her eyes were every bit the tragedy she imagined them to be. A thousand shades of sorrow. “You can choose to stay.”

Lexa looked her over, took in every inch of the woman who had stripped her every defense. The woman who had walked right up to the walls Lexa had spent years constructing around her heart and demanded entry. She took in her gentle hands, soft and deadly like Lexa’s own, curled into fists. Her quivering bottom lip. Her furrowed brow. Her pleading gaze. Her unsteady, shifting feet.

“We cannot hide from the war, Clarke,” Lexa said. “This life…” She glanced around their small hut, a shack Clarke had shakily thrown together. A place hidden by brush and debris, buried in the deep woods. Off the grid. “It is not sustainable.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to rush back before your wound is even healed,” Clarke said. She shook her head. “It doesn’t mean we have to go back at all. We can move forward. Find a place, somewhere south maybe, over the–”

“They are my people, Clarke,” Lexa said, the words hardly more than a whisper. She shrugged a single shoulder, a blip of movement, and cast her gaze to the floor. “My responsibility.”

“They tried to kill you!” Clarke tossed her arms up and then crossed them over her chest. She clenched her jaw and blinked back tears of frustration. “You were practically dead when I found you.”

Lexa could still feel the sting of the wound, the deep slice in her abdomen, patched by Clarke’s hand and slowly healing. She often woke to the feeling of the spear going in, the looping memory of the haunt in her warrior’s eyes as he turned on her. The warm gush of blood over her hand as she ran, lost herself to the woods, her great mother. She could still feel the cold press of Clarke’s hands to her cheeks, hear the trembling in her voice as she beckoned Lexa up from the curling dark. Open your eyes, Lexa. Please, please, open your eyes. Look at me!

“And I am grateful to you, Clarke.”

“I’m not asking you to be grateful,” Clarke growled out. “I’m asking you to be smart!” Her voice cracked. “Be safe.”

The words burned in Lexa’s cells, over every inch. Clarke’s care was a raging fire. Terrifying. Beautiful. Consuming. She took a slow deep breath, took a step toward Clarke. Then another. When they were sharing the same small space, the same warm air, she reached forward and took Clarke’s hand. “I will be cautious, Clarke,” she whispered. “You have my word.”

“I don’t want your word, Lexa.” Clarke inched forward until she could rest her forehead against Lexa’s.

Lexa squeezed Clarke’s fingers. “Then what do you want?”

“I want you alive,” Clarke whispered. “Here.” She slid her hand from Lexa’s palm to her forearm, over her elbow and up over the ripple of muscle in her upper arm. Her fingers traced over the leather strap of Lexa’s armor as it crossed the expanse of Lexa’s chest. She rested her hand over Lexa’s heart. “If you go back, you’ll die.”

Clarke had already seen so much death, had lost so many. The war had been waging for months now, each rogue faction frothing at the mouth for power. Her own people had been slaughtered in waves, leaving only the stragglers behind, scattering what was left of the sky to the wind. Clarke had barely gotten away, disguising herself when she needed to. Killing when she had to. There would be nothing left when the blood finally ran dry. Just a red earth and an empty sound.

Lexa closed her eyes at Clarke’s touch, the slow swipe of her, the warm press. She leaned further in until their noses brushed, their breaths came shallow. “If that is to be my fate,” she said, her lips grazing Clarke’s with a pop of static. She shuddered. “Then so be it.”

“I can’t lose another person I….” Clarke choked around the words, and Lexa closed the gap. She met Clarke in a trembling kiss, a sharp inhale, a wordless confession.

Their hands groped until their fingers tangled and clamped together. Their chests pressed in, bodies melting together, and the friction sparked a frenzy. It burned them to the ground. Lexa stripped Clarke of her shirt, let eager fingertips yank her armor off and away. Clarke’s skin was salt and sweat and salvation between Lexa’s lips. This, this again. Again and again and always.

Her wound stung when they collapsed onto the pallet on the floor, when Clarke crawled atop her, breathless and rocking, but she paid it no mind. The wound was nothing, an itch, an irritation. Pain was the glistening sheen in Clarke’s eyes  as she peaked atop Lexa’s fingers. It was the hollow spot Lexa felt carving itself inside at the thought of leaving, knowing Clarke could not come with her. Many of the clans wanted Wanheda’s head more than they wanted Lexa’s. But so many, she knew, were still true, still loyal. And suffering. She would go back for them, even if it meant her life. It was her duty. Pain was sacrifice, sacrifice despite the ease with which she could shed her past and flee. Sacrifice despite the way the curl of Clarke’s body around her own could shape her into something new, something free.

When they lay loose and limp together, spent, Clarke rested her head on Lexa’s chest and said, “You’re still leaving, aren’t you?”

Lexa let the words hang for one long, heavy moment. She clung to the silence, to the shocks still rippling between her legs. “What do you wish me to say, Clarke?”

Clarke sighed. “The truth.”

Carefully, Lexa rolled to face Clarke. Her wound objected, but she ignored the pain. She held Clarke’s knowing gaze when she said, “The truth will only hurt you.”

Clarke closed her eyes, a tear slipping free and disappearing into her hair. “Lie to me then.”

Lexa looked at her for a long time, silent. Her heart curled in around itself and clenched, ached in a way Lexa recognized. Something lasting. She inched closer and wrapped an arm around a warm waist, rested her cheek on top of Clarke’s so that her lips hovered just at her ear. “Rest now, Clarke,” she whispered. “I will be here when you wake.”

What you felt when you were with him

Ivar x Reader 

a/n: another bit of fluff, this might be a little different from the normal :) 

Originally posted by thefacesofdeath

You were waiting impatiently in front of the healer’s tent. You wrung your hands together nervously - you knew that Ivar was going to be alright, but knowing that he was in such deep pain and you could do nothing about him always bothered you greatly. You had always been aware of his existence, who in Kattegat didn’t know of the crippled prince who was destined to greatness and fame by the seer? However, you had truly met him during one of your raids. You were a fierce shield maiden, and although you might have not been the strongest, you were one of the deadliest due to your wit. All Viking warriors in their right mind respected your ideas and suggestions when it came to war strategy. In fact, you had been invited by the Ragnarsson’s to join them in dining so that you could discuss the plan of attack. You had arrived to their cabin on the large Viking ship, and opened the door swiftly and quietly without knocking; you wanted to see the way that they acted with each other so that you could better understand them - and pick enemies and allies. 
The scene in front of you was not entirely shocking, but not expected either. Ubbe and Hvitzervik were attempting to restrain Ivar, shouting loud curses at both him and Sigurd, who only kept encouraging the crippled man to a fight. Ivar’s knife whizzed by his brother’s head, missing it only by a few centimeters, only due to the fact that Sigurd had ducked last minute.

You coughed lightly, making everyone freeze. “You called me.” You cocked an eyebrow at the obviously dysfunctional family and began taking light and confident steps towards the center of the room.

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Third Visit - Draco Malfoy (Requested by Anon)

request -  Can I request a Draco Malfoy imagine where the reader is good with magical creatures and is trying to help Draco get over his incident with Buckbeak? And it’s cute and fluffy?

“Draco, please, this is my fifth time saying this in the last hour.” I huffed. “You’ll be fine!”

“But what if the creature pushes me down like how it did last time? Or shits on me like how it tried to do the other day? Goddammit (Y/N), I shouldn’t have listened to you.” He said in a frustrated tone. I scoffed at the audacity of his words, but carried on walking with him in the corridor, entering the forbidden forest while the sun was still shining.

“First of all, you weren’t with me either of those times, and that’s why all that happened to you.” I began to explain. “I for one am quite a natural with these
creatures, and I assure you nothing will happen today as it did before.”

“Well we’ll see about that.”

We walked a bit deeper in the forest to find the creature we were both talking about. We both met this hippogriff towards the beginning of our third year at Hogwarts, and with it being halfway through our fourth year, I finally convinced Draco to visit the creature once more to try to establish a ‘relationship’ between the two. You see, it was never easy for Draco and Buckbeak. The first time he didn’t treat him well, and the second time he made the mistake of trusting a second year on visiting the animal at the dead of the night. Will I ever understand his logic? Probably not.

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The Robin Cave

It’s Batfam week! Here’s today’s fic, based on the prompt ‘family’!

Tagging: @speedypan @laundrymoney

(Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this week!)




    Damian sprints for the yard, the kitchen door slamming closed behind him, almost completely muffling Bruce’s shouts for him to come back here this instant. Barefoot he runs through the soft green grass until he passes into the cool shade of the woods, acorns and gnarled roots jabbing at his feet.

    He isn’t pursued, he knows, but he keeps running to escape the tight burning in his belly, the frustration at his father’s asinine ‘rules’ sizzling like acid in his lungs. There’s fire in his chest, like he’s a dragon barely containing a flame behind his back teeth. He wants to scream and fight and kick as if he’s trapped in a box, but lashing out at his family never ends well for anyone. And so, he runs.

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Cold Hearted (Prince AU) Part 4

Originally posted by sugaglos

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8Part 9, Part 10Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20

Summary: After a poor introduction to Jaebum, the tension between you two only seems to grow.

Word Count: 4992

Warning: Blood, violence and smut in later parts.

“When soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.” -Prometheus Unbound

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adult!Remus Lupin Imagine - Stop Thinking

“Can I ask for a fic request? Lupin x reader… but it’s POA era so Lupin is a professor and the reader is a 7th year. They both dance around the fact that they’re clearly attracted to each other and he’s desperately trying to be the responsible teacher but eventually they succumb to their attraction…? :D x” - @nervetonic

“Hey so requests are open? Could you please do something with adult Remus Lupin x reader? There’s so many young Remus stuff, which I love, but I could barely find adult remus stuff. Thank you so much! :3″ - Anon

So it sure has been a long time since I’ve posted anything lololol. I am going to put a slight warning on this one - I didn’t write a student/teacher relationship, but I did make the reader considerably younger than Remus. Also I’m going to have a language warning because I definitely threw in a couple of “fuck”s. As always I proofread a bunch so if there are any errors please forgive me! To the anon whose request I combined into the original one I received, if you’re not happy with this please feel free to send in another request when I open them back up; Remus is my fave and I would be happy to write more imagines for him!

Word Count: 4,000+


The Great Hall overflowed with excited students, each trying to talk over the others as they welcomed the new members of their houses and reconnected with their friends. The sorting had just finished and Dumbledore was preparing to stand and give his traditional start of term speech.

(Y/n) glanced around Hagrid, who was seated next to her, down the long table that seated all of the Hogwarts’ professors. Her eyes connected with Professor McGonagall, who nodded slightly, offering (y/n) a small encouraging smile. (Y/n) smiled back, before continuing to peer down the table; she quickly skimmed past Snape, avoiding eye contact, before landing on a new professor she didn’t recognize.

His face was adorned with a few small slashes that had faded into the premature wrinkles around his eyes. The flecks of grey in his hair shone in the light from the thousands of candles hanging above them. He smiled slightly at something Professor Flitwick said and (y/n) couldn’t help but admit that he was handsome. She continued to stare at his profile only slightly paying attention to the other professors chatting around her.

(Y/n)’s reverie was broken by Dumbledore standing and beginning his welcome speech. She flushed when she realized how openly she had been staring at the new professor and tried to focus on Dumbledore’s words.

“This year we are happy to welcome a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Remus Lupin,” Dumbledore said, gesturing toward the man (y/n) had just been admiring as he stood and nodded his head at the students who were giving some half-hearted applause at the announcement. “We are also happy to announce that our own groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, will be taking over as the Care of Magical Creatures professor.” The Gryffindor table erupted into applause, supported weakly by the other houses, when Hagrid stood, looking a bit sheepish. “I would also like to welcome a recent Hogwarts graduate, Ms. (y/n) (y/l/n), who will be working with Hagrid in both his teaching and maintenance endeavors.” You gave a small nod and wave to your former house, who had given a few small cheers in response Dumbledore’s announcement.

Dumbledore gave a few short announcements, half-jokingly warned the first years about the Forbidden Forest, and finally concluded with a wave of his hand. The feast began and (y/n) took up a conversation with Hagrid and Professor Sprout, discussing new treatments for this year’s pumpkin harvest. Despite being engrossed in her conversation, (y/n) found herself glancing over at the new professor, Professor Lupin she had just learned, every few minutes.


The first few weeks of the school year were a whirlwind for Remus. Classes had been going well, the students seemed to be enjoying them and seeing Harry for the first time in so many years had been both gut-wrenching and heartwarming. Remus was currently working on his lesson plans for the next couple of weeks, and considering how successful he had been, he thought it best to send for a few magical creatures to give the students more hands on practice.

Remus considered placing his own order, but thought it would be more efficient to tack it onto whatever Hagrid was probably getting for his own class. He began the trek down to Hagrid’s hut as the sun was setting and upon arriving he was not greeted by Hagrid, but by a girl skillfully ushering a hoard of nifflers into a pen set up next to Hagrid’s garden. She was bathed in the golden light of the setting sun and Remus found himself staring at her as she shooed the last one through the gate and locked it with a tap of her wand. She turned to Remus and stopped short, jumping a little, obviously surprised by his presence.

“Sorry to scare you,” Remus said, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed at the way he had been watching her. He cleared his throat, shaking off the feeling. “Ms. (y/l/n), correct?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” (y/n) broke her silence. They both paused for a moment before (y/n) spoke up again, “did you need something?” Her eyes grew a little and she quickly backtracked. “I’m so sorry, that didn’t come out right. I just-”

“It’s alright,” Remus chuckled, “I know what you meant. I was actually looking for Hagrid, is he around?”

“No, he headed into Hogsmeade for the evening,” (y/n) paused, still looking a little disoriented, “sorry about that, but if it’s not too complicated I might be able to help.”

Remus chuckled, “I was actually thinking of ordering a grindylow to use during lessons, is Hagrid putting in an order soon?”

“Yeah, we were going to send the order in tomorrow, so we can add that to the list,” (y/n) signaled for Remus to follow her into Hagrid’s hut. “I would have loved having real lessons with actual magical creatures last year,” (y/n) said while searching for the order sheet amongst the stacks of paper spread across Hagrid’s table. “We only had one lesson that was hands on, and it was with Cornish Pixies, so I’m sure you can imagine how that ended.”

Remus and (y/n) laughed together, “I’ve heard a few stories of Professor Lockhart,” Remus said, a small smile still spread across his face.

“You’re lucky you never had to meet him,” (y/n) mumbled, still sifting through the mountain of papers.

“Actually, we were at Hogwarts at the same time, I was a bit older but I heard quite a few stories of his… escapades?” Remus and (y/n) laughed again, but he could see that something had flashed in her eyes. She stiffened slightly and looked back down at the table.

“Here it is,” (y/n) said holding up the order, she cleared a small part of the table and retrieved a quill preparing to add ‘grindylow’ to the list. “Just the one?” she asked, glancing back up at Remus.

“I think that should be fine, do you agree? You are the expert on magical creatures here,” he said, coaxing a smile out of (y/n).

“Hardly,” she said, “that’s why I’m working with Hagrid, there’s always more to learn.”

The pair paused, looking at each other, Remus still couldn’t decipher what was going on in her mind.

“I think just the one should be fine,” (y/n) said breaking the silence that was quickly becoming awkward and jotting it down at the bottom of the list.

Remus and (y/n) walked out of Hagrid’s hut in silence, pausing at the bottom of the stairs that led to Hagrid’s door. Remus couldn’t help but compare the moment to the end of a first date. He quickly forced the thought away, and cleared his throat before thanking (y/n).

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” (y/n) said, smiling before looking back down at the ground, “it’s getting dark so uh-”

“I should probably get back up to the castle before it’s too dark to see,” Remus said, trying to smile or laugh, anything to remove the tension from the moment. “I’m sure I’ll see you around the grounds,” he said starting to walk away, “or whenever I have any questions for the magical creature expert.”

“You should probably make sure Hagrid is here then,” (y/n) said smirking and offering a small wave. She turned and headed toward her small hut that had been built next to Hagrid’s.

Remus walked the entire way back up to the castle with a smile that he couldn’t quite shake off. She’s practically a student, he told himself, you’re almost double her age. Remus paused a few steps away from the entrance to his office. There’s nothing wrong with being her friend, she works at Hogwarts, and you’re bound to run into her. Remus finally entered his office, taking off his cloak and preparing for bed, the entire time repeating loose justifications for spending time with (y/n) to himself.


(Y/n) quickly entered her hut, shutting and bolting the door before leaning her back against it. She slid down onto the floor and pressed her palms to her burning cheeks. Holy shit (y/n) get a grip. He’s a professor. (Y/n) dropped her hands from her face and pulled her knees to her chest, but you work here now. “That doesn’t change anything” she whispered aloud, slowly getting up and changing into a huge tshirt and athletic shorts before sitting down on the edge of her bed.

(Y/n) flopped backwards and crossed her arms over her face. She replayed the evening in her mind. She had felt his equal through their conversation, and then he had mentioned attending Hogwarts with Lockhart and (y/n) had realized just how unequal they were. He was a professor, and she was still practically a student. But the way he looked at me- (y/n) cut off her own thought, you can’t think like that, he was just being friendly.

Removing her arms from her face, (y/n) slipped under the covers and struggled to fall asleep and her mind raced with justifications for talking to Remus again.


Over the next couple of weeks Remus started to seek out little conversations with (y/n) whenever he got the chance. Remus would “forget” little facts about magical creatures, and asking (y/n) for the answer was easier than looking it up in some old book, right? He pretended not to thrive off the way her eyes lit up when as she answered his questions, or the way her lips would curl into a smirk whenever they joked with each other.

Remus was making his way across the grounds one afternoon when he saw (y/n) coming toward him looking solemn. Completely absorbed in her own thoughts, she didn’t even see Remus coming.

“(Y/n)?” Remus called, causing to her look at him with wide eyes, reminding Remus of their first official meeting. When she didn’t answer, he continued, “are you alright? Did something happen?”

“Yeah- well, no. No it’s really not.” Remus could see the tears welling up in her eyes. (Y/n) turned her face and blinked hard, fighting them back. She turned back to him, obviously still fighting her emotions, “I have to get up to the castle, excuse me.”

Remus stood and watched her leave, then turned to continue down to Hagrid’s. When he was about halfway there he remembered that (y/n) was the reason he was heading there anyway. I don’t even have a question for her, I just wanted to see her. Remus had to sit on a nearby rock to recover from the shock of his realization. After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he rose slowly and headed back toward the castle with every intention of retrieving his bottle of firewhiskey, sitting in his office, and forgetting that this had even happened.

Sitting in his office an hour later, vision blurring at the edges thanks to bottle sitting in front of him, he still couldn’t stop thinking about (y/n).

The image of her with tears in her eyes stirred up a whirlwind of emotion in Remus. In that moment he had longed to draw her into his arms and let her cry. At the same time, he admired how she had handled herself, holding her head high despite her obvious distress.

She’s strong, intelligent, funny, beautiful. Merlin, she’s so pretty. The way she always tucks her hair behind her ears when she starts to talk about her work, or the way she smiles when she sees me coming across the grounds, or the way-



(Y/n) sat outside the doors of the hospital wing, trying to reign her emotions before going in. She couldn’t cry once she got inside, this was her job, for Merlin’s sake.

Draco had been “attacked” by Buckbeak earlier that day and Hagrid had sent her to check on his progress. (Y/n) wasn’t crying for Draco, her tears were for Hagrid. He had worked so hard to make his lessons exciting and informational, and then Draco had waltzed in and it had all come crashing down. She could see the defeat in Hagrid’s face, he was convinced he would be fired the second Lucius got word that his son was in the hospital wing.

She drew in a single deep breath before rising and pushing the doors open. Her discussion with Madame Pomfrey was short and to the point. As soon as it was over (y/n) rushed back down to Hagrid’s hut so that she could update him.

Once (y/n) finished telling Hagrid that Draco would ultimately be fine, his injuries were all superficial and easily healed, she headed to her hut once again sat against her door trying to gather her thoughts. She found her mind wandering to when she had run into Remus earlier that evening.

He was headed down to Hagrid’s- or maybe to see me? I’ve never seen him actually talk to Hagrid he always comes to spend time with me and ask me questions. Why would he-



Over the next few of days (y/n) didn’t see Remus at all; the first couple of days weren’t a surprise, there had been a full moon which would have left Remus bedridden. She had figured it out the month before that Remus was a werewolf, and while she been angry at first, she came to realize that it didn’t change him. He was still the man with the kind and gentle smile who visited her and made her laugh whenever he could. The days following the moon were a mystery to (y/n) though, he still hadn’t come to see her and she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

While she was preparing the flobberworms for Hagrid’s, now tamer, class her mind kept wandering back to him. He can’t be mad because I brushed him off when I was crying, right? That’s ridiculous, he’s my… friend? Is that even the right word for what we are? ‘Co-workers’ who spend a lot of time together and are attracted to each other? Or at least, I’m attracted to him, and I don’t think he’s attracted to me… but he has been acting weird.

(Y/n) stood up straight so that she could shake out her shoulders, she just needed to talk to him. She wanted to get back to how they had been before. Whether or not (y/n) was attracted to him was beside the point, that was never going to happen so she might as well be his friend.

Christmas was fast approaching and (y/n) planned to talk to seek out Remus, something she had never needed to do before, so that she could get weird friendship back on track. They were both staying over the break and it would be much easier to talk to him when there weren’t a lot of students milling around and they both didn’t have much work to do.


Remus, on the other hand, was hell bent on avoiding (y/n) for as long as he could. The first few days after his realization had been easy because there was a full moon and he needed time to recover, but after that it would steadily grow more difficult. He knew that he should at least tell (y/n) that he had no interest in being her friend, a bold-faced lie, but better than just never talking to her again. However, he also knew that he would never be able to get the words out once he saw her.

Christmas break was starting and Remus wrongfully assumed that (y/n) was going home to see her family. On Christmas Eve he sat at his desk grading the last batch of essays from the sixth years when he heard a soft knock on his already open office door.

He glanced up to see (y/n) standing in his doorway looking sheepish.

“Hi,” she said quietly, offering a small smile. “Do you mind if I…” she trailed off looking at the chair in front of his desk.

After recovering from his mild shock, Remus nodded. “Ye-yes, please sit down. Did you need something?” he asked and without missing a beat continued, “I’m so sorry, that came out wrong-”

“I know what you meant,” (y/n) said trying not to smile, remembering the way they had first met. Remus ducked his head, chuckling slightly. “I just wanted to drop by and say hello… you stopped coming around,” (y/n) paused, knotting her hands together, “I guess you didn’t need my expert advice anymore.”

The pair both gave each other strained smiles. Remus took a deep breath, opened his mouth to speak, but closed it quickly. He stood, moved across his office, closed the door, and then returned to his seat across from (y/n). Forcing himself to make eye contact with her, he felt a pang of guilt when he saw how confused and… hurt maybe? he wondered to himself.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been to see you, but… I’m not sure that it’s entirely appropriate for us to see each other as much as we were.”

“I don’t understand,” (y/n) said, having trouble keeping her voice from wavering. “It’s not appropriate for us to talk to each other about our jobs?”


“No, it’s fine. If you don’t want to talk to me anymore that’s fine. It’s fine. It’s really, really, fine.” Remus could see that (y/n) was forcing back tears, and he knew that he had let this go on too long, but there was no turning back now.

(Y/n) took in a shaky breath and stood quickly forcing her chair back; the screeching sound it made cut through the heavy silence hanging in the air. She turned to the door, but before she could go anywhere Remus stood and caught her arm from across the desk.

“Of course I want to talk to you,” he said, his voice dipping, causing goosebumps to erupt across (y/n)’s arms. He dropped her arm so that he could walk around his desk and stand in front of her. (Y/n) stayed silent, staring at Remus and searching his eyes for the meaning behind his words.

Remus lifted his hand and with a lot of hesitation, rested his palm against (y/n)’s cheek. She flinched slightly at his touch, but allowed him to keep his hand there.

“What are you doing?” (y/n) whispered breathlessly.

“I’m not sure,” Remus replied before tilting his head closer to hers. He could feel his heart pounding as he watched (y/n)’s eyes flickered shut. Remus closed his too and rested his forehead against hers. (Y/n) fisted her hand into the front of his shirt, keeping the other balled at her side.

(Y/n) lifted her chin, brushing her lips softly against Remus’. “This is mad,” she whispered.

“Never been the best at making decisions,” Remus said, out of breath just from his proximity to (y/n).

“Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Remus’ stomach jumped against (y/n)’s hand as he held back a little laugh at her boldness. Pulling in a shaky breath, he pressed his lips gently to hers, then more forcefully. (Y/n) responded with enthusiasm, letting out a soft moan when Remus slid his hand back into her hair. Remus growled at the sound and snaked his other arm around her waist to pull her flush to him. (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck, standing up on her toes to push impossibly close to him. Remus opened his mouth, sliding his tongue across her bottom lip, when (y/n) opened her mouth in response, Remus’ eyes flew open suddenly realizing exactly what was happening.

He pulled his mouth way from her and pushed her away from him by the hips, ensuring that she was at least an arm’s length away. Remus turned away from her and ran a hand down his face, letting out a shaky breath.


(Y/n) stood where Remus had pushed her breathing heavily. She stared at his tense shoulders, trying to think of something to say. She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, he had been in control of the entire situation. (Y/n) stayed quiet, waiting for him to say something, anything.

When Remus finally turned around, breathing under control, (y/n) could see the regret painted across his face. Before he could speak (y/n) spoke.


“Don’t wha-”

“You don’t have to explain to me why that was a mistake, or why we shouldn’t talk about it, or see each other, or whatever you were going to say. I don’t want to hear it. If that’s what you really want, fine, but-” (y/n) paused, gathering herself, “but I’m an adult and I can take care of myself.”

They stood staring at each other while (y/n) waited for Remus to say something. When he didn’t she looked away from him, toward to door.

“Cool, okay… yeah, no this is fine.”

“(Y/n),” Remus said, but didn’t continue.

(Y/n) took a deep breath, “I’m going to go back down to my hut. I’m going to make some hot chocolate and pretend like this never happened. It’s not exactly going to be easy, but what’s a girl supposed to do,” she finished chuckling to cover the hurt that laced her voice.

Later that night (y/n) sat in a big armchair that resided in the corner of her hut, reading one of her favorite books and trying to keep her mind off Remus. She wasn’t actually succeeding though, she kept replaying their kiss in her head. It was more than just a kiss, we were making out, like full on-

(Y/n)’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door. She rose slowly, expecting Hagrid with some sort of task for her that he didn’t want to handle himself. (Y/n) opened the door while saying, “hi Hagri-”

(Y/n) stopped short at the sight of Remus standing in her doorway.

“Not Hagrid.”

“Yeah, I got that,” (y/n) said quietly. “Do you want to…” she trailed off motioning into the single room of her hut, “it’s freezing outside.”

“Thank you,” Remus said stepping inside. They both stood awkwardly, not really looking at each other. Finally, Remus spoke, “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Kissing me or regretting it right after?” (y/n) asked, anger bubbling to the surface.

“Both?” Remus hesitated, “it would have made it a lot easier to work here, with you, had I not.”

“But you did,” (y/n) said forcing her anger down and keeping her tone neutral.

Remus’ shoulders sagged, “I did, and- and I’m glad I did, because I’ve wanted to for longer than I’d care to admit, but… but this isn’t exactly a normal situation. There’s more to this than just-”

“Is this about you being older than me or you being a werewolf?” (y/n) asked without skipping a beat and looking, for the most part, calm.

Remus stared at her, lips drawn into a tight line and jaw clenched.

“I’ve known since last month, you’re not the subtlest when it comes to-”

“I think I should go,” Remus cut (y/n) off. He turned toward the door, prepared to leave and, as far as (y/n) knew, not return.

“I don’t care.”

Remus stopped in his tracks, whipping his head around to give her a stern look. “You should.”

“Well I don’t,” (y/n) paused, gauging Remus’ reaction. When he turned back around to face her, she continued, “I don’t care that you’re a werewolf, because you’re still you. And I don’t what people would think of us. That shouldn’t matter.”

“(Y/n), I just think-”

“So then stop thinking.”


Remus let out a sigh, staring at the fierce girl in front of him. She wasn’t backing down, wasn’t making this any easier for him. He hadn’t been sure what he was going to say to her or what direction this conversation was going to go in, but he didn’t expect her to blurt out that she knew he was a werewolf. He sure as hell didn’t expect her to be okay with it.

“You’re still thinking,” (y/n) said when Remus didn’t respond.


“Okay, what?”

“I’m done thinking,” Remus said stepping toward her and resting his hand on her face in the same place it had been only a couple of hours earlier.

“Good,” (y/n) whispered, fisting her hands in his shirt and pushing up on her toes, “that makes two of us.”