#I imagine that the last letters are all squeezed in there really really small - getting even smaller and smaller and closer together
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speedcomic · 11 days ago
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I think about this cake a lot.
(Impulse #22)
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tender-rosiey · 5 months ago
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from me to you — gojo satoru x f!reader
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a/n: this takes place in chapter 268, soo sort of spoilers ahead? also long live gojo satoru; gojo leaves you a letter 🙏
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“y/n-sensei, there is a letter for you as well!”
that catches your attention, and you look up at the first years. you tilt your head slightly, and yuuji hands you an envelope.
you gently take it from him, and the first thing you notice is “wifey” written on it then the doodle of satoru with his blindfold on. you feel your throat tighten, and your hands shake slightly.
you let out a small breath then shakily open the letter.
hey, honey!!
it first reads.
I feel like there is still much I didn’t tell you in our last meeting, so here I, your beautiful and handsome husband, am writing them down.
you swallow lightly, and a small smile appears on your face as you imagine satoru saying that, then you continue to the next line.
first, I changed all your computer passwords to variations of “satoruisthebest” at one point. your confusion was so cute!!
you quirk an eyebrow at the admission, but when you rack your brain, you remember that one day when you couldn’t log into your computer.
what you vividly remember was satoru being sat beside you the whole time, and now that you think about it. he was smiling so widely the entire time, letting out small chuckles every now and then. oh, that sneaky man.
“satoru, I am telling you it’s broken!”
“sweetheart, we spent over 2000$ on that. if it broke, then we could easily sue the company,” he chuckled, arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer.
“2 year guaranteed top performance my ass!”
you smile at the memory. it was pretty satoru of him to do that. your eyes then move to continue reading.
second, there are times when I would tell megumi that you would be coming with me, then he would turn and leave me when he found out I was tricking him.
your eyes glance up at said boy who is sat across of you. he made it out alive, despite everything. he suffered so much, but he made it.
it makes you relieved, and you can imagine satoru being bloody proud of him and saying something along the lines of ‘you handed sukuna’s ass to him, very cool!’
no matter how much megumi had frowned and grimaced at satoru’s presence or antics. it rooted itself as something—safe and familiar.
you can’t count on your hands the times when you and satoru would visit the siblings, and nobody really said it, but these meetings did all of you a favor, a chance to kind of wind down. maybe act like death might actually not be looming tomorrow.
it feels like just yesterday when megumi would cling to you when he got really sad or nervous, after so much time spent getting comfortable with each other.
he grew up well, you think, eyes gliding to next.
third, I hid your uniform every two to three weeks, so you have to stay with me.
at that, your eyes widen a bit. satoru’s schedule was pretty packed, but he somehow managed to squeeze time for quality time between you two.
it tugged on your heartstrings, and you made sure he knew how much you appreciated it, not a single space on his face left without a kiss. however, finding out that he went out of his way to make you rest and stay.
satoru’s care really showed in his actions, and you feel like this is the biggest proof of it.
“satoru, have you seen my uniform?”
“nope! maybe, it is a sign to stay home today? you’ve been working so hard, wifey!”
you cupped his face, pulled him down to your height, and kisses his cheek, “you’ve been working harder, ‘toru. let me take off some of the load at least.”
“we could both stay!”
“you’re kidding, right?”
“I already told yaga; I miss you!”
you try to stop the reminiscing further and try to compose yourself before reading the rest.
fourth, I’m the one who kept adjusting the thermostat. I just wanted an excuse to cuddle.
a fond yet melancholy smile appears on your face. you kinda figured that one out. satoru’s favorite pastime was cuddling, so it’s no surprise that he would go out of his way to create the need for it even further.
add to that, once you went to get some green tea and saw him from the corner of your eye teleport to the thermostat, click something, then teleport back to bed.
you figured that the room being chilly that night was not an exception in the middle of july.
“babeeee, it’s so cold! let’s cuddle!”
“maybe the problem is with the thermostat?”
“I checked! I think cuddling is the best solution.”
you giggle as you recall the moment, one of many similar. your heart feels a bit lighter as you go through the letter. something satoru managed to always do even in person.
he would plaster sticky notes, get you trinkets, and even pull pranks on other just to see you smile. feeling more encouraged, you keep on reading the letter.
then you feel your chest constrict so tightly that you might just throw up.
fifth, I am really gonna fucking miss you.
you read the line over again, and you purse your lip in hopes of silencing any noise that may come out as you feel the lump in your throat return, even worse than before. your breathing starts getting more difficult.
your grip on the letter tightens, and you find yourself thinking back to the good times. memories of late nights spent in each other’s arms, thinking about everything and nothing at once.
hushed whispers of confessions and quiet giggles as you reminisced on your highschool days. tight hugs when recalling the sad moments and the departure of a certain someone.
“you know, y/n, I think we might just be made for each other,” he said one night. you hummed and looked him in the eyes.
“three am thoughts?”
“three am admissions,” he grins slightly, “I am made for you, and you’re made for me.”
you remember him pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, while you teased, “and what would you need little old me for, so much that I got made?”
he feigns thinking then closes his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder, “grounding me.”
I love you. I really do, but you should know that already, right?
your eyes drift down to the corner of the paper, and that is when you feel your tears start free-falling. there is drawn a chibi satoru besides a chibi you and between them is a heart.
the chibi satoru is giving yours a big smooch, while she laughs. you never thought that the day your jealousy burns would be because of drawings, and drawings of you and your own husband, nonetheless.
“but wow, gojo-sensei is shit at writing letters,” you hear nobara remark.
megumi responds with a small chuckle, “I am fine with mine.”
“what about you, y/n-sensei?—”
the trio becomes silent as you let out a sob. a watery smile makes its way up your face as you kiss the letter gently and murmur, “so shitty.”
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do not copy or plagiarize or I will tell @callmemirro
check out my buy me a coffee!
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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 3 months ago
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it was your writing that convinced me to finally start leaving comments in the tags on fics, congrats on 900!!!
imagining this as either playful, or scoffed brattily at ak jason...
"What're you gonna do? Kill me?"
~800 words. He's toxic in this, but I feel like I always write AK that way. Enjoy!
Jason Todd is your... something. It's hard to put a label on something that feels like it could slip away at one wrong move, one misplaced step.
You've tried to come to terms with who he is now, how that cell in Arkham changed him. But it's hard. It's really hard when he's become so volatile, when he treats everything you say and do like it's a trick.
You love him. Really. You always have. You still do. But he's so angry at you right now. All you did was leave his stupid base for a last-minute dinner with your friends.
Yeah, Gotham is dangerous. Yeah, you could have left a note. But you're an adult, and he's not in charge of you, no matter how much he thinks he is.
He's still in that ridiculous outfit, helmet lifted over his face as he rants and paces back and forth. He spits venom at you, tries to make you feel like you're wrong.
You don't think you're wrong. If anything, you're just as livid, fingers curling into fists at his words. He had no right to snatch you off the street on your way back. No right to lecture you and treat you like you've committed the crime of the century.
"You act like you're invincible," he snaps, eyes sharp and glaring, "Always running off on your own. I should– I should just–"
"You should just what," you hiss back, unable to bite down your words any longer. You cross your arms, defiant and unwilling to give him an inch, "What are you gonna do? Kill me?"
He stops in his track, and the air seems to grow cold. You almost waver, almost back down and scramble to get out apologies. But your fury feels righteous, and you egg him on through your wariness.
"Well," you goad, "Are you? Gonna get rid of me the same way you do all your other problems?"
He says your name, sounds out every letter in a slow, deep rumble of a warning, “Careful.”
It's a threat you immediately ignore. A small part of you knows he's dangerous, that there's blood on his hands, but you don't care enough to caution yourself. All he's done tonight is push you, and you want to push back.
Your lips curl into some semblance of a snarl, brushing off how stony his face has gone, “Bite me, Jason. I'm done. Done with trying to figure out what you even want from me any–”
Fingers close around your throat before you can get out another word. You choke on nothing as his hand flexes, reminding you exactly how much strength he carries.
“You are not done,” he tells you. It's a command, an order, and instruction you can't even consider disobeying. “We are not done. Be angry. Be upset. But don't, don't you dare end anything.”
All you can manage is a weak nod, eyes wide and dumbstruck as he stares you down with relentless determination. His thumb strokes the side of your neck, gaze expectant and waiting. When you don't manage to find your words, he finds them for you.
“Tell me we aren't done,” he murmurs, tone lower, but no less sharp and commanding. His grip doesn't waver, even when you reach up to grab his wrist and tug.
“We aren't done,” you echo weakly, desperate for him to let go. Even if he's not squeezing your throat, the threat is enough to make you light-headed. Your knees feel like they're going to give, and you can't seem to get your body to move.
He stares at you for another minute, then drops his hand from its place around your neck. You suck in a desperate breath of air, and his face doesn't even twitch.
“You should know by now, what I want,” he says, tone flat and void of any hints of how he's feeling.
You bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say. There's nothing to say. Your heart is pounding. You think you might be scared. And you really don't know what he wants from you. Not anymore.
He clenches his jaw. There's words on the tip of his tongue, you can tell. You can tell the same way he can tell that he's frightened you.
But he doesn't apologize, doesn't offer you any semblance of comfort. It's a silent standoff, almost a staring contest as your rub where his hand lingered only seconds ago.
He exhales shakily, breaking the moment, “Just– don't leave. It doesn't matter what you think of me or any of this. Doesn't matter if you hate me. It's too late for you to leave. You're a part of this now.”
“I don't hate you,” you breathe out, and it almost tastes like a lie. You're not sure if either of you believes it. But he steps closer, ignoring the way you stiffen.
He draws you into a tight hug, murmuring almost incoherently into the top of your head that you need to stay. That you're going to stay.
It's only then, only when he holds you so close that you're nearly suffocating, that you realize it was never really your choice. You're going to stay.
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spookwriter-xo · 3 months ago
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Coppélia
Chapter 1 - The Doll That Came To Life
Chapter Summary - Y/N performs her first show as the lead ballerina, little does she know she caught the eye of an admirer.
Series Masterlist
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It was no secret that the Grand Ballet Society was the best. Ever since I was a little girl I dreamed of being a part of it all, dreamed of performing in front of men and women who admired the art as much as I did. I couldn't believe it when I was offered a position at 17.
My parents hated the idea and forbade me to go. How could their eldest daughter take over the estate if she was too busy galavanting around on stage in a tutu and leotards? I didn't care though, I had a chance to have my dream and I took it.
I just wished they could see me now.
I'd been a part of the society for almost 5 years now, and not once in that time had anyone in my family come to watch me perform. At least not to my knowledge. It often left a bitter taste in my mouth when I'd think about the first few months after, how quickly my parents were to drop me the second I defied their orders. I was really just an heir.
Tonight was the opening night of the play Coppélia. It's about a doll that comes to life and captures the heart of a young man and was first created in 1870. It was one of my favorites of all time, and I got to play the lead.
I stood in my dressing room, fixing my hair to make sure it was neat and out of my face. I let out a soft exhale, opening night was always the worst. Mistakes could be made at every twist and turn and the expectations were high from the audience.
A firm knock on my door made me jump. "Y/N We're starting." The director's voice calls from the other side before his footsteps hastily retreat. I take another deep breath before rushing out to get to my position.
I brush past the male lead, Miles, who offers me a comforting smile. "Hey." He says, stopping me for a moment. "You're gonna do great, okay?"
"You too," I say, giving his arm a soft squeeze before pulling away and rushing to my starting position.
Go time.
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I stumbled into my dressing room with a beaming smile. That couldn't have gone any better. I let out an excited squeal as I sat on the plush couch. Not to sound self-absorbed, but I did amazing. My excitement was short-lived as I was temporarily distracted by the bouquet of flowers sitting atop my dresser. Gifts already?
I stand and look at the pretty pure white Gardenia bunched up and placed neatly in a glass vase. I notice a note placed beside it on the counter, the words 'Pretty Ballerina' written out in neat cursive.
I pick it up with a small smile and unfold the card.
'To the pretty ballerina,
I couldn't imagine a more fitting beauty to play such a role. Please do not be deterred from the early gift, I could not help myself. You amazed me and others with your performance, even though it is opening night!
I've always been a fan of Ballet, however, this is the first time in a long time that I have been completely captivated by one of the dancers. I hope to see you continue on stage, and one day I may even show you my face. Enjoy the Gardenias, known for their purity and sweetness. I'll send you many more gifts in the future.
From, Seonghwa'
I stare at the name at the bottom of the page. Seonghwa, huh? I smile as I put the card down, my fingers lightly touching the Gardenias petals as I let the smell engulf my senses. A part of me hoped this secret admirer would come and visit, another part of me hoped he wouldn't. Either way, I assumed this wouldn't be the last I'd hear from him.
And I was right.
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Over the next few weeks my apartment and dressing room slowly turned into a florist from the amount of flowers and gifts Seonghwa had sent me. They letters of admiration slowly turned into love letters, causing my heart to race with excitement after every show.
I needed to see him, needed to know who he was, and I felt like I would slowly eat myself alive. I got butterflies just from the words he wrote on paper. Would I feel the same if I saw him?
I hatched a plan to catch him. I left him a note tapped to my mirror to wait so I could see him. I didn't have high hopes at all. He'd written in his letters how he had no time to stay, how he longed to hear my voice and see my smile up close. I needed to meet him desperately, and I prayed as I danced that tonight would be the night where my wishes would be granted.
As I walked into my dressing room after yet another amazing show, I let out a soft gasp. A tall man dressed in a black suit stood by my dresser. He was handsomely pretty, his features sharp but his eyes soft. His hair was long and styled back, making him look like he walked straight out of Dorian Gray.
"Seonghwa?" I ask softly, stepping forward. I could feel the heat on my cheeks, glancing in the mirror to see a light pink hue. He smiles as he hears my voice, clearly liking his name on my lips.
"Hello, Y/N, is it?" He asks, god even his voice is pretty. Was this really the same man who sent me those letters? I smile softly and nod, moving to stand in front of him properly. "You truly are the prettiest thing I have ever laid eyes on." He murmurs softly, his eyes scanning my body. My cheeks were surely red by now as I lowered my head to hide away from his intense gaze.
I've been flirted with before, it's no surprise, especially in such a big city. However, no flirting attempt had ever come from a man whose beauty could compare to a Greek god. None of them actually worked either.
"You're the one who has been sending me gifts?" I ask, looking back up at him to see him beaming down at me.
"I hope you don't mind. I understand it could seem weird that I've come to every show." He says sheepishly.
"No, not at all! I've started to look forward to your letters." I say with a soft laugh. If a smile could get any brighter, his did. I couldn't help myself but to return it.
"Are you free tomorrow? For brunch?" He asks, holding out a card between his middle and index finger for me to take.
"Is this you asking me out on a date?" I ask, taking the card from his hand, making sure to brush my fingers against his. He purses his lips at the contact, trying to suppress his growing smile.
"It can be a date if you want it to." He says, his voice like honey as his hand lingers for a moment.
"I'll give you a call." I say, holding his card tightly as he nods.
"I wish I could stay longer. However, work calls." He apologizes, tilting his head as he moves away, taking his warmth with him. I wondered what he did. He had to make a lot of money to come to every single one of these shows because they sure as hell weren't cheap.
"I'll see you around then?" My words came out as a question rather then a statement.
"Definitely." He says, bowing like a gentleman before he turns to leave. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked down at his card. His phone number was written in neat font with his name 'Park Seonghwa' written above it. Below his number was a company name; ATZ Corp.
I recognized the name; ATZ Corp was a company started by an old money family, the Kims. I knew their son, Hongjoong, had taken over the company a few years ago and had hired a few of his close friends from college to help run it. They worked with real estate mostly, however, I had heard rumors that they also did work in the underground. After finally meeting Seonghwa, I didn't really believe it. He looked far too neat in his appearance to work for a gang, let alone the mafia.
I turn back to my mirror and laugh softly at the fresh bouquet of Gardenias waiting for me. He never bought fake flowers and never anything other than the same pure white Gardenias. They must be his favourite, or he assumed they were mine.
The sound of the director calling us for a briefing snapped me out of my haze. Quickly tucking the card into my purse, I rushed out of my dressing room to meet with the cast.
I tried my best to pay attention. However, my brain kept sweeping me back to Seonghwa. His smile, his warm aura, the excitement that bubbled up inside me as our hands touched even if it was brief. I couldn't help but let my mind wonder into what could be.
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webslingingslasher · 1 year ago
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you did reader having a bad day and going to see frat!peter but can we get him having a bad day and going to see trouble?
*cleaning out my inbox.*
three loud knocks at your door had you jump from your seat, you were so in the zone that the sharp sound had you frozen for a second.
making the short walk and pulling it open, peter forced his way in and ripped his backpack off before slamming it down. there was no reason to ask if he was mad because he was pissed.
'hi.' you try being gentle, even softly closing the door before peter points at you. 'i was sick, wasn't i?' you blink fast, 'wha-'
'i was sick! last week, i was sick!'
you have no idea where he's taking this, but you're in for the ride. it's not you he's mad at and that's very clear, he's just trying to share his frustration. 'you were sick. you were throwing up.'
'thank you! i was! it was awful!'
you nod with him. 'yeah, throwing up sucks.'
'it does! and guess the fuck what, i missed a quiz and this stupid fucking prick of a professor won't let me retake it. he tried blaming me and said i needed to be more serious, trying to insinuate i was hungover when he knows for a fact i've shown up on my fucking deathbed before!'
you feel anger build for him, peter takes his academics very seriously. so if saying he doesn't take it seriously feels like a slap in the face to you, you can't imagine how it feels for him.
'oh, that's fucked, petey. if you want i'll draft a letter to the dean and we can-'
peter laughs and shakes a finger in the air. 'already did it. and guess what, i got to retake it. but he couldn't handle the fact i went over his head and he called me immature and unequipped to handle the real world.'
you gasp, peter nods with exaggeration. 'yup! so fuck that class, fuck that prick, fuck the guy that got cheese on my shoes-' your eyes look at his nikes, true to his words there's splatters of orange on the tops. "- fuck ethan for getting me sick, fuck everything and everyone!'
a gulp of air, he calms himself down. 'except you. i still like you.' the room goes quiet when he sits on the edge of your bed. it's just one of those days where nothing you say will fix it and he just needs to feel sorry for himself and have someone do it with him.
you stand in front of him and hold his head to your torso. peter buries his face in your shirt and breathes deep, you're worried he might be suffocating himself. you take his snapback off and lightly scratch his scalp.
'i'm sorry everything and everyone sucks, petey.' you can feel a rumble when peter talks but you can't hear him at all. 'what's that, mumbles?' he has a slight blush when he pulls back, 'except you.' he hides his face again, holding you even closer.
'wanna look at me?' a thrash into your stomach, he's anchored around your waist. 'please?' another silent no. 'i wanna tell you something.'
a squeeze, he's listening. 'no, c'mon, look at me.' peter shouts into your shirt, it still comes out muffled. 'no. you just wanna see me all blushy and shy.'
you tickle behind the collar of his shirt, he jolts into your touch. 'just look at me, please?' a few deep breaths, he's not so pink cheeked anymore. you try to mimic peter when you're upset and cup his face, you get why he does it, he's so delicate under your touch.
'you are insanely smart, peter. i've seen the effort you've put into your work. remember one time i tried to see if i could help you finish but your math questions are like three miles long?' a small smile, your heart picks up. you're helping!
'and you're way more equipped than anyone i know, and you have the cleanest room in the house. oh, and you're a really good nephew.' there it is, that's what you were searching for. peter warmed under your touch, watching him transform into bashful had you soaring.
'not to mention how handsome you are. i mean, i totally get it, petey. cause you're my baby.' red, red, red. he turned red. peter dove for your chest, he can feel his heartbeat in his throat.
'you're being mean when i'm sad.' you pat his head before tangling your fingers in, 'i just wanted you to know that your professor sucks and is the dumbest person to ever talk to you. he's wrong and today sucked and that's all it should be.'
you bend to press a kiss to the crown of his head. 'wanna lay down for cuddles,' you wait until he shuffles away, 'my beautiful, handsome baby boy?'
another flush, you never noticed how good peter looked in red. 
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peachhcs · 1 month ago
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wait so what does will think about samy’s soccer offer?
because this would take place middle-endish of samy's junior year, i imagine gabe and ryan signing on with their nhl teams after their second year at boston—so in this they're already in their rookie season with the ny rangers and washington capitals.
i wrote ryan, gabe and will’s reaction all in one. i lowkey hate this, but it’s fine. i thought i was gonna drag out samy’s decision a bit longer, but she seems pretty decided in this part..sooo woohoo samy’s becoming a professional soccer player!!
au masterlist | previous part
"there she is!" ryan exclaimed when samy walked into the restaurant. the girl quickly smiled, hurrying over to hug the two boys standing up from their table. ryan embraced her first, a large grin on his features before passing her to gabe. 
"good to see you, hughesy," gabe squeezed her torso. she pulled back to admire their faces after not seeing them since summer. 
"it's good to see you guys too. i wanna hear all about your seasons so far," she gushed. ryan and gabe's teams happened to both be in detroit this weekend with games right after the other, so the three agreed to grab lunch in between. 
"we wanna hear about yours, miss 2nd national cup holder and captain," ryan pinched her arm as they finally sat down. the blushed deeply, quickly brushing him off. 
"it's honestly a dream come true. i'm so lucky to have a team like them," the girl giggled, eyeing the menu for a second. 
"sorry we couldn't be there this year. we saw the highlights though and you guys dominated that field," gabe added and samy grinned. 
"if you end up going pro, you're gonna build that program," ryan chuckled and the girl's ears burned hearing him say that. she bit her lip for a moment, wondering if she should just bring it up now that ryan mentioned it or wait. samy's been fighting a lot of internal battles lately, but she decided to just tell them now and get it off her chest or else she'd be anxious the whole lunch. she reached for her purse.
"speaking of going pro.." she slowly slid the envelope from her pocket, both boys watching her carefully, "i got a letter from albertin montoya. he's the head coach for bay fc, the women's professional soccer team in san francisco," she slid it towards them. 
gabe and ryan exchanged a glance before slowly eyeing the envelope. ryan grabbed it first, tearing the letter out while gabe leaned in to read over his shoulder. the soccer player watched their eyes slide across the page, eyes widening with each word they read.
"samy, holy shit. this is..this is awesome," ryan mumbled in disbelief.
"since freshman year? that's crazy. he knows you have talent," gabe jumped up to give the girl another congratulating hug. she giggled when ryan joined the group hug a second later. 
"so so proud of you hughesy," the taller brunette hummed, ruffling up her hair like a brother would. she flushed at their praise. 
"thanks guys..it's pretty crazy. i'm still wrapping my head around it. there is a small, small catch though," she got to the tougher side of the news as the boys sat back down. "he wants me on once my junior year is over which means i forfeit my last year at mich." 
"oh. of course there's a catch," gabe rolled his eyes a bit as ryan glanced at the letter again. 
"i guess that means you have a lot of talent in his eyes if he wants you that soon and badly," ryan commented, but then met his friend's gaze and saw the look in her eyes that both of them have grown to know really well over the years. 
"wait are you thinking about not taking it?" gabe quickly asked when he saw the look too.
"i don't know," the youngest hughes admitted making their eyes go wide again. 
"samy, you can't not take this offer. if you don't—"
"i know, i know. if i don't i may not get another offer like this again, but you guys gotta hear me out with this one. michigan has been my own life. it's what my family's built on. we moved to michigan because our parents saw how much we'd flourish here. it sounds crazy but it has this pull on me that's hard for me to let go of. not to mention just losing my senior year at michigan in general. i've dedicated 3 years of my life to that school. it's not that easy walking away from it," she cut gabe off and rambled off her explanation so they could at least hear where she was coming from. their faces softened hearing her say all of that about the school. 
"is there any way you could just not sign on officially yet and play your last season at michigan then once that's over, you can sign on officially?" the dark-haired boy wondered. 
"i emailed a bit with him and he said he wants me on all or nothing. it's crucial i start the regular season with them," the brunette shook her head. 
"well maybe look at this way. you played three great seasons for michigan. you built their program from the ground up. you left them with that legacy and those skills. it's like us leaving boston after two years. we left that program knowing there was a lot of great guys coming into it and continuing our legacy. there's girls on that team who look up to you and wanna do the same once you leave, so don't think the program won't be the same if you leave. you built that for them, so of course they're gonna use it. all of what's happened at michigan has helped you get to this moment that i know has been your dream for a long time," ryan's words weren't ones samy was expecting, but she appreciated hearing them. a soft blush spread across her cheeks. 
"it sucks having to leave a place and people you love, but it helped you gain so many new experiences and opportunities, like the one right here. if this guy has been looking at you since freshman year, then that has to mean something. to him, you have raw, real talent that he knows can excel even further in a professional setting," gabe added. their words were so sweet it almost made samy cry as she chuckled and tried playing off all the sentimentality. 
"you guys are soo cheesy," she giggled playfully making the boys smile. 
"i know it's hard, hughes, but this door will open so much for you. you're gonna go so far, i know it," ryan pinched her arm in a loving way. 
"it's just so weird to think about picking my life up and moving it away from my parents and my home."
"it's always really weird, but you won't be alone. you'll be closer to will. and mack. and quinn technically. you'll at least be on the same coast," gabe added and samy nodded. 
"what did smitty say?" ryan asked and the girl flushed. she fiddled with the ends of the table cloth, "i haven't told him yet." 
"you haven't told him? why?" gabe quickly asked.
"i don't know. i think i got scared of his reaction so i held off. i was still..feeling overwhelmed by everything and i didn't wanna put this on him yet," the brunette admitted. 
"hughesy, you know he's gonna be ecstatic. he's been talking about getting you to california since he got drafted. don't sweat his reaction," ryan reassured with a nod. 
"i know, i know. i just get scared to tell him certain things sometimes. i know he's gonna be so excited," she laughed lightly. 
"i get it, but he's not that guy anymore. he loves you, samy. like really loves you. he's gonna be so excited to hear about this. and if you're still feeling doubtful, maybe it's something you guys can talk about and how he managed moving across the country for a once and a lifetime opportunity," ryan laughed too.
"well..he technically didn't handle it the best because.." gabe's voice faded off, deciding to not finish that sentence. ryan and samy laughed though.
"right, yeah. i know what you mean. i'll tell him probably after tonight. i've just been trying to hype myself up," the girl hummed, feeling a little lighter about all of this after talking with gabe and ryan. 
now that the big topic was out of the way, the three spent the rest of lunch catching up. ryan and gabe gushed about nhl life while samy talked about her second national title. she always loved catching up with those two because there was never a dull moment with ryan stuffing his face with food and the two of them trying to talk over one another. 
later that night after samy got back from the game, she decided to call will. it was only 7 his time and he was definitely still awake. she propped her phone up against her desk while she began changing into comfier clothes and waiting for him to connect. 
"hi, baby. did you just get back?" his face appeared on her screen a moment later. he was walking into his room and shutting the door behind him. 
"yeah, like ten minutes ago. it was a great game. gabe's so fast on the ice," she giggled. 
"yeah, he's crazy. was lunch good?" 
"it was great. we caught up. gabe and ryan were gabe and ryan like usual. i missed seeing them, so i was glad we were able to catch one another." 
"i'm glad to hear that. they were excited to see you," will smiled. he would always love how close his old linemates and girlfriend became. they looked out for her like brothers and that was something will really came to appreciate when he wasn't around as much anymore. 
"so..i have some news for you," the girl sat back down in her chair once she finished changing. 
"what's that?" the blonde wondered. 
"i got a letter from albertin montoya the other day. he's the head coach of bay fc which is a women's professional soccer team in san francisco. he said he's been following me since freshman year, admires my talent and hardwok and wants me to sign on with bay fc at the end of this school year," she watched will's eyes widened the same way ryan and gabe's did earlier.
"are you joking?" 
"no, i'm not. i have the letter right here. it's crazy right?" samy breathed and showed the envelope in the frame. will's jaw snapped open, so much shock and disbelief on his expression.
"babe, you're kidding. holy shit. this is like pro soccer?" 
"yeah, pro soccer. i didn't even know he knew my name," the girl laughed. 
"baby, oh my god. i always knew you had it in you. holy shit. this is incredible," will was smiling from ear to ear at the news making the youngest hughes blush. 
"i'd have to forfeit my senior year at mich if i take it though which has been kind of hard for me and deciding," she frowned a bit. the hockey player quickly frowned too.
"damn, really?" 
samy nodded, "i've been talking about it with everyone though and i think i am going to take it. i'm gonna miss michigan and my senior year, but i also wouldn't have this opportunity without any of this or then and i think if i didn't take it it'd all be wasted." 
"i know it's hard leaving a place you love, but this is a crazy great opportunity for you, hughes. this coach has to know you have the skill if he wants you so soon. plus, you won't be far from me," a tiny grin spread across will's face because he's been dreaming of the day him and samy wouldn't have to do long distance for long periods of time anymore. a smile appeared on samy's lips as well hearing him say that. 
"that is a plus of it, yes," she giggled.
"seriously though, i think this will be a really great opportunity for you. you left a really, really great mark on michigan that i don't think anyone will ever forget your name there," the blonde laughed. 
"how did you managed moving so far away from home? that's another part that still gets me because i've never been that far away from my parents before," samy wondered softly, resting her chin on her knees that were pulled to her chest. 
"honestly, we both know i didn't handle it well at first," a laugh escaped their lips again because now it was something they could laugh about, "but i guess i just remembered that my family will always be there for me no matter what. i know if i ever needed something my mom wouldn't hesitate to fly out and be there for me and i know your mom is the same. it's a really hard adjustment, but it's not like they won't be there anymore you know? they'll always be there." 
"yeah, you're right. i think this will be really good for me. i happen to really like the west coast too," the couple shared a laugh. 
"it's gonna be really good for you, samy. i've watched your talent for eight years and there's not a doubt in my mind that you'll do really great over here," his words made the girl blush. 
"looks like we better start planning what to do when i get there then," she grinned.
51 notes · View notes
holdmymallowsweet · 4 months ago
Text
What are you doing here? 05
Ominis Gaunt x f!MC Word count: 5491, properly tagged on AO3
Chapter summary: Time heals all wounds, but some things help speed up the process.
a/n: Sorry this took me much longer than I said it would, (I should just stop making promises about when I’ll update this thing) but this is a chapter that I actually really like and feel good about, so I hope you’ll enjoy! And this chapter was beta read by the very sweet and lovely ladyelisabeth from AO3, who did an absolutely amazing job ❤️
Warnings: mentions of nausea and throwing up, no detailed descriptions but I thought I’d mention it.
Chapter 04 || Masterlist || Chapter 06
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Chapter 05 - End of the night
Ominis made the remaining few steps to the common room in a daze.
He gave the door the password- it didn’t open. Then he realised he’d said it in Parseltongue. He couldn’t remember the last time his mind had been so addled.
Inside, he made his way past the table where he’d done his homework mere hours earlier, but now it felt like a different lifetime, and a different person. Haphazardly, he ran his hand across the surface- his mess was gone, someone must have cleaned it up. A prefect, probably. 
Oh, but if they hadn’t, he would have dragged his fingers through a sea of ink. Would he have cared?
Near the window, someone laughed, someone else joined in, briefly drowning out the calm tunes of the piano. And Ominis stood there, in the middle of it, not willing to believe that he’d made it back into a world where there could be laughter, or music, or anything good at all.
The nausea came back, and he dragged himself off towards the dormitories to spare his housemates the sight of him throwing up.
A few steps up the stairs, then through the corridor and the door to the room he shared with Sebastian.
Sebastian. Where was he?
Ominis opened the trunk at the end of his bed, carelessly throwing out his belongings, until he found it, the wooden box he always kept safe but never opened. Now he did, for the first time in years, with shaking hands. He felt the letters, the pin in the shape of the Gaunt family crest- he’d never wear it but couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it either- and underneath, there it was, the small stuffed animal, the only one he ever had. 
Given to him by Aunt Noctua, like all the other things he’d locked inside that box after she’d disappeared. Too afraid that touching them again would be too painful, but it didn’t matter now. He could hardly imagine feeling worse than he already did.
Ominis sat on his bed, clutching the stuffed animal to his chest, feeling the little face, the small beaded eyes. Noctua had told him it was a Kneazle when she first put it into his tiny, eager hands. It had felt so much bigger then. He’d never been sure how much it resembled an actual Kneazle, as he never had the opportunity or the urge to pet a real one, but he’d loved it all the same.
His parents only ever gave their children toys that would challenge their mind, or kept them occupied at least. They saw no value in something that was meant to be loved, to provide comfort. But Noctua did. She was the only one who’d gift him something like this, and he couldn’t ever bring himself to part with it, even after all the happy memories faded. 
Ominis squeezed it so tightly he feared he might accidentally dig holes in it with his fingers, and then the tears finally fell. It was too much. Aunt Noctua was gone- yes, he’d known, he’d known, but he never had to face it, not like today.
She’d be gone too. His new almost-friend. Not from this world, but from a future where they would be more than strangers sharing a friend.
And Sebastian- 
Ominis let himself fall on his side, face smushed into his pillow, hugging his Kneazle and his knees tightly to his chest.
Sebastian did it because he had to. Because he had to, not because he wanted it- but he had to want it. And it had been too easy. That disturbed him more than anything else.
He didn’t know how long he’d spent curled up on his bed, quietly sobbing, until he had no more tears left. Now he just felt exhausted, like he’d aged a hundred years in a matter of hours.
The door opened slowly but he didn’t bother getting up, there was only one person it could be. 
“Are you asleep?” Sebastian asked cautiously. 
Ominis considered pretending, just for a moment. “No, I’m not.” His voice sounded hoarse from all the crying, but if Sebastian noticed it, he kept it to himself. At least he didn’t insult him by asking if he was all right- his swollen eyes and blotchy face were probably all the answer Sebastian needed anyway.   
“Ah.”
Silence. Should he ask where Sebastian had been, since they split up outside the common room? Did he want to know? He heard Sebastian sit down on his bed.
“Will you tell Anne?” Ominis asked numbly. 
He waited several moments, until he was about to repeat the question, assuming Sebastian hadn’t heard him.
“No, I don’t think so,” it finally came from the other bed. “Will you?”
“No. She has enough troubles, I think.” 
There was a time when they’d told each other everything. 
“Do you think she’s all right?” Sebastian asked after another long pause, and with so much hesitation, Ominis wasn’t sure if he really wanted to hear the answer.
It was obvious they were no longer talking about Anne.
The honest answer was no- she’d only suffered the curse once, and it likely wasn’t as strong as it could have been, given Sebastian’s inexperience. Like his own back then. His father had called it weak, but the screams of his victim suggested otherwise. So no, he did not think she could possibly be all right, but as much as Sebastian should feel the weight of what he’d done, he knew what it was like to live with that guilt.
“Don’t worry too much about her.” Ominis said softly.
Ominis heard the rustling of fabric and thought Sebastian was changing into his nightclothes, but after several long moments realised he must be fidgeting with his bedsheets, or the curtains.
“She wasn’t quite herself, was she? When she left. Quieter.”
“You would know better than me.” It was a lie.
The realisation of it came suddenly, digging into his heart with iron claws. He’d gotten so used to it, her being a constant guest in some corner of his mind, always so close but out of reach, behind the wall he’d put up between them. 
And he’d subconsciously tried to make up for it by remembering every single one of her unique little habits and peculiarities, learned to decipher her mood by the subtle way it tinted her voice instead of asking how she was, let her smell tell him where she’d been instead of simply talking to her.
…he could have simply talked to her.
He could have.
Not anymore.
Sebastian’s fidgeting had turned into him nervously tapping against his bedpost. It was starting to wear on Ominis’ already frayed nerves. “Sebastian, she’s better off with the other Hufflepuffs. They won’t ignore it if she’s still in pain.”
“Pain?” Sebastian audibly jolted out of his bed. “In the book, it said the pain only lasts until the curse is lifted. Why would she-“
Something in Ominis snapped.
“You’re unbelievable.” Ominis sat upright, letting go of his stuffed animal, and faced Sebastian with a cold look, which he hoped was very noticeable. “Has it ever occurred to you that I would know better than your bloody book?” 
“I… well, it’s not something you ever-”
“Obviously, did you think I’d want to relive the experience over and over again?” Ominis’ hands were shaking. “You thought the book was going to tell you? That someone who writes instructions on how to cast an unforgivable would have compassion for its victims?”
“She’s not a victim, she agreed to it,” Sebastian said quietly. 
“Did she know what she agreed to? Truly?” Ominis turned his back to Sebastian and threw himself down on his bed again. Now he regretted not pretending to be asleep when he’d heard his friend come in.
“I… fine, I’ll go- I’ll make sure she’s alright, if she needs anything-“ Sebastian had already half crossed the room before Ominis could reply.
“Don’t. What do you expect her to need from you? If you regret what you’ve done, deal with it on your own. Leave her alone.” 
Ominis heard Sebastian shuffling around uncertainly, then the distinct sound of something being kicked- a stack of books, probably- followed by him storming out of the room and slamming the door shut.
Ominis squeezed his eyes shut. He felt the beginnings of another wave of nausea, the shiver from his hands now ran throughout his whole body. He felt so cold, but it wasn’t because of the never ending chill of the dungeons. It didn’t help, though. 
It was too similar.
He wrapped his blankets tighter around himself. At least the Hufflepuff common room would be nice and warm. Bright and comforting. Not at all like the scriptorium, perhaps that helped. He hoped it did.
Hopefully she’d find some sleep tonight. He knew he wouldn’t.
He had no sense of time as he laid in bed, not knowing whether he’d rather fall asleep to stop the never ending waves of regret and self-loathing or spare himself the nightmares. The little Kneazle laid somewhere on the floor, where it must have fallen at some point during his argument with Sebastian.  
Seconds turned into minutes and then hours.
Sebastian returned eventually, in the middle of the night, wordlessly changing into his pyjamas and going to bed, but the lack of his usual soft snores told Ominis that sleep didn’t come easy to him either.
Ominis drifted in and out of consciousness, though he couldn’t tell if he was ever fully asleep. Sounds and slivers of their conversations came together in his mind to form a dissonant mess, incomprehensible, but they made his airway close up and his chest painfully tight. Then he thought for a moment of true horror that he felt human bones scraping against his fingertips.
He woke up shaking and covered in sweat, barely making it to the bathroom before he finally threw up. Hands clenched tightly at the edges of the sink, sweat soaked strands of his hair sticking against his forehead, he stood there, retching for another few minutes even as his stomach was long empty.
It hadn’t been the first time they’d tortured Muggles for sport, and it wouldn’t be the last. They’d usually wipe their memories clean and throw them out on the street, not knowing what had happened to them, only that it was something unspeakable, something unnatural they couldn’t explain. But that time had been different, that time it had a purpose, to teach him a lesson, to make him understand.
They told Ominis they’d make it stop for them, once he’d manage to use the curse. In his child’s mind, he hadn’t understood what that had meant.
The walk back to his bed seemed to take forever and yet felt too short at the same time. When he finally laid back down, he couldn’t fall asleep again, not that he wanted to.
After an eternity, he heard Sebastian get up. The patter of his sluggish steps on the way to the bathroom. The sounds of running water, the wardrobe opening and closing, clothes rustling and falling to the floor. A familiar symphony signalling the start of yet another school day. 
Ominis stayed in bed, clutching the sheets.
Footsteps getting closer to the door, then they paused.
“Ominis…” Sebastian hesitated. “If you still want to get breakfast before classes, you need to get up now.”
Ominis curled up tighter. “I don’t feel well. Would you please let the Professors know?” he said hoarsely.
Uncertain shuffling. “All right. ‘Course I will. Want me to bring you something from the Great Hall?”
“No, thank you, Sebastian.”
“Are you sure? It’s no problem, I have time.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“I’ll check on you between classes.”
“Don’t bother.”
“When I see her, should I say something?”
Ominis flinched. “No.”
“I’ll let her know you’re worried-”
“Please don’t. Please.”
Silence.
“Get well soon, then,” Sebastian said, and while both of them knew fully well that Ominis hadn’t suddenly fallen ill last night, Ominis could tell his friend was happy to go along with the lie. He was probably glad to keep his distance as well, to make it easier to pretend nothing happened, and truly- who could blame him.
The door closed, and for a moment, he felt relieved. It didn’t last. The dread crept back in, all the questions and uncertainties that had wracked his brain all throughout the night. And being completely and utterly sleep deprived didn’t help in sorting them out, so they just sat there, stewing and festering. 
How concerned should he be about Sebastian, being so adept at using the dark arts that he could flawlessly cast an unforgivable on his first try? What was he going to find in that spellbook- Ominis had been too out of it to pay it much mind yesterday, but now he wished he’d been able to pay more attention when the two of them talked about it.
How was he ever going to face her again?
If he hadn’t tried to approach her under false pretences-  because what else could one call it? She hadn’t known what he’d done, what he was capable of- 
But she had. Ominis frowned.
“Sebastian told me a little of what happened when you were young”
Even at that moment, it had stung. That, more than anything else, should have been his choice to tell her. And Sebastian had taken that away from him too.
When? After they’d met in the library, or before?
And how much had Sebastian downplayed and justified Ominis’ actions, if she’d still been willing to follow him into the scriptorium, despite knowing?
Well, she knew now, the full extent of it, in a way that even Sebastian or Anne couldn’t ever comprehend. Ominis groaned, pulling the sheets over his head only to throw them off again, because he had enough trouble breathing already.
Keeping track of time was difficult in the Slytherin dormitories. He only knew that another hour had passed whenever there was a change in the ambient chatter coming through from the common room, signalling the start or end of someone’s free period or the lunch break. 
Was she able to keep food down by now? 
Did she even go to classes today?
Did Sebastian talk to her after all- and would it be obvious to him that she thought Ominis was the last person who had any right to feel unwell?
The day slipped into its afternoon, and the weight he’d felt all day grew heavier. Sebastian would be back soon enough, and even if he drew the curtains, pretended to be asleep, he’d have to leave his bed for some reason eventually. 
Ominis couldn’t do it anymore, he had to go- somewhere else, anywhere else, because he didn’t think he’d survive the night if he kept laying there, trapped in his own mind and barely able to breathe. He forced himself out of bed with a groan. His limbs felt leaden and numb, and his eyes burned from crying and lack of sleep. Treacherous, useless things.
Ominis put a reasonable amount of effort into washing up and making himself look presentable. Not as much as he probably should have, considering he’d spent the last day in a grimy, almost thousand year old dungeon corridor and his sweaty bed, but enough not to gather unwanted attention from passersby.
He sluggishly made his way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower. Walking past chatter and laughter, groups of friends who had a free period and spent the time sharing jokes or lamenting their woes.
Someone told his friends they sent Duncan Hobhouse a howler for making a mess in their dormitory, and any other time it would have made Ominis grin like a madman. More silly little tales for his collection, to add to the ones he’d filed away in his mind, thinking perhaps he might one day share them with her.
What a pointless endeavour.
And she still had Noctua’s letters, but Ominis was no longer sure he wanted them.
He should consider himself lucky if she could ever stand to be in the same room as him again, if they could at least go back to being polite strangers. 
Why did it have to turn out so wrong? For a while, it hadn’t been so bad, it even felt like perhaps their jaunt into the scriptorium could bring them all closer together.
She didn’t even mind him being a Parselmouth.
“I wish I could speak to snakes”
“I’d like to see one someday”
Ah, right. He’d known she was curious about snakes, Ashwinders at least, she’d told him in the library. He’d completely forgotten by the time they went to the scriptorium. Why did he remember it only now, when it didn’t matter anymore?
If he’d remembered before, he could have- what, offered to accompany her on her trips around the Highlands, looking for Ashwinders with her?
Ominis ended up at his favourite spot next to the Serpentine Beast window, on the floor. The hall wasn’t as seasonally decorated as most other parts of the castle, but the faint smell of pumpkins and fallen autumn leaves came through every now and then, whenever a lone straggler would open the door leading to the Transfiguration Courtyard. 
He’d made it just in time for his favourite part of the day, when the rays of the afternoon sun came streaming through the stained glass window he’d never see, flooding the hall and gently warming his neck. It wouldn’t last, but it gave him some solace, a brief respite. For the first time in hours, though it certainly felt longer, he didn’t feel like he was suffocating. It became hard to keep his eyes open. 
He dozed off, unable to fight the exhaustion any longer.
He was woken up again- he didn’t know if it was seconds or minutes later, only that he wished he’d been granted more time, why wasn’t he ever allowed more time? And for the first few seconds after his eyes flew open, he didn’t know why he felt a crushing wave of dread, more powerful than before, until he recognized them.
Her footsteps, drawing closer towards him.
He’d expected something like this. She was entirely too kind, too considerate to ignore him and carry on as if they were strangers, of course she’d do him the courtesy of telling him in person-
That it would be for the best if there never was a second attempt at a study session in the library.
Ominis had known he’d have to face her eventually, but he’d hoped that it would be after he had time to sort out his thoughts, or at least get a few more hours of sleep.
“Hello, Ominis.” 
He choked on the trepidation in her voice. 
Of course she was nervous, she was about to tell him that she’d like him to keep his distance, that what he and Sebastian had put her through wasn’t what she’d come to Hogwarts for, that his secrets and sins weighed entirely too heavy on her conscience, that she-
“Do you mind if I sit down?”
His voice failed him, he fought the urge to get up and flee, because there was nothing she’d say which he hadn’t already heard her tell him in his mind, over and over again, all night. But he hardly had the right, so he straightened his back and moved his legs out of the way, a silent invitation.
She sat down at his right, not touching him, but closer than she should.
She smelled like Wiggenweld potion again, although Ominis was sure she couldn’t possibly have been outside in her state- she must have tried to use it to alleviate the echoes of pain from the curse, not knowing it wouldn’t help. 
“I came to apologise.”
He couldn’t have heard her right.
“I’m truly sorry, Ominis, I mean it. I never wanted to hurt you,” she said softly.
Ominis screwed up his face in disbelief. “Hurt me?”
“... in a way.”
“You were the one who- I should be the one to apologise.” His voice broke.
“What for? You didn’t know it would turn out like this.”
“Of course not, if I did, I’d never-”
“Then what are you apologising for? You were the only one of us who didn’t want to go. I’m the one who talked you into it.”
“But I let you. I should have known better. Sebastian should have known better.”
She huffed, as if she was offended. “Don’t blame Sebastian, please. I’m the one who offered to talk to you, and just between you and me, I think he was slightly offended that it worked.”
‘Now you’ll share? You wouldn’t tell me when I practically begged.’
She was right. Ominis could always tell when she was lying, but she sounded the same as she always did, as if she wasn’t- how could it be that the two of them were talking as if nothing happened?
“How…” his voice broke again. He forced himself to breathe, mustering up the courage to ask what he should have from the start. “How are you feeling?”
She tensed up. “Not well, to be honest. I suppose there’s no point in trying to hide it from you. It’s… I can still feel it. I wanted to go to the Hospital Wing last night, but I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t know if the nurse could tell somehow. I didn’t want Sebastian to get into trouble.”
Ominis had the sudden urge to reach out to her, to hold her hand and tell her it was going to be all right, to tell her- “It’s not real.” He turned his head towards her, to make sure she could see that he was being sincere, in case she was looking at him. “Aunt Noctua explained it to me, she said- she said it was my mind, not understanding why it’s painful even though my body wasn’t damaged, or ill. But it’s not real.”
“Oh.” She sounded so relieved.
“I was hoping it wouldn’t be this difficult for you. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s all right. As long as there’s nothing wrong. Thank you, Ominis. I guess I’ll just have to wait it out, then.”
No, she didn’t have to, he just remembered. “There is something that might help. You could ask Nurse Blainey for a Calming Draught.” 
“Do they just hand these out to students?” she asked doubtfully.
“Not usually, unless it’s time for exams. But between the dragon attack and trying to catch up with the rest of us, I doubt anyone would question it if you said you needed some.” Merlin, why didn’t he think of it sooner? He should have told her yesterday. “We could go now if you’d like, I’ll show you-”
“Perhaps later. I don’t think anyone suspected anything during classes, and I wouldn’t want to start rumours. Or cause anyone to worry.”
Anyone?
Ominis frowned. “Has Sebastian asked how you were?”
“Of course he did. I told him it was nothing to worry about.”
“Why?”
She took her time to answer. “Because I didn’t want him to regret it forever.”
“I shouldn’t have told you that. I’m sorry, I…”
“Stop apologising,” she said softly. “And please don’t blame Sebastian, I wouldn’t have left him a choice either way.”
Ominis was confused, only for a moment. Then the fog lifted and his heart broke into a million pieces, as he finally understood. “You decided it would be you. Even before you asked me, you…” He dug his fingers into his knees. “You weren’t asking me to curse Sebastian.”
“Of course,” she answered, matter-of-factly, as if they were discussing an article in the Daily Prophet over breakfast. “I’m the one who got us trapped there in the first place, it was the least I could do.” She groaned, showing the first obvious sign of discomfort since they’d started talking.
Ominis didn’t know what to say, but she seemed to know what went through his mind anyway. 
“It’s all right. I think it was for the best, the way we settled it- this way, you could stay out of it, and I think you wouldn’t have forgiven me if I hurt Sebastian, I know how much you care for each other,” she paused, before carrying on, more hesitantly than before, “I wouldn’t blame you if you won’t forgive me anyway.”
“That’s- of course I do, and you don’t need my forgiveness, the two of you didn’t have a choice.” 
“I thought one always had a choice.”
Was she grinning? Surely not- no she definitely was, he could hear her trying to stifle a chuckle, probably at his open-mouthed, dumbfounded expression. “... are you trying to pick a fight?”
“Am I?” she asked innocently.
“Could you please be serious?”
“Would that help?” It didn’t come out quite as lighthearted as she probably intended, followed by another groan.
Ominis turned towards her, frowning again. “Let’s go to the Hospital Wing. Please.”
“It’s fine- no really, it is. I can’t go now, I’ll miss flying class.”
It took him a second to register what she’d said, then he was beginning to question her sanity. “... there’s no way you’re going to flying class like this, you must be out of your mind.”
“It’ll be fine, it’s not that bad anymore. I promise.”
“That’s not- why do you even need flying classes? I know you’ve beaten Imelda in one of her trials, you can’t be that inept on a broom.”
She snorted. “Thank you, but I’m not sure that would impress Madam Kogawa. She cares about flying responsibly and safely- so I guess I’ll make her very happy today.”
That wasn’t very reassuring, and he knew she could see it on his face. “I’ll go to the nurse later, if it’s not better by then, I promise.”
“Fine.” He wasn’t entirely convinced, but he wasn’t likely to win this argument either, so he let it go. With a bit of luck, Madam Kogawa would send her to Nurse Blainey as soon as she’d notice the first signs of pain, or at least she’d be attentive enough to catch her if she fell.
A slightly awkward silence settled between them after that. 
There was one more thing weighing on his mind, and Ominis hesitated to bring it up, but he didn’t know if or when he’d have the opportunity to ask her about it again. And he wasn’t sure how much time they had left until her class was starting, probably not much if it wasn’t enough to make it to the hospital wing for a potion. “May I ask you one more thing?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“Why did you want to learn the Cruciatus curse?”
“Ah, that.” She shifted, stretching her legs, knocking their knees together for a moment. “I didn’t. Not really.” 
“Then why…?” 
She sighed. “I suppose I wanted Sebastian to know that I don’t think less of him for knowing the curse, but in a way that wouldn’t make it harder for him to use it on me. I admit it wasn’t very well thought out.”
“So you won’t ever use it?”
“Of course not, I can’t imagine ever putting someone else through that, now that I know how it feels.”
Ominis knew she hadn’t said it to hurt him, but it still felt like a knife twisting in his chest. He turned away from her. No need to make her feel worse with the stricken expression he couldn’t keep off his face, and wasn’t it about time she left, if that’s how she felt?
“Ominis, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant now- in the scriptorium, I would have done anything to make it stop.”
“Not anything.”
“Yes, anything. I would have cursed you, Sebastian or anyone else, I couldn’t have gone through it again. Believe me.”
He did. And suddenly, the weight was gone, the wall was gone. He drew a shaky breath, and tears welled up in his eyes again.
“Uhm, may I ask you something as well?” she asked quietly.
Ominis cleared his throat, but his voice still came out strained. “Yes, of course.”
She leaned over, pressing their knees together, making his breath hitch in his throat. 
“Would it be possible for us to still be friends?”
Merlin, he should have just said yes, but at that moment he forgot words existed. When he remembered, after what seemed like an eternity, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Why?”
“Why?” she laughed nervously. “That’s an intriguing question. Would it be enough if I said ‘because I want to’?”
“You do?”
“Of course. Ominis, I never meant to come between you and Sebastian, I’d never want to do anything to hurt your friendship, I just… I was hoping I could be a part of it.”
“Of course you can.” The words came out without him even thinking about it, as natural as breathing. “I would like that. I’m sure Sebastian would too.”
And then he felt her hand on his own, still on his knees. It was so much smaller than he’d ever expected, so warm, sending a tingling sensation through his arm that reminded him of the first time he held his wand.
“Thank you.” She used him as leverage, pressing her hand into his own as she pushed herself off the floor. And then she took it away, and he had the mad urge to reach out and hold on to her.
“Well, I better get going or Madam Kogawa is going to make me polish all the broom handles for being late. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ominis.”
“Yes,” he replied, still in a trance, “yes, you will.”
He stayed until the last rays of the afternoon sun stopped warming his back, trying to hold on to the something that she left behind, that made the air easier to breathe and his body feel wonderfully light.
Perhaps he was secretly hoping she’d come back after flying class, but even though she didn’t, he wasn’t disappointed. He’d meet her in class the next morning, and then he could ask her where she’d been, or if she was feeling better, and he wouldn’t have to dread the answer.
His feet carried him the way back to the Slytherin common room, past the Great Hall and the ruckus of several dozen Hogwarts students enjoying their dinner. That’s probably where she was. He’d find the strength to join them tomorrow morning, for now all he wanted was his comfortable bed- which he didn’t dread anymore either.
“Ominis! There you are.” Sebastian jumped to his feet as soon as Ominis opened the door, knocking over his chair and picking it up under a softly muttered string of curses.
Ominis couldn’t help but smile. “Why, did you miss me?” He tried to give the question a healthy dose of sarcasm, but the relief in Sebastian’s voice made him fail utterly.
“I was worried, you moonmind.” Sebastian huffed indignantly. “So are you feeling better now? Where were you?”
Ominis crossed the distance to his bed, using the seconds it afforded him to think of how to answer. “I went on a walk, to clear my head.”
Which wasn’t entirely untrue.
“And yes, I am feeling much better.” 
Which was entirely the truth.
He sat down on his bed- actually, he sat down on a small stuffed Kneazle, which had somehow found its way back onto his bed- and noticed the wonderful, mouthwatering smell of biscuits faintly wafting through the air. He leaned over to find them sitting in a tin on his bedside table.
They were the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.
“You’re getting crumbs all over your bed.” 
“I truly don’t care,” Ominis replied, with as much dignity as he could through a mouth full of biscuits. “...and thank you,” he added, once he swallowed.
“I would have brought you an apple tart, but my robes aren’t hungry today.”
Ominis snorted. “I almost forgot about that.”
“You might have, but I still have a tart shaped stain here that never quite came out.”
Ominis rather doubted that, given the efficiency and diligence of the Hogwarts house elves, but he decided not to retort by way of flinging a biscuit Sebastian’s way, tempting though it was.
“So,” Sebastian started, more subdued than before, “do you need anything else?”
“No,” Ominis replied, letting himself fall back, kicking his shoes off and barely managing to keep his eyes open. “...just want to sleep.”
“At least brush your teeth.”
Ominis had his pyjamas thrown at him, managed to put them on somehow, and dragged himself off to the bathroom.
Exhaustion took him soon after, and the nightmares came again- they would for a long while. But when he woke that night, he felt the ghost of her touch lingering on his hand, lulling him back to sleep.
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a/n: This is finally the end of the pre-friendship part of this fic, next up we’ll see how the two of them navigate their first awkward days of new friendship, and if I can manage, we’ll have a nice Halloween themed chapter right before Halloween. At some point I genuinely thought I’d start this a/n with “sorry this is a short one” but it somehow ended up being over 5k words again, whoops. I hope you like the longer chapters, and maybe this makes up for the long wait. It’s been so long since this fic was anything but angsty, and I think this is the first time since chapter one that I’ve written any significant amount of dialogue for MC (that wasn’t taken straight from the game). I was almost a bit scared I’d forgotten how to write her, but starting a new playthrough and hearing all the early game dialogue again helped.  Thank you so much for reading, and please let me know what you think!
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liberaquantobasta · 2 months ago
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So I'm going to share my Solavellan Fanfic.
Ainur'Len Lavellan is filled with doubt about Solas' possible redemption after what happened to Varric. Solas is pulling the strings from the prison of regrets. Morrigan is willing to help Lavellan at any cost, and perhaps Mythal can help. What happens to Lavellan as events unfold in Veilguard?
This story follows the events and timeline of the last chapter of Dragon Age, but focuses on Lavellan and Solas.
MASSIVE SPOILERS FROM THE ENDING
[Chapter 2] - [Chapter 3]
The Ceiling Above Us 
1. The Doubt
The ceiling is high, but the room is so stifling, lit only by the faint glow of a flickering fire. Varric looks at his friend's back, it's stiff and bent forward while her hands are resting on the table. He can only imagine the frowned face of Lavellan as she leans over the map. 
"Inquisitor. How long has it been since you slept?" 
For a moment Varric can seee her shoulders relax, but the elf does not look at him. Just a faint shrug of her head.
"The last time I slept, I had such stupid dreams that I don't feel like closing my eyes anymore." 
Varric shakes his head and moves closer to his friend until he's beside her and he can see her face.
"Really, Ainur. How long has it been? A week? You need to rest. Without expecting to see him. Just close your eyes."
"He hasn't shown himself for months, Varric. If even this time..." the words die in her throat. 
"He'll be fine."
"I think he's close. I think he's found a way."
"I'll ask Leliana to spread the word. We have contacts all over Thedas. We are close to a breakthrough, the rumours are spreading from Minrathous. Tomorrow I will join Harding, she is already there."
Ainur'Len looks at him sideways, her tired eyes shrouded in two deep dark circles. She sighs and feels her muscles relax, as they often do when she talks to her friend. 
"I should go with you," she mutters, frowning.
"Aren't you sweet, Inquisitor?" Varric laughs and pats her shoulder. "You must keep the Venatori who have invaded the Hinterlands at bay, we need you here." 
"When will it end, Varric?" she finally turns to him, slowly running a hand through her raven hair.
"Soon, Ainur. You will see."
The Inquisitor clicks her tongue before allowing herself a faint smile. She locks her eyes with Varric's, breaking a promise from him.
"Be careful, please. And keep me informed."
He winks at her.
"Of course, Ainur'Len. I promise." 
*
"This is it, Inquisitor.
Harding found a lead through our contact in Minrathous. As soon as we arrived, all hell broke loose, I only have time to write you these few words. We have a small team of smart people trying to reach Chuckles and shake him up. I will try to bring him back in one piece, I promise. Chances are you will see us coming before you even get this letter.
When it's all over, maybe I'll write a novel about it, what do you think?
Love, secrets, betrayal: it'll be a bestseller.
Yours,
Varric." 
She clutches the letter until it crumples in her hands. 
Not this time.
I can't let you get away with this.
If you hear me, Solas, I won't forgive you.
How the hell could you do this?
Varric.
No.
The icy air cuts her face, maybe that's why her eyes are watering. She squeezes the wolf figurine in her hands, feeling it vibrate as she curses her old love. It is warm. She stares at the pool of dry blood before her.
Fuck, Solas. 
Morrigan takes a step back and looks away. 
"Haven't you lost enough?" She whispers, slowly bringing her eyes back to hers. "Do you still want to save him?"
Aiunr'Len hunches her shoulders forward and holds back a breath that turns to a sob. She holds the statuette to her chest and her legs can't take it any more. She collapses to her knees, eyes narrowed and tears streaming down her worn face. Her desperate scream breaks the silence, smacking against the clear sky and the light sea breeze that thickens the air.
Varric will never come back.
Shit, Solas. 
She holds her breath to keep from choking. Then she lets it out. Slowly. She resets her eyes on the wolf statuette she holds close. It vibrates. It glows softly, with blue flickers, soft and calm. 
Vhenan.
"It is no coincidence that you found it. The Dread Wolf leaves nothing to chance." Morrigan approaches her slowly, just enough to place a hand on her shoulder. She looks down at Ainur'Len, but her eyes are filled with an unusual softness. 
"He left it here for you to find. It is a fragment of something greater. A key. He wanted you to have it and no one else."
The elf searches for something more in the witch's eyes, but they reveal no secrets. She notices only a warm glow in the usually icy yellow colour. Perhaps it is Mythal who is looking at her. She wipes her nose with the back of her hand and rises quietly, her amber eyes returning to Solas' relic. 
"He's the same old piece of shit, Morrigan." She snorts, exhausted. She hears her friend chuckle. "But I can feel him. There's something about him in here. I can feel it." She shrugs. "Sometimes I wish he would just write me a fucking letter, you know? At least I'd find out what he's trying to tell me."
Morrigan shakes her head, smiling.
"You already know what he wants to tell you, Ainur'Len."
"I suppose I do. Or at least I hope I do."  
She stares at the spot where Fen'harel disappeared, swallowed by the Fade.
"I can't bear the thought of him being alone." She whispers. "Trapped in a prison of suffering." 
Morrigan lets the silence soften the weight of those words for a few moments before she speaks. 
"He is in a terrible place. A prison of regret. The loss of Varric will be just one more to haunt him. But you are also there with him. Hurting you must have made him suffer terribly. You have a special bond with the Fade. You have a connection to him." She pauses for a moment, giving the Inquisitor time to catch her breath. She is looking at her with exhausted eyes, full of fear, but with a glimmer of hope. 
The witch speaks again, cautiously, "Perhaps I know a way..."
*
Solas paces frantically, one hand on his chin, the other behind his back.
"Damn it."
His eyes, narrowed in anger, dart quickly from side to side. 
"Damn!" 
He lifts a stone with his gaze and hurls it at the iron bars that remain unharmed. With a grunt of rage, hundreds of rocks rise from the ground and crash against the metal. He knows it won't work.
"I have to get out of here." He looks around with a furrowed brow. "Rook." He mutters through clenched teeth, his voice a hiss.
He kicks a rock and sits on the ground, his gaze lost in the emptiness.
Then he hears it.
Not this time. 
I can't let you get away with this. 
If you can hear me, Solas, I won't forgive you. 
How the hell could you do this?
Varric. 
No.
He clenches his fists and his eyes suddenly fill with desperation. Something like panic floods his chest. He rises and a faint reflection of the Inquisitor appears before him.
"Vhenan. I have failed again." He holds his face in his hands, as if afraid it will slip away. "I have brought you pain once more. And with Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain at loose, no one is safe. Not even you."
Only silence, suffocating. 
“I have failed again. I... Varric is dead.”
Silence, deafening.
“I had taken precautions to save you. And now, the thought that they might get to you…”
The pale light illuminates Ainur'Len's face, which is not really hers, but a shy, expressionless reflection. He cannot bring himself to look at her. 
“I have a plan,” he whispers, his gaze suddenly sharp. “You would not approve. But it's my last chance.”
He glances once more at the bars surrounding him, before turning his back on the image of his beloved's face and walking slowly towards the rift that separates him from the rest of Fade. 
“You will understand when this is over.”
*
Back at the hideout a few miles from Minrathous, Ainur'Len can't even collapse into the chair that her friend is standing in front of her.
"We need to talk," she hints, pointing to the glowing object sticking out of the elf's pockets.
"Morrigan. Has anyone ever told you that you have terrible timing?" Ainur'Len tries to joke, but she can't even curl her lips into a smile. "Let me mourn the dead in peace. Please."' she rubs her eyes, still numb from the tears she shed. 
"What is it, Inquisitor?" Morrigan presses, one eyebrow raised. She tries to shake her off, "Are you having second thoughts?"
Ainur'Len suddenly feels uncomfortable in her chair. She holds her breath for a moment. She does not know. The only thing she is sure of is that it was she who sent Varric straight to his death. The only certainty is that Varric is gone, and it is all her fault. She runs a hand slowly down her face, her gaze lost in the emptiness. 
Morrigan leans over her, grabbing her shoulders and squeezing harder than she would like. 
"You have lost and will lose your people along the way." she whispers, looking steadily into her eyes. "It is the path you have chosen for yourself."
Ainur'Len slowly focuses on the image of the witch before her, these words echoing in her head like drums in a church. She straightens in her chair and shrugs Morrigan's hands from her shoulders. 
"I wish I could have persuaded him to stay with me." she doesn't know if she's talking about Solas or Varric. She holds back tears. She sniffles, trying to find the strength to face what is to come and what has been. But she has never had to deal with grief like this before. 
She cannot believe that Solas could have killed Varric in cold blood. She cannot accept that one of her closest friends is gone. That he will never come back. She feels overwhelmed by a feeling of helplessness that glues her to the chair, robbing her of all strength to fight. 
"So it is over," Morrigan whispers, looking down at her. "You are no longer convinced that Solas can redeem himself."
Ainurur'Len's face twitches in a grimace of pain. She looks at her friend with a pleading expression. 
"Morrigan, please. It's not like that. I don't... I don't know anymore. I don't know anything anymore. I..." she freezes, her voice breaking. She fixes her eyes on her feet. "What if it had been me instead of Varric? Would he have killed me too?"
Morrigan lets out a sigh. She allows silence to fill the room. She weighs the words she is about to speak, one by one.
"His motives are too deeply rooted in his own remorse, Inquisitor. Varric was a fool to think he could convince him with his own strength alone," the elf stands up, angry. Her face is inches from the witch's. Ainru'Len fights the urge to punch her in the face with all her might.
Morrigan doesn't even blink and continues to speak. 
"Solas alone carries too heavy a burden. He has done so for millennia. A chat between old friends will not be enough to stop him."
Ainur'Len looks angrily into the witch's eyes. She tries to control the trembling of her breath. 
"Solas will not share this burden with anyone, Morrigan," she says, tears in her eyes. 
"If he did, he'd be no better than..." she stops, without breaking eye contact.
“Than who? Morrigan. If you know something, please tell me."
"Do you really wish to uncover the truth, Inquisitor?"
The silence that follows is so heavy that the elf has to take a few steps back, crushed. A strange fear suddenly grows in her stomach, twisting her insides. 
Ainur'Len swallows. The image of Solas holding her close flashes before her eyes. In Haven, in Crestwood, surrounded by fireflies and sparks of magic. When he whispered words of love to her, hands in hands, eyes in eyes. When he could have let her die, eaten by the Anchor, but he had saved her life and confessed his true identity. How many times had she told Varric, calling herself an idiot for not realising it sooner. And how many times had he cheered her up by sharing his love misadventures with her.
"Yes." she says. A fire burns in her eyes. "I have to understand."
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drabblesandimagines · 1 year ago
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Snippets
So, I have a fair few half-finished Clive Rosfield x female reader fics that I thought I'd share some snippets of. The brainrot is back after playing the DLC, so let's put a vote up to see if there's a certain one people are keen to see finished... (and give me the motivation/fear to finish it/them all?)
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---- Winter Mead Your head is pounding as you come round, blinking in the harsh sunlight through the small window. You’re fully dressed and seem to be at the wrong end of your bed – your boots resting on your pillow.
What had you done last night? You blink up at the ceiling a few times, slowly becoming more conscious and aware of how dry your mouth is. Water. You need water.
Cautiously, you slide to sit up, putting one foot down on the ground to hear a soft yelp and you jump back, staring at disbelief as you realise Gav is on your floor.
“I’m up,” he grumbles into the boards. “You don’t have to step on me, like.”
“What are you doing in here?”
“I imagine I passed out after that,” he gestures to the quarter-drank Winter Mead on the side. It was potent, all right.
“Oh, Founder…” You rubbed your temples. There’s a pitcher of water on your desk and a goblet, thankfully. You get up from bed again, careful not to step on Gav, and take the two short steps over, pouring yourself a drink. As the lukewarm water quenches your thirst, you realise the paper all over your desk has half written letters all over them.
Clive,
Please can you kiss me? I promise I don’t bite.
Love, your admirer.
PS: Well, I don’t unless you want me to.
Gav gets to his feet besides you, “Can I have some of that?” When you don't reply, goblet still held up at your lips, his eyes follow your gaze to the discarded letters on the desk. “Fuck me.” ��We didn’t. I didn’t.”
----- Lemon Tarts
“Come on now, I know I have a scarred mug but I’m a nice fella under all that.” Gav – after all, he’s introduced himself several times now – says, softly. He’s crouched down in front of the crevice you’ve squeezed yourself in, huddling your knees. He’s broader than you and his shoulders won’t permit him entry, despite his best efforts.
Your master was harsh in his demands. Sometimes it felt that breathing the wrong way was worthy of a lash from his whip, so however many years ago you’d decided it was better off not talking back and then, eventually, not worth talking at all. It wasn’t like he cared for your opinion either way. Couldn’t get whipped for saying the wrong thing at least.
Then these people had shown up, announcing they were Cursebreakers – whatever they were - that they were here to take you and your fellow three Bearers somewhere safe, bundling you up in a cart and then onto a boat and up a dock, being told you’re going to  escorted to their infirmary to be checked over and it was too much.
You’d ran, ducking from outstretched arms trying to halt you. Being in the middle of a lake, you couldn’t really go anywhere and now as you’d ran, you knew you were going to make whatever punishment awaiting you far worse – at least with your master you knew what to expect, what to brace for…
You’d sequestered yourself in a narrow gap, out of reach.  Numerous people were trying to coerce you out but you ignore them, cuddling your knees in fright.
“You can’t stay in there forever. That’s not a threat, like! I mean, it’s not practical, and not when we’ve a warm bed waiting for you, eh?”
Warm bed…? It’s a trick. Don’t be an idiot.
“Gav, what’s going on?” A gravelly voice draws his attention elsewhere and he ducks back from the opening to talk to someone behind.
You’re trapped, you know you are, and they’ll drag you out of here one way or another eventually but you’re too terrified to move.
“Hello.” The same gravelly voice from before sounds cautious now. You look between your knees to see another broad-shouldered man with shaggy dark hair framing stormy blue eyes, clad in red and black armour, crouched down on a knee to peer into your hiding spot. “My name’s Clive. What’s yours?”
“She doesn’t talk much.” Gav’s voice comes from over his shoulder and Clive turns to face him. “Or ever. That’s what the other Bearers said anyway. They’re all pretty new to the bastard’s service, though. Not sure how long she’s been there – they didn’t know her name either.”
“That’s all right,” Clive turns back, smiling as he catches sight of you peeking at him between your knees. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. We just want to help – I promise.”
He waits, patiently, for a response that you won’t give.
“Please?” He presses on, tenderly. “We have a healer who can treat whatever ails you, and I’ve heard there’s a delicious stew on the menu tonight. Plus Molly, our cook, made some exquisite lemon tarts for afterwards. You can have mine too, if you like.”
---
Trust
“Bearer ran off – she looked terrified. We tried to stop her but I think we frightened her more than anything,” Cole sighed, cursing himself internally. “Her hands were bound too - I’m worried about her being out there alone. If Imperials or a fiend were to find her…”
“Which way did she go?”
“Into the thicket. I was going to go and look for her after we’d got the Bearers to the skiff.”
“You go." Clive folds his arms, forming a plan. "I’ll go look for her. Torgal will help me – won’t you, boy? He has a fine nose.”
Torgal barks, wagging his tail.
--
Your heart is still pounding from the climb where there is bark from below. Between your dangling legs, you see a giant wolf looking up at you.
“Good boy, Torgal.” The dark-haired man rubs the wolf’s head affectionately – is he going to allow him to maul you as a reward? You try and scramble further up the tree but it’s no use, the way your hands are bound prevents you from getting a grip and progressing further.  
“Please, be careful. I do not wish for you to fall, my lady.” The stranger pleads, holding his hands up in surrender.
The concerned tone in his voice would’ve been a clever trick if it wasn’t for the hulking blade strapped to his back, the leathers he’s dressed in, the wolf sat at his heels, panting with hunger.
“Allow me to introduce myself - my name is Clive.” You wish you could scoot back more, hide yourself from his view, but there’s only so much room. “My lady, I know you are frightened, but I swear I’m not here to hurt you. Quite the opposite, in fact - I want to help you. We want to help you. The Bearers you were with, they are safe with my allies back at what we call the Hideaway.”
Hideaway? A cosy name for a prison.
“You’ll be looked after there, your ills seen to. A warm bed, a hot meal every night...”
There’s no such place in this world that would treat a Branded like that. Does he think you’re stupid?
“I would rid myself of this blade if it were to reassure you, but we are in dangerous territory – fiends and Imperial soldiers – so I require it to defend myself, and you, my lady."
-----
The vote will be up for a week, but please let me know what you think in the comments too!
Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi
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emptyheadwriting · 2 years ago
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I Leave This Letter to You, Beloved (Alternative Ending)
Be sure to read CMBIPP and ILTLTYB first for background
Word count:1.3k
Warnings:reader death,talks of suicide, hallucinations, and a funeral
Wednesday’s hands shook rapidly, the letter ruffling from her force. How could she ever live with herself, her brain was tearing itself apart as she cowered further into her seat, terrified to lift her eyes and have them fall upon your lifeless body.
“Please” she whimpered, her hands shooting up to grip the sides of her face in agony. The letter floated down to the floor slowly, wavering sideways on its descent before it finally fell. The paper’s movements ceased, everything seemed to go quiet, until a constant beep filled the room.
It took Wednesday until doctors started to rush into the room to grasp what the noise was and what it meant. “no no no” she said, voice getting louder with each word, “save her, don’t just stand there, save my wife! I’ll kill you, I’ll kill all of you” rage was all she could manage to summon as she stood from her chair and berated the doctors.
No matter her fight, there was nothing she could do, you were no longer there laying on the hospital bed. Only a shell, a body no longer full of life and love remained, and she could do nothing more than collapse over your chest, sobs of how sorry she was pouring from her lips for the rest of the night.
Wednesday Addams the Widow, it was not a title the woman ever hoped to hold when she married you, but as she looked around the small group of people that were standing around the Addams Family graveyard she realized that it has been finalized.
“I am so sorry my storm cloud, I can not imagine how you are feeling” Gomez said honestly as he laid a hand on her shoulder in an attempt of comfort. There would be none from his words or his touch, he only received a dismissive hum.
“I can’t believe she’s gone Wednesday, I thought we would all end up in a retirement home together like we were back in school all over again” Enid said teary eyed, Ajax by her side nodded along silently, his eyes not leaving your casket.
“A ridiculous thought” Wednesday said softly with a shake of her head. She had always envisioned you and herself dying together in your sleep, fading off into nothingness together, intertwined one last time.
Uncle Fester did not bother to say anything on his approach. No he simply stood by her, and snuck his hand around her waist before pulling her into a side hug, the squeeze on his own side telling him all the words of appreciation she would not dare speak, even now after all that had come from not sharing her emotions or caring enough about others.
Wednesday gave one last kiss to your ring before you were lowered into the ground, she shoveled on all the dirt herself as everyone else watched too scared to offer a hand due to the determination on the widow’s brow.
Lurch added your tombstone, and the ceremony was complete, people started to filter out, many leaving a lingering hand across your tombstone on their pass.
Wednesday sat on the grass next to your grave, her sight being overtaken by a shadow as her mother stood over her. “What will you do now my dove?” She asked gently, frowning at the way the her normally stoic daughter’s lip quivered.
The two shared an embrace in front of you before parting, Wednesday had things to do as far as she was concerned.
She flew back to the cabin, packed all of her things. Installed more cameras than there already was and locked all the doors and windows for the last time, for she had quit her job and knew where she needed to go.
She flew to your hometown, she had bought the first house she could get her hands on the day after your death. It was so strange. The place she had never bothered to visit or even really pay attention to a story about your time there, was the place she had decided she would spend the rest of her days.
Wednesday was full of regret at each pleasant moment she had. She visited places she had heard you describe and would breathe them in, cursing herself for never getting to see them with you. She would wake up every morning to sounds that you endlessly compared to those that would fill the cabins walls. You were right when you said those of your hometown were more, gentle a harmony of soft chirps and people starting their days greeted her pale ears.
On one of her firsts nights she decided to order food from the one restaurant you had mentioned before, you had mentioned it once in your time together, how she could remember that from a random parents weekend and not remember to show her wife proper affection and care was a mystery to her.
She unpacked the bag and sat down with your go-to order, and when she looked up across the table she saw you, bloodied, cut up, but with a small smile on your face. She ate a small bite, as her eyes stayed trained on your glimmering image.
“How are you liking all of the things that made me, me?” You asked gently, placing your hands on the table, fingers interlocked with each other.
“I’ve missed your voice” she starts, and looks away at the look of disapproval written on your face, “I know that’s not what you asked, I wanted to express myself is all, I love them all” she says sadly, “I should have experienced them all with you” her eyes finally going back to you.
You shrugged with a laugh, the sound making your wife shudder and nearly moan, it was heavenly, and she wished she had worked harder to hear it while you were still alive, “well I’m dead now, atleast you’ve gotten around to it” a wide smile forms on your lips at the upturn of her lips.
“I could join you” she offers serious, she knows she’s talking to herself, much too smart to not realize that this image of you was only her mind’s doing, but the offer sounds favorable and reasonable to her.
“No my love, you still have so much to do” your voice floats into her ear as your image fades away.
That night after her meal she calls her mom for a favor.
Months have passed since she saw you at her dinner table, she had picked up a few new habits.
The plants by the windows and on the porch grew as best as they could due to her novice gardening skills.
A few drawings were hung around the house. All done in charcoal, her own style of commemorating you in art. Each one was inspired by a part of you, your smile, your eyes, the way you would pull her close, and everything in between.
The most important of all, nightly calls to a crystal ball that was positioned on your gravestone. She would talk about her day, new experiences, and reminisce on your life together.
“I miss you a lot today my love, I saw a little girl at the store, her laugh sounded so much like yours I almost cried, I settled on buying her a candy that her mother refused her”
The private conversation was muffled by the walls and distance between the graveyard and the house, but the Addams Family Manor was a quiet home these days and Morticia and Gomez heard it nonetheless.
“Do you think she will ever stop cara mia?” Gomez asks softly, fingers dancing on his wife’s arm.
“Would you ever stop darling?” She asked with a roll of her eyes, knowing the answer that was to come.
“Of course not” he said like it was the most ridiculous question he had ever been asked.
“then no, she will not stop, she did promise our daughter in law forever after all” Morticia says gently.
Tag List: @wandaszn @thedemoninme141 @oh-thats-cute @jinxscatbomb @glorioushamsterqueen
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airbendertendou · 2 years ago
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best years ♡ kozume kenma + hinata shoyo
soulmate au where on your 18th birthday, two letters show up on your skin, showing the initials of your soulmate. cw ; an abundance of pet-names used , could b ooc , kenma and shoyo are also soulmates
if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.
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——♡——
It’s Akaashi that calls you for that weekend’s plans. You wake up Tuesday morning, expecting nothing new ; nothing out of your every day schedule. The call comes during your lunch, your drink half-way to your lips when Keiji! flashes on the screen.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” A teasing grin is on your lips as you set your drink down. A small laugh echoes from his side of the phone and your grin widens.
“The boys have come up with a plan.” Akaashi replies. He sighs into the receiver and you can see him leaning against his chair so clearly. “They want to get some volleyball players together for a reunion. Ko’s idea, of course. He’s really excited.”
“I can imagine,” you hum. “Why did you call me, then?”
Akaashi lets out a scoff, “you’re invited, obviously.”
“I wasn’t a player, Keiji.”
“No,” he sighs again, “but you were there for every game. You’re an honorary Fukurodani member. Thought you knew that.”
You click your tongue at his flattery. Akaashi pauses and then clears his throat before continuing to speak. “Kenma will be there. And a few out of town players. If that… makes you more interested.”
“You’re horrible!” you whisper into the phone. Biting your bottom lip, you peer around your desk, making sure none of your co-workers are listening in on your conversation. “That was years ago.”
Keiji hums, the sound of his chair squeaking echoes into the receiver — he’s swinging back-and-forth idly, it seems. “So, you’re saying them being there doesn’t influence you in any way?”
You gulp, the two letters on your collarbone burning as your thoughts swirl. You rub them absentmindedly, dazed as high school memories bounce around your mind with the reminder of how it felt to have a crush. How it felt to love freely — to explore the butterflies that trampled in your stomach and to see through the rose-tinted lenses that colored your every move.
But, that was all before your eighteenth birthday ; before your soulmate was revealed.
“If I show up,” you hope Akaashi doesn’t notice how tense your voice sounds now. He doesn’t speak as you pause, allowing you to collect your thoughts. “It’ll be because you asked me. Not anything else.”
His smug grin is audible as he replies, “whatever you say, [name]. I’ll see you then.”
——♡——
Tugging on your outfit of choice, you let out a breath full of nerves as you look over yourself once more. Not a single hair is out of place — all of the accessories you dragged out match perfectly and your shoes are comfortable enough to stand in for a while. A glance at your collarbone reassures you that the powder you smeared across the initials kept it hidden.
One less thing for you to worry about, at least.
A horn honks outside and a grin falls onto your lips as you rush out, hastily throwing your overnight bag in the trunk before falling into the arms that wrap around you. Kuroo grins as he squeezes your waist one last time before opening the door for you. “Been so long, [name]. How did we survive this long?”
You roll your eyes fondly as you click your seatbelt into place. “It’s been, like, three days. We got coffee the other day.”
“So long!” Kuroo whines as he starts his car. In the backseat, Lev is snoozing away on his sister’s shoulder. You send a wave her way, watching as she takes close up, unflattering pictures of Lev’s drooling face. She wiggles her fingers at you excitedly — another hug was coming your way, you knew. “Can’t believe you said yes to ‘Kashi’s invite and not mine.”
“Why would I ever say yes to you?” As the traffic light turns red, Kuroo turns to glare your way. Your giggle harmonizes with Alissa’s easily — the sound takes you back to high school and the games you’d sit at together. “I don’t even get why I’m invited, but whatever.”
Kuroo shrugs, soon pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot. “Think we’re friends and enjoy your company, or somethin’.”
Bokuto is the next one who pulls you into a crushing hug, swaying you side to side as he blubbers about finally seeing you again. You let out a laugh — you’d seen each other a week ago. He was still just as dramatic as Kuroo, it seemed.
A splotch of red catches your attention as more people come to greet you. Hinata Shoyo is at the bar, a grin on his face as he exchanges conversation with the person beside him. He’s just as bright as he’d always been ; just as enticing and pretty as giggles fall from his lips. Your throat suddenly feels dry — was that his soulmate? The one that’s made for him? It had to be ; with the easy conversation and flirtatious touches that were exchanged. 
“[Name],” a voice calls from behind you. He’s soft-spoken ; quiet and nonchalant as a hand rests on your shoulder. Kenma tilts his head, blinking slowly as your throat grows dryer. His hair has grown out, meeting his shoulders as it’s pulled back in a loose bun. “It’s nice seeing you.”
“Hey—” your voice cracks. Clearing your throat, you ignore the heat that rises up your neck and turn to face him fully instead. “Keiji said you were coming, but I wasn’t sure if you ‘d changed your mind.” 
Kenma hums, his hand falling from your shoulder to squeeze your hand lightly before his touch disappears. He sticks his hands in his pockets, golden gaze drifting across the restaurant restlessly. “Thought it would be… interesting to join.” 
A body is slammed into your back within the next second, arms latching onto your torso and squeezing you to them. Kenma grins for a split second before it settles into a small tilt on the right side of his mouth. A nose is nuzzled into your spine, “[name]! I didn’t even see you come in!”
“Hi, Sho,” you breathe. The red head loops around so that he’s holding your front now, his right arm shooting out to gather Kenma into the embrace. “You were— a little preoccupied when I got here.”
The blond across from you smirks at the dip in your voice, scanning your miffed expression and hiding his amusement. You were jealous — clearly — at Hinata and his charms. The red head frowns your way, “really? Still would’ve noticed you, I think.” 
“Guess not,” you grin. Your group gathers, sitting at the largest table that was offered. Laughter and endless chatter bounce off of the walls, drinks clinking together whenever someone would decide it’s time to cheers. Misjudging just how much you were drinking, soon the world was swirling and the colors were blending together. 
“Careful, sweetheart,” Kenma murmurs into your ear. You finish chugging the drink in your hand, beating Atsumu at a drinking contest. “Should start slowing down, hm?”
You shake your head, scrunching your nose, “‘m fine! All good here!”
Hinata chuckles, taking a sip of his own drink as he exchanges a look with the gamer as you gossip with Bokuto. The drinks have officially settled into your system now, blurring the world around you and muting any background noises. Heavy eyes blink at Bokuto as he continues to speak, leaning on the palm of your right hand. Hinata is to your left, finishing up his own drink — the alcohol hadn’t hit him yet [it probably wouldn’t ever] — Kenma sipping on his water to your right.
“Time to head home.” Akaashi calls quietly. He and Kuroo are the other two who are sober, fondly smiling at the rest of you. He taps Bokuto on the shoulder gently, receiving a whine in response. “We’ve rented a house for everyone for the weekend. Figured this would happen.”
Everyone stands up, some leaving to their own homes while the rest follow behind Akaashi diligently. Kenma waits by the door as Shoyo wakes you up, helping you stand. He smiles tenderly at the sleepy pout on your lips, “c’mon, pretty. Time to go.”
“We’ll walk back,” Kenma speaks. His hands are in his pockets again, hair tucked behind his ear as he smiles at the way you’re leaning on Hinata. “Isn’t too far. If you both don’t mind?”
The sky is clear as you walk, a small breeze drifting through the street. The weather is chilly, but warm enough that you aren’t shivering and your teeth aren’t chattering. You grab Shoyo’s hand, lacing your fingers through Kenma’s right after as you start to hum. 
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” you slur out. Swinging your entwined hands, you raise your head so that you’re facing the sky. Kenma shares a grin with the red-head as you continue the children’s song. “Please don’t take my sunshine away.”
“Only hiccuped once, angel.” Shoyo tugs on your hand. You grin his way, eyes closing with how wide you smile. He looks to Kenma, “time for bed for this one, I think.”
Kenma nods fondly as you race to the house that’s come into view, hopping onto a still-drunk Bokuto. He cheers joyfully as the two of you babble — your words have stopped slurring, but you’re still not making much sense. The gamer sighs, “not much has changed, huh?”
Shoyo grins, “not much at all.”
You’re sharing a room with Kenma. Which is completely fine — it’s roomy enough for both of you to be comfortable. But, you still gulp at the thought of him being so close — all night. Hinata is in the room across from yours with Atsumu, the latter already snoring as you bid Shoyo goodnight.
An oversized, older Fukurodani shirt is thrown over your torso, sleep shorts snug underneath as you brush your teeth. Now that the alcohol’s haze is gone, you feel sleepy ; lucid as you get ready for bed.
Kenma is playing with his gaming console when you enter, glancing at you briefly with a smile before looking back down at his game. You nod in agreement — decorating a house or two sounded so fun right now.
But the silence surrounding the both of you wasn’t comfortable. It was tense — eerie — as shy glances were exchanged. You cleared your throat once, then again as Kenma made no move. You pursed your lips, getting a stupid, bad idea, but going with it anyways. 
“Kozume.”
You’re on your back within the next second, blond hair blocking your face from anything else. Kenma is hovering above you, hands on either side of your head.
“Wanna try that again?”
Before you know it, shy giggles are peeling from your lips as your cheeks heat up drastically. The drinks you’d had earlier had melted away — no longer settled in your stomach — but some of the effects still lingered.
“Kenma,” you coo out. He grins at this, peering down at you with a visible flush. You want to curl your arms around his neck ; ache to bring him close enough to taste. You bite your lip instead, “why are you so quiet?”
“I’m always quiet, sweetheart.” You heave in a breath at the pet-name, grin splitting your face into two. Kenma tilts his head, “jus’ thinking of some things.”
“Like what?” As you shuffle, your shirt slips over your shoulder. Your tattoo was now bare for him to see — bare from the powder you’d applied and free for him to look over. It seems to knock the both of you out of your pink bubble, the reminder of soulmates. Kenma scoots onto his knees, eyes on the floor as he grabs his game once more. You frown, fixing your shirt as you sit up. “Um— what are you playing?”
“Unnamed Animal Game.”
“Oh!” you perked up immediately, scooting closer so that you could peer over his shoulder. “I was just about to play that, too.”
Kenma is the one watching over your shoulder now, watching as you chose to design houses instead of play normally. He lets out a snort, “your island is worse than Shoyo’s and he hasn’t been playing as long.”
Sitting up straight, your eyes widen at Kenma’s words. “Shoyo plays this? And hasn’t added me?!” 
You frown, fighting with your blankets to stomp your way to Hinata’s room. Atsumu is still snoring when you creak the door open, the light from Hinata’s phone glowing on his cheeks. He looks up at you and grins, rushing to you quietly as you gesture him your way. Shoyo closes the door behind him, gathering you in his arms before pushing you back to your room gently. “What are we doing? Sleepover? This is so fun!”
“He didn’t bring it with him,” Kenma speaks up, eyes on his game once more. He glances up at both of you with a half-smile, “can’t play with him now.”
“Shoyo!” your voice teeters on the edge of becoming whiny, going up an octave as you flop onto the bed beside Kenma. “You haven’t added me on Unnamed Animal Game? Thought we were closer than that.” To add a dramatic flare, you let out a little sniffle.
Hinata falls onto the bed beside you, pulling you to his chest and giving you a nice squeeze. He’s warm — comforting in every sense of the word as he allows you to settle against him. “Of course we’re close. Maybe not as we were, but…”
A part of you feels bad, knowing you’d just been joking. But, Shoyo’s voice is solemn now, matching the frown Kenma isn’t trying to hide. You look up from his chest, eyes bouncing between the both of them before settling on Kenma’s hands. He’s holding one of Hinata’s, his console long forgotten as he reaches to hold your hand, too. “We can be like that again, you know. People drift and come back all the time.”
“It was right when we got our names, huh?”
You freeze at Kenma’s observation, clutching his hand tighter before letting out a breath and relaxing. Hinata’s thumb rubs against your hip as you sink further into his chest. The blond smiles at you both before speaking again, ”A soulmate shouldn’t keep us from being friends.”
“Or two.” Shoyo says it casually, but you can feel your heart speed up at the implication. He squeezes you once more, his hand tugging Kenma closer. “I— think I have two soulmates. Always have.” 
Your collarbone tingles ; burns as Kenma lays behind you now. Hinata’s right arm is draped around your waist, still clinging to the gamer’s hand. Kenma has let go of your hand in order to snuggle against the back of your neck, drawing you closer with Shoyo’s grip. The blond sighs, “N and S. Those are my letters — that’s my name.”
“K and N,” Shoyo is bouncing his leg now. He taps your hip, “And I’d bet yours is S and K, hm?”
“This is real?” You breathe out. Kenma pulls you closer as Hinata’s hold grows tighter. “We’re soulmates?” A break of silence and then — “how can we be so sure?”
“I think we’ve always known. Unconsciously.” Kenma nods slowly, reassuring himself of what he was saying. “Since we met.”
“But, we can talk more in the morning,” Hinata pulls the comforter over the three of you. You snuggle deeper into his chest as Kenma nuzzles his nose further into your hair. Placing a kiss on your cheek, then leaning over to give the blond one as well, he lets out a content sigh. “I’m pretty sure we’re right, though. Destined, as they say.”
Kenma lets out a chuckle that vibrates all the way down your spine. “Tomorrow, Sho. Sleep now.”
You click your tongue, ready to argue even though your eyes have slid shut. “What do you know about sleeping early?”
Hinata lets out a giggle before settling down. “Shh! Goodnight now, my loves!”
——♡—— this got sm longer than i expected it to?? but we're halfway done i think! airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.
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yousaydisco · 4 months ago
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Scrapped bit of a Vicky/Kim fic I started thinking about. 1.1k words, basically unedited, warning for minor internalized homophobic language. Also warning for it not being good but I was too attached to just throw it away completely
(and I'm working on my next Cunoesse fic I promise I just got distracted by this idea. Both will come eventually)
Here are the facts of the situation: her feet are sore, her head hurts, and she's drunker than she planned on being since she's been here for an hour and a half without finding anyone to go home with. Something that she was really, really looking forward to tonight since it's been more than a month since she got Friday night off and she's fucking lonely.
And what does she do when she's lonely? Well, tonight she squeezed into the black cocktail dress that's just a little too small (it works wonders on her tits but she's constantly tugging it down when it attempts to ride up to the tops of her thighs), got dolled up with makeup and the blonde wig and made her way down to the one bar within walking distance of her place that has space for not just the cocksuckers but the gender freaks too. A bar that's partially underground (because the fucks that designed the space weren't known for their subtly, she guesses) and the inside is perpetually on the dark side. Makes it that much easier to leave yourself at the door and be someone else for the night, someone who is safe in the shadows.
She should have known that tonight was a bust when she first walked in and there was barely anybody there but she had reached a point where it felt like if she didn't get fucked immediately she would lose her mind last week, so she stayed. Convinced that it could pick up. She doesn't consider herself a particularly picky lover and truth be told she would go home with damn near anyone that approached her first. And if they happened to have qualities that she could easily imprint on her personal fantasies - dark hair, sinewy frame, glasses - well, that would make the night all the more sweeter for her.
"Fuck it," She slides off a bar stool and almost face-plants on the dirty bar floor but thankfully doesn't. The bartender only gives her a brief look of concern when she pays her tab and then she's stumbling out the door.
Maybe she should call it a night, it's not like she needs any help feeling desperate and pathetic. Or maybe she should walk a couple of blocks down and walk into The Lounge. Most likely they would turn her away at the door but if they don't, she imagines walking in the room and everyone going silent. Then she'll pick out the biggest man there, the one who looks like he's repressing the most, and then hem and haw after him until he gets pissed enough to kick her teeth in. And if she's lucky -
"Oh shit," she says when she almost collides with someone coming in as she's going on. It causes her to stumble, again, stupid fucking heels, and the man instinctively puts a reassuring grip on her forearm to help keep her standing. Before "sorry," could leave her lips though, the man spoke with a voice so familiar it caused her to radically sober up.
"Jean?" In any other context hearing the way that name sounds in the lieutenant's voice, the way his accent curls around the letters, would cause her to shudder. Especially since he never uses her first name. But in this context, it's more like a confirmation that she was caught in a trap.
It is the first time she's been grateful that her name is so boring and common. She suspects everyone there is named Jean for the night.
Even him, probably, but that would mean acknowledging that he's here. At her bar. Where it's usually crawling with pansies and bulldykes and no one at their place of work would ever be caught dead even walking on the same side of the street. But here he is, looking damn good too. No bright orange in sight and instead a tight, dark green turtle neck and dark pants that accentuate his slimness. He's here for the same reason she is and by Dei that knowledge is going to fuel her daydreams for the next few years. Probably until she dies in the line of duty. Previously she could only dream of him wearing the same clothes he comes to work in every day but now she has seen him in casual clothing and her fantasies can be accurate.
"Evening, sir." She is somehow able to stand up straight. Kitsuragi keeps a firm hand on her bicep though, providing support. Even though it's unneeded she can't bring herself to tear it away. "I was just leaving. Enjoy a drink on me."
There is a brief moment, perhaps still from the shock of seeing her in her getup, where he finally lets go of her and lets her leave. Then, like the fucking drunk idiot she is, she stumbles again before walking out the door.
"Let me walk you home." His tone made it clear that he wasn't asking her permission.
"Whatever gets your rocks off then," she chalks up the next words to the fact that her superior officer is seeing plastered off her ass in the sluttiest dress she owns and a part of her is so convinced that her career (fuck, her entire life) is over. She leans down close to his face to quietly whisper "lieutenant."
They start the walk back to her place in silence. They're more than halfway there before Kitsuragi clears his throat.
"The dress - "
"I'd rather not talk about it." She swiftly cuts in. "I like what I like and I'll leave it at that."
He nods in understanding and continues. "It's riding a little high, is all."
Sure enough, all the walking has caused it to ride high again. It's practically bunched up at her waist, paper-white and pock-marked thighs on full display to the world. She tugs the dress back down. "Thanks."
For the rest of the walk, the only sound that accompanies them is her heels clicking and his heavy boots thudding the concrete.
The night air is warm. The smell of electricity and petrichor surrounds them. She's half tempted to make small talk about the weather but that would break the silent tension built between them as if she threw a plate at the wall behind his head. Anyway, she's terrible at being likable even when she's sober. So she says nothing until they reach her front door.
"Would you look at that, I didn't pass out and drown in a gutter on the way home." She comically battered her eyelashes at him as if to add 'all thanks to you'. "Now you can go back and buy an overpriced drink with the same three schmucks that have been there the whole night."
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miatsai · 11 months ago
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update to the sky!
I dropped a mailing letter recently! It has some of my fated lovers playlist in it! Plus a rundown of what I've been doing in my time away from socials, like . . . writing. And more writing. And life stuff. Here's the archive: https://buttondown.email/miatsai/archive/
Speaking of the fated lovers, I went back and reread my nano from last year and I like it. Oh my God, I like it. it needs a lot of work, but still. I think I like the worldbuilding just as much as I like all the sex, because yes, this is a romantasy, but it's also my love letter to government and civics and politics, so there will hopefully be some good Game of Nations-type stuff in there. I'm also flirting with POV; I've got omniscient present, but also third past and maybe, maybe, even second past.
And, really, who can resist reincarnated lovers? I know it's gauche to drop snippets, but I think I'll put a tiny one under the cut. This is nowhere near final, just vomit draft stuff, but the vibes are pretty immaculate, imo.
This is the ending where they live.
That’s what Teya thinks as she lies beside Isi, her eyes closed, careful to put a small pause at each end of her breaths so Isi won’t suspect anything. She repeats it to herself even as she considers the mostly empty glass of water beside the bed and how easily she could break it, drag its transparent fineness across Isi’s neck before the other woman could finish flinching herself awake. Just as easily, Teya could slash that edge down her forearms and join Isi in the spiritual cloud beyond the physical world, waiting for the dual comets to once again light the sky, heralding their return.
The pain wouldn’t even register. It’d be a small thing, a speck against the unfathomable, infinite hollow that would be a life without Isi. Teya can imagine herself doing it: two movements, efficient, fast, driven by the conviction that the only anguish worse than learning your loved one is dead is the knowledge that you delivered the killing blow.
But this is the ending where they live. Isi, too, is thinking this as she reaches out for Teya, her pale, theorem-tattooed arm coming to a rest on Teya’s sun-darkened shoulder. Isi’s apartment is thirty-four stories up, with a big picture window that overlooks the carved dunes of the Sea of Sand bordering the city. The theorem she etched into her left arm speaks of space and time and gravity, of how simple a task it would be for Isi to divert the ground’s pull from Teya so that she could be lifted, how Isi could hold Teya in her arms, then crash through the window, manipulating mathematics so intricate as to be magic to triple their weight and streak swift and final to the ground before Teya can call the wind spirits to her and fly.
Teya opens her eyes and turns her head to face Isi. She skims her fingertips across Isi’s skin, following the line of her arm to her shoulder, then her collarbone, then to the thin, single-link hoviren chain on which a coin of skyglass is strung. Teya takes the coin between her fingers, watching as the glass brightens from space-black to azure. She remembers it: the old magic and how Isi wielded it so many lifetimes ago, reborn each time with her like a breath upon an ember.
“We live,” Isi whispers. Her chest aches. “The stars have seen it.”
Once a diviner, always a diviner. Teya returns the coin to Isi, pressing it against her skin, where it darkens to a star-speckled black. “I want you to be right.”
Isi threads her fingers through Teya’s, squeezing hard enough for it to hurt, bone meeting bone. “The sun is almost above the horizon. If we don’t get a call in the next five minutes . . .” She doesn’t have to finish the sentence. Teya already knows: Peace will have been brokered. Teya won’t be called to the front lines to be a hammer for Onorria. Isi won’t become the Farundian anvil Teya will strike, over and over and over again until they’re both ruined and left to try again in the next life. Until they lie beside each other, much like the way they are now, eyes locked on eyes, watching the other’s life gutter and fade.
“Five minutes.” Teya doesn’t disguise the hope in her voice. She brings her hand, still entwined with Isi’s, to her lips, and kisses their knuckles. “Watch the sun rise with me.”
As they did thousands of years ago, at the turn of the new year, sitting in the doorway of their tent as the river of stars that swept away the Cloud grew thick and drew the Mare, her head tossing, toward the heavens. As they have done in all their lifetimes since, each time waiting for the signal that spells their mutual doom.
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aizawasbrattyprincess · 2 years ago
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l a t e  n i g h t  m e t r o
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f!reader x vinsmoke sanji (op)
tw: nsfw + non-con + chikan + public sex + breeding + stalking + voyeurism 18+ MINORS DNI
word count: 1.4k
a/n: Shhh I know this is late + I know I said every Friday (sorry!). Anyway, our man Sanji will never violate a woman but in this modern AU Kinktober #3 fic, he just can’t help himself. As usual, don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with this! Thanks for all the support and hoped you guys have a great Kinktober.
⋆ Kinktober Masterlist
buy me a ko-fi?
゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。+。゜*゜。゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。+
00:27
Checking your wristwatch, you heaved a sigh of relief. You had made it to the station to catch the last train home with a few minutes to spare. Usually, you wouldn’t have left the office after midnight, always having to squeeze in between all sorts of nasty and inconsiderate people during the rush hour. If it wasn’t for your idiot boss who dumped a stack of last-minute paperwork on your desk, leaving you no choice but to work unpaid overtime, you would’ve been in bed by now, all snuggled and ready to get some sleep before your alarm rang promptly at six a.m. You needed to quit your job fast, and you were tempted to write your resignation letter as soon as you got home. Your mood further soured when the sudden gust of wind made you shiver. In your haste to leave, you had forgotten to wear your jacket left hanging on your chair, and your short pencil skirt wasn’t helping much. You knew you should’ve worn pants.
Your eyes wandered around the station platform, noticing a few others waiting while glued to their devices. No one stood out, but the same uneasy feeling returned. It was as if someone was watching you from afar. This had been going on for two weeks, at the same station every time you got off work. You had confided in a trusted friend, but that was it. There wasn’t any evidence that someone was watching you, and even if they did, you couldn’t report them to the police for staring. Reaching into your shoulder bag, you pulled out your phone and pretended to text. It was dead, and you didn’t have a portable charger. Hopefully, you won’t need your phone. With the train approaching, you shook it off and took a deep breath. There was no use overthinking; you were probably imagining things from being tired and paranoid.
Stepping into the nearly empty train carriage, you decided to stand near the opposite doors and watch the moving skyline, hoping it would calm you down. It did, for a little while, until you felt stray hands lightly touching your hips. Shit, shit, shit, why did you let your guard down? Alarmed and tensed up, you tried to push the hands away, only for them to snake around your waist, holding you tighter. You caught a whiff of strong cologne and cigarette smoke from the body pressed against yours.
“Finally, I was worried I didn’t see you today. You didn’t tell me you were getting off work this late. It’s not safe, darling,” a male voice whispered.
You timidly looked at the reflection in the windows. The male, his blond hair covering the right side of his face, was much taller than you and dressed elegantly in a black, double-breasted suit with a pinstripe shirt underneath. He was handsome and a hundred per cent your type; you would’ve easily said yes to a date with him. However, his eyes were glazed with nothing but lust. There was no denying he was your stalker, and you needed to get yourself out of there.
“Let go of me,” you demanded, but your voice sounded small over the sounds of the moving vehicle running along the tracks.
He let out a chuckle. Letting you go would be the last thing he’d ever do. He had been waiting to get you for so long — the endless nights he spent thinking about you, dreaming of having you in his arms. He knew he had to have you the minute he laid eyes on you. 
“You look so pretty today, wearing a little skirt like this. You really do know what I like, hmm?”
His right hand slid between your thighs, spreading them open and then caressing you slowly. You frantically tried to squirm out of his grasp but to no avail while trying to get the attention of someone else who could help you. However, the only other passenger was at the far end of the carriage, sleeping in his seat with headphones on, his heavy metal music on blast. You felt helpless as he continued to hike your skirt further up, his fingers running along your clothed slit. You were wet, though you’d never thought you’d be. Shaking your head in raw panic and denial, you begged him to stop as tears began to prick the corner of your eyes.
“Shh, hey, no crying now. Just relax for me and listen to your body,” he coaxed, pushing your panties to the side. “I’ll make you feel good. Promise you that.”
You bit your bottom lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of entertaining him. However, at the first feel of his long fingers dipping inside you, you arched your back involuntarily, and a sweet little cry escaped your parted lips. God, you were so intoxicating. He thought it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. His fingers moved in and out rapidly, wanting to see you come undone before him. Unable to hide his impatience, his other hand practically ripped the top buttons off your blouse before unclasping your bra to fondle your breast. He softly sucked on your nape while his fingers pinched and twisted your sensitive nipple, bringing you to the edge and back. You could barely register anything, the overwhelming euphoria beginning to fog your mind. This man was violating you, yet you enjoyed it, willingly submitting to him. 
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me- Shit, I can’t take it any longer. I need you. I need to feel you.”
He took his fingers out of you, leaving you empty for a brief second before his thick cock sunk inside you. He had been so excited that he had forgotten to use the condom he had brought in his trousers pocket. You screamed out in pain and pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head. He was too big for you, but he assured you with endless praises and kisses that you could take him. All you could do was press your palms onto the windows for support, legs trembling and your walls clenching tightly around him as he drove hard and fast into you. Deep, guttural groans filled your ears while his fingers circled your clit skilfully. 
“Sanji,” he said suddenly, starting to pant. He was reaching his limit, and he knew you were too. “Fuck, darling, need you to moan my name.”
He flipped you around, clumsily pulling down your panties before hoisting you up, your bag falling to the floor. His pace remained unrelenting, and you instinctively wrapped your arms and legs around him, needing to feel closer to him. Pleasantly surprised that you had kissed him first, Sanji returned your kisses with more passion and hunger. And then, you shamelessly cried his name as you both orgasmed, his cock pulsing within your walls as his warm seed filled you up completely. He stayed inside you for a good minute, ensuring his cum wouldn’t spill out before helping you wear your stained panties. He then removed his blazer, letting you wear it to cover up your body.
“I don't want to let you go, but that’s all the time we have,” Sanji said, reaching to caress your cheek. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow at five. Don’t be late again. All right, darling?”
You hadn’t realised that you were almost reaching your stop and that the man in the carriage had woken up long ago, no longer listening to his music. Looking up at the blonde, you found yourself nodding obediently, not knowing what else to say or do. Did you really want to see him again? And were you actually looking forward to the next meeting?
There was a brief automated announcement, and the train doors opened. Giving you a peck on the cheek, Sanji wished you good night and a safe trip home before handing you your bag and gently pushing you out. You awkwardly stayed on the platform, adjusting your clothes as you watched the train leave and disappear into the night. The ache wouldn’t go away no matter how much you tried to ignore it, and you hated yourself for that. Your mind was hazy, but the answer was clear: you wanted him.
Back on the train, the satisfied Sanji plopped himself in the seat next to the other passenger with a loud sigh, unable to get you off his mind. Perhaps he should’ve followed you home after all.
“She’s that good, huh?” the other man asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yeah, I told you she’s perfect. I bet you enjoyed the show, jerking off to how cute she sounds. She’s irresistible and so needy. She’ll be begging for more, I’m sure of it.”
The man shrugged. “Well, I guess I’ll see for myself how good she takes my cock tomorrow.”
“Don’t get me wrong, Marimo,” Sanji laughed dangerously, barely suppressing his anger. “I’m not planning on sharing what’s mine.”
゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。+。゜*゜。゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。+
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sammy-is-not-smiley · 2 years ago
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Report Card Reaction
Eddie Munson × gn!reader
Summary: When the sight of your report card causes you to spiral, a certain someone finds you and takes it upon himself to try and help.
Word Count: 1.9k
Warnings/tags: No use of (y/n), crying, stress, kind of a panic attack, mentions of physical abuse at home, mentions of overdrinking, pet names (sweets, baby, etc), language, hurt/comfort because it's all I think about, small bit of pining from Eds
A/N: You thought you could get rid of me that easily huh
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It was the last miserable class of the day. At the end of it, you'd finally be free to go home. You were itching to close up in your room with a Coke and listen to that brand new music album you'd been waiting to come out for so long. Your mind was one tracked, that was until it was announced 10 minutes before the bell that your semester report cards would be passed out.
When you received yours, you were apprehensive to open the white envelope. Biting your thumb nail as you stared at it, the bell eventually rang and pulled you out of the classroom. Walking down the emptying hall, you finally sighed and decided to rip it open. You'd have to at some point, so might as well.
Everything looked fine as you stepped outside, As and Bs in a neat pattern… That is, until your eyes fell on your biology and physics grades. The letters stared back at you boldly, as if to point and laugh at you.
BIO: C+
PHYS: D
No. Hello no. Something had to have been calculated wrong, you tried so hard this semester. Your absolute best, in fact, and somehow it still hadn't been enough…
You could feel the anxiety bubbling up from your gut into your chest. Your hand squeezed into a fist when you realized your parents would be seeing the report too. Your father would be seeing it. If not from you, then from the copy that would come in the mail. Last time you had a grade this bad, your father had absolutely lost his shit in a drunken stupor. And this time, you had two grades gone bad, not just one.
Tears began to uncontrollably well up as your heart rate quickened painfully. Hastily, you scurried away from the other students and to a small alley between the high and middle school buildings. Your back slammed against the brick, as if you were trying to knock a sense of calm back into you before you lost it, but it didn't help. Tears spilled over and ran down your face without your consent, your breathing now going in and out in short bursts. You began to feel dizzy and let yourself slide down into a squat against the wall, hands covering your mouth in shame.
Some of the books you had held tumbled out of your lap and onto the sidewalk. You didn't try to catch them. Going home didn't feel like an option anymore. Not even for that new album. All you could imagine was how loud your father would yell, how many times he might push you into the wall or hit you in the head asking in a mock if you really are stupid. How hard he might squeeze your arm, or how much he might have drank that day if anything. There was no telling what could happen once you crossed the threshold and closed the door to that house tonight, and that scared the ever living shit out of you.
The circulating thoughts pushed more and more sobs out of you, the damn report card clutched tightly in hand at your side. You didn't know how long you stayed in that position, but you didn't care if you ended up spending the night there on the cold concrete.
The nearby exit out of your view eventually opened and you heard a group of boys emerge, laughing. Footsteps began to draw closer.
"Wheeler, get that new sheet to me by Friday or I'm coming for your a-" A tall figure was cut off as he sharply turned the corner and stumbled right over your books on the ground, narrowly missing you. "Ah, shit, sorry, sorry," He muttered as he turned around and began picking up your books, believing he had knocked them from you. It was then you looked up through your tears and recognized who it was: Eddie Munson.
Eddie looked up with an apologetic smile, offering your books when he froze, face now laced with concern. "Woah, what's wrong? You okay, sweets? Did I hurt you?"
Embarrassed, you shook your head and swiped your books from him, averting your gaze. "I'm fine," You managed to croak as you put your things next to you on the ground.
The boy rested a hand on his knee as he kneeled in front of you. "Okay well… don't take this the wrong way but you don't look fine."
You simply shook your head again in response, wiping your nose with your jacket sleeve. You could feel him staring but you still refused to meet his gaze.
He adjusted himself to sit cross-legged in front of you. "What's goin' on? You're not usually like this."
That made you look at him, confusion etched your brow. "Not usually?"
"Oh, well, you know…" He hesitated, beginning to fiddle with a front strand of his hair, eyes darting. "I have a few classes with you. You're not usually so… down… let alone like this."
You remembered him from your classes, but never once did you think he ever took note of you or your mood. The observation felt odd. A good kind of odd, but odd nonetheless.
You sniffled, looking down at your hands. "Good day gone bad," You muttered, fighting a new wave of tears.
He scooched slightly closer. "Hm. What made it bad?"
You looked down at your crumpled report card still in your hand and lazily, you held it out to him to see for himself.
He took it, straightening out the wrinkles before reading. "Hon, I don't see why you're-... oh."
You scoffed bitterly. "Yeah, oh."
His eyes darted back and forth from you to the page. "If it's any consolation, I've had my fair share of bad grades. They're not entirely the end of the world. Plus, it's only the first semester, you have time to bump those babies up, no problem." He attempted a hopeful smile. His eyes scrunched just slightly too cheery.
You shook your head. "Bad grades don't scare me… it's my fucking dad I'm scared of. When he sees those he'll-" You stop, having to stifle a small sob.
His hand shot up and squeezed your shoulder at the sight. "Hey, it's okay. Everything will be okay. What, does he take your door off from the hinges or something," He half jokes, attempting to lighten the mood. Only after he says it does he regret it.
Your face scrunched up and you wove your hands through your hair. "Worse. So, so much worse." You whisper through more tears and chattering teeth. They just won't stop flowing.
Eddie pauses a moment, then moves your books from your side to sit in their place, facing you. "Worse? Baby, how bad-" He stops himself, a thought occurring to him. "Does he like…. Does he... hit you?" He asks in almost a whisper. However, with how close he's leaning in, you hear it clearly.
In response, you cover your face with your hands, somehow managing to cry harder. Helplessly, you just give him a slow nod. You can't bring yourself to confess any further though, you doubt it would even come out coherent.
You hear him sigh as he leans back and stares down at your report card once more, as if he could will the grades to change themselves. He felt a familiar twinge in his chest, one that he felt when he first wanted to recruit Dustin and Mike into Hellfire. One he felt when Chrissy sat across from him with fear in her eyes. Empathy, he supposed it was. Or maybe he just saw himself in the kids, in Chrissy, even in you.
He turned, back to the wall, and drew you into him in an embrace.
Without thinking, you leaned yourself in, hands falling down and face pressed into his shirt.
Softly he drifted his hand over your arm, trying to soothe you down from the panic shaking your frame. He didn't even care that he felt your tears soak his shirt or that the brick was jabbing at his shoulder blade.
Eventually your body began to give out, hitting some sort of limit, and the tears began to slow. Your breath still violently hitched, but the sobs had subsided. Only then did you truly come to realize your position. Your were curled up in the soft clutch of the Freak of Hawkins High… Yet you found you couldn't have felt safer. His warmth, his smell, his voice… it was doing something.
Eddie waited patiently until you had calmed down a little more before he chose to speak again. "Hey, I have an idea…" He lawled his head to the side to look down at you. "You still with me, babe?"
"Mm-hm."
His lips twitched into a small smile. Your voice had been reduced down to the smallest and meekest he's ever heard it. While it broke his heart to see you like this, he couldn't help but think your response was cute. "What if… I came to your house to be there when you show your old man the report card, hm? That way maybe he doesn't react so bad."
Eddie knew he couldn't prevent whatever would happen once he left the house, but he wanted to at least get you home safe for the night and get the ice broken to your parents about your grades. Let the initial worst of it happen while he could be there to back you up. As badly as he wanted to just let you stay the night at his place, he knew it would only make things worse. If anything happened tonight after he left, then he could support you at school tomorrow. In fact, that's what he decided he would do from now until graduation. He knew the fear that could be instilled from a father, and he also knew what it was like to deal with it alone.
Slowly, you pushed yourself up from him and looked at him with confused, puffy eyes. "Bring you to my house?"
"Yeah, you know… uh say… we have some project together. And you need to give me something for it that you forgot to bring to school," He shrugs.
To his dismay, you fully sat up in front of him, wiping at your face with your sleeve. "Look, Eddie… no offense but have you seen you?" You knew Eddie wasn't as scary as he looked, but your parents certainly didn't know that. "They'll think I'm going to join a cult or something."
Eddie waved his hand. "Ah, old fake news anyway. Also, which is worse? Them seeing me or your grades?"
You chuckled and nodded, letting out a sigh. "Maybe you'll distract from the grades."
A smile spread over Eddie's face. "That's the spirit, baby. So it's a plan?"
You nodded again, "Yeah, it's a pl-" You jolt suddenly, glancing out to the parking lot, then to your watch. "Aw shit."
"What?"
"The busses," You groaned. "I freaked out so long I missed my bus."
"Oh, that's no problem," Eddie grunted as he began to stand. "Hitch a ride with me. Meshes well with the super special plan we brewed anyway." He smirked and held his hand out to help you up.
"You have a car?" You ask as you take his hand. He yanks you upright with ease.
He gathers your things from the ground. "Um, well, a van, but yeah. She's a beaut, you gotta see her." He smiled proudly, making you genuinely smile back. The sight makes him beam even brighter. "Come on, wanna get you home before dark." He takes your hand, carrying your books and report card for you, and leads you into the parking lot where a lone rusty van is parked.
This is not at all what you expected from this evening.
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dracowars · 3 years ago
Text
distraction | draco malfoy
pairing: draco x slytherin!reader
word count: 3,2k
summary: where y/n needs to study, but not with draco
a/n: i wrote this before i got my first ever request and since then it disappeared in my drafts, so here you go, have one of my super super old imagines
warnings: angst, slightly suggestive
universe: harry potter
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Completely exhausted, you drop onto your seat at the Slytherin table and put one of your books next to your plate. You cannot believe that you have to study so much again while the last exams were only a month ago; at least it felt like that. On top of that your teachers do not really care about the upcoming tests and give you twice as much homework than usual. Hogwarts is definitely getting harder every year.
Unfortunately, your parents have very high expectations, which basically means you have to get at least into the top five in each course or you will be disinherited. Your parents, both pureblood, were at Hogwarts as well and were always battling for the highest scores. So, your name is not alien to anyone here, especially not the teachers, who put additional pressure on you because they assume that you are like your parents.
Just last week you were asked to demonstrate the Patronus Charm in front of everyone in Charms class because Professor Flitwick is more than convinced of your abilities. You, on the other hand, beg to differ, which is why the spell went terribly wrong and costed you ten house points, making you look like a fool to everyone. Today, Professor Snape thought it would be a good idea to make you explain all of the ingredients to the class that you worked out in your homework - which you, by the way, sat on until the early morning hours. Of course, that also went wrong and now you have to do the homework all over again, this time correctly.
You do not know if you would rather cry or scream right now, but you definitely do not feel like eating. You sluggishly push the little food your best friend Blaise kindly put on your plate back and forth with a small sigh. Instead of eating you then decide to open up your book for Herbology and take a look inside, but no matter how many times you re-read the letters and sentences, you just do not understand them.
As you are about to read over the whole page again, you suddenly feel a hand on your right shoulder and a warm breath on your neck shortly afterwards. "Hello, beautiful", he whispers in your ear and places a gentle kiss on your cheek before he sits down on the bench closely next to you. "How was class?", he asks you with a small smile while shoveling food on his own plate.
Actually, you and your boyfriend Draco almost share all courses, but there are a few expectations. Of course, there are advantages and disadvantages to having classes with him, but you still prefer to have him with you. In fact, you like to always have him by your side. Except while studying. Because if Draco and you study together, - or attempt to - you end up not learning anything at all. Ever.
"Do not even get me started", you answer, and his gaze immediately shoots from his plate to you, concern covering his attractive features. His shining gray eyes examine you precisely and he lays his hand on yours which is still on your opened book. He gently strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. "What happened? Trouble?", he asks worriedly, knitting his eyebrows.
Draco knows very well how you are treated by the teachers and by your parents, he witnessed it more than once. At some point you just could not take it anymore, so you told him everything and he understood instantly, just silently holding you close while you poured out your heart to him. He always understood you. And that is why he also understands the look you are giving him now right away and he nods understandingly, giving you a reassuring smile and squeezing your hand before starting to eat.
In return, you give him an absent smile and examine his gorgeous side profile for a moment while he talks to Goyle and then focus back on learning. "What are you reading, love?", Draco asks you interestedly and takes a look at the book, still chewing on some bread. In disbelief, he immediately sinks it down when realizing what the book is about. "Are you studying for the exams already?"
You nod insecurely and fiddle around with your hands in your lap nervously. "You cannot be serious, Y/N!", he scolds you loudly, a few other Slytherins looking over at you two now. He always scolds you when you overwhelm yourself with all of the learning. You do not eat or sleep for days and it breaks his heart because you never let him help you. You always tell him that 'you have to do this on your own because nobody will help you later in life either'. But that is not true; Draco will always help you. Because he plans to never leave your side in your whole life.
"I am sorry, okay? Not everyone can be as smart as you and learn everything within a few hours", you grumble at him unintentionally, the pressure taking control over your words. You can immediately see how his whole expression falls, making you regret what you said. "You know that is not true. It is not always easy for me either", he mumbles without any emotion in his voice. "If only you would let me help you, Y/N. For once."
You do not answer the platinum blonde boy, only looking into his gray eyes as he waits for you to say anything. "I did not mean what I said..", you apologize after coming up with the right words. "Maybe you are right. Maybe I should really stop learning so much."
You could see the hope lit up in his eyes for a second as he probably thought that you would let him help you, but you just can't. You cannot risk your grades anymore just because you want to spend time with him. The last time you did, you landed – beside Draco’s bed - on seventh place in one of your courses and that was already enough to enrage your parents to the fullest. You perfectly know where letting him help you study ends. It always does.
For Draco, it is still a step forward since you want to take more care of yourself through learning less. "I know you did not mean it. Do not worry about it, everything will be fine", he cheers you up, running his hand over your soft hair and then placing a kiss on your forehead gently, a lovely gesture that always cheers you up.
What he does not know, however, is that you lied to him.
That night you stayed up extra long to get the learning material into your brain and the next morning not only your head but also your hand is hurting terribly from all the writing. On top of that, you only did a power nap and then sneaked out of the common room - luckily, Draco never wakes up early and also was easy to convince yesterday evening that you did not want to sleep in his room that night - and into the Great Hall very early in the morning, where you have been until now.
Because there is not a single student or teacher yet, the tables are completely empty, giving you enough space to study. Books and parchment are lying around everywhere. It takes some time before the first students and teachers enter the Great Hall for breakfast, but nobody really pays attention to you. After all, it is very common for students to study here.
As soon as you see Draco and his friends coming through the large arch into the hall, you do not waste any time and quickly use Reducio to downsize your books and stow them in the pockets of your cloak, your wand with it. Draco spots you sitting at the table and you give him a tired smile as he comes to you.
"Good morning, baby", you greet him and give him a soft peck on his lips. "I thought we had agreed that we would go to breakfast together today? I have been waiting for you the whole time until Pansy had to check your room, only to see that you were already gone", Draco explains, disappointment prominent in his still rough, groggy morning voice. "Oh.. I am so sorry, Draco. I totally forgot! I woke up early and thought I would already go ahead", you lie, even though you perfectly know that it is not true. You just do not want to worry him even more.
"Did you sleep at all?", he questions your statement, his hands cupping your cheeks as he takes a close look at you. By the dark circles under your sleepy eyes, he can definitely tell that you hardly slept, but you are quick to escape from his stare, lowering your head and hiding your face. He pulls his hands back and sighs deeply.
"Fine. Then do not talk to me", he rolls his eyes, and you can literally feel how disappointed and hurt he is. Before you can say anything else, Draco buzzes off and sits down next to Crabbe at the table and not where you always sit together. When Draco is mad, you know that it is best to leave him alone for now, and that is exactly what you are going to do. You sadly walk past them and out of the Great Hall without even the tiniest bit of food in your system.
You make your way to the library, a quiet and pleasant place to study and, above all, no one to distract you. Because Draco hates the library. He would never go in here voluntarily, so it is the perfect place for you to learn. When you enter, Madam Pince looks at you with wide eyes and then takes a look at the clock. She frowns and watches as you sit down at one of the tables in the last corner of the library. You enlarge your books again and without further ado, start learning until it is time to go to class.
You do not get to see Draco in the hallways all day, only in a few classes where he keeps ignoring you. Any other day, you would try anything to make him stop, but it is probably better that way right now. At least then you can learn and write a good exam in a few weeks. Still, every time you look in his direction, your heart aches.
After you are done with school for the day in the late afternoon, you do not go to the Slytherin common room like everyone else, but rather back to the library, where other students are now as well. You choose the loneliest table in the last corner again and make yourself comfortable.
You have already written three pieces of parchment and got through one chapter of your Herbology book when you hear someone come closer, throwing a shadow on your table. "Is this chair still free?", the person asks and because you are so focused on your learning, you absently nod while writing down an important information with your quill.
You perceive how the student sits down and puts books on the relatively small table as well, which is why you pull your stuff in your direction a little to make room. All of a sudden, you feel a hand on top of yours and as you look up at this very moment, you meet a pair of beautiful gray eyes in which you have lost yourself so often.
"Draco?", you bring out, too bewildered by the situation. "Why are you here? I thought you would go to the common room", you add and look down at your books insecurely. He caught you.
"That is not a very nice way to greet your lovely boyfriend, is it?", Draco scoffs and opens up his books, taking a quill into his hand while you can only watch him. You furrow your eyebrows as he dips it into the ink and starts writing on a piece of parchment himself.
"What? Can't I study like you always do?", he grumbles, the exact same way as you did this morning, and answers the question in your head before you could even say it out loud. Within a second you pack up your things before you get up from the chair and grab your bag. However, before you can even walk away, you are quickly stopped by Draco grabbing your wrist tightly and pulling you back. "You will stay here, Y/N", he grinds his teeth.
"Please, Draco. You know exactly how important it is for me to get good grades. And when we.. when we learn together it never works! I love you so much, Draco, with all of my heart, but we really cannot study together", you explain, not daring to look at him. You feel his grip on your wrist weaken and when you do look at him, his heartbroken gaze hurts you more than you expected.
"Are you serious, Y/N? Do you really think that I do not know you? After all these years? Of course I sometimes annoyed you in between when we were studying before. Maybe I distracted you, too. But I only did it because I wanted to take the pressure from you for a second, to see you smile at least once during that time and I never did it before an important test. I would not do that, especially because I know what it means to you. It truly is a shame that you have never noticed. I have and will always support you, Y/N. But you never allow me to. I know you have trouble in some subjects that I am actually good at. Why do you not let me help you?", Draco utters, still a little furious about your behavior towards him.
His words hit you more than you thought they would. He just wanted to help and all you ever did was pushing him away from you. You feel absolutely terrible. All the pressure was too much for you, but you did not want to accept it, wanted to accomplish your goal on your own when he could have been by your side the whole time. He would have helped you if you had only allowed it. Now, you do not know what to say or how you can make it up to him.
"D-Draco..", you stutter, not believing how stupid you were. "Can you just stop being a stubborn and sit down with me, please?", he interrupts you, reaching out his hand to you which you gladly accept and sit back down on your chair, your hands still intertwined on the table. "That was not that hard, was it?", Draco gently smiles, taking your hand in between both of his, squeezing it tight like you're about to run away from him again. "You always told me to open up to you and I did because I trust you, Y/N. Why do you not do me the favor now?"
"I was.. scared, Draco. And I did not want to worry you. You already have enough other problems than to help out your annoying, whiny girlfriend. I am terribly sorry for everything", you explain sadly, your eyes tearing up. "Even if I have other problems, you always come first, love. It breaks my heart to see you like this. To see you starve and ruin yourself and to not be able to do anything about it", he confesses and leads your hand towards him, kissing the back of it. He then leans forward over the table to brush one strand of hair behind your ear, smiling genuinely before cupping your cheek. You immediately melt into his touch. "I do not expect you to change right now, but at least let me help you today, alright?", Draco offers, and you nod in agreement.
For a moment it looks like he might jump in the air in joy, but he holds himself back in the last moment, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. In a matter of seconds, he scoots closer to you with his chair so that you can look into the book together, your hands intertwined on your lap. You tell him exactly what you do not understand, and he immediately explains it in a much more understandable way than any of your old books ever could.
After you have gone through everything a few times carefully, Draco gives you some tasks to solve while he works on his own homework. Contrary to what you originally expected, you sit quietly next to each other while doing your own thing. Here and there you briefly exchange loving glances, but you hardly speak at all unless you completed your tasks.
You are currently puzzling over a somewhat more difficult question, resting your elbow on the table so you could rest your chin on your hand, frowning with great concentration. Curious about how Draco is doing, you peer over at him only to catch him staring at you the whole time. You quickly take a straight sitting position again and feel the blush rise to your cheeks. Looking down into your lap you feel his foot lightly pushing against your leg to draw your attention to him.
"You look cute when you concentrate", Draco giggles, making you feel even more flattered. "Shut up", you respond shyly and shake your head to disagree. "Well, you do not see yourself through my eyes", he only shrugs, putting a smile on your face now as well. You stare at each other for a while, his eyes locked with yours intensely, before you realize that you still have some studying to do.
You are just about to take your quill back up when your stomach suddenly growls loudly, Madam Pince glancing at you dangerously. Shocked, you lay your hand on your belly and look at your boyfriend with big eyes. He has to suppress a laugh and rummages around in his bag until he has found what he was looking for: your absolute favorite candy.
"Unfortunately we missed dinner because we were too focused on learning, but luckily I am smart and was thinking ahead", Draco winks at you, knowing very well that it is against the rules to bring snacks into the library, but in this moment you could not care less. He then hands you the candy, but before you can grab it, he jerks it away again. "Who is the best boyfriend and best partner for studying in the whole entire muggle and wizarding world?", he asks, raising his eyebrows.
"It is obviously you, Draco", you give him your best smile, the one he loves so much, the one that makes him fall in love with you all over again every time. Satisfied with your answer - and a little bit proud - he gives you your favorite candy, watching you closely as you happily eat it. "I know", he lays back in his chair with a slick smirk on his lips.
It definitely was not a lie. Since that exact day you would always find yourself studying in the library. With Draco. Actually learning. And in the end, you get an even better score than you expected. That, of course, required a reward for Draco which he gladly accepted.
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