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monserelates · 2 months ago

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Rain Check ; James Potter

⇨ f!reader x james potter

⇨summary: It was supposed to be harmless fun. But not all magic bends to intention—and some mistakes don’t wash away with the rain. So, what happens when y/n gets caught up in a prank meant for Snape?

⇨ word count: 2.5k

⇨ warnings: Use of y/n, stubborn reader, protective james, apologetic james, platonic!snape x reader, snape has a small crush on reader, hypothermia-like symptoms, vomiting (mild), guilt, soft Snape, happy ending, mentions of drowning, cursing, girlhood and brotherhood at the end lmk if more!

Nothing new. Just something mild, Sirius had insisted.

A storm charm. Just a laugh at Snape’s expense. But charms stack weird. Magic’s sensitive. And the corridor was old stone.

"The Charm's ready," Sirius announced. "It activates when Snape passes the third sconce—illusion magic first, so he panics, then the full weather hex."

“Rain and sleet. Disorientation fog. Maybe a bit of slippery stone for flair.” James twirled his wand. “Just enough to make him miserable.”

“You said no fog,” Remus muttered.

“I added it last minute,” Peter whispered. “It sounded funny.”

They all laughed.

Except Remus. “Just… make sure no one else gets caught in it.

Little did he know..

The castle was unusually quiet before lunch. You liked it that way. No noise. No chaos. Just the steady rhythm of your footsteps echoing down the Arithmancy wing.

You were running late—not that Slughorn would tell you off. Head pounding from lack of sleep, shoulders stiff from a restless night.

You rounded the corner.

So did someone else.

Snape.

He flinched when he saw you. "Y/N."

“Hi,” you said gently, offering a small smile. “You alright?”

He blinked at you, surprised. “I’m… fine?”

You nodded. “Cool. Hey, did you—”

The third sconce sparked.

The air snapped like a whip.

Magic slammed into the corridor with force.

Suddenly—

BOOM.

The floor groaned. The ceiling cracked open.

And the sky caved in.

You gasped.

Rain poured from the ceiling like a waterfall. Wind whipped the stone corridor into a storm tunnel. You slipped on the soaked floor. The vials shattered beside you.

Icy water pelted down like a monsoon. Wind howled, rain slicing into your skin, instantly soaking your robes through.

Snape stumbled, slipping hard against the stone. You barely caught yourself against the wall.

“Wh-What the hell?” you gasped.

He spat out water. “This is their doing. Has to be.”

Fog rolled in. Cold, cloying, blinding.

You couldn’t see five feet in front of you. The corridor warped and shifted—Muggle illusion spells. Dizzying. Disorienting.

Snape grunted, voice muffled. “Get under the stairwell! It’s slightly shielded—”

You crawled to him, soaked to the bone, fingers numb. The cold was seeping in now—not just wet. Dangerous. Bone-deep.

And then—your stomach twisted.

Not like nerves.

Like wrong.

“Oh—shit—” you gagged, doubling over.

Snape went pale. “Y/N?”

You threw up violently. Again. Again. Your body shivered uncontrollably.

The rain wasn’t just water. There was something in it.

The fog. The illusions. The cold.

Snape’s wand sparked, but short-circuited. “This spell is way too strong. Idiots. They didn’t calibrate it properly—” He was rambling now. Panic edging into his voice.

They should have checked the map.

They should have listened to Remus.

He shouldn't have-

"Bloody hell," Sirius whispered. "That’s not Snape."

James’s heart stopped.

You were right in the middle of it— Soaked. Slipping. Head down. Coughing hard.

And Snape was already dragging you toward cover.

“Oh my god—” James dropped his wand.

He was running before he knew it.

--------

You’d felt worse. Probably. Maybe.

Actually—no, this was bad.

The cold wasn’t just outside—it was inside. Your bones. Your magic. Your lungs. You didn’t want to be weak, though. You hated that.

You were not about to pass out in front of Potter.

James reaches you in seconds. “You’re freezing.” He shrugs off his robe, wrapping it around your shoulders. “What were you doing here?”

Your lips tremble. “Going to class.”

Sirius, Remus, and Peter appear behind him, breathless.

Sirius goes pale. “Y/N… you weren’t supposed to—shit. We thought Snape—”

“You thought you’d trap him like an animal and humiliate him,” you say flatly.

They all freeze.

Your voice is soft, deadly. “And you trapped me instead.”

James crouched in front of you, eyes searching. “You’re freezing. You’re shaking.”

“Obviously, it’s raining, you idiot,” you snapped.

He flinched, then reached for you. “I can carry you—”

“No.” You pushed his hands off, breath coming short. “Don’t you dare pity me, Potter.”

“It’s not pity.”

“Well it feels like it.”

James swallowed hard. “Y/N—please. You’re not okay.”

You tried to stand.

Your knees buckled. The world tilted.

And then—

Everything went black.

-----

You woke in the Hospital Wing with a sore throat, an IV spell in your wrist, and the faint smell of Pepper-Up.

“She collapsed—just like that—she tried to walk—”

“You think I don’t know that?!”

“James—stop pacing, you’re scaring Pomfrey—”

“Then maybe someone should’ve told me pranks have consequences!”

Pause.

“She didn’t even want help,” he muttered. “She didn’t want to be seen as weak.”

You blinked slowly.

Warmth. Clean sheets. A glowing charm by your temple. Smell of mint and magic.

The Hospital Wing.

James sat at your bedside, hunched forward, head in his hands.

You saw the tear tracks before you even said his name.

“...James?”

His head jerked up.

“Y/N?” he whispered. “You’re—you’re awake?”

You nodded weakly. “Unfortunately.”

He exhaled sharply. “You bloody idiot.”

You frowned.

“You scared me to death.” His voice cracked. “You—you didn’t even want help. Why? Why are you always trying to act like nothing hurts you?”

“Because if I act fine,” you muttered, “people don’t pity me. They don’t try to fix me. They just… let me be.”

He leaned closer. “But I don’t want to let you be.”

You blinked.

“I want to be there when you’re cold and stubborn and terrified. I want to carry you out of stupid prank floods, even when you hate me for it.” He laughed—wet, broken. “And I want you to know you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

You were quiet for a moment.

“I wasn’t trying to prove something,” you whispered.

James looked at you softly. “No. But you’re always trying to hold yourself together alone.”

Silence.

Then, you mumbled, “You’re really bad at pranks.”

He let out a choked laugh. “I’ll write that on my tombstone.”

You looked away, cheeks warming. “You stayed the whole time?”

“Of course I did.”

“Even after I called you an idiot?”

He leaned forward, voice lower. “Especially after that.”

A pause.

Then you said, almost too soft to hear: “I’m sorry I pushed you.”

He smiled. “I’d let you push me a hundred more times if it meant I get to see you wake up again.”

You groaned, trying not to smile. “You’re unbearable.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway.”

You didn’t deny it.

Then said, voice hoarse: “Next time you like a girl, maybe don’t nearly kill her.”

He laughed—wet, broken. “Deal.”

You didn’t say anything else. But you shifted over in the bed.

He sat beside you, cautiously.

And when you let your head rest on his shoulder, he let out a breath like he’d been holding it for weeks.

Later that night, in the Hogwarts Staff Room:

Professor McGonagall sat stiffly in her armchair, tea trembling ever so slightly in her hands.

“So,” she said, in that crisp Scottish tone that always meant she was this close to hexing someone, “Mr. Potter nearly drowns Miss Y/L/N in a hallway monsoon because he was attempting to soak Severus. Did I hear that correctly?”

Professor Flitwick gave a small, uncomfortable shrug. “It does appear that was the… intended trajectory.”

McGonagall raised a brow. “And she collapsed in front of him. Refused help. Then passed out dramatically.”

Sprout, without looking up from her biscuit, muttered, “Because she’s too stubborn for her own good.”

Slughorn, reclining in a squashy chair with brandy, chuckled. “Typical Gryffindor. Honestly—if those two don’t get married one day, I’ll eat my cauldron.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

“I told you,” Binns said dully from the corner (nobody knew why his ghost was even in the room). “Three weeks ago, when I saw them bickering outside my classroom. That’s sexual tension if I’ve ever seen it.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to say ‘sexual tension’ as a ghost,” Flitwick squeaked.

McGonagall rubbed her temples. “Merlin, they are students.”

“Minerva,” Slughorn said gently, “we’ve been watching these two dance around each other for three years. You nearly choked on your pumpkin juice last spring when she called him a ‘golden retriever with a wand and an ego.’”

McGonagall pursed her lips. “…It was a very apt description.”

Sprout pulled a parchment scroll from her robes. “I’m adding five galleons to the pool that they kiss before the next Hogsmeade weekend.”

“I’ll match you,” Slughorn said. “But only if he confesses first. You know how noble James is—boy wears his feelings like a neon sign.”

“Did anyone notice how gutted he looked after she collapsed?” Flitwick whispered, clutching his heart. “He didn’t even posture. He just… fell apart. It was rather poetic.”

“It was,” Binns agreed, hovering above the tea table like a bored cloud. “Felt like Act II of a tragic romance.”

McGonagall finally set her teacup down. “Very well. I’ll add a galleon on Y/N being the first to say ‘I love you.’”

Everyone turned to stare at her.

She blinked. “What? I may be head of Gryffindor, but I’m not blind. That girl has more bite than a Hungarian Horntail, but she’s soft where it counts.”

Sprout nodded. “And the way she looked at him when she thought he couldn’t see? Mm. That’s a girl in love.”

Slughorn raised his glass. “To the girl who refused to admit she was freezing to death, and the boy who never left her side.”

Clink.

And somewhere down the corridor, Peeves cackled as he wrote “POTTER LOVES Y/L/N” across the dungeon ceiling in glowing pink letters.

----

The sunlight filtered softly through the frosted windows of the Hospital Wing. It was that gentle morning light—peachy gold and a little too bright—that made everything feel quieter than it was.

Your eyelids fluttered open.

The world came into focus slowly: clean sheets tucked tight around you, a faint herbal scent from the potions cabinet, and your throat, still raw, but no longer burning. You blinked, shifting slightly.

That’s when you saw him.

James Potter, in the chair beside your bed, slumped forward with his arms folded on the edge of the mattress. His face was smushed into the crook of his elbow, hair falling into his lashes, glasses crooked and barely clinging to his nose.

You stared at him for a long moment. His hand—still loosely clasped around yours—tightened a little when you moved.

You swallowed, voice a hoarse whisper.

“James?”

His head jerked up so fast his glasses slid off completely.

“Y/N,” he said, breathless. His eyes scanned your face like he couldn’t believe it. “You’re awake.”

“You drooled on my blanket.”

He blinked. Then laughed softly, relief spilling out of him all at once. He ran a hand through his tangled hair, his voice thick. “You scared the absolute hell out of me.”

“I told you I was fine,” you said, stubborn as ever—but your voice cracked halfway through and you winced.

“Yeah, well,” he murmured, leaning forward again, “you’re also the worst liar I know.”

Your heart did something traitorous in your chest.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I always worry.”

Silence.

“I didn’t want to seem weak.”

His brows drew together, and he looked at you so seriously it made your stomach flip.

“Y/N,” he said, “you got hit by a storm, had a fever so bad you collapsed, and still tried to convince us you were okay. That’s not weak. That’s idiotic.”

“Thanks, Potter.”

He smiled. “Anytime.”

Another pause. And then, so gently it barely carried:

“Don’t do that again, okay? Don’t shut me out.”

You stared at him, your fingers twitching in his.

“…Okay.”

He smiled—slow and soft—and you were dangerously close to melting when a loud ahem cut through the stillness.

Professor McGonagall stood at the door, arms folded, a very suspicious twitch to her lips.

“Miss Y/L/N, I trust you’re feeling better.”

You blinked. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Because I’ve just subtracted twenty points from Gryffindor for grossly irresponsible magical conduct. And”—she turned to James—“ten more for Mr. Potter’s… romantic dramatics in the hallway last night. Honestly, fainting girls and vigil bed duty. You’re not starring in a Celestina Warbeck novel.”

James flushed bright red. You sank lower under the covers.

McGonagall turned to leave—then paused. Over her shoulder, she added dryly:

“Oh, and for the record—Professor Flitwick wins the betting pool. He said you’d be holding hands by sunrise.”

And with that, she swept from the room.

James slowly turned back to you.

“…We’re never living this down, are we?”

You squeezed his hand. “Not a chance.”

He grinned, and for the first time in days, so did you.

Later That Night – Gryffindor Common Room

The fire was burning low, casting warm flickers across the old velvet couches and scattered socks by the hearth. It was late, and most students had gone to bed—but not the inner circle.

James was freshly showered, curls still damp, socks mismatched, a biscuit half-chewed as he leaned dramatically against the back of the couch. Sirius lounged beside him, stretching like a cat.

Remus was reading in the corner, half-listening. Peter sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to build a tower of cards that kept toppling over.

You were curled into a corner cushion with a blanket around your shoulders, legs tucked beneath you, sipping ginger tea that Lily swore would help your throat.

“Alright,” Sirius finally said, pointing a half-eaten chocolate bar at James. “Spill.”

James blinked innocently. “Spill what?”

Sirius gawked. “Don’t play dumb. You slept by her bedside. You held her hand. You fainted with relief when she woke up—”

“I did not faint—”

“You did the emotional equivalent of fainting, James.”

Remus didn’t even look up. “He whimpered like a kicked puppy.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “I wasn’t dying, you know.”

James turned to you immediately. “You collapsed in front of me. Do you have any idea how terrifying that was?”

Your heart flipped. Again.

Sirius sighed dreamily. “You two are exhausting.”

“I vote we hex them both into a closet,” Peter offered cheerfully.

James smirked. “You’d miss me.”

“No, we wouldn’t,” Remus muttered.

There was a beat of laughter—then the portrait hole creaked open, and in came Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas, holding snacks they’d nicked from the kitchens.

“You’re up late,” Lily observed, eyeing the scene.

“I was being interrogated,” James said solemnly.

“Correction: worshipped for your tragic love arc,” Sirius said.

Dorcas flopped onto the rug. “Please. It’s only tragic if she dies. This is more ‘slow-burn Gryffindor pining with extra rain.’”

You hid your face in your cup.

Marlene grinned, leaning back. “Honestly, the real plot twist was Snape.”

James made a face. “Don’t remind me.”

Dorcas turned to you. “She called him an idiot and held his hand.”

Marlene arched an eyebrow. “Enemies to lovers arc progressing nicely.”

Lily rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away.

“Also,” Dorcas added with mock solemnity, “Snape said—and I quote—‘For once, she doesn’t disgust me.’ So that’s practically a love letter.”

You choked on your tea.

James blinked. “He said what?”

Lily laughed. “Let’s just hope James doesn’t try to prank anyone else to get her attention.”

From the hallway, James shouted: “I heard that!”

“Good,” Lily called back.

You curled further into the blanket, cheeks warm and aching from smiling.

And despite the coughing fits, the prank gone wrong, and the dramatic unraveling of Gryffindor's most chaotic couple-to-be, everything felt… right.

Warm. Familiar.

Like a story finally turning the page.

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suhlogic · 10 months ago

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paradise [kim mingyu x fem!oc]

summary: going to la union for a temporary escape from your busy city life was supposed to just be all about you, not until you meet a hot stranger at a bar and things escalate quite interestingly for the week.

warnings: slight age gap, dom!mingyu, sub!reader, unprotected sex, choking kink, creampie, size kink, praise kink, dry humping in a semi-public place, biting kink (slight), cum-eating

[🔞]

your city life proved to be exhausting, still navigating everything at 21 despite being independent and already moved out of your parents' house but the corporate life was a bitch to deal with on top of your mother nagging you to fulfill your filial duties as the eldest child to provide when they are still fully capable of supporting themselves and your younger sibling. so here you were, driving alone in your car on the way to la union to unplug for a week. the car ride was boring and tiring since your friends were all busy and you didn't want to ride a bus alone. finally, you arrived at your hotel early morning and got everything settled before you slept to make up for the exhaustion.

after a good few hours of decent sleep, you decide to get ready for the beach and put on a light red bikini that was just held together by strings that was properly showing off your huge tits. you also put on a skirt and a thin knitted coverup while your hair was up in a cute claw clip and grabbed your small tote bag on your way out to have some fun while the sun sets. as you reach the seaside, you decided to lay your towel on the sand and put your bag on it as you enjoyed swimming in the water basking in the sun.

[11:00pm]

after washing up back at your hotel room to grab dinner at the bar, you put on a pink dress with a thigh-high slit that was backless with just a pair of lace panties underneath. as you make your way into a chair by the bar counter and order your food, you mind your own business. after all, the fun doesn't start until the alcohol gives you enough courage to get fucked by a handsome stranger.

sipping on your cocktail was already affecting you and noticed that a tall handsome guy, with sharp gentle features and a short cropped haircut was eyeing you. his sun-kissed skin looking perfect under the strobing lights, athletically built body showing off through the shirt he's left the few buttons open with biceps practically begging to rip through its sleeves. but you weren't going to make it easy for him, catching his stares and waving back at the mystery guy. luring him to come over to your spot, and it fucking worked like magic.

his aura was intoxicating. the moment he leaned in to whisper something in your ear, he immediately had you hooked. "so what's a pretty girl like you doing in this place?" he smirked. you felt taken aback by his deep voice, his breath being minty with a hint of the gin and tonic he was drinking earlier. "just looking to have fun,although i've heard the real fun starts in the bedroom" you bite back with a smile from your pink glossy lips.

he laughed at the smooth rebuttal and reached his hand out to introduce himself, "feisty, i see...it's so rude that i didn't introduce myself. i'm mingyu by the way," he said. "and i'm _____," you shake his hand. "you know, i could show you a fun time what do you say?" his huge hand grabs the small of your back, the tension and close proximity making you yearn for his touch. the flashing lights and the music thumping on full blast against the speakers felt so right under the hot twinkling stars on a summer night,

"don't worry baby, they're too busy to care about what we're doing" he whispers as he holds you tighter and grinds his clothed member against your ass harder, "fuck, let's get out of here...my room." you whine as you begin to face him and grab his hand, leaving after paying your tabs.

once it was all settled, you and mingyu began to walk back to your hotel with hands intertwined together no one but the stars and the waves crashing against the shore witnessing romance brewing between the two of you as the music began to fade into the distance. the walk back to your place consisted of laughter and getting to know each other more, you began to learn that he was also getting away from the chaos of the city—family stuff, in his own words. not long after, the two of you made your way inside the elevator and pressed the floor where your room was.

you grab him by this nape and pull him in for a kiss, tasting your sweetness on his tongue and glistening pink lips which turns heated the moment your hands travel down his toned abs and into his boxers, feeling up his manhood—lengthy, thick and hard. you pull his pants down along with his underwear as his dick springs free slapping against his stomach past his belly button.

"will it fit?" you give him your best doe eyes as you begin to jerk him off, spreading his precum around the slit of his bulbous mushroom tip. "don't tease me, i need to be inside you now." he moans, the lust in his eyes darkening as he takes his dick in his hand and rubs it up and down your wet folds before inserting it slowly. his tip feeling hot and heavy against your wetness, moaning at how his dick feels inside you.

"didn't expect to pick up a hot stranger like you tonight..." you smirk, shifting to sit up on the bed while he grabs a towel to clean the both of you up and runs a bath. "i've had my eyes on you since you walked into the bar , i'm glad the night ended with you under me," he teasingly winks as he motions for you to come sit in between his legs and starts to wipe you down.

but mingyu couldn't help leaving slow and soft kisses down your cheeks and down your jawline as he cleans you up, "babe... don't start now, i can barely walk," you laugh, trying to suppress your moans. "i can carry you anywhere, don't worry," he whispers as you lean your neck to face him and pull him in for another kiss. after cleaning the two of you up, mingyu carries you in bridal style into the bathroom and helps you get into the bathtub and follows suit behind you and engulfs you in his warmth.

his biceps hugging you flush against his chest as you grab on his forearms biting at it softly and kissing it. you don't know if he''ll remain a stranger for the night or someone you'd be spending the rest of your life with but surely you hope it's the latter. he smirks at your antics and kisses your cheek, "happy 2nd anniversary, my love."

#svt fic #svt x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu imagine #kpop fic #mingyu x reader

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sserpente · 1 year ago

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Magic Hands

Synopsis: Astarion teaches you how to use a dagger in battle. The sweaty training calls for a bath in the nearby river afterward and you can’t help but admire the vampire rogue in the pale moonlight, surrounded by the glistening water surface. He seems… tense. Perhaps you can repay him by giving him a gentle massage?

A/N: Why did this take me so long to write, oh my gods! :D

Words: 2038 Warnings: smut, mentions of sexual trauma

Your battle cry echoed across the entire campsite when you plunged your blade forward. Lae’zel’s makeshift mind flayer dummy was rendered with holes at this point, oozing hey from several rips in the old fabric she had used to craft it.

The impact had you sway to one side and you shifted your weight, your left arm flailing about clumsily.

“Good. Now try that again without losing your balance.”

You grunted, shooting him an angry glance. He had his sleeves rolled up, and his arms crossed before his chest. It was almost distracting. Almost.

You had been at it for hours. Granted, it had been your idea—if you were going to survive this involuntary adventure, you might as well learn how to defend yourself. You were surprised you’d even made it this far. And, since attacking from the shadows was much more your cup of tea than storming headfirst into battle like Wyll or Lae’zel, you’d kindly asked Astarion to help you out.

He was a tough and strict teacher, you had to give him that. But you were making quick progress too. Before today, you hadn’t even been able to hold a dagger properly.

You withdrew your weapon and returned to your original position.

“Ah-ah-ah. No, darling. What did we just learn?” His teasing voice went down like butter. That was even more distracting.

Astarion pointed at your left foot. You shifted in the dirt, creating a grovelling noise.

“There we go. Now try again.”

You did as you were told, lunging at the dummy once more. Astarion tutted at you when you lost your balance yet again.

“Hey, don’t tut me!”

“I see where the problem lies now. Go on. Get back in position.”

Grunting once more, you obeyed. What you were not prepared for, however, was that he would step right behind you and place his hands on your stomach and waist. You sucked in a deep breath, tensing up.

“Keep tension here. You’ll want to make sure that lovely core of yours keeps you on your feet.”

Memories from your night in the woods came flooding back, sending you down a spiral of pleasure and arousal. You cleared your throat.

“Okay. I got it. I think.”

The sensation of loss was nearly overwhelming when he let go again. You could have sworn you saw him smirk from the corner of your eye.

You got into position again, took a deep breath, and… struck.

“Good girl.” You would have dropped the dagger had it not been lodged deeply within the mindflayer dummy. “Again.”

Again. Again and again and again until Astarion was certain you got the hang of it. Your arms were burning by the time he clapped and finally let you off the hook for the day.

“Be honest, you’re enjoying this a little.”

The vampire smirked. “More than just a little, darling.”

Heat crept up your cheeks, forcing you to bite your lower lip. “Whatever. I should get washed.”

“Hmm, so should I.”

You offered him a smile. Making your way toward the lake, you walked past Lae’zel who was sharpening her sword, Karlach who was dancing to a song only audible to her, and Gale practicing little magic tricks. Wyll and Halsin were with Shadowheart, talking and drinking by the fireplace.

You sighed. It could have been peaceful if it wasn’t for the imminent threat of a tadpole turning you all into thralls.

Once you reached the shore, there was no hesitation in your movements. You stripped off your clothes, knowing the bushes would hide you from unwanted eyes. As for Astarion… well… there was nothing he hadn’t seen before.

The vampire followed suit though you did notice that he avoided your gaze as he undressed. You couldn’t help but watch him regardless as he waded into the water until he was submerged hip-deep.

“You look really fine in the moonlight, you know that?” you said, joining him swiftly.

“Of course I do, I’m a vampire, darling.” He swam closer to you, allowing you to wrap your entire body around him. Astarion’s hands found your behind, squeezing gently.

“That’s not what I meant,” you whispered. His lips were cold when you met them with yours, a playful kiss soon turning into a passionate display of affection.

By the time you finally broke apart panting, Astarion rolled his shoulders with a groan.

“Is everything alright? You seem even tenser than me.”

“Oh well, it can’t be helped. Must be the weight of being a hero on my shoulders,” he spat with dismay. Oh yeah… he’d made it clear his interest in saving the refugees was ridiculously small. You had your theories on that… yet there was no way in the hells Astarion was a terrible person but rather… a person terrible things had happened to. The scars on his back spoke for themselves.

“I could help with that if you want,” you said before you could stop yourself.

“Help? How?”

“This is gonna sound silly but I used to work as a massage therapist for a few years, back in Baldur’s Gate, I mean. I have magic hands. I know a lot of techniques to relieve back pain and back tension…” You trailed off, studying his reaction.

“Magic hands?”

Astarion narrowed his eyes at you and somehow, you knew exactly what was going on in his mind. Relieving a different kind of tension at your celebration with the Tieflings was one thing… having someone work his back and stroke every inch of exposed skin with skilled hands, right over the scars that had brought him so much torment… that was another.

“You want to… well… I…”

“If you want to?”

“Well… I suppose…”

You tilted your head. He wanted to accept, you could tell. But was that… concern glistening in his red eyes?

“You know, I’m, uh… I’m not offering this to have sex with you again. I mean… I really, really enjoyed myself, Astarion but… I honestly feel like that’s the reason you’re being wary, isn’t it? Along with me, um… touching your scars.”

His lips parted.

“I just want to help. And only if you’ll let me.”

“Alright… fine.”

You nodded, the tension you didn’t realise had been building up inside of you leaving your body.

“Then come find me in my tent later.”

You left him some privacy after your swim, returning to your makeshift home to find anything you could use as a massage oil. You settled for an ointment in the end, one that Halsin usually used to treat wounds. It would do. You could hardly use a bottle of grease after all.

You were rather certain Astarion waited until the others were asleep on purpose. When he parted the fabric of your makeshift door and crouched down a little to come inside, you patted your bedroll and smiled at him.

His coyness was adorable. While before his heart-breaking confession, every single word that had left his lips was a flirt, he was but a frightened young man now, intimidated by intimacy.

“Lie down, my love. And… Astarion?”

His red eyes met yours as he followed your request and removed his shirt, once again revealing those horrifying scars to you.

“You need to stop me if you’re feeling uncomfortable, alright?”

The vampire spawn smirked. “How could I possibly feel uncomfortable with your skilled hands dancing over my body, pet?”

“You know what I mean.” You grinned, relieved that his smarm was not lost on him.

“Of course.”

“Now lie down on your belly and close your eyes.”

Astarion sighed and did as he was told. You straddled him, trifling some of the oil on your hands and rubbing them together before eventually… placing your palms on his bare back.

Your fingers glided over the ridges of his scars, your thumbs digging into the muscles, looking for any tension. You found it all too quickly, working knot after knot out of his tormented back.

Soon enough, he relaxed. His sigh was so innocent you couldn’t help but lean forward and place a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades.

You pampered him for a while, making sure to massage each and every spot on his back. You did not fail to miss the faint moan when you asked him to turn over so you could work on the rest of his body. Gods, you were enjoying this even more than he was.

Astarion’s gaze was filled with repose and… hunger. And when your eyes travelled further down, your lips parted and you realised why.

He was hard.

“Do you… do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t… you… dare…” he muttered, eyes half-closed still.

You bit your lower lip, oily hands gliding over his chest. It wasn’t just him. You were as wet as the river you’d bathed in just a few hours back and now that you were aware just how much your sensual treatment affected him, the arousal was nearly unbearable.

Breathing heavily, you swallowed and paused.

“How about… I have an idea.”

He sat up a little, propping himself on his elbows. “Oh?”

His sly smirk caught you entirely off guard though you were unsure whether he was merely trying to hide his insecurity behind it. He’d told you he didn’t want you to think of him in terms of sex for now and you would respect that wish. There was no need for you to act on your own excitement even if it drove you insane. But if he let you… you wanted to make him feel good so badly that it almost caused you physical discomfort.

“I could… take care of… that,” you muttered, pointing at the growing bulge in his trousers.

Astarion raised his eyebrows, passion glistening in those red eyes.

“Let me pamper you. No sex. I might as well give you a… full body massage at this point. And if it gets too much, you stop me.”

“We… we could try.” He nodded, lying back down but keeping his eyes wide open as you opened his trousers with gentle movements and pulled his erection free.

Astarion flinched when your oily hand wrapped around his hardening length, fingertips teasing him tenderly.

“Okay?”

He nodded.

“I need you to tell me with words, my love.”

Astarion cleared his throat. “Okay. That feels… nice.”

One thing you realised very quickly was that he had never experienced anything like this before. Someone who wished for nothing more than to bring him pleasure, to make him feel good, without expecting anything in return. To give him back his sensuality where only he and his well-being mattered without his body being sexualised or objectified…

It must have been such a novel concept to him… biting your lower lip, you began to stroke him with firm yet tender touches, your thumb gliding over his slit and rubbing over his tip.

He squirmed, bucking his hips in response with a quiet moan. It was enough of a reaction to urge you on, your movements quickening and adapting to his rapid breathing.

You paused when he uttered your name with a start.

“No… no, don’t stop, my love… don’t you dare stop…”

So you kept going, driving him to the edge with hungry ferocity. Gods, he looked so delicious. So carefree and innocent all because of you…

“I… I… I will…”

Astarion thrust up into your hands, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Pleasure flushed his entire face, his lips parting. He tensed up, his thighs shaking and his fingers clutching at the soft material of your bedroll. He came all over your hands and knuckles, ropes of seed clear evidence of his release. You helped him ride it out, squeezing every last drop from his pretty cock until he was spent and panting, his body relaxing again bit by bit.

“You look so beautiful when you come undone…” you whispered, wiping your hands on some rags you kept nearby.

He chuckled. “And you do have magic hands. I might have to ask you to do that again soon.”

You smiled, cuddling up to him with a smile. Neither of you bothered to get undressed completely. You were perfectly fine with falling asleep like this.

“Anytime, Astarion. Always.”

#astarion #astarion imagine #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #bg3 #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion ancunin #astarion fluff #astarion ancunin imagine #astarion ancunin x you #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin x tav #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 imagine #bg3 imagine #neil newbon

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writerofautumnnights · 4 months ago

Text

𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐉𝐎𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐌

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ pairing: jobe bellingham x fem!oc

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ sumary: chance encounter. A lost tourist in Sunderland. A footballer’s unexpected kindness leads to shared laughs and a subtle connection. But the language barrier and a professional commitment keep things from going further—at least for now.

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ warnings: english is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes!

keara’s imessage: wow, it's been a few days since I posted the masterlist for The Unspoken Connection, and I'm finally dropping the first chapter! Sorry for the wait, but I hope you all enjoy this little sneak peek into Sarah and Jobe’s world! 💕 Taglist is below, so let me know if you want in! I’d love to hear your thoughts! 😘

masterlist

Sarah adjusted her coat and stepped out of the building where she was staying, her headphones playing a song that made her feel a little safer in the middle of all this. The day was freezing, and the wind stung her cheeks, but she was excited. The idea of exploring cities in the UK with her language school friends seemed like a great way to make the most of her exchange experience.

But, as always, things didn’t go as planned. On the subway, she tried to follow the instructions on a sign, but the station names and directions moved too fast for her to properly understand. The first time she asked someone for help, the response came so quickly that she had to force a smile and nod in thanks—without actually understanding a single word.

This is fine. You’re doing great, Sarah. You’ll learn.

She tried to convince herself while clutching a makeshift map scribbled on the back of a paper with an address on it. But the insecurity was always there, hidden in the words she still didn’t fully grasp.

Still, when she finally reached the right station, anxiety mixed with excitement. Her friends had invited her to explore a city near Manchester, and she was determined to have fun. Even if it meant traveling a few hours away, discovering new places had been magical—except for the moments when she fell into the language trap, facing how fast people spoke in their daily lives.

And now, alone in unfamiliar streets, with no phone battery and no real physical map to guide her, her words of encouragement felt emptier than ever.

"Great, Sarah. Rule number one of studying abroad: always have a portable charger. Rule number two: learn how to follow directions properly before getting lost in another country."

She let out a frustrated sigh and looked around, searching for any visual clues that might help her remember the way to the bar/club where her friends were waiting. The cold wind made her eyes water, but it wasn’t just the weather making her uncomfortable. She should have arrived at least fifteen minutes ago, but with no GPS or easy way to contact them, all she could do was keep walking and try to recognize a familiar landmark.

That was when, while trying to decipher a street sign in English, she bumped into someone. A sudden impact, followed by a muffled sound as her bag nearly slipped from her shoulder.

"Oh, sorry!" she hurried to say, her accent immediately giving away that she wasn’t from around here.

"It’s alright," a male voice replied, light and relaxed.

Sarah quickly looked up, expecting to see some random stranger, probably just as lost as she was in this maze of streets.

But what she saw nearly knocked the breath out of her.

Jobe Bellingham.

He was right there. In front of her.

For a moment, the world seemed to slow down, like everything around her had suddenly faded into the background, leaving only that familiar face in front of her. Sarah felt her heart skip a beat, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over her. He looked even more real than in the photos—his confident smile, his piercing gaze.

Like she had somehow ended up inside one of the fanfics she’d read weeks ago. But instead of being the author imagining everything, she was actually living it.

"I can’t believe I’m living a fanfic in reverse," she thought, irony hitting her like a slap. The kind of absurd thought that normally would’ve made her laugh, but she couldn’t. Her throat felt too tight to say anything.

She stared at him, trying to mask her shock, but her brain was short-circuiting, struggling to process reality while his voice still echoed in her mind.

His dark, curious eyes were fixed on her, and for a second, the confusion was mutual. He clearly had no idea who she was, but Sarah knew exactly who he was. Or at least, who he was in the football world.

Jobe was wearing a brown suede jacket, left open just enough to reveal the white T-shirt underneath. The sleeves were slightly rolled up, giving him a casual but put-together look. Black track pants with blue stripes added a relaxed touch, contrasting with the more polished upper half. It was the kind of outfit that showed he cared about how he looked—but effortlessly. A perfect balance of style and comfort. His hair, slightly messy, still managed to look perfectly in place, adding to that laid-back charm. The streetlights cast a soft glow on his skin, highlighting his sharp features.

Sarah quickly looked away, embarrassment flooding her body, desperate to focus on anything other than the growing chaos in her mind.

No, breathe, Sarah. Calm down. He’s just a football player. Just… the younger brother of the famous one. No big deal.

Fuck.

But he’s hot. And tall.

"It’s really alright," he repeated, stepping slightly to the side as if to give her more space. His tone was casual, easygoing, but Sarah felt something else beneath it—something unspoken, an unexpected kind of pull. He didn’t feel like a famous football player or someone untouchable. Somehow, he felt… approachable. And that made the whole situation even weirder.

She shifted uncomfortably, taking a few steps back. The words were stuck on her tongue.

How was she supposed to react? Should she mention the fact that she’d read fanfics about him? That would be ridiculous, right?

She struggled to mask the rising panic, praying she didn’t come off as some crazy fan.

Jobe frowned slightly, his curiosity evident. Noticing her hesitation, he gave her a small, amused smile.

"You alright?"

Sarah forced herself to look at him. So calm, so... normal. As if he wasn’t the biggest football star she’d ever seen in real life. She tried to steady her voice, figuring out how to act.

"Oh, yeah! Of course!" She spoke too fast, trying to sound confident, but the weight of her accent made it clear—English wasn’t her first language.

I’m here, he’s here, and no one’s going to believe me if I ever tell this story.

He looked at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity, not immediately realizing who she was or why there was tension in the air.

"You alright?" he asked. "You look a bit... uh, all over the shop. Need a hand? ‘Cause I can sort you out."

The speed of his words made her brain freeze for a second. Sarah understood English, but different accents were still a challenge—especially when someone spoke fast and full of slang.

She hesitated, her mind scrambling for a response. Say something! Say anything!

"My phone… died. And I… kinda have no idea where I am," she admitted, gesturing with her hands, as if that would help explain.

Jobe raised an eyebrow, his eyes shining with something that could’ve been sympathy or just pure amusement.

"So… you’re lost."

"Not lost!" Sarah quickly corrected, motioning to the street around them. "Just... temporarily... misplaced," she added, forcing a nervous laugh.

He glanced around, like he was trying to get a read on the situation. The wind made her hair move, and she quickly fixed it, but she didn’t dare do anything else except wait.

"Right," he teased. "Where are you trying to go?"

Sarah frowned, trying to piece together the right sentence. I can’t say I was trying to get to a bar with my friends and now, somehow, I’m standing here talking to Jobe Bellingham...

She shook her head quickly, pushing the thought aside. Not the time for this.

"I… need to find… some friends," she tried, still mixing up her words. "But… not knowing the way."

Jobe raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by her effort.

"No problem," he said. "Tell me where it is, maybe I can help."

Sarah hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to come off like some desperate fan using this as an excuse to spend more time with him. But the truth was—she really did need help.

She sighed and, before handing him the note, mumbled, "This is weird."

Jobe frowned, amused. "What is?"

"Oh, no, not you!" Sarah rushed to clarify, gesturing nervously. "I mean, the situation! Me, lost, and then… you. Not that you're weird, I just—"

Jobe let out a laugh, crossing his arms. "Honestly, this just keeps getting better."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a shy smile before reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper where she had written the address before leaving.

Jobe took the paper and glanced at it quickly, smiling when he saw what she had written.

"Oh, it's not far from here. I can take you there if you want."

Sarah’s eyes widened. She didn’t want to seem like an inconvenience, but considering that her only other option was asking random strangers and hoping to understand their directions…

"Are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to…"

"Yeah, I know. But I want to."

Jobe didn’t even have to think much before saying that. It was instinctive, almost unconscious—a simple desire to extend the conversation, to enjoy her company a little longer.

He observed her for a moment, in a way that didn’t reveal too much but still allowed him to take in every detail. She looked beautiful. Actually, she looked absolutely stunning. The black outfit created a striking contrast against her golden skin under the streetlights, and the leather skirt paired with high-heeled boots gave her an effortless confidence. The gold jewelry reflected tiny sparkles whenever she moved, drawing attention to her gestures, to the way her hands followed her words.

But it wasn’t just that. The way Sarah furrowed her brows while trying to find the right words, how she gestured a little more than necessary to make up for the lack of fluency—everything about her had a natural charm that intrigued him. Jobe realised he liked that. He liked the soft accent that slipped into her English, the honesty in her eyes when she tried to explain herself and got lost in the middle of it.

He just wasn’t the type to show that kind of thing. Never had been. And if Sarah paid attention, she’d figure that out soon enough.

"Oh, I don’t want to be a bother! I just—"

"I already told you, no worries," he interrupted with a shrug, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Jobe." He extended his hand to greet her.

"Sarah."

"So, Sarah…" His British accent saying her name made her feel like a teenager, but she played it cool. "Consider this my good deed for the day."

She laughed, relaxing a little.

"Alright, Mr. Good Deeds… I think that’s how you say it." Jobe chuckled, making her smile. "Lead the way."

He nodded, already starting to walk and motioning for her to follow. As they walked side by side along the cobbled streets, Sarah tried to focus on the conversation, but her mind was racing. What was she even doing? She was walking next to Jobe Bellingham. The Bellingham younger brother. If she told anyone, no one would believe her.

She tried not to look stupid or nervous, but the effect he had on her was undeniable.

The conversation flowed naturally—at least until Sarah stumbled over an expression he used and had to ask him to repeat it.

"Wait, what does proper dodgy mean?"

Jobe blinked, surprised, before laughing. "Means suspicious. Like, well sketchy."

"Oh, I see. Sketchy," she repeated, mentally memorising it.

"Wait, you don’t know English slang?"

"I’m learning," she admitted, a little embarrassed. "It’s harder when I need information and end up talking to someone young."

Jobe observed Sarah’s behaviour as they walked, dividing his attention between the road ahead and the woman beside him. Her glasses kept shifting from one hand to the other, a clear sign of her nerves. But Sarah did everything she could to hide it.

"I reckon I’ll have to teach you then."

"Much appreciated."

Sarah caught herself smiling at him. She was starting to relax, but a part of her was still on high alert. The cobbled streets were narrow and charming, but she was so focused on not tripping that she could barely appreciate the scenery.

"You’ve got a funny accent," he remarked, a mischievous smile highlighting his dimple.

SHIT.

Sarah looked at him, trying not to get flustered.

"I know, it’s… I’m trying to improve. If I had my phone, it’d be easier—I can use the translator."

"Nah. Don’t worry, I get you. And it’s cute!" He glanced at her with a grin, noticing how carefully she stepped to avoid getting her heels caught in the pavement. "Just don’t ask me to talk like you, yeah? That’d be, like… impossible."

She laughed, relieved that he wasn’t making fun of her struggles. But then he dropped another phrase she didn’t understand.

"That’s kinda like ‘dodgy’, right?" Sarah asked, frowning slightly.

"Exactly! Look at you, picking things up quick."

Sarah smiled, feeling a bit more confident, but then she stumbled over her words, struggling to keep up with his accent.

"I just… I need to get better. And you—you all…" she quickly corrected herself, "make me nervous sometimes. Everything sounds different to me."

Jobe noticed her frustration as she crossed her arms against herself, and without making a big deal of it, he shifted his coat closer to her when the cold wind cut through the air.

"If you want, you can take my coat," he offered with a gentle smile.

She hesitated for a moment, brushing her fingers over the fabric.

"Thanks, but I’m fine."

"So, you’d rather not look like a penguin, then," he teased, making her laugh.

As they walked side by side, Sarah found herself reflecting on the moment. Jobe was being so… approachable. She never imagined a famous footballer like him would be this easygoing, this… normal. He didn’t seem anything like the celebrities she saw on social media. He was just helping someone who was lost, like anyone else would.

But it confused her. What was he even doing here? Walking with her, so far removed from the world of flashing cameras and headlines? Was he just being polite, or was there something more? Was she reading too much into this?

She pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the walk, but the insecurity lingered. She was lost in Sunderland, struggling to understand Jobe’s English, frustrated with herself for not being fluent yet. It felt like all the challenges of her exchange trip were piling up, and now this—this strange interaction with someone she knew was famous. It was almost too much.

"Tell me more about yourself," Jobe asked, pulling her back into the conversation. "Where are you from?"

She hesitated. "I’m from Brazil."

"Oh, sick!" He smiled, as if that was an unexpectedly interesting fact. "And are you liking England so far?"

"Yeah, but it’s complicated," Sarah replied, laughing a little. "But I’m learning. Sometimes I get frustrated with English… some days it’s really hard to understand everything."

Jobe seemed to pick up on her struggle and quickly cracked a joke to lighten the mood. "Well, you’re doing better than me. I wouldn’t understand a bloody thing if I tried speaking Portuguese."

"Oh, you don’t know what you’re missing," she teased, a bit of pride in her tone.

"Your mates really chose Sunderland of all places to visit?" Jobe couldn’t hide his curiosity. He could if he wanted to, but Sarah was exactly his type. She caught his eye. The way her outfit hugged her curves made it impossible not to notice. It was like one of the girls from his Instagram had just stepped into real life, right in front of him.

She was definitely his type.

Sarah adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, hesitating for a second before answering. “In Manchester, actually. But I came here with some friends. We wanted to explore a bit.”

He raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “So you left Manchester to come to Sunderland?”

She laughed. “Yeah, sounds kind of random, right?”

“A little,” he admitted, crossing his arms. “Not that I’m complaining, but people usually pick Newcastle or a bigger city. Sunderland isn’t usually at the top of the list.”

Sarah shrugged, amused. “We wanted to watch a football match outside of London, and someone suggested here because of a Netflix series. And well… now we’re here, and I still got lost.”

Jobe chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I’m glad you were lucky enough to bump into me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Lucky? You almost ran me over.”

He placed a hand on his chest, feigning indignation. “Now I’m the villain of the story?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah replied, pretending to think. “You like running, right? Maybe you thought you were on the field.”

Jobe smiled, tilting his head slightly, as if assessing her response. “Funny one, aren’t you?”

Sarah just gave a small smile, trying to ignore the way he was looking at her, as if he was genuinely enjoying their conversation.

“But anyway,” he continued, “how long are you staying in Sunderland?”

“Just until Monday. Then I go back to Manchester.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, nodding slowly. “So you don’t have much time to get lost again.”

Sarah laughed. “Yeah, that’s why I need to find my friends soon.”

The conversation remained light until, turning a corner, Sarah tripped on a loose stone. Jobe immediately grabbed her arm, preventing her from falling.

“Whoa! Are you okay?” he asked, a concerned smile on his face, still holding her arm for a moment.

Sarah wanted to hide inside herself. If it were possible, a blush would have spread across her cheeks, but she tried not to show any nervousness. “Yes, all good. I just… seem to be uncoordinated.”

He laughed softly. “No big deal. But hey, if you need more English lessons or balance lessons, you know where to find me.”

Sarah looked at him, her heart beating a little faster, but feeling more at ease. He was being much kinder and more fun than she expected from someone like him.

“I thought it was closer,” Sarah admitted after feeling slight discomfort in her feet, but quickly backtracked. “I liked your company, okay? It’s just… my boots, t-they’re not great.”

Jobe laughed at Sarah’s nervousness, making her bite her lip.

“It’s all good!”

When they reached the corner where the bar/club was, Sarah saw her friends through the window, waving excitedly.

“Looks like your friends actually found a place!” Jobe commented, stopping beside her.

Sarah didn’t want to go. She had enjoyed talking to someone who had the patience for her language slips.

“But you still haven’t told me… How did you end up in Sunderland?”

He laughed, as if it was an interesting question. “Well, you know, football. The team brought me here. But I thought that since I’m in the UK, it wouldn’t be too hard. How long are you staying in Manchester?”

Sarah thought for a moment, trying to choose the right answer. She knew he was trying to learn more about her without being invasive, but it felt strange to talk to someone so far from her reality yet so close at the same time. “I’ll be here for a few months. I’m taking the opportunity to improve my English and… figure myself out a little.”

Jobe looked at her with a spark in his eyes, more curious than she expected. “And what exactly brought you to England?”

She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to explain about the exchange program. She didn’t want him to see her as someone lost, but she wasn’t lying.

“It’s a bit complicated, but I wanted to see more of the world… and improve my English.”

“I get it. Manchester isn’t exactly London, but it’s a good place to focus, and there’s plenty to do.” Jobe paused, and for a second, it seemed like he wanted to ask more, but he decided to change the subject. “So you’ll be there for a while.”

“Yes, I think it’ll be a good experience.”

As they neared the club, Sarah looked at him. It was strange. She had just met Jobe, but their conversation flowed so naturally that it felt like she had known him for much longer. She wanted to enjoy the moment, but at the same time, she didn’t know what to do with this whirlwind of feelings.

“Well, here we are,” she said, trying to hide her nervousness. “I… I’ll go in and see if my friends are here.”

Jobe looked at her, still with that charming smile. “I’ll wait here. No need to worry, I’m fine.”

But Sarah had a sudden idea. She hesitated before speaking. “You… don’t want to come in and enjoy a bit? If it’s not a bother, of course.”

Jobe looked at her with a curious expression, the smile still on his lips. “Are you inviting me to go into the club with you?”

“Hmm, yeah… If you want to,” she replied, feeling a bit nervous but eager to seize the moment.

Sarah couldn’t understand why she was so nervous. Okay. The language wasn’t her strong suit, so her mind kept jumping between translating or forming sentences with the correct verb tenses, but this felt different.

She felt like a teenager. And Jobe loved seeing how he could affect her.

“I’d love to,” he said, with a tone that made Sarah feel more comfortable, but then he shook his head with a half-guilty smile. “But I’ve got practice early tomorrow. If I go in now, I won’t leave for a while, and my coach would probably kill me.”

Sarah nodded, trying to hide the irrational sting of disappointment she felt. Of course, he couldn’t stay. He was a professional athlete, had a disciplined career. Unlike her, still figuring out what to do with her life.

“Oh, of course,” she said quickly. “That makes sense. Discipline and all.”

Jobe tilted his head, watching her as if he were trying to figure her out. “You seem disappointed,” he commented, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Sarah laughed, crossing her arms. “Maybe just a little. But only because I wanted to see if you’d get lost trying to understand the conversations inside here.”

He let out a low laugh. “Hey, I’m English, remember? I have the advantage here.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. Depending on the accent and speed, I don’t understand Americans sometimes.”

Jobe smiled and shook his head, as if he was enjoying the conversation more than he should. Then, before the silence between them got awkward, he shoved his hands in his coat pockets and asked, “But tell me, where are you staying?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah answered without thinking too much. “I mean, I don’t know the hotel’s address. But it’s near the station. Maybe I’ll learn the name if I don’t go crazy trying to understand everything.”

He laughed. “I think you’ll be fine. But, just in case… you should give me your number. If you get lost again and need a translator.”

Sarah blinked, surprised.

Wait.

He was... asking for her number?

No, it must just be out of kindness. Or he says that to everyone. Or maybe he was just making sure she wouldn’t have to stop any more strangers on the street.

But why did she feel that flutter in her stomach?

She opened her mouth to respond, but hesitated. The truth was...

“I don’t know my number,” she confessed, laughing nervously. “I mean, it’s a new SIM card, and I haven’t memorized it yet.”

Jobe raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Okay, then just text me and we’re good.”

“My phone’s dead, remember?”

He let out a short laugh. “That’s true. So you’re completely unreachable?”

Sarah made a face. “Basically.”

“Rough, huh?” Jobe joked, shaking his head but not seeming bothered. “Do you at least have Instagram?”

“I do,” she answered, and before she could hesitate, grabbed his phone when he handed it over and typed in her username.

When she handed it back, Jobe looked at the screen and gave her a sideways smile. “Nice. Now you have no excuse if you get lost again.”

She laughed, but inside she doubted he would actually remember to follow her later. He probably knew thousands of people all the time. It was just a polite gesture.

“Alright, I’ll head off,” he said, taking a step back. “It was fun saving your night.”

Sarah rolled her eyes with a smile. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, winking at her. “But let me know if you need more English lessons.”

And with that, he turned and started walking away, while Sarah was still trying to process everything.

She walked into the bar, feeling a mix of excitement and disbelief. Why was she reacting like this? Just because Jobe Bellingham had been nice to her?

She mentally scolded herself. He was younger. And a famous athlete. What the hell was she thinking?

dividers by @cafekitsune

pictures from pinterest and ig

faceclaim: @/amaka.ae on ig!

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hiramaris · 7 months ago

Text

Kiss It Off Me

CHAPTER 9

Chapter Summary:

If she's second-guessing everything she ever thought was platonic and casual between the two of you, is this still casual? They should have meant nothing but it's starting to feel like there is something.

Pairings: Haley x Fem!Farmer

Disclaimer: I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: None?

Notes:

I know, I know I'm such a horrible person for leaving this story hanging loose in the air. I've honestly had this chapter rotting in my drafts because I didn't have the motivation to write anymore, not to mention the lack of luxury with time. I just recently graduated as well so I was busy preparing for that back in July-October (I'm a working woman now, hooray! [Not 😔]) Nobody told me that working a 9-5 job (or more like 8-6 in my case) is going to be the end of me. That doesn't even include the 6-hour commute back to back. So as you can see, I'm dying here. I don't really have the time to sit in front of my laptop after hours of sitting in front of my company laptop 😔 I'm really sorry for the long wait, and I still can't promise an immediate update after this. This chapter serves as my apology to you guys. Hope you like it!

Fall 1

"Tell me. Are you and Y/n/n dating?"

Haley nearly choked on her food. Emily said it so casually that she wasn't prepared how to react properly.

So, as opposed to her usually calm and composed demeanor, Haley only managed to sputter a pathetic "what?" as she sat down her toast and reached for her glass of water in hopes to wash down the piece of damn bread she had swallowed accidentally without chewing it properly, courtesy of her sister.

"Are you and Y/n/n dating?" Emily repeated, unabashed and with her annoying eyes crinkling from the side, a look Haley knew all too well when Emily was trying to rise up something in her.

"No, I heard you the first time!" Haley exclaimed, her face turning red as she slammed the empty glass. "I mean–what the hell, Em?"

Emily raised an eyebrow, taking a leisurely sip of her coffee, acting like she was not actively ruining her little sister's evening right now.

"You mean to tell me you're not after your whole public display of affection on the night of the moonlight jellies?"

For a brief moment, the events flashed back on Haley's mind– your silent tears, quivering lips, Haley's arm wrapped around your waist in an almost protective, comforting way as you shared your thoughts with her for the first time since you came here. It was a casual and completely platonic thing to do.

She could vividly remember how fresh tears bested up on your eyes as a baby jellyfish separated itself from its group and went towards you, almost peering cautiously at the human before her.

It was beautiful, you said that night. The night was magical. and that only sank into you that you were no longer Joja's prisoner. You're here, in Pelican town, making a name for yourself, with townspeople who loved you and treated you as an equal. You have actual friends that care for you and most importantly, you found a home.

Was it casual for her to know all this?

"Y/n was feeling emotional at that moment. I was just trying to be her friend," she finally said after a moment of silence.

Yes, it's casual.

Emily must have noticed her pausing as she scoffed behind her toast. "Friend? I certainly don't kiss Sandy's forehead, and she's my best friend."

"Because you're doing way worse with her." Haley rolled her eyes at that. "Seriously, Em, get off my back. Y/n and I are just good friends."

"Okay, I'll get off your back if you can counter my arguments," Emily challenged, leaning forward the table with a mischievous glint in her eye.

She should say no. Emily's just giving her something else to bite on knowing fully well Haley's bound to bite more than she could chew.

Say no. There's nothing to counter because there's nothing to even argue about.

Say n–

"Yoba, fine, if that will shut you up." Damn it, Haley.

Emily's smirk grew and Haley dreaded the first thing that would come out of her hippie mouth.

"You don't kiss Alex on the forehead at all. You don't even hug him for Yoba's sake, and he's your best friend. You're going to tell me everything that's going on with Y/n is entirely platonic and casual?" Emily's expression was triumphant as she laid out her case.

Haley lets out a grin of her own. If Emily's going to lay out obvious bullshits like this then she can definitely handle whatever her sister's planning to throw at her.

"First off, Alex stinks—"

"Y/n/n's job makes her friends with dirt and sweat, no offense to her, but isn't that an ick already to you?" Emily interrupted, smirking.

"I wouldn't know what you're talking about because her hygiene is almost as impeccable as mine," Haley retorted, a smirk of her own forming as she took a defiant bite of her bacon.

"Okay... Were you practicing your answers before?" Emily narrowed her eyes at her, suspicious. "There's no way you're this prepared to counter my arguments!"

"So, I won?"

"Ah, ah... not quite, little sis." Emily stopped her from standing up. "How about the sunflower? That girl planted a whole yard of sunflowers in her yard and you mean to tell me there's nothing homosexual happening around you guys?"

"She's a farmer, duh. Of course, she's going to plant sunflowers at some point. They're pretty and very much profitable."

"Not as profitable as blueberries, corn, or cranberries. Plus, I've been there, it's almost half a hectare, it's crazy."

"You're kidding?" Haley's eyes bulged at that. She's got to admit, she did not see that bullet coming. "Last time I was there, it was just in her front yard."

"Half a hectare," her sister affirmed with that stupidly annoying knowing smirk. "You didn't see that coming, did you? Got no counter for me?"

"Shut up. If you're so curious about her lack of good strategy with her crops, you should talk to her yourself." Haley finally snapped, pushing her plate away.

She's done humoring Emily with her shits.

"Oh, I'll do just that." But it seemed her sister wasn't done with her either. "Anyway, moving on. How can you explain the holding hands?"

Haley visibly relaxed at that. She has some sensible explanation for that, one she's certain Emily wouldn't be able to counter.

"Female friends do that."

"Hmm... So if she were to hold hands with her best friend, Penny, that would be alright with you?" Well, shit.

That made her pause for the second time this evening.

"Of course," she scoffed. "As I said, it's normal for female friends to do that. It's a casual thing girls do. Nothing to bat an eye for."

Sensible explanation her ass. That wasn't even half-sensible, if at all

"I figured," Emily responded, expression turning much more serious now that it kind of made Haley even more nervous. "I just thought if she were this mushy with you, and you're just friends with her, then she's probably mushier with her best friend."

Silence.

Because what the fuck is she supposed to respond to that? This is a piece of information that hadn't crossed her mind, ever. She knows you're a sweetheart to everyone. It's as if it was second nature to you. It was a casual and completely platonic of you to do. Nothing to bat an eye for.

Nothing.

Still. She just hadn't considered the possibility of you being mushier to others.

Were you also comforting Penny the way you were comforting her?

So caring and protective that it felt like those warmth were exclusive just for her only?

She just couldn't imagine it before and now it's physically making her sick in her stomach. Was this still casual for her to even feel?

"She's pals as well with Leah, I heard they'd occasionally do sleepovers in their cabins. It's so cut–" Emily went on before finally noticing the turmoil in her sister's eyes cascading down to her hands. "Okay, what did that tissue ever do to you?"

Haley stopped, noticing the crumpled piece of tissue against her clenched fists. She looked up to Emily with a sharp glare and found her sister staring back at her, not even flinching away from her dissecting gaze. "Why are you even saying this to me?"

"Nothing. Just thought it would be best to talk to one of the possible sources. I heard from Abigail that Y/n/n just recently purchased a bouquet of flowers so I thought she might have given it to you."

Emily's sudden nonchalance at this conversation is infuriating her to a certain degree that she felt like she wanted to barge inside Clint's sorry-ass-of-a-shop and beat the living shit out of him.

Emily went on, humming casually as she piled up the dishes to wash them in the sink. "Hmm, I couldn't believe I was wrong. You were so close with her that I thought she'd give it to you. I guess she's been secretly seeing someone else then."

"She what?" Her stomach dropped.

Haley was so caught off guard at her last sentence that she couldn't help but rip the tissue on her hands. So much for that.

"It's been the talk of the town, you know? There are even bets going on but it's kind of hard to pinpoint who exactly, not when she gets along with all the bachelors and bachelorettes here. Some even bet on themselves, like Abigail. I mean, it does make sense. She and Y/n/n spent an awful lot of time on those mines."

That made Haley stand up from her seat, her form indignant. "So, you bet on me? Is this why we're having this conversation?"

"Of course, I would support my sister!" replied Emily, briefly looking behind her shoulder just in time to catch Haley scowling from where she stood. She went on, almost saying the words in a singsong voice as she continued soaking the dishes. "But if you want, I can always bet to myself. Y/n is a cute gal after all."

"I hate everything about you."

"You don't!" Emily readily chirped out behind Haley who had enough of this conversation and was already stomping her way into her room.

"Good night, Em!"

With that, she slammed the door to her room in hopes of finally ending this damn conversation. If she knew this was where it would have led, she would have bolted out the moment Emily opened her mouth.

She didn't need to know all this particularly if you hadn't even said anything else to her about this.

She scoffed. 'I thought we were close enough for her to share something like this with me. Afraid not.'

"I'm just saying, sis. Y/n/n is one of the most eligible bachelorettes in the valley. Anyone would be lucky to have her."

Emily's voice came once again just behind her door making her groan against her pillow. Hadn't she had enough?

Haley briefly considered running towards her dark room just to tune out whatever Emily was going to say but she stopped dead in her tracks when her sister's words next came through.

"There's going to be a competition. If you don't get your shit together soon, someone's bound to steal her heart. I just hate to see you getting hurt."

Was it casual for her to admit that hearing this news was already starting to hurt her?

This could mean nothing. Right?

****

Fall 2

A day of shopping in Zuzu City was just what Haley needed. While she had promised herself to tone down on hoarding clothes, she made an exception just this once. Shopping was one of her ways to cope with stress, aside from photography, but she had scratched the thought of using her camera for today because she didn't feel like spending her day wandering around town. With the bets on whom Y/n was giving the bouquet to, she knew the townspeople's eyes were hot on her trail.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape when Haley stepped off the bus, her arms laden with shopping bags from her trip to the city.

She had noticed Pam looking her way since the trip began, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what the older woman wanted to hear from her. That's why when the bus pulled to a stop, Haley was quick to bolt out of the vehicle.

"Oi, kid." Haley froze at the sound of Pam's voice. So much for her plan to escape. "Haley."

"Oh." Haley whirled around, fighting back a wince at what was about to come. "Hey, Pam. What's up?"

Pam's steps were slow and deliberate as she stepped off the bus and Haley had no choice but to watch and wait expectantly for the words to finally come out.

"Are you and Farmer Y/n dating?" There it is.

Despite expecting this topic, Haley couldn't help but feel her face flush slightly under Pam's scrutinizing gaze.

"Uhm... no?"

Pam raised an eyebrow. "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Haley shifted on her feet, glancing down at her shopping bags as if they might provide an answer. "We're not dating," she said more firmly this time. "Why?"

"Good, then that scratches you off the list."

"Excuse me?" Haley's brows knitted in confusion.

"You see, kid. There have been bets going on about who Y/n will give the bouquet to. Of course, I'm putting all my beers on my little girl. She's the closest to the farmer, aside from you. So, if you weren't dating Y/n, then my Penny's definitely got a shot."

Haley blinked, taken aback. "And you're okay with that? I mean... Y/n's a girl and all..."

Pam raised an eyebrow, her expression turning serious. "I didn't know you were homophobic, kid."

"I'm not! I swear. It's just that… things are a bit different now compared to your—well, generation. I doubt my folks would be as accepting as you."

Pam's face softened slightly as she sighed. "Penny's father left us when she was really young. So, I don't wish for her to experience the same thing. Y/n's a good kid. Responsible and has a sense of direction. Far from my dead-beat husband. Penny's happy with her, and that's the only thing that matters to me. And it's not bad that the gal is well-off. I heard she was supposed to be Joja's heiress. But even so, that farm of hers is enough to provide for generations of her future family. I could never ask for more capable hands to take care of my kid than Y/n."

Haley couldn't help but tune out of this conversation. She didn't need to hear all the right reasons why Penny's the best shot for your heart. Penny's a sweetheart and all, has her heart set in the right direction, a characteristic that perfectly compliments your lifestyle.

But why does this feel like Emily stabbed her with her kitchen knife and twisted it for good measure just to spite her?

Wait... what did she just say?

"Joja?" She furrowed her eyebrows at this information. "Where'd you hear that?"

"From the mayor, but don't tell him I told you. I think it was supposed to be a secret or some shit." Pam shrugged. " Still... word gets around, you know? Small town and all. People talk. But it doesn't matter where she came from. What matters is who she is now and how she treats the people she cares about."

Haley nodded slowly, absorbing Pam's words but couldn't tell exactly why there was a lump in her throat she couldn't swallow.

"I guess you're right. Y/n's a good person. Anyone would be lucky to have her." Haley faked a smile, desperately hoping the older woman didn't catch her in her lie.

Pam smiled, her stern demeanor softening. "Exactly. So, if you're not interested, that's fine. But just know that I know when people are bullshitting me. I know, I know it's not any of my business. But if you really do happen to have something going on with the farmer, get your shit together soon."

"I'll..." She didn't know it was possible to have the lump in her throat grow even more, she could feel a twinge of something else she couldn't quite identify. "I'll take note of that. Thanks for the chat, Pam. I'll see you around."

"Likewise, kid," Pam replied, waving as she climbed back onto the bus. "Oh, and Haley?"

"Hmm?"

"You know what you feel, don't let fear stop you from following your heart, or else you'll spend the rest of your life wishing you had."

When even other people can point out how non-platonic and far from casual the things you and she do are, is it still casual now?

****

Fall 9

It's been an excruciating week of being asked if she was dating Y/n, and it's starting to get on Haley's nerves. Not because she was entirely opposed to the idea, but because she knew it wasn't even her to begin with, and she didn't need everyone rubbing salt in her wound every minute and every second of every damn day.

She didn't need to hear Abigail bragging to Sebastian and Sam that any day now, she'd be receiving the same bouquet she had arranged that you bought from Pierre, and how ironic it would be if she were to receive them, and how she wasn't actually opposed to the idea.

"I haven't really considered that I could possibly like a girl, but hey, it's Y/n. I'm not complaining. If she were to give me the flowers, I'd say yes in a heartbeat," she had even said. That's all Haley needed to hear to decide she wasn't in the mood to shop right now at Pierre's if she was going to hear bullshits like that.

She also didn't need to hear any sort of development you have with Penny. She didn't need to know you went with her to Zuzu to buy some school supplies for the kids on Penny's birthday. She didn't need to hear you gave the teacher and her students a tour of your farm.

She didn't need to hear any of it.

Because how in Yoba's name had she not considered your growing friendship with the redhead?

"Miss Y/n? I have a question," Haley heard one day from behind the trees by Cindersap Lake. She lowered her camera from her eyes when she recognized Jas' voice followed by yours.

"What is it, Jas?"

"You're from the city, right? How do you court someone there?"

She heard you chuckle. "Well... We go on dates, walk our dates back to their door, and then... That's when our date will decide if they still want to see us for our next date."

You paused, and Haley thought that was it, but the next words you uttered almost made her pack up her equipment and go home.

"And if we're worthy of being kissed."

"Y/n!" came Penny's scandalized gasp. "They're kids. They don't need to hear that!"

"Right, right... Sorry, Pen!"

"Ohhh." That's Vincent. "So, are you like courting Miss Penny since you're walking her home, too?"

"Vincent!" Penny scolded, sounding almost aghast at her student's blunt question.

Haley could only allow herself to breathe when you finally answered Sam's brother.

"Haha, we're walking Jas home together, remember? If anything, it seems you were the one courting her since you wanted to come with us to walk her home," you teased him.

"Ew! I don't want Vincent to court me!"

"Hey! What's wrong with me?"

"You're too childish like your brother! No wonder Miss Penny turned down Mister Sam. I bet you she likes someone like Miss Y/n. I know I would."

"Hey!" yelled Vincent, obviously offended.

"Okay, that's enough kids," admonished Penny, and Haley could only imagine the horror on her face at Jas' comment. "It's not good to gossip, Jas, and it's not polite to ask adults things like that, Vincent."

"Alright, Miss Penny. I'm getting inside. Thank you for walking me home," Jas replied, her tone still somewhat defiant.

"Bye, Jas!" you called after her, followed by the sound of Vincent sniffling. "Hey now, little dude... don't be upset. I'm sure Jas was only joking."

"I don't understand why she needs to be mean. Am I not likable?" Vincent's voice wavered.

Haley dared to take a peek behind the bushes. She watched as you knelt down to be at eye level with Vincent, your smile as warm as the setting sun.

"Anyone can be likable to a certain someone. Like you," you said, ruffling his hair. "But we can't really force someone to like us the way we want, you know?"

"But... are you just going to accept they don't like you even though you're nice?" Vincent asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

You chuckled softly, briefly looking up to meet Penny's eyes, which had been fixed on you with such fondness that it tightened the knot in Haley's stomach.

"Well... I didn't say you have to give up. Sometimes people say mean things to protect themselves. You just have to be patient, and I'm sure they'll come around eventually," you explained gently.

Vincent nodded, his big brown eyes hanging on to every word you said.

"But..." you continued, "if this person has made it clear they don't like you, then you have to accept their boundaries, okay?"

"Eh..." He pouted. "I don't get it. Adulting is so confusing."

You barked out a laugh. "Don't worry, you have plenty of time to grow up, buddy."

Vincent's expression brightened a bit at your words. "Okay, I'll try to remember that."

"That's the spirit," you said, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Penny smiled, her eyes softening as she looked at you. "Thank you, Y/n. You're really good with them."

"Thanks, Penny," you replied, standing up and stretching. "They're good kids. Just need a little guidance sometimes."

"Are you feeling any better now, Vincent?" Penny asked gently. "Don't take Jas' words to heart, okay?"

"Uh-huh! I'm feeling a little better, Miss Penny! But... could Miss Y/n carry me until we get home? I'm..." He yawned. "I'm a little tired."

"Uhm, I don't think..."

"... alrighty then, let's get this little guy home as well," Haley could hear you grunt, and she could only imagine you carrying the sleepy Vincent in your arms.

"Your farm's right there, Y/n/n." Penny pointed out gently. "I can walk Vincent home. You don't have to make a detour."

"Nonsense, a little walk isn't going to kill me. Plus, I want to walk you home as well."

The redhead giggled softly. "I wasn't informed you were courting me."

"Oh, really now? I wasn't informed either," you joked, and Haley could feel herself dying a little on the inside.

****

Was it casual when you gave her daffodils every chance you could get when you barely even knew her?

Was it casual for you to have a daily mandatory breakfast with the Carter siblings?

Was it casual when you gave Haley her favorite gift on her birthday even though coconuts aren't something you can just spawn at hand when you need them to?

Was it casual that you managed to pay attention enough to actually know what her favorites are?

When you were drunk and Haley made her way outside to get you, in a greasy saloon of all places, even though she's not yet finished with her skincare, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you called her babe while you were drunk?

Was it casual when you declared you'd only allow yourself to be this close to her is in the reality you created in your dreams?

When she stayed at your place, took care of you, and cleaned your vomit-stained shirt and mattress, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you avoided her for four days because you thought you ruined her pampering day?

When she started minimizing her makeup because you told her once she's pretty even without them, was it casual?

When Haley was upset at the thought you'd be dancing with someone else, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you assured her you didn't want to dance with anyone but her?

When Haley, for once, didn't think about winning the flower dance and was focused on your endearing smile and relaxing embrace, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you were bloody and wet from the rain and the first thing you thought was knocking on her door?

When she could only focus on your wounds rather than your dirt-stained body staining the carpet, was it casual?

When Haley tried her hardest to treat your wounds despite fearing the sight of blood, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you almost died to get her a gift just because you thought she'd find them pretty enough to be the subject of her camera?

When Haley kissed your forehead the same way her grandmother used to do on her to kiss the pain away, was it casual?

When Haley forced you to take her bed because she couldn't bear to let your injured self sleep uncomfortably on the couch, was it still casual?

Was it casual when the first thing you thought upon waking up was to let Haley sleep on her bed because you didn't want her to suffer any back pain from her sleeping position on the foot of the bed even though you're injured yourself?

When Haley thought you hated her for the poisonous words she spouted on you that night and hated herself for it, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you tried your hardest to find her great grandma's bracelet because you couldn't bear to see her so upset despite your injuries?

Was it casual when you crafted a bouquet of sunflowers to make up for giving her a hated gift?

Was it casual when you planted a whole yard of sunflowers on your farm when Haley mentioned in passing that she loves them?

Was it casual when you helped her with her shopping bags even though you were obviously going somewhere else?

Was it casual for you and her to walk in the town, hand in hand? It could mean nothing.

When Haley's view of success was you beside her, was it casual?

When Haley couldn't handle the feeling of disappointing you, was it casual?

Was it casual of you to magically appear whenever she needs you?

Was it casual of you to be her number-one supporter in everything when she couldn't even believe in herself?

Was it casual when you made it your personal mission to keep her happy no matter what?

Was it casual when you made sure that no dirt could touch her not when you're around because you know how much she hated getting dirty?

When Haley no longer minds the feeling and smell of dirt, especially when you're around, was it still casual now?

Was it casual when you modeled for her despite hating modeling itself because Haley needed some new variations for her photography?

When Haley tried to conquer her fear of the ocean because she saw you once having fun with Leah swimming along the shore, was it casual?

Was it casual when you helped her conquer this fear even though you had plans for the day?

If she's second-guessing everything she ever thought was platonic and casual between the two of you, is this still casual?

They should have meant nothing but it's starting to feel like there is something.

****

The general store was quieter than usual that afternoon, with only a couple of customers browsing the shelves and the faint hum of Pierre’s old radio playing a static-filled tune in the background. Haley placed her basket of groceries on the counter with an air of casual confidence, her hair shimmering under the warm glow of the store's lights as if she had just stepped out of a magazine.

"There's my favorite blonde," Pierre greeted her with a grin, his tone far too cheerful to pass as entirely neutral. He adjusted his glasses as he began unpacking her items. "You got everything you need?"

Haley offered a small, polite smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I would appreciate it though if you restocked your peppermint coffee. Winter's coming soon, and I need my coffee to survive the whole season."

Pierre chuckled, nodding as he scribbled something on a notepad beside the register. "I'll keep note of that."

The rhythmic beep of the scanner broke the silence, but Pierre seemed to drag out the process, deliberately slow with each item. Haley tilted her head, pretending to examine the jars of preserves on a nearby shelf, though her curiosity flickered with each stolen glance Pierre gave her from behind the counter.

Her patience thinned as the seconds stretched on. She crossed her arms and finally turned back to him, narrowing her eyes. "What?" she asked, her voice sharp enough to slice through his act.

Pierre blinked, his hand pausing mid-air with a can of soup. "What, what?" he asked, his tone layered with faux innocence.

Haley raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting into one of exasperated suspicion. "Nothing. It's just... you looked like you wanted to say something."

Pierre hesitated, scratching the back of his neck as a sheepish grin spread across his face. "Has farmer Y/n told you who she gave the bouquet to?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Is this about the bet?"

"Sort of," Pierre admitted, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "Come on, I gave Gus five grand. I just know my daughter caught her eye. Why else would Y/n be here every other day just to give Abigail her weird collection of stones?"

Haley rolled her eyes so hard it felt like they might stay that way. "First off, it's none of your business. Secondly, even if I did know, I'm not about to spill it to the entire town."

Pierre's grin faltered slightly, but his persistence didn’t waver. "I get it." He sighed dramatically as he began to load her bag, though his eyes darted toward her with a flicker of mischief. "She gave it to you, didn’t she? I mean, it makes total sense."

Her irritation bubbled just beneath the surface as she prepared to unleash a sharp retort, each word she'd make sure colorful enough to crush Pierre's so-called pride.

Her fingers curled slightly around the edge of the counter, her nails digging into the wood as her lips parted to speak.

But then it happened—before she could form a single syllable, the distinct scent of freshly cut grass and minted soap filled her senses. Haley froze, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as warmth radiated from the figure now standing just behind her.

"Hey there, doll," your voice was soft, low, and entirely too close for her comfort—or rather, for her ability to maintain composure. Haley could feel the faint brush of your breath against her skin, and she clenched her jaw to stifle a gasp.

Pierre perked up, his eyes sparkling with newfound interest as he set the last of Haley’s items into her bag. "Well, speak of the devil," he quipped with a knowing smirk, crossing his arms. "The farmer of the hour. What brings you here, Y/n?"

"Oh, I'm just out to get Haley," you replied smoothly, your tone casual as if you weren’t practically pressed against Haley’s back. You leaned slightly to the side, catching her narrowed gaze as she turned her head just enough to glance at you. "Emily told me she'll be here."

Haley’s lips twitched, fighting to suppress the blush creeping up her cheeks. "Do you mind?" she asked through gritted teeth, her voice laced with a mix of exasperation and something she refused to name.

She instinctively took a step forward, creating a thin barrier of space between the two of you. The distance was barely anything, but it felt monumental to her frayed nerves. You noticed it, of course—you noticed everything, just as you’d noticed her avoiding you the past few days. She’d orchestrated this whole "not a date" movie outing at your farm a while back before she started this shindig of avoiding you, and yet here she was, cornered by her own choices. She knew you'd confront her eventually; she just hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

Damn you, Emily. Haley cursed internally. Her sister's meddling defies the bound of the universe.

"Oh! Out for a date, I see," Pierre chimed in, his tone laced with playful curiosity. His eyes darted between the two of you, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

Haley's pulse quickened, and she forced herself to remain calm. She looked at you, waiting—no, daring you to deny it. Say something, she thought. Deny it. Deflect. Anything.

Your eyebrows shot up, disappearing behind your bangs as you opened your mouth, undoubtedly preparing to clarify the situation. But before a single word could escape, the bell above the door jingled sharply, drawing all attention to the entrance.

Morris stepped inside, his smug face immediately souring the air. His presence was an unwelcome shadow, sharp and intrusive, like nails on a chalkboard.

Haley caught the subtle change in your demeanor, a storm cloud rolling across your features. You muttered a string of profanities under your breath, quiet enough that most wouldn't catch it. But Haley was close—too close—and every word hit her ears like a sharp note.

It startled her; you rarely, if ever, swore in her company.

The tension in your frame said everything she needed to know. Your clenched jaw, the way your hand flexed and then balled into a fist by your side, all screamed one thing: you loathed the man in front of you.

Haley felt her blood begin to boil, mirroring your intensity. You’d never told her exactly what had happened during your time with Joja, but the bitterness in your expression now, the way your muscles coiled like you were ready to fight, painted a vivid enough picture. That, and the sight of Morris’s condescending grin, was enough to make her want to deck the man herself.

"Miss Y/n!" Morris's oily voice filled the space, louder than necessary. "What a pleasant surprise! I finally got ahold of you." His gaze flicked briefly to Haley, dismissing her with barely a glance before returning to you. "When my employee Shane told me the new farmer who’d taken over the rundown farm was named Y/n, I didn’t think it was you at first."

Haley's fists clenched around her grocery bag. Her heart thudded with protective anger, but she said nothing, instead glancing at you from the corner of her eye. The slight twitch in your brow, the way your jaw tightened, and the stiffness in your stance spoke volumes. You were trying to keep calm, but Haley knew it was taking everything in you not to snap.

"Folks kept talking about a lovely farm you've got there," Morris continued, clearly not picking up on the warning signs. Or maybe he simply didn’t care. "Imagine my surprise when I found out you’d gone from our... employee of the month to a simple farmer in the middle of nowhere."

You took a deep breath through your nose, the air between you practically crackling with suppressed emotion. When you finally spoke, your voice was calm—too calm. The kind of calm that preceded a storm.

"Morris," you said curtly, your tone colder than Haley had ever heard it. "Piss off."

Haley's eyes widened slightly at your words. She'd never heard you speak like that before, not even when you were angry. There was venom in your tone, something raw and unfiltered.

"My, my... what foul words you have there, miss," Morris said, raising a hand to cover his mouth in mock disbelief, though his smirk betrayed his true intent. "Anyhow," he continued, his voice oozing false geniality, "I received a call from your mother stating that you had AWOL'ed from your job and left the city. This only spurred me to seek out the new farmer in town with the same name as you. It couldn’t have been a coincidence, right?"

Your jaw clenched, and your knuckles turned white as your nails dug into your palm. Haley could feel the tension radiating off of you like heat from a furnace. "Shut up," you hissed, your tone low but charged.

"But you were sleek," Morris went on, as if he hadn’t heard you—or more likely, chose to ignore you. "For months I tried to get a sight of you. It should have been easy, given how small this town is, but I never caught even a glimpse of you. Tell me, were you avoiding Joja on purpose?"

Haley's stomach churned as she watched you struggle to keep your composure. She'd never seen you like this—on edge, restrained, a storm barely contained behind your eyes.

"I don’t want anything to do with Joja," you spat, your voice trembling slightly, not with fear, but with the effort it took to hold yourself back. "And I don’t want anything to do with my mother. I left Joja for good, and I have no desire to take over that hell of a company."

"Joja needs its heir, Miss Y/n. No matter how far you run, Joja will always be one step behind you." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I’ve already informed your mother of your presence here in Pelican Town, and she is beyond displeased."

Haley saw your breath hitch, your shoulders stiffening as Morris’s words hit their mark.

"You’re wasting your time," you bit out, your voice quieter now, but no less fierce. "I’m not going back, and there’s nothing she—or Joja—can do to change that."

Morris chuckled, a low, condescending sound that made Haley’s skin crawl. His smirk widened, and he tilted his head in mock pity. "Oh, Miss Y/n, you underestimate Joja’s reach. This quaint little farm life of yours is nothing but a detour. We both know that."

Your fists clenched at your sides, trembling slightly, not out of weakness, but from the sheer force of holding yourself together. Your breath came out unsteady, the weight of his words pressing down like an iron vice.

"I don’t care," you spat, your voice cracking under the strain of bottled-up frustration. "I’ve spent blood, sweat, and tears on my grandpa’s farm—making it thrive, grow, and function all on its own. Every single effort I’ve made here has been worth something. Something the company never gave me."

Haley froze, her eyes darting to you. There was a rawness in your voice she wasn’t prepared for, an unguarded glimpse into a part of you she’d never seen.

"Even if I tried—even if I died trying—my mother would never be satisfied with my work," you continued, your voice rising with every word, trembling with pent-up anguish. "So how dare she? How dare she say she’s disappointed in me, like I’m supposed to care, when that’s the only thing she’s ever felt at the very sight of me?"

Morris let out a low hum, his fingers tapping idly against the counter. "Joja is all about hard work, Miss Y/n. Maybe she just hasn’t seen it on you?" His tone was measured, almost bored, but his words were like a needle aimed directly at the cracks in your armor.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh, the sound harsh and devoid of humor. Haley flinched at the sound, her heart clenching as she watched you unravel.

"Hard work?" you echoed, your voice dripping with venom. "Hard work means nothing to Joja. It doesn’t matter how much I gave, how much of myself I sacrificed, it was never enough. It was never going to be enough."

Morris raised an eyebrow, as if amused by your outburst. "Look," he said with an air of condescension, "the missus, as much as she is strict and calculated, is only doing this to ensure you’re capable of handling the company once she steps down as CEO. Surely, you must be aware of that?"

Haley could see the way your shoulders stiffened, your lips pressing into a tight line, and your chest rising and falling as you struggled to control your breathing. She knew that Morris’s words had struck a nerve, and her patience finally snapped when she saw the flicker of doubt in your eyes.

"She doesn’t care about me being capable," you said quietly, each word laced with bitterness. "She only cares about molding me into her image. Into something I’m not—and something I never want to be."

Haley stepped forward without hesitation, planting herself firmly between you and Morris, her eyes blazing with a fury that caught everyone off guard.

"Sorry to intrude," she began sharply, her tone like ice, "but have you even seen Y/n’s farm? That place was a dump before she came here, and now it’s practically a well-oiled machine. Her farm has boosted this town’s economy more than you and Pierre’s businesses combined. And you know why?" Haley tilted her head, her voice turning venomous. "Because of Y/n’s dedication and hard work. So don’t you dare stand there and act like you have the right to judge who’s ‘working hard’ when you couldn’t lift a finger to do it yourself."

Morris’s smug expression faltered for the first time, but he quickly recovered, his smirk widening as he saw an opportunity to strike back. "Ah, I see what’s going on here," he drawled, his tone dripping with condescension. "If you really want your fair share of Joja’s wealth, you should convince your girlfriend here to come back to Zuzu City and manage the company like the true Joja she is." His eyes gleamed maliciously. "Though I doubt the missus would approve of this... kind of relationship."

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. Stepping forward, you shoved Morris back a step, your voice low and dangerous. "Fuck off. You don’t get to disrespect her like that."

Morris’s smugness wavered, but he tried to rally. "But I—"

"I don’t want to hear another word from you," you snapped, your tone brooking no argument. "Leave. Now."

Morris opened his mouth to retort, but Haley cut him off, her glare sharper than a knife. "You heard her. Get lost."

Morris huffed, his composure cracking slightly. "Hmph. I’m not leaving until I distribute my 50%-off Joja coupons to these fine customers." He raised his voice, addressing the room. "Anyone who wants a discount, feel free to take one from me."

Before the murmurs could start, you turned sharply to Pierre. "No one moves a foot," you commanded, your voice firm and unyielding. "Pierre."

"H-huh?" Pierre stammered, clearly caught off guard.

"Everyone shopping here right now—everything in their carts, ring it up. Put it on my tab," you said decisively. "I don’t care how much it costs. I’ll stop by later to settle the bill."

Pierre blinked, stunned, before nodding quickly. "O-okay. Got it."

You turned back to Morris, your voice colder than ice. "No one here wants your fucking coupons. Get the hell out."

Morris narrowed his eyes, clearly frustrated but unable to retaliate effectively. "You can’t pay for their tabs forever, Miss Y/n," he sneered. "Not with the little money your farm is making."

A smirk tugged at your lips, sharp and defiant. "You haven’t seen the progress of my farm, have you?" you asked, your voice filled with quiet triumph. "Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you never do. By the end of the year, the community center will be fully restored, and Joja—" you jabbed a finger toward him, "Joja will never taint this town again."

Morris’s face darkened, but he said nothing as you turned to Pierre and motioned to the grocery bag you took from Haley. "Please ring this up as well, Pierre."

****

"Y/n... are you okay?" Haley's voice was soft, tentative, her usual sharpness dulled by concern.

You didn’t meet her eyes, your voice steady but distant. "I’ll walk you home, and then I’ll get going. I need to be alone for a while."

Haley hesitated, searching your face for something—anything—that would let her help. But all she found was a wall she couldn’t push past. "Oh... okay," she murmured.

****

The walk to her house was quiet, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. When you reached her door, Haley turned, her expression uncertain. "It’s only a raincheck, right?" she asked, her voice almost hopeful. "You’re not canceling our movie night?"

You gave her a small, tired smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Hmm. Maybe we can do it tomorrow instead."

Haley nodded slowly, watching as you turned to leave. "I’ll see you later, Y/n," she called softly, her voice lingering in the quiet night.

You didn’t look back, but you lifted a hand in acknowledgment before disappearing into the shadows. Haley watched you go, her chest tight with a mix of worry and something else she couldn’t quite name.

****

After you had dropped her off at her home, she moved quickly towards her kitchen, her movements deliberate as she retrieved a well-worn piece of paper. A single recipe sat tucked away for ages, something she hadn’t thought she’d use anytime soon. Yet, here she was, baking in autopilot, determined to bring you something that might make the silence a little more bearable.

It only sank in for Haley that you might have been serious about wanting to be alone for a moment when you opened the door to your farm after she knocked.

Well... No going back now.

"Hey..." she greeted hesitantly, her voice soft and uncertain. "I know you said you wanted to be alone, but I just... I thought it would be unfair that you're always there for me when I need you, and I left you alone just because you asked me to."

You didn’t speak immediately. The silence between you stretched, heavy with unspoken thoughts. For a moment, Haley worried she had crossed a line, overstepped some boundary. But before she could apologize, you offered her a faint, weak smile—a small curve of your lips, almost imperceptible, but a smile nonetheless.

"Are those cookies...?" you asked softly, your eyes landing on the tray she held out.

"Granny Evelyn's secret recipe. Freshly baked from the oven." Haley’s voice was gentle, almost a whisper. "Thought this might cheer you up."

You took a slow breath, the air between you carrying a quiet weight. You stood a step closer to Haley, your hands clasped loosely in front of you.

"I can just go and leave, you know? I just really want to bring these cookies—"

Before she could finish, you cut her off with a warm, comforting hug, wrapping your arms around her gently. Your embrace was steady, grounding, a silent reassurance. The scent of fresh soap mixed with the faint aroma of wood and grass on your worn flannel shirt created a sense of familiarity.

"Of course, you’re always welcome here, silly, with or without cookies," you said softly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes.

"You say that but wait until you have a taste in them first," she teased, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I'm sure they'll taste delicious. Come," you urged, motioning her inside. "It's freezing outside."

"Thanks," she murmured, stepping past you into the warmth of the house.

"These your stuff?" you asked, noticing the bags she struggled to carry. "You should have called me so I could have helped you bring them here. It must have been a tough walk from your home."

"Yeah... sorry, I know it's a lot. Had to bring my skincare, you know?" she replied with a sheepish smile, setting the bags down on the worn wooden floor.

"Heh, if I didn't know you any better, I’d think you were moving in," you joked, giving her a playful nudge.

"Shut up, goof."

"Now, now... I didn’t say I was exactly opposed to the idea, m'lady," you continued, a grin tugging at your lips. "I would love it actually. It’s getting kind of lonely in here, you know? Sometimes I even question myself why I asked Robin to renovate the house this big when I’m all by myself."

"What? So you're saying you wanted me to stay here?"

"Would it be so bad?" you asked with a playful shrug.

"Perhaps? Especially if you're supposed to be saying these sappy things to your girlfriend." Haley's tone was teasing, but her smile faltered slightly as she added, "Yoba... I just realized. Penny won't be mad if I stayed the night, right? Or would she?"

"Huh? Why would she?" you asked, confused.

"Isn't she—" Haley began as she walked towards your room.

"Wait, Haley—" you called after her, a hint of worry in your voice, but it was too late.

"Oh..." Haley paused at the sight that greeted her eyes—a bouquet placed carefully on your bed, sunflowers nestled in among them. You were arranging them yourself, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting a warm light on the delicate petals.

It took a moment for Haley to gather her thoughts. Her mind raced a thousand miles per hour, processing what she saw and the implications behind it.

"I thought you'd given Penny the—the uhm..." she began hesitantly.

"The bouquet?" you finished, your voice quiet. "What made you think so? And how'd you even know I have a bouquet?"

"I think what you mean is 'who else didn't know you'd bought a bouquet'," she replied, a sly smile creeping onto her face.

"Damn it, Pierre." You ran a hand through your hair, cursing under your breath. "Shit— you aren't supposed to see all these."

You sighed heavily as you walked toward the edge of the bed, keeping your gaze firmly away from her. The bouquet lay forgotten on the bedspread, the sunflowers blending with the faded, dried-out petals of the original flowers.

"I bought this days ago and I couldn't find the guts to give it to you. I guess I was waiting for the perfect timing or maybe I was chickening out. Shit, I don't really know..." you murmured, your voice shaky as you ruffled your hair anxiously. "All I know is the flowers dried out because I was a coward, and now I was planning to spend the whole night replacing the flowers with sunflowers instead of having our movie night because I'm mentally and emotionally unable to think straight because of what happened with Morris earlier, and now I'm babbling this to you like a fool and—"

"Breathe, Y/n." Haley’s voice was soft and soothing, her expression gentle as she stepped closer, her eyes warm and understanding. "It’s just me."

"Breathe... I can do that," you said, taking a slow breath and closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.

"Now..." Haley continued, a teasing smile playing at her lips, "Can you clarify the part about who you were planning to give the bouquet to because I’m a bit slow and I’m going to have to assume it’s me if you don’t."

"It's for you," you finally confessed, your voice barely a whisper. "I thought the sunflower already gave it away?"

"I..." Haley’s brows furrowed slightly, her voice softening as her expression turned thoughtful. "I thought you liked someone else..."

"And I thought I was pretty obvious," you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

"You probably would have if I hadn't seen you treating others the same way you do to me," Haley said, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression was thoughtful, but there was a hint of uncertainty behind her eyes. "I don't really want to assume."

"But I don’t treat others the same way I treat you," you replied gently, your voice calm and steady.

"Giving favored gifts to every possible living thing you can see, walking Penny home, exploring mines with Abigail, painting with Leah..." Haley paused, glaring at you with a raised brow when she noticed the corner of your mouth twitch into a sly grin. "Do you honestly want me to continue the list?"

"No, no need. I got the message," you said with a soft chuckle, shaking your head as you stepped closer to her. You reached out slowly, taking her hands in yours with a tenderness that spoke volumes. Your thumb brushed gently against her knuckles, grounding the moment in a sense of intimacy that neither of you could ignore. "I guess I do those things with everyone. It was almost a natural instinct that I didn't need to bat an eye. It was normal for me. It was casual."

As your touch lingered, Haley’s breath hitched for a moment, and the rapid beating in her heart began to slow. What was once chaotic and unsure began to calm down, her mind finding clarity amidst the confusion.

"But for you... everything is complex," you continued, your voice steady, eyes locked onto hers. There was a sincerity in your gaze, a vulnerability in your words that couldn’t be dismissed. "And I don’t mean it as a bad thing. You made me second-guess everything I do. I was afraid I was being too obvious because I was doing too much. I was afraid that what I was doing bypassed everything I thought should be normal between friends. I was scared I was doing too much that I might scare you away."

Haley let out a soft, watery laugh, a quiet chuckle that broke through the tension between you both. She shook her head lightly, realizing you were both overthinking the same thing all along.

"So yeah... everything I did, everything I said from the start—it was never casual," you finished, your voice gentle but unwavering. "Simply because I like you, Haley. I’ve liked you for a long time."

There was a long, charged pause. It probably felt like an eternity to you, but it could’ve only been a minute or two—maybe more. You weren’t sure anymore. If the roles were reversed, if Haley were in your place, she would’ve bolted in embarrassment, rushing back to her home to cry her heart out the moment you didn’t respond to her confession.

But this is you. You have always been patient. You still wore the same loving face the moment you started your confession and the moment you let out the last word. Nevermind your face is in a deep shade of red.

"You..." she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper before rising drastically. "You fucking idiot!"

"Huh?" you managed, taken aback by the sudden outburst.

Before you could process what was happening, her fists slammed hard against your chest. The force wasn’t enough to cause real pain, but the impact was enough to send a slight jolt through you. You wheezed softly between bursts of laughter, breath escaping in short bursts as she continued her assault.

"You liked me all this time and you didn’t say it earlier?!" she demanded, her voice rising with each word.

You let out another laugh, struggling for air as her fists smacked your chest again. At this point, it wasn’t about the physical impact—it was the sheer force of emotion behind it.

You must have had enough with Haley's fists dealing little to no damage on your ribcage because the moment she lifted her hands to strike again, you caught them gently in yours and leaned down to capture her lips, silencing the stream of profanities leaving her mouth.

When your lips finally parted, a brief, lingering pause stretched between you both, the air thick with emotions you both hadn't fully acknowledged yet.

"You could have said you liked me, y'know? No need to hit me." You said softly, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you pulled back.

"I hate you," she grumbled, her expression softening despite the harsh words. Her gaze lowered, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks as the embarrassment of her outburst settled in.

"You don’t." You sounded far too smug, watching her squirm just a bit. "Emily said so."

Haley’s brow furrowed deeply as the realization dawned. Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes narrowed in disbelief. She thought back to that conversation, recalling her sister’s confident assurance. "You know about the bet all this time?!"

"Yup." Your grin widened.

She stared at you, her expression a mix of incredulity and irritation. "You asked my sister if you have a chance with me, didn’t you?"

You smirked but remained silent, letting the unspoken answer hang in the air.

"Good Yoba… Why did I have to like such an idiot dork." She huffed, puffing out a breath as her frustration began to give way to amusement. Her lips twitched into a small smile despite herself. "Come here and let me wipe that stupid smirk from your face."

"You'll do that by?"

Her eyes rolled again, but the playful edge remained as she replied with a small, amused grin. "By kissing it off you, what else?"

~~~~~~

taglist:

@joordynn

@taliiiaasteria

@iluvwomen01

@tekanparadiae

@slug-on-bike

@prlan

@mit-suri

#stardew valley #stardew haley #stardew farmer #stardew fanfic #haley x farmer #haley x female farmer #haley x reader #stardew emily #kissitoffme

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actuallysaiyan · 1 year ago

Text

Make Me Feel Love(Kenpachi Zaraki x Fem!Reader)

warnings: unprotected sex, showers, oral sex(fem receiving), rough sex, lots of love and intimacy, Yachiru shows up at the end but she is none the wiser pairings: Kenpachi Zaraki x Fem!Reader word count: 1.3k

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @misty-angerose @seireiteihellbutterfly @yeowangies @felixmr

dividers by: @/benkeibear <3

You wait with bated breath. Every single time he leaves for something serious, you always worry that your lover won’t return to you. You know that’s a stupid way to think about it. He’s strong, stronger than anyone else you’ve seen fight.

It’s late in the evening when he comes home. Yachiru has been in bed for a few hours now, despite her insistence to stay awake for when “Ken-chan” comes home. You tucked her in after reassuring her that Kenpachi would return safe and sound. Even though you were worried, there was no sense worrying the young girl.

He comes in, looking disheveled. But when he sees you, he cracks a smile. You rush over to him, wrapping your arms around his large frame. He kisses you all over your face, which surprises you. You know he’s probably just trying to make up for being gone so long.

“I missed you so much,” you breathe. You don’t trust yourself not to break down and cry.

“Missed you too, honey.”

He picks you up in his arms, bringing you into your shared bedroom. He inquires about Yachiru, and you two peek into her bedroom. She’s sound asleep. This makes your heart swell with so much love.

Then he brings you into the bathroom. He sets you down on the counter as he gets the shower started. You’ve seen this man undress so many times, yet you still can’t help gawk at the gorgeous man in front of you. He smirks when he catches you looking at him.

Kenpachi makes his way over to you, kissing you fiercely. His tongue shoves into your mouth, making you moan. You’ll never get tired of tasting him. The scent of him, steel and sweat and musk, fills your senses. You hold onto him as his tongue wrestles with yours.

“I can tell you missed me,” He groans as he pulls away.

His hands begin undressing you as quickly as he can. Even though he said he could tell you missed him, you feel as though he’s the one who’s more desperate and needy. He throws your clothes to the ground, and he spreads your thighs.

“I need you,” he growls softly before capturing your lips with his.

Kenpachi carries you into the shower. The hot water cascades over the both of you. You moan softly as the water works its magic on your sore muscles. Then you take his favorite shampoo and begin to wash his hair. You love being able to do sweet and domestic things like this with him.

Kenpachi groans as you work out any knots in his hair. Then you begin to condition it too. Meanwhile, Kenpachi begins to soap you up. He smirks and chuckles as he suds up your tits. You try to chastise him for being so perverted, but you’re so turned on.

“I really missed you. I got so scared…”

Kenpachi laughs, “Woman, haven’t I told you not to worry?”

He then kisses you once more. He’s got you backed up against the shower wall. When he looks into your eyes, you can see the lust and desire that dwells inside of him.

“I love you,” you whisper quietly.

“Love you too,”

It’s not long before you’re both properly cleaned. He turns off the water and hands you a fluffy towel. Kenpachi leads you into the bedroom the minute he deems you dried off enough.

On the bed, he crawls on top of you. His kisses are hungry and rough. But the minute you begin to caress him softly, he slows himself down. He spreads your legs and begins to kiss down your body. His eyes look up at you, gauging to make sure you’re still comfortable.

You let out a small gasp when his warm breath hits your folds. He chuckles before pressing teasing kisses to your inner thighs. Your breath hitches in your throat when his warm tongue presses against your folds.

“Mmm…fuck, I missed your pussy.”

You tug at his hair, pulling him a little closer as he slurps and sucks on your clit. The way he treats you when he’s in this mood makes you go a little cross-eyed and shaky with pleasure. Your breath comes out in heavy pants as you feel a fire burning deep in your tummy.

Kenpachi’s eyes are locked onto yours as he laps at you like a man who’s just found his own oasis in the dry desert. The sounds coming from him are so obscene and lewd. Slurping and sucking and licking; so sexual and prove to be almost too much as your orgasm hits you hard.

Your thighs clench around his face, but he doesn’t let up. He continues to suckle and lick you til you’re pushing him away from overstimulation. He then allows his hefty cock to glide through your folds as he positions himself between your thighs on his knees.

“Is this what you wanted? Or is it what you needed?” He uses the tip to tap against your clit.

You whine and beg for him to fuck you, but he wants this to last. He wants this to be slow. He guides the tip to your hole, pushing in slowly. Kenpachi smirks as he watches you get cockdrunk on almost nothing. Your little walls begin to grip onto him, making him grunt. Eventually, he’s all the way in with his balls plush against your ass.

“Is that good for you, little love?” Kenpachi whispers in your ear as he leans in close.

You moan his name. “Y-yes…”

He chuckles again before kissing you passionately. His hips move slowly, intimately. Kenpachi knows you’re craving deep, slow thrusts. He knows when your jaw hangs open and a slew of blabbering comes out of those pretty lips of yours.

He kisses your neck as he continues to rock his hips so slowly. With every thrust, you feel his thick cock dragging against your walls. Every thrust has him all the way in deep, his balls against your ass. Every thrust is a testament to how much he missed you and how much you love each other.

Your hands tangle in his hair as he leans back in to kiss you. It’s filled with passion and love. His hips continue to thrust, but they begin to pick up just a little more speed. He grins as he looks at you, making sure you’re okay with the change of pace.

“Let me show you just how much I missed you,”

Kenpachi’s large hands push your knees to your chest as he begins to pump into you harder, deeper and faster. He snaps his hips like a wild beast trying to breed. Kenpachi growls and grunts as his pleasure is twisting in his gut.

“Fuck, I should just…” he can’t even finish his sentence before his grunting. “I should just—oh fuck you feel amazing.”

His hips stutter a few times, but he manages to edge himself. He leans down to spit on your clit, rubbing it with his calloused thumb. Your eyes roll back once more, your toes curling as the pleasure is coursing through your body. He thrusts deeper, harder, faster still and makes you cry out for him.

Your hips buck up to meet his own thrust, sending you right over the edge. A cry of his name escapes your lips, and Kenpachi has to kiss you to quiet you down. He pumps into you deeper, the headboard slamming into the wall. He knows he might wake Yachiru, but he’s hoping she’ll sleep soundly.

With a guttural groan, Kenpachi spills his seed so deep inside of you. He’s grunting against your lips, fucking his cum into you. Slowly, he comes down from his high along with you and he slumps against your breasts.

“Woman, you’re gonna be the death of me…”

You laugh softly, pulling the sheets over you. Just in time, because Yachiru is at the door, looking awfully sleepy. You blush and try to hide your embarrassment. She doesn’t seem to truly notice what’s going on. She jumps on the bed, snuggling against you and Kenpachi.

“Poor little girl,” Kenpachi comments, brushing some hair out of her face.

You smile. “She missed you.”

He kisses you deeply. “I missed my family.”

All three of you snuggle together in the big bed, drifting off to sleep.

#bacon.writes #kenpachi x reader #kenpachi x y/n #kenpachi x you #kenpachi zaraki #kenpachi zaraki x reader #bleach #bleach x reader #bleach kenpachi #bleach kenpachi x reader

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waldau · 1 year ago

Note

hii! I've noticed that you haven't written anything for minghao yet (according to your master list) so I wanted to request something cozy and homey with him. like maybe cooking together or waking up together or something along those lines.. :)

hello anon! i was feeling extra sappy with minghao and this also happens to be my first work for him. thank you so much for requesting it, i hope you see this!

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

muse — xu minghao | 1,382 words | fluff

minghao blinks his eyes open to the sound of silence. there’s not much he can hear right out, except for the distant sound of cars going past. he lazes around for a few more moments before giving in and checking the time on his phone.

it’s just shy of six in the morning. he needs to be up and at the studio by nine, but he doesn’t feel like moving just yet. he puts his phone away and turns around to you, to watch you sleep.

the first time he’d ever done it was unfortunately a time you weren’t actually asleep, and he’d ended up staring at you for ten minutes before you woke up and apologized to him, saying that you couldn’t pretend to stay asleep without wanting to burst into laughter.

he still remembers how embarrassed he’d been by that, and how you made it up to him with kisses and multiples reassurances that it had been okay, that he could do it again, that it wasn’t a problem at all, you’d just been caught off-guard the very first time.

the thing is — minghao adores you. he’s in awe of you. to him, no one else on this planet even compares to how exquisite you are. he loves how like-minded the two of you are, how affectionate you’re with him, and how much you support him without even saying any words. of course, he loves going out on dates with you, seeing new places with you, seeing you match the outfits he wears, but this might just be his favourite sight in the world.

this being seeing you asleep on your side, facing him, a hand tucked under your head and the other holding his own. as an artist, he’s used to noticing the finer details about everything he sees, so when it comes to you, he could lose himself for hours noticing every single thing about you that makes him love you more.

minghao gently untangles his hand from your grasp, drawing his own blanket over you properly so that you don’t feel cold. he immediately feels the cold winter air hit his bare arms, and he winces as he gets used to it. he’s going to need to workout before he leaves, because there’s no time for it in the evening. not if he wants to finish work fast enough to come back to have dinner with you.

his fingers itch for a brush. it’s been a while since he’s painted something. the last thing he’d put on his canvas had been a rendition of a sunrise he’d been able to see with you a few weeks ago. it had been magical; the beautiful hues of orange and yellow blending with the shimmering brightness of the sea, contrasting the pale hue of the sky.

but nothing looked more beautiful than you sitting next to him, watching the sun rise and letting the water wash over your legs. he’d been tempted to paint you instead, right there, but you’d dragged him out on a monday morning for inspiration, despite the fact that both of you had work soon, and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

but he doesn’t really need inspiration. not when you’re his muse.

he runs his fingers across your face as gently as he can, glad that you’re still asleep. you’ve been having trouble sleeping recently, and he’s glad he’s part of why you’ve been sleeping better. he smiles when he notices two faint pillow creases stamped into your cheek, angry red lines that he hopes don’t hurt you at all. you somehow manage to look even more perfect with them.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at you before your eyes blink open slowly, and somehow his eyes are the first thing that yours find. he holds his breath, waiting for you to speak.

“hao?” you ask, voice croaky. “what time is it?”

minghao checks his phone again. “six thirty-seven. you still have twenty three more minutes to sleep, if you want.”

“mm,” you say, before you roll in closer and pull his arm to yourself. “wake me up at seven, then.” before he can say anything, you look up at him. “aren’t you supposed to leave early today?”

he nods. “do you want me to leave?”

you huff and tug at his arm to pull him closer to yourself, and he goes down willingly. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

“what did you mean, then?” he asks, pinching your nose softly.

you’re used to his teasing by now, so you just roll your eyes throw an arm around his waist. “did you sleep well, hao?”

“really well. you?”

“me too. but…how long were you staring at me this time?”

he feigns shock. “you could tell?”

“i can just…feel it, somehow,” you giggle. “won’t you tell me?”

“do you really want me to?”

“of course,” you say, eyes shining despite the layer of sleep clinging to them. minghao wishes he could spend more time with you like this. it’s almost like you’re forcing yourself to stay awake despite having some more time to sleep, just to talk to him. the thought warms his chest.

“maybe forty minutes? maybe more.”

there’s a grin on your face. “correct me if i’m wrong, but…i think you love me?”

he could just refute it, tease you a little, joke that you’re in too deep, but he can’t. there’s something about the early hours of the morning combined with the fact that he has the honour to wake up with you that makes his heart heavy. he’s lucky to even have this, especially with you.

“you’re right,” he says, voice rough, feeling his waterline sting suddenly. “i love you.”

the grin on your face disappears slowly. “hao? is everything okay?”

“of course it is, darling,” he says, bending down to kiss your forehead, brushing off some rogue strands of hair to kiss it properly, tucking it behind your ear so he can see your beautiful face better. “i love you. is that wrong?”

“no, silly,” you say, leaning up to cup his cheek in your palm. your hand is cold. maybe he should’ve warmed you up better. “you sound…sad. like there’s something eating at you.”

he closes his eyes and indulges himself in your touch, trying to work out his words, marvelling at how easily you can read him. “i…love you. you know that, right?”

“yeah. i love you, too. but…?”

“but,” he sighs, “i just…don’t have the right words to tell you how much i love you. i could say i love you a thousand times, but it wouldn’t be enough. i could kiss you a thousand times and it wouldn’t be enough. i could…i could ask you to marry me but nothing would be enough to tell you how thankful i am that you’re here with me. that you’re mine.”

silence, just the two of you in your bedroom, the sounds of life filtering in from outside the window.

your breath is shaky when you speak. “hao.” you drop your hand down to his arm. “i love you, too. you don’t…i don’t need any grand gestures from you. just…be with me. every single day. be mine forever. that’s it.”

“there’s nowhere else i want to be.”

“then that’s all i need.”

minghao presses a kiss to your head. he hopes it conveys everything he’s feeling right now. he’s about to say something more when your alarm goes off, and he really should get going if he doesn’t want to reach work late.

“see you in the evening?” you ask, hand catching his as he attempts to get to his feet. “maybe we can talk about…getting married? for real?”

minghao hasn’t even opened the curtains yet, and he feels like he’s standing in front of the sun again. he’s going to go to work, do well, come back home to you and hold you and hear about your day and eat with you. he’s going to surprise you with a painting of yourself, and he’s going to marry you. that’s the life he’s built for himself with you, and he loves it.

it’s all he needs to keep going, every single day.

“i can’t wait. i’ll be back before you know it, darling.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

#idk i tried writing #xu minghao #xu minghao fluff #minghao fluff #minghao #fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #waldau writes #req

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nastylittleghouls · 1 year ago

Note

M! Would you tell us about Aether wearing these around the Abbey?

First of all, Jim, I appreciate you so much 💜 Second of all, we all know Aether's magnificent behind would see a lot of action when he wears those pants around the Abbey. From Siblings and Ghouls and Papa's alike. Most of all from Copia. We know just how much he loves Aether's ass. And Aether? He'd use it as a response and invitation for almost everything and at the end of the day he'd be filthy and sore in so many ways.

So I scribbled a lil thing. 5+1 moments where Aether got his "patch(es) kissed". There's mildly spicy entertainment under the cut. No Papa's included this time (they might get their own someday) and no refunds of your time if it actually isn't entertaining and my brain fog suffering med addled self was lying to me.

CW: Implied consensual free use, somnophilia. Unbeta'ed.

Divider by @wrathofrats - AO3 for the so inclined

Booty calls (He sure hopes it does)

It‘s cathartic. Being alone and singing his heart out, that is. Letting himself sink into someone else's happiness without having personal ties to them. It’s something he needs more than he cares to admit. To himself and even less to the pack. He thrives on being social and being connected so deeply, don‘t get him wrong, but it‘s draining. Feeling other beings alongside his own all the time. The many unfortunate souls that seek shelter here. Chewed up and spit out by a society that produces loneliness en masse. Crushed souls and shattered minds hopeful for a new beginning and….

He sings even louder, over the dark cloud threatening to form in his mind, and shimmies with a pile of clothes in his arms through the room. His tail swishing and bopping, used as a makeshift microphone when he gets carried away by the vibes.

He bends over to stuff the washing machine full, ass still wriggling to the tune on the radio, when a pair of hands still his swaying hips and warm lips burn right through the layers of fabric, pulling a startled chuckle out of Aether. First on the patch, following its invitation to kiss it, then right on the seam between his cheeks. Further down on the banana, followed by a bite that has his breath hitching in anticipation. He knows what the sight of him doing so mundane, so humanly domestic things like laundry does to Dewdrop.

He feels the same when Dewdrop is in his element, showing his magic in the kitchen. A natural in combining flavors and textures and bringing Aether to his knees for a taste.

„It says kiss it not eat me alive“

He feels, more than he hears, Dewdrop's low laugh when the water pump signals the starting washing cycle. The old thing’s too loud when it gets going but the vibrations do wonderful things to him, as Dewdrop hooks his fingers into and drags the waistband down to bare Aether to his hungry gaze.

„Let me kiss it properly then“ is all he hears before Dewdrop spreads his cheeks and seals his lips over his hole, making out with it until Aether’s knees buckle and he has to grip the edge of the machine to keep himself upright.

Aether doesn‘t get around to folding the dry laundry waiting for him.

After breakfast, Aurora and Sunshine make it a game to follow him around making loud obnoxious kissing noises when he turns his back to them. Aether pretends to ignore them until, in one careless second, they get too close and he gets his hands on them. He contemplates just sitting on them until they cry for mercy but decides to dump them unceremoniously into the lake and let the water ghoul conference deal with those brats.

Around midday, he helps Ivy maintain his namesake on the Ghoul Wing walls. He’s standing on a stepstool, sweating as the sun beats down on him, gently removing some stray vines from the wooden window frames and hooking them into the growth support on the walls. It’s necessary work, otherwise they’ll infiltrate the whole building. A gaggle of siblings has been hiding behind the columns for a while now, dissolving into helpless giggles every time he looks over at them, talking to each other in hushed, excited voices.

„I can‘t just go up to him and….“

Aether can practically hear the wild hand gesturing.

„it‘s obviously an invitation!“

“But…”

“What what in the B…”

Someone snickers. A smacking sound follows.

“He’s so big, just imagine….”

He laughs to himself at that, amused. He can smell the faint arousal mixed with a dash of fear. Can feel it in the aura surrounding them. Some of them are new and haven’t had the time to experience what a ghoul can and would do to them. Just dared to let their minds wander. Most of them think the masks are infused with a containment spell, making them harmless servants of the church. And, in Aether’s opinion, that’s half of the fun of the whole cat-and-mouse game.

One sibling, clearly more shy than the others from what he’s observed today, finally breaks away from the group and leaves their hideout behind the stones. They walk straight, seemingly confident. A closer look reveals that their hands are shaking and that the fine line their lips are forming doesn’t stem from determination.

They stop behind him, eyes firmly trained on the patch on his ass. A minute ticks by and just in time, he turns his head to see them raise their hand to their mouth. An exaggerated smooching sound follows and two fingertips press firmly against the patch. Aether wriggles his ass a little and cheers erupt behind him.

They finally look up at him and he sends a wink their way.

“I appreciate someone that can follow instructions like that”

They smile in response before their eyes widen in realization and they almost fall over their own feet to run back to their friends.

Yet, they linger. When Ivy makes him take a break it‘s the patch stuffed into their mouth, muffling the pleasured chants of his name.

During a nap on the couch in the common room, it‘s Swiss that follows his patch‘s invitation. Lips firm, nose pressed so far into the swell of his butt that Aether could swear he can feel his teeth. Swiss does it once, twice. A third time. Aether smiles sleepily, about to comment if it wasn’t on for the fourth, where Swiss just keeps his face buried there and starts snoring. He ruffles the other Ghoul's hair affectionately before he closes his eyes and follows Swiss back into dreamland.

He wakes to Swiss’ sliding the hard ridge of his cock against the letters on his ass, forcing Aether‘s hips into the couch over and over until they both come.

„Messy kisses are the best“ Swiss smirks as he watches his cum seep in.

5. In the evening, Aether goes to fetch some firewood from behind the greenhouse.

Mountain steps in front of him when he’s about to leave.

„Road toll. You shall not pass without paying up“

The look on Mountain‘s face is almost unbearably cheesy and Aether can‘t help but play along.

„And what, dear sir, can I offer you to let me through?“

Now, Mountain's eyes start to glint mischievously and he takes the wood from Aether, dropping it unceremoniously on the ground next to them. Then he steps closer and draws Aether up against himself with a firm grip on his ass, fingers digging deep into the patch on the inside of Aether’s thigh. It forces the Quint onto his tiptoes.

“I have a craving for banana and cream”.

When Aether faceplants into his nest after his shift in the infirmary the next morning, only clad in boxer shorts, it doesn’t take long for Dewdrop to crawl between his legs and drop another kiss onto his ass where the patch had been sitting for too long in his opinion; giving Aether’s body freely away. It feels like a nod to the events in the laundry room yesterday when he was sending him off as he’s now welcomed back.

“I missed you, starlight” The words come sometime in between bouts of scenting him. In a narrow time frame when he pauses and starts anew. More of a breath than a sentence.

“Missed you too, firefly”

Aether says and sinks into the feeling, lets the emotions that well up thrum through their bond, and accepts Dew’s in return. It’s easy when it’s him. A being so deeply interwoven with his own for so long. A part of him wishes it would never end, the other wishes Dew would let him roll over and reciprocate sooner than later.

Finally, after giving himself a moment to playfully nip into Aether’s thighs where Mountain left his mark earlier, he nuzzles and kisses his way up Aether‘s back. Aether inhales - sharply - then exhales - slowly - with a laugh and reaches behind him blindly to tangle his fingers in Dew’s hair, craving more contact.

“Easy, easy. I’m here. All yours again”

Dew settles around him like warm summer rain. Calming, warm. The need to reclaim swinging along like an afterthought.

“Want to mark you inside. Let me?”

It’s a demand, packaged in a whispered question, to a star who would never say no to being consumed by fire.

#Aether Ghoul #Swiss Ghoul #Dewdrop Ghoul #Mountain Ghoul #Sunshine Ghoulette #Aurora Ghoulette #nameless Ghouls #nameless ghoulettes #ghost ghouls #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #Mighty Feathers #jimothybarnes #Aether/Dewdrop #Aether/Swiss #Aether/Mountain

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thehypnone · 8 months ago

Text

Symbol on the Surface Chapter 12

WC: 2k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transmasc Swiss, Pregnancy, Bath, Fluff, Baby Shower

Swiss' belly is properly swollen now and his breasts are matching in growth—he looks…unmistakably pregnant. Mountain is enamored, and he thinks he’s somehow falling in love with his mate all over again.

Notes: Tysm to @jimothybarnes for beta reading :3

Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 12 under the cut or on AO3.

Neither Swiss nor Mountain sleep well.

It’s hard for them to rid their minds of all the worries and ‘what if’s, and when they eventually do fall asleep, the morning comes around. Their packmates have to get up one by one and bustle about, inevitably waking the expecting parents.

They don’t mind, of course; they simply move to their bedroom after thanking their family once more for their support.

“I feel like shit,” Swiss grumbles, rubbing his eyes with one hand and holding his bump with the other.

Mountain hums in acknowledgement and agreement. He’s also exhausted, for so many reasons—the weather is getting colder and colder, and it’s taking a toll on him as every year—but it feels wrong to admit that to Swiss. He’s the one growing their children, after all. “Back to bed or a shower, first? Or a bath?”

“Only if you get in with me,” the multi ghoul winks at him. Despite everything, he winks and musters up a tiny smile.

Mountain is so in love with him.

He tells him as much before they turn to the bathroom and the earth ghoul gets to drawing the bath. He gets distracted, though, when Swiss begins undressing.

His belly is properly swollen now and his breasts are matching in growth—the multi ghoul looks…unmistakably pregnant.

His happy trail creeps over the curve of the bump, following the taught pull of the skin. There’s no stretch marks just yet, but Mountain already knows he will do nothing but worship them when they inevitably do appear. He thinks it’ll be soon.

The earth ghoul is enamored, and he thinks he’s somehow falling in love with his mate all over again.

Swiss notices his staring, of course, and gets a little shy; he folds his arms across his chest and lowers his head. “What are you gawking at, big boy?”

“You,” Mountain replies intelligently, with a kind smile. “You have never looked more beautiful, my heart.”

It makes the multi ghoul’s cheeks go red and hot as he tries to hide some more, to get away from Mountain’s watchful eyes.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. The earth ghoul does; instead, he gets up from the edge of the bathtub and comes up to give Swiss a kiss. He gently grabs his chin to tilt his head up before leaning down to press their lips together.

Swiss melts into it and when they pull away he glues himself to his mate’s chest. He’d love to simply stand there like this forever, but the water level in the bath becomes dangerously high soon enough.

They both get in—Swiss lays with his back to Mountain’s chest. The earth ghoul wraps his arms around him and rests them on his stomach and they both relax. They stay in the bath for quite a while, making good use of Swiss’ fire magic.

It’s him who eventually decides he needs a nap and would rather take it in their nest, though. Mountain agrees and gently washes his mate with a bubbly soap before stepping out of the tub and then lifting him out, too. The earth ghoul carries Swiss to their nest and tucks him in, making him purr as he snuggles into all the bedding.

“I love you,” Swiss sighs, closing his eyes.

“I love you, too,” Mountain whispers back, leaning down to place a kiss on his mate’s forehead, “so much.”

Swiss lets out a happy chirp and the earth ghoul leaves him be. He has some things to take care of around their room, but he knows Swiss won’t mind some background noise. He’ll appreciate it, even.

The pregnant ghoul gets his nap and Mountain makes good use of the meantime. At some point, around an hour and a half later, there’s a light knock on the door. It makes Mountain let out a faint growl before he sniffs the air and recognizes the knocker as pack. He opens the door.

“Hey, I wanted to check in on you,” Cirrus says—respectfully staying outside. “How’s it going? Do you need anything?”

“Swiss is sleeping now,” Mountain whispers. “He’s tired and a…well, an emotional wreck—and so am I—but we’ll be okay. Thank you.”

“Alright,” the air ghoulette nods, but her brows are furrowed. “If you need anything give me a call, but–are you sure you are okay?”

“Yeah, you know, it’s just–winter and then all that happened…” Mountain sighs. He runs a hand down his face and looks over at the sleeping form of his mate before turning back to Cirrus. “I’m not a good mate, I panicked, and–”

“Hold that thought,” the air ghoulette stops him sternly, “did you totally freak out and freeze?”

“No, of course not. I had to get Swiss to the infirmary and I did.”

“So you took proper care of him. No?” Cirrus smirks.

“Well, when you put it like that…” Mountain chuckles. She does have a point—he’s lost this battle.

“You did. You did, because that’s what you always do.” The other reaches out—albeit carefully—to pat him on the arm. “You’re an incredible mate and are going to be just as great of a father to your kits.”

The earth ghoul smiles and nods. He needed to hear that again.

“Thank you,” he sighs. “I’m just–you know, this pregnancy itself is taking a toll on him, and now this…I just want him safe and comfortable. It’s all I want.”

“I know. And he knows it, too,” Cirrus assures before winking at him and turning to leave. Mountain quietly shuts the door behind her and looks over the room—it seems like he’s finished all there was to do, so he crawls into the nest beside Swiss.

He’s actually been awake for a few minutes—and eavesdropping just a little—but he keeps pretending otherwise. He wiggles to get closer to his mate and puts his head on his thigh when he does.

Mountain laughs quietly and puts a hand on Swiss’ head to scratch at his scalp, making him purr even louder.

It’s so warm and comfortable and…peaceful.

A couple hours later the ghoulettes are charged with delivering Swiss and Mountain dinner. It could’ve been just one of them, but for some reason it’s all four; and they’re all giggling, so they have clearly been scheming.

“Alright, what is it?” Mountain chuckles, folding his arms over his chest. “Spill.”

“Did you plan to have a baby shower?” Cumulus asks.

“A baby…what?”

“A baby shower! Humans do that, it’s a little baby-themed party for gift giving, and stuff,” Sunshine explains.

Aurora perks up, too, “They’re so cute, no way you’ve never heard of them!”

“Oh, uh, well–it does sound cute,” Swiss admits, “but I don’t know how–”

“We could arrange it for you!” the youngest ghoulette offers.

“Yeah, we’d love to!” Cirrus seconds. Swiss and Mountain look at each other and shrug; they don’t see why not. They agree and the girls leave, all jumping up and down excitedly.

It’s certainly going to be interesting.

A week after that terrible scare, Mountain and Swiss are being dragged to the common room to, technically, their own party. Or rather their kits’ baby shower.

They get settled on a decorated loveseat and…well, showered in gifts. Maybe that’s where the name comes from.

“This one’s for you,” Aether nods towards Swiss as he hands him a sizable package. The multi ghoul grins and, together with Mountain, they open it. It’s not obvious what it is, at first, as it’s packed air-tight and…strange looking. Aether goes to explain, “It’s a pregnancy pillow. It’ll grow when you open it. You’re gonna be in bed a lot and it should make it much more comfortable for you.”

“Woah…” Swiss’ eyes brighten. Indeed, laying down and sleeping hasn’t been the most comfortable lately. His bump has gotten quite big and his back and hips are killing him. “Thank you! I can’t wait to try it out.”

Aether winks and goes back to his spot besides Dewdrop. The fire ghoul’s gift is next—he passes it over to Mountain.

At first he and Swiss think it’s three simple plushies, but Dewdrop shakes his head. “They’re heavy-ish because they have rice pouches inside. Aether helped me enchant them, so when your kits will be cold the plushies will get warm and if they’re hot, they’ll cool them down. I hope it’s alright…”

Swiss and Mountain stare at the fire ghoul with their mouth agape. The rest of the ghouls giggle to themselves and Dewdrop…totally does not understand what the big deal is.

“What…? Do you hate it?” he asks quietly, starting to doubt himself.

“No!” Swiss all but yells. He hopes Dewdrop can’t see how he teared up from across the room. “They’re amazing, Dew, that’s so thoughtful…”

“Thank you,” Mountain finishes for him. The fire ghoul lets out a quiet ‘oh…okay, I’m glad’ and blushes a little before leaning against Aether to cuddle up to him; and hide some.

Cumulus coughs and gets out her gift for the expecting parents to get the attention off Dewdrop. Everyone knows he doesn’t do well in such situations.

“This one is for the kits,” she says and lets Mountain and Swiss peek into the gift bag.

“Is that…what I think it is?” the multi ghoul asks with his smile widening in real time.

His mate takes the items out and presents them.

“It is!” Swiss cheers. “This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Cumulus laughs—proud of herself. She promised to make the kits some clothes and she doesn’t make empty promises. Mountain takes out three onesies one by one and hands them to Swiss who can’t get over the sheer cuteness of them. His teeth might just rot when he gets to see his babies in them—three little fluffy bunnies.

“This is only the first set,” Cumulus winks, “they’re going to be the best dressed kits in history.”

The whole pack laughs; nobody doubts it.

It goes for a little while longer, every single ghoul giving something. Even Papa, Omega and a couple of the older ghouls and even clergy members took part. Then it’s time for some snacks; Rain and Aurora baked and decorated some baby-themed cookies for everyone to share.

Apparently, human baby showers are sometimes also gender reveal parties, but Swiss and Mountain decided against it. First and foremost they asked Omega not to tell them their babies’ genders are and they want to keep it that way. They will find out when the kits are born and there’s still a chance they’ll turn out to feel differently.

Swiss and Mountain will, of course, love them all no matter the outcome.

The party is amazing, but it tires the pregnant ghoul, so he and his mate go back to their bedroom. Mountain stops them before they enter, though.

“I’ve also got a gift,” he reveals. “I made something for the kits. I think you’ll like it.”

Swiss smiles up at him gently and nods. The earth ghoul opens the door and guides him in; he spots the present right away.

“Mounty…” he gasps, moving closer to it, “this is beautiful.”

It’s a big crib, more than enough for three babies. It’s clearly been made with Mountain’s powers; it’s a big tangle of vines and branches. It is beautiful.

“They won’t be sleeping in there for a while,” the earth ghoul says, “but I thought that when they do, they should be together. And if that’s a bad idea it can be divided into three sections.”

Swiss runs a hand over the side of the crib, wanting to take in every detail that Mountain has very clearly paid a lot of attention to.

“Do you like it?” he asks. Swiss turns with his smile bright and his eyes wet.

“I love it,” the multi ghoul chuckles. “I can’t wait to see them in it. I can’t wait to–to meet them.”

Mountain smiles and comes closer to bring Swiss in for a hug.

“Two months left,” he mutters into his ear. “We’ll meet them in two months.”

“Two months…” Swiss sighs contentedly.

Taglist: @arkeusruin @skele-bunny @everybodyshusband @ratsummer @jazz-bazz @mac-and-thefox @karmicbias @wine-irytatus (if anyone from here wants to be removed lmk, and also if anyone else wants to be added)

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swissalps #symbol on the surface #cw pregnancy

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holdmymallowsweet · 9 months ago

Text

What are you doing here? 06

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC Word count: 5612, properly tagged on AO3

Chapter summary: It had been four years since he'd made his first and only friends. Just enough time for him to forget how awkward the beginnings of a new friendship could be.

a/n: I hope you like teenage awkwardness, stupid misunderstandings and frustrated Ominis. Biggest thanks again to the world’s best beta reader ladyelisabeth, for ironing out all my silly little mistakes ❤️

Chapter 05 || Masterlist || Chapter 07 (coming soon)

Chapter 06 - Long way to go

“...Ominis.”

Not yet… a few more minutes.

“Ominis, it’s about to overflow.”

But it was the squeaking of the faucet that finally made him stir. “Oh.” Ominis’ voice was still a bit raspy from sleep, though it wasn’t the first time he’d woken up today. He’d dozed off again, on the bathroom floor, arm hanging over the edge of the tub so he’d know when it was full enough for him to get in.

The dungeons were perpetually cold this time of year, and he wasn’t fond of sitting naked and shivering in a half-empty tub until the water finally came up to his neck.

Ominis pried himself off the floor with a groan, scrunching his nose in disgust as the cold air hit his wet arm.

“Why are you up so early, anyway?” Sebastian asked.

“Couldn’t sleep anymore,” Ominis answered sluggishly, unbuttoning his shirt. The edge of his rolled up sleeve was slightly soaked, pressing a wet patch into his side.

“Oh, obviously,” came sarcastically from the direction of the sink.

Ominis ignored him. He’d gone to bed too exhausted to think of anything at all, and although his sleep wasn’t as restful as he’d have liked it to be, and not nearly enough to make up for the stresses of the previous two days, he’d woken up with a fairly clear mind.

Just clear enough to focus on new concerns. The easiest of which to deal with was that he’d not been as clean as he would have liked to be, for how close she’d been sitting to him.

Sebastian was almost done washing up, and Ominis stalled until he was through the door before he finished undressing and got in the bathtub. It wasn’t as if Sebastian had never seen him naked, that was unavoidable when living on top of each other for years, but Ominis still felt somewhat self-conscious about it.

The warm water felt like heaven. He practically melted into it, stretching out with a sigh, letting it wash away the grime and sweat and all the doubts and fears that had come with it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ominis”

They were friends now. He’d been so relieved and yet so weary of everything, he hadn’t actually put a single thought into what that meant.

Sebastian and Anne were the only real friends he’d ever had. The three of them had been inseparable since they were eleven, spending every hour of the day together until their electives, or Crossed Wands, or Sebastian’s library ventures necessitated they part for an hour or so. But even then, they’d always gravitated towards each other immediately after, stuck together again as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wouldn’t be like that with her. She didn’t make those sorts of friendships.

Always on the move to the next exciting thing that caught her attention, going off on her own to Merlin knows where, and not under any compulsion to tell anyone where she’d been or where she’d go next, no one person eagerly waiting for her to come back.

She belonged in a different common room, they wouldn’t eat together in the Great Hall, she had her usual seats next to her other friends for their lessons, what else was there? It was hard to imagine she’d somehow find the time to join them in the Undercroft for a round of Gobstones.

Wait- she didn’t like Gobstones.

Ominis sank deeper into the water, savouring the last few minutes of peace before the day well and truly started.

She’d see him today, right after breakfast, in History of Magic. Say hello when she did- and then what?

At the very least, he could invite her to study with him in the library again. Merlin knew she’d need it if she had any intention of passing her O.W.L.’s, and he’d just have to wait and figure out where to take it from there.

One step at a time.

He was clean for a start- time to tend to his next pressing concern.

Sebastian sat on his bed when Ominis finally emerged from the bathroom, seemingly busy with yet another book, but not so much that he missed the obvious growling coming from Ominis’ stomach. “Hungry?”

“Starving. I haven’t had proper food since the day before yesterday.”

“I brought you biscuits last night!” Sebastian said indignantly.

“I said proper food,” Ominis replied with a smirk.

Sebastian snorted. “Right.” Then he softened considerably. “I suppose you’re feeling well enough for classes today?”

“I think so.” Ominis took a deep breath. “I know I can’t dwell on it forever,” he said, with more conviction. “I know none of us knew what we were getting ourselves into. Just don’t forget what you promised.”

“I won’t.”

It wasn’t quite the earnest conversation Ominis wanted to have with Sebastian about what happened in the scriptorium, and some of the things peripheral to it- the ease with which Sebastian had cast an Unforgivable, why he had the knowledge to cast it in the first place, why he’d never talked to Ominis about it, even knowing how much he’d suffered because of the Dark Arts- but he’d give it a rest for now.

One step at a time.

Ominis took his time meticulously getting dressed, ignoring the gaping hole in his stomach that demanded to be filled with food.

“Do I look all right?”

Sebastian stopped what he was doing. “You know, I can’t even remember the last time you asked me that.”

“Well, do I?”

“Do you ever not?”

Ominis sighed. He would have liked to actually get Sebastian’s opinion, but he had too much pride to ask again.

The bathroom mirror was generous with its compliments, as it usually was, but he had a sneaking suspicion that those were enchanted to either point out the sort of sloppiness that would make Professor Black scoff, or else be unnecessarily flattering.

Today, it told him he looked “as dashing as a dewy morning,” whatever that was supposed to mean.

Ominis’ stomach growled again.

“Breakfast?” Sebastian asked mildly.

“Merlin, yes. Please.”

One step at a time.

“Good morning, Ominis.”

He almost jumped out of his seat. Through the commotion and annoyed groans of their classmates- because no one was enthusiastic about listening to Professor Binns’ waffling about Goblin rebellions first thing in the morning- he hadn’t heard her coming. Not to mention he’d already mentally prepared himself to catch up on some more sleep during the lesson.

“...sorry, did I startle you?” She tried to hold back a laugh.

“You caught me lost in thought,” he replied, cursing the warmth that spread over his cheeks and hoping it wasn’t too obvious. “How have you been last night? Did you go to the Hospital Wing in the end?”

“I didn’t need to. I think I’ve found something that works better.”

“Oh?” Ominis’ eyebrows shot up, and he gave her a curious smile. “Please do tell. What was it?”

“Talking to you,” she answered, with a sincerity that left him dumbstruck.

“Speaking of which,” she continued, “there’s something else I wanted to ask. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up yesterday.”

Ominis hesitated. He turned his head, but based on the noise and softly mumbled complaints, their classmates were still occupied with taking out their books and the mental preparations required to withstand Binns’ monotone droning.

She seemed to have noticed, because her voice dropped to a whisper. “Noctua Gaunt’s notes. I wanted to ask you if you’d like to have them. I’d understand if you don’t- I promise you I’ll keep them safe.”

The familiar sting came back as suddenly as Noctua’s name. “No, I’d like to have them.” It wasn’t even a decision. He owed her that much, she’d died for him.

Ominis held out his hand, expectantly.

“I don’t have them with me- they’re in my dormitory. I could get them for you after classes today?”

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

An excuse to meet later. Stick around to do homework, perhaps. He’d only have to ask.

“Would you-” he started, but the bells cut him off. He expected her to bid him goodbye, to go and sit with one of her friends- one of her other friends. Instead, she sat down next to him.

Should he mention it? Ask her what he’d done to suddenly deserve this much attention? Tell her she didn’t need to feel obligated to stick around?

But it was already too late for her to get up and switch seats anyway, so he said nothing and settled into his seat, chin propped up and eyes closed while the disembodied voice of their Professor promised an hour of profound boredom.

For a little while, he just concentrated on breathing.

She smelled like her soap. Stronger than usual, like that day in the library, so she’d started the day by taking a bath, just like he had. It was a lovely scent, slightly flowery, interwoven with the smell of the plants from her common room that always clung to all the Hufflepuffs’ robes. Then he suddenly realised that she never wore perfume. It’d probably be a waste, considering how frequently she’d have to bathe, what with her rolling around in the dirt all the time.

He listened to the rhythmic scratching of her quill, too rhythmic for her to be taking notes. Not that there was much to be taking notes about, Binns was telling them some minutia about the Goblin rebellion of 1612, at a pace that would make a Streeler cry. She was probably doodling in her textbook.

Smiling to himself, he took his quill, the regular one, ripped off a piece of parchment and started writing.

Bored?

A gentle tap of parchment against her hand got her attention. The scratching stopped as the parchment slipped out under his fingers, then resumed more evenly, purposeful. Ominis changed the quill in his hand for his wand, ready for her reply.

deadly. you?

Quite the same

Her next reply took a bit longer, scratches more hesitant than before, but he wasn’t kept in suspense for long.

you use your wand to read? how does it work?

Should he? Trying to keep a straight face, he wrote his answer and slid it over.

Magic

It earned him a playful elbow jab that made his heart leap. Ominis’ face split into a genuine smile as she tried and failed to stifle a laugh.

fine keep your secrets

At least you’re not bored anymore

no first time I’m not, in history thanks to you

…Thanks to him.

I’m glad How do you usually pass the time Sleep?

sometimes I fall asleep sometimes I just stare at the windows. they’re even prettier than the ones at church

Ominis froze briefly. He had a vague idea of what “church” was- some building vitally important to Muggle customs, Muggleborns mentioned it every now and again- but he’d never been sure if it was a particularly pleasant place, other than having nice windows, apparently.

So he decided to disregard it for now.

You’d like the ones in our common room

I’m sure I would, I heard the view is lov

He had the piece of parchment ripped out from under his fingers before he’d finished reading.

I’m sure I would, I heard the view is lovely sorry, I guess you wouldn’t know

Ominis frowned. He didn’t like where this was going, there was nothing for her to be sorry about.

No matter The view is lovely from what I know Sebastian said if you hit the windows with spells sometimes the squid hits back

how did he find out

Tried to find out if our windows were spell resistant

what if they hadn’t been?

Would have drowned us all I suppose

She quietly snorted with laughter.

Ominis couldn’t remember the last time he felt this light during History of Magic. Or smiled this much. Or didn’t want the lesson to end.

It was the first time he’d cursed the bells cutting off Binns and signalling their freedom, but he noticed she didn’t join the choir of relieved sighs either.

“-five rolls of parchment on the topic of today's lesson, to be handed in on Friday.” The audible tail end of his instruction was met with obvious displeasure and quite a few groans, which the ghost ignored as resolutely as his own death.

“...Did he say five rolls?” she asked with a hint of desperation.

Ominis smirked. “You should have been here last year, his record is twelve.”

She made a noise that sounded vaguely like a strangled cat. “I think I haven’t paid attention to a single word he said.”

Ominis hummed in agreement as he packed his things, feeling around on the table for the piece of parchment they’d written on, but it was already gone. He didn’t know why the realisation upset him.

“No one does, but as long as you vaguely remember some dates, you can look it up in the book.” He smirked. “Surprisingly, it takes but a fraction of the time Professor Binns needs to elaborate on it.”

“Would you like to meet up later? Perhaps we could write it together.”

Such a simple request, but it hit Ominis like a ray of sunshine. “Yes, I would. Shall we meet in the library?”

She hummed teasingly. “Am I still not welcome in the Undercroft?”

“Sure, if you want to write them on the floor.” He’d faltered briefly, but they’d been through much worse since that particular argument, and she still voluntarily sought out his company.

“I think I’d prefer the library.”

“I thought as much.” He’d finished packing up. Charms was next, they’d be joined by Sebastian and after-

“Natty’s waiting for me- see you, Ominis.”

“...Right.”

And gone she was, again. Of course she was, she always spent Charms with Onai- but for a brief, foolish moment he wished she would have made an exception, for him, just for today.

It never rains but it pours. Not sitting with her in Charms had been a small disappointment, but he hadn’t expected to be unlucky enough to end up next to Leander Prewett instead.

“Gaunt.”

It was the third time since class had started that the Gryffindor had tried to get his attention. They were going over the colour change charm again, and while Professor Ronan had encouraged Ominis to ask Prewett if his marbles had turned the correct shade of blue- a suggestion Ominis had politely acknowledged and then ignored- he had a hunch that Prewett’s repeated tries to get his attention had nothing to do with the lesson.

“Gaunt.”

Again, and always when the sound of Professor Ronan’s footsteps grew faint and he could be heard giving instructions at the opposite side of the room.

Ominis lowered his wand. “Can I help you?”

“I saw the two of you, being all chummy in History of Magic.”

So that’s what this was about.

“It’s bad enough that Sallow keeps pestering her, she doesn’t need to be bothered by the likes of you, ” Prewett said with obvious contempt.

Oh please. He might still be insecure about their budding friendship, but he certainly couldn’t care less what Leander Prewett thought of it.

“I do apologise,” Ominis said, as sincerely as he could fake it. “I suppose I should have been more considerate towards your girlfriend.”

“I- well, she’s not my girlfriend-” Prewett tripped over his words, flustered.

“Then it’s not your place to decide who she spends her time with, is it.”

Prewett sat in stunned silence for a moment, then Ominis could hear him angrily slamming his textbook shut, followed by the sound of marbles clattering on the floor and a string of curses.

The corners of Ominis’ mouth curled into a self-satisfied smirk. He was probably going to get murderous looks for the remainder of the lesson, but it wasn’t as if he’d have to see it.

It wasn’t surprising that Prewett thought the seemingly sweet, innocent little Hufflepuff was too good for the descendant of Slytherin and the most notorious troublemaker in their year. Plenty of others probably agreed, even if they had enough sense to keep that opinion to themselves.

And he very much doubted Prewett would have said anything at all if Sebastian had been close enough to hear it.

Which left the question, would he have said anything if she had been?

Ominis left the Charms classroom in a pensive mood.

He tried not to dwell on his conversation with Prewett. Instead, he kept his mind busy trying to construct an excuse for why he’d not finished his Potions essay that wouldn’t cause Sharp to have him scrub cauldrons until after midnight.

Being unwell yesterday was the most obvious one, but it wouldn’t be difficult for Sharp to figure out that he’d never been to the hospital wing. One casual inquiry towards Nurse Blainey at the staff table during dinner was all it would take.

The only reason he got away with missing his classes at all was that his connection to the headmaster usually shielded him from scrutiny, but he’d rather not push his luck.

On the steps just outside the door, he could hear Prewetts voice again, urgently talking to Onai, and although he went in the opposite direction and the general noise drowned them out, he could still hear his own name being mentioned.

It left him with a vague sense of foreboding.

Prewett had made his feelings about him abundantly clear, and Onai was at the very least wary of him. Ominis was fairly certain he’d never given her a reason to be, but he supposed his family name and the reputation that came with it was enough.

Perhaps enough for Onai to disapprove of them now sharing a common friend. If she did, she’d have plenty opportunity to voice it soon, when the two of them would be in Beast class together.

Ominis’ stomach turned.

He had a hard time mustering up any enthusiasm for lunch after that, although that was mainly due to him still being full from breakfast. So instead he decided to use the time to catch up on his sleep in the Undercroft, tasking Sebastian with waking him up in time for Arithmancy and ignoring the voice in his head telling him he should at least try and put something on parchment for Potions.

He consoled himself with the thought that at least he’d be awake enough to pay attention in Sharp’s class.

And his subsequent, inevitable detention.

He still fell asleep in Arithmancy.

Eyes still sleep-swollen, Ominis somehow still didn’t feel well rested by the time he met up with Sebastian in the Potions classroom. He’d tried to be early, so he could at least make sure he’d be properly prepared for the lesson- and have time for a much needed conversation.

“How was Beasts class?” Ominis tried to pass it off as small talk, while weighing his bottle of Horklump juice in his hands to figure out if he still had enough.

Sebastian snorted. “I’m sorry, are you expecting me to believe you care? Just tell me what you really want to ask.”

Ominis grimaced. Fine, he hadn’t exactly been elegant, or subtle- in his defence, sleeping through most of Arithmancy hadn’t left him with much time to think of something better. “Oh, all right. Did Onai seem odd at all, or did she say anything?”

“What about? Of course she was saying something , we all did, it’s not exactly a quiet class.”

Oh, Merlin. He felt awkward about it, for some reason, but Sebastian was still his closest friend, and the only one who he could talk to about this. He rolled the bottle between his hands, more to keep them busy than because he still needed to. “I met her yesterday, when I… went for a walk. We talked about what happened in the scriptorium-”

“Onai?”

Ominis gave him a long-suffering look.

“Oh. Wait, why am I only hearing about this now? You should have told me yesterday.”

“I’m telling you now. We talked, and… we’ve decided we’d like to try to be friends, after all. We sat together in History of Magic this morning. Only it seems there are some who didn’t like that very much.” Ominis almost missed the table when he put the bottle down, but Sebastian caught it in time.

“It’s none of their business who you sit with in History of Magic,” Sebastian said dismissively.

“Obviously, but I still wouldn’t want them to bother her about it. I think… I’m fairly certain Prewett told Onai to warn her about me.”

“Even if she does, it won’t make a difference, trust me. Don’t worry about it.”

“Perhaps. But if she had to choose, I’d doubt she’d pick me over her other friends. I wouldn’t blame her.”

“I would.”

“Oh?”

“But I won’t have to. Trust me. And besides, we come as a set, you and I. She won’t choose any other friends over me.”

Ominis made a vaguely affirmative noise. Sebastian had a point- as long as the two of them were friends, it wasn’t likely that she’d shun him, now that they’d made it past their initial differences. But he somehow wished that wasn’t the reason, not all of it, at least.

“I’d thought you’d be over worrying what others thought of you. Don’t mind them,” Sebastian said soothingly.

He didn’t. He was afraid she might.

“And Prewett’s still sulking because she wasn’t impressed by his insights on chomping cabbages.”

Ominis snorted at that. “How dare she.”

As expected, Professor Sharp was not enthused to be a parchment short when he collected their homework. He gave Ominis until Monday to hand it in- at double the length. Ominis was tempted to ask for detention instead. Scrubbing cauldrons seemed like a less excruciating ordeal by comparison.

Half an hour later, his potion was on its way to turn out poorly, if the smell and Sharp’s disappointed sigh as he passed them were anything to go by.

She’d been busy at the opposite side of the classroom, doing a perfectly fine job with her own potion, of course. Even finding time to chat and laugh with Weasley while she was at it. Ominis didn’t think he’d ever wanted to drop this blasted class more.

He half heartedly dropped his spider fangs in the cauldron, causing some of its foul smelling mixture to splatter onto his hand, where it left painfully burning spots. “Oh for the love of-”

“All right?” Sebastian asked.

“Fine.” Ominis was soothing the burns with a mild cooling charm, when he heard her approach. For the first time since yesterday, he wished she’d stayed away.

“Would you like some help?”

It returned in full force. The same uneasy feeling from before, when she’d apologised about mentioning the view from the Slytherin common room windows, only now it was starting to grow into something more like panic.

He shouldn’t say anything. Her friendship had been hard earned, she only meant well, but the longer he let it go, the harder it would be to bring it up, and he’d have to bring it up eventually.

“Ominis?” She asked again. “I could help you out, if you want. I don’t mind.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” he replied, as calmly as he could.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, very much so.”

She leaned over his cauldron. “It’s starting to curdle.”

“I’m asking you to stop,” Ominis said coldly. “Let me fail or succeed on my own. I don’t need your help.”

She froze. Just long enough for Ominis to regret every word, think of a hundred ways to say it instead.

She took a step back. “I understand.”

“Wait.” Ominis grabbed her by the sleeve as she turned to leave, but let go almost immediately. “…Are we still meeting in the library later?” he asked nervously.

She sighed- In relief? Or exasperation? “I’ll be there.” It was all she said before going back to her potion station, leaving Ominis behind, forlorn and confused.

Sebastian groaned. “Ominis-”

“Don’t.” The pain in Ominis’ hand came back- he deserved it.

He gave up on his potion. It had started to curdle, and he couldn’t even begin to guess how to fix it.

Once Professor Sharp had made his final round- with another disappointed sigh as he passed Ominis’ cauldron, but at that point it would have been foolishly optimistic to expect anything else- Sebastian excused himself. He’d spent a few minutes talking to her, what about, Ominis couldn’t hear.

“Just wanted to make sure she’s all right,” Sebastian explained, once he’d caught up with Ominis outside the classroom.

“Is she?” Ominis asked quietly.

“‘Course she is, you know her.” Sebastian paused. “Or maybe not.”

“I know she means well, I… I just don’t want it to be like that. I don’t want her help.”

“Why not?” asked Sebastian. “I still help you when you need it. All the time.”

“You’re not being so obvious when you do.”

Casually describing pictures or paintings, as if he was just musing aloud. Handing Ominis the pruning shears in Herbology so he wouldn’t either have to feel around for them and possibly cut himself, or have to grab his wand with soil stained hands. Catching his potion bottles when he missed the table.

“Now. I constantly made a fool of myself when we first became friends. Remember in our first week, when I tried to help you up the stairs and you tripped me for it?”

“I didn’t-”

“It’s been four years, you can stop pretending it was an accident,” Sebastian scoffed.

Ominis almost laughed, but he managed to turn it into an annoyed huff at the last moment. “Fine. I still can’t believe you thought I’d need help getting up the stairs.”

“They were moving!”

“‘They were moving,’” Ominis repeated, mockingly.

“All right, are you done?”

He was. Unfortunately, that meant he no longer had anything to distract himself from the doubts gnawing at his mind.

Walking through the library door, he’d felt a moment of pure dread, until the sound of her voice carried his worries away like the autumn breeze.

She wasn’t one to nurse a grudge, but Merlin, after Potions he wouldn’t have blamed her for not showing up at all. But she’d waited for him, at the same table as last time.

It tore at his heart.

After they’d spend History of Magic chatting as if they’d been friends for years, not being able to guess what had soured his mood in between, she couldn’t possibly have expected him to suddenly snap at her like he did back when he caught her leaving the Undercroft.

It must have hurt her more than she let on, but if she was at all bitter about it, she hid it well. None of them brought it up. For a terrifying moment, Ominis had thought Sebastian was about to- he’d invited himself to join them, and Ominis had been glad for it- but he’d just asked her for a piece of spare parchment.

They’d said their hellos, gave their insincere apologies because Madam Scribner had been walking by too close just then, and sat at the table in amiable silence ever since. Across from her, because there was no reason for him and Sebastian to split up when they’d walked in together, and she’d already spread out her things over her side of the table.

So there’d be no more friendly elbow jabs for today.

Deciding that Sharp was the bigger threat- and perhaps also because even without the aural sleeping agent that was Binns’ voice, more History of Magic was likely to put them to sleep then and there- they’d decided to work on Potions first.

He regretted the decision almost instantly. Potions was famously his worst subject, and each time he furrowed his brow and bit his lip because he couldn’t make sense of the instructions as they were described in the book, Ominis ignored the voice of reason that told him to ‘just ask her, that’s why you’re sitting here together.’

But he still had his pride. He wasn’t going to ask her for help after telling her to let him fail on his own, and he knew her well enough by now to know that she wouldn’t let it go without a bit of teasing.

Today, he didn’t trust himself not to retort unkindly. And he wanted to take at least some of the familiarity and warmth they’d shared this morning with him when he left.

“Not going too well?”

He froze.

“...Ominis,” she added, obviously unsure if he knew he’d been the one she’d spoken to.

Just let it go. It’s just a question. She’s only being polite, she only means well.

“I can manage,” he replied.

Sebastian was quiet- too quiet, all of a sudden, so he was almost definitely keeping an eye on them, which almost annoyed Ominis more than her unwanted thoughtfulness.

“I can read it over for you, if you’d like,” she offered.

“I don’t.”

“Ominis, I think she just-”

“I know. Stay out of it.” Ominis buried his face in his hands, fingers pressing against his temples. “I told you before, I don’t need your help. I don’t need you to be my caretaker. What I need is for you to listen to me, for once.”

It was deadly quiet.

“I meant,” she started softly, “We could switch. You read over mine and I read yours. I would have done it this way with anyone- I do it a lot with Adelaide.”

Ominis was silently begging for anything- Cressida Blume’s failed spell experiments, Peeves, the impending Goblin rebellion Binns didn’t care about because it happened now instead of hundreds of years ago- to come and put him out of this misery, to distract them and give them something else to focus on.

“It’s all right.” She said it softly, again, but Ominis almost would have preferred it if she got angry with him. At least then he wouldn’t feel as much like a fool.

Why was Madam Scribner not coming over to scold them for the ruckus, the one time he would have welcomed it?

“Well,” Sebastian finally said, jovially, “at least this isn’t awkward at all.”

Ominis groaned. “Sebastian-”

But she dissolved into laughter, and the tension with her, so he gladly shut up and quietly slid his homework across the table. A wordless apology, until he could pluck up the courage to give her a proper one.

She returned the gesture, and taking the parchment from under her fingers almost brought back the feeling of when they’d done the same in History of Magic.

Sebastian said nothing more, but Ominis knew he was silently watching them. He wasn’t looking forward to the conversation they were going to have over this, once she left and they were alone again.

To his surprise, Sebastian was the first of them to leave.

“Why?” Ominis asked desperately, as he listened to his friend packing up his things.

“I took the notes I needed, I’ll have to cross reference them with another book. One I thought I’d better not carry around with me.”

That one.

“You weren’t doing your homework?”

“No.” Sebastian’s chair screeched over the floor as he stood up. “I’ll find the time for that later. Anne is more important.”

Ominis didn’t know what to say. Of course Anne was, that’s why he’d let Sebastian take Slytherin’s spellbook in the first place, but…

“Can I leave the two of you alone?”

“Of course you can,” she replied, before Ominis could object.

He wasn’t sure if it was intentional. “Of course,” he echoed, with much less enthusiasm.

In spite of what they told him, they still sat in awkward silence for a while, after Sebastian left.

Feeling the strong urge to occupy his fingers, Ominis started fidgeting with the sleeves of his robes, then realised how silly he must look and forced himself to stop.

“I’m almost done,” she told him evenly.

“That’s good.” No, it wasn’t. Not if this was his last chance not to let the day end like this, and he didn’t take it.

“Listen,” he started, “I truly am sorry about before, I don’t know what came over me. Only…” He squeezed his eyes shut, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “...it’s been a long day.”

“...I meant it when I said it’s all right,” she said softly.

“Did you?”

“I thought you could tell when I lied to you.”

“Fair point.” It came out low, barely above a whisper, but his relief was still audible. It made him feel vulnerable, but he didn’t mind for once.

She’d put up with a lot where he was concerned, when she didn’t have to.

Ominis was tuned into Sebastian and Anne, and being with her was… different. He was glad to be more than a casual acquaintance she’d greet in between classes, or when they passed each other in the corridors, but the constant anxiety that came from the unfamiliarity was exhausting.

Not necessarily in a bad way. Just a way he wasn’t used to.

“You don’t have to, but if you’d like, I think I may have an idea of how you could make it up to me.”

It never ceased to amaze him how quickly she always fell back into that melodic, playful tone. Perhaps that was why he didn’t stop to think twice about the offer. “I’m listening.”

But as she finished speaking, he still wasn’t entirely sure if he’d heard her correctly.

“I’m sorry- you’d like me to go where with you?”

a/n: Where, oh where might they be going? I really wanted to thank everyone who still enjoys reading this, I’m sorry I can’t seem to stick to a regular update schedule to safe my live, but it means a lot to me that people are still waiting and looking forward to new chapters ❤️ Secretly chatting in class by passing notes back and forth is something I did a lot in my school days, so I’ve always wanted to write a scene like that for them. And since they’re canonically seat neighbours in History of Magic, I thought it would be a cute way for them to pass the time, when they’re not napping, that is. And we’re still on track for the Halloween themed chapter to actually be up on Halloween (or slightly before, if I can manage).

#hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #mallow tries to write #WAYDH

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teamtakagi · 2 months ago

Text

A Warden and One Lonely Girl

Response to @a-mumbling-nerd's Will Things Get Better? and One Lonely Girl and a Letter. Please read those first!

Takes place after Nhial and Jerran's fight in What are Friends For? .

Eleanor, Yesult - @a-mumbling-nerd (Again, huge thanks for input and dialogue!)

Rooks briefly mentioned:

Jin - @wickedadaar (I alluded to the Inglorious Rooks, but it’s not specified)

Nheil, Bug - @so--whoonos

Rowena - @booksncatsworld

Dolores - @legendstrauma

Nels - @madrabbit014

Thank you for allowing me to use them!

Grey Warden Quarters

Usually, Jerran’s room was a haven. Tonight, it felt too quiet. Too empty. Too easy for the memories to haunt him. Jerran dragged himself out of bed, moving slowly as his ribs screamed at him. The healers promised they weren’t broken, just bruised. His dry throat made it hard to swallow and his eyes felt scratchy. Fuck. I feel like an ogre ran me over in the Deep Roads.

After multiple days out on patrol, Sergeant Jin had ordered him to take a couple days off to recover. He grimaced, remembering nearly being caught in a magically-induced ice storm, and his fingers tingled at the memory.

His shoulder – once dislocated early in his Grey Warden career – ached. He swigged an elfroot potion and bent over a wash basin to splash water on his face as he waited for the medicine to take effect.

Roughly pushing wet hair away from his eyes, Jerran caught a glimpse of himself in the shaving mirror hanging on the wall. A haggard face decorated in bruises and scrapes stared back. A collage of yellow, green, and faded purple encircled his right eye; a souvenir from Nheil’s and his tussle.

Nheil. Shit. Ellie.

The Crow mentioned that Eleanor wasn’t doing well; Jerran fully intended to check up on her after the fight.

But with Sergeant Jin calling for an emergency mission to thwart a Venatori assault on the Minrathous upper neighborhoods, Jerran had no choice but to respond to the orders. Three days later … he'd finally returned, battered.

Despite his aching muscles, he threw on his fatigues, tightening the belt two notches more to fit properly, and pulled on a pair of clean boots. It would have to do. He grabbed a halla doe carving that he’d been working on to match the first one that he’d given Ellie.

The Lighthouse was fairly quiet as he made his way to the Mournwatcher area since most people were asleep. Or at least the Lighthouse had excellent soundproof walls. Bug greeted him as he entered the Mournwatcher hallway.

After petting the skeleton dog, Jerran stopped in front of Eleanor’s door and knocked. It cracked open slightly under his hand. “Ellie? You there?”

No reply.

After knocking once more, he pushed it open. He could always beg forgiveness later for intruding on her privacy.

Her bedroom, a casual mixture of elegance and slightly worn furniture with light green mint-painted walls, usually reminded Jerran of an airy impression of the Necropolis. As neat and orderly as the memorial gardens themselves, a reflection of her brilliant mind. He usually enjoyed visiting her as she practiced the harp sitting in the corner of the room.

Today though…. He nearly tripped over a pile of books toppled over in the middle of her bedroom and frowned. She always treated the tomes with utmost respect, something she’d learned from her parents and a famed professor. He nudged them aside with his boot to make room as he stepped toward the bed.

Haphazardly-stacked teacups teetered on a side table amidst scribbled papers and even more books. He caught the porcelain dishes before they crashed to the floor and set them aside. Picking up one of the papers, he noted that she’d been writing notes on the Blight.

Turning his attention toward the bed, he stilled. A mound of blankets lay jumbled in a heap instead of the typical basket that Eleanor routinely used in the morning. Is she sick? Like himself, Eleanor cocooned herself when she wasn’t feeling well. Maker help us if we both got sick, he’d joked once. She’d giggled and suggested stacking elfroot potions and snickerdoodles on a nearby table.

His first halla carving lay on the pillow along with a folded piece of expensive stationary with the Ingellvar coat of arms. Picking up the note, he unfolded it, skimming the elegant penmanship:

___

Dearest Eleanor Rudith Amaryllis Ingellvar,

Your father and I have received word from your dear Aunt Dolores Ingellvar that things may not be as well as you have previously inscribed since our last missive. We are thankful for informing us of your physical well-being, though we fear, based on your Aunt’s description, that may also be in jeopardy.

While your father and I are incredibly proud of you for taking on this challenge, we both agree that perhaps it is best for you to return home. Be sure to inform your Aunt of your decision and we will make the arrangements.

With love,

Yesult Persephone Honora Ingellvar

____

He re-read the note, hoping he was wrong.

Ellie was leaving.

Fuck, fuck fuck. Why hadn’t anyone told him? She was at the Lighthouse; she should have been safe. Rubbing a hand over his face, he considered the situation. Her trunks weren’t set out, so she hadn’t started packing yet. He had a chance, maybe.

Although, wouldn’t it be better for her health if she did go?

I need to talk to her. He tossed the note back on the bed and wove his way through the mess. As though sensing Jerran’s growing agitation, Bug remained out in the hallway. “Do you know where she is, boy?”

The skeleton dog pranced around Jerran’s legs before leading him to Rowena’s room. Through the slightly open door, he saw pale gold hair. He raised her hand to knock when he heard Ellie's sobs.

“I just want him here. I know he's changed – that he’s different. But I miss him, Rowena. It's been over a week and he hasn't said a word. He said he'd always be there for me.”

His body felt cold as he realized what he’d done.

She’d told him once that loneliness had been her greatest companion and fear in the Necropolis; she’d felt ugly and unloved. And what had he done? Left her.

To keep her safe, he’d reasoned. The blood magic, the Blight… it's too much risk.

But isn’t that what his own father did? Suddenly Jerran was eight years old again, watching his father leave on yet another mercenary trip, refusing to even glance in the young elf’s direction.

Always staying one night and leaving the next morning after barely exchanging words beyond Stop sniveling. Jerran reminded him too much of her – Gwynna, his wife. Jerran’s mother.

Eventually, his father stopped coming home all together, leaving Jerran left behind to wonder.

I just want him here.

Rowena's voice murmuring something too low for him to catch brought him back to the present. He cleared his throat. “Ellie? Are you there?”

Footsteps. Then Rowena appeared, her usually kind face cool with disapproval. “Thorne.”

“Rowena. Is Ellie there?”

Rowena opened her mouth, no doubt to deny it, when Eleanor’s wavering voice came from behind her. “J-Jerran?”

Reluctantly, Rowena stepped aside, allowing Jerran to peer in. His eyes widened.

Eleanor huddled on Rowena’s bed, a blanket wrapped around her as she sniffled. She glanced toward him, her face puffy from crying and lack of sleep. Dark smudges underlined her eyes, accentuating her paler-than-normal skin. Her lips trembled as tears filled her glassy eyes. Hair, usually immaculately braided or let down in loose waves, lay matted and tangled down her back.

Rowena cleared her throat. “Say what you need to say, Thorne.” Her tone made the Necropolis seem as warm as a Rivainian beach.

“Ellie… I… I heard you were sick.” Jerran started to take a step into the room and halted at Rowena’s glare. “Could we talk? Please? In private?”

Rowena’s eyes flickered to Eleanor, raising her eyebrows slightly. At Eleanor’s nod, the white-haired Mournwatcher stood aside, allowing Jerran to pass her. “I will not be far.” The withering look she gave Jerran would have made Nels proud. She stepped out into the hallway.

Jerran stepped into the room and partially closed the door behind them. Eleanor looked up at him with the same misery that he’d seen in his own reflection. “You’re here. I’m not going to wake up and realize this is a dream, am I?” she whispered.

He swallowed hard. “No, Ellie. I’m really here.” He tentatively sat next to her, looking into those gorgeous blue eyes filled with so much heartache. “I…I should have been there for you, Ellie. I was so wrapped up in my own head – I thought you’d be safe here, among friends.

“I broke my promise to you, the one person that matters most to me in this whole damn world.

“Sorry isn’t enough. But I am sorry, Ellie, that I fucked up so badly.” He steeled himself for the next part. “I get it, if you want to go home and forget about me. You deserve a lot better.”

#teamtakagi #jerran thorne #dragon age veilguard #dragon age #dragonage rook #dragon age rook #writing #other rooks #screenshot #rook x rook #rrau #rooks roost au #minrathous falls #eleanor ingellvar

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tashacee · 2 years ago

Note

If Time used the truth mask-thing would he be able to see Wild as a hylian?

HMMMMM on the one hand i'm not sure it would work on this situation, on the other hand....

have a crack fic. I made myself laugh.

Aspects of Two Idiots

Wild had wandered off.

This was not unusual in and of itself - the guy was forever wandering off and exploring and getting himself into all sorts of trouble. At least, unlike Hyrule, he tended not to get himself hopelessly lost. And no matter how filthy he was when he came back (and oh, did he come back filthy) he always actually cleaned himself off.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was, Wild had wandered off, and the Chain were starting to get hungry. Of course, they were all grown adults - well, most of them, at least, and in theory they could provide for themselves. Hyrule had his dried meats and fruit and they had a supply of bread and cheese. And of course, one of them could always try to actually cook.

It was just that. Well.

The Chain cooking never ended well.

Time had sighed at the latest moan, this time from Sky, who despite his generally sweet disposition could still get grumpy when he was hungry enough. They had all had a long day and desperately needed this break. The woods that they were travelling through were full of glamours and illusions, and it had taken every ounce of magical awareness to get through without falling into any traps.

Wild, he was pretty sure, had just gone down to the nearby stream to wash off after someone had shot a massive chu too close to him and the whole thing had exploded into his fur.

He had been very, very angry after that.

Time could understand him needing a break.

Still, the Chain was hungry, and Time couldn’t be bothered listening to them complain any longer. At least if he went to find their missing brother then he would be doing something, and perhaps he could be of help scrubbing the dried chu jelly from his fur.

Ugh. It had been so gross.

“I’ll go.” Time had said, and strode out of camp without waiting for a response.

It was peaceful enough. In a sudden stroke of inspiration he had slipped on the Mask of Truth and now could easily see through any illusions in the forest long before they became an issue. The mask didn’t do anything for sounds, unfortunately, so he couldn’t hear anything coming, but it was good enough to do.

Time hummed to himself idly as he walked down to the stream, an old, gentle tune. It wasn’t until he was nearly at the water’s edge that he realised something was wrong.

Wild wasn’t where he should have been. In his place was a short, blond man, a boy, really, irritably scrubbing at his long blond hair. From where he stood in the trees, Time could see how scars - horrible, familiar scars - twisted around half of his body. He could see how one arm had been removed and set to the side, out of the way of the water.

What the fuck.

Time blinked, and then slipped the mask down, peering over with his own eyes.

There was Wild, lifting one leg to his shoulder and twisting so that he could clean himself properly.

He put the mask back on. The hero he knew and loved was replaced by this blond stranger.

What in the-

Time shifted his weight, and beneath his feet a stick cracked.

Not-Wild looked around, his eyes wide. He whined in question.

Time slipped the mask off, not wanting to startle his brother.

“It’s me.” he said, coming into the light, looking at Wild and trying to understand what he had just seen.

Wild… for want of a better word, Wild looked terrified. Like he had been caught doing something taboo, something terrible. Like a deer in the headlights. Like a man about to face the chopping block.

“Wild-” Time began to ask, but in an instant his brother was upon him, jamming his arm back in place and pressing his hands to Time’s lips in a silencing gesture, eyes wide as he desperately shook his head. Time wondered at the back of his mind what he would be seeing in the mask - the boy that had been in place of Wild had been so much shorter, would he have to reach to cover Time’s lips?

Clearly Wild knew he had been seen, that Time knew about his secret form. Was this Wild’s real body? The body he had been born into? Had he been changed into the form he had now? Made to change? Chosen to change?

What the hell was going on?

Time pulled away - “Okay, okay, i just - i have some questio-”

Wild yipped in alarm and shook his head frantically. He even tried some of the rudimentary sign he had picked up, Time could just about make out the words ‘secret’ and ‘please’ through his shaking fingers.

Slowly, Time nodded. Whatever this was, whyever Wild looked so different through the Mask, it clearly wasn’t something that was supposed to be shared. It was private, a secret. Time could understand that, he supposed. Plenty of people had pasts they didn’t want others to know about, other forms they would rather keep private. Time himself could think of a number of different forms he had borne that he would rather not share with the group.

He didn’t know why his brother might show as a hylian through whatever glamour he must have been wearing, but if he didn’t want to share, then Time wasn’t going to ask.

“It’s okay.” Time murmured, as reassuring as he could. “I won’t tell anyone, your secret’s safe with me.”

In front of him, Wild nearly melted with relief.

Wild had gone down to the river to get some peace. Not because he was mad! Really, Wind couldn’t have known when he shot what must have been the world’s largest chu chu that it was going to explode literally all over Wild. He couldn’t have known that they still would have to fight the rest of the battle in the baking sun and then hike through hours through this terrible cursed forest until they found a safe camp site.

No one could have foreseen that the jelly would solidify into a horrible, sticky gunk that matted through wild’s fur and stank to high heaven.

It wasn’t anybody’s fault. It just sucked.

The longer the jelly stayed on the harder it got, and it tugged and pulled at Wild’s fur as he moved. It was awful. He hated it. He knew that he was in a bad mood because of it. That was way he refused any offers of company to the river as politely as he could and went off on his own. He needed some time to just groom himself in peace.

And so he had. It had been nice, despite the spookiness of the woods. Once he got the jelly wet again it came off fairly easily, so he had been able to relax into his grooming routine. Gently, he brushed through his fur, humming softly to himself, enjoying the feeling of being clean again.

It was a cat thing. He was pretty sure that while he had understood the importance of hygiene and enjoyed the occasional luxurious soak before, it had never been like this. He wondered what else he was missing out on, what other feline habits he should try out while he had the chance. Grooming was so good, after all.

…grooming. Huh.

Didn’t cats groom with their tongues?

Ugh! No! He wasn’t trying that, gross!

Unless…

No!

But maybe…

Wild looked around to make sure he was alone. Nothing stirred in the forest. He looked down at his arm, recently cleaned and neatly brushed. He leaned over and gave it a testing ‘lick’.

Huh. Weird. It… it didn’t feel the most natural in the world, but it also wasn’t terrible. He licked again, more firmly this time. To his surprise, the fur rearranged itself neatly, lying flatter than before.

What the fuck.

He bent over and twisted, lifting his leg to try licking his ankle. Not for any other reason than it was there, and he was doing an experiment.

Huh. No, it didn’t feel right. And besides, it was all very well him saying it wasn’t the worst, but he was freshly clean now. The idea of licking his fur when he was actually dirty was still pretty repulsive.

Welp, there was one cat habit he could safely say he hadn’t absorbed.

Something rustled behind him.

Wild was on his feet in an instant, ready to attack whatever it was but also horrified at the thought that one of his brothers might have seen him.

Time stepped out of the trees. “It’s me.” he said, and he looked more than a little bewildered.

Ah, shit. He’d seen.

Wild whined as his brother said his name, and grabbed his arm from where he had left it by the water’s edge. Jamming it back into place, he rushed up to time and slammed his hands over his mouth, shaking his head viciously.

Don’t say it. Please please please, Old Man, don’t say it out loud. Ah, shit, Wild couldn’t take the embarrassment. This was terrible! Why had he ever thought that he should try licking his fur of all things, he wasn’t actually an animal!

Time pulled away from his grasp, holding out his hands in what was clearly meant to be a pacifying gesture. “Okay, okay, i just - i have some questio-”

NOPE! NO QUESTIONS FOR YOU, OLD MAN.

Wild barely contained his screech of alarm, shaking his head again. He never, ever wanted to talk about this with anyone, ever. He would do anything, give anything. He’d make Time’s favourite food every night for the rest of their adventure, he’d clean his shoes, he’d stop groaning at his terrible old man jokes, anything to avoid the humiliation of this conversation.

Finally, Time sighed and offered him a small smile. “It’s okay.” he said, and Wild had never been more relieved that the Chain just assumed some of his odd habits were normal. With any luck, the old man would just presume that this was something he did in private and that it was inappropriate to talk about in public. Like going to the toilet or something. “I won’t tell anyone, your secret’s safe with me.”

OH THANK HYLIA.

And with that, the misunderstanding went unaddressed. Time knew about Wild’s other form as a hylian and didn’t bring it up because he thought it was a secret. Wild, believing his brother to have seen him grooming with his tongue, made Time’s favourite food every night for a week.

Neither mentioned that evening by the river again.

After all, they were heroes of courage, not wisdom.

#replies #hero’s aspect au #hero's aspect #linked universe fic #linked universe fanfic #linked universe #lu #it me #my writing

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sebastianswallows · 1 year ago

Text

The English Client — Two

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: angst, alienation, and exhaustion

— WORDCOUNT: 3.7k

— A/N: Apology to any Italian readers, Tom gets rather grumpy with how cheerful everyone else is around him 😂 Also, we finally meet our reader in this chapter! 💚

It was just as Tom predicted. As soon as Clement saw the state of his hotel, he wouldn't stay there for another minute. He tried to persuade Tom to come with him to some fancier place he had in mind, assuring him he'd pay for all expenses, but Tom wouldn't hear it. He'd spent enough time with people like him to know that nothing came for free.

In the end, Clement took the taxi onward to the Plaza Grand Hotel, but not before writing down Tom’s hotel and room number on the edge of a crumpled napkin.

“I will call you later, yes? Just in case you change your mind,” he winked.

The rest of his day was spent in a blissful void, interrupted by the occasional pang of hunger — which he quieted with water and crackers, before falling asleep again. He was woken in the evening by cheerful shouting from outside, distant music, and peels of laughter down the hallway. The sounds reverberated up the faded frescoes and chipped columns of the building, but he had to remind himself that he was among muggles now — no hexes. At least his pillow was soft... He buried his head beneath it and hoped to suffocate before morning.

When he woke up properly, feeling squeezed and still exhausted, the sun hadn’t yet risen. The streets were quiet save for the hooting of owls resting in the trees and little insects on their flowers. Little lights from faraway buildings lit up the horizon.

Tom had slept nude, too lazy to change into something after taking his clothes off. As soon as he sat up, he felt all weak and dizzy, hair ruffled sticking to his face, body cut through with creases from the sheets and muggy with his sweat. Worst of all, his blood had all seemed to pool into his legs. Standing up like a newborn fawn, he walked over to the windows, opened them wide, and breathed in the cold night air. It made his body shiver. It felt pleasant. It felt a little bit like home.

The early hours passed slowly. He managed to wash himself in the little closet of a bathroom, brushed his hair, and even put a few of his old things in order. After eating a ham sandwich he'd bought from the train's food car and brewing a cup of tea with magic, he felt like a new man. He sat by the window in a loose bathrobe and watched the rising sun, and as his strength returned to him he began mentally revising the events of his journey.

“To think I'll have to go through all of that again on my way back,” Tom groaned. “And I thought the Hogwarts Express was a bore…”

Travelling abroad had been on his agenda for quite a while, once he found all the artefacts he needed through Borgin and Burkes, but he hadn't quite anticipated how physically exhausting it would be to sit in a muggle contraption for hours on end. If he wanted to explore the world in search of rare magical items, he would have to devise a more suitable method. Perhaps Thestrals…

His thoughts turned to Clement again. His wide grin, his bright blue eyes, his utter carelessness of composure... What an annoying fellow. Well, if the need arose to make another Horcrux, at least he'd know where to look.

The afternoon found him roaming the streets of the city. He spent a little while acquainting himself with the landmarks closest to the hotel just enough to find his way if lost, but he'd also collected from the concierge a list of local rare book shops and antiquaries to start his investigation. It was with nothing more than this that Tom stepped onto the cobbled streets of Rome and started walking.

The hotel Burke had set him up in, the Gallienus, was among the cheapest. It was nestled in one of the poorer parts of town, where the roads were narrow and beggars slept on the stairs of buildings boarded up. There was at least one pile of dry and darkened animal droppings on every street corner. Trash overflowed from forgotten dumpsters, buzzing vibrantly in the sun.

It took him quite a while to find the first bookstore, and longer still to find a good one. Most of them sold less prestigious stuff than what they advertised. The muggles were cheerful and friendly, if false, and a few tried to barter with him all the way to the door. A couple with fancy window dressing had only the veneer of the authentic, selling new volumes beaten up or rebound with cardboard covers.

Still, he made a few acquaintances, if not outright friends, among the shopkeepers, and his list of options grew larger as he heard from them of more interesting stores, but by evening he had nothing to show for all his exploration.

Moreover, he was thoroughly lost. The cafes frothed with little umbrellas in the streets, the fountains billowed in the air and danced, and all of it started to look the same to him. The fancy suits of people coming back from work and their black voluptuous hairstyles all blended with each other. He'd ambled his way from the Via Domenichino to the Colosseum, then to the chip-toothed ruins of the Roman Forum, higher to the Pantheon, then down, down toward the Tiber.

The air was alight with ages past and everything was moving. The shadows of aged stone, touched by dereliction and decay and the stray shellings of the war that ended just seven years ago, danced at the corners of his eyes together with the throngs of white-dressed women and the scooters zipping by. And at any moment it felt as if some ancient in a toga would walk out from between those columns and shake a bony finger at the careless youth, lamenting, and asking just to die again.

Tom stopped somewhere along the Tiber and gazed out across its murky serpentine flow. If he squinted, he could just about see the Vatican. A flock of nuns passed him by, flowing in quiet black and white against a blue and just as quiet sky. The air was warm, but chilling. He was surrounded on every side by broad buildings in smooth geometric shapes, and yet he’d never felt quite so exposed before.

Now that he had a moment to stop and ponder the experience, he realised that being in Rome felt like being in the world and yet above it, as if the whole city was floating in the sky. A dish on a high pedestal, yawning to the heavens.

“Maddening,” he whispered to himself. “Imagine living here forever…”

Under the shadow of a sycamore, he leaned over the stone walls that enclosed the river. It was a long way down… Its waters seemed about as dark as Thames, but smoother. He wondered, without really caring, whether there were any corpses buried there, some skeletons stuck in the mud, forgotten and unwanted. The chime of churchbells reached him, cutting through the buzzing of the cars.

What would he do tomorrow? Much the same thing as today, he reasoned… Only he’d have far further to go to reach these newer places he just learned about. He reached into his pocket for a little map he’d folded up, and tried to smooth it out over the stone.

“Why does it have to be so complicated?” he mumbled to himself as he planned his pathway back to the hotel. “Even London isn’t this bad, right?” He’d forgotten that it was.

Turning, he looked once more at all the young people that now lined the street. For some reason, all of them were smiling, happy. A couple was shamelessly kissing as they hid behind a tree. When they started sliding down its trunk, tight in each other’s arms, Tom rolled his eyes and started walking back the way he’d come.

III

Sweat had dampened his shirt collar and went down the centre of his chest, but somehow it bothered him less than he expected it would. It was quite a different experience from the Knockturn Alley cellar where he worked, or that pittance of a room he rented above an apothecary shop.

Here all was warm stone, and coffee, and cats that slithered around the corners. Here he was nobody. Not Mr. Riddle, not Lord Voldemort, the terror and equal envy of his schoolmates, not Tom the orphan, Tom the gifted student, Tom the Head Boy. He wasn't even a half-blood or a wizard. Muggles had no idea about such things. Here he was nobody — except maybe ‘bel ragazzo’ when he passed by a hot-blooded madam sipping her red wine. To shed his myriad identities felt light and clean, like an old coat sliding off his shoulders.

So, what was he beneath all that?

Today, he was just a wanderer taking in the sights. Tomorrow, maybe something else.

The paved Roman street branched like a vein of undulating black blood into narrower and ever-winding paths, some leading back to the piazza, others through old buildings nestled so close together they blotted out the sun. He took one such path. It was cooler here than in the open, almost bearable, even with the piling trash and stench of cat piss everywhere.

Tom had never shied away from squalor. If anything, the old stones and the dampness and the hint of sewage reminded him a bit of his old Hogwarts dorm. He smiled at the memory as he walked back the way he came, a hand in his trouser pocket and his mind far away, at how impressive and select and magical — in the most pure, extraordinary way, a way those raised with magic would never understand — it seemed to him when he first arrived at Hogwarts. How plain and pure his happiness had been to be away from wicked muggles, to learn that he was special and that greatness, surely, called to him…

The narrow alleyway he slid through opened into the wide and brilliant Piazza di Trevi. The fountain cast its net of water flowing down like gossamer. Tom stopped to thread his fingertips through its shivering pool and sprinkled a little bit of water over the hot crown of his head before walking on.

He had a vague idea of where he was, and what street he should turn on to return to his hotel before sunset.

His steps stopped almost on their own when his eyes fell on his reflection in the darkened glass of a store window — body tall and lean, chest blushing red, hair falling in his eyes with sweat. Beyond it, a flock of books on stout old wooden shelves. How interesting… Tom shifted his jacket from his elbow to his shoulder as he leaned forward to read. They were quite old volumes, judging by the typefaces and the engravings on display, and some he recognised as classic esoterica.

He looked at the sign above the door: Casa Ur. A reference to ancient Sumer? He looked past the glass more carefully, his every instinct pulling him toward this strange collection. If he was right, and they were real, then they were very old indeed. What carelessness, to keep them in such a place, hot and humid and likely infested by an entomologist’s dream collection of mites and moths and other pests.

Then he looked past his own reflection, past all the books, and there, in the middle of it all like a pale shadow between the shelves, he saw a woman. She was braced against a wooden desk, standing as he often did at Burkes when he was tired. She wore some sort of lady’s suit he couldn’t quite make out, and a string of silver shone dully at her neck like a wet trail of kisses. Her fingers were poised atop the pages of a ledger.

She was staring at him.

Tom let his gaze glide off her figure and back toward the books, keeping his cold and haughty look a moment longer before stepping away again.

How interesting… Why had none of the other shopkeepers mentioned it before? This was perhaps the first store he gave any serious consideration, and to think he’d found it all by accident…

The place had promise, but the building was far too large and far too old for rent there to be cheap — which meant the books were bound to be expensive. If they weren’t facsimiles or forgeries, then they deserved their price, but places like that also tended to be quite selective of their clientele, and Tom knew nobody in Rome who’d vouch for him. And as for his fake muggle money, that would only go so far…

What was worse, he had no way of reaching back to Borgin and Burkes. Knowing no other wizards in Rome, he had nobody to borrow an owl from, if that was even what they used in these climes, and the closest wizarding community he knew was down in Sicily. Muggle modes of communication wouldn’t reach Knownturn Alley, and international phone calls were awfully expensive. Tom was on his own.

“Well, there’s more than one way to skin a Puffskein,” he said to himself.

Before he turned the corner, he looked up at the wall and took note of the street he was just on: Via dell'Umiltà.

She started closing up the shop earlier than usual that day. Maybe it was because they’d only had two customers. Maybe because it was inordinately hot… Or maybe because of that handsome stranger who gazed through her window two hours before.

She felt unprofessional for staring, for letting her eyes wander down his fit frame tall and slender like a serpent… With his crisp white shirt liberally peeled back at the neck, his dark curls falling into his eyes, jacket casually hanging from his elbow and a silver ring around his finger, those charcoal trousers sitting so tightly on his slender hips and —

That was as far as she could see before he walked away.

She gathered her things slowly, waiting for evening to come and the streets to cool a little. She locked everything up and called downstairs to announce that she was leaving.

Stepping forth from that dark hole of history and out into the world again, she was greeted by a Rome painted in royal red. The sun was setting. As she walked by the Trevi fountain she could feel the steam that rose from the sprinkling on the stones playing around her ankles. The pigeons flew up with a fright, rustling through the air. People gathered in the square and cast around her a sea of murmurs in Italian and other foreign tongues. It was all foreign to her, of course, or rather she was foreign to it.

She could never quite fit in with the locals, however comfortable she felt there. Her accent always gave her away, and whatever the Italian “look” was, she didn’t have it — or perhaps strangers stared at her for other reasons, glances lingering behind so heavy she could feel them every time she did her shopping in her little neighbourhood, or went to lunch with her librarian and antiquary friends around the area. No matter what she did, what she wore, or how she did her hair, she remained a ‘straniera’. But that was alright. She didn’t mind being a little strange.

The pretty and ancient parts of Rome disintegrated, façades falling apart, pediments crumbling, cobblestones popping out of the eternal roads. The streets looked very different a few tram hops later as she made her way toward her rented flat. People looked the same though. The young ones were in the street, the women laboured around the house, the nonnas at the market, and the men all off at work.

But no matter the day, whenever she left for the bookshop or returned from it, the cafés were always full. People gazed out from beneath their striped little umbrellas, drinking from a thick white cup of coffee or sipping on a glass of wine, reading the news, petting their dogs, chatting with each other… It made her feel like life was passing by.

Then again, she had no mood for going out for coffee, not when she came home with her feet aching and her back sore. Even though all she had to do that day was sort out the books and fill the ledgers and occasionally deal with clients, the workday left her feeling battered. Besides, she had no one to go out with anyway…

Her work was solitary, and the friends she’d made were few — fellow book dealers and curators, all of whom were as busy as she was. And whenever they did meet during the occasional break, the only thing they talked about was work. There was no room left in anybody’s life for something different.

The cellar bar across the street from where she lived was already rumbling with a hint of lonely jazz, and the solid voice of men. The sound echoed past the old restaurant and bookshop near it that had been closed for years, and the rows of cheap apartments filled with working families. Out from underneath a shrub, a cat cut through her path. She stopped and almost called to it, but it ran through a hole in the wall of the neighbouring building. Getting out of the heat, perhaps.

Her building was cool on the inside for the instant it took to climb the two sets of stairs to her door, but then she stepped into her flat and it was like walking into an oven. Sunlight streamed through her windows all day, and no amount of curtains stopped the heat that built up there.

She peeled her clothes off her body before she even reached the bedroom, limping slightly all the way from the pain at her Achilles heel, and fell upon her bed face first. The shower could wait. Oh, what she would give for a massage… She rubbed her feet together as they hung over the side, and smiled at the fantasy of a pair of cold hands rubbing down her back.

She wondered what that handsome stranger was doing now…

Was he Italian? Unlikely given his pallor, although he had the same dark hair and eyes as all the locals did, and none of the whimsical, lost look of tourists. And he was alone.

His gaze, as much as she could make of it, had been scathing and critical, and he hadn’t even said a word. She turned around on the bed, eyes still closed, as she imagined him there. She saw all manner of people in her work, and although most of them were old, there were a few still young, still handsome… Mostly students at the local universities. But nobody, nobody she’d met so far, had been quite as striking as that stranger.

Was it pointless to hope that he would come again?

It was easier to put herself together after resting for a while. Living alone provided her with no greater luxury than this: there was never any need to rush. Dinner consisted of a cup of tea and biscuits, which was more than what she usually had, paired with a few page flips from a novel she was reading that she could hardly pay attention to. But every paragraph and sentence, any image conjured up by fiction, was haunted by the contours of that young man’s face.

Her sleep that night was deep and intoxicating, like a faint, her body giving her up to vague nightmares she would not remember. But she had a fresh enthusiasm when she woke up the next day. She brewed a little coffee with a smile and let it cool while she took a shower, and even the rumbling of the pipes couldn’t scare her mood away.

It was a feeling that entered her like an old tenant returned to a forgotten home. She used to feel alive in a very similar way in the early days of her employment at Casa Ur, when she thought she was so lucky to be chosen to run it for Baron Agarda. And she was lucky, she knew that, but she no longer felt it. The only thing she felt these days was weary.

So why was she smiling today?

As she rode the tram, wind tousling her hair and chilling the heat off of her neck, and walked back to the shop to the happy murmurs of tourists and the flutter of pigeons, she found her thoughts returning to the same idea — would he come today too? She smiled like a besotted schoolgirl all the way to work.

That good mood mellowed as the day went on, and she fell back into the dour ritual of tending to the shop. The same books awaited her as yesterday, the same letters to prospective buyers, invitations, packages, deliveries… Only the visit of Sister Silvia could cheer her up, and they shared a cup of coffee over yesterday’s Corriere della Sera.

By lunchtime, she’d forgotten all about him. As if to distract her further, Federico called to invite her to their usual spot by the fountain for a lunch break, and there he talked about the delicious anxiety he had from his own work. He was nice, she could not deny him that, and harmless, so it was no great effort on her part to listen. She indulged him, grateful not to have to respond at all, and afterwards, Fred walked her back to work with a feeling of deep satisfaction.

Work filled her days. The sort of work that never ends, that you never see the back of. Questions and ingratitude, files and lists and mess that builds up as soon as you misplace the smallest item. There was no hope, there was no end in sight, and she was so deep in these waters that there was no point in looking forward to anything at all.

So she was all the more surprised when three o’clock rolled around and there he was, walking through her door.

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