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diminuel · 2 years

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I have had some sleep and took my time to rewatch the finale now. I sometimes need a second go at something to warm up to it. And I most certainly did like the episode a lot more than I did on a first watch.

Below the cut is my reaction and discussion of the finale, focusing mostly on the frame story and open questions. I wanted to polish this some more to make it easier to read but it’s almost midnight and I have an early day tomorrow!

Spoilers ahead!

The episode rewinds and brings us to a moment before the series started with John coming back to Lawrence:

John is at a train station, a location which is generally understood to be a transient place: John is stranded, and no matter how many paths there are for him to take he doesn’t know where he has to go because he does not know where he belongs. His path, as it is written (not necessarily in this universe, but it is a possible path always prepared for them by the design of the worlds), should take him to Lawrence Kansas, where he is to meet his future wife.

So this is a peculiar time for Dean to intervene, because by giving him the letter he is on a first glance merely reaffirming the path to Lawrence Kansas that John was “supposed” to go on anyway. He is not sending towards the freedom to write his own story, but towards what was supposed to happen. However, by giving him Henry’s letter (more about this below) Dean doesn’t only give him a direction but also provides the access point to the world of hunting/ the world of the Men of Letters he was denied in Dean’s world. He still met Mary, since other forces are at play too, but they did also meet within the framework of Hunting. He is able to become part of her world, instead of having Mary struggle having to keep a monumental part of her identity concealed from him. The fact that he moves within the same world as her now, means that John can be present for her struggles with trying to leave, just as Mary can be part of John’s struggles to reconcile his unresolved issues with his father and the anger in him. They have more information now and can consequently make more informed decisions. John is no longer representing the idealized life of a civilian that knows nothing about the hardships of hunting, the darkness in the world, or a man who has remained sweet even through war.

That aside, it remains an open how Dean had access to that letter. In the pilot I speculated that there was no way that Dean would have had such a letter, considering that Henry landed in their time and died there unexpectedly. It was therefore unlikely that the letter was really from Henry and that Dean might have forged it to provide him access to the MOL legacy. However, now we know that this is a different universe where Henry most likely did not time travel and instead died at the Akrida Queen’s hands. Since Dean is an out of time and out of place dead man he most definitely didn’t have that letter. He must have obtained it some other way, though how he came to know of it we don’t know.

In any case, having thus provided John with a direction and a link to his father that he had been denied in other universes, he then watches over John making the decision to leave and is joined – unexpectedly to me – by Bobby. Bobby tells him that they are “not supposed to meddle” and that they were not even “supposed to be here.”

From what we know both of them are “out of place” here in Detroit in 1972. Bobby’s words imply to me that they are somehow able to move through the multiverse and across time to watch, but that there are certain places that are off limits for them and that even in places that they are able to freely move to, they are bound to certain rules.

From their conversation it seems clear that they are already “on a last hunt”, most likely for the Akrida. And while Bobby says they shouldn’t meddle, he still tasks Dean with keeping an eye on things in 1972, while he “gets the cavalry” which is met with Dean voicing doubt that Bobby can pull it off. Which of courses raises the question: who is he trying to get and why? Is he trying to bring someone who would help them fight against the Akrida? This question, as we’ll see, will not get answered and instead of fetching whoever he initially wanted to mobilize they end up with Jack. And from Dean’s reaction it seemed like he definitely wanted to fly under God’s radar on that mission.

Cavalry question aside, Dean and Bobby’s conversation raise some questions about the status of people who are dead in Jack’s new and improved Heaven as well as their range of movement. In SPN we have seen people who crossed the threshold from human life to (human or supernatural) death interact on earth. The most common example are ghost (who never leave earth) or demons (who pass from earth to hell and then back to earth, crossing multiple “portals” between the metaphysical layers of SPN’s world). We have also seen people crossing back to the land of the living from Purgatory. But we have not seen it happen for Heaven unless people have been revived in a human/ mortal/ physical body. At least Dean is able to interact with the physical world like an inhabitant of it (i.e. a living human) would – he can talk to people, he can touch things, he has a physical manifestation that is visible. (More on that in a moment). However, he also has abilities that seem supernatural in nature – he is able to vanish (teleport or fly) and he can travel through time and space. It’s implied that he does that with the help of his car but since Bobby does not take the car, they seem to be able to do it unassisted as well. How is a question that is not addressed. However, interestingly, Joan claims that there is not much that Dean can do because his “hands are tied”. She says humans can’t survive the portal, so she must assume that while he is not from this world he a living human. It is therefore unlikely that she knows about Jack having told him not to meddle. So how were his hands tied?

We get second hand information about what Dean does while he is hunting for the Akrida (“keeping a watch on things”): the photographs we have of Dean and then Joan’s accounts of how she threw him and his car through the portal into what we later learn is the world between worlds. Two things are interesting to note. If he had a greater ability to navigate the physical world (vanishing, transportation?) why do he we have photographs where seems to be trying to get into a place that is fenced in. Couldn’t he just get in? Additionally, in these pictures he wears different clothing and hair style. This probably has no textually relevant reasons but I have a hard time not trying to read into. (Though I really can’t come up with a theory that works, considering that the Dean we see coming out of the portal with the car is continuing the storyline we’ve seen in the beginning.)

One thing that was striking to me and seems to run through this episode, is that Dean doesn’t seem particularly convinced with Bobby’s statement that this would be “one last hunt”, just like his reaction to Jack’s reprimand implies reluctance and uneasiness on Dean’s part.

As to the main story:

We find that Mary has changed her mind about attending college but she still wants to get out hunting. The need to cast off the heavy mantle of duty and tragedy that follows a hunter’s life then gains another twist as we learn more about the tragedy turning Joan from a hunter into a destructive Akrida Queen.

In this story the kids never seem to struggle to find the right lore and to find it very quickly, while we see Dean and Sam constantly struggling with not having information or there not being any information. But here we have the Campbell’s attic with family records that spell out a 300 year old case. Joan lost her family to hunting, but what seemed to have pushed her over the edge was the loss of someone else, William. We are not told who he is but his loss shook her tremendously and of course as a Destiel fan looking for parallels I’m taking notice of that. However, there’s another parallel that seems to be more impactful and sinister: In order to keep hunters from dying, Joan absorbed monster essence, which transformed her and made her into a creature that decided that there would only be peace for hunters if anyone who needed saving was destroyed.

This reminds me of Jack, who, hoping to save his family (and redeem himself) he absorbed Chuck’s powers. And now, what is the peace he is offering to the hunters in his family? He doesn’t interfere. Dean dies a conspicuously meaningless death, a death that seems more like an after thought or the careless swipe of the hand of someone pushing him off the chess board. And even though the Akrida clearly would, as Dean argues, eventually also threaten earth and Sam, Jack seems to very much not put up an effort to stop it. If Chuck’s monsters devour the earth, as a fail save, then so be it.

But this is a thought for later, because this is interesting for Mary, who is now faced with how desperately trying to get out of hunting can go wrong. Just like S12’s Mary has to learn what the consequence was in choosing John and a life away from hunting (that ended in Azazel’s deal and her dying), SPNWIN’s Mary is faced with a warning against leaving the life behind as well and we will hopefully see what challenges her decision will come with.

The Akrida as Chuck’s fail save also, in my opinion, do not necessarily make a lot of sense. Their aim, as we’re being told by Akrida!Lata and by Dean is that Chuck created them to destroy all worlds in case he “failed”. Failed in doing what? Also, if that was their task, shouldn’t Chuck’s “failure” trigger their release? But it seems like in the SPNWIN universe they are constantly trying to get out, but get pushed back by the MOL until Joan manages to destroy that line of defense. In terms of time and space coherence this doesn’t quite make sense to me. Why in 1972, why in another world? And considering how easy it was for Mary and co to defeat him, wouldn’t Sam or some other hunters have managed that as well in their own world? There are plenty of people from “not from this world” on our SPN earth. Huntercorp Dean and Sam can run over the Akrida in their Fiat or the MOL can banish them. If the kids in 1972 can do it, surely the people in the 2020s can manage as well…

In any case, Mary manages to defeat her pretty easily, by running her over with Baby and then we get the explanation that we had been waiting for.

Jack restored everything, which most likely also includes the other worlds, because otherwise there wouldn’t be a multiverse for Dean to travel to. When Dean got to Heaven, the first thing he did was not to go meet the family and friends he had lost over the years, but to take the car and drive away. We don’t know why a) the car was waiting for Dean in Heaven (did she die? Does she exist outside time and space?) and b) why Heaven now comes with portals to the multiverse that humans can visit easily. Heaven has become a world not without boundaries, but with very porose boundaries that let you drive right outside and into the land of the living again. What I don’t quite understand is that, if Dean has this option to leave Earth and also have a physical form that can interact with the land of the living, why didn’t he just go back to Sam’s side?

Asked what he was looking for, he says he was looking for his family and then specified that he was trying to figure out if in all the universes out there his family had a shot at a happy ending. Now, that is actually a very morose thought. Dean wouldn’t have had to leave Heaven to find his family: they were allegedly all of them right there, waiting for him. If his death was the happy ending reward for him (and his parents who apparently had a house together in Heaven), the peace for when he was done, why was he trying to find a happy ending?

This brings me to the rather unsettling appearance of Jack. Dean tells his parents that they are now free to write their own stories (a promise that I would question considering that we have seen Gabriel and Chuck and just because they are free of the Akrida doesn’t mean they are free of their destiny that Heaven has chosen for them and might still enforce.). Jack then appears and tells Dean that now he has to return to his own story. But, as we know, Dean’s story is currently at “the end”. As Jack says, what is waiting for Dean is “peace when you are done” (and it sounds more like a threat than like a promise) but as Jack also said that there would always be another hunt for hunters, even if they’re dead. “You hunters” he says, separating himself from Dean and Bobby, even from what Jack used to be himself. He was proud to be a hunter and now he’s clearly something and someone else. Also, I don’t think that Bobby was trying to get Jack as the promised cavalry, since attracting Jack’s attention might clearly be getting them into trouble. So who did he want to fetch and why? Other than that it did seem that when Dean challenged Jack that he could throw him out of Heaven if he wanted to punish him for interfering, he doesn’t seem like that option was particularly scary to him.

In any case, Jack tells Dean to finish what he started and we see him give Dean the Colt, which he then passes on to Mary, while giving John his journal. While I like to imagine that John will find little hearts with Cas’ name in them, the fact that Dean didn’t explain what the Colt is and only leaves Mary with vague information about Yellow Eyes doesn’t quite seem like “finish what you started” to me. So, a small part of me hopes that while Dean left that timeline and that universe behind, that he still has a Hunt that he has to finish (maybe one that is about the conspicuous Cas shaped absence in both the SPN finale and the SPNWIN season finale?). But that is probably something we won’t find out until the next SPN project is announced. I do however think that there still remains a chance that the second half of the ending can be undone and that Dean finds a way to return to live for freedom, instead of peace.

In scenes following Dean’s departure we learn that Lata has access to further soul lore that is new to us, like a way to restore a soul that has partially become undone because one piece of it is missing. So there are actually no particular repercussions for the team following the fight against the Akrida. They haven’t lost anyone (not counting Omega Man), they haven’t sacrificed anything, they have gained new information about multiverses and God (unless multiverses and Heaven is common knowledge either in that world or at least among hunter circles) and they have obtained out of world objects (Colt and Dean’s journal) that might assist them going forward.

Mary, when she passed through the portal in Baby saw “every possible version of herself” (the squirrel one must have been confusing) but since Mary has not yet reached the major fork in her path that we are aware of (will or won’t she make a deal with Azazel) we don’t quite know how impressive this would have been. Still, we find Mary at a fork in her path. Very much like John at the train station, Mary admits to John that she doesn’t know where she is going. She has that conversation at the cinema, that location where in all the stories we have heard about and seen she was fated to meet John. From that point onwards she now has all possibilities open.

At the end we see John and Mary leaving Lawrence together, music rolling as the wide open road lies before them. It is a nice ending though I do hope we will get more, because I definitely want to see what choices they will make. Since we know now that this is an AU version of John and Mary, their future that we know no longer looms as darkly over them – John must not become who he became in SPN and Mary must not burn on the ceiling in 1983.

But even though they think they are free to write their own destinies, Chuck’s touring the country with his band and who knows what he’s up to. He does control time and space and he likes having front row seats.

#Supernatural #The Winchesters #spoilers #spnwin spoilers

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callmewishful · 2 years

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Okay, it’s not quite finished because I cannot write anything quick, but here is Academy Dads, featuring Momma Fraldarius! (More under the cut…I said I write nothing quick and short)

.—.

Rodrigue sighed as he considered his newest friend. The boy was an odd addition to the duo Rodrigue was so used to. He was stubborn and strong willed…okay that wasn’t that odd compared to himself or Lambert. But, he did not mince words or consider the feelings of others when giving his opinion; one did not turn to him when they desired traditional comfort or an expression of validation for their actions. Matthias had a shrewd mind, one for tactics and strategy that was born of necessity. As future Margrave Gautier, he was tasked with keeping the citizens of Faerghus alive, not coddling their feelings…as so eloquently put by the current Margrave upon Rodrigue’s first meeting with him.

Having grown up with such a sentiment, you always knew the words Matthias spoke were the truth or what he believed was correct and just. He often spoke the things you didn’t necessarily want to hear, but needed to.

It had been difficult to tell whether or not Matthias truly cared for them at all - a sentiment Lambert held far closer than Rodrigue did. Lambert often missed the signs Matthias left him, too focused on other tasks to have the time to search for them. But if one was to be friends with Matthias and understand the boy as well as he knew himself, then one had to take time now and then. Thankfully for all the boys, Rodrigue was good at reading Matthias and took it upon himself to point out the care Matthias showed to Lambert.

Rodrigue, for what it was worth, thought that Lambert was improving over time.

For whatever reason, Matthias found it easier to indulge personal information to Rodrigue over Lambert. Rodrigue personally thought this was because he was more open as well, but he was resigned to the fact that he’d never really know why. Either way, Rodrigue was grateful for the trust Matthias placed in him. If he thought for a second that Matthias should keep something from him, he wasn’t sure how he’d act. Lambert was far more restrained when it came to not knowing things than he was himself. It was something Rodrigue never understood, but even more so when he noticed…differences in Matthias.

It was probably nothing. Rodrigue and Lambert both were told that their imagination and ideas were quite “optimistic.” But this wasn’t an optimistic outlook.

Matthias had returned from Gautier the day before and he was…different. The current Margrave had called upon his son regarding Sreng. And though Matthias wouldn’t tell his friends what the outcome of that meeting was, Rodrigue knew that the reason for Matthias’s personality shift wasn’t due to it.

Lambert was failing to see what Rodrigue was worried about. “He seems the same to me.” The future king had said.

“He’s quieter than normal.” Rodrigue lightly pushed back. Perhaps the reason Matthias told more to Rodrigue was simply because he noticed more.

“He’s always quiet, Rodrigue.”

Lambert wasn’t necessarily wrong. Matthias didn’t often speak to those outside of their little group, but when he did he didn’t look so…defeated. And he certainly never avoided their gaze after a few seconds.

Rodrigue’s thought was that Matthias and his father had had a fight. Gautier was a reflective man, even if it wasn’t done for the sharpness of his words. Perhaps the fight had been bad and Matthias felt guilty. Or maybe he was worried about something at home, like his parents being ill. Whatever the reason, Matthias was definitely different and Rodrigue was going to find out why.

The things Matthias did not wish to discuss were hard to bring up consistently. The first time Rodrigue asked how Matthias’s visit home went and he got nothing more than a simple “fine” and a non-committed shrug. The second time Rodrigue asked if Matthias did anything of interest on his trip home and the future Duke received an odd look and a confused “no” as a response.

Whether it was irritating or helpful, Matthias was also good at reading people. Therefore, when Rodrigue asked how Matthias’s parents were, he received a sharp, “Is there something you wish to discuss with me, Rodrigue?” as a response.

Rodrigue knew from experience that taking a direct approach with his friend only worked 63% of the time. But he was caught and had no out so he relented, “You seem troubled upon your return to the monastery. Is something bothering you?”

“Nothing more than the situation up north.” Had this been Lambert, such a response would’ve satisfied him. It was logical. But it was because of its reasonableness that Rodrigue saw it for what it was: a lie.

The future Duke had never tried this tactic before and went with it only for curiosity sake, “Matthias you’re lying to me.”

His friend halted his training exercises, slowly lowering the lance in his hands, “Am I now? You think the situation up north doesn’t bother me?”

“No. Well, yes. No.” Damn Gautier. Rodrigue sighed, “I believe it bothers you, though I know you well enough to know that is not the only thing troubling you. What happened up there? Did you have a row?”

“You’re in over your head, Fraldarius.”

Rodrigue stood tall alongside his friend, “Come now, Matthias! With Lambert and I by your side, we can handle anything!”

Matthias very audibly scoffed, “Spare me your valor talk, Rodrigue. You’re sounding stupid. I only meant that you are in over your head trying to read me.”

That response alone was enough to tell Rodrigue that the words Matthias spoke were not true. Matthias was a blunt man, but he was not mean. Calling his friend stupid wasn’t typical Matthias behavior…At least not in that tone. No, Matthias had to be purposefully pushing Rodrigue away.

Apparently he had found a situation when one could not be sure the words Matthias spoke were the truth.

Still, the future Duke knew how this worked. Matthias could push all he wanted. Soon he’d grow weary of it and give in eventually.

Time told Rodrigue that he thought he knew how this worked.

Instead of growing weary, Matthias stood strong and grew only aggravated. Lambert, who was usually not the peacekeeper among friends, even had to step in and tell Rodrigue to let it go. He couldn’t do that though. Not when his friend was so clearly hurt.

He had one tactic left, and it was probably the stupidest one.

Rodrigue knew that Matthias trained with Lambert for an hour each night, always at the same time. Usually Rodrigue would join the pair to spend time with friends and observe. It wasn’t uncommon for him to pass in favor of the opportunity to see Seraphine though. Which is…or isn’t…exactly what Rodrigue was doing then.

The only downfall was that Lambert had nearly spoiled his plans by actually telling Sera that Rodrigue was spending time with her that night. Thus the girl had to be brought in on Rodrigue’s true plan and hence how Sera ended up sneaking around Matthias’s things with the future Duke.

“He’s going to murder you.” Sera kept whispering to him. There was no need to whisper, they were alone in the future Margrave’s room, but Rodrigue was grateful she did.

“He’s an agreeable enough man.” Rodrigue told himself more so than her. “And that’s only if he finds out.”

“Perhaps I’ll tell him. Would serve you right for using me in your lie.” She was teasing him now, a mischievous little smirk on her lips. It wasn’t fair, really. Pretty and a good sense of humor…No. He needed to focus.

He smiled patiently, focusing on flipping through the letters on Matthias’s desk. They only had another half hour before his friends, mostly Lambert, would grow bored of the task and call quits. “And how would you omit yourself from such events?”

“Easily. You left his door open.”

Rodrigue had to frown at that. Surely he would never be so foolish, and Matthias would know that. “That’ll never work. He would see right through it.”

“Will he now? And how so? What reason would I have to lie?”

“What reason would you have to turn me in? We are courting.”

She paused for a moment, mulling over his question. “I have a much higher standard of integrity.” She answered with finality.

Rodrigue chuckled at this. Anyone who knew his, hopefully, future wife would see through that as well. Sera was as wicked as the girl she was trying to set Matthias up with. Rodrigue wanted his friend to be happy though he was skeptical about the girl. If she were to get with Matthias, then they would be one hell of a pair. She would only enhance his wit, as opposed to mellowing him out.

“Does this ‘AG’ always write to him like this?” Sera punctured the careful silence. Seeing as she found something of use, Rodrigue turned to face her.

She was kneeling down by the small garbage at the end of the bed, apparently going through it. Rodrigue crinkled his nose, “Trash fishing? You know how Gautier is. I can’t believe you’d brave that.”

“I know how Gautier is, which is exactly why I did brave it. It’s just like him to get upset and throw stuff out. Honestly, do you know him at all?”

It was meant as a jest, but sometimes Rodrigue really did wonder if he knew Matthias. He thought he knew the boy better than most. Perhaps that was his own delusions that he had created to comfort himself. But he was the one that Matthias spent the most time with…and he was the one who got Matthias to divulge his favorite color and the memory of roughhousing with so many siblings and how his older brother would take him down to the Faerghus founding fair every year. Maybe such pieces of information were so trivial in Matthias’s mind that he didn’t mind sharing them with his constantly pestering friends.

“Listen to this: ‘Perhaps if you spent less time engaging in meaningless studies such as negotiations and diplomacy, you would prove to be less of a disappointment.’ What the hell? Who is this?”

Rodrigue took the crumpled up letter to read for himself. Who was talking to his friend in such a way? He didn’t recognize the handwriting, but perhaps Lambert would. The future king had far more experience with reading letters from the people of Faerghus.

And this ‘AG.’ Who could that be? His first thought was a Gautier, but the few he met on his trip to visit Matthias has been perfectly polite, if not a little blunt. Perhaps it was a staff member? Or one of his father’s advisors? In any case, this surely was what Matthias was so upset about earlier. He tolerated no disrespect, as all the Gautier’s before him.

The key hitting the lock was enough to freeze the blood in his veins. Matthias tolerated no disrespect and going through his personal items was certainly one of the biggest acts of such, even if Fraldarius did have good intentions.

“Move, dummy!” Seraphine hissed, pushing Rodrigue towards the gap under the bed. It was going to be a tight fit, but perhaps- “Fraldarius you’re going to get us both killed.”

Right! Rodrigue squeezed under the bed frame, Sera shoving him and herself in, hopefully, in the nick of time. They both held their breath, listening.

“Are you sure you wish to interrupt him, Lambert? One would think it to be a dangerous venture.” Matthias was telling his friend.

Rodrigue strained to catch Lambert’s reply. Whatever it was was funny, because Matthias chuckled. Perhaps Rodrigue wasn’t the only one good at lightening Matthias’s moods.

“I am telling you to learn from my mistakes, Your Highness.” Matthias called a little louder. He dug around for something, possibly a quick change of dress by the sounds of it, and shut the door.

Sera shot him a panicked look as the realization crossed her mind that they could be stuck there all night. Rodrigue knew such would not be the case. His friends would go down to the dining hall for dinner and then they would be free.

The door opened and Sera nearly breathed a sigh of relief until Lambert’s voice sounded through the room. “He’s not in there. He’s not in here is he?”

“Lambert. If he’s in here I’ll kill him.”

Lambert hit the floor, dropping down to peek under the bed. Imagine his surprise when the ones they spoke of were actually under there. Rodrigue was desperately trying not to laugh, while Sera was horrified, covering her mouth to stop from peeping.

During his prayers for silence, he asked the goddess to grant Lambert the power to lie, just this once. Lambert was the worst liar among them, a good trait for the type of king he wished to be, but awful for their schemes and Rodrigue at this moment.

“What are you doing?” Matthias demanded.

“Checking under the bed.” Lambert replied far smoother than Rodrigue thought possible. Perhaps Lambert was secretly a good liar and he’d just been faking.

“For what?”

Lambert smirked at the pair before standing, “For Rodrigue, you lout. It was a jest! Goddess someone needs to give you comedic lessons. Perhaps Alois could-“

“No. Absolutely not!” Matthias began arguing with the Crown Prince. Lambert’s plan was quite genius. If one could distract Matthias with an unfavorable outcome then he wouldn’t notice the oddity at the rate of which Lambert spoke. Their voices grew quieter, until the door shut and locked once again.

Rodrigue moved to free himself, but Sera held him in place, insisting they wait until there was no chance of being further caught.

“You were right,” She told him as he quietly shut the door behind them. “Matthias won’t kill you. I will.”

#matthias raoul gautier #lambert egitte blaiddyd #rodrigue achille fraldarius #oc: seraphine edith fraldarius #l writes

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movinglaciers · 6 months

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not to sound psycho on main but I am still just not ok after being dumped by someone I only knew for a little 2 months. I miss him so much. I wasn't done learning about him. I miss the way he made me feel but more than anything, I MISS HIM as a person. i've never met someone like him. i loved the way he looked at the world. and I don't necessarily believe in soulmates etc but if I could handpick a man for me, it would be him. like looks, personality, interests, values, life outlook. it felt like he was tailor made for me. he held me and touched me and talked to me in exactly the ways I dream about, without ever having to ask how I liked to be loved. i've always had a ~vision~ that my spouse's last name would be a specific letter, his started with that letter. I had a dream before I met him that i'd meet my soulmate at the place we had our first date. and now i'm stuck crying every day over someone I can never have, who probably hasn't even thought about me since he dumped me. i've never felt more heartbroken. I feel so fucking stupid for thinking all of these things, and for seeing a future, when he was losing interest in me as each day passed. all of the sudden I'm alone again in a world made for two.

I need to not be on dating apps but I NEED a connection. I'm isolated from my friends. I don't have family nearby. I went 3 years without someone cuddling me and hugging me, and after having that finally for 2.5 months, and ripped away, I feel so touch starved. It's easier to be lonely when it's cold outside. Now it's beautiful, and I walk to the park and I cry watching people hand in hand, arms around each other, enjoying each other, enjoying the beautiful day, the beautiful park. I don't have that. I don't think I ever will. But I refuse to let another summer pass by as lonely as last. But here I am, maxxing out my hinge likes daily and getting no matches back. Getting no attractive matches on the others, and the ones I acquiesce to, getting no responses. Something is fundamentally wrong with me. I miss him so much, I will be mourning what could've been for the rest of my life

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europodfriends · 9 months

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Europodfriends 2024!

It's that time of the year again! \o/

After careful deliberation we’ve decided to keep to our usual schedule and meet in Berlin on the weekend of 11th - 14th October, 2024! We know this isn’t the ideal date for everyone so we may still look to change this in future years.

One important difference to previous years: this time we have booked the place for three nights (Friday, Saturday, Sunday) rather than just two. This means a higher cost, but it also means we will definitely be able to stay later on Sunday and won't possibly have to leave by 10am. It also means that you'll be able to use both Sunday and Monday for return travel, which might make it a little easier to find good options!

For those who have been before, we’ve already booked the same place we usually do, but the upstairs apartment this time, which has the same amount of beds but does have better communal space options. We’ve also been looking into larger places that would offer us more space, but this is tricky as there are not many big apartments available within our usual budget range, so we will have to see what is possible after sign ups. If you happen to know of any alternative accommodation options, please do let the mods know! (And it doesn't necessarily need to be in Berlin, either! As long as it's decently reachable with public transport, it's worth looking into!)

As in previous years, the meetup won’t have a flat attendance fee. We calculate the contributions based on your means, so don’t worry about not being able to afford it! And if you need extra funds to be able to attend (for travel expenses, for instance), don’t hesitate to let us know - we budget in such a way that it’s possible for europodfriends to fund your journey as well. It’s important to us to facilitate everyone’s attendance to the best of our ability.

Food & drink - in 2023 we covered 2 meals plus groceries for breakfasts and snacks for everyone out of the epf budget. We would like to be able to do that again, but that depends on how much people are able to contribute and how much costs go up between now and the meet.

And, most importantly, here’s the survey you need to fill out if you want to join us! The survey will close on 31st January 2024.

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For those who’ve never been to an in-person EPF meetup, or who would like a little refresher, here’s roughly what we did the last times and what we’ll likely be doing next year as well:

Friday is mostly for everyone arriving, greeting each other, hanging out, and making name badges. Very ambitious people might already be podficcing that evening, but since not everyone may have arrived yet, we don’t schedule anything specific for that day.

Saturday morning there’s a meeting where everyone introduces themselves “formally” with names and pronouns. This is also when we do pitch ‘n’ pod - in short, everyone who wants to gets a few minutes to talk about a fandom and a fic in that fandom they want to podfic at the meetup, and afterwards everyone can sign up to the podfics they want to be a part of and the recording gets going. Saturday evening might be another scheduled event organised by attendees - in past years we’ve had a video call with Podfication, a game of “Guess That Voice” or Podficcers Against Humanity, and watch parties, for example - but that part is up to y’all: if you want to organise something, get in touch so we can figure out the scheduling and planning!

Sunday morning we’ve usually done a big, fun multivoice with everyone participating, and that would certainly be fun to do again - 2018 we did Earth Is Space Australia (and Chuck Norris Isn’t A Man With A Beard. He’s A Beard With A Man), 2019 we did I Has a Sweet Potato, and 2023 we did SMOF and What’s in the Dark. After that, people start leaving as their travel plans call for.

Throughout the three days, there’s a lot of podficcing happening at all hours of day and night - the EPF collections on AO3 should give you some idea!

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

Like in the past few years, we will mostly be updating you via email, but we’ll also try to crosspost to Dreamwidth, Twitter, tumblr, Pillowfort, and Mastodon, life and time permitting. If you want to make sure to stay up to date, comment here, contact us via DMs on any of the usual social medias, Discord, or email us at europodfriends at gmail to be added to the mailing list!

#epf #europodfriends #podfic #podfic meetup #fan meeting #european fans #fandom meetup #meetup #epf24

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selormohene · 11 months

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day 103 (saturday, october 14th 2023)

On the Friday for which the previous post was written I went out to a party. It was a great time. I went alone, as I often do with these things, but a friend of mine happened to come along later and I ended up meeting some people I knew (as well as some new people). Wonderful time. I had a few drinks, not too much as far as I was concerned, but enough that I could definitely tell a difference, partly because that was partly my intention, so I’d find it easier to socialise and so on. Anyway, I ended up taking an Uber back home with a couple of friends, only to realise, once I’d already been dropped off, that I no longer had my phone.

The thing about my phone is that I’ve had it for five years (since the last one, which got ruined in the laundry), and at no point had I really done anything before then to safeguard the data in it or anything. I’d always thought about the fact that the physical phone was something of a single point of failure, and that there ws a lot on it that I considered particularly valuable, and that I should probably do something to guard against losing the phone or otherwise having it inoperable. But I’ve always felt as though I tell myself these things without taking the right steps to do something about it, almost as if I was secretly waiting for everything to fall down around me. That’s the one thing which I find incredibly frustrating about myself when it comes to things that I procrastinate about. It’s not just that I don’t do certain things, but that I feel like I’m actively trying to prevent myself from doing those things; it feels like an urge to self-destruction, almost.

The thing about procrastination, I’ve found, is that I always say I’ll do X “later.” But when is “later”? I can never really say. In essence, it’s an indefinite later, which in principle could be never, and in practice usually is, and that makes me think the only important thing to my mind when I say “later” is that it’s not now, and that “later” is just a convenient justification for “I don’t want to do it.” The point is a lot more general. I’ve read so much advice about procrastination which essentially comes down to “I could never complete X, Y and Z until I found these key strategies that worked for me.” And the strategies hardly ever work for me. Someone who nearly got kicked out of college almost entirely due to not being able to hand things in on time, even in full awareness of the potential consequences and their probable ramifications for my long-term ambitions — ramifications I am in fact dealing with right now — one wants to say the problem there, whatever it is, is something different from not finding the right strategies. That’s the thing about advice about procrastination. It rarely ever solves the real issue, what I want to call the spiritual problem of procrastination. Why would someone be so unwilling to confront a difficult task that they’d place their entire future in danger over an unwillingness to sit down and write a ten-page essay? What sort of unconquerable lassitude could have such a hold on a person? That’s the problem, I think, that I (and many other people) would need to solve, and out of a solution to which the ability to do things, to commit oneself to things, would simply flow effortlessly.

It even occurs to me that many of the people who have found a strategy that works for them and that they recommend to others often have the problem that they don’t necessarily understand that X worked for them because it fulfilled a deeper purpose, solved their particular version of the spiritual problem, and so they give others the solution under an extensional guise, “doing X is what works for me, try X,” rather than the more fundamental intensional guise, “doing X worked for me because it served this purpose, find whatever serves that purpose for you, though it might not be X.”) But the point is that all the pomodoro timers or whatever in the world haven’t seemed to help me with the fundamental problem, which is one of alignment, incentives, temperament, environment, etc. And perhaps some physiological or neurological stuff, although I don’t even think it’s that because for one thing it’s not like I have trouble focusing on things I enjoy. Like getting bored with the process of writing a paper once I feel like I’ve figured out what I want to say, perhaps because what’s really important to me is getting my thoughts straight on the matter. Or having a strong sense of what’s important which I haven’t been able to divorce my motivation from, probably for the better as far as my personal sense of self is concerned but for the worse as far as surviving in a world where you aren’t always in a position to work on only what you want is concerned. To be fair I’ve survived by making it in grad school and I do think that at some point I’m going to have to find a way to align my financial incentives with my personal interests. But it still feels to me that procrastination is a matter of having found myself unable to solve a deep, fundamental misalignment in my life, and not knowing what the precise contours of that misalignment are.

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the-daily-scrommit · 2 years

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January 6, 2023

Jan 6, 2023 - Third entry

Today has been a lot easier than previous days; each day seems to be getting better and better. I haven't cried (though I don't think I have the last couple days anyways), I've eaten more than I have any other day this last week, I've talked more positively and lightheartedly with people I haven't talked to as much or as nicely recently, and I just generally feel less emotional.

I texted my ex-partner a lot this morning, but it was all positive friendship related stuff- how excited I am to be close friends with them down the line, how nice it'll be for me to really trust them as my friend, how I can't wait to be able to spend time with them again when the two of us are ready. I even told them I'm excited to feel comfortable and safe enough to be little with them again. They've expressed to me before that they want to be able to give me that space as friend because they know how I am when I'm little and in puppy space.

Speaking of puppy and little space, I reached out to a different friend about being little with them and they were so down for it! I'm kind of scared to be little around someone who isn't my partner in general (which is part of why I'm not being little or a puppy with my ex-partner even though I was previously comfortable being in those spaces with them), but I've known this friend and been emotionally vulnerable with them on and off for years, so it makes this feel less daunting and scary to me. I'm really excited to just let go again and allow myself to be in a vulnerable space with someone I care about again.

I've been thinking a lot about what my ex means to me today, and it hasn't been too painful. I'm in a weird space of not knowing if I necessarily want to actively try to date them in the future while also being very open to the thought of letting things happen naturally if they go in that direction. I'm jealous of new people they're meeting or have the potential to meet, but at the same time I'm excited for them to experience more, because I can see how happy it's making them. They've been getting out and doing so much for themselves and it's making me want to do more of the same.

Seeing this is also making it easier for me to continue being just their friend and to want to learn more of their interests. I know it might be kind of shitty from some perspectives that I didn't want to be personally involved in some video games they play while dating them- mostly shooters or very active games in general, which are very not my cup of tea- but at that point I got a lot of enjoyment from getting to sit and watch them do that because we had more time together. Now our time together isn't guaranteed, so I'm finding myself becoming more curious with these intense video games that are sure to give me headaches and sensory overload. I know that I'll be more likely to get time with them if I play these same games, even though it still isn't guaranteed. Even right now, they're trying to figure out how to play Pathfinder as an alternative to D&D and I'm asking about it as they learn and expressing my own interest in learning the game to play with them over a discord call with some other friends.

I'm really excited about where all of this is going, even though there are still emotions that I feel on the daily that bring a physical weight to me. I'm happy I've been reaching out to people and doing more for myself. I went to the gym without being too frustrated at myself or the world around me, played video games that I enjoy with friends, lit candles for myself, focused on visualizing an intake of positive energy to replace the negative energy I've been feeling, and generally doing everything I can right now to keep myself properly afloat.

Things are getting better and I'm hopeful again, but for different reasons and objectives in my life. I have so many good people around me and I have every intention of keeping it that way.

Goodnight, take care; I am sending you love. <3

#journal entry #January 6 2023 #12:17am #ik it's the day after again technically but i haven't slept yet so it's still the 6th in my heart #the daily scrommit #daily journal #breakup #healing #friendship #self care

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writingandimagining · 3 years

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High Up in the Astronomy Tower (Part 19)

Part 1 | Prev | Next | Masterlist

Summary: A few weeks after the confrontation with Draco at the quidditch game your friendship is nearly repaired, but a confession from Draco leaves you reeling.

Word Count: 4.5k

Rating: Teen (other parts M), 💗

A/N: For those who didn't see my post I have another series idea. Fake dating, arranged marriage, Slytherin reader. Would people like to see alternating posts between two stories or should I finish this one before starting another?

Add yourself to the taglist for updates here

“Draco, come on…” you whined.

Draco’s raised eyebrows had you rolling your eyes.

“You helped me with the others, professor,” you said.

The gloomy Wednesday morning only felt gloomier in the dungeons. It had been a few weeks since you had reconciled with Draco and while you weren’t quite as comfortable as you had been before, every day was a little easier than the last. Draco and Harry had cooled significantly to each other, but that was something you couldn’t force under any circumstances, so you left it alone.

You did have to give the two men credit though, their rivalry had died with the end of the war, but that didn’t erase the memories and impulses they were so clearly restraining. You knew it was mostly for your benefit, but you hoped that they were maturing past a rivalry that had been so childish in its displays. Because you would honestly rather dig your own eye out with a rusty spoon than see two men brawl over you, which would have been an expected outcome not more than two years ago. Instead, they were stiff but cordial, not necessarily avoiding each other, but definitely spending less time together in your presence than they had before. Your friendship with both was not impacted by the other, but you were always slightly on edge wondering when the other shoe would drop.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” Draco said, bringing your attention back to the present.

“Yes?”

“You will have to be back here in exactly six hours for the potion to be effective.”

You frowned and glanced at your watch. You taught until four and then you had a meeting with McGonagall immediately after. It was eleven so you would have to get back to the dungeons at five, though ideally earlier. You could make it on time, but the time crunch wasn’t ideal.

“And what if I trip and fall down the stairs in my rush? What if I die, professor?” you said, trying your best to make a pleading face. “Is it really worth tempting death to finish this potion?”

The Baneberry potion hadn’t been exceptionally complex to brew but the timing for the two parts came down to minutes before the potion would be too off to be used effectively.

“I’ll still grade you fairly against your other classmates, accidental stair death or not.”

You pouted and Draco rolled his eyes, pushing off the table to go help another student.

You grumbled under your breath. Draco had helped you with Veritaserum, but he insisted that for the rest of the year you had to do things on your own, claiming potions to be essential to your education and your future. You resisted the urge to point out that the both of you would be under the same roof of Hogwarts for several years to come and he would likely make any potions you asked for.

Draco dismissed the class and you lingered at your desk, packing your bag as slow as possible so you could talk to him alone.

“(Y/N),” Draco said, bringing your attention from the pens you were pointlessly organizing.

You looked up and smiled when your eyes landed on Draco.

It really was a relief to have Draco back. You hadn’t realized how quickly Draco had taken such a prominent role in your life, but now, knowing what it felt like when he was there but just out of your reach you would do anything to prevent that from happening again.

But that realization weighed on you. You could feel your connection to Harry growing just as strong as Draco’s. It felt like you couldn’t choose one without losing the other. You couldn’t even justify a choice in your head, barring the potential fallout.

It made you feel a little gross and cruel to think you were the ultimate decider of the happiness of all three of you, at least temporarily. You weren’t so egotistical to think that either man would be heartbroken for the rest of his days if you chose the other.

Thankfully, neither of them had made any further moves, flirtatious, romantic, or otherwise, but you saw it in their looks. You felt it in their touches. You had never felt this conflicted.

You shook your head, pushing those thoughts to the side.

“Do you want to go to the Astronomy Tower?” You asked.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “Are you asking your professor to do drugs with you?”

You snorted. One benefit of everything being relatively open was Draco’s wit and sarcasm. Of course, you had seen it before, but he was more relaxed with it. He didn’t do it as a defensive mechanism, but instead, in the way that friends mocked each other.

“Well, we’re both professors.”

“But you’re not my professor.”

“I could be,” you said, wiggling your eyebrows and then winking.

“Merlin,” Draco said, scrubbing his hand over his face, but you could see a smile peek through.

“So? Friday?”

“Fine, but you had to promise to not make that face again.”

“I can’t promise that.”

Draco groaned and you laughed.

“See you later, professor,” you called, adding an extra lilt to the title like you always did.

You made your way back up to your classroom, you had been taking your lunch in there more recently because of the amount of work that was piling up.

You were getting bogged down in grading and the work you were having to do with the Ministry to reform the O.W.L test. As annoying as the bureaucratic red tape was you were still grateful that they had even listened to you when you had told them that change was necessary.

You reached your classroom and unlocked the door. You locked the door behind you, not wanting to be interrupted, and sat down to grade the fourth years' papers.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, your classes

At three fifty you dismissed the third years early. Your classroom was left in a bit of disarray, stray papers, books, and quills scattered across some of the desks, but you ignored it and hurried up to the Headmistress’s office.

The eagle statue loomed in the alcove as you rummaged around in your bag for the password.

You pulled out the crumpled paper McGonagall had given you that morning.

“Sapere Aude,” you intoned, stumbling over the unfamiliar words. The statue turned and rose, revealing the spiral staircase.

Dare to know. Much more fitting for a password by McGonagall than ‘Albus Dumbledore.’

You climbed the steps two at a time, your breath coming short and heavy when you reached the top. You glanced at your watch and saw three fifty-five. Maybe you had been overreacting in your rush to get here.

You readjusted the strap on your bag before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” McGonagall called.

You pushed the door open and entered the room cautiously, looking around at the portraits. Most paid you no mind, but Dumbledore gave you a serene smile and Snape looked on as if you were a bug on the heel of his boot. Resisting the urge to flick him off, something you had wanted to do since you were twelve, but knowing about Lily you held even more contempt for him, you made your way over to where McGonagall sat behind her desk.

“Good afternoon, Miss (Y/L/N).”

“Good afternoon, headmistress.”

McGonagall gestured to the seats in front of the desk, and you dropped into one, bringing your bag in your lap, fidgeting with the straps.

“What did you wish to speak to me about?”

“Right. So, I was thinking that maybe—well I think—” you huffed and sat up straighter. “Can I take the students on a field trip?”

McGonagall blinked, surprise evident on her face even in the limited expression.

“I know that’s a big ask, but I think it would do many of the students good to experience the muggle world firsthand. I doubt many of their parents would take them much less know what to do, where to go, and how to act. But I grew up there. So, I was thinking of dividing the groups into the first and second years, third and fourth, and so on and taking them on an outing.”

McGonagall pursed her lips, and you held your breath. You couldn’t tell if you should try to keep convincing her or stop talking.

“That would be 160 students in each group, how would you manage that?”

“I would like to bring other professors.”

McGonagall smiled, “Mister Potter and Mister Malfoy?”

“Well, yeah. All of the other professors have so many extra responsibilities. Ron and Hermione could also help.”

McGonagall nodded, “I think this is a wonderful idea Miss (Y/L/N). You will need to write up a permission slip for parents to sign and a full plan submitted to me before the end of the month.”

You nodded and glanced at the clock. Four fifteen, plenty of time.

You and McGonagall discussed your plans a little bit longer before you excused yourself.

Four forty-five. The dungeons were clear across the castle from the Headmistress’s office and several floors down.

You sighed and broke into a sprint. Your bag banged against your leg and a few of the students you passed gave you a strange look, but you ignored them. As insane as you probably looked you did want to do well in Potions, a foreign feeling, but you attributed your renewed motivation to Draco. He was a great professor.

Yeah, it’s just because he is a good professor, nothing else…

You skidded to a halt in front of the closed door and attempted to quell your labored breathing. You glanced at your watch and cursed four fifty-eight.

You pushed the door open roughly and it banged into the wall. The loud crash echoed in the mostly empty room.

Draco looked up sharply, an angry look on his face, but when he recognized you, he rolled his eyes and gestured for you to come in.

Neville and Blaise were the only other students in the room, and they were adding the final ingredient to test the effectiveness of their brews already.

You dropped your bag into your chair and made your way to the storage closet. After it steeped for six hours it had to be strained and stored in a dark place until use. When one wanted to use it all they had to do was add the final ingredient, whatever that was. The ingredient would prevent anyone of that species from crossing a circle made with the potion.

You grabbed your flask from the shelf before coming back to the main room.

Draco was standing with Neville and Blaise. Blaise was attempting to enter a circle that Neville had made by pouring the potion around him, but it looked like he kept walking into a wall. After a few tries, Blaise shook his head and gave up.

Draco nodded to Neville while Blaise made his own circle to test his potion.

You took your flask over to your table and fiddled with it while you waited. Draco had everyone test their potion using their partner’s hair, the fastest and simplest way to test if the potion was effective, rather than gaining the attention of a truly dangerous creature.

“Great job, A’s for the both of you,” Draco said.

You looked up and made eye contact with Draco. You raised your potion and gave him an expectant. Draco nodded and dismissed Blaise and Neville.

Blaise left, mouthing some to Draco you couldn’t decipher, but it caused Draco to roll his eyes. Neville followed soon after, giving you a small wave.

“What did Blaise say?” You asked.

Draco shook his head, “Nothing important.”

You gave him a look that said “I’m not buying it” but you dropped it regardless.

“Ready?” You asked.

Draco nodded and passed you a few strands of his hair he must have gotten earlier.

“Just drop ‘em in?” You asked, hesitating as you held the strands over the now uncovered flask.

“Yes, swirl six times.”

You dropped them in and swirled the flask, deliberating counting the motion out loud.

Draco took a step back and you poured the contents of the flask in a small circle around yourself. The flask was nearly empty when you finished and you straightened, looking to Draco.

Draco studied the circle, before trying to step across the line. An invisible force pushed him back, causing him to stumble, and he looked surprised.

“Don’t look too shocked,” you said, crossing your arms.

“It’s much stronger than anyone else’s.”

You quirked an eyebrow.

“Stronger than yours?”

Draco gave you a lopsided grin, “Not by a longshot.”

You rolled your eyes and dragged your foot through the drying circle, breaking the barrier and stepping out.

“A-plus?”

Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“A.”

“But it was stronger.”

“As long as it repels that’s an A.”

You pouted, and Draco sighed.

“I have some grading to do,” Draco said, changing the subject before you could keep arguing.

“Including giving me an A-plus?”

Draco groaned and threw his head back, looking like he was searching for some celestial assistance in dealing with your antics.

“Are you going to grade down here in the cold dungeon all alone?”

“It’s not that bad down here.”

“Compared to my classroom this is a prison.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

You blinked. That was true, Draco had never been to your classroom. Neither had Harry.

“I have to do some grading too, why don’t we go to my classroom?”

Draco tilted his head, considering your proposition.

“Give me a few minutes to gather my things,” Draco said, walking to his desk and rifling through the drawers.

You cleaned up your spot, depositing the flask into the sinks at the back of the room.

Draco was waiting at the door with a stack of papers in his arms and more poking out of the top of his bag.

“Geez, how many papers do you assign? We’ve only had two from you.”

You pushed open the door, holding it for Draco.

“I’m just a little behind,” he replied, shifting the papers in his arms.

“Do you need some help?”

“Just need to lock the door.”

You made to pull your wand out of your pocket and Draco shook his head.

“Key, right pocket.”

You looked at him in confusion, “A key?”

“It’s charmed and harder to get past than a spell.”

“Okay… and why do I need to know it’s in your pocket?”

Draco gave you a flat look.

“Oh, right,” you said. You reached your hand into his cloak pocket. Something about the action had you blushing, you hoped Draco didn’t notice.

You pulled the key out and locked the door, sliding it back into his pocket, all the while avoiding looking at Draco’s face.

“I don’t bite,” Draco said when you stepped away.

You rolled your eyes and began leading him to your classroom.

“Unless you ask,” the exaggerated tone took away from the implication of his words.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“Charmingly hilarious is the term I prefer.”

“Your neck must be incredibly sore.”

Draco blinked, “What?”

“From carrying around that big head of yours.”

Draco snorted.

“It’s gotta be exhausting right? With an ego that size I can’t imagine it isn’t.”

Draco said nothing, but you see amusement alight in his eyes. You really appreciated having someone you could talk with like this, most people were put off by your deadpan humor based in mocking.

You arrived at your classroom and unlocked the door.

“Doesn’t it seem like a prison down there seeing this room?” You asked, striding across the room to your desk.

Draco didn’t respond and you glanced back at him. He was looking around the room with a look you couldn’t parse out.

Over the past two months, you had brought more and more things to hang and decorate the classroom with. It looked completely different than anything a Hogwarts student would have seen, but you had gone to muggle elementary until coming to Hogwarts and you remembered those rooms with fondness.

The blackboards around the left wall had various infographics tacked to them. The right wall was reserved for notes and instructions for class, but students had taken to drawing or writing notes and jokes on one of the boards.

The seating you had emancipated from the Room of Requirement was often used and there were books and supplies scattered across the low table.

“It’s like you’ve never a classroom before,” you joked while sifting through the haphazard piles of student work on your desk.

“Not one like this,” Draco said.

“I’m taking that as a compliment.”

Draco hummed. You looked up and gestured to the couches near the door.

“Feel free to sit wherever you want.”

Draco nodded and dropped his stack of paper on the table.

You pulled out all the papers you needed to grade and groaned. You cursed your past self for assigning the fifth years and above three feet of parchment on an even in muggle history of their choosing.

The stack was massive, and it balanced precariously in your arms as you walked over to the couch next to Draco.

“And you were judging me?” Draco said, eyeing the stack.

“This is just fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth. Don’t you have first through eighth years to grade?”

Draco frowned and you stuck your tongue out.

“I’ve never met anyone more mature than you, truly.”

“Thank you. I’m also incredibly humble.”

Draco chuckled and you grinned.

The grading went by much easier than it did when you were alone. Draco’s presence kept you from distraction, well relatively speaking. It had been going fine until you caught him shedding his cloak, sweater, and tie. No matter how many times you saw it the image of him with rolled-up sleeves, hair disheveled from constantly running his hand through it, and the collar loosened enough to expose the jut of his collarbones nearly took your breath away. He had a casual elegant beauty, but still masculine in the cut of his jaw and build.

“Can I help you with something?” Draco asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

You shook your head and dropped your eyes back to the paper you were grading.

The silence fell again, but it took you longer than you would like to admit to bring your attention away from Draco and back to the papers in front of you.

The sound of Draco shifting shook you from your revere of grading. You blinked and then yawned.

“What time is it?” You groaned.

“Nine,” Draco replied, cracking his neck.

“Fucking hell. I’m only halfway through the sixth years.”

Draco grimaced and you stretched, your back aching from the bent position you had unknowingly slipped into.

“I just finished the third years.”

You groaned again and flopped back onto the couch.

“Scratch Astronomy Tower Friday. Let’s go now.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, clearly judging the fact that you were admitting to wanting to give up for the night, and you shrugged.

“We’ve been here what? Over three hours?”

“(Y/N), you’re not even halfway.”

You sighed. “Fine. I’ll finish sixth year and then we’ll go.”

“I didn’t even agree in the first place!”

“So, you don’t want to come?”

Silence.

“Exactly. So, I’ll finish sixth year, and then we can go.”

“As you wish, Professor (Y/L/N),” Draco replied with a grin.

“That’s weird. Never call me that again.”

“Don’t the students call you that?”

“Miss (Y/N).”

Draco gaped at you, “What did McGonagall say to that?”

You shrugged, “If she knows she doesn’t care.”

Draco shook his head.

“Besides, I’m not a professor yet. This is a trial run.”

“That’s a technicality.”

“Whatever,” you said, waving him off.

The rest of the sixth year grading passed by quickly and you were locking the door to your classroom before you realized it.

You and Draco walked in a pleasant silence back to the common room. You were relieved you felt no pressure or anxiety to talk like you had in the first week after the confrontation at the quidditch game.

The common room was mostly empty a few Hufflepuff students studying by the bookshelves and Theo, Pansy, and Blaise lounging by the fire. Draco’s gaze lingered on Pansy for a moment. You swallowed the lump that rose in your throat. There was nothing romantic in the look, that much you were sure of, but that didn’t mean it was nothing.

“Fifteen minutes?” You asked at the bottom of the stairs, pushing your questions to the side.

Draco nodded.

Harry was missing from the room, probably with Ron and Hermione in theirs. You threw your bag over the back of your chair and began undressing, your thoughts wandering back to the look.

Everyone knew Draco didn’t care for Pansy and Pansy only cared about him for the Malfoy name and fortune, though both of those were tarnished since the end of the war.

Why is she still so invested in him then?

It was a puzzling thought. Draco offered her no advancement on the pureblood social ladder now. Narcissa was doing a lot to restore the Malfoy name, organizing fundraisers and events to raise money, but that was a drop in the bucket compared to everything that was tied to their name through Lucius’s actions. She never went so far as to apologize for her family’s actions, but Narcissa had largely stayed out of the conflict so there had been very little to punish her for that was not forgotten in the wake of Harry’s endorsement.

Beyond their money and reputation, their connections were all in prison or similarly outcast from social circles. Pansy was actually in a better position than Draco. Not as wealthy by a longshot, no grand family manor, but they had escaped with their reputation relatively intact, having never officially supported either side. Certainly, looked down upon for not fighting against Voldemort, but with so many Death Eaters and supporters being so publicly sentenced the Parkinson’s non-involvement meant very little in the court of public opinion.

That left only one option: Pansy was in love with him. Truly. And she saw you, admittedly rightfully so, as a threat to getting him.

You very nearly laughed out loud.

As much as Draco’s interest in you was out in the open between the two of you, and Harry, you couldn’t imagine that many other people knew, especially with the Prophet still speculating on the identity of Harry’s “mystery woman.” While everyone in Hogwarts had figured out it was you within the first week of it being published, it became clear that no one was going to reveal your identity to Rita. You contributed their restraint to the fact that people wanted to respect the savior of the Wizarding World.

That led you to another thought: Pansy hadn’t revealed your identity yet. There was no doubt in your mind or any of the Gryffindors that she was the one behind the photo, but none of you cared to confront her, fearing she would reveal it as retaliation.

If she wanted to keep the two of you apart, she certainly wasn’t trying very hard.

You pondered what her next move would be, if she even had one, as you collected your things, stuffing your stash box and a jacket into your bag.

You met Draco at the bottom of the stairs.

“Ready?” You asked, shouldering your bag.

Draco nodded and you followed him out into the hall ignoring the feeling of Pansy’s venomous stare on your back.

“She hates me, you know,” you commented once the door was shut.

“She hates most people,” Draco replied.

“She hates me especially. You know she was the one that took the photo, right?”

Draco sighed, “I assumed as much, but I have no idea why.”

You scoffed, “You can’t be serious.”

Draco looked at you, waiting for an explanation and you rolled your eyes.

“She’s in love with you.”

“Come off it,” Draco said.

“I’m serious. She’s always followed you around like a lost duckling. She’s always trying to get your attention. For Pete’s sake, one time I heard her call you Drakie,” you said, giving an exaggerated imitation of Pansy’s voice.

“Childhood nickname.”

“Pet name.”

“She’s always been after my money.”

“And now?”

Draco’s mouth closed, cutting off another denial of her intentions.

“Exactly. She’s in love with you and she sees me as a threat.”

“Love seems like a strong word.”

“Considering the fact that she sent a photo of me and your childhood enemy to Rita Skeeter, knowing you and I were friends at the very least, and probably hoping for you to get angry like you did, I don’t think like would cover it.”

Draco nodded.

“I can’t imagine that she is aware of any… feelings though so I don’t understand why us being friends is a threat.”

“Now you can’t be serious,” Draco said. You were taken aback by the conviction in his voice and the bewildered look on his face.

“What? It’s not like she saw us in Hogsmeade.”

“For someone so smart you’re quite dense.”

“Hey!”

“(Y/N), I’m friends with Daphne, Astoria, and several other Slytherin girls. She’s never tried to sabotage them. Why would she only go after you?”

“Half-blood.”

“I’m seriously considering telling McGonagall to fire you.”

“Oi! Fuck off!”

Draco shook his head.

The two of you had reached the stairs at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower and Draco turned to face you.

“(Y/N), you’re an incredibly beautiful woman.”

Your eyes widened at the sincerity on his face and the way he held your gaze.

“But you’re not just a pretty face. You’re one of, if not the, smartest students here. A wit and wicked tongue unlike anyone else, but still thoughtful and considerate. You throw yourself so completely into what you believe in. I couldn’t even begin to quantify your strength, I can’t imagine what you went through here last year, I barely even saw the Battle and those memories keep me up at night. You’re everything she’s not. You’re everything no one else is.”

You had stopped breathing at some point. Confidence was something you would have never claimed to possess, but you weren’t a wallflower by any means, but this was too much. He was giving you too much credit.

You started to shake your head, but Draco grabbed your chin, gentle but firm.

“Don’t deny it, (Y/N). Everyone thinks it. Just because you don’t doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

You swallowed, your eyes searching his eyes for the punchline, too off-balance in the face of his speech to accept what he was saying as truth.

“Draco…” you started, but you didn’t know what to say.

“You see yourself as a background character, plain, unassuming, unimportant. But you’re important to me.”

You closed your eyes, not knowing what else to do.

“You have been for years.”

Your eyes shot open.

“Years?”

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seijorhi · 4 years

Text

Patience of a Saint

An Ushijima x virgin reader commission for the wonderful @hearteyes-candyskies, I hope you enjoy it, bby! 💕

Ushijima Wakatoshi x female reader

TW non-con, nsfw, smut, virgin reader

“Wait, you’re kidding me, right?”

Ushijima simply shrugs, “Why would I joke about something like that?”

Semi and Tendou share a glance, the former hiding a smirk behind the glass rim of his beer bottle. Tendou had been the one to drag them both downtown for ramen in the middle of the night, an impromptu reunion of sorts, now that the volleyball season had wrapped up and Tendou was back in Sendai.

Perhaps his first mistake had been to allow his friend the option to stay with him instead of booking a hotel. Though, truth be told, Tendou would have undoubtedly monopolised his time regardless of where he was staying, and Ushijima would have allowed him to.

They were friends, after all, and that was what friends did. He was just glad that Semi had been roped in alongside him.

When and how the conversation had steered towards his relationship with you, more specifically the details regarding your bedroom exploits together, Ushijima isn’t entirely sure, but he has no reason to lie to his friends.

The disbelieving look on Tendou’s face, however, makes him wonder if he’s said something wrong. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been dating this girl for how many months now, and you haven’t actually slept together yet?”

At that, Ushijima shakes his head. “We’ve slept together,” he corrects, taking a sip of his own beer. He likes sleeping with you, finds an odd sense of comfort he’s never felt before, waking up to find you curled against his side.

Most mornings Ushijima has no trouble getting out of bed for an early start. He’s found that lately, at least on the nights you stay over, that’s no longer the case.

The snort from his right is abruptly cut off into a choking cough as Semi tries and fails to mask his amusement. “He means sex, dude. You haven’t fucked her yet, have you?”

“No.”

The loud cackles from the ex-middle blocker are enough to draw the attention of several other patrons, but Tendou pays them no mind. “Why the hell not? Is she hideously ugly or something?”

“Nope,” Semi answers in his stead, a little too quickly for Ushijima’s liking. But he supposes he cannot blame his friend for noticing your attractiveness. You are, of course, beautiful - he’s told you many times.

A lone, red eyebrow quirks, glittering amusement dancing across Tendou’s face, “Are you… are you having trouble performing, big guy?”

Semi almost chokes on his mouthful, and even Ushijima feels the tips of his ears flush red. “No,” he asserts with a frown. “She…” he pauses, unsure for the first time whether this might be a line that he’s crossing to reveal something so personal between the two of you.

It’s not like he hasn’t discussed sex with them before. He has an almost uncomfortable amount of knowledge regarding the girls the redhead has been with, and Semi is no better.

(Semi was actually far, far worse.)

And truth be told he’s never been shy to share his own exploits with his friends, either. You might be the first girl that Ushijima’s ever loved, but love is not a necessary requirement for sex. He ensured that his partners left satisfied and so did he, there wasn’t anything more to it than that.

But you mean something to him. You mean everything.

“She… wants to wait,” he says quietly. “She’s-”

Tendou’s red eyes widen, his face transforming into an expression of delighted surprise as he puts it all together. “She’s a virgin?!”

“Hey, dumbass,” Semi grunts, smacking his old friend over the back of his head, “you wanna say that a little louder? I don’t think the entire restaurant heard you.”

Tendou waves off his admonishment with a flick of his wrist, his attention firmly fixed on the ace. “So I was right then? You found yourself a cute, innocent little virgin for a girlfriend?”

Ushijima doesn’t reply, he doesn’t need to.

He can still remember the scared look on your face the first time you stopped him, the way your hands shook and your pretty eyes filled with tears as you explained. Did you truly believe he would leave you over something as simple as that?

While he might have been… somewhat disappointed, he understood. He loves you, he’s known that for a while. He could be patient, wait for you to become accustomed to him, wait for you to get over your fears and apprehension.

Not that you make it easy for him. He knows you aren’t teasing him on purpose with low cut dresses and too short skirts, cuddling close in bed at night just so you can grind your ass against the swell of his cock, you’re too innocent for such things.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to ignore the heat that pools in his gut, the stirrings of desire and twitch of his cock every time you bend over in front of him and he’s rewarded with a perfect view. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s had to excuse himself to the bathroom, bracing himself against the wall, bent over and fisting his cock to the mental image of you spread out naked, desperate and begging before him.

“Wait, wait, hold up. I’m still a bit ticked off that you’ve been dating this girl for months and managed to hide her from me, your very best friend. I wanna see pics!”

Ushijima exhales, “You will meet her tomorrow-”

But it’s a fruitless endeavour, as Semi’s already scrolling through his phone to pull up your social media. Dutifully he passes it across the table, and Ushijima can only watch as Tendou’s eyes widen and a wicked grin creeps across his face.

“You, my big, beautiful, brawny friend, have the patience of a saint. My condolences.”

—

He meets you the very next day, and there’s a strange feeling in Ushijima’s chest as he watches you collapse into a fit of giggles at Tendou’s joke, the redhead’s arm slung casually over your shoulders.

He’s pleased that you get along with his old friends, it’s not something he’s ever had to concern himself with with his previous partners. They were nothing more than blips on a radar - not necessarily one night stands, but hardly worth introducing to the people who matter most to Ushijima.

Yet he can’t help but linger on Tendou’s comment from the night before.

You hadn’t told him that you were waiting for marriage. It wasn’t a religious vow you’d taken. It was just that you weren’t ready for sex yet. You asked for time.

And he’d understood. Your relationship was new, and he supposed that for your first time he was perhaps intimidating. You were shy. Nervous.

It was to be expected.

But hasn’t he proven by now that he can be gentle? That he loves you, and he has absolutely no intention of leaving you? You’re the only one he wants to be with - the only one he’ll ever want to be with. If you’re waiting for the right ‘one’ to lose your virginity to, what more does he have to do to convince you that he’s it?

Which makes him consider, watching you smile at him as you duck into his kitchen to grab some more snacks, whether you might not be as invested in this relationship as he is.

He doesn’t doubt that you love him, but even as you sidle up beside him, letting him tuck you to his side where you belong, he can’t help but question whether the true reason you haven’t allowed him to take you as he wants is because you’re still under the assumption that your relationship has an expiration date.

The thought doesn’t sit well with him.

Sex is separate from love, Ushijima knows that, but he’s also firmly of the belief that it can be an act of intimacy, an expression of love deeper than words or other actions can convey. He wants to feel that with you.

He wants to watch you writhing beneath him, your pussy squeezing around his cock, milking it for all it’s worth, lost in the ecstasy that only he can bring you.

He wants to know what sounds you’ll make, what pretty moans and gasps he can draw out from you as he fucks you within an inch of your sanity.

He wants to look in your eyes the first time he makes you cum, wants to take his time, to kiss you slowly, baptise you in pleasure and watch as you surrender yourself completely to the love he has for you.

Ushijima doesn’t have time to waste on romantic flings and relationships that will go nowhere. You are his future, so it does not make sense for you to keep holding yourself back where sex is concerned.

The sound of your laugh breaks through Ushijima’s musing and he’s pulled back to the present as you recount the story of how the two of you met to the redhead. He’s told Tendou before, but somehow the way you tell it made it sound better. You paint him in a better light, make yourself out to be the awkward one, stumbling over your apologies when it was his fault that you’d tripped in the first place.

You don’t have a clue about the weeks leading up to that moment, but it hardly matters. He’s content merely just to listen as you speak, your cheeks warming, long lashes fluttering as you glance up at him with that gentle smile of yours.

He loves you.

Across from the both of you, he catches the pointed look in Tendou’s eye-

It will be good for the both of you.

-and comes to a decision.

Unsurprisingly, the redhead just grins brightly when Ushijima corners him shortly afterwards, telling him that he will have to find somewhere else to stay for the night.

“No worries, I can crash at Semisemi’s,” he sings, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. “You two need your space, I get that.”

Ushijima nods, turning to leave, only for Tendou to reach out and stop him. “Yes?”

“You know, I kinda like her, Ushiwaka. Think she’ll be good for you, so try not to break her in two tonight, yeah?”

He frowns at the comment, causing Tendou to break into a fit of laughter.

By now, he should be used to his friend’s ribbing, but the thought of hurting you even as a joke doesn’t sit well with the ace.

To his credit, Tendou plays his role well. You all but beg him to stay for dinner, but he just mournfully shakes his head, sighing about Eita twisting his arm and forcing him to go watch him and his band play at some local bar.

And then, it’s just the two of you.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have put more effort into making this romantic for you. He’s never had to try with things like that before. He should have cooked dinner, and maybe considered candles and roses, or even music.

Instead, you order takeout and eat it sprawled across Ushijima’s lap, and he cannot find it within himself to mind. The most mundane activities are made better simply for you being by his side, he’s found.

He waits, fingers casually stroking along your arm as you curl up to his side to watch something on TV. You seem to be enjoying it, if the giggles that spill from your lips are anything to go by, but Ushijima finds himself distracted by the gnawing feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, an eagerness that has him twitching to act.

It doesn’t help that he’s all too aware of the softness of your body pressing against his.

But he won’t have your first time together be on his living room couch, of all places. He has enough patience to wait for weariness to set in, and when you yawn trying to muffle it against his shoulder, Ushijima almost smiles. “Why don’t we go to bed?”

You nod, and he presses a gentle kiss to your hair before helping you up.

He knows that you like to shower before sleeping, and while there’s a voice in his head that whispers for him to go and join you, Ushijima simply strips out of his clothes, sits on the edge of his bed and waits.

When you emerge from the steam, smelling faintly of the vanilla and citrus body wash he’d bought after the first night you’d stayed over, he stiffens. Instead of your usual sleeping attire (an old tee-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts) you’re clad solely in one of his fluffy towels, hair still damp, skin glistening with stray droplets of water.

“Hey, sorry I forgot my-” you pause, words trailing off as you take in the sight of your boyfriend, utterly naked. For a split second, you freeze in place, eyes wide and lips softly parted, like a deer caught in headlights.

And then, just as Ushijima moves to stand, you snap out of it.

“Oh my god!” you cry, whirling around and clutching the knot of your towel, hiding yourself from his view and burying your face in your hands. “I-I’m sorry!”

It’s rather adorable how flustered you get by something as natural as nakedness.

“Why wou- you know what, nevermind. I…uh, I forgot my clothes, they’re just on my bag I think, could you, um- could you please pass them to me?”

He spies them, folded neatly on the top of the overnight bag you’d packed. Instead, he reaches out to take your hand and gently tug you back towards him.

“Wakatoshi, what are you-” but your surprised protests are swallowed up as he leans down to kiss you. Yet instead of softening to his touch, allowing him to take the lead as he usually does, you stiffen in his arms, your hands finding their way to his bare chest, trying to push him away.

“Toshi, just- just stop for a second, please?” you gasp, managing to extricate yourself from the kiss.

That won’t do.

He has to be gentle with you, but with anticipation coiling in his gut, his cock stirring at the thought of your almost naked body pressed against his, it’s easy for him to forget his strength as he rids you of the offending material, bends down and hefts you up into his arms.

“Shh, little one,” he says, ignoring your shouts as he takes the three steps over to his bed so he can lay you down. “I know you’re scared, but you have no need to be. I won’t hurt you. I’m going to make us both feel good, I promise.”

He bestows another kiss against your forehead as he climbs over your trembling frame.

“Babe… Toshi, please- I-I’m not, I don’t-” your eyes are wide and filling with tears and you’re shaking your head - it fills him with a flicker of unease, but he knows deep down that this is just temporary.

You need this as much as he does, and once he shows you how wonderful he can make you feel, you’ll thank him.

Cradling your cheek with one large hand, he tries to tell you as much.

But your breath is coming in quick pants, your terrified eyes darting past his broad frame as if you’re trying to look for an escape route while pleas and whimpers spill almost incoherently from your lips, and he realises that words won’t be enough.

He’ll just have to show you.

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing you once more before turning his attention to the rest of your body. It’s not the first time he’s seen you bared, of course, but it is the first time he’s been allowed the luxury of taking his time to enjoy it.

Your whimpers are soft and distressed as his lips trail down the column of your throat, resisting the urge to nip and suck at the tender skin, and you squirm under him when his mouth finds your breasts. The sounds you make for him, your choked little gasps only feed the pit of hunger deep inside of him. You must be able to feel his cock, big and thick, rutting up against your stomach, leaving a shining trail of oozing pre-cum across your skin as he busies himself playing with your tits.

They’re soft and pillowy, just the perfect size for his hands to grasp and knead, and the way that you keen for him, jerking a little when he sucks a nipple into his mouth and laves his tongue over the pebbling bud is utterly captivating. You’re so caught up in the attention he’s paying to your chest that you miss the hand that trails down your side, snaking between your trembling thighs.

At least until long, thick digits swipe along your folds.

Like a frightened little rabbit, your eyes widen and you jolt into action. “Wakatoshi, stop!” you cry, hands finding his chest once more to try and push him off of you, your legs kicking out uselessly beneath him.

His expression softens, his thumb sweeping against your thigh in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “Shh, it’s okay. I need to prepare you to take me, otherwise it will hurt.”

If anything, your expression only becomes more panicked. “No, no, no, no-”

“Let me take care of my girl. You’ll feel good,” he murmurs, and already his fingers are sliding back to your pussy. You’re not as wet as he’d like, but it’s no matter, as his thumb finds your clit, his other fingers returning to tease at your entrance.

The soft little moan you try and fail to bite back as one finger slides inside of you sends a rush of blood straight to his cock. It twitches and throbs, aching for relief and perhaps if you were anybody else, he might throw caution to the wind and fuck you right then and there, regardless of whether you were ready or not.

But as you shiver, gasping as he curls the thick digit inside of you, he’s reminded that he needs to have patience. You are not worth rushing, and despite the feral beast inside of him that’s snapping and snarling to sink into your heat, he wants to savour this.

You only get one first time, and he’s determined to make yours unforgettable.

“That’s just one finger,” he tells you, his thumb circling your clit in slow, steady movements. “You’re going to take three before I can fuck you properly, understand?”

He doesn’t want to break you in half, after all.

You still writhe beneath him, shaking and jolting as he teases your shining pearl and coaxes your pussy into accepting another finger, and when he lowers his mouth back to your tits to add to the pleasure building inside of you, a sob bursts free.

“Please- please, Toshi!”

A third finger prods at your entrance-

“Please don’t!”

He almost winces at the sharp hiss of pain that escapes you, but he reassures himself that it will only be for a moment. The stretch and burn will give way to pleasure as he fucks them into you slowly. Your pussy is so warm, so tight, sucking the digits in deeper and when rough fingertips brush against a particular spot on your walls and you cry out, Ushijima allows a small, adoring smile to cross his face.

“Good girl,” he purrs, quickening his pace.

You’ve always been so beautiful to him, but when you cum for him that first time, face flushed and dewy, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try not to scream in pleasure, he doesn’t think there’s anything on earth that could possibly compare.

The same could be said about the way you taste, he thinks, greedily sucking your juices off of his fingers.

“Wakatoshi,” you beg, lying spent across his bed still reeling from the afterglow of your orgasm as he slides your thighs further apart so he can settle between them. He grunts a little as he wraps his hand around his flushed cock and guides it to your sopping entrance, marvelling at the way you shiver and mewl when he nudges it against your oversensitive clit.

Olive eyes find yours, and he cannot resist leaning down to claim your lips once more as he sinks slowly inside of you.

The sound that escapes him is deep and guttural, but the feel of your warm pussy clenching around his throbbing cock is simply heaven, and he almost - almost - loses control.

Forcing his eyes open, he watches your face as you take his cock, feeling every vein and ridge stretch you out, the pained whimpers that slip from behind clenched teeth. He knows that he’s bigger than average, that his girth is impressive and that even with his foreplay you’re still squeezing around him like a vice, but he forces himself to take it slow, to allow you the time to adjust.

He almost starts when you reach out to grab him, fingers painfully sinking into the muscles of his forearm as you fight off another wave of tears, so he pauses for a beat, peppering your face with more kisses. “You��re doing so well for me, such a good girl.”

When your grip eases, he resumes moving, drawing his hips back and trying not to curse at the friction your slick walls are creating.

“I love you,” he grunts, “so much.”

And then he rocks his hips forward - steadily, filling you up again, allowing you to get used to his girth. He kisses you, trails rough fingertips gently along your skin, teases you finding all the sensitive spots that make you moan for him.

Gradually, he feels you relax around him.

The obscene sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin is drowned out by your soft whines and pants as Ushijima slowly picks up the pace. He fucks you deeply, but not roughly, taking care not to hurt you anymore than necessary.

It’s slow and sensual - your body can’t help but respond to his ministrations, and when you clench around him, sucking him deeper Ushijima can’t help but groan, feeling the tight coil of heat in his core burn as pleasure ripples through him.

He wants more. Needs it.

Ushijima’s hands wrap around your thighs, easing them back towards your chest so that your ankles fall over his broad shoulders. He kisses at your calf when confusion flickers across your face, but doesn’t offer any explanation as he snaps his hips forward once more. The choked scream that leaves your lips is beautiful, but he can barely focus on that when he finally bottoms out, his balls slapping against your ass as another hoarse groan leaves him.

He promised himself that he would be gentle with you, but as your velvety walls quiver and convulse around him and your lips fall open in another soundless scream as your second orgasm hits, he’s not entirely sure that he’ll be able to keep that promise.

There’s a tightening in his balls and he can feel the tether he has on his control fraying little by little as you moan for him, your hips rocking up to meet his fervent thrusts. You’re beautiful, perfect, and he’s losing himself to the feeling of being buried inside of you. It’s indescribable, the way your pussy’s fluttering around him, clenching and pulsing, kissing his cock with sweltering heat - it feels like the very edges of his sanity are blurring as he fucks himself deeper inside of you, his cockhead hitting your cervix with every thrust. He wants to cum, wants to fill you up with his thick load again and again and again, wants you so full it’s leaking out of you-

It won’t be enough, it’ll never be enough.

He loves you, and Ushijima won’t ever be satisfied again without the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, milking him for every drop that he’s worth.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere ushijima wakatoshi #yandere ushijima x reader #yandere ushijima #yandere ushijima wakatoshi x reader #tw non con #virgin reader

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dragonmuse · 2 years

Note

When did you realize you were ready for marriage?

Ok, I would say first off, I do not consider myself a good role model for deciding on a long term relationship. We sort of fell down the stairs of many relationship mistakes in the beginning, and were lucky that the people we were at the bottom of those stairs were still very much in love with each other.

I thought I was ready from the jump of meeting my husband at the tender and inadvisable age of 21. I was convinced, in the way only someone with very little life experience can be (not a product of age necessarily, though it helps, just my life to that point) that I had met The One. Luckily, my future husband could not have been less ready (he had two failed engagements behind him already). And just for you anon, I asked him what made him feel ready, four and a half years into our relationship:

"Everything just seemed to match up, everything was falling into place, we were living together, we were financially secure, we had stable jobs, we were very in sync with each other domestically, and relationship-wise everything made sense."

So there's that.

What I will say from the privilege of time and space making everything clearer, that we mostly got married because everyone expected us to. I wanted to get married because I wanted people to stop invalidating our fucking relationship. My BOSS at the time said when she found out another month had passed without us getting engaged 'Maybe he's just not that into you.'

My parents thought he was stringing me along. My friends thought he wasn't serious. I started to believe them.

We had been together for well over four years and no one believed that he was in it for the long haul. We were saving for a house. We were planning the rest of our lives, naming imaginary future children, but somehow that wasn't enough for anyone. So it became not enough for me and not enough for him.

It changed literally nothing, emotionally. The day after our wedding was the same as the day before in all the important ways. We were no more dedicated to each other, no more in love. Maybe a little more relaxed because wedding planning in stressful.

You know what changed things? Buying a damn house. Holy shit, that is a scary day. So much money sinking into something that will only cost you more money. And then you are financially stuck with this other person in a very visceral way.

Having a KID, holy shit, a thousand times bigger. A human exists because of us. A whole ass, very adorable, very exhausting, human. That changes literally everything. Now if we break up, there's a third person's life that will be profoundly affected!

....I have no idea if this answers your question anymore, anon, sorry there.

I think it's just that I want people to know that you can not get married to someone and it could still me an amazing life. I would urge you to make sure you have some legal protection if you're long term, create the documents that make the worst situations like medical crisis, a little easier to handle. That's what marriage is, mostly. It's a short-hand legal route to many things.

Weddings are nice. Expensive, but nice. You get pictures like this so that's cool (the pics of us together are better, but he's shy about photos so enjoy this one)

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dancingamongstdust · 3 years

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MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 4)

Requests are still open as of this post.

Shigaraki

You hadn’t meant to cause that level of destruction. It was an accident.

But they hadn’t seen it that way.

Their words followed you even when they could not. You could hear the accusations ringing in your head whenever you used your quirk – for better, or for worse. It became easier to ignore as you slowly learned to stop caring.

Until your quirk went out of control again.

You woke up in a dark room with a pounding headache and exhausted limbs. The doctor who was looking after you (a man you were relatively certain had no actual medical knowledge) had gotten very close and asked how much you remembered. When you informed him that it wasn’t much, he had smiled.

“Well, you certainly drew attention to yourself,” he had laughed. “Perhaps you should consider yourself lucky that the heroes didn’t get to you first.”

“I guess so…”

Something warned you that this situation was more dangerous than it seemed. Your eyes drifted over the covered windows of the room and you stared at the door. “Why did you help me?”

“Well that’s hardly for me –“

He didn’t get a chance to answer before you dashed for the exit. The doctor’s quirk didn’t allow him to grab you and his alarmed shout was all you heard before you were darting down the hallway. You weren’t going to stick around and get experimented on.

You turned the corner, heart pounding in your chest. They must have given you something because you felt drowsy. The entire world was spinning.

But you had to nearly trip yourself up to avoid running directly into somebody as you sprinted down a different hallway.

This was hardly your first time dealing with villains and many of them had odd quirks, to say the least. It shouldn’t have shocked you to see somebody with a human hand on their face but maybe the medication was lowering your tolerance because it was terrifying.

“Who are you?” you snapped out, immediately on the defense. You took a step away, ready to run or fight, whichever seemed easiest.

The man didn’t seem too bothered by your snap at least; the one eye that you could see watched you steadily from behind his hand mask. “I’m sure you’re not meant to be running around here,” he said. “But you’re no hero so you must be here for your quirk. Do you still have it?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t unknown in the underground that there was a man who stole quirks he liked. Nobody knew what he did with them but it wasn’t unheard of for villains to wake up with nothing. And you would never get them back.

You could feel your quirk was still there. It pulsed under your skin like a warning.

“My quirk?” you repeated. “I have my quirk.”

You did a random gesture, summoning all of your past acting experience to appear horrified when nothing happened. Again and again you tried before looking around in shock and horror.

The guy bought it and he shrugged. “Then there’s no reason to stop you.” He brushed past you and continued walking. “Not like you could find the exit anyway.”

The moment he turned the corner, you dropped the act and bolted again. This place was a maze but you found the exit and avoided any encounters with a practiced ease. Before leaving, you looked back up at the building and grimaced, hoping to never see it again.

Toga

It was late at night when you had the strangest encounter of your life. Not that that was a bad thing necessarily but it was something that occurred, nevertheless.

You had been feeling quite exhausted from a long day of fun with your friends. They had headed off to get a cab when you had realised that you needed the bathroom and disappeared to go find one.

There was a public toilet not too far from the street though it certainly wasn’t as clean as you would have hoped. Not to be deterred, you slipped in and found a sight that, even to your exhausted mind was uncomfortable.

A girl stood in front of one of the mirrors, blood staining much of her face. It covered the counter beneath her fingers and seemed to be coming from her lip.

“Are you okay?!” you asked, panicked.

She looked up at you, startled. Her dark hair covered much of her expression but she seemed a little out of it. Maybe she got hit on the head or something.

“I –“ she paused, her voice croaky and sore. She brought her hand up to rub her throat. “I think so.”

“Just wait, let me help you,” you said. You rushed into one of the stalls and gathered up some toilet paper. “Do you need me to call somebody or?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No. Thank you.”

You offered some of the damp tissue to her and she started wiping it away from her mouth. While she dealt with that, you cleaned the blood that she had left on the counter, making sure to get it out of all the cracks in and around the sink. “What happened to you?” you asked. “Did somebody attack you?”

“I slipped,” she said. “The tiles are really slippery and I think that I hit my mouth on the sink. It’s all kind of blurry.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, digging through your bag and grabbing some headache tablets. You offered the bottle to her. “Take two of those just in case. Even if it doesn’t hurt now, you don’t want to wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Do I still have any blood on me?”

“Just on your jaw,” you pointed out. “Come on, my friends and I are getting a cab. We can call one for you also if you need.”

She took one last glance in the mirror before leaving. You had forgotten your own need for the bathroom and it was for good reason also. If you had hung around for a little longer, you may have seen blood trickling out from one of the stalls. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been so worried about this stranger hitting her head.

“What’s your name?” you asked as you looked around for your friends.

“Toga,” the girl said, though she didn’t seem too happy with having told you. The words must have slipped out without her meaning to.

You gave her your own name and went up onto your toes to look around the crowd for your friends. Eventually you spotted them and waved but when you spoke to Toga, she didn’t respond.

She had disappeared into the crowd.

You went back into the bathroom and checked but she was long gone. Just like how the blood has escaped your notice earlier, you didn’t see the blonde watching you from the other side of the street, her head tilted a little.

Dabi

It was a rare day when you found yourself alone without at least one person to watch your back. You didn’t always need the protection but sometimes, it was nice to have.

But you had given your word and it wouldn’t do to back out of this now.

The building where everything had been organised was old and crumbling – its ancient nature hidden on the outskirts of the city and slowly becoming overtaken by countless plants. It wasn’t somewhere anybody with good intentions would find themselves.

You liked to think that your work was good. It benefitted many and took only from those who could afford to lose it. Unfortunately though, rules had to be broken for the best results, and sometimes what was classified as ‘wrong’ turned out to be needed in order to achieve a goal. It wasn’t quite in line with what you believed but it had to be done.

Did working with villains make you uncomfortable? Of course. But it was hardly going to be something that stopped you from moving forward.

The two members from the League of Villains that had been sent to meet you were both men. You didn’t bother with greetings, just holding up the briefcase that you held.

“I’m looking for a specific artwork,” you said. “I’ve been told that you might be able to help?”

“An artwork?” the one asked. He wore a white and black mask that concealed most of his face and an extremely gaudy costume.

“Not just an artwork,” you explained. “It has something of mine hidden in the canvas. Normally, I would just get the police involved but if they found it, it would be quite problematic for me. The group that stole it won’t listen to many but the League of Villains, I’m afraid. They have a few good quirks and they’re extremely cocky for it.”

“We’re not lapdogs,” the other man said. “Especially not for whatever agenda you’re pushing.”

“I don’t pay lapdogs,” you acknowledged. “Consider me a sponsor.”

Flames cackled into existence in his hand, surprising his colleague enough to jump a little. “Chances are, they’ve already found your thing. Even if they haven’t, the league can hardly go around picking fights with random gangs.”

“Shigaraki did ask –“

The masked man was cut off by a glare. Blue flames sent flickering light through the air as they waited patiently for your answer.

“If it’s already been discovered or if it happens to get damaged during the process, then I don’t plan on getting anything out of our deal. It’ll simply be a loss on my side.”

The flames slowly flickered out and you allowed yourself to breathe again. Confidence was a requirement for these deals but you didn’t quite have the nerves of steel that you portrayed. It was always a fight to keep your reactions in check.

“I guess if we happen to bump into the group, we can check around for your shit.”

You knew his bluff as well as your own. The League of Villains had always worked well with those who had money. They required funding and wouldn’t say no to being able to flex their reputation around the underground. It was almost needed with the way rumours were circulating.

It was less than a week after that encounter when you found your artwork sitting outside your home. Charred on the edges, it was damaged enough to make the art itself worthless. But your items inside were perfectly unharmed.

Not bad for your first time working alongside the League of Villains. It was worth the cost… you should do it more in the future.

Twice

When you had been called in for this job, you had no idea that it was going to turn into a fight of the magnitude you experienced.

Flames tore along the streets. They melted lamps and trapped hundreds inside buildings – the screams for help becoming almost deafening as you broke down yet another wall to get civilians out. It was the third building you had had to smash into and there were more yet.

Nobody could get out and, if they remained trapped, they wouldn’t survive much longer.

When your partner and you had realised you were dealing with the League of Villains, you had immediately called in the big guns. What you hadn’t realised was that doing so would result in a brawl of sorts in the streets. The League of Villains didn’t care about collateral and honestly, sometimes you wondered if the heroes did.

You were starting to overheat. The amount of fire swirling around was getting to you, drawing the breath from your lungs and slowing your movements. Its angry blue nature hinted at its abysmal nature.

The next building’s walls took even longer to get through but you managed it and a few people scrambled out. You ushed as best as you could although it was starting to get hard to speak.

But then you noticed a dark figure lying in one of the rooms

Outside, the fire roared and smacked against the walls but you couldn’t just leave somebody there. You stepped over the rubble and made your way to the figure.

It was hard to make out details with the flames. The heat seemed to be getting worse as you approached – soon identified as being caused by the gaping hole in the wall. It radiated around the room in waves. You covered your mouth and nose the best you could, creeping forward to reach where the person was.

When you arrived, it took you no time to recognise that you weren’t saving an unfortunate civilian but rather a member of the League itself.

You hesitated for a second before hooking your arms under his and beginning to drag him away from the danger. This was the type of thing that lost reputation for heroes. Civilians didn’t like seeing villains being rescued but you honestly didn’t care.

If he was left there, he was probably going to end up dying.

Though he had seemed unconscious, when you got him out of the building, he muttered something and moved. It was enough to make you jump back but he didn’t attack or anything. He just touched his face and then let his arm go limp again.

You moved back cautiously. His suit had been ripped on the one side, missing its arm and half of the torso. You checked his pulse, relieved to feel that it was still going, even if it was unsteady.

“Can you hear me?” you asked.

He didn’t respond and you reached up to remove his mask. His hand immediately snapped up to grab your wrist and you prepared to activate your quirk but all he did was push your arm away from his face.

Alright then. No touching the mask.

You bandaged the open wound on his side as best as you could. It looked like he had gotten launched through the building. Once he was as stable as he could be, you moved him to a safer area and jumped back into the fray. A ton of rescues later and the heroes had won, at the destruction of much property.

And, rather unsurprisingly, the villain you had saved was long gone.

Overhaul

There was a new drug running around the market. You had heard of a number of small-time villains taking it – most of them dying shortly after consumption. It wasn’t unheard of. If something had even the promise of a good time then it would attract thousands.

But what was a problem was that you had lost several of your newest underlings as a direct result of this drug.

Given how picky you were about hiring, this was going to be a problem.

You tracked the source to none other than the Shie Hassaikai. They were an old branch of the yakuza, sitting on the edge of a downward spiral into irrelevance. Rumors followed that their boss had fallen quite ill and now, it was only a matter of time until they fell completely on their faces.

So you didn’t feel too nervous when you approached the house that fronted their main base. Even with the members watching you from the bushes, you kept a straight line.

You weren’t unknown. It would do them a great disservice to attack you.

And they knew it.

You walked in the front door with absolutely no resistance and remained unsurprised when two masked men came out to greet you. They didn’t ask about your business or enquire as to who you were. Instead, they led you into a sitting room and gestured for you take a seat.

Instead of that, you walked around the room and picked up everything that looked interesting. Nothing was hidden around but you hadn’t expected there to be.

“Please don’t touch things without gloves on,” a smooth voice interrupted your curiosity. “Cleaning this entire house is rarely needed and I’d rather you didn’t change that.”

You turned around to find somebody considerably younger than you had expected for the head of the Shie Hassaikai. He wore their signature mask and a feathered coat, almost his entire body hidden in some way.

“Not a fan of germs?” you enquired.

“Not at all.”

You shrugged and made your way to the couch, sinking down into it. “Guess that means no drinks or anything? Oh well, that’s too bad.” You gestured for him to sit. “So, you’re not who I was expecting.”

“You’ve never worked with our organisation before,” he said, sitting on the edge of the chair opposite you.

“No. You’re not in the same line of work as me and I don’t care too much about the Yakuza.”

“Then why are you here?”

You straightened, aware that you were about to get into the most dangerous part of the meeting. “Your drugs have been getting into my areas. Now, I don’t care all too much about how you distribute stock but it’s not just coming into possession of low-life criminals. My men are getting practically gifted it.”

His eyes narrowed. “We need to test it somehow. Besides, that sounds like a problem for you, no? Have better control of your men.”

“Keep your test tube shit out of my territories.”

A small staring contest took place – a test to see who would break first. You had been in almost a hundred of these over the course of your career. They didn’t bother you much at all in anymore.

Eventually he waved his hand through the air. “I guess we could stop supply to traders in your areas but this isn’t a charity.”

“I could kill your men.”

“But you would lose your own in the process. Wouldn’t it be easier to do this the peaceful way and maybe even establish a relationship between our two groups?”

“You have my attention. Don’t waste it.”

Kurogiri

There are those days when everything begins so well only to rapidly spiral into a situation out of your worst dreams. This was something like that.

You had gotten horribly caught in the crossfire of a battle between heroes and villains. It all occurred faster than you could have ever imagined – flashes of light and explosions of sound. People were screaming, the sound coming through a haze as you tried to get a grasp on what had happened.

Blood was trickling down your arm but you felt no pain. You slowly lifted your head. Something had hit you, you remembered that now as your brain caught up to the dull ache coming from your ribcage.

You tried to move, finding that you couldn’t. The ache became worse and a heavy, scraping sound interrupted your attempts to crawl away.

It was a piece of concrete, heavy and painful, pinning you effectively to the ground. A smaller chunk was holding it up and stopping you from being crushed. But if you moved too much…

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, nearly choking on the dust that filled the air. Maybe if you shifted slowly.

A crunching noise made you hiccup.

Alright, so that wasn’t going to work either. You strained your eyes to see through the carnage but you couldn’t make out any heroes. They would come eventually; you just had to wait patiently and try not to move too much.

The concrete seemed to get heavier still and you fought the desire to cry.

There was a crunching sound. You couldn’t just wait around.

Slow as you dared, you began to inch forward. The rough surface snagged at your clothing and made every centimeter feel like it was going to end with you crushed. Worse still, the more you moved, the more apparent the injury on your back became.

The blood that had been trickling down your arm was now creeping along your torso. It pooled in your clothes and made everything sticky.

You tried not to think about it but it made you light-headed regardless.

About half-way out, you spotted somebody nearby. It was just their silhouette but still, relief flooded your veins and you cried out desperately for help.

The figure made its way over to you, soon revealing that the man was almost entirely made of smoke. He wore a suit and tie but his body swirled as though only somewhat solid. Bright yellow eyes stared at you – any emotion behind them was completely unreadable.

His eyes traced your shape. “You’re not who I’m looking for.”

“Please help me. This thing’s going to crush me.”

He paused, the swirling darkness that made up his face shuddered as though it was unsure how to respond. “I should leave you here,” he mentioned. “You’re of no consequence to me or to my cause. If anything, I should add pressure to the piece of rubble and make sure the fatality numbers are higher.”

You caught of whimper before it could escape. “Please.”

His smoke shook again, almost as though he was struggling to keep hold of it. Then he raised a foot and placed it on the concrete.

You screwed your eyes shut and tried to imagine the best parts of life.

A loud horn blaring made you open them again and a surprised yelp escaped as you saw tires race past in front of you. People were shouting, their voices loud and nearby. Bright lights surrounded you and the air was clear once more.

The last thing you remembered seeing was a panicked nurse rushing over to you.

#my hero academia #mha #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #shigaraki x reader #dabi x reader #toga x reader #twice x reader #kurogiri x reader #overhaul x reader

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eryiss · 2 years

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The Perils Of Matchmaking

Summary: Freed knew he and Laxus couldn't last, and he was meant to marry someone else. But, at his engagement party, he realises the mistake he's made. But is it too late?

Notes: Hi all. Day for of @fuckyeahfraxus Fraxus Week. This one is inspired by royal romances. It also has a side ship of Rufus x Orga, which was really fun to write. I hope you enjoy it.

Links: Ao3, FFN

The Perils of Matchmaking

As a prospective mate, there was nothing necessarily wrong with Rufus.

Freed knew that he would have to marry the man, so he should probably start being more optimistic about him. He should also start referring to Rufus as his fiancé rather than his prospective mate, but it was the only way he could protest the ridiculous lot in life he'd been given, and he would do so until he could no longer speak. Words like fiancé, lover, and partner were far too romantic anyway, that was hardly an accurate descriptor for what was happening between Prince Freed Justine, third of his name, and Viscount Rufus Lore.

Rufus was fine, but not much else. He was elegant, handsome, and charming enough, but not to Freed's taste. He was simply a little too… royal. He had probably been prepared from childhood to be Freed's ideal husband, and as such he'd had his personality whipped away. Or maybe he'd always been this way, Freed didn't know.

That was Freed's main problem with Rufus: he didn't know him.

Optimistically, Freed would say they had met maybe three times in their lives. Once, when they were children, Rufus had been invited to the palace so Freed could meet boys his own age. Once on Freed's sixteenth birthday, when Rufus had been invited as the guest of honour despite Freed not remembering his name. And the current time, at their engagement party. All in all, Freed would say they'd had about seven hours in each other's company in their lives, and now they were expected to be wed and to be happy about it. Freed had to wonder at his parents' delusion, because they were really acting as if this day was the best of his life. They genuinely seemed to think that he would be delighted with this turn of events.

Maybe he was being cruel in an immediate dismissal. They'd chosen a man over a woman, and Freed knew of many kingdoms where that wouldn't be an option. And, on paper, he and Rufus could be seen as kindred spirits. Intellectuals at heart, a similar shared fashion style, and likely they were both born to a lifestyle the general populous wouldn't understand. But, speaking with Rufus just made Freed feel flat. Stilted. Uninterested.

The party was already a rambunctious affair, with the usually reserved and stiff collared people of the palace seemingly free and loose from their restrictions. They danced and drank and laughed, and it felt like Freed was the only person there struggling with the event. He wondered if it showed on his face.

Probably. He didn't have much to smile about.

Obviously, he had known this was coming, but it didn't make things any easier. As he sat at the head of the table, his future mate beside him, he felt hollow and bored and miserable in equal measures. The lavishness around him seemed to taunt him, like a trap that nobody else could see. The ring on his finger was the shackle, one that he would be with for the rest of his life.

He gulped down a solemn swallow at the thought of his future. That had always been out of his control, but recently it didn't feel like it. The past year, he had seen the cracks in his gilded cage and felt like he could break free from it. But not anymore, not without Laxus.

Where was Laxus? It was all Freed could think about.

Of course, he wasn't at the party, he was far too low a rung on the castle's ladder. He was a knight, so likely was standing at one of the doors, keeping them safe and contributing to the world rather than dictating it. Freed could probably find him, if he were so inclined, and spin a lie about needing air to tender his thoughts and better give his future husband the attention he deserved, but he thought against it. Standing beside Laxus was nothing, certainly not compared to lying in his arms.

Thinking of Laxus was the worst thing he could do, of course. The heart could only yearn for what the mind gave focus to, but knowing that didn't change Freed. All he could think of was the night before, where he'd slept in Laxus' arms.

----

"We could run," Freed said, voice low and quiet. "Steal a horse and some jewels, flee the country and live as we pleased."

Laxus chuckled, and Freed was rocked slightly by the movement of his body. They were in Laxus' barracks, tucked close in the cot bed and huddled under the scratchy blankets they were provided. Nobody else in the barracks was awake, and Freed doubted they would speak up if they did. The entire guard's unit knew of he and Laxus' relationship, and Freed wouldn't be shocked if it was castle gossip all around.

"Where would we go?" Laxus asked, a finger gently drawing spirals into Freed's back. "Not the south, right?"

"Of course," Freed huffed out an offended scoff. "Far too hot a climate. No, somewhere to the north, where it snows. The mountains, perhaps. You could build us a cabin; it should be easy for you with how often you boast your practical skills."

"I could," Laxus nodded a little, and Freed smiled. He yawned and let his eyes flutter closed, his cheek brushing Laxus' chest. "Or we could get a house that's already been built. With a bed and a kitchen and everything your princely ass couldn't live without."

"A beautiful view would tend to all my needs," Freed assured him, then yawned again. "And with you around, I'm sure that wouldn't be a problem."

"You're bein' charming now, huh?"

"No, simply pointing out that you're so ridiculously tall that sitting on your shoulders would put me higher than any ugly intrusion," Freed smiled as Laxus laughed and pulled him closer. "I'm sure that, with your help, I could see the ocean from any part of the kingdom without hindrance."

"Nah, you just think I'm beautiful," Laxus pushed, and Freed was not going to argue with that. "So, we're living in the mountains in a cabin that I've built, huh? You gonna contribute anything to this or just sit on your ass and look at the view."

"Would providing materials for the house count?"

"Not if you want all the prince jokes to stop."

"I could learn to hunt," Freed mused, eyes closing as he considered. "I've shot animals before, so if we stole a rifle then I could use that. And if not, then I'm sure you could train me to use a knife. That would work better, I expect. No need to rely on a town for ammunition. We could be self sufficient. Just the two of us."

"Is that what you'd want?" Laxus asked, sounding tired himself. "Just the two of us."

"It's something I think about a lot," Freed gently ran a hand down Laxus' stomach, cold skin a nice contrast to Freed's warmer body. "The two of us together. No need to consider what other people think. No need to hide away from the crowds and my parents. No need to be anything but in love with each other."

"You need to be alone for that?" Laxus asked, and there was a tinge of an emotion there. An emotion Freed couldn't identify but didn't like.

"I would make you my consort at this moment if I could. I would parade you around with such pride that nobody in this kingdom would dare doubt my adoration for you. I would declare my love for you on the world's stage, but I can't," Freed pressed a light kiss onto Laxus' chest. "But there's precedent for breaking the tradition of matchmaking. If the current King or Queen aren't in support of the match, the attacks begin. Everyone in society will slander you, dredge up everything you've done and paint it in a way that makes you look awful. You'll be after money and power, and you'd only be with me to use me. Or you'd be reduced to a pretty face that turned me away from my duties. If my family isn't united in your support, you're the enemy. You'd be forced to dine with men who want to hurt you, each and every day, and I don't think I can put you through that."

"What if I think you're worth all of that?" Laxus asked.

"Then I would doubt your judgement," Freed sighed, looking up at Laxus' with sad eyes. "I don't know what we can do, Laxus. But I know what it's like to have an entire kingdom judging you, and that's horrid enough when they seem to like you. Having that many people hate you - and to have them hate you for loving someone - it would be unimaginable. I can't think that wouldn't be hell on earth," He averted his eyes, speaking quietly. "I can't imagine it wouldn't ruin what we have. I'm scared of you growing to not love me anymore. I'm sorry if it's selfish."

"It's not selfish," Laxus murmured. "I hate it, I'm not gonna pretend I don't, but I'm not gonna push you to do anything you don't want to do."

"Would you say yes," Freed whispered. "If I could make it happen, would you rule beside me? Be my prince?"

"It'd be an honour," Laxus' voice was so quiet, Freed could barely hear it, but the words nursed him into a soft, dream filled sleep.

----

"I can't do this," Rufus' voice cut through Freed's thoughts, and it took him a moment to realise Rufus was looking at him. He was smiling as if sharing a secret between lovers, but his tone belied his inner turmoil. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

"You can't do what?" Freed asked, wondering after the smile.

"Marry you," Rufus said it so quietly that nobody but Freed would have been able to hear it. "I'm truly sorry if this is something that you wanted, but I'm of the idea that love trumps convenience and the desire for social advancement. I played along with this, I didn't know what else to do, but this is far too much for me. A wedding without love is a contradiction in terms. This night has been hellish - a night of sitting on thrones and being catered to - and I can't endure a life like this. I can't marry you, Prince Justine. I'm sorry but I can't."

Freed looked at Rufus properly for the first time, and it was like looking at a new man. He still wore the fake smile, probably to stop anyone looking from realising what they were discussing, but there was an honesty and openness in him now. If they were alike as Freed thought they were, he could only imagine one thing that would bring out such openness.

"Who are they? The person who has claimed your heart so strongly."

"Orga Nanagear," Rufus whispered, and smiled earnestly at the name. Freed gaped at the familiar name.

"Dreng Orga Nanagear?" He parroted the name, adding the title to the start of it. "The scourge of the northern seas? The warrior of lightning? That Orga Nanagear?"

"He'll be delighted to know his reputation proceeds him this far into land," Rufus laughed to himself. "And yes, the very same."

"How in the god's name did that happen?" Freed spluttered, fascination drowning out everything else.

Under his breath, Rufus told Freed the first love story he had ever believed in. Rufus, under his father's command, needed to earn his place in the family business. He had been sent to the north to negotiate for a cheaper price of fish from one of his father's suppliers. Rufus had been arrogant and assumed it would be easy, and as such had conducted his negotiation on the boat itself. It had not gone well, a scuffle had occurred, and the fishermen had pushed Rufus overboard and left him to swim back to the coastline despite being miles away from it. He would have likely drowned in the churning ocean, if it weren't for the Viking captain Dreng Orga Nanagear, who fished him from the ocean and took him back to shore.

Rufus had caught a cold after his dunking in the ocean, and Orga had nursed him to health before allowing him to leave for home. Rufus' father had beaten him for destroying his links to the fisherman, and Orga had offered him a home to recover. Rufus had fallen in love, and Orga had fallen for him back.

As enraptured as Freed was by this abridged story, he could only really focus on Rufus's smile. It was the smile of a man besotted, and it made Freed think back to Laxus and the moment he knew he was in love.

----

"Wow, you are really bad at that," Laxus' grumbling voice shocked Freed, and he fumbled with the bow and let the arrow fall to the grass as he turned.

It was night, and Freed was standing in the knight's training yard, which was illuminated by torches despite the fact it was meant to be unused in the night. The archery targets were still set up, and an array of arrows were scattered across the grass near the closest target. One of them had actually hit the target, and quite close to the centre too, but anyone who saw the mess could guess that it had been a fluke rather than a sudden burst of skill.

"Do you really want to mock me when I'm armed?" Freed asked, raising the bow and pointing it at Laxus despite it not having an arrow.

"With your aim? I'm not scared," Laxus smiled, handsome face illuminated by the flickering torch light as he stepped closer. He was wearing his casual clothes and looked handsome in his sleep worn state. "But I'm afraid I'm not here for you, your highness. Y'see, I was told there was a neerdowell skulking around the training grounds; apparently a shady character who could pose a threat to the royal family. It can't be you, of course. Because, if it was you that might be trying to kill the king, you'd at least have to be able to shoot an arrow at a target that's about ten feet away. Looking around at this, at all these embarrassing mistakes, I don't believe you could do that."

"And I didn't believe you could say words as long as neerdowell. I suppose life is full of surprises," Freed smiled, walking towards Laxus with the bow still in hand.

"Guess it is," Laxus nodded, placing his hands on Freed's side. "A lot of people are surprised at how good a bowstring can be at strangling a jumped up little rich boy when he pisses a knight off."

"It's perhaps less surprising to find out that the aforementioned rich boy-"

"Jumped up little rich boy," Laxus corrected.

"The aforementioned jumped up little rich boy," Freed agreed with a smile. "Can have any knight hung, drawn and quartered without any difficulty whatsoever."

"Capital punishment is outlawed," Laxus murmured with a smile.

"There are other definitions behind those words," Freed purred, leaning in, his breath ghosting Laxus' lips. "Maybe I would have you painted nude, and have prints sold throughout the kingdom for a quarter of your worth. That would certainly bring out your shy side, I expect."

"That's only drawn and quartered. I guess the hung part was covered with me being nude?" Laxus grinned.

"Don't be smug, darling. You're much better red faced and stumbling over your words," Freed pressed a chaste kiss, before his teasing smile parted for a genuine one. "I'm sorry if I forced you out of your bed. I thought I was being subtle."

"I was playing cards with some of the other men," Laxus shrugged, and Freed didn't believe him. Your hair didn't get that messy playing cards. But, Laxus was being kind so Freed wouldn't call him out on his lie. Laxus took the bow from Freed's hand and gently ran a finger down the wood. "You're still at it, huh?"

"Until I become proficient, this is where I'll be."

As part of his duty to his kingdom, Freed needed to be battle ready. His family had told him he needed to excel at one of the fighting styles that his army were required to know, so that if war came, he could fight alongside them. He had chosen swordsmanship and had gotten a reputation for being able to hold his own against most of the knights who were stationed at the castle. Not enough for him, he wanted to learn the other main form of fighting: archery. But his skills with a sword were inversely proportional to his skills with a bow, as he was pathetically inept with the weapon.

For two weeks, he had been trying, and yet he had made no progress. He chalked that up to being distracted by other duties, which had been put on hold when he was learning to use a sword, but he had kept at it. But as he put more time into it, his skills remained low.

"Show me what you're doin', I'll tell you where you're going wrong," Laxus instructed, removing his hands from Freed's hips.

Freed nodded, pulled an arrow from the quiver and pulled it into the bow. As he had multiple times that night, he pulled the bowstring back, closed one of his eyes and did his best to focus on the centre of the target. The bowstring snapped with a loud twang as he released it, and the arrow flew through the air. It was on track from the target but landed in the dirt a limp three feet from the target. Freed could have snapped the bow in frustration.

"You're trying to run before you can walk," Laxus scolded, stepping forward. "You're focusing on the target, but you're not there yet. You don't know how to judge power yet. If you don't know how to do that, you can't aim. You're trying to do everything but don't know how to do anything yet."

It was refreshingly honest, and Freed liked that about Laxus. "How did you know that?"

"You kept wavering between raising the bow higher to get it to stay in the air longer and pulling the string back to amp up the power," Laxus answered, then walked towards the row of targets. He started to move them around, taking them off their stands and placing them face up on the ground in a row in front of Freed. "Shoot an arrow, don't aim for anything. If you shoot it straight, it's gonna hit one of these targets."

Laxus stepped back and crossed his arms, a clear sign that Freed was being instructed and there was no room for argument. Freed pulled another arrow from the quiver, slid the string back and let the arrow fly. As Laxus had expected, it landed on one of the targets that covered the grass. The fifth one in the row.

"Good," Laxus said, not moving. "Do it again, exactly like you just did, and hit the same target. We're gonna stay here until you've hit that target ten times."

"Why?" Freed asked but pulled an arrow out.

"Because once you've managed it ten times, you'll know exactly how far you pull the string back and how high to aim it. You know how to get the power for that exact shot, and that's a good baseline to start with. Once we figure that out, we figure out what we need to do to get you to hit the next target. We make those adjustments, you hit the next target ten times. Then we do it with another target. Then another. We keep going until you can judge how to cover each distance. Once we're comfortable with that, you're halfway to being good at archery."

It sounded so simple, and Laxus' simple pragmatism spurred Freed on.

Simple was the last thing it was, and after missing the target five times Freed wanted to set the bow on fire and storm into his quarters in defeat. He knew Laxus wouldn't allow that, not after the last time Laxus tried to teach him something. His parents had been away, and Laxus had told the maid that Freed wanted to clean his own quarters for the week. Laxus had demanded military standards when it came to how Freed made his bed and mopped his floor and Freed had eventually yelled at Laxus that this was not something he needed to know.

Laxus had, in turn, decided that Freed was sleeping in the barracks for the rest of the week and would work to the same standard as all the castle's knights. Erza, the knight commander, had needed some convincing to let it happen, but she had caved, and Freed had lived like a knight for a week. It had been hard for him, but good. He learned personal responsibility and his first touch of true independence. Now, he didn't need a maid for his chambers, which kept him grounded and allowed his cleaner some time off.

No, Laxus wouldn't let him storm off when things got hard, and Freed was glad of it.

"Okay, let's try this," Laxus said, stepping forward when he could see Freed's frustration growing. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Close your eyes and let me guide you."

Freed, not sure what was about to happen, closed his eyes. Laxus stood behind him, body pressed against Freed's as he placed his hands on Freed's. He guided Freed without words, showing him how high to aim the arrow and how far back to hold the bow.

"Think about how your body is right now. Remember it. Keep it sealed in your muscles," Laxus said, voice low and distracting. "Let it go, but keep your eyes closed.

Freed did as he was told. He took a moment to focus on his body, the strain in his muscles and the wind on his face. The bow was tilted up and his fingers were burning against the bowstring. He was getting good at meditation - another thing Laxus had taught him about - and he felt at one with his body for the moment. There was no target to shoot, just a post to hold. With that in mind, he let the arrow go and kept his eyes closed, focusing on the sound of the airborne arrow.

"Did it hit the target?" Freed asked, expecting Laxus to move. He didn't.

"I ain't gonna tell you that until I say something else first," Laxus whispered into Freed's ear. "You're allowed not to be good at this, you understand me? I get you're a perfectionist, and you hate it when things don't work out, but I need you to know things can go wrong and it doesn't mean the world's gonna end. It's okay to miss."

"Laxus, I'm a prince-"

"That's why I'm saying it," Laxus said firmly. "People act like you can't make mistakes, and maybe there are things you'll have to do that y' have to get right, but not this. Nothing with me has to be perfect, you understand? At least with me, you can stumble around in the dark and fuck up all you want. I wanna see that side of you as much as I wanna see the perfect prince."

Freed didn't know what to say, and there was a worry that he might be crying, so all he could think to do was whisper: "Can I open my eyes now, Laxus?"

"Of course," Laxus smiled, still not moving.

Freed opened his eyes and saw the arrow he had shot in the centre of the target. Laxus hadn't said all of that to placate him and make him feel better, he had said it just for the sake of it. Because he wanted Freed to know it. That was the moment he knew Laxus was the man he loved.

----

"You can't marry me," Freed agreed, because if Rufus felt for Orga like Freed felt for Laxus, then trapping him in marriage would be cruel.

"Who are they?" Rufus parroted Freed's own words back at him, and Freed smiled indulgently.

"He's one of my knights," He confessed, blushing a little. "You might have seen him. He's blonde, rather large and with a scar over his eye in the shape of a lightning bolt."

"Yes, I did. He's a handsome man, isn't he?" Rufus laughed, and Freed tried to ignore the slight shot of jealousy that ran through him. "And a knight in your own castle? You certainly don't make things easy for yourself, do you?"

"Says the man in love with a Viking," Freed laughed.

"No, I think out of the two of us, I've chosen the easier life," Rufus sounded remorseful, then looked contemplative for a moment. A stubborn look crossed his face, and Freed had to wonder what was going on in his mind. "Despite that, I believe that I might have a way for us both to be happy."

"Oh?" Freed asked but didn't believe it.

"If I don't marry you, I'll be removed from polite society with vicious speed," Rufus said, and Freed knew that it was true. "I only have my father left, and I don't care for him. While wealth keeps me comfortable, it doesn't do much else for me. I don't own anything, not until I inherit my family business. My father is unfortunately quite healthy, so that will take some time. All of this is to say, I lift out of society shockingly well. In fact, I'd wager that I could run for the north, stumble across a certain boat, and live a life with the captain without anybody caring about it. It's a sad reflection on my life up until now, but helpful given the situation."

"I suppose it is," Freed said slowly, not exactly sure how this helped him.

"If I'm leaving, I don't care about the legacy I leave behind me," Rufus continued, almost sounding mischievous. "A prince and a knight aren't a bad match, they would just need a little push to get the public on their side. Who doesn't love a good love story? And what is a love story without a villain? A villain who, perhaps, cheated on the charming prince despite their engagement?"

Freed looked around. The idea was a good one. If he painted Rufus as the cheat, then Freed could get out of this marriage without anyone questioning him. It would be easy to spin a story about the prince falling into the arms of a handsome guard, who repaired his heart and brought his smile back. The public would eat it up.

"You'd be okay with playing that role?"

"I'm perfectly fine with it. Are you okay with playing the role of a jilted lover?" Rufus asked, and Freed nodded. He could play any role to assure his and Laxus' relationship. "This will only work on the public, I expect. Your family-"

"I will deal with my family," Freed said firmly. "Perhaps if I had done so earlier none of this would be needed. You have my apologies for that."

"We both made mistakes, we wouldn't be here if we hadn't," Rufus shrugged. "You should expose me as a cheater here and now, so people can gossip about it, and nobody can deny it."

"You'll have to make a swift exit," Freed mused, looking around.

"I may have organised a horse to be waiting for me," Rufus said, averting his eyes. "Just in case. Don't worry about me, Freed. I can handle myself."

"I can see that. I do have one more question for you, before we do this," Freed smiled a little, and Rufus tilted his head. "The Vikings, do they have any form of marriage in their culture?"

"They do, though not quite like what we know it to be," Rufus looked content even thinking about it. "It's purely an expression of love, there's no exchange of property nor societal position. It's simply a way for two people who have found love to celebrate it publicly and further their bond."

"Well, if it's appropriate, when you and your Viking engage in this ceremony, I will expect an invitation, as will my knight," Freed said with princely authority. Rufus just laughed.

"I will make it so," Rufus promised. "Now, enough dawdling, I have a veritable God sailing around without my company and I'd like to amend that fact. Might I suggest throwing a drink in my face to kickstart the proceedings."

Freed smiled, picked up a glass filled with wine, and nodded. "It'd be my pleasure."

----

Four Hours Later

"Hey," Laxus said quietly, sneaking into Freed's room quietly. "Heard what happened. You okay?"

Freed was still wearing the suit he had worn for his engagement party and had been waiting impatiently for Laxus to arrive. Usually, it would be Freed going to Laxus as Freed could walk the halls without question, but he was being watched and gossiped about by everyone in the castle so couldn't leave his room without being talked about. Laxus, however, had managed to get the night patrol so could walk to Freed's rooms without anyone wondering what he was doing. Freed tried not to focus on the fact Laxus had gotten the night shift as a distraction from Freed's engagement.

Once he saw Laxus, Freed felt warm inside again. He stormed over to him and hugged him despite his armour and the hilt of his sword digging into his thigh. Laxus hugged him back, and Freed smiled into the awkward and metallic embrace.

"Freed, seriously, you okay?" Laxus insisted, but he sounded hesitant. "Everyone who saw what happened said you looked… heartbroken."

"I'm fine, Laxus," Freed assured him.

"He was cheating on you, right? Fucking asshole. Lucky I didn't see him or I'd-"

"Laxus, he didn't cheat on me because we were never together. We were victims of matchmaking, and we had met three times in total. If he was cheating on me, then I was also cheating on him," Freed pulled away, and cupped Laxus' cheeks with both hands fondly. "There was one man in this castle who has a claim to my heart, and it is you. Nobody else even comes close to you."

"I heard you threw a drink at him," Laxus argued. "You wouldn't-"

"We both have men in our lives we love, and a public argument would allow us to love these men freely," Freed said firmly. "He needed to be disowned in disgrace so he could run to his lover, and I needed to be left at the altar so I could fall in love with the man I was always meant to be all along."

"Me?"

"Yes, you beautiful idiot," Freed scolded lightly, before sighing and letting his face fall. "I shouldn't have let it get this far. At any point I could have talked to my parents and put my foot down and told them about us. I shouldn't have put any of us in this position, and I know that if we got found out your livelihood was put at risk, and I shouldn't have risked that either. I have been scared, and that is not acceptable. I will make amends for that, and I'm sorry it took me this long to come to that conclusion."

"You don't need to apologise," Laxus tried to say, but Freed cut him off with a glare. "Your parents aren't going to accept me."

"They will, because if they don't, I will abdicate and leave them without an heir," Freed said firmly, and Laxus looked at him with a frown. "I'm not joking, nor am I making a hollow threat. I know we spoke about that cabin in the mountains as a joke, but I could live like that happily so long as you're there. You are my priority, and I will make our relationship work no matter what is needed. Even if we have to sail to another continent to find our home, I will do that. In fact, I think I might already have a boat lined up to take us wherever we need to go," He shook his head a little. "That's beside the point. The point is, you are the man I love, and people will know. Tomorrow morning, I will do what I should have done the moment I fell for you. That is a promise."

"You're sure?" Laxus asked, but he was holding back a smile. "I don't want you giving up anything on a whim."

"You're not a whim, Laxus, and you will never be that to me," Freed promised. "I would give up anything for you, I know that now. My title, my crown, my home. It's incidental compared to you. I will prove that to you tomorrow."

"I know you will," Laxus whispered. "Fuck, I love you Freed."

"I love you too. More than you could imagine," Freed gasped the words, relief flooding him. "Now, speaking of things that are long overdue, I think it's finally time for you to grace my bed with your presence. I am somehow both exhausted and teeming with energy, and I have found your company the perfect remedy for that. There's something about the great Knight Dreyar cuddling me like a teddy bear that makes me feel safe and content," He grinned, then put on his regal voice. "So, get to it."

"Yes, your highness."

#Fraxus Week #Fraxus Week 2022 #Fraxus #Freed Justine #laxus dreyar #freed x laxus #Rufus Lore #orga nanagear #Rufus x Orga #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #One Shot #Writing #Writing Event #Historical AU #Royal AU

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peonysink · 2 years

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Part V

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pairing: Commander Cody x fem.reader; Cody and ofc

Summary: You and Eleny cope with your feelings for Cody while he's away. Cody makes some decisions as well.

Warning: 18 +, angst, panic attack, description of bad sex

How is it possible to miss something you’ve never had? To count the days until someone who’s never been in your life - comes back to you?

But this is what your life has come to - and it’s been like that for a while now. A jumble of conflicting emotions that should have cancelled each other out, but that instead tortured you more and more with each passing day.

You’ve missed Cody. You’ve missed the feeling you had when you were around him. You’ve missed the way his voice was soft and clear, and the way his head rested on yours.

And the most strange thing - you somehow miss everything that’s to come. You don’t anticipate, expect, or crave - you long and miss, the unbearably slow nature of time, dragging of that sweet promise of what that future might be is sadly missed every minute of every day.

And you let yourself feel it. Having said some of your feelings out loud for the first time made you realise just how out of touch with yourself you’ve been for quite a long time. And you decide that you don’t have to dwell too much on what that means - right now, you decide to make things a bit easier on yourself. At least for a while. You deserved that.

So you let yourself daydream, you let yourself replay his comforting words in your head till they almost lost all of their meaning, you let yourself close your eyes and remember the softness of his shoulder (even though his armour was anything but soft, but that’s not how you want to remember it) - and it feels good.

6 more rotations and he’ll be back.

6 more, and he might call you. Or stop by the shelter to see you. You might go out for a walk and you might grab a take-out caf and you might talk some more. You’ll ask him about his missions and how dangerous they are. You know they are, but in your fantasy, he tells you that they’re not that bad. That him being a commander means that he’s quite safe, always. You’ll ask him about his life, about Kamino and growing up. You’ll even ask him if he… if there is a woman in his life - and he’ll say that there isn’t and that he’s still waiting to meet the right one.

You allow yourself all this because it gets you through your day. And that’s all that matters. That’s all you can do right now.

—-

This was the third night Eleny couldn’t sleep properly. NIghts were getting colder, and her apartment too warm - at least that’s what she thought at first. Then she switched the heating off before she headed for the bed the next night, and found herself freezing, but equally awake. The temperature wasn’t the problem.

She couldn't stop thinking about Cody. What the hell happened the other night? She couldn’t stop replaying every single moment she ever spent with him - and there were quite a few. Replaying and looking, looking for something, some kind of a hint, a sign, an explanation - but she wasn’t sure of what. All she knew was that she was restless and that she missed him. And getting through a day, trying to suppress those thoughts every single moment of every single hour was exhausting.

Working as a personal assistant at the Senate had its quirks - for one, it paid pretty well, so she could afford to live in quite a nice area for the first time ever in her life. She worked mainly with senator Danu and they had a very nice working relationship - which wasn’t necessarily the experience other personal assistants had, she found out later.

In a funny way - Cody was indirectly responsible for her getting the job at the Senate. Eleny met Cody more than 2 years ago, one night at 79s - even though she actually first noticed Fox that night and was initially interested in him. But somehow as luck would have it, at the end of the evening she found herself in a corner booth, lip-locked with Cody for the rest of that night. The next night when she met him again, she jokingly confessed that she first noticed Fox, which Cody found hilarious, and dragged her to introduce her to Fox right away - who was pretty drunk at that point. They all had a good laugh about it, and once Cody asked her what drew her to his brother and not him in the first place since they were basically identical, she confessed that it was that Guard uniform that she found so beautiful and sexy every time she saw a guardsman on the street. How it made her feel proud somehow when she saw them, how absolutely glorious they looked. Fox grew a few inches momentarily and even in his drunken state trying very hard to appear serious, he told her that if she ever needed anything she should just find him, before he disappeared somewhere into the crowd.

Fast forward a few months and she found herself interviewing for the position of assistant at the Senate, and lo and behold, who’s on the committee - commander Fox! She never asked him if he had something to do with her getting the job, but she was pretty sure that he did. The way he looked at her when she entered, she was quite sure he recognized her immediately. All the questions that he asked her were easy and light, and they practically answered themselves. She had good qualifications, but so did many other candidates, and in those types of situations, it often came to luck and just personal preference of the committee members.

She never told Cody that, and she wondered if Fox ever mentioned something to him. What could he mention anyway - remember that hot girl you scored at 79s once and who complimented my armour and my battalion - well, I helped her get a job at the Senate. It’s probably not something Fox would advertise too much.

But the more she thought the more she realised how big part of her life Cody has been for the past year or two - without her really noticing. Or did it all seem that way now, when she was looking back on that time looking through these new glasses?

She didn’t know, but it was driving her mad, the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

So she did what she never did before - she logged into the Republic itinerary. She always had access to it on the central server at the Senate, but she had never done it before. It wasn’t strictly illegal, but it had nothing to do with her job, and if someone found out she’d have to explain herself. Cody usually sent her a message a few rotations before he knew he’d be on Coruscant to let her know he was coming and to arrange a meeting with her - and now she just had to know where he was and when he was scheduled to come back.

It didn’t take long - General Obi Wan Kenoby’s 212th battalion was stationed on Neimoidia and was due back in two rotations - bar any complications of course.

And that information alone broke her heart into a million pieces - if he was scheduled to come back in two rotations, normally he would have contacted her by now already.

—

As the universe often liked to play with your feelings and align things that shouldn't be aligned, Leonid told you he had a night off and that he wanted to spend it with you - on the very day when you knew Cody was supposed to come back.

Yes, one thing had nothing to do with another. Yes, of course, you’d spend the night with Leonid - it’s been so long, and this was what you’ve been longing for - right? This was what you wanted - all those nights, days, weeks, when you felt so desperately lonely, this is what you craved - a night with him. A dinner, a conversation, something, anything that didn’t have to do with his career and politics. Just the two of you, again.

Then why didn’t this excite you more? The idea of doing just that. Why did your mind immediately think of the fact that Cody was scheduled to return that day and why did that excite you more than the thought of spending an evening with your husband?

“You look exceptionally beautiful tonight.”

“What?”

It came out wrong. It came out like your husband just said the most unexpected thing he could have said and it shocked you - which in a way it did. You simply couldn’t remember when was the last time he paid you a compliment. But this was your night, you should enjoy this - was this him trying? Did he also notice how everything between you was so different lately and how you barely spoke and saw each other anymore? Did he mind that too?

“Seriously, I’ve noticed lately… well, you’re glowing!”

What?

You were speechless and you could feel your cheeks starting to burn.

“I’ve noticed in the past few days, that you were more positive, happy… glowing. There’s just something that’s changed. And I like it.” - he smiled.

You could feel your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach - heavy with shame. If there was anything different about you, you knew damn well what it was. You had a new friend. For a moment your guilt made you consider whether you should mention it to Leonid. There’s nothing wrong with having a friend, is there now? Especially if it’s the one that makes you feel good. Especially if it’s the one that makes you glow.

But before you could say anything Leonid’s hand found the back of your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss, somewhat clumsily. And since that was the last thing you expected, you winced under his touch and once you realised what he was trying to do you froze. Completely. His lips were already on yours and your eyes were still wide open, your mouth stiff and your hands suspended somewhere in the air. You looked almost comical. But Leonid seemed to be into it, his lips nipping on yours, trying to wake them up, to make them return the kiss, and it took you a moment, it took everything you had, but you closed your eyes, your hands landed on his shoulders and your lips eased into his.

Were kisses with him always like this?

The kiss wasn’t bad. Leonid knew what he was doing, his lips were gentle, his hands on your waist slowly drawing circles, pulling you closer to him - in essence, everything was as it was supposed to be. But still the moment he moved his lips away from yours you felt yourself exhale. Like you were glad it was over. Like you were relieved. And you hoped, you really, really hoped he didn’t notice that.

“I missed you.” - he whispered as he gazed into your eyes, and you felt all the blood drain from your face.

He misses me and I’m going out, finding new friends and putting my head on their shoulder . What kind of a person am I? What kind of a wife?

You didn’t say anything, because you didn’t know what to say. The normal thing would be to say you missed him too - but somehow those words were not leaving your lips.

“I know I’ve been away so much because of the campaign, but I promise as soon as this is over, I’ll have more time for you and everything will go back to normal.”

“T-to normal?” - you managed to say, not really sure what he meant by that. What was normal?

You and Leonid met at university and you were inseparable for years, sharing a flat, sharing the same classes, sharing a life. But as soon as he got a job and started moving up the career ladder, everything changed - and it has been like that ever since. And you waited and tolerated it - you thought that when there is a good foundation of something, then everything is manageable. Everything is rebuildable. But after a while - nothing changed. “As soon as” were the words you’ve heard quite a few times before. And that time just never came. “As soon as” was your past, your present and your future.

“Yeah, to normal… like things were before, remember..” - he said as he came closer to you again, and planted his lips on your neck. And you winced again, but his hands on you gently pulled you closer in his hug, feeling you tense and nervous. You placed your hands on his upper arms, as he kept kissing your neck, while his one hand travelled down your body and onto your ass, giving it a light squeeze.

It felt like the ground beneath you was moving, and you felt dizzy. It just…. Didn’t feel good. It felt familiar, but not in a melancholic kind of way. More like a town you knew very well but didn’t have any need to ever revisit again. And what did that say about you? You hadn’t had sex with your husband in such a long time, and when he initiated it - you feel nothing? How do you tell him that? How will that make him feel?

He placed his lips on yours again, and this time you shut your eyes firm and moved your lips, hoping a passionate kiss would wake you up, awake that spark, bring the passion, as his hand was squeezing and then caressing your ass again. But things didn't exactly go that way. The knot in your stomach became too tense as it moved up to your chest and pressed on your lungs and you thought you might faint. You pushed him lightly away feeling so out of breath, and trying to inhale.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” - Leonid asked, his eyes worried. “You’re completely pale”.

“I don’t know, I just don't feel so well all of a sudden…” - you said, still fighting for a breath.

“Come, sit here.” - He took you to the couch and made you sit, and gently pulled you towards your knees, your head suspended between your legs. “Breathe slowly, it’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.” - he kept repeating as he drew circles on your back.

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes. Everything was far from being fine - your husband’s touch now officially gave you panic attacks, and just the thought of a brave, handsome commander coming home soon made you glow.

Things were now officially not fine anymore.

—-

He wasn’t her favourite ex. Far from it. Does one ever really have a favourite ex? That idea there’s always one that got away - is that even real?

Kas wasn’t the one, and he certainly never got away. In fact, he just lingered. Always. Eleny broke up with him 2 years ago, and like clockwork, once a month he’d send her a message, asking how she was doing and whether she’d fancy going out for a drink with him. And every time she’d say, “thanks for the message, but no thanks” - and she never had the heart to be crueller, as he was harmless and sweet enough - she hoped that after so many rejections, he’d get the message eventually.

But no. He kept asking and asking, and after a while, she wished she had told him that she wasn't interested in seeing him ever again already after the first message, and that he should stop contacting her. But after all this time, telling him to stop now, would almost make no sense. She had realised that for a while now the joke was on her.

But try enough times and eventually, luck will shine on you - at the very same moment Eleny’s heart broke at the notice that Cody would be back on Coruscant in a matter of two rotations without contacting her, her comm device blinked, with that same familiar message:

- Hi Eleny, how are you? Fancy a drink sometime soon? -

She didn’t know what was worse - the sound of that message arriving and awakening her hope that it was from Cody and then moments later, her heart breaking once again, those small pieces that didn’t shatter at the previous notion, properly vaporised at this one - or the fact that she took that damn comm device in her hands and immediately and urgently, without even thinking, typed:

- Sure, would you like to come over tonight? -

And he did, of course! He was there, at her place, 10 minutes early. And it took all of 5 minutes for her to remember all the things that bothered her about him and all the things that made her break up with him in the first place only after two months of dating. How he talked too much and how he interrupted her the whole time. How for someone seemingly so interested in her, he didn't appear curious to hear what she had to say. How he drank a lot - and really fast. That one bottle of wine was already gone before she even managed to finish her first glass. And how eager and horny he was.

The moment his hands were on her waist and he pulled her in for a kiss, she debated with herself whether she should stop it before it went any further. The kiss wasn’t bad. He was hungry and he was sucking on her lips perhaps a little too hard, his hands were pulling her towards him, towards his already hardening cock perhaps a little too eagerly and desperately, but none of that was necessarily bad, what was bad about him and everything that was happening there was the fact that he wasn’t Cody.

And the moment she realised that, was the moment she made a decision not to stop it. She will go through with this. She will sleep with him tonight, and then again and again, a couple of times, and she will delete all the traces of the man who marked her body before him. She will start afresh. Cody will not be the last man she had slept with anymore, but he will just be one of the men she slept with - and as such less special. She will exchange Cody with Kas, and Kas could never intrigue her the same way Cody did, she could never develop this kind of thoughts and feelings for him - so everything will be simple and normal again.

She will enjoy this, she will, she had to, so she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her, fake-moaning in his mouth.

That’s all it took to spurn him even more on. Before she could think and plot further, he walked her backwards towards the sofa and as soon as her legs hit the edge of it he sat her down, pulling away only for a second to unbuckle his pants and take his shirt off. Eleny unbuttoned the three top buttons on her skirt and pulled it down, along with her stocking, staying only in her panties. That proved to have had an even more fatal effect on him, as he pretty much jumped on her, hard cock out, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs, his mouth on her neck. Eleny closed her eyes and threw her arms around him trying to ground herself in that moment - it’s just lips on a neck , she always liked that; how can that be bad , her thoughts were spinning, even when his fingers found her clit, and started rubbing it, how can that be bad , even when he pulled them to his mouth and sucked his fingers thoroughly before he showed them into her moist pussy, yes, it’s slightly painful, but what’s not to like , and even when he wetted the tip of his cock before he thrust it inside her, even that took some self-convincing - it’s good, all of this is good, this is what you like, this is what always makes you feel better.

It was over fast, and not a moment too soon. Eleny faked an orgasm, just in case he'd get an idea to keep going and prolong the whole process. He looked so proud when he kissed her once again, as he put his head at the crock of her neck, panting, his sweaty temples resting on her shoulder.

She told him she had to get up very early in the morning so he couldn’t stay over. He gave her a peck on the lips and told her he’d call her. He thanked her for a wonderful evening. The man had manners, at least, she could give him that.

But as soon as she closed the door behind him, she felt worse than she did earlier that day. Emptier. This wouldn’t work the way she hoped it would, she couldn't just replace Cody, and it will take more, something more. Only one thing could cure her of this insufferable state of mind, and it was one thing she was dreading the most. But that is often how it goes.

She’ll have to talk to Cody, and nothing else would do.

She couldn’t keep doing this to herself. That much was clear.

—

Touching down on Coruscant was always a special feeling. It never felt like a home, even though after all this time it did become the closest Cody had to a home. But it felt significant. It was always a sign, a mark of another finished mission. It wasn’t always pleasant - some missions were tougher than others, some missions would take far too many of his brothers - others would be successful, missions where they would make a difference in a seemingly never-ending conflict - and the one thing that always marked those occasions was - Coruscant. It was a bittersweet feeling, always, but often good. Being on Coruscant meant that he’d get to relax for a bit, leave the commander behind and just be Cody for a while, and almost live a normal life. He’d go out, visit 79s, drink with his brothers, and meet women. Lately, it’s only been Eleny. Their arrangement suited him nicely - meeting girls for one night stands at 79s got a bit tiring after a while.

He and Eleny had an understanding, which is why it worked so well for so long. They were both passionate people who loved sex but had no need for further attachment or any kind of commitment. But he knew he made a mistake last time he was with her, the way he hugged her and cuddled with her. Coming to visit Eleny that night after the Jedi event when his arm was practically glued to yours the entire evening and he felt the warmth of your skin, that touch that ruined him and made him crave more so much more, was a mistake. He used Eleny for the first time ever, he used her for something that wasn’t about her at all, and he felt bad about it. And he worried whether Eleny would even want to see him again and continue with their arrangement now. If he couldn’t hold his end of the bargain, why should she?

Should he stay away from her for a while, so that he’d seem less eager? So that she’d definitely see that nothing had changed from his side, that he is still as non-committal and aloof as he’s always had been. And that he didn’t need cuddles and touches, but only sex and passion - same as her.

And then - there were all those thoughts about you, constant thoughts, pleasant initially but increasingly tortuous. The way you opened up, and the way you put your head on his shoulder. The way every time you touched him felt like you lit his skin on fire. You were lonely, you told him that, and he hated the fact that whenever he replayed that moment in his head, there was a small part of him that was smug and glad to hear that. Because it meant… he couldn’t even finish that thought in his head without hating himself, but it was stronger than him, and it kept coming back, tormenting him.

He had to see you. He was your friend, he told you that, which made things simpler between you as he definied his interest in you. Yes, a part of him wanted to see you and just keep you company. If his company in any way would make you less lonely and sad, then he’d be happy to be there for you. If putting your head on his shoulder would comfort you, he’d be more than happy to offer a shoulder any time.

But those thoughts, those other thoughts were there as well, as much as he didn’t want to surrender to them, as much as they were tormenting and ruining him, they were present, every time he’d remember how you didn’t protest when he said how he thought you came to 79s because you wanted to see him, they were there, showing their ugly face and squeezing his throat, squeezing his soul till he’s reduced to nothing more but a body full of guilt and shame.

That night he arrived at his barracks and took a long shower, feeling his sore muscles relax under the hot water. It’d be a quiet night, and Cody was looking forward to retreating to his small single room and getting an early night in. The next day he had a meeting with his general in the morning, but the rest of his afternoon was free. He had few options of how he could spend the rest of his day, but he already knew he’d do anything in his power to spend it with you. That was the only real option, and there was no use fighting it. He took his comm device out and found the code you gave to him that night at 79s. He stared at it for a while and then he wrote:

- Would you like to show a friendly commander where he can get a decent cup of caf on Coruscant? -

But as he tucked himself in, in his warm bed, the scratchy feel of that military blanket against his skin, he felt certain urges waking up and he realised that he wouldn't be able to stay away from visiting Eleny. He’d just have to explain it better to her, not with words but with deeds - come in just for sex and leave right away after - as always. No hugging, no conversations. That last time was a glitch. A slip. An exception to the rule. She’ll understand that nothing has changed and everything will be back to normal again. Everything will be fine and she will be relieved and happy that he was back - that the old Cody was back. So he took his comm device again and found her code:

- Back on Coruscant. Sorry I couldn't text you earlier. Any chance I could stop by tomorrow evening? -

#commander cody x reader #commander cody #cody x reader #cody x you #feelings #guilt #panic attack #faking

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