Hi! Saw your post. Can I request Damian Wayne x male reader that's the apprentice and adopted son of John Constantine? Just thought that the contrast between teen boy that's being raised by disciplined dad and teen boy that's being raised by chaotic dad would be funny.
Parallel Play
Summary: What could a Robin and a magician have in common?
Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male!Constantine!Reader
Word count: 1.1k
Tags/warnings: reader is adopted/a ward of john, nothing much
Studies on parallel play typically involve children from the ages of roughly eighteen months to four years old. To watch as the children exist in the same space while doing different activities, and it’s not typically mentioned past that stage in development, but it is, and this is a fact that everyone Damian cares about agrees to, that young adults and adults do also benefit from parallel play. It’s something he often does, enjoys,s and prefers it to having someone ruin his activity by sharing it or pestering him until he snaps and ruins the shared space. Parallel play is most definitely one of the better discoveries for child development.
Although his boyfriend calls it let’s ignore each other in the same room time, it has the same meaning.
You’re both hanging out in one of the various rooms that the House of Mystery has to offer; glad that the house has manifested so you didn’t have to deal with either of your oddly judgmental parents so you could have your lets ignore each other in the same room time in peace. Damian was in one half of the room, sword fighting against a sentient knight while you were in the other corner, trying to summon the list for the next three months of Crumbl Cookie— a treat you enjoy but Damian will wholeheartedly scoff at before buying you whichever cookie of the week you’d wanted.
“I’m seeing,” You pull a face, waving your hands around as if that would speed up the spell. Damian pretends to not care but he made a point of fighting the knight so he could see you. “Cookies and cream tres leche, cookie dough, vanilla crumb cake with Golden Oreos, French toast, monster with M&M’s, churro, and sugar cookie,”
He scrunches his nose for a moment before looking back at the sentient knight, blocking its attack just before it swung the sword down at him. “Sounds… sweet,” Something positive, he reminds himself, forcing something that can be taken either way because he knows your sweet tooth is bigger than your stomach can handle. “Which do you want?”
“Well,” Your voice goes dreamy as you start to explain that with seven cookies, you can realistically get one every day— two on Saturday since they’re closed on Sundays. He listens intently, eventually beating the knight as you’re still talking while starting to create a summoning circle to locate some item, homework from your guardian. Create a summoning circle and pull an item from somewhere in the universe. Each time you perform the spell the item should get bigger whether in size or quantity. It’s how you ended up with a limited edition Robin leatherman jacket; the same one you’re currently wearing. He still remembers when the company that made the line had to make another because they promised the public ten but could only find nine the week before the highly anticipated launch.
You’re like that often, a little spoiled, and Damian supposed he’s partly to blame for that fact. Him and Constantine; the man gives into nearly all of your whims and the ones he doesn’t, Damian surely does. It’s just… he has a hard time saying no to you. His eyes travel from the knight rearranging itself to you as you’re finishing up the last bit of the circle; a candy cigarette between your teeth and focused on getting the small details perfect. Piercings litter your ears, pure metals that shine in the candlelight and a lone lip ring in the middle of your lower lip. Some of them have carvings of protection that mirror the ones on his bracelet.
“To keep my boyf safe, duh,” You had rolled your eyes when he asked why you’d gifted him something so far from his birthday, your anniversary, and Christmas. Boyf, one of the few terms of endearment you’ve taken to call him that he cannot get behind. And he’s tried and tried. Thankfully, it’s not something you use often, it’s mainly when you’re joking around or want to peeve him in some form. The one time he’d called you ‘boyf’ back you’d laughed your ass off, literally falling off of the bed before apologizing and begging him to say it again. He refused, of course.
“What’re you summoning this time?” He takes a step back as the knight swings at him, focusing back on his training session.
“Uh, not sure.” You huff, staring at the circle. “D’ya think I could summon a crate of… like… vodka?”
He blinks, ducking under the metal blade while trying to come up with a response. Something better than his initial response Yes, but it’s stupid to do so. “Why would you need one?” He says, instead, nicer and more to the point than the first thing that came to mind. You shrug, lips pursed before looking at him, eyes taking him in as if it was your first time. He was sweaty, rounds of fighting this magic-infused knight clear on the white shirt he’d worn, the sweat that collected on the ends of his hair. “Why not a crate of juice?” Him speaking pulls your eyes back down to his face and you hum. That’s better, you guess. Safer. But, then again, you’re about to head back to college soon and having a shit ton of alcohol would definitely put you in several frat houses' good graces after your pranks.
Spring break was nearly coming to an end, Easter had come and passed— you’d gotten lovely easter baskets from several people— and while you weren’t dreading going back, you certainly didn’t want to. It was better here, traveling with John. In college, you sat through lectures and followed stupid rules, and had to hide your magic. The only plus was the solitude you and Damian had; time together, uninterrupted by his siblings or some type of demon. And the parties. The parties were always cool.
But even then, time with Damian was sparse. He was on the med track, which meant he was almost always studying— thankfully, the two of you figured out he could brush up on his anatomy using your body. You had a lighter load, majoring in theology; something you naturally called in and even if you didn’t, you were more than capable of finding the answers in the library John had amassed. Him or some of the countless occultists you knew and liked you enough to tell you things. There wasn’t much you could use Damian for; aside from hearing him speak in languages, pretending that you needed help reading certain passages.
You’ve been staring at him for longer than normal, you realize and look away, blinking towards the summoning circle. What’s bigger than a jacket that’s useful? Two jackets, maybe. But that would be boring and you hate boring. Damian sighs and you look at him, watching as he fights with himself before speaking. “Why don’t you summon the Wishbone tour merch? It was sold out when we went,”
“Oh, Dames!” You grin madly, standing up to perform the spell. “I knew you loved me!”
*Clutches heart as traitorous brain conjures an image of Witch/Wizard reader mentioning they were offered a job in the wizarding world and the family slowly realizing if they don’t act they will lose reader*
Fun angsty idea:
Warning: Yandere Themes, Bit of Angst, GN!Reader
☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
Wizard/Witch/Magical!BatSib!Reader pulling a Hermione on the family and wiping their memories of them.
Like, they were already the neglected and forgotten child, but now they are fully committing to a magical lifestyle and leaving non-magical life behind.
(Probably not what you had in mind. Sorry ‘bout that.)
☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
It’s not necessarily you running away that’s the gut wrenching part. It’s the way you remove the trace memories. Not only from the manor, but from everyone’s mind. It takes true skill to be messing with Batman and his protégés memories.
But, then you see first hand just how little you take up their thoughts. Practically a blink and you’ll miss it moment. How quick it takes you to pull the memories and passing thoughts of you from their heads.
You don’t bother to look at them. You don’t want to see what they thought of you in those tiny little wisp.
It’s almost easy in the to transfigure your old bed room into a guest bedroom, completed with an authentic layer of light dust.
Cool washes over as you finish with Bruce. Your father. Standing behind him in the Batcave while he focuses on the monitor. By now you had mastered the memory charm. Silently casting it and pulling the wisp away before vanishing from their lives.
It’s a kindness you decide. Bruce hates magic, maybe even hated you. By removing yourself you free up his and the rest of the families thoughts, even if only by a small bit. It was for the best.
Or, it should have been.
Did you really think Bruce wouldn’t notice the faintest gap at some point? The man was too aware of himself. To trapped in his own head not to notice the small missing piece.
He may not have known the method, but he was livid at the audacity. His mind was his most powerful weapon, his most used tool. And, someone had tampered with it.
It doesn’t help that the added mystery to it further entices the family to discover what is happening. Further draws them to whatever they lost.
Really you should have known better.
You taking yourself away from them left them digging their fingers to that small little space. Stretching it wider and wider to figure out what used to fit in there. Like they were digging at a tiny cut and turning it into a weeping gash with their nails.
And, when they find out that it wasn’t anything malicious, that wasn’t an enemy trying to tear at their psyches? That instead it was just a lost forgotten child leaving them? Well, they have plenty of space made for you in the minds they tore apart searching for you.
How Bruce would despise the magic you do for taking you from him. How he would blame every book you read and every mentor you ever had for your erasure.
He’s a generous man. He really is. But, stealing yourself from him leaves him enraged.
But, not at you, baby. You just believed in a fairytale. It’s not your fault. He’ll bring you back to reality. They all will.
Summary: The golden trio needs Y/N’s help, but George hates his wife being in danger
Warnings: none that I can think of? Let me know if there should be!
Word count: 6.3k
Y’all I’m so proud of the way this turned out, so I hope you like it!
“Absolutely not!” George Weasley leapt to his feet from his charcoal gray couch, glaring at Harry Potter with a fiery look in his eyes that rivaled the brilliant shade of his hair.
“Why not?” Harry argued, also getting to his feet. “This is life and death!”
“We wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t,” Ron cut in, and Hermione nodded.
George scowled, far from convinced. “Look, Harry, I get that this is important “chosen one” business, and I am happy to see the three of you are still alive, but you’re not dragging Y/N into your top-secret mission. She’s a person, not a tool.”
“I know that,” Harry replied defensively.
“And yet,” George said hotly, his hand gestures getting more and more animated, “you’re here in my living room at three o’clock in the morning to ask Y/N to use her powers when you know how that affects her!” He rubbed his forehead. “How did you guys even find this house? It’s been charmed to high heaven!”
Ron and Harry looked at Hermione, who shrugged. “You’re trying so hard to keep You-Know-Who out, it doesn’t seem to matter who else slips in.”
George rolled his eyes. Sometimes the young witch was too bright for her own good. “Well, if you found your way in, it means you can find your way out again.”
“But we have to talk to Y/N!” Harry protested.
George folded his arms stubbornly. “You’re not going to.”
“Surely there’s no harm in at least asking for her help,” Ron said, and George immediately rounded on him.
“You know as well as I do that she can never say no to anyone, even if it kills her.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Hermione replied in her know-it-all voice. “No one’s ever died while attempting catoptromancy.”
George glared at the bushy-haired witch, who shrank into his brother’s side, looking terrified. “Maybe they haven’t died, but they have lost their minds. When Y/N and I first moved here, I had to remove every mirror in this house before she’d even step foot inside.”
“Please?” Harry begged. “It’s very important.” From behind Harry, Ron nodded gravely.
George’s nostrils flared, giving the impression he was a wild bull about to charge. “Do you mind telling me exactly what is so important that you’re willing to force my wife into insanity?”
Harry glanced uneasily at his best friends, and George didn’t like their solemn expressions.
“We…erm…” Ron trailed off, his courage buckling under the wrath burning in his brother’s face. “We can’t tell you,” he muttered, his face flushing a bright red.
George’s eyes flashed like lightning, and the trio knew the storm was right on top of them, for his thunderous words followed immediately after. “Get out of my house!” he roared.
In the silence that followed his order, all four of them heard the same sound: feet on the stairs.
“George?”
Harry, Hermione, and Ron had never seen George’s temper deflate so quickly as he strode to the staircase, just in time to meet Y/N at the bottom.
They all knew she’d just woken up, for she smothered a yawn, and there was a light, floral robe wrapped around her. “What’s going on?” Y/N asked, rubbing at her sleepy eyes.
George gently rested his hands on her shoulder, turning her around. “Nothing, honey, just go back upstairs, okay? I’ll be up there soon.”
But before Y/N had even climbed one stair, Harry piped up. “Y/N, we need your help.” Y/N immediately faced the trio, and George shot a glower so powerful in Harry’s direction, it nearly made him lose his nerve.
“Don’t listen to them,” George said, starting to push his wife up the stairs. “Just go back to bed, okay?”
George’s wife ducked around him, walking towards Harry. “You need my help with what?”
“Don’t you dare–” George started to say.
“We need your divination skills,” Ron explained, shooting his brother an apologetic look. Judging by George’s barely concealed rage, Ron wasn’t forgiven. There was no indication Y/N seemed scared by their request. Her eyes just darted between the three friends, waiting for elaboration.
Harry glanced at his friends before facing Y/N. “The mission that Dumbledore gave us…to complete it, there’s an object we have to find.” Behind Harry, Ron scratched his neck, clearly feeling awkward.
“What’s the object?” Y/N asked. “Why do you need it?”
“We can’t tell you why,” Harry replied. He expected George to blow up immediately, but George stayed silent, watching his wife. The whole room went quiet as Y/N seemed to digest Harry’s answer. Admittedly, Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn’t know Y/N that well, for she’d been in a different house and a different year than them, but she didn’t seem scared. Perhaps George had only been exaggerating Y/N’s fear of her own capability.
“I told them to get lost,” George finally said, coming to stand beside his wife. “They don’t know how–”
Y/N lightly jabbed her husband in the side with her elbow. “Of course I will help.”
Harry sagged with relief. “Thank you so much, Y/N, you have no idea–”
“Y/N,” George interrupted, his tone warning.
His wife looked over at him. “They need help. I can’t turn them away.”
George lifted a hand to cup her face. “I can.” His voice wasn’t loud or hostile like it’d been when he’d been talking to Harry. It was tender, enough that Harry, Ron, and Hermione all averted their eyes, feeling like they were intruding. “I love you,” George continued, “but your powers are dangerous, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Y/N covered his hand with hers. “Thanks to Galloglass, I’ve been doing so much better. Remember the last time I used his psychomanteum? It wasn’t nearly as bad as it used to be.”
“You passed out, and you were weak for months!” George protested.
“And I got back up on my feet, thanks to you. So if you help me, we can do it again.”
George stuck out his chin. “It’s not safe.”
“If they don’t succeed in their mission, You-Know-Who will kill us all.” She looked at the trio. “Right?”
“Yes,” Hermione said firmly.
“See?” Y/N addressed George again. “This is the right thing to do.”
“The only way we even have a chance of getting any useful information is if we use the psychomanteum again, and that place is crawling with Death Eaters looking for muggleborns.”
“So we’ll be careful and quick,” Y/N said soothingly. “We’ll be in and out, and You-Know-Who will never know we were even there.”
George’s eyebrows lowered at the mention of the Death Eaters’ leader. “But if the Death Eaters catch you while you’re using your catoptromancy, who knows what You-Know-Who would do? He’d turn you into a weapon, and I can guarantee that he will not care about your sanity!”
“If You-Know-Who succeeds, it’s only a matter of time before they find me anyways.”
“It’s not safe,” George said stubbornly. “Galloglass said if you strain yourself too much, you could fracture your mind.”
“So then you can be the one to pull me back if I start to go too far. You can be my voice of reason.” She grabbed his hand, a wry smile on her face. “It’s high time you took a turn being the voice of reason in this relationship anyways.”
George stayed silent, causing everyone in the room to anxiously hold their breath, including Y/N. Then, George exhaled harshly. “If I were to agree to this, you’d listen to me, right? If I told you that you were straining yourself too hard or that it’d become too dangerous, you’d take my words into consideration?”
Y/N nodded.
“Okay,” George said reluctantly. “But I’m there every step of the way.”
Y/N smiled up at him. “I would want nothing less.”
“Alright.” George stepped away from his wife, still clutching her hand as he faced Harry again. “You three ready for a field trip?”
-
None of the young witches and wizards had ever been to Diagon Alley before the sun rose, and it wasn’t an experience any of them wanted to have again. Most of the shops were closed down—due to the fear that was sweeping through the magical community like a plague—but even the ones that were still open didn’t look a fraction as jolly as Diagon Alley used to be.
You-Know-Who’s authoritative grip on the magical community was nearly complete.
Y/N and George skittered down the cobblestone road, looking over their shoulders often, as if they’d forgotten Harry, Ron, and Hermione were following under the invisibility cloak and were expecting to see them. George kept surveying their surroundings, his hand tightly gripping the wand in his pocket, ready to spring into action if danger dared to show its face.
Thankfully, there were very few other witches and wizards loitering on the street, and they all seemed to have secrets of their own.
The group had almost reached their destination when George slowed. Y/N slowed with him, much to the confusion of the trio underneath the cloak…until they realized what shop they’d stopped in front of.
Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.
The previously colorful and welcoming shop was completely closed down, with wooden boards nailed over the doors and windows.
George felt his wife squeeze his hand.
“You and Fred will open it back up,” she said softly.
“Yeah,” George said, but he didn’t look hopeful or even convinced. He felt an invisible hand squeeze his shoulder, and despite the fact that George didn’t know whose hand it was, he felt comforted enough to keep walking.
Y/N led the group to a shop three doors down from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, a shop that the trio could’ve sworn they’d never seen before.
Janus Galloglass, the words on the sign read. Scrying mirrors, enchanted mirrors, and haunted mirrors sold here!
Y/N rested a hand on the doorknob, and there was an audible click as the door unlocked. “I’m here so often, the door’s enchanted to let me in,” she murmured. “Now whatever you do,” she warned as she pushed the door open, “don’t look at your reflections. My knowledge is rusty when it comes to mirror magic, and I’d rather not have to fight any of the spirits or spells in these mirrors.”
With those chilling words, everyone followed her inside, dutifully keeping their eyes down, even if the shop was so dark, they most likely wouldn’t have been able to see anything anyways.
As soon as the door behind them was closed, Harry threw the cloak off, revealing himself, Ron, and Hermione.
“Lumos,” Y/N muttered, the tip of her redwood wand igniting to show the way forward through the cramped shop.
If any member of the group had looked up from the worn wooden planks of the floor, they would’ve seen the largest mirror any of them had ever seen just beside the door. The whole Order of the Phoenix could’ve fit in front of that mirror with room to spare. They also would’ve seen the shelves in the middle of the shop holding every kind of mirror imaginable. Some were handheld, some propped up on their own, some were exceptionally plain, some had detailed frames that looked ancient and expensive.
But all had danger lurking inside.
“I hate this place,” George muttered as Y/N led the group through the shop.
Y/N had to agree. Even if she had grown less afraid around mirrors, she still couldn’t squash the unease that dogged her every step.
“Why are we here?” Harry asked, as they weaved their way around the shelves.
“Oh, why are we in this creepy shop at four in the morning instead of sound asleep in our safe beds?” George asked. “Because someone decided–”
Y/N elbowed her husband again. “There’s a psychomanteum in the basement that Galloclass lets me use.”
Ron glanced over at Hermione. “What is a ‘psychomanteum’?”
“It’s a dark room catoptromancers go to use their powers,” Hermione explained. “The room is set up to help keep the catoptromancer safe while they attempt to see the future, including an enchanted mirror.”
“Mirrors,” Y/N corrected as she started leading them down a staircase. The trio exchanged looks, but George followed her with no hesitation.
A stark contrast to the room above, the psychomanteum was bare. The black walls seemed to move slightly, as if they were incapable of being solid, and every now and then, there seemed to be something moving just on the other side of the watery barriers.
“Is this room safe?” Ron asked, eyeing the walls.
George’s grim expression was answer enough.
“Catoptromancy always has risks,” Y/N explained. “But here is a safer place to do it than anywhere else.”
That wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, and now the trio understood why Y/N didn’t have a psychomanteum in her own home.
Harry opened his mouth, intending to ask where the mirrors were when he saw, at the end of the room, three plain, full-length mirrors stood side-by-side. The one in the center stood parallel to the wall behind it, while the others were at an angle, like the covers of an open book.
“It’s okay to look at these reflections,” Y/N explained as she lit a few candles the others hadn’t noticed, “but stay back. The catoptromancy won’t work if the magical radius is interrupted.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione shrank back, hovering uncertainly at the foot of the stairs. George, however, stood in the middle of the room, closely monitoring his wife’s every move as she approached the mirrors, pulling on her fingers as if she were counting them.
They all could tell she was nervous now.
She stopped just in front of the center mirror, and, thanks to the angle of the side mirrors, she had many reflections, all chewing anxiously on their lips. “We’ll need silencing charms in this room if we don’t want Death Eater company.”
“I got it,” Hermione said, quickly pulling out her wand.
“What else can we do?” George asked as Hermione started muttering spells at the bottom of the stairs.
Y/N squared her shoulders. “Someone should be ready to cast the Shield Charm, because sometimes things can come out.”
“Come out?” Ron squeaked, and his brother shot him a look. Ron cleared his throat. “I mean, I’ll do that.”
Harry stepped forward. “What can I do?”
“When we’re ready, you’ll need to describe what it is that you want to know.” Harry nodded tersely. Y/N nodded back. “George?” she asked, her voice shaking a little.
“I’m here,” he said immediately, taking a step forward, despite her warning. “How can I help?”
Her eyes found his in the reflection. “You’re in charge. You’re the one to talk me down when I’m in my stupor.” Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn’t know what that could possibly mean, but George nodded grimly.
The trio waited with bated breath, eager for Y/N to begin.
But she just stood there, fidgeting.
“Hey,” George said, a playful smirk on his face. “If you faced down Snape during your N.E.W.T.s and walked away with an ‘Outstanding’ in potions, you can do this in your sleep.”
Y/N snorted, and George seemed to relax slightly at the sound. “You’re right.” She rubbed her hands together, like she was trying to generate warmth. “Okay.” After shaking out her arms, Y/N shut her eyes, breathing in and out.
When nothing seemed to happen, Harry looked at Ron—who shrugged—and then Hermione—who just held up her hands in an I-don’t-even-know gesture. She’d always hated divination anyways.
As Harry debated asking George what came next, the sound of Y/N’s breath started to carry, creating a cascade of echoes through the chamber. The whoosh of her lungs became so loud, Harry felt as though he were actually inside of her body, hearing the air go in and out.
Then, with each breath, the room seemingly dropped a few degrees, and the very building shuddered around them. Harry glanced at his friends, seeing his concern matched in their expressions. Then he looked at George and saw twice as much worry in his face.
When Y/N opened her eyes again, Hermione let out a little gasp, for Y/N’s eyes were completely clouded over, looking quite like crystal balls with milky white smoke inside.
George nudged Harry, who cleared his throat. “Right, Y/N, we need to find a cup.” Y/N didn’t blink or move, and George gestured for Harry to keep going. “It used to belong to Helga Hufflepuff, and it’s the artifact for the Hufflepuff house.”
Y/N’s eyes stayed fixed on some distant point of interest, but her breathing quickened.
“Something’s happening,” Ron whispered, and he was right.
The three mirrors no longer reflected the room’s occupants. Instead, a milky white ink matching the clouds in Y/N’s eyes started to swirl in the mirrors.
George grabbed Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, keep going, keep describing the cup.”
“It’s a golden goblet with two handles, and it has the badger on the side.” As the words left Harry’s mouth, the cup appeared in the center mirror, directly in front of Y/N. “That’s it!” Harry cried. “Where is it?”
The cup grew smaller and smaller.
“Why’s it getting farther away?” Hermione asked, sounding petrified.
“Just give her a second.” George licked his lips. “She just needs time.”
George was right, for as the cup got further away, the background started to form, spanning across all three mirrors. The cup rested on a shelf in a dark room, surrounded by other precious objects of gold and silver.
“There’s other things there,” said Harry, stating the obvious. “But where’s there?”
The picture continued to grow smaller, as if someone was holding a camera and stepping away. The more the location came into view, the more precious pieces appeared. Beside a neat stack of gold bars lay piles of galleons, sickles and knuts, and there were many antiques that no one had names for.
“It’s a whole room of treasure,” Hermione breathed, and her reverence was justified. One-sixteenth of this collection would be enough to set anyone up for life.
“Maybe it’s a hoard?” Ron suggested, shifting his weight.
Y/N’s shoulders started rising and falling as her breathing grew more ragged. George turned to Harry. “We’ll need to stop soon, she’s reaching the end of her rope.”
“But we’re so close!” Harry objected. “We have to keep going!”
George’s head turned back towards the mirrors. The image continued to zoom out, but it was slowing down as Y/N’s breathing grew more labored.
“She can’t take much more!” George snapped.
“We need more,” Harry demanded. George stepped towards Harry, looking ready to hit him, when Ron slid in between them, holding them both at bay.
“Guys, look!” Hermione shouted, and everyone looked at the mirror just as the view came through the doorway, and the door shut, as if by some invisible force.
Harry recognized it immediately. “It’s a vault!” he said excitedly, turning to his friends. “The cup is in a vault in Gringotts!” He watched the mirrors eagerly. That eagerness started to fade, however, when Harry saw his own form materialize in the center mirror, covered in dirt and looking ragged.
“Harry, it’s time to stop,” George said, but Harry didn’t seem to hear him.
“Y/N, we need to see the number of the vault, show us the numbers!”
“Stop it,” George hissed, grabbing Harry’s shoulder.
But one by one, the numbers on the vault started to sharpen and come into focus.
“Seven!” Ron said. “Two!”
Suddenly, the zooming out sped up, the perspective tilting.
“Did anyone see what the last number was?” Harry cried, but George was far beyond the point of caring.
“Y/N, stop!” George cried, and Y/N stumbled, as if some unseen force had pushed her. George tried to run towards her, but an invisible barrier stopped him. “Y/N!” George shouted, pounding on the barrier. “Y/N!”
“What’s happening?” Ron asked, looking horrified.
“Her catoptromancy’s in control now!” George shouted. “It’s keeping me away so the job can be finished!”
The picture in the mirror continued to spiral, quicker and quicker, somewhat reminiscent of a muggle rollercoaster.
“Y/N, breathe, it’s okay, remember you’re in control!” George yelled.
The image started to settle a bit, but not on a sight any of them wanted to see.
“It’s a dragon!” Harry exclaimed.
In a large underground chamber stood a large, white dragon. Chains wrapped around its neck, and streaks of blood ran down the scales directly underneath the restraints. As if the dragon had heard Harry, it turned towards the mirror and opened its mouth, the temperature in the room spiking.
“Ron!” George bellowed, just before flames started to spew from the dragon’s mouth.
“Aguamenti!” A burst of water flew from the tip of Ron’s wand. The invisible barrier seemed to be gone as the water drenched everything.
A great amount of steam burst through the room, and the trio instinctually covered their faces.
George, however, ran forwards, straight toward his wife, who was already crumpling. He slid, just barely catching Y/N before she collided with the ground. “Y/N?” he asked, shaking her slightly, but her cloudy eyes were unblinking.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at the mirrors. The dragon had gone, and the surface of the mirrors had returned to their previous smoky appearance, but a few shades darker.
“Y/N!” George shouted, gently laying her down on the floor, disregarding the puddles of water from Ron as he crouched over her. “Y/N, it’s George, are you okay?”
YN didn’t stir.
“You did so well, “ George said, his voice cracking as he lifted his hand to gently shut her eyes. “You got exactly what they needed, but it’s time to wake up now.”
Covering her mouth with her hand, Hermione reached out for Ron, who wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder.
George tapped the side of her face. “Honey, it’s time to wake up, okay?”
All Harry could do was stare as Y/N’s husband stroked her hair. “She’s not breathing,” Harry said dumbly. “Why isn’t she breathing?”
George kept talking, as if he hadn’t heard him. “We’ll go home, and I’ll make you blueberry pancakes, how does that sound? All you have to do is open your eyes, come on baby, open those beautiful eyes for me.”
Y/N’s eyes snapped open, but there was no sign of her irises or pupils. Her eyes were completely clouded over, but unlike before, these clouds were growing darker and darker. “No, no, honey, you need to come back.” George’s voice steadily rose in volume as his wife remained unresponsive. “You don’t get to leave me this way!”
Hermione pressed her face into Ron’s chest, her shoulders shaking. Tears streaked down Ron’s face as he watched his brother try to revive his wife.
“Wake up!” George’s voice was shrill. “This is not the end, you hear me? Wake up!”
Harry stepped forward, putting his hand on George’s shoulder, but George twisted away from him. He lifted his wife’s head, resting it in his lap. “C’mon, Y/N, show me those beautiful eyes.” A tear splashed onto Y/N’s cheek, and George swiped at his eyes. “I love you so much, Y/N, I do, so you can’t do this, you hear me?”
There was no acknowledgement, and the only movement in the entire room was from the jet black clouds in the mirror.
George’s head jerked up with a savage urgency, and the trio shrank away from him, but he wasn’t looking at them. “The mirrors,” he said to himself, like he was in a trance. Then, all at once, George surged to his feet, running towards the dark smoke.
“What are you–” Ron started to ask.
George’s fist collided with the mirror on the right, and the resulting harsh shattering sound made the trio wince and cover their ears. The fracture ran the length of the mirror, the cracks radiating out like a spider web. As George pulled his fist back to smash the next mirror, his raw knuckles caught the light.
He didn’t seem to care about that, already ramming his hand into the center mirror. This time, a pained groan escaped from George’s lips as his skin split open, but he turned to the final mirror, determination in his drawn face as he delivered the last blow.
Smash!
As the ruptures appeared in the third mirror, a sharp inhale sounded from behind George. George spun around, fist still where he’d punched the mirror, just in time to see Y/N’s eyes flutter open, her irises back to their normal color.
Harry and Hermione sighed with relief, and Ron let out a: “Oh, thank Merlin.”
George merely fell to his knees and pulled Y/N’s head into his lap again. “What happened?” she rasped as she blinked up at her husband. “Where am I?”
“You’re okay,” George told her wetly, wiping his own tears off her face. “You used your catoptromancy to help my brother, but you’re good now.”
“Did it work?” Y/N mumbled, her eyelids sagging.
George lifted his head to look at the trio. “Did you get what you needed?”
Harry nodded, as if he didn’t trust his voice.
George looked back to his wife. “Yes, it worked, you did such a good job, I’m so proud of you.”
“You’re proud?” she managed to say.
Her husband choked back a sob. “So, so proud.”
Y/N’s eyes fell closed, but a soft smile appeared on her face.
“George,” Ron said quietly, and George reluctantly looked up at his brother. “Look.”
George followed Ron’s gaze to the shattered mirrors.
They were once again reflecting like normal mirrors, but from every crack oozed a strange black liquid. It dripped down, streaking the broken mirrors and mixing with George’s blood. The group had never seen anything like it.
“Talk about seven years of bad luck,” George said with a shaky grin, but no one laughed.
-
When the group returned to George and Y/N’s house, George gently laid his wife on the couch. “You relax here, and I’ll go make some breakfast, okay?”
Y/N hummed, her eyes shutting as soon as her head fell on the pillow.
George watched her, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
He remembered the day they’d gotten this couch. They’d decided on the style, but they couldn’t decide on the color. George hadn’t wanted anything too light, because then it would get dirty too easily. On the flip side, Y/N hadn’t wanted anything too dark. We have too much gloominess in our lives already, she’d told him, before caving and letting him get the dark gray couch.
Looking at her pallid face now, he knew in typical wifely fashion, she was always right.
Hermione and Harry stayed beside the couch, uneasily watching Y/N, but Ron followed George to the kitchen. Once George was out of sight of the living room, he gripped the counter, letting his head hang as he released a slow, tense breath.
“Are you okay?” Ron asked, quietly enough that his friends wouldn’t hear.
“What do you think?” George replied.
Ron wisely kept his mouth shut, merely watching his brother struggle to collect his composure.
“I wish I could say I’ll never let her do that again,” George said finally, “but I know that if you three showed up tomorrow asking for help, she’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“I’m sorry,” was Ron’s reply, but it sounded as if he had no idea what he was apologizing for.
George let out a sound halfway between amusement and disbelief. “If this was anybody’s fault, you’d bet I’d be hexing some eyebrows a neon pink right now.”
Ron shook his head, but couldn’t help his laugh. “George, I’m serious.”
His older brother looked at him. “You’re right. If I did that, Y/N would just shave off mine while I slept as payback.”
Ron knew George was trying to deflect using his most powerful weapon: his humor. Ron wanted to keep pressing his brother for some authenticity, but unfortunately, he knew if he were in this situation, he’d be handling it with far less grace than his older brother.
If it were Hermione, Ron would be throwing punches.
With great effort, George started getting out the materials for pancakes. “Are the three of you staying for breakfast?”
“No,” Hermione said from behind Ron, who turned to see her standing beside Harry in the entryway of the kitchen. “We should probably go.”
George nodded as he poured a cup of flour into the bowl. “You have a cup to find.”
Nobody said anything. George measured three teaspoons of baking powder and dropped them into the bowl.
“George,” Harry said, “if I’d known–”
“Shhhh.” The redhead didn’t look up from his mixing bowl, but his voice was reassuring. “You couldn’t have known, and Y/N wouldn’t want you beating yourself up over it.”
“But she could’ve died,” Harry burst out. “If you hadn’t been there or-or if I’d pushed any harder, who knows what could’ve happened?!”
George dusted his hands on his pants as he walked over to Harry. Harry tensed, as if he were preparing to take a punch, but George just wrapped his arms around him. Judging by the shocked look on Harry’s face, a hug was the last thing he expected. It took a moment before Harry hugged him back.
George pulled away, earnesty all over his face. “She made the decision. Even if–” George’s voice faltered. “Even if it had ended in the worst possible way, she still would’ve gladly done it to help you.”
Harry looked down at the floor, guilt written all over his face.
“Listen to me. She was right. If I were in her shoes and you told me I could’ve done something to help take down You-Know-Who, I would’ve done whatever I could to help you guys.” Hermione and Ron rested their hands on Harry’s back as George smiled at him. “You’re our best hope, Harry. Whatever we can do to keep the hope alive, we will.”
Harry nodded solemnly. “Will you…will you tell her ‘thank you’ when she wakes up? She was a huge help.” Ron and Hermione nodded vehemently.
George grinned. “I’m not sure she’ll believe it, but I most certainly will tell her.” His expression turned stern. “I will also tell her that you won’t be asking her to use her catoptromancy again any time soon.”
Harry winced and nodded. George walked them to the front door. He gave Hermione a side-hug and shook Harry’s hand. Then, he turned to his little brother with a smile.
Ron gave his brother a bear hug. “Stay alive, okay?”
“Same goes for you,” George replied. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
A mischievous smile appeared on Ron’s face. “So I have free reign to dye some eyebrows neon pink?”
George snorted. “Okay, fine, don’t do anything Percy wouldn’t do.” Ron smiled at his brother. “I’ll tell Mum and Dad I saw you and that you’re okay.”
Ron’s smile turned wistful, but Hermione took his hand, which seemed to steady him. The three of them walked down the path of the house, reaching the end of the lawn and waving before Disapparating.
George stood watching the place they’d been. He knew his mother would shout at him and quite possibly box his ears for seeing Ron and letting Ron go. But George also knew that whatever they were doing would be crucial before the end. Still, his heart was heavy as he looked to the sky, the rising sun turning the clouds vibrant oranges and pinks.
Slowly, he shut the door and returned to making pancakes.
George could’ve waved the wand safely stowed in his pocket and had the pancakes making themselves, but he wanted to linger in the kitchen.
For every bit he loved Y/N, it was hard to see his strong, self-sufficient wife so pale, so weak. George’d never been good at watching his loved ones be in pain, especially when there was nothing to be done about it except watch.
Pancakes were easy, and he knew that once he was done, he’d be drowning in his own helplessness again.
But when the fresh blueberry pancakes lay steaming on a plate, he knew it was time to go check on Y/N.
Her eyes were already open when he tentatively returned to the living room, and his stomach sank when he saw how still she lay. “Hey,” he said gently, kneeling beside the couch. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” she said, in a voice far too frail for that statement to be true.
“Let’s get some food in you, yeah?” Y/N nodded, and she tried to sit up. “Don’t you dare get up,” George barked. “I’ll bring it to you.” Y/N didn’t protest, and George brought her a plate drowning in syrup, just the way she liked her pancakes.
“Just one?” Y/N said with a frown, causing George to chuckle.
“If or when you finish it, I’ll bring you another.” He placed the fork in her hand, closing her fingers around it.
Y/N clumsily cut a piece of the pancake, the fork shaking as she raised the bite of breakfast to her mouth. Once her lips closed around the bite of food, her hand fell to her side, still clutching the fork.
Wordlessly, George took the fork from her hand and cut the next bite. He fed her, slowly, allowing her all the time she needed to chew and swallow. Somehow, chewing and swallowing had never seemed so difficult—or so precious—before.
“I must say,” George said with a smile, “I’m suddenly in love with the sounds of you eating. Why don't you try chewing with your mouth open and see if that fixes it?"
Y/N rolled her eyes, but the soft smile on her face made him feel like he’d won a great big prize. The more she ate, he noticed with great satisfaction, the more the color returned to her face. When the plate was empty, Y/N sat back in her place against the arm of the couch, looking much better, much more alert.
“Are you hungry for more?” George asked. Y/N shook her head. “Are you sleepy?” She shook her head again. The restlessness reared its ugly head. “Are there some socks you need ironed or perhaps some carpet that needs dusting?”
She laughed quietly, looking the very picture of contentment. “No, but you can hold me.”
George didn’t hesitate. He set the plate down on their coffee table and carefully laid in between the back of the couch and Y/N, wrapping his arms around her. She nestled into his arms and rested her head on his chest, a soft smile on her face.
For a while, they were both silent. George watched the sunlight from the nearby window creep across the carpet. It should’ve been relaxing, just the two of them sitting here, awake, but not speaking.
Unfortunately, George’s thoughts kept returning to the ordeal his wife had just endured.
The woman in his arms, the love of his life, had almost died today. He’d almost lost this beautiful creature to the fearsome power lurking within that powerful mind of hers. Despite the fact that he did everything he could, it almost hadn’t been enough to bring her back.
The thought made him shudder and pull her closer to him.
“I’m not looking forward to reimbursing Galloglass for those mirrors,” he commented.
Instead of laughing, Y/N twisted to face him, her hand catching his and bringing it up to her eyes to inspect the fresh damage to his knuckles. “Does this hurt?” she asked him, her voice small.
“Only about as much as a bite from a garden gnome,” George lied, because, really, they didn’t hurt, not at any level of pain worth mentioning.
Y/N began running a finger down his cheek, tracing the path of his earlier tears. “Are you okay?”
George felt trapped, trying to find some way around the question. “I should be asking you that,” he said.
“You already have, so now it’s my turn.”
Damn his wife for knowing him so well.
She rested a hand on his jaw, soothingly running her thumb across his cheek. “Are you okay?” she repeated.
With a shuddering breath, George buried his face into her neck. “No,” he replied, his voice muffled.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, one of her arms winding around his waist.
“Can you just give me a second?” Y/N’s eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “I just need us to stay like this,” George clarified, his grip on her tightening. “Just for a little while.”
Y/N lifted a hand, starting to run her hands through his hair. “Okay.” She kissed his cheek. “Okay, we’ll just stay like this.”
Neither of them said anything for a while, and slowly, George felt the knots in his stomach loosen. Nothing healed him so well as proximity to his wife.
But he felt himself getting antsy, his brain begging for some humor to relieve the emotional charge in the room. “I’m getting rid of this couch,” he finally said. “You’re right, it’s too depressing.” He didn’t need to tell her that it wasn’t due to the color, but due to this whole night.
He waited for an I-told-you-so, but when Y/N didn’t answer, he looked down to see her eyes shut and her breathing even.
He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the smell of her hair. “You get to pick the next couch,” he promised her. “Stick with me, and I’ll get you all the couches in the world.”
-
If you enjoyed this, please reblog and read my other George Weasley fanfic called Please Don't Say You Love Me!
Summary: Y/N is a rare creature, something that’s thought to be extinct. She’s hated by all Normies, and maybe even some Outcasts, but one Outcast in particular thinks differently of her.
Warnings: a bit of angst, some fluff, probably some cursing,
Word Count: 2.9k+
Characters/Pairing: Faye!Reader x Xavier Thorpe, Mentions of Principal Weems, mentions of Tyler
Prompt: simply that Y/N feels like the biggest Outsider amongst Outsider, but Xavier is there to prove her wrong and let her know that she’s just a one of a kind.
A/N: Reader is similar to Maleficent, but without the horns. :) Has magic and those giant wings that I freaking adore
New Masterlist| Color Prompts| Prompt List| buy me a coffee!!
Y/N had been found on the outskirts of the forests in Europe before she was sent to Nevermore. Principal Weems was the one who originally found her anyways, so she thought it was her duty to take care of her and give her shelter, not just because she was an Outsider who was hated by half of humanity, but because she was one of the rarest creatures she had ever laid her eyes upon.
That was when Y/N was 12, until she was brought to Nevermore she had spent her time as a child hiding in dense forest areas that no one could possibly get to, secret caves that held her own hideaways far from the Normies of the world. When she was brought to the school for Outcasts, she felt like a freak. Everyone at the school was pretty, popular, they all looked semi-normal, but not Y/N.
No, Y/N had to have fangs, longer and sharper than any vampire’s, naturally long nails that should have counted as talons, and ginormous black wings that shrouded her body. Y/N was, in her eyes, a human bird.
From the moment she stepped foot onto campus all eyes were on her. At that young of an age she was scared, she scared herself and everyone else, but as she grew up she turned that frightened little girl into a power to be reckoned with. As everyone at school watched her grow into this confident young lady, they also became less scared of her. She had her times where she’d lose her temper and lash out, her magic uncontrollable as she’d stomp away and wreck everything in her path, but they knew she was just like them in that sense. Unable to control how they felt because there was not a single person in the world that understood what it was like to be an Outcast.
By the time Y/N was 16 she had learned that it was just better for her to stay on campus at all times than to go into town and try to be normal with everyone else. The Normies may be able to hide their hatred for the Outcasts at least somewhat decently with the others, but with Y/N she could always see the look of disgust on their faces from a mile away. Every time she’d try to go into town with a few people from school she was always picked on, bullied, and it wasn’t even just the Normies who did it. She’d be invited out as a joke several times, it wasn’t until the third time she was made fun of and abandoned in town that she realized no one would ever truly except her for what she was.
Outreach day was approaching and Y/N was dreading going, but Principal Weems was making Y/N volunteer this year by having her paint a mural of Nevermore and the town of Jericho together in harmony. The thought made Y/N gag. Why would she want to celebrate such a stupid day that obviously had no meaning to anyone in the long run?
If this wasn’t mandatory then Y/N wouldn’t be going and setting herself up for embarrassment. Rude comments ran wild in her head as she mocked what some people in town were going to say as she showed up to celebration.
She packed up her painting materials in a duffel bag and then headed to the Quad, where all the other students would be getting their assignments. When she walked into the Quad everyone had already begun hoarding together in their cliques, so Y/N just stood next to the wall and waited till they were all dismissed. One thing about having these giant wings was that she couldn’t ride on the bus with everyone else, instead she was going to have to fly herself down the town.
Y/N’s eyes scanned the crowd of students, watching as they opened their assignment letters. Some students were happy but others seemed upset about what they got. One of those people was Xavier, someone that Y/N admired from a far but would never confront face-to-face. He must’ve been upset about what he got, the same going for his friend Ajax.
Feeling as though she had intruded on people’s private conversations, Y/N picked up her duffel bag and headed towards the front of the school. Little did she know that as soon as she walked away from the bustling students who were rushing towards the busses, Xavier had looked up from his assignment card and watched as the black winged beauty turned away and walked away.
Xavier didn’t see Y/N again until everyone was in the town square to listen to Principal Weems and Mayor Walker go on about how important the day was and how they created a new statue in honor of the town embracing the Outcasts.
It was complete bullshit and everyone knew it. Y/N must’ve gotten bored listening to their speech, because once they were all dismissed to go to their jobs for the day, the Faye was no where in sight. Xavier sighed as he trudged over to the Weathervane for his assignment. Working in the same café as Tyler, his tormenter, was not how he wanted to spend the day.
When he walked into the café his eyes landed directly on the winged beauty. She stood in the corner awkwardly looking down at her phone as she waited for her order name to be called. Once she heard her name called out she went to grab her drink quickly and bolt from the small building. Y/N didn’t even look up as she brushed past Xavier and out into the open.
The taller boy watched as she walked with her head low, going to the designated area for the portrait she was to draw. It was the same wall that Xavier had painted on last year, on this exact day. The thought of her putting all this effort into a portrait and then possibly having it destroyed just like he had done to him, angered him more than it should have. Taking in a deep breathe he walked over to Tyler, who also didn’t looked too amused that he was in this situation as well.
An hour, maybe two at most had gone by before he saw what Y/N’s painting looked like. It was amazing, to say the least. The wall Y/N was using as a canvas was a mirror image of the town on that exact day. Both the town and it’s people joining together with the students of Nevermore in celebration of Outreach Day. The thing that pulled it all together? The heavily detailed painting of Joseph Crackstone in the center of the town. It was perfect for that day, and exactly what Principal Weems wanted out of the feather winged girl.
As Y/N stood a few feet away from her painting, admiring it and criticizing it, she could hear the words that the towns folk were saying.
“What a freak.” Some mumbled.
“Who let the little birdy out of her cage?” Some would tease menacingly.
“If there were a contest for being the biggest freak of all the freaks, she’d for sure win.”
One would think that on a day like today, these small minded people would put their snide comments to the side and at least pretend to be decent, but no, in fact they were even worse. Usually she could handle those harsh words, but for some reason today was just the day for her to snap.
Bawling her fists she began to pack up her painting supplies, anger consuming her as she thought about all the horrible curses and spells she could use on these lesser people. Y/N was so overwhelmed with anger that she began to shake which caused her to drop some spay paint.
Before she could reach over and grab some asshole had to kick it so hard that the can busted open, spraying Y/N and ruining the bottom half of her painting. With tears blurring her vision and anger blurring her judgment, she stood up quickly, her hands glowing a bright green as she threw the Normie against the wall opposite of her. She growled lowly, her eyes glowing the same green as she began to close off the person’s airway with her magic. If it weren’t Xavier to snap her out of her trance, Y/N for sure would have murdered the man.
Y/N’s eyes stopped glowing, along with her hands, her gaze moving from the man she was choking to Xavier who was standing in front of her with a very concerned look. For a split second Y/N’s eyes looked at the man, her growl scary enough to send him hurling around the corner and down the sidewalk.
Without a word she took a step away from Xavier and turned back to her supplies. She through the busted can into her bag, zipped it up, and then tried to walk away. As she was a few steps away from the tall blonde, he reached out and gently grabbed her wrist. Y/N stopped and turned to look at the boy, confusion grazing across her face.
“What? You gonna make fun of me too?” Y/N’s words were harsh, but Xavier knew that she was still angry.
Letting go of her wrist he lets out a soft sigh, “I was going to ask if you were okay.” He said looking at her and watching her expressions.
Y/N looked taken back at his question, as if no one had ever asked her that before. “I’m fine,” Y/N huffed. She was clearly lying, but why on Earth would she open up to someone she barely knew, so easily? Xavier’s look on his face was basically saying, ‘really?’ He knew she was lying and was hoping she would just talk to him a little bit, even if this was their first time really talking.
Letting out a huff of frustration, Y/N let her walls fall down as she looked away from the boy. “Fine, no, I’m not okay. I’m pissed.” She paused and waited for a response but only got a nod telling her to continue. “This is all just so stupid, it bullshit. No one cares about today, they just care about the money they get from this stupid day.” Y/N rolled her eyes as she looked up at Xavier. “No one actually cares, they never will. We will always be the freaks and outcasts to them, they will never see us as equals.”
Xavier could practically see the steam rolling off her skin, seeing how angry she still was. He knew there was nothing he could say that would make her feel better, so instead he gently took her duffel bag from her and offered to take her to the Weathervane. It took a moment for Y/N to consider the offer, thinking that this was just going to be another joke, but once she realized that Xavier meant no harm she agreed and the two began the short walk to the coffee shop.
It was a good thing that the café was slow that day, or else Y/N and Xavier probably wouldn’t have been able to talk as much as they wanted to. The other great thing about it being slow was the fact that wasn’t a lot of people around to gawk at Y/N and make rude remarks about her looks. The only other person in the building was Tyler, but he could care less what the Nevermore students were doing, especially Xavier.
Xavier and Y/N sat at a booth close to the counter, both of them feeling the tension as they squeezed into their seats. Well, Y/N squeezed into her seat because of her wings, Xavier was fine.
It was quiet at first, the two just looking around and avoiding each other’s gaze for the first few minutes before Xavier decided to speak up.
“Your painting looks great, by the way.” He smiled softly, hoping that she’d realize he was here to talk to her and not belittle her. “The detail in it is amazing.”
Y/N was a bit taken back by the compliment. She wasn’t used to people saying nice things to her, let along talking to her at all. “Thanks, though I’d rather see that stupid statue burn than to paint it, thanks.” Anyone who was listening to their conversation would know that she was joking, she was being serious.
Xavier chuckled a bit and nodded in agreement, “Trust me, I know how you feel.”
Y/N snorted at his response. How could someone like him? Someone who looks normal, understand how she felt? The only odd thing about him was his father, and the face that he could make his artwork move or come to life. Xavier looked confused at Y/N’s slight harshness and watched as tried to lean back a bit in the booth, crossing her arms as she looked at the wall.
“Hate to break it to you, pretty boy, but you most definitely don’t know how I feel.” Her words were harsh, and completely true. While Xavier could have anything he wanted and grew up only being know as the son of a famous Outcast, he would never really know what it’s like to feel like Y/N. To be tormented for how he looked. It’s never a problem that he has ever had to deal with.
Silence filled the space between them once more, both of them unsure of what to say next. Xavier studied Y/N’s face, memorizing every curve, mark, and point there was. To him, someone she barely knew, he thought she was the most beautiful and unique person on this planet. Even though he didn’t really know her all that well, his heart wanted to know more so he could get closer to her and learn to understand her.
Y/N’s eyes unfortunately wandered over to the window where she could see the townsfolk pointing and gawking at her. The anger that had slowly started to subside started to come back stronger than before, her eyes starting to glow that vivid green color. Xavier’s eyes followed hers and once he noticed what, well who, she was staring at, he immediately when to calm her down. Without thinking or hesitation, his hands grabbed hers softly, like she was made of the finest porcelain and he didn’t want to break her.
“Don’t worry about them,” he said softly, his thumbs rubbing small circles into the backs of her hands. The action startled her at first, but then she found it calming. Her eyes stopped glowing, her heart went back to normal and she no longer felt like ripping out those peoples throats.
“Why do you care so much?” Y/N asked with a tilted head, “You don’t know me, so why do you care so much?” It was a genuine question she wanted the answer to, but Xavier wasn’t sure if he could really tell her why he cared.’
The boy gulped, trying to find a way to word his thoughts in a way that didn’t sound creepy or stalker like. There was a long pause before he said anything, it was when she went to pull her hands away from him that he sputtered out the truth. “I’ve always liked you, thought you were the most mesmerizing being to ever lay my eyes upon. I’ve watched you, since the moment I started going to Nevermore, I- I just didn’t know how to approach you. I was nervous.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, thinking he was joking and was put up to this as a joke. “You’re only saying that to say it, you don’t mean it.” Her eyes averted downwards towards her lap, trying desperately to focus on anything but the feeling of her hands still holding his. “No one thinks that of me, I’m a monster.”
Xavier’s gentle squeeze on her hands was enough to pull her Y/E/C eyes back up to his blue eyes. “I don’t think that.” The warry look on Y/N’s face was enough to tell him that she really had never been told that in her life, “I promise, if I truly didn’t think that, then I wouldn’t have said it in the first place.”
The shaky sigh that Y/N let out worried him. Had he gone too far? Did she find him repulsive now? Was this all too creepy?
“I don’t think you understand how much that means to me,” When their eyes met he finally saw the tears that brimmed her waterline. Carefully, he reached up and swiped away the stray tears that managed to slip down her flushed cheeks. The soft smile that Y/N let Xavier see was something he’d remember forever. He’s the only one who’s seen her cry, who’s seen her smile, who’s been so kind and genuine to her.
This was the beginning of something new, for the both of them. It would be rocky in the beginning for sure, but both teens could tell that they’d let out the best of each other in the long run.
Summary: Every Sorcerer Supreme has an anchor. Someone whose magic is compatible with theirs, ensures that he is additionally protected and prevents him from falling prey to evil forces.
You grew up in Kamar-Taj and studied the Mystic Arts there, but then you traveled the world looking for a more quiet life, a life away from magic and superheroes. When you return and meet the new Sorcerer Supreme, it soon becomes clear that you share a special connection.
Relationship: Doctor Strange x Magic!Reader
Tags: Slow Burn, Reader is a master of the Mystic Arts, spells and magic, this is a cute one, using of gifs, Stephen can be a dick, Loki is a friend, in Wong we trust, Angst, Fluff, all the stuff you love
Killua with an s/o Who Can Use Magic - Mini Headcanons
Other people who have done this too;
Killua x gn! reader - Magician - @spiders-angel
Killua with an s/o that has magic - @raysano
_____________
❥ When he first met you, he was convinced that there was nothing special about you.
❥ You had no nen aura (he checked) and you looked pretty weak.
❥ Watching you fight however was like a slap to the face because this weak looking person just blasted an ants head off.
❥ Was very curious and amazed when he watched you heal the wounds you’d gotten during the fight and he asked you to heal this too
❥ “Could you heal my wounds too, (Y/n)?”
❥ They weren’t even that bad he just wanted to know what it felt like.
❥ Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get into general relationship headcanons.
❥ He enjoys watching you use magic for mundane tasks like cooking or cleaning, just finds it really cool for some reason.
❥ He won’t leave you alone until he’s seen every spell you know like 10 times😭
❥ He also subtly brags about you to other hunters and his friends about you.
❥ “Yeah that’s cool but my s/o can use magic.”
❥ Likes it when you float him around, he thinks it’s cool and he likes doing tricks in the air (he banged his head on the ceiling once😭)
❥ Watches you like a hawk when you’re making potions and stuff like he finds the ingredients weird and all and he hates how they taste (He drank a potion for breathing underwater when you two went to the beach) but he still wants to see them be made.
❥ He once tried to cut Alluka’s hair for her and cut it wayyyy to short and he was so, so grateful when you grew it back before she could see. (He never tried to cut it for her again😭)
❥ Called you a witch once, got his ass handed to him and never did it again after that😭
❥ Likes buying you books that go along with whatever magic you like doing the most.
❥ Leorio, Gon and Kurapika literally hear so much about you whenever Killua hangs out with them that they’ve basically met you without meeting you😭
I told you before, don’t try to tickle me . Ler nat please
“I’ve told you before; don’t try to tickle me,” Nat deadpanned from across the room, an underlying scowl on her face.
“I just don’t believe that you’re not ticklish! You have to be ticklish somewhere,” You exclaimed as you flourished your hand, sending a whisp of air to the back of Nat’s neck.
Not a flinch.
“See? I told you,” She boasted. Nat evacuated her seat in the common room and made her way over to you. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
“B-But you’re human! I just don’t see how…”
Nat interrupted you with a groan. “What about you?”
For the slightest second, your eyes widened. “Uh, what?”
“Are you ticklish?”
“I-I mean… that’s not… I don’t…AAH!”
Yet another interruption—this time by a pinch to your side. “I’ll take that as a yes. Maybe this will teach you not to mess with me.”
Nat took to digging into your sides, this time with more precision. You squeaked and fell into thunderous laughter, your knees buckling underneath you.
Nat followed you to the ground, taking this opportunity to straddle your waist so you’d not be able to escape. Not that you actually wanted to. You did antagonize her after all.
“OHOKAY! YES, I’M TIHIHICKLISH!”
“Uh, yeah, I think we’re pretty clear on that,” She chuckled before she switched to fluttering her fingers at the crook of your neck.
You let out a giggly scream and instinctively shrugged your shoulders up.
“Looks like I don’t need magic to tickle you, huh?” Nat smirked.
“I-hi… I’ll gehehet you sohomeday!”
“Yeah, right.”
————————————————————————
did a magic!reader for this one to spice things up! i felt like all my drabbles were getting a bit repetitive. hope u like!!!
You having magic would make it incredibly hard for him to kidnap you
He would try to find ways to take your magic away
But to his disappointment he couldn't find a way
So he had to actually not kidnap you🙄
God it's such and inconvenience 🙄
Lmao
Anyways
If some how he managed to take your magic it would be bad for you but good for him
But honestly Y/n just use your magic and break the 4th wall when you smell something fishy
But all in all he would try to find a way to take away your magic
{Thank you @kayssweetdreams for requesting! I'm sorry it's short I couldnt think of much rn, as you all know posts are kind of slow rn. Hearts and re-blogs are welcome along with comments and requests! ❤ and this isn't to this requested at all but I do request that people read my rules!! ❤ they are at the top of my master list. It will tell you the fandoms I do and what I will do, you can still ask or request characters that aren't on there and from a fandom that is not listed; unless I do not know that fandom or character very well. }
