#happy new years stormy!

[pusheen]

[jukeboxofjellycat]

[piratefishmama]

Just ONE chance

Stephanie Harrington never intended to be a whole presence online.

She hadn’t even really understood the whole thing at first, it didn’t exist when she was a kid! An if it did it sure as hell wasn’t in every nook and cranny of the globe like it now seemed to be. Kids with iPads, hands glued to phones, six year olds who simply had to have the latest Apple thing.

It was all Dustin’s idea. King of the Gadget. Overseer of all things technology. Gargantuan nerd. Stevie’s little brother.

Not biologically, Claudia, Dustin’s mother had basically adopted Stevie when her own parents had tragically lost control of the wheel during a storm and wrapped their car around a tree back when Stevie was still a teenager. Back when Stevie was still Dustin’s regular babysitter and very suddenly found herself alone having been babysitting when the news reached her.

They’d been coming back from a business trip that she hadn’t been able to go with them on because of school. They’d been so close to home. She’d heard the sirens. They’d been that close.

It was fine though, in one fell swoop, yes she lost her parents, but she gained Claudia, and Dustin, and that was enough, because she sure as hell didn’t get anything else from them. It was all swallowed up, snatched away by her parents business partners because people are sharks and she just… wasn’t prepared to fight them on any of it, especially not when her parents had stupidly left her without a will.

Apparently they believed they’d live forever! The money vanished, the house was sold, she was left with nothing.

With growing up in the Henderson house, came choices, some great, some really stupid, and some that’d led to the very happy accident of Rosie.

To be fair to herself, she’d been in quite a long term relationship at that point! It was a happy one too! She’d thought he’d be it. Sure he’d been a lot rough around the edges, at the start, it’d been a shame cycle at the beginning since he was in fact, a colossal prick, but he was also the hottest guy she’d ever seen. Like, unfairly attractive considering his personality, and he knew exactly how to touch her to melt her icy resolve into a watery mess.

But once he’d gotten away from his dipshit of a father, his step mother dragging him with her when she escaped the man too, once Stevie had laid down the law of how little of the bullshit he’d learned from said father she’d personally tolerate before he’d get a boot out the door, he’d come around.

The racism had stopped immediately. The attitude had ebbed bit by bit as feelings set in, and he’d become a regular ol handsome teddy bear, he’d allowed himself to soften after he’d escaped the only reason he’d had to protect himself.

He’d even started getting along with his step sister, one of Dustin’s friends.

Then stupidity happened when they ran out of condoms, her cycles stopped, and three months in, two drunk idiots in a pickup ran a stoplight while he was getting her some ice cream. Doctors said he probably hadn’t felt a thing.

Rosie came along, a beautiful little thing, had her dad’s soft cheeks, his stormy eyes, thick dark lashes and soft curls, but she took after Stevie in everything else.

Stevie didn’t date after that. A personal choice really. She’d lost her parents, lost her love, and now she had a little girl to focus on, she was done. She felt herself complete! So what if she was still in her mid-twenties. Life had dealt her a hand, she was going to run with it.

Rosie would always come first, and she didn’t like explaining where Rosies father was, she didn’t like the look of pity on people’s faces, the apologies, the rinse and repeat cycle, and so she just. Didn’t bother!

It was easier! She had Rosie, she had her adoptive mother, she had Dustin, she had Billy’s sister Max and her other half Lucas, she had Susan, she had Robin, her co-worker and platonic soulmate from that dumb job at the mall she’d picked up to help Claudia with the bills, she had a whole support network, and she was fine.

Soon Rosie was in preschool, and then middle school, and the internet became a household thing, houses had computers, kids had phones, then smartphones, laptops, tablets, and suddenly the internet was everywhere and everyone had to be on it.

So there she was now. Mid-thirties, with a little girl, and a house paid for by her little brother.

Dustin had struck gold with a job at NASA, he’d put the downpayment on a little two bed house with a cute picket fence lined garden for her when Rosie was born without consulting her, just did it and “SURPRISE STEVIE, now get the hell out of mom’s basement, Jesus Christ.�� Kept paying until it was all hers, and that was that… until he came round with computers and gadgets and then she had the internet because Rosie would need it for school because while libraries were awesome he’d had to suffer the five books at a time, Dustin rule one too many times and the internet had UNLIMITED books.

And now Stevie had a smart phone, and apps, and Instagram was fun! Doomscrolling the FYP took up chunks of her days off work while Rosie was at school! She never intended to be a name on there. She’d heard that people could become known for stuff, go viral or whatever.

She never intended to do that. She was a mother. Not even a hot young mom either. She was in her thirties! She remembered when the world didn’t have internet, she was there.

She posted work out videos, never having lost the competitive streak she’d always had as a teenager, sports were her thing back in high school, Gymnastics specifically, which led into cheering. She’d done some competition once with the team but nothing huge, she was fit, healthy, and the subject of many a thirst comment that she pointedly ignored.

She’d posted the occasional rant about Sally the PTA bitch with the self-proclaimed “best potato salad in the State” while doing her morning makeup, still never paying much mind to the comments section, the little rapidly climbing number that signalled followers, or the occasional DM from brands wanting to ‘collab’.

She didn’t care for that, she just wanted to post her little videos in peace. In retrospect, if peace was what she wanted, the lunch trend… probably wasn’t the best one to pick up. It was just a trend though! She’d seen a few moms doing it! Just posting little harmless videos online of what they’d pack their kids for lunch every day!

Harmless, fun! She loved making Rosies lunches, she saw no harm in sharing the fun!

They were always affordable, packed with healthy options, and creative too! She tried her hand at sushi, Rosie hated it, Robin loved it, so Robin got the sushi rolls in her lunches instead, picked up every morning when she grabbed Rosie on the way into work, they were both going to the same place after all, Robin taking on the music teacher role at the Middle school Rosie attended.

She tried noodle jars, cool wraps, made shapes and fun little animals out of fruit, she got creative, but they were all very cookie cutter videos, they all had the same vibe, similar content, it was something to fill her free time that she enjoyed so never in a million years would she have ever predicted that ONE of them, would cause so much chaos.

It started with the beeping.

The incessant pings sometime in the early hours of the morning. Notifications on her phone going off one after the other until she was forced to sit up, bleary eyed, and stare with squinted eyes at the far too bright screen of her phone, then she silenced it and went back to sleep.

With the chaos of the morning routines, getting Rosie up, washed, dressed, packed up for school, and out the door, she didn’t think about the incessant little beeping she’d silenced. It was a distant memory buried under the fog of a heavy sleep and continued to be a distant memory right up until Dustin appeared at her doorstep at around one in the afternoon midway through her afternoon workout, ruffled, stressed, flustered, and frankly just a little too sweaty.

He bypassed all niceties, as usual, bulldozing straight to the point, he pinpointed her phone, which sat comfortably on the countertop, seemingly oh so innocent, grabbed it, brandished it up as if to highlight its very existence and just “Woman, do you LOOK, AT YOUR PHONE?!”

Now, Stevie was not in the business of accepting a tone like that, especially not from her little brother. No matter how much he’d shelled out for the house, the attitude had to go. “Tone problem you little shit, fix it now or get the fuck out of this house and try again later.”

To his credit, he took a breath, and fixed it “Sorry, I’m sorry, but—look! Look at it, please, for the love of Christ, the internet is freaking out.”

“What?”

“Your video yesterday! The one with the like… teddy bear thing you did? With the rice an the—”

“Rosies lunch?”

“Yeah! Have you seen the comments on it?” Stevie rolled her eyes and went about picking up her things, workout sufficiently disrupted, she wouldn’t be able to pick that pace back up now. “Stevie?”

“You know I don’t look at those, people get weird on the internet, it’s like it gives weirdos the perfect place to be their weirdest selves and not in a good way.” She’d looked at them once, curiosity had gotten the better of her once upon a time and wound up having to ask Max what ‘OF?’ meant. She’d taken the win, let it momentarily boost her self-confidence, and decided to never look again. She was done with all that.

“Stevie, this time… one of those weirdos, is famous.” Since it was the age of the internet, Stevie regarded him with a look of disinterest, ‘famous’ could be anything, it could be some dweeb behind a computer screaming obscenities at a mic hooked up to some ridiculously overpriced gaming PC for likes. It could be a podcast bro with half a brain cell kicking its long since dead other half, it could be—“rockstar famous.” Dustin clarified. “One of the guys from that band I like? Corroded Coffin, they just—” he swiped the phone, letting out a soft scoff as the screen just flicked to life, no security pin to be seen of course, no matter, he’d probably berate later, he had a video to find and—“Ah-hah! Look!” and a phone to once again shove into his big sister’s face.

“That’s not even my video!”

“I know! They took the comment down already, but it’s EVERYWHERE, look!” Someone had screenshots. It wasn’t just one video covering it, Dustin scrolled, another popped up soon after, someone getting a little too excited about what was probably the most unfortunate of accidents.

“Don’t they have like… I dunno, people running their accounts? A person? Maybe their internet person just forgot to log out of that account?”

“No! Eddie runs it! The guitarist? Eddie Munson, he usually runs it all himself so everyone thinks it’s him, AND—AND LOOK!” Dustin clicked on the Corroded Coffin’s account, then tapped on the most recent post. Just a big black square, with the word ‘Whoops’ in big bold white lettering, captioned ‘I regret nothing. Just ONE chance, sweetheart, just one.’ With a little prayer hands emoji. “He’s ASKING you out!”

“He’s being a freak on the internet” hands found her hips, the classic mom pose. Immovable, stubborn.

“He’s always a freak! But he’s really cool! He does like, Make A Wish stuff, and—and visits children’s hospitals dressed up like fantasy characters, and he runs DnD things on the account every few months an he’s just REALLY cool, I mean they’re all really cool but Eddie is really cool maybe—maybe you could—”

“Upend my life, Rosie’s life, for a guy I don’t know, who has a job that takes him all over the world, who probably has his pick of whoever the hell he wants so what exactly could I bring to the table to keep him around? I’m done with all that shit, Dusty… I had my time, I have Rosie, I have everything I need. What makes you think I’d even like him?”

“You liked Billy.”

“Get out.”

“No, wait, not like that, I mean, they’re the same! Well, okay, not the same, Eddie didn’t start out a giant prick an he’s never been racist, but they’re sorta similar, similar music tastes, shit fathers, he’s rough round the edges, lil scary looking sometimes but he’s just a big softie when you get past the whole, scary dog thing. Eddie’s like… if Billy never had a shit dad. I just think that maybe… if you looked him up, maybe you’d… I dunno, you’d like him… maybe he’d be your kind of guy… maybe you could finally find someone who appreciates you… you’re not supposed to be on your own, Stevie.”

“Yeah well, I’m not. I have Rosie, and Robin, an you guys… an y’know. Bob.”

“Bob?” One of her patented looks told him all he needed to know, he jerked back in revulsion “ew! God! Fine, could you just! I dunno, look him up or something? Just think about it, I swear he’s really cool an I’d—”

“You’d love free tickets to their next concert.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Alright then, nice to see you Dustin. Always a pleasure to have you round, please get the hell out of my house.” 

“UggGGGGGHHHHH, STEVIIIIEEE!!!”

“Uggghh, DUSTIIIIN! You interrupted my work out for internet pervert nonsense.” She began shooing him toward the door “Shoo, shoo. I have a family sized bar of chocolate to work off my hips before it gets stuck there.”

“He’d love your hips! With the addition of chocolate bars or not!”

“Weird! Out!” Out the door he went, it closed behind him.

That of course didn’t stop him from yelling through the door, “Just look him up!! I promise you won’t regret it!” But she mostly ignored him, until he went away.

Mostly because… Dustin never spoke up in favour of men before. He’d even gone through a period of hinting at maybe just switching sides and dating Robin when he found out Robin was a lesbian, but both women had promptly shut that down every single time he tried bringing it up.

He wasn’t a huge fan of men.

He’d been raised by a strong independent woman, he’d had a strong female role model in Stevie who’d pushed through every trauma life had thrown at her, he had Robin, he had Max, Jane, Erica, he had Nancy his friend Mike’s older sister, one of his friends had also been raised by a strong independent woman, he’d been surrounded by strong women his entire life with only one real solid male figure.

And that was his middle school science teacher, Scott Clarke. Which was kind of sad when you thought about it.

For him to really vouch for a man, it meant something! It wasn’t something to ignore, even if every instinct Stevie had told her to just. Leave it. What kind of man could a rockstar lifestyle have created. What kind of red flags could Eddie Munson be hiding that Dustin couldn’t (or didn’t want to) see.

Did he really even mean it?

Was it actually Eddie, and not someone else from the band? Would she be seen as foolish for even entertaining the thought? It wasn’t like she’d ever paid attention to the bands Dustin liked, so surely nobody would see her as a weird fan for thinking about it, right? She didn’t even approach him!

He approached her!

Shit like that didn’t just happen though. Or did it? Could it? Was she stupid to even entertain the thought?

Before she knew it, it was time to pick Rosie up, and she hadn’t even finished her work out. it was fine, her hips could handle a chocolate bar. For now. Its days were numbered.

[thenerdykneazle]

Amorous Tension

Summary: Poppy is quite sure her best friend has feelings for our favourite heir of Slytherin. MC is quite sure she doesn't, despite abundant evidence to the contrary. When Ominis asks MC to help him study for an upcoming potions exam, she jumps at the chance. TL;DR: Two idiots in love brew amortentia together.

A collab with the lovely @darch7995, who created the audio version of this story. Listen to the first part here and the second here.

Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

Warnings: the mildest of hand kinks, kissing, a surprising amount of schoolwork, stressing about exams, failure to communicate

Word count: 4185

You tapped your quill anxiously on the edge of your parchment, forming an ever-growing blot of ink in the margin. You were re-reading a paragraph in Flesh-Eating Trees of the World on a South American anteater-eating shrub. The words made as little of an impression in your mind as they had the first time.

A hand settled on top of yours, startling you.

“You’re going to put a hole in the table if you keep that up. And I doubt Madam Scribner would be pleased,” Poppy said teasingly.

You sighed, setting down the quill before dropping your head onto the table. “I’m going to fail. I know nothing. Less than nothing, even. Garlick is going to laugh me out of the greenhouse,” you said hopelessly.

Poppy rubbed your back comfortingly. “No, she’s not,” she assured you.

You let out a frustrated groan. “I’m never learning the difference between Jacaranda muscipula and Delonix geogalinivorae. They’re both just bloodthirsty ferns.”

A smooth voice came from behind you. “Jacaranda muscipula is native to South America, and its diet consists largely of deer mice. Delonix geogalinivorae is found in Madagascar and feeds exclusively on tenrecs.”

Your head shot up off the table. “Ominis,” you said in a higher pitch than you’d intended. You twisted in your chair to see your aristocratic classmate standing there looking effortlessly flawless.

“Hello, MC, Poppy,” he said with a pleasant smile. “I take it you’re dreading Garlick’s exam as much as Sebastian is.”

You scrunched your nose. “More, probably,” you said dismally.

“Well, I had come to see if you might be able to help me study for Sharp’s exam on Monday,” he said. “I could help you with herbology after. Of course, I’d be happy to help even if you don’t have time for potions practice.”

You gaped at him. He was asking you for help? Amit and Sebastian both had top grades in potions. You’d taken to it quite well, but the two boys had several more years of experience than you did. Garreth knew every ingredient and recipe inside and out, though he almost never stuck to the instructions – you could see why Ominis wouldn’t have asked him for help.

Your stomach leapt at the idea of spending time at the bench – just you and Ominis, brushing elbows at the cosy workspace. It was always dizzying being in such close proximity – the effect of his expensive cologne, surely.

Poppy would probably argue differently. She’d just been pestering you just that morning about your alleged feelings for the sarcastic Slytherin.

“You’re the biggest flirt I’ve ever met, MC,” Poppy said, rolling her eyes as you walked to the Great Hall.

Garreth had just been talking to you out in the courtyard about needing to acquire Thornback Matriarch venom for a new potion he was working on. You had told him he’d probably be better equipped than you were at charming the ladies into giving him what he wanted.

“I think you’re jealous and just need to ask the Gryffindor out, already,” you argued, shooting her a quelling look. “I was just being funny.”

“Mhmm,” she replied sceptically. “Well, I think it’s funny how I’ve seen you flirt with Garreth, Leander, Sebastian, Amit, and even Imelda, but when a certain serpent with stormy eyes and chiselled cheekbones comes around, you turn into a frightened little puffskein. You go all ruddy-faced and start stammering.”

She was poorly suppressing a smirk as she looked at you.

You scoffed. “I do not stammer!”

“Yeah, and I don’t fancy Garreth,” she replied sarcastically. “Admit it, you’ve got a crush on Ominis.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you asserted, glaring at her.

She raised a hand to her lips to stifle a giggle. “Then why’s your face match Garreth’s luscious locks right now?”

“Oh, shut it!” you said, increasing your pace so that Poppy fell behind.

She just laughed at you. “You’re only proving my point, you know!” she called after you.

Poppy elbowed you sharply between your ribs. You’d gone far too long without replying. “Ow!” you hissed at her.

Ominis had a nervous look on his face. “Sorry?” he asked.

“Oh, no, that wasn’t at you,” you said quickly. “I mean, I’d love to study with you.”

His expression immediately brightened. “Wonderful! When are you free?” he said.

“How about now?” you suggested as you began to pack up your things.

“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt,” Ominis said.

“No, it’s fine,” you insisted. You shot Poppy a reproachful look. “I’m suddenly feeling unsafe here in the library.”

Poppy stuck her tongue out at you. “Yes, I need to go help Professor Howin feed the thestrals, anyway. You two have fun,” she said much too giddily.

You sent her one more glare as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “So, shall we use the Room of Requirement?” you asked Ominis.

“That sounds perfect!” he replied brightly.

You led Ominis out of the library and started the long climb up to the 7th floor of the astronomy tower. You were glad to stretch your legs after sitting in the library for so long.

“I don’t know how you can keep those carnivorous trees straight in your head,” you commented as you strode down a long corridor. “They look exactly the same to me when they’re not in bloom.”

“Do they?” he replied, sounding intrigued.

For a moment, you wanted to sink through the floor. Obviously, the fact that the two trees looked alike was of little consequence to him. “Sorry, I wasn’t even thinking.”

Ominis chuckled. “It’s all right,” he said, clearly amused. “It’s strange to think that they seem so similar to you. They feel quite different. The jacaranda tree has very rough bark, and the geogalinivore has waxy leaves. Plus, it has a sweet smell – sort of like oranges.”

“That’s actually very helpful. Thank you,” you said.

He smiled softly at you. You couldn’t help but notice how one of the beauty marks on his left cheek disappeared into his dimple when he smiled. “I’m glad to be of service,” he replied.

You could feel your face flush, though you had no reason to be blushing. You were relieved when you reached the 7th floor and the door to the Room of Requirement appeared. You cleared your throat. “Right, well, we’re h-here,” you said, cringing at yourself for tripping over the words.

Ominis held the door open for you as you entered the Room of Requirement. “I appreciate you helping me practice. Sharp’s class was hard enough when I knew what I’d be expected to brew. Having to prepare to make any one of four potions has been quite stressful.”

“It is a bit ridiculous,” you agreed as you started pulling ingredients out of your cabinet.

“Honestly! It’s hard enough keeping the ingredients for one potion straight – let alone for the Elixir to Induce Euphoria, Draught of Living Death, Veritaserum, and Amortentia,” he said.

“It is a lot,” you said. “Where should we start?”

“Hm…Well, I don’t think I would be very productive after testing potions for sleep or euphoria. We’d best leave those for later,” he replied. “What do you think? Amortentia or Veritaserum?”

“Amortentia’s easy enough to test. We can tell if it’s right just by how it looks and smells. Let’s start with that,” you suggested.

Ominis smirked. “You just don’t want me getting you to spill all your secrets,” he teased.

You chuckled. “You’re right; I don’t,” you agreed honestly. You weren’t exactly a secretive person ever since you didn’t have to hide your ancient magic anymore. However, the thought of not being ableto hide anything if you wanted to was terrifying.

“Amortentia it is, then!” Ominis said. “It’s the one I’m best at, anyway.”

He lit the flame to heat the cauldron before beginning to grind the moonstone with a mortar and pestle.

“So, what does Amortentia smell like to you?” he asked, chatting as he worked.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted as you leaned a hip against the bench.

“What do you mean you’re not sure? Were you holding your breath when we brewed it last week?” he teased. He cracked two ashwinder eggs into the cauldron before adding the powdered moonstone and stirring it together.

“No! I just…Well, I guess it’s that it doesn’t smell like anything to me,” you admitted.

“You must be joking. Surely you smelled something,” he replied incredulously.

“Just the usual musky dungeon,” you joked. “I thought I’d just brewed it wrong at first, but yours didn’t smell like anything to me, either.”

His brows drew together. “That is curious. I know I made mine right, because it…Well, it worked for me,” he said, his cheeks colouring a bit. “Do you just not find anyone attractive, then?” he added casually as he began cutting the thorns off of some rose stems.

“I don’t know. I mean, I used to think I did, but…now I’m not so sure,” you replied. “I don’t know what could be wrong with me to not smell anything if I did like someone.”

“I’m certain there’s nothing wrong with you, MC,” Ominis replied.

You sighed. “I hope not,” you replied before biting your bottom lip anxiously. “I thought maybe everyone was lying about smelling different things, and it’s really just an odourless potion. But I checked three different texts in the library, and they all said the same thing Professor Sharp did about the smell being unique to what each person finds attractive.”

“It’s definitely not odourless,” Ominis replied with a smirk. He shook his head as if to snap himself out of something before clearing his throat. He turned his attention back to the potion.

He added the thorns to the cauldron before beginning on the petals. You watched his hands as he plucked the petals off the stems, stacked them neatly, and rolled them together before slicing them into thin, even strips. He was quite skilled in his technique. Despite sharing a bench in potions all year, you’d never really noticed how fluidly he worked. There was an almost entrancing nature to the graceful movements.

“So, what does it smell like to you?” you inquired as you forced yourself to stop staring at the veins winding over his wrists and across the backs of his hands out to his slender fingers. You had always thought there was something nice about his hands.

“Oh, there is no way I’m admitting that,” he replied.

“But I told you when you asked,” you argued.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Nothing doesn’t count as an answer.”

“But it’s the truth! I can’t help that I didn’t smell anything,” you argued.

“I’m still not telling,” he insisted. He added the rose petals to the potion. His brow furrowed as his fingers skimmed over the fronts of several bottles. “Which is the pearl dust?”

“Third from the right,” you said before letting out a laugh as a realisation struck you.

“What?” he asked a bit defensively. “Did I grab the wrong one?” He shook the sealed bottle by his ear to listen to its contents shift within.

“No, that’s the pearl dust. I just…” You giggled again, and his scowl deepened. “I just realised that’s the last ingredient and the first thing I’ve helped you with. Seems like you barely need me here.”

He relaxed almost instantly, even laughing a bit himself. “Well, it’s much easier to brew here,” he explained. “I know which ingredients are which when they’re in my own containers – and even most of yours at this point – but almost all of Sharp’s bottles are identical. I have to figure out what’s in each one every time I pick it up. Sometimes it takes four or five tries to find what I’m looking for. It wastes so much time.”

“That sounds extremely frustrating,” you said sympathetically.

“It is,” he lamented as he added a spoonful of pearl dust to the cauldron. He stirred it clockwise three times before lowering the flame. “There! It should just need to simmer for a bit, and then we’ll see how it turned out.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect,” you said as you settled into a high-backed chair, kicking your feet up on the ottoman in front of it.

“I appreciate your confidence in me,” he said. “You know, I was even worse at potions when I was younger. I tried summoning the ingredients to myself in the early years, and it was usually a disaster. In first year, we had to brew a burn salve during our exams, and I simply could not find the dittany, even after sifting through all the ingredients on my bench three times. I gave up and summoned it, and it knocked over all the bottles in front of it on its way to me. They rolled all over the bench, and I had nearly plunged my hand straight into my cauldron trying to put them back in order. During another exam, I tried to summon flobberworm mucus, and all the bottles of the stuff came flying towards me at the same time.” He laughed. “It was all over me, my bench, the floor. Amit nearly slipped in it trying to come over and help. Professor Sharp was livid, but I think he felt too badly for me to give me detention.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, as well. “Oh, I’d have died on the spot!” you said.

“I nearly did. It was utterly horrifying,” he said. “I pretended to be sick for three days after that because I couldn’t stand the thought of facing everyone. I even had Sebastian bring me food so that I didn’t have to go out to the Great Hall. But I’ve learned to bounce back from my Blind Boy Moments quite quickly since.”

“Could Sharp not just label the ingredients for you?” you asked.

Ominis scoffed. “No, he insists that every good potions student should be able to identify the ingredients on their own,” he said, exasperated. “He wouldn’t even let me come in beforehand to label them myself because other students might see them. He also won’t let me use my own containers because it’s all got to be ‘standardised’ so it’s fair.”

“Well, that’s quite the opposite of fair! He’s putting you at a disadvantage,” you said. You could feel yourself getting angry on Ominis’s behalf.

“I am perfectly capable of identifying the ingredients. Just because I can’t see them doesn’t mean I’m incompetent,” he said bitterly.

You were taken aback as his ire turned toward you. “I wasn’t trying to imply that you are, Ominis, I swear!” you said earnestly. “It just seems unreasonable that he won’t accommodate you at all. It’s so frustrating. I have an uncle who’s blind. He wasn’t born that way – he had an accident. And he’s a Muggle. So…it’s a bit different, obviously. But he’s worked in kitchens all his life. When he first went blind, he couldn’t cook anymore. But his boss’s wife, Marjorie, was blind, too. She taught him how to navigate the kitchen again without being able to see. They made adjustments to things so he could keep working there.”

“You have a blind uncle?” he asked, seeming shocked.

“Almost all my life. He married my aunt when I was just a baby,” you explained. “He cooks even better than a house-elf, too! Don’t tell Feenky I said that, though. Or Deek, for that matter.”

“I can’t believe you have a blind uncle,” Ominis said, still stunned.

“Really?” you asked. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never met another blind person,” he said.

“Never?” you said, surprised.

“Not once,” he confirmed. “My parents weren’t exactly looking to find me a support group. It’s exceptionally rare in the wizarding world, anyway. So, they sort of just kept me hidden away until school. They hadn’t even expected I’d get a letter even though I clearly had magic. It wasn’t until I figured out how to navigate by wand that they stopped treating me like a doll instead of a child. Even my Aunt Noctua was rather overbearing. No one ever believed I could do something myself until I showed them I could.”

“I can’t imagine how difficult it was going through all of that on your own,” you said.

Ominis gave a haughty huff. “Yes, well, I think I’ve done all right for myself,” he said firmly, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

“You’ve done more than all right, I’d say,” you argued. “Which reminds me, you still have to tutor me in herbology after this.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry; I haven’t forgotten,” he said.

“You’d better not have,” you said sternly. Your severe expression didn’t last, though. You couldn’t help but smile around him. “Wait, so, if you didn’t have anyone to help you figure things out, did you invent the spell that lets you read books?”

“Ah, well, I suppose I wasn’t entirely on my own. Sebastian found that spell in an old tome in the library. Some languorous 17th-century scholar grew weary of having to keep his eyes open whilst reading,” he replied. “It worked quite well in my favour.”

“If there’s one thing Sebastian excels at, it’s research,” you replied.

“Yes, and it’s been both a blessing and a curse in my life,” he said irritably.

“I feel the same,” you said wearily.

Ominis spun back toward the potions station. “It smells like the potion’s ready,” he announced.

You got up and walked over to inspect it. “Mother-of-pearl sheen. Perfect spirals of steam. Excellent work, indeed, Ominis.”

He blushed at your praise. “Any essence of musky dungeon emanating from it?” he joked.

You laughed. You leaned over the cauldron and breathed in deeply to play along. “Oh,” you said, caught off guard by the smell. “Yeah, actually. It…” You took in another breath. It was masked beneath the cologne Ominis was wearing, but you could distinctly smell the cool, earthy scent that permeated the lower levels of the castle. “It does.”

“Merlin, MC! You don’t have a crush on Professor Sharp, do you?” he asked, aghast.

“Gods, no!” you replied immediately. “It’s not the dungeons, anyway. It’s different. But…familiar.”

You tried to smell it again, but it was still too hard to tell. You hadn’t realised earlier just how strong Ominis’s cologne was that day. Usually, you found the scent rather pleasant, but, currently, it was making it extremely difficult to smell anything else. You grabbed a phial and poured some of the potion into it. “I can’t tell what it is. I need to smell it in fresh air.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I smell foul?” Ominis demanded as you walked away from him.

“No, not at all,” you said before taking another sniff of the potion. “It’s just that your–”

Your voice died in your throat as two realisations struck you simultaneously. The first was that the earthy scent you had identified was the exact smell of the Undercroft. The second was that you still smelled Ominis’s cologne just as strongly even though you were on the opposite side of the room from him. The phial slipped from your hand and shattered on the wood floor.

“Are you all right?” Ominis asked, rushing over to you in a panic. “Did the potion burn you? I heard glass break. Did you get cut?”

He took both of your hands in his to feel for any injuries. The tips of his fingers brushed gently over your skin, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

“Sorry, no, I’m fine. I just–I hadn’t realised…something,” you said. You heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Poppy had been right. You did fancy Ominis.

Ominis released one of your hands to raise his to your cheek. “Are you certain that you’re okay, MC?” he asked.

Your skin burned hot under his touch. “Y-yes, of course. I was just surprised when I placed the smell,” you said.

He tilted his head in interest. “Oh? What is it?” he asked.

You bit into your lower lip, keeping yourself silent as you wavered on whether to confess. He did seem to be rather doting at the moment. You wondered if he might return your affections.

“Perhaps I should’ve brewed the Veritaserum first, after all,” Ominis joked. “Maybe then I could finally get you to tell me what you smell.”

You laughed. “That’s not necessary. I just…Well, I’m pretty sure it’s, um…the Undercroft,” you said. Your nerves increased with every word, but you felt a flood of relief after getting them all out.

“Oh,” Ominis said uncomfortably. His whole body went rigid before his hands dropped away from you. “I…I see.”

“Ominis, I…” you started, trying and failing to figure out how to take the words back. You imagined the mortification you were experiencing was similar to how he had felt standing covered in flobberworm mucus in front of his peers.

“Well, I suppose I should still tell you what I smell, since you told me what you do,” he said sombrely. “Though, I can’t imagine it will be all that surprising.” He took a steadying breath. “It smells like old parchment, like those dusty pages Professor Weasley had you collecting last year. And I smell the mallowsweet you always carry around with you. And your shampoo. I always smell it when you hug me or fall asleep with your head on my shoulder.” He cleared his throat. “So…there you have it.”

“Are you upset about this?” you asked, bewildered by his tense reaction.

He forced a laugh. “What? No, of course not!” he insisted, but it wasn’t quite convincing. “I’m happy for you.”

“Happy for me?” you repeated, even more confused.

“Both of you, I mean,” he clarified, giving you a pained smile. “Although I’ve never asked Sebastian about his feelings toward you, with the way he flirts with you, I’m sure he reciprocates.”

“You think I fancy Sebastian?” you asked.

“Well, he’s the one who showed you the Undercroft,” he replied simply.

“Ominis, you’re the one he learned about it from. You’re the one I hang out with there. It’s rosewood and jasmine from your cologne that I smell in that bloody potion!” you said.

His brows knit together in confusion. “I thought you just smelled the Undercroft?” he said.

“Well, that’s what I thought when I was standing next to you – and in class last week,” you said. “You were right there, so I didn’t realise the smell of you was coming from the cauldron instead of…you know…you.”

His features went slack. “Oh…” he said awkwardly.

“Yeah…” you replied similarly.

“I’m a massive idiot,” he said, shaking his head at himself.

You smiled. “Yeah,” you said. “We kind of both are, aren’t we?”

“It would appear so,” he agreed. He laughed as he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Well, this has certainly been an illuminating study session.”

You melted into him instantly. “Indeed, it has.”

“You smell wonderful, you know,” he said as he nuzzled his nose against yours.

You giggled in response. “You smell quite nice, as well,” you replied.

“I taste even better,” he said cheekily.

Your gaze immediately dropped to his lips. “Is that so?” you asked, your voice coming out husky.

“I can prove it if you’d like,” he said. His breath fanned over your lips as he spoke.

“Yes, I think you should,” you replied. “For…educational purposes.”

Ominis’s lips brushed against yours almost tentatively before he leaned in to interlock them. His heat sank into your body as he held you firmly against his chest. You snaked your arms up behind his neck as you kissed him back. Being held by Ominis – and kissed by him – felt right. You wanted to stay wrapped in his arms forever. If you could’ve, you would have fused into him so you never had to be apart again.

You didn’t know how long it was before Ominis broke the kiss, but you knew it was too soon. “I still have to return the favour for you helping me with potions,” he said.

“Yes, right. The herbology,” you replied, still breathless from the kiss. You had forgotten about those bloody shrubs altogether.

“Actually, I was thinking we should work on divination, instead,” he said innocently, but there was a hint of a smirk on his lips.

You arched a brow at him. “Oh?” you asked. “Are you even taking divination?”

“No. I can’t exactly read tea leaves or look in a crystal ball,” he stated. The smirk spread on his lips. “But if I could, I’d see me in your future.”

You laughed. “You’ve been spending too much time with Sebastian,” you chided. “His terrible jokes are rubbing off on you.”

“You’re absolutely right, darling!” he said with a false gravity to the words. “I’d like to fix that as soon as possible by spending more time with you, instead.”

“I’d like that,” you said, unable to stop beaming at him.

“Me, too. Especially if it involves kissing you again,” he said.

You blushed. “I think that could be arranged,” you replied.

[inkdrinkerworld]

best friends to lovers with sirius x reader PLEASEE love the touchy bsf james fics sm

I’m making this touchy bsf!sirius and shy!reader!!

Something about being close to Sirius amps up your shyness. It doesn’t help that you’re always together because your friend circles overlap.

Right now, you’re hosting early Christmas dinner for all your friends because they’re all off to their family- everyone but you and Sirius ironically, but you’re trying not to focus on that too much.

“Poppet!” Sirius’ call echos through your apartment and finds you in the kitchen where you’re taking your bread out the oven.

“In the kitchen Siri,” you say, not quite a shout but loud enough for him to hear. Your heart speeds up when you hear the click clack of his boots on your flooring.

“Happy early Christmas,” he says quietly, setting the bottles of mead, spiked eggnog (a recipe he had begged your mother to teach him many Christmases past), and sorrel.

His hands, now free, find your hips as you set the loaves on cooling racks.

“Happy early Christmas,” you echo, trying not to freak out at his proximity. It’s not unwanted and it’s been freely doled out to you for years, but you still can’t help but feel giddy and shy under his touch. Or his gaze, or well, just anything Sirius really.

“D’you need help with anything, poppet?” He asks, his cold rings running up your hip as he waits for your response.

“Can you pull the biscuits from the fridge? They’re the last thing to bake.”

Sirius nods, leaving you quickly and in the space of time it takes, all your friends come tumbling into your house.

James with the ham, Remus with turkey, Lily with a tofu dish, Marls and Dorcus with gifts.

Your house goes from quiet to lively in a matter of seconds and the boys set the table while you and the girls start drinking.

“Do you think Sirius will make a move on you?” Dorcus asks and you roll your eyes.

“We’re just friends,” you mutter, sipping your sorrel as your friends scoff. This is a conversation you’ve all had in many different ways.

You insist you’re friends and then Sirius goes on a does something not exactly too friendly.

“Dove? Can you come here a minute?” Remus calling you makes your eyebrows raise to your hairline.

“Yeah, Moony?” Sirius is already sitting in his self assigned seat- the one right beside yours- with a frown on his face. As you get closer, you notice he’s scowling and gritting his teeth.

That makes the nerves in your stomach churn a little more violently.

“Would you please tell Pads that you wouldn’t kiss him to ring in the New Year?” The girls laugh at the reasoning for Sirius’ sudden bad mood.

You frown. You hadn’t thought that was what he was gonna ask you. “Do you want to kiss me, Siri?” Sirius looks up at you instantly, eyes stormy.

“S’not about what he wants dove, do you wanna kiss him?”

You feel put on the spot and know Remus will drop it if you ask him to, but Sirius looks pensive. Like he’s on edge for your answer. Like he might combust and disintegrate if you refuse to kiss him.

Not like you would. He’s got lips that deserve to be kissed.

“Yeah I’d kiss him. Or let him kiss me, whichever way it has to go.”

Sirius perks right up, much to your friends’ delight. “We can start practicing now or when these lot leave if you like, poppet.”

[dameronology]

we can't be friends (steve rogers)

summary: based on we can't be friends by ariana grande

warnings: angst, swearing

sorry for being absent for six months. even more sorry that this is what i came back with. enjoy!

Being loved by Steve Rogers was like sunlight on a stormy day. Peaking through the clouds, encouraging you to come out of whatever shelter you'd chosen; letting you smell the fresh rain on the pavement as the light finally came through, taking back the water until next time. It was warm on your skin, right through to your bones and your heart and to your very soul. You could have basked in it forever.

The mornings were your favourite, waking up to golden alabaster skin, carved into his muscles. They were slightly scarred, with jagged pink marks of stab wounds and bullet skims and far too many near misses for you to be comfortable. Of course, he healed faster than most but when you were as trigger happy as Steve Rogers was, barely a mission went by when he didn't come home with some minor wound or another. Still, him being there was the most important part. He'd let out a sleepy little yawn and subconsciously roll over to hold you, taking him in his arms and pulling you to his chest. That was where you felt safest.

No matter how busy he was or how demanding work became, Steve always showed up. Flowers waiting for you on the counter after a bad day; ordering take out when you were ill and always making sure your favourite show was recorded on the DVR. You never even had to ask. He'd buy you new roses before your old ones had even began to wilt; had your busiest work days recorded in your phone calendar so that he could step up, even when his own job was pulling him across the country. That was the thing about Steve Rogers: he always showed up.

Until he didn't.

Being loved by Steve Rogers was like sunlight on a rainy day, but waiting for him to love you back was a never-ending storm. Rain pelting down, hammering onto your clothes and seeping through to your skin and your bones and eventually drowning your heart. There was no dry escape. No shelter to hide from the rain. You always felt it - the wet, the cold, the shivering - no matter how hard you tried to escape. There was no getaway from the realisation that he no longer loved you back, or from the 19 miscalled waiting on his phone, or from the dead roses wilted on your kitchen windowsill.

Long conversations about your future had turned into silent, screaming pauses. The arguments felt pointless. You could only beat a dead horse so many times before you realised it wasn't coming back to life.

You sat on opposite ends of the sofa now. Slept on different sides of the bed. Watched your favourite show in silence whilst he tapped away at his laptop, barely even bothered by your presence. He'd sat too a high standard for himself. It was one he couldn't keep, but even the bare minimum was a golden standard compared to what he was giving you these days.

"I'm done."

You'd surprised yourself more than anyone with the words. Steve had come home from work late again. The fourth time that week, twelfth time that month and countless times overall. You'd made dinner. It was cold now, like the stony expression on his face and the watery one on yours.

"What?"

Steve glanced up from his phone, brow furrowed.

"I'm done," you said.

"With what?"

You sighed deeply, regathering yourself for a moment. Pushed down the lump in your throat, shoulders raised to try and show whatever tatters of your pride you had left.

"I'm leaving you," you said. "I can't...I don't want to sit around and wait for you to love me again."

Steve put his phone down, pausing for a moment. It looked like he was going to say something...maybe anything. Even though your mind was made up, part of you wanted him to beg. To get on his knees, take your hands and plead for your heart back. God knows that this time a year ago, he would have pleaded with you in person and with writing in the sky.

Instead, he just sniffed.

He sniffed, and you left. Keys to your shared apartment thrown into the dish on the side, never to be taken again. At least the Lego heart keys chain you had together would be together again - you know, when he was actually home.

Whatever time you had previously put into your relationship, you now put into yourself. Found a nice little loft on the other side of the river - it felt like the wrong side, but everything felt wrong without him - and decorated it with everything but photos of you together. There was a nice rug, and a beautiful sofa, and your marble counters were a nice welcome home.

Still, the bed felt cold. Not as cold as it had when he'd lovelessly laid beside you, but still. Cold. It felt strange only having one tooth brush in the holder, and only one bottle of shower gel on the edge of your bath. The toilet seat was always down now (Steve had had only one flaw, and that was it) and you always tripped over the shoes that you left by the door because he no longer tidied them away.

It felt like half your heart was missing, but eventually it grew back.

You forgot about Steve, and the Avengers, and that entire world until Natasha Romanoff texted you. It had been six months since your break-up by that point, and even though you missed them all dearly, it had been natural for Steve to get them in the break-up. You had your friends. He had his. But, it was nice that Natasha still thought of you.

Hey, hope you're doing well. I'm having my birthday party next week at my apartment. 7pm, same building as always. It would be nice if you came. Steve may or may not be but he's been annoying lately so I'd rather have you. Let me know <3

At first, it had been an immediate no. Then you thought about it some more, and it was a definitive no. Then, you found yourself calling Nat and talking for three hours straight.

Apparently Morgan was in her One Direction era, and had thrown an hour long tantrum when she found out they weren't together anymore. Pepper and Tony had tried to pay for a reunion, but they weren't interested. Bruce was doing an assignment in France and Clint and his family had moved a little closer to the city. Sam and Bucky were still working for the government and naturally, that had brought Natasha onto the subject of Steve.

Doing better. That's what she said. Apparently he wasn't working as late anymore and he'd cut down his hours. He was going to therapy, drinking less and working out more. She'd lingered on the last sentence, but ended it with he's more like your Steve again.

That made you want to go to the party even less, and yet the following weekend you found yourself stood outside Natasha's high-rise apartment building at 7:35PM. You'd put more effort into your appearance than usual; a more expensive fragrance, spent a little longer on your hair and worn the outfit Steve had always thought you looked best in. Maybe it was a calculated move, but you'd never been all that good at maths.

Your entrance was met with four or five hugs. Natasha looked amazing as ever, and Bucky was brighter now. Tony was elated to see you and you didn't ask about Pepper's little baby bump, but you could see it was there. Your mind was kept too occupied by all them to even think about Steve.

That - naturally - all came crashing down when you saw him across the room. He was leant against a pillar, hair longer now but fluffed up and a 5 o'clock shadow gathered on his chin. Not like the man with long hair and a beard that you'd left, but not quite the squeaky clean looking Steve you'd fallen in love with either. Still though, it was closer. He was showing through the cracks.

The question of whether or not you would approach him answered itself, because you blinked and suddenly he was stood in front of you.

"I owe you an apology."

Straight to the fucking chase.

You faltered slightly, but didn't let it show. "Yeah, I think you do."

Steve glanced around you at all your friends - naturally, they were all staring at you. They might have been superheroes but that didn't stop them being nosey fuckers.

"Let's go to the roof," he said. "I mean...if you want. You don't owe me anything."

You nodded your head. "Let's go to the roof."

The climb up the stairs to Natasha's terrace was awkward, but not as bad as the silence that quickly filled the cold air as soon as you got up there. Steve might have been one of the bravest men you'd ever met, but vulnerability scared the shit out of him. You suspected that was the case now.

"So?" you asked. "What could you possibly have to say?"

"I'll only say that I'm sorry once," Steve began. "So: I'm sorry. For pushing you out, for not trying, for letting work consume me. Even more for the fact I didn't even try to stop you leaving, because as soon as you shut the door, all I wanted to do was run after you, but I'm not stupid. I knew your mind was made up."

"Where are you going with this?"

"You leaving was like a bucket of cold water," he continued. "It made me realise a lot of things - about how much I'd left myself go, mostly. I've stopped drinking and started going to therapy, and I have my work hours capped."

You smiled. "Well done, Steve. That's really great."

"I'm better now. Not fully, but...I'm getting there," Steve replied. "I asked Natasha to invite you tonight. She wanted to anyways but it was sort of my idea."

"Why?"

"So I could apologise, but mostly because I want you back in my life," he explained. "As friends, as something more. Hell, I'll take you as my enemy if it means I get to see you again."

You sighed, eyes falling to the ground. What could you even say to that? Enemies sounded pretty good - and definitely well deserved - but you didn't hate Steve. You'd moved on, but that didn't mean you'd lost all capability to love him.

"How do I know you won't do it again?" you asked.

"You don't," he replied. "I don't know that either, but what if it doesn't happen again? What if...what if things were really good?"

You glanced away, eyes staring at the distant Manhattan skyline for a moment. It glittered and glimmered, mostly rebuilt after the 2012 incident. You could see Stark Tower as well. Steve had told you he loved you for the first time on that roof top. Now, here he was, begging for you back on another.

"Friends," you muttered. "We can be friends. I don't know after that. I've waited six fucking months for you to decide that you love me again-"

" - I never stopped -"

" - not the point, Steve!" you cut him off. "We'll start with friends, then go from there."

"I'll wait ten years if I have to," he said. His smile suggested he was joking, but you knew he wasn't.

With that, Steve pulled you into a hug. In your soul, you knew you couldn't be friends. Enemies was worst but strangers was horrible too. The answer was inevitable, but you just had to make him wait a little while.

maybe a part 2?

[girlg3n1us]

𝜗𝜚 Yours and Abby's Wedding Day Headcanons

tags: nsfw, abby x fem!reader, dom!abby x sub!reader

— Abby proposed to you at the most unexpected moment: she asked you to take a picture of a beautiful landscape on her phone. While you were looking for an angle, she got down on one knee behind you and took out a velvet box with a gold ring from her pocket. When you turned around, the smile fell off your face."Will you marry me?" She said it almost in a whisper.You started crying and nodding. She laughed and hugged you, kissing you on the forehead. You were incredibly happy.

— the preparation for the wedding was very long: it was necessary to choose a dress, a suit, a banquet hall, raise money and so on, but you and Abby coped with all this in 4 months

— when Abby saw you in a wedding dress with a bouquet in her hands, she just stared at you for another 40 seconds and was shocked by your beauty

— at the registry office, the registrar did not even have time to say: "Exchange kisses", as Abby already held your face in her palms and kissed you to the stormy screams of your relatives and guests

— when it was time for the first dance, she constantly stumbled over the train of your dress and cursed in a whisper. Her only comfort was stroking your waist and inhaling your scent to somehow quench her ardor.

— she would give her piece of wedding cake to you because "I have to go to the gym tomorrow, I have to be in shape"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤNSFW

— when your wedding night was just beginning, she untied the corset from your dress for half a year, sighing every 10-15 seconds

— "if you feel uncomfortable or hurt, then be sure to tell me, okay, baby?"

— hearing your every sob, she worries and stops. Continues only after making sure that everything is in order

— "That's it... You're such a clever.. come on...a little more...you can—shit—...do it..."

—runs in a circular motion over your clit, kissing your neck

—uses a brand new strap. Moves slowly, but speeds up over time

—"no, no, no, babe... do not close your eyes... I want to see how good you feelinʼ"

—do it in a missionary position

—Abby drips some cold champagne from the wedding feast on your chest and licks it off your breasts and nipples.

— after you both reach the edge, she will hug you for a long time, kissing your face.

heey! it's me again. actually, it's not my first work but I decided that posting it would be the best solution. I hope you'll love it 𔘓

[herrscherofinsanity]

Unsaid Things

Summary: What begins as a seemingly harmless disagreement erupts into a heated argument, leaving the echoes of hurtful words and unspoken frustrations lingering in the air.

Angst with a happy ending

Yu Jimin (Karina) x reader

Word count: 1.8k

____________________

The evening began like any other, the air tinged with the familiar warmth of shared laughter and whispered confessions. Yet, a seemingly innocent comment sparked the flames of disagreement—a spark that would soon grow into an uncontrollable blaze.

It started with a difference of opinion, a harmless clash that swiftly escalated into a battle neither of you anticipated. The room, once filled with the gentle hum of love, became a battleground for unspoken frustrations and hurtful words.

"You never listen, y/n!" Jimin's frustration spilled into the room, her voice edged with an anger that cut through the air.

Feeling the sting of accusation, you retorted with equal fervor. "Maybe if you weren't so stubborn, we could have a real conversation!"

The exchange of words, initially measured, began to escalate. The disagreement, no longer confined to the topic at hand, morphed into a barrage of hurtful comments, each word a dagger tearing at the fragile fabric of your relationship.

The laughter that once echoed off the walls now lay buried beneath the weight of resentment. Voices, once tender in the exchange of affection, grew louder, drowning in the rising tide of frustration.

Jimin's eyes, once a wellspring of love, were now stormy with emotions. "You're impossible, y/n! I can't do this anymore!"

You felt your whole world stopping, the ground beneath you began to crumble, you immediately shot back, "Maybe I'm better off without someone who can't appreciate what they have!"

The words hung in the air, a testament to the depth of your pain. The silence that followed was deafening, a vacuum filled with regret and the lingering scent of an emotional battlefield. Jimin’s eyes began to well up with tears, her ragged breathing catching you off guard.

“If that’s what you want, fine. I don’t want to keep putting up with you, enough is enough”.

_____________________

Days passed, the apartment that once housed your love now felt empty, haunted by the ghosts of unspoken regrets. Each passing moment etched the harshness of your words into your hearts, the weight of the argument heavy on your shoulders.

Jimin, who once found solace in your embrace, now sought refuge in the solitude of her thoughts. You, nursing wounds both seen and unseen, distanced yourself in an attempt to shield your heart from further pain.

In the quiet of your individual spaces, the realization of what had transpired began to settle. The words you had hurled in the heat of the moment now echoed as a painful reminder of the fragility of your love. Was this it? Three years building something you had thought would last a lifetime, up and gone just like that.

As the initial storm of anger subsided, a new storm brewed—a storm of regret, longing, and an overwhelming need to bridge the emotional chasm that had formed between the two of you. Your mind was plagued with thoughts of Jimin, was she as hurt as you were? Did she miss you as much as you missed her?

Jimin always claimed you were her world. How was she doing now that “her world” hadn’t spoken to her in weeks? Was she moving on or was she struggling as much as you were?

Truth is, you were feeling lost without your girlfriend; but how was she doing? You couldn’t help but feel worried. Had she been eating well? Was she getting enough sleep? Was she properly taking care of herself? You were dying to at least send her a quick text, but your pride stood in the way. Surely if Jimin wanted to talk to you she would’ve done so by now, why should you be the one to apologize when she was the one who started the argument?

And with that in mind, weeks went by.

____________________

Jimin's best friend, Minjeong, watched from the sidelines, torn between loyalty to Jimin and the ache of seeing you struggle. She knew the depth of your connection and understood that the silence that now filled the apartment echoed a shared pain.

Unable to bear witness to your suffering any longer, Minjeong decided to intervene. She knew that pride, no matter how well-intentioned, could be the greatest obstacle to love. And so, armed with a determination to mend what seemed irreparable, Minjeong set in motion a plan to bring you and Jimin back from the brink of a love lost to silence.

Days passed in the heavy silence that now permeated Jimin's apartment. Unable to bear the weight of the unresolved tension, you found yourself agreeing to meet Minjeong for coffee, hoping for a semblance of solace in the midst of the emotional turmoil.

The cafe was a refuge of soft chatter and the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee. You sat across from Minjeong; the air thick with the unspoken burden that had settled between you.

Minjeong, with a determined yet gentle expression, broke the silence. "y/n, I can't stand seeing both of you like this. The apartment feels like it's suffocating under the weight of whatever it is that you two left behind."

You sighed, a mixture of weariness and longing in your eyes. "I don't know what to do, Minjeong. It's like we've hit a wall, and I can't see a way through it."

Minjeong nodded, empathizing with the complexity of the situation. "Jimin cares about you more than anything. You two have been through so much together. I hate seeing that history overshadowed by a single disagreement."

"I hate it too," you admitted, the vulnerability of the situation laid bare. "But every time I think about reaching out, I can't shake the feeling that it might make things worse."

Minjeong leaned in, her gaze sincere. "Sometimes, taking the first step is the hardest, but it's also the most courageous. I know Jimin. She's hurting, probably more than she's letting on. But she loves you, y/n, and I believe you can work through this if you're willing to try."

You stared into the depths of the coffee cup sitting in front of you, contemplating Minjeong's words. The realization of the potential loss weighed heavily in your heart. "I don't want to lose her, Minjeong. But every time I think about picking up the phone, my pride gets in the way."

Minjeong's eyes softened, understanding the intricacies of pride and love. "It's okay to be scared. It's okay to be unsure. But consider what you might gain by trying. Regret is a heavier burden than the fear of vulnerability."

Silence hung in the air, the weight of Minjeong's words settling between you. Torn between fear and longing, you felt a stirring of resolve.

"I miss her," you confessed, your voice tinged with a mix of sadness and longing.

Minjeong smiled, offering your hand a supportive squeeze. "Then, go to her. Break the silence. Sometimes, all it takes is one person to start the journey back to each other."

As you left the cafe, Minjeong watched, hoping that the seeds of reconciliation had been planted.

____________________

With Minjeong's words lingering in your mind, you found yourself standing outside Jimin's apartment, hesitating before pressing the doorbell. The seconds that followed felt like an eternity until the door opened, revealing Jimin, her eyes reflecting the same pain you had been carrying.

"I miss you," Jimin whispered, her voice barely audible.

You nodded, tears glistening in your eyes. "I miss us."

The apartment was bathed in the soft glow of city lights as you two navigated the delicate terrain of healing. The air felt charged with the weight of unspoken apologies and a shared desperation to mend what seemed irreparably broken.

Jimin, her usually confident demeanor stripped away, sat on the edge of the couch, eyes fixed on the floor. You stood a few steps away, feeling the gravity of the moment—the make-or-break point of your relationship.

"I never meant for it to get this far," Jimin admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I let my pride cloud everything, and I pushed you away."

You nodded, a mix of sadness and understanding in your eyes. "I should have reached out too. I let the hurt fester instead of trying to fix this."

The silence lingered, a tangible reminder of the unspoken words that had driven you apart. In that moment, your eyes met, and for the first time in days, the wall of pride crumbled. You felt your heart clench at the sight of Jimin, a shadow of her usual self, but still able to make you feel so much with a mere look. You can’t lose her, not now, not ever.

"I'm scared," Jimin confessed, her gaze now locked with yours. "Scared that I've pushed you too far."

You took a tentative step forward, closing the physical and emotional gap between you and your girlfriend. "I'm scared too, Jimin. Scared that we might lose what we have."

As the honesty hung in the air, you found yourselves standing on the precipice of a choice—to let fear dictate the future or to confront it head-on. Slowly, you extended a hand, a silent invitation for Jimin to bridge the distance between you.

Jimin looked at the offered hand, hesitation and hope flickering in her eyes. With a deep breath, she reached out, your fingers intertwining—a simple gesture laden with the weight of reconciliation.

Jimin sighed at the contact, a small smile playing at her lips as she stared at your intertwined hands. God, she missed you so much.

"I love you," you whispered, the words a balm to the wounds that had festered for too long.

Jimin nodded, her eyes reflecting a mix of relief and gratitude. "I love you too, more than anything."

The emotional dam finally broke, and you embraced, a tight hug that conveyed more than words ever could. Tears, both of sorrow and relief, were shed, and in that shared vulnerability, you found the strength to rebuild what you thought had been lost.

As you sat together on the couch, hand in hand, you talked. About the hurt, the insecurities, and the shared dreams that had momentarily been forgotten. Listening with open hearts, forging a promise to communicate, to understand, and to never let pride overshadow your love again.

In the end, your home, once shrouded in silence, echoed with laughter and the gentle whispers of a love that had weathered the storm. You and Jimin emerged from the depths of conflict not unscathed, but stronger—armed with the wisdom that vulnerability is not a weakness but a powerful catalyst for healing and growth.

As the city outside continued its rhythmic hum, you rediscovered the melody of your shared love, each note a testament to the resilience of their bond. In the quiet of the night, you found solace in the understanding that love, when nurtured with honesty and forgiveness, could withstand even the most tumultuous storms.

____________________

A/N: Hi, happy new year to all of you! I spent the entirety of the winter break sick, so I didn't get as much done as I would've liked, but I still have a lot a want to share here with you guys. I'll be uploading stuff during the weekend, hopefully I don't forget to do so.

Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this! I went for a happy ending because I don't like hurting myself so yeah.

[blakeblueboi]

Happy (Late) Valentine's Day!!!

Draco: Potter, we agreed no gifts- Harry: I know! I know, I just- Harry: I know we said no gifts, Draco- but I was thinking about this past year and- and well, I never thought that we'd be well- we'd be- Harry: Us- you know? I know we just started seeing eachother and it's new, like you said, but isn't that reason enough? Harry: Reason enough to celebrate that it is so new? Harry: Before this year I thought that wasn't remotely a chance for us- I see now that I was wrong Harry: I was so wrong about so many things- and I hope that can at least- Harry: Make yo for that- even if it as last week that you even let me start using your first name and - -Inaudiable Harry- esque rambling- Draco: Do you ever shut up? Harry: Wha- mmph!!

The corridor rang with newfound silence as Potter's voice was abruptly swallowed in the matter of a second. Draco's ears were so unused to the lack of incessant rambling that they became muffled in shock.

The kiss, in the loosest sense of the definition, only lasted a few moments before Draco leaned back away from Potter's slightly parted ones he had seized midsentence. His grip on his tie only tightened however as Draco fixed the gaping Gryffindor with a hard glare.

Or at least he tried to. The look in Potter's eyes stole away any sort of insult or rebuttal from Draco's throat.

Stormy grey met electric green and in an instant Draco realized his mistake.

That had been their first kiss.

Their first kiss.

Draco had only wanted to shut the blubbering git and not only had he kissed Potter for the first time-- on Valentine's day no doubt-- but in the middle of the 7th floor corridor. Potter had dragged him up there without explanation, now obviously for gift giving but it was no less a public space.

Draco could feel eyes on him at all sides, from all directions even if he couldn't see or discern who exactly was there watching them.

Heat crawled up Draco's face like a creeping Acromanchula complete with pinprick of little fangs over his cheeks and down his neck. He was no better than a beet red third year as he stood there under with still silently shocked Potter's everlasting gaze. A gaze that under normal circumstances he would have preened under.

Draco's body acted on its own. With a flourish of quick and familiar magic his body bent and shifted until his pink paws plopped onto the cold cobblestone floor. With a scramble Draco bolted from the hallway, luckily with the pretty red ribbon that was wrapped around the box secured in his teeth.

The sound of Potter's voice calling after him fell on deaf ears as Draco's let his swift feline body carry him as far away as possible. As quickly as possible.

"Do you think he'll wear it?"

Harry had been a mess. So much so that he would rather take a hundred Bat Boogy hexes from Ginny back in fifth year than be in the predicament he was in at the moment.

"Harry, mate, you're starting to sound like a second year--" Ron told him indignantly from beside him with a clean chicken leg in his fist.

"Ron, I don't think you're helping--" Hermione scolded him from her spot across from them over her N.E.W.T.S level charms textbook and a half eaten dollop of strawberry pudding.

"No offense, but we are talking about Malfoy- the git is probably trying to decide which bedazzled silver trash can he's going to chunk it in- OW!!" Hermione swatted Ron over the head with her new closed charms textbook.

"Ronald, honestly you could at least try to be a little supportive for your best friend! You're making it worse!!" She hissed with a hard glare across the table at her boyfriend.

It was, indeed, making Harry's mood that much worse. He hadn't seen Draco all day since he gave him his Valentine's gift and he was starting to really believe he had botched their entire relationship. It wasn't enough that he had gotten Draco a gift when Draco had specifically told him that they were absolutely not getting each other gifts on what he described as a pathetic excuse for a holiday, but he'd gotten him something that was most definitely going to make it that much worse.

A glance over at the Slytherin table only threw his mood into the gutter when he saw Draco's usual spot empty. It wasn't like he couldn't have run after him that morning. He definitely could have. Especially in his larger, nimbler animgus form. But the thought only dug up memories of sixth year and a certain third floor bathroom. Even if the confrontation wouldn't have gone exactly like that now of course, it still kept Harry rooted to the cobblestones as he watched the white cat sprint away.

The loud swing of the Great Hall's massive doors didn't even rouse Harry to look up. He'd fallen for that trick too many times this evening to know that he wouldn't see a shock of white-blonde hair and pretty stormy grey eyes enter through it.

"Harry--" Hermione's voice whispered to him from across the table.

Harry hardly heard her over the uproar from the Slytherin table. Namely around a certain now occupied spot behind him.

"Bloody hell, Harry- did you really get that slimy git that? That must have cost a fortune!"

Ron'd words were drowned out by the sight of Draco Malfoy proudly, practically glowing with a self-satisfied smile on his beautiful face. His eyes twinkled with the light of the ever-burning candles above them and the pink glitter below that decorated every house table. His cheeks were a soft pink as Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott all gawked at him.

Or namely at what was clasped around his neck.

A silver necklace was visible above his tie and glittered in the light. It was made up of dazzling white and clear gemstones that shone various colors depending on the wearer's mood and the light around them like a prism. It was absolutely stunning, especially with the pink and rose red they were emitting onto Draco's perfectly pale skin. Harry had enlisted Hermione's help with making sure that the necklace would expand and shrink whenever Draco was in either of his forms.

Aside from what it was made out of-- it was truly a necklace but the length of it could have made it something else entirely.

That something else being a collar.

Stormy grey finally met Harry's green across the table and Draco's cheeks flamed with an instant and uncontrollable blush. A small smile was exchanged between them and words that went unsaid passed through their gazes.

Harry turned and that smile grew into a big grin despite a groan from Ron and another swat of her book on his head from Hermione.

Maybe Harry hadn't mucked things up that badly that Valentine's Day.

Fin.

WOw this took way longer than I thought it would lol

[jukeboxofjellycat]

[biaonww]

"unspoken feelings" sae itoshi based • angst. • i recommend listening to oceans & engines w/ this

may contain errors, similar content is coincidental. • super fast paced huhu, but hopefully still enjoyable :^)

6 years ago —

you were 17 when you had a crush on the sae itoshi. his eyes colored just like the ocean, and his hair reminds you of neutral pink. 

he was always so beautiful, and he did everything so beautifully. soccer, expressing his thoughts, his actions.. all done elegantly. but you knew you were two people who lived in two different worlds. 

but still, you tried to get to know him. and get close to him. 

so if not being lovers with him will settle, being friends will atleast be enough, you suppose.

so you ask for his number from his friend, shidou ryusei. 

4 years ago —

surprisingly, you two did become acquainted, then graduated high school as close friends. 

... the label ‘close friends’ that at some point, people thought you two act like an actual couple that was inlove with one another— but really, that seemt like a whole joke. 

since he was already dating someone. 

and you found out two days ago. 

well, it wasn’t surprising, of course. he’s a soccer star. he’s famous. rich, even. everyone’s dream man. and you can’t just keep him to yourself, too. because that would just be plain selfish. 

so one night, you were just tired of suppressing your feelings. 

the feeling of wanting him. 

you should’ve been contented being friends with him and still being in contact after high school— 

but there’s just this feeling, that it will never suffice for you.  ...

he noticed you acted strangely today. 

and he knows every single bit of you damn well. 

your perfectionism, how much you want to please everyone so that they don’t leave you, how you don’t want to be a second option. 

so you two fought that stormy night. 

“you’re keeping something from me, and i don’t like it.”

“i’m not.”

“you are. don’t fucking lie to me y/n. i know you damn well to say that you’re lying.”

“things won’t get better even if i tell you, okay?!”

“well you aren’t telling me! how can i help when you won’t-“

“sae itoshi! i am fucking inlove with you. but it makes me feel real pathetic standing next to you, while you have a girlfriend already.”

“it annoys me how i turn all mushy when i’m with you. it annoys me that i keep staring at your back going further and further away, because i can’t keep up with you. it annoys me how you can read me so well, but don’t get that i’m inlove with you.”

“y/n.”

“i’m leaving to go back to kyoto, sae. i don’t want to loathe you because i like you. so it’s better if we stop being friends.”

“i’m drained from loving you, itoshi sae.”

and just like that, you slip out of his hands. 

the last image he had of you before leaving to go to kyoto, was that you were soaked in the rain and crying. crying because of him.

guess love never suited him, huh. since it will never last, and slowly rot once he gets a hold of it. 

two years ago —

you’ve heard he got engaged with the same girlfriend he dated three years ago. 

you think it’s time to let go of him. 

to finally let go of the past. 

so you finally send a message to him. a plain but pathetic “congratulations on your marriage, sae. i’m happy for you.”

honestly speaking, you expected him to have a new phone number, and that he blocked you. 

though he didn’t. your message had been delivered. 

still, it’s funny how you never changed his contact name on your phone. 

but you remember that his contact photo was a picture of you and him. smiling and all giddy back in the old days.

*ding!*

itoshi • 1:27 pm

y/n. thanks. i know it’s been a long time.. but do you wanna meet up and catch up?

and so you two hit it off and meet up. 

except, your boyfriend is with you. 

but he didn’t expect your new boyfriend would be rin. his younger brother.

… he can clearly see the way his brother looks at you.

one that represents the way sae used to look at you in late-night conversations that were spent in silk sheets back in high school,

a pathetic man who was admiring you. 

the present. 12 whole years after the past.

sae and you became friends again. 

so you think it’ll be fine inviting him and his wife to your wedding with your fiancè, right?

i mean— rin was good with you. he communicates with you, there’s trust in the relation, communication- mutual agreement.

there were some rough edges in your relation, but he actually tried for you. 

you’re getting ready with your makeup, and someone knocks on the door. 

“come in.”

you mumble, fixing the strap of the wedding dress you’re wearing. 

the door opens and it’s sae. it’s just him, standing alone. 

so you turn back to face him, smiling softly. 

“you came.”

“i did. uh, mia’s just sitting down in the assigned chair you set for us.”

“i wouldn’t miss your important day anyways.”

“thank you.”

“why thank me? i did nothing.”

he softly chuckles, adoring how besutiful you looked in the wedding dress. 

you always looked best in white either ways. 

“what are you staring at, sae?”

“— i’m inlove with you too.”

your smile dissipates, so he takes it as a bad sign. 

“sae. you can’t do this to me. please don’t say you love me.”

“not when i’m finally over you.”

“i know. but i never got to tell you what i really meant back then, didn’t i?”

“… sae. i love you. but not in that way anymore. sure, i’ve missed you as a friend. but i still love rin.”

“after i met rin, he changed my whole life. he helped me get over you.”

“you’re too late. i’m sorry.”

you place the eye shadow palette you were using back on the vanity, standing up as the church bells ring. 

“i have to go. he’s probably waiting.”

“go ahead.”

and so you do leave, walking down the aisle to marry his brother.  

to him, you were just a fraction of his life;

something that was past, but something he was still trying to hold on to, even if it was already destroyed.  if he never let you go that thundery night, would he be the one you were standing with at the altar? — fin.

aa sorry for slow posts :(( im like super busy w things this week so... hopefully i'll get to post the reo fic on thursday/friday tho!! <3 reblogs, likes, and comments are vm appreciated

[hana-no-seiiki]

☁️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ FIVE STAGES OF YANDERE ࿐: IDOL EDITION

“ 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐃. “

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere! idol! oc (jisoo han) x superfan/manager! reader

✧ tw/cw: yandere themes, reader is also yandere at the start, mentions of anxiety and self harm, honestly idol life is its own tw

HAPPY HANA NO SEIIKI ANNIVERSARY YA’LL!!

[ series masterlist ]

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE ONE. ✧ DENIAL

“Oh gosh (oh gosh) this is so crazy. I’ve fallen in love again.

I trip so easily.

Adore new things, they sparkle.”

“Why are you so obsessed with him?”

“Dunno, just am.”

Your entire life revolved around Yesterday’s Dawn’s ace, Eve. The idol who had been in everyone’s lips. Whose name had been heard throughout nations you’ve never even heard of.

He was your sun, the reason you had the energy to wake up every single day, the light of your life.

Every waking moment you spent it either thinking of him or offering your services for name.

It was normal for you to spend hours looking at his schedule, knowing where he was, being around him most times, or staring at media of him.

Somehow, you were able to land a job as his manager.

You were finally closer to your god.

But you swiftly find out that no man should be likened to one for only disappointment can be found in such a path.

Eve was a lot more . . . burnt out than you expected. A lot less passionate and energetic than he was in camera if not irritable.

It was normal for him to harass workers when they didn’t meet a standard he imposed, as such, after the first few weeks of your employment everyone that you were with have already been fired, quit, and/or paid to keep their silence on the matter.

Yet your feelings for him only stayed; as your employment with the company. Your meticulous and proactive nature as a fan site owner allowed you to take much of the workload he threw at you.

The little admiration you have left for the man kept you standing.

And if only you were a little less stressed you’d notice his scarlet eyes providing stares of amusement, bewilderment, and growing affection.

You never complained (at least, in a place where he could hear you).

Whenever he asked for impossible items or schedules you’ll simply grin and work things out in your little way.

You adjusted to his turbulent temperament as quickly as an experienced pilot in a stormy sky, a sailor of uncharted, dangerous waters.

You were brilliant. Reminiscent of his times as a trainee.

Bit by bit he started lessening your workload. Allowing you to rest. Hell, even giving you his coffee if he didn’t want it. He never gives away his coffee.

You acquiesced to many of his whims but were never a pushover. Always doing your job perfectly. Keeping him in line.

He would have fallen for you already, had he not been in love with someone else.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE TWO. ✧ ANGER

“Peek-a-boo! It’s only love when my heart quivers.

All my friends yell at me, they say I have a problem.

I’m fine fine fine fine fine fine!”

“ For this comeback period, [L/N] will be assigned to Hayate instead. Eve will have his senior’s manager work with him instead.”

“Understood.”

You were assigned to another member around Spring.

Yesterday Dawn’s most hectic time of the year aside from fall as the group’s concept was as the name suggested, focused more on nostalgia and times of youth.

You were relieved.

You never thought you would have been able to say that after being separated from Eve, but now it was the only thing you had on your mind.

No more late night calls about wanting coffee but throwing the leftovers at you the moment he was sick of the taste, no more work being thrown at you and taken away at random moments, no more working around his schedule so that he’ll have time to meet that dear senior of his in private.

You were free.

Hayate was known to be the harsher one in the fandom, but much like Eve his image was a bit different from his actual self.

Sure he was demanding, but he was fair. He wasn’t controlled by whims and impulse. You were finally able to do your job properly til the end, and you didn’t always feel a judging stare from him like Jisoo would always throw at you.

You were finally able to smile.

However, you see, being a manager for another member did not mean you would completely be free of your original client.

Hayate and Eve worked quite closely, and as such, you’d often help with Jisoo’s requests even if you weren’t obligated to.

Eve immediately saw the change in you.

You were, a lot more bright. Less haggard. Your voice less hoarse. Relaxed.

You were already getting along better with his group member than you ever did with him.

Eve wasn’t really the type to show his anger actively. He was always more, passive.

The senior he was head over heels for was slowly forgotten as he’d spent countless of hours pouring his feelings into his music. What was supposed to be a bittersweet spring album turned out to be one of sour regret and frustration.

Of course, it was still a hit. It even scored him a collaboration with the senior he oh so wanted to have their eyes on him. But all he could think of as he went to bed early in the morning was the way you’d laugh whenever Hayate spoke to you.

Hmph, the guy wasn’t even funny.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE THREE. ✧ BARGAINING

“Hey you, do you wanna play a game? I already know what you want.

Close your eyes and count to 10. Don’t matter anyways

Cause I am going to find you.”

“Did you hear? Jisoo got his first scandal. Apparently he bullied a bunch of students during high-school.”

“Wasn’t he . . . homeschooled?”

Causing scandals was easy. Dealing with scandals was not.

All Eve had to do was talk to some people, had a few pictures edited and voila, chaos.

It was amusing really, his company superiors would ply him with reassurances and sweet words; telling him that everything will be fine and dealt with while his pr managers dropped down like flies trying to prevent the flames of hatred from spreading too far.

All of them, hopelessly unaware.

All but his stupid senior.

“Why are you doing this now, Ji?”

They always looked down at him almost. Like he was a petulant child that needed to be coddled or scolded depending on their mood.

“We should focus on the track.”

And like he expected, you were brought right back to him. As you should be.

The heads figured out that you were the only one capable of handling the shitstorm without falling into the hands of alcohol or other substances in grief.

And as they expected you did.

After all, you had a timeline of his entire life in a canva document. Even if it was only mentioned once in a concert interview before they went famous. You were an Eve superfan.

All you did was confirm the fact that Jisoo got homeschooled by contacting his parents and teachers, and the rest was easy. You even reactivated your fansite for such an occasion.

If only you hadn’t.

Maybe then Jisoo wouldn’t have a definite reason to pursue you.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE FOUR. ✧ DEPRESSION

“You’ll never get this concept, you might as well forget it

Just play again, bet it all, roll the dice

BLANCA”

Eve thought he was doing well in terms of romancing you.

Ever since he found out about your fansite instead of feeling disgust and horror he felt . . . great, amazing even. A high the stage could never give him.

Of course, you two were destined.

It was only his duty to protect you as your partner, to spoil you, dote on you.

Even if you don’t realize your intertwined fates yet.

. . .

Eve always hovered over you.

Usually managers took shifts with watching over the idols. Half of your time was supposed to be spent planning rather than overseeing his activities.

Yet you seemed to have a never ending babysitting responsibility.

Your past self would have committed several war crimes for the sake of this opportunity. But after a year or so under his ‘care’ you found yourself slowly veering off into the type of insanity you didn’t like falling in.

You felt a bit like Andy from the original Devil Wears Prada book, only that your resentment simmered slowly. Forming into a hideous red sludge of exasperation whenever he randomly wanted to take a vacation. Forcing only you to come with him. Which meant an even bigger workload, and even more people to talk to for flights, schedule conflicts, reservations and all that.

You snapped.

It was a calm afternoon.

The sun was burning you alive as Eve insisted you two would go on a ‘beach date’ for some summer fun.

He shoved a drink in your hand.

And you just broke down.

Tears fell from your eyes, your breath shallow.

You asked him if this amused him. If your suffering was funny to him. If making you fall over just to get his demands on time made him feel fulfilled as a person.

And before he could answer you ran.

A week after that your schedule was finally normal.

Eve kept his distance. Not just from you but from everyone.

You knew of his anxiety attacks and depression before. But seeing those up close and personal scared you.

Things only get worse from here.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE FIVE. ✧ ACCEPTANCE

“So it’s too late you’re in the game now. If you keep up might not lose it.

The jungle gym of fun, like hell yeah

Makin the moon fall down down down.”

Eve spent most of his ‘hiatus’ watching your posts of him. Edits, fanfictions, photography, fancams.

Of course, it wasn’t to see himself perform again. He already did that on a regular basis to make sure he kept himself up to the standards of an idol.

It was to see your captions.

Your fanatic raving made him feel . . . loved.

Your previous thoughts on his performances made him feel complete. Like he found a missing piece of a puzzle he kept trying to put something else to fill it in.

Another part of his hiatus was spent preparing for his graduation. The termination of his contract.

It was clear you didn’t love him as an idol anymore. It was his fault really. He couldn’t see how he was hurting you with his work and desires.

If there was another thing he can thank his idol work for was the amount of money he had saved.

Now, he had a new home built far away from civilization. It was completely soundproof. The bed he ordered was custom made, tailored to your preferences this time rather than his. Food stocked to the nines. A few instruments here and there so he could compose even while retired.

He can always make a new song, a new life for you two to enjoy together.

“My voice, my body, my soul. It had always been yours. I just didn’t realize it.”

✧ [AUTHOR’S NOTE]:

For more EVE content check out the #hns.eve tag 🩵

Lyrics are a mix of translations from the og song and Mitch Joseph’s cover.

OFFICIAL EVE CHARACTER AI

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Did You Miss Me?

Druig x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: When the Emergence began, Druig had to erase your memories of him. Now, he's come back to remind you.

Word count: ~4.5k

Warnings: Angst, Druig pining. Some swearing. Lots of fluff. Powers? Druig erasing memories.

A/n: I'm not done with Druig yet haha. I might write more for this story if anyone's interested. I'd love to know your thoughts, I'm pretty happy with this one. Thank you as always for reading <3

--

He watched you from afar. Trying to blend in with others around the park, he watched as you and a friend sat out on a blanket in the soft grass. Small plates of food and glasses surrounded the picnic basket, and you looked as beautiful as you’d always been.

From someone else’s view, he’d probably look relaxed lounging in the shade of the large tree, his back pressed against the bark. But his throat felt tight, his chest aching at what he saw. It’d been years, and you still took his breath away like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Then you laughed at something your friend said, the sound of it swimming to his ears and stayed there as he replayed it over and over again. Beneath the afternoon sun, he wanted nothing more than to lay beside you on that blanket — talk about anything or nothing, as long as he was near you. But you hadn’t laughed like that with him in a long time, hadn’t looked so at ease and happy when he’d said goodbye last time. How could he be the one to ruin that?

–

On that rainy Saturday, running around the little bookshop you’d been working at for a few years now, you barely caught a breath in between helping readers around the store. Weekends tended to be busy, but on a stormy day like this one, you couldn’t blame all the people coming in to hide from the rain or to spend a quiet day finding their next book.

During a spare moment, your eyes traced down the shop’s windows. You watched raindrops race each other down the glass and make the cement below grow darker. Absently, your hand reached up to your neck, trying to massage a knot out of the muscle running down to your shoulder.

You thought back to when you’d first come here, and you let your vision unfocus for a moment, the images of the occupied customers turning fuzzy. Trying to remember how exactly you’d gotten here always felt just out of reach, falling through your fingertips — like you’d been at home living your life one day, and the next, you’d decided to move here and begin your new life.

It’d been just as rainy the first day you came to the city, but the chilly storm had felt like a restart against your skin. In the back of your mind, you’d always wanted to have a bookshop of your own and live a quiet life among other readers, and perhaps a sweet cat.

And you’d done it, taking a job from an older woman, Carrie, near the edges of the city. Most days, you arrived early to help set things up and went home after your shift, or when Carrie shooed you away during a particularly slow day. 

Your first-floor apartment was nothing to complain about, except for the draft your landlord kept “forgetting” to fix. You’d even gotten that cat after he’d refused to leave your door until you fed him — black as night, affectionate, and always hungry. You’d named him Orion.

Still, when you sat at a restaurant alone and listened to couples laugh together or when you couldn’t quite become lost in a book as easily, some part of you felt… off. Like you were one of the window raindrops that never moved, just watching all the rest pass by without you. And you were missing out on something.

Now, standing there behind the checkout counter and watching the water spill down outside, you saw a man looking in. People passed by with curious gazes all the time, but he stood on the sidewalk with an umbrella and hooded denim jacket. You couldn’t quite make out his face, but in the back of your mind, it felt as if your window raindrop had moved an inch or so. And that jolting feeling only sharpened into surprise when someone walked up to you.

“Excuse me?”

You blinked, your awareness coming back to you as a woman said those words with a soft grin. When you looked back at the spot, the man had left already — like he’d never been there to begin with. 

Shaking your head, you returned the smile. “Sorry about that. How can I help you?”

She told you the novel she was looking for, and you happily brought her to the aisle as you both made small talk. You tended to avoid it, especially with all the current events that seemed to continually fill the news, most of them involving everyday threats and the superheroes to stop them. 

But that’s what books were for you, you thought while giving her the novel — a brief escape from life to live another one. And even the customer’s excited thanks brought you back to your mind, away from those thoughts of the past, the ones you couldn’t quite reach. 

They stayed away as you finished your shift and returned home, taking a warm shower and making yourself a cup of tea. But that night, through the rain that’d turned into a vicious thunderstorm, you dreamt of friends.

At least, they seemed to be friends as all of you — nearly a dozen people — sat around a dining table. The smell of the warm food nearly had your mouth watering, countless plates of it passing from person to person. Drinks and laughter flowed between these friends that you didn’t know the names of and faces you couldn’t recognize.

You also couldn’t catch any of the words they said, but you smiled with them as a feeling of familiar comfort settled into your body. Somehow, you trusted them. And as someone at the other end of the table raised a toast, to all of you — their family — you lifted your glass alongside everyone else. 

While they spoke, the man sitting to your right wrapped his hand around yours and gave it a soft squeeze. Your eyes glanced down to where your fingers intertwined, each one fitting together just right. 

But before you could look up at his face, a loud crack of thunder erupted, startling you awake in your dark bedroom. In the middle of the night, only the noise of your deep breaths filled the air, replacing the sounds of laughter and glasses clinking together. 

In the silence that suddenly felt like too much, you shifted, staring up at the ceiling. Sweat created a slick layer across your skin, coating you in a haze. Sleep fought you for the rest of the night. When the morning sun washed onto your face, it felt all too soon.

But despite your tired eyes and having work off today, you eventually pulled yourself out of bed. The day was bright, and you were going to make the most of it… or at least change out of your pajamas. Your hand swept over Orion’s black fur as you went through your morning routine. You tried focusing more on the bristles of your toothbrush or the taste of your breakfast rather than on how familiar last night’s dream felt.

But you weren’t in a dining room, you were here in your apartment — the one you’d been alone in for a few years. Well, except for Orion, as you were promptly reminded while sitting on the couch. He nuzzled up against your arm, clearly thinking your time was better spent petting him than reading the new book you’d gotten.

You opened up the window next to the street before scratching under his chin. His purring joined the noises of birds and traffic in the background while you opened the book. You’d only made it two chapters before Orion jumped up, meowing toward the window screen.

“What is it, buddy?” you asked, sitting up so you could see out the window, expecting to see a critter outside. But you saw nothing, not even as he wriggled his head into the corner of the screen — the broken side that definitely needed to be sealed again. Your hands reached out to grab him back, but he’d squirmed through before you could stop him.

“Shit,” you whispered under your breath as you scrambled toward your door, your book clattering to the floor. Running outside and around the side of your building, your heart pounded, knowing Orion could go right into the street or get lost out here. You caught the end of his tail going around toward the parking lot — and the busy road beyond it.

–

He shouldn’t have been at the bookstore, not after creating this new life for you — away from him — when the Emergence began. After erasing your memories of him for your own safety. He’d said he’d come back, but he also promised to do what was best for you.

He should’ve left days ago. He’d be halfway home by now. But that’d mean leaving you, for good.

–

As you turned the corner, you didn’t find your cat sprinting away. Instead, he stood at the edge of the parking lot, his head happily rubbing against someone’s jean-clad legs. For a moment, you stopped short, watching Orion act so affectionately toward this stranger. All you could say was, “I’m so sorry, I’ve never seen him do this before.”

You scooped him up in your arms, despite the ongoing meowing protests he let out. When you lifted your head, ready to thank the man, your eyes caught on his. Any words fell flat in the back of your throat as you looked into the eyes rippling with the color of the ocean. Your eyebrows furrowed together, your head tilting to the side as you took in this man, a baseball cap covering part of his face.

“...Do I know you from somewhere?” Your question hung in the air between you two, your arms wrapped tight around your cat. Feeling a bit silly for even asking, you shook your head. “I, uh, work at a bookstore, so I probably see countless people every day,” you said, followed by an unsure laugh.

“Maybe,” he responded, offering a small smile — one that made your stomach flutter. He nodded, about to turn away when you opened your mouth once again.

“I didn’t thank you… for stopping Orion from getting away.” You held up Orion, giving him a smile of gratitude. 

This stopped the man, his head tilting this time. “Orion?” he asked, an accent hanging onto his words. His eyes watching you began to soften. “I like the name.”

You weren’t sure why, but the way the man’s gaze settled on you and your cat made you feel calm — like your body resisted going back to your apartment just yet. Orion certainly didn’t take to just anyone.

But this was a stranger, and you had your cat back. So you gave another thank you and left the man. Before any other escapes could occur, you closed your apartment window with hunched shoulders and a sigh. 

–

Standing outside the apartment, he rubbed a hand down his face, releasing a silent groan. That part of him telling him to leave, that you’re happier and safer here in this new life, sat heavy on his chest. Maybe in another life, you’ll have her, it said, trying desperately to convince him. But he wouldn’t have her in another life. Because he had thousands to live, and you only had one.

The other part of him thought about the life they could lead together — one where he didn’t have to force himself to forget your smile that made his steps falter. He’d nearly come clean just from how you had looked at him, your eyes sticking to him like honey.

He’d balled his fingers into a fist to stop from running a thumb across your cheek, from smoothing out the worries that filled your body. He wanted you to engulf his mind the way his powers could do to others, living out the rest of time entwined together in every form. 

And dreaming of a life he’d selfishly choose — taking you away from everything you���d created here — hurt worse than walking away right now.

But… you’d recognized him. He saw it pass across your face. And you remembered that Orion was his favorite constellation. You remembered him. 

–

For a bit, you tried to get back into your book despite Orion’s incessant meowing at the window. When you hadn’t made it past the one paragraph you’d been rereading for a half hour now, your mind reeling with the eyes made from the sky itself, you turned on the TV instead. 

That night, after falling asleep with takeout in your stomach and an old rom-com playing in the background, you dreamt of a bedroom. Your bedroom, and of a man you couldn’t quite see the face of.

Morning light washed the room in a golden color, where you saw the back of him staring out the window. All of it shimmered under a fuzzy haze as his contagious laughter made you blink the sleep out of your heavy eyes. 

You drew in the image of his soft hair, the color of warm syrup, and his pants that you could’ve sworn you’d seen before. Or least smelled, the soft scent of him bathing you in coffee and leather, along with something you couldn’t pick out, but it felt… familiar. He wore no shirt, the planes of his back open and calling for you to brush your hands along, mapping the freckles.

But you blinked again, and the bedroom shifted. Moonlight flooded the room this time, leaving the corners pitch black. The man with the brown hair paced back and forth, but his face again always sat in the shadows.

Somehow, you knew you’d had an argument this time — not a resentful fight, but a tense conversation that pulled your relationship, whatever it was, at the seams. Anger didn’t fuel it. You knew because in the cavity of your chest sat a deep sadness and worry. Your hand itched to reach out to him, but no matter what you tried, you couldn’t move.

All you could do was sit there and watch as whatever worry ate away at him. You woke up that morning with tear-stained cheeks. No one stood looking out your window like they belonged there. The early sunlight didn’t feel as warm as the one in your dream.

Your mind struggled to keep away from wondering what all this meant, even during your busy shift at the bookstore. It all felt half-hearted as you turned from customer to customer and shelved books in between.

You only snapped back into the moment when a child ran by and knocked the display you’d just built to the ground. You supposed that was one way to take your mind off of things. But silently, you cursed whichever god of fate was against you as the display also hit your water bottle, spilling it onto your shoes. A pained sigh eased its way silently from your mouth, the noise joined by the soft squelching under your feet.

The kid’s dad offered a “Sorry” and a look that said, “What can you do?” You thought there were several things he could do, but you just swallowed them down with a smile as you went to grab paper towels. 

Between bending over to soak up the water and spending too long rebuilding the book display, your back ached by the end. Your fingers clenched and unclenched in painful movements, too tired to massage the knots from your stiff neck.

Carrie sent you home a little early, rubbing a wrinkled hand down your arm. “You did better than me. I would’ve poured the water in my shoes on him,” she laughed, and it brought a real smile to your face.

It kept you going as you made the walk to the nearby cafe despite your uncomfortable feet. You were at least going to end this day with a well-deserved drink in your hands. The scent of the shop’s bakery section hit you, and no sprinting children were in sight — already an improvement. You kept your eyes on the menu while you waited in the short line, already knowing your order but hoping reading the words would keep your mind off the day so far.

After the man in front of you finished paying, you ordered your go-to drink full of enough caffeine and sweetness to keep you from taking a nap the second you made it home. Off to the side, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone while your drink was being made. But quicker than you expected, another barista called your order.

You’d only taken a small step forward when a man grabbed the drink first. Pausing, a moment passed before the same order was called again for the next drink they set on the counter. Your steps began again, your hand wrapping around the cup and savoring its warmth against the skin of your palm.

The man grabbing the identical drink with all your usual add-ons — same size and everything — smiled at you. “You’ve got great taste,” he said, offering a small grin. “Got hooked on this drink a while back.”

Your smile in return dropped for a second as you finally looked at him. Your gaze found the sweep of his syrupy brown hair, traveling down to the intensity of his eyes on you. 

“Hey, you saved my cat,” you said, looking between the drinks and him in slight disbelief. You weren’t sure why you were talking to him, but you found it came naturally to say something. Inclining your head toward him, you said, “I never got your name.” 

He nodded. “Dru works.”

–

“Dru…”

He watched you curl your mouth around the name and knew you were going to be the death of him. He’d already known this when you first met years ago, but watching your lips say even half his name was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. And when you told him your name, he nearly laughed — as if your name hadn’t been his favorite word.

Makkari would’ve called him a coward.

–

“Well, Dru, thank you again for keeping Orion from becoming a street cat,” you said with a grin. You took a sip from your drink, the two of you moving off to the side.

“Oh, ‘s no problem. My pleasure.” You loved the lilt of his words, the way they wrapped around you in a hug. “But how’s he doing? Hope there’ve been no more escape attempts.”

Shaking your head, you let out a sigh. “No, thankfully. He just incessantly meows while I’m trying to read.”

You watched his teeth dig into the corner of his lip as he smiled. “Ah, not very relaxing then. D’you read a lot?” he asked, taking a drink — his gaze never leaving you.

“Only as a career. And most of the other time,” you laughed, your fingers picking at the lip of your cup. “I work at the bookstore next door. Do you read much?”

You quickly added, “I won’t judge if you don’t. You just came across as a reader.”

His eyebrows rose high, his mouth dropping open a little. “A reader? I don’t come across as one of those models on those steamy romance novel covers?” he said with a teasing look in his expression, his shoulders swaying. “I’ve got some things to change.”

You couldn’t stop the giggles from bubbling up at his comment. “No, no! I see it now,” you told him through a wide smile. 

You pretended to look him up and down (really, it was only for the joke. Your eyes didn’t linger at all). The leather jacket and dark jeans hugging his body certainly fell into line with those cheesy romances you’d seen (and read). Holding back a grin, you pursed your lips. “After rescuing Orion, I think you’d be perfect for something like… My Purrfect Savior.”

His smile turned sly, disbelieving as he shook his head. “No… they can’t really be that bad.”

You nodded, letting out a breathless chuckle. “I swear on my life.”

His shock turned into a wide grin as laughter took over him, his shoulders shaking as he leaned toward you. 

But the sound of his laughter, full of something warm and bright, had your smile dropping. Staring straight at him, maybe through him, you knew it felt identical to the one you’d heard in your dream last night. It felt like a blow to your stomach, sending you hunching over slightly.

His own face sunk, and suddenly, you hated that you recognized that look. It came with hundreds of moments that crushed against your ribs.

In an instant, memories rushed back into your mind — images of him, of his family, of your life together. A gasp escaped your mouth as you staggered back away from him. A whisper passed your lips. 

“Druig.”

–

Fuck.

He knew you were going to hate him. But you sure said his name like a prayer.

–

Your breaths felt too shallow as Druig took your arm and your drink, guiding you out of the cafe with quick steps. The sun felt too bright against your eyes, suffocating. Or was that your lungs not working?

He took you to a bench to sit down on, his hand hovering over you — hesitant. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to be wrapped in his arms or to punch him off the bench. Your shaky hands pressed against your face, trying to keep you grounded.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The man who was just a stranger now called you sweetheart, and he was no longer a stranger. He was your Druig, the one that’d erased your memories of the Eternals to keep you safe — against the wishes of your heart and the hot tears stinging your eyes when he’d told you. Despite you agreeing in the end, it’s for the best. It’d made the risk of him dying easier… if you didn’t know he existed in the first place.

“Please say something,” he whispered, his fingers finally making contact against your back, softly rubbing up and down.

The touch felt electric, buzzing full of a million things unsaid. After a minute, you rubbed your eyes with the backs of your hands, risking a glance up at him. “Is it really you?”

It’s really me. He spoke it into your mind, the first time he’d done so in years. The words came with a comforting weight that loosened a sigh from you.

As you stared at him, seeing tears of his own well up, something clicked into place. You lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” you whispered over and over again against his skin.

“I’m okay,” he murmured, resting his cheek on your head. “I’m sorry, this is not how I meant things to go. I… I almost didn’t say anything.”

“I should’ve known that when we agreed to do this,” you said, a bittersweet laugh coating your voice. 

Silence passed, and you could feel the unspoken words in his throat. Still, you waited until he said, “Are you sure? I can make you forget again, if you wan-”

“Druig,” you said, the sweetness of your voice almost offset by your exhaustion. “Please, shut up. You’re not leaving me again.”

He let out a long, shaky breath that shook to your core. His tense shoulders finally slumped, his body leaning into you even more.

“I couldn’t stay away from you.”

“I know,” you whispered, just holding onto him. The rise and fall of your chest fell in line with his. Silently, you thanked whatever fate brought him back to you.

It wasn’t fate. It was you. Not much could’ve made me stay away from you.

Pulling back, you glared at him, though you were too happy to see him for it to look very real. “I don’t think I missed that part of you.”

He offered a sorta apologetic smile. “Couldn’t help myself. Missed all of you, your mind too.” He rubbed his hand down the back of your head, stroking along your neck as if to make the point.

You understood what he meant, especially all those moments when you’d felt like something was missing. It was always him.

“So it’s all over then? The Emergence — I saw it on the news a while ago, but what happened?” you asked him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He brought his forehead to yours, letting out a soft breath. “We stopped it. Then I had to get things settled in the aftermath, traveled with Makkari and Thena for a few years. I’m sorry I was away for so long, but…”

You knew. He did it for you, to make sure your life would stay safe.

“I’ve missed them,” you sighed out, smiling at the memories of the other Eternals. “Oh and thank you, for saving the world,” you said with a weak laugh. 

He just smiled with you as he swiped his thumb along your cheeks, dragging the last tears away. “My beauty. I don’t know how you remembered. With my powers, that’s never happened to anyone.”

A soft smile grew along your face. “I’m not just anyone, Druig.”

His hands pulled your face closer. “No, no you’re not,” he whispered against your lips. His mouth brushed along yours before fully kissing you. It tasted of the years apart, as if making up for lost time. He kissed you until your lungs begged for air, making you reluctantly move back, settling in next to him.

He grabbed your drinks — the one you’d gotten him hooked on — and pulled you into his arms once again. You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been sitting there, the warmth still present on your lips. It wasn’t until the sun began to dip below the city’s skyline that you said anything. 

“Love?” you asked, your eyes resting shut. His arm fell around your shoulder, the two of you watching the world together.

“Hmm?”

Laying your head back against him, you whispered, “Play me a memory of us. A happy one.”

So he did, flashing a memory into your mind — one where you met the other Eternals for the first time, their family immediately embracing you. And surrounded by joy and laughter, you still held onto Druig’s hand. A tether keeping you close, a lifeline.

The warmth of it seeped throughout your body, holding you tight. It played out all through the way home. You reminisced on the memories you’d missed and imagined the new ones you’d be making.

And back at the home you’d share together for a while, after finding your old life again, you laid with Druig in bed. Between retellings of all the events he’d survived, the two of you found moments of happiness — bright stars amongst the dark background. Or a strike of lightning illuminating the window, showing two raindrops entwining themselves.

The entire time, his hand traced shapes along your skin, his touch never leaving you for long. You savored the weight of him pressed to you, an ever-present reminder of what you’d missed, of what you’d both sacrificed. You fell asleep to his soft voice brushing against the curve of your ear, whispering “I love you” again and again.

That night, you dreamt of no one.

—

@reidslovely

[cottonlemonade]

A Simpler Life [Part 3]

word count: 2296 || avg. reading time: 10 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kita x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, slice of life, mutual pining, neighbors to lovers

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: In pursuit of a calmer, simpler life you flee the city to move to the countryside - only to fall in love with your neighbor.

[part 1] [part 2]

____________________________________________

The next day you waited in the front yard for him on his way home and invited him for dinner again. And the day after that. And after that. Before long, you offered a standing dinner invitation and he happily accepted.

Now Kita’s steps quickened when he called it a day. It became rarer that he stayed until sundown to maybe do something that could be easily taken care of tomorrow. Having dinner with you every night was almost as if … almost like… coming home to you. The first thing he did when he stepped through your gate was go check on your plants. The tomatoes were doing really well and your radishes, while a bit on the puny side, also weren't too shabby. He wound a few of the newly formed pea vines around the trellis, then went to knock on your door.

A wonderful smell wafted in his nose but his heart only jumped when he saw you. You were setting the table, an apron around your plump hips, your hair tied up to a bun. It took every ounce of self control he had not to greet you with “I‘m home“. But maybe you‘d find it funny if he did? He tucked the thought away for later. Right now he dusted off his clothes, took off his shoes and stepped inside.

With the rainy season came a new routine for Kita. He loved this time of year because his fields thrived in this weather and it was fun for him to go check on their growth every other day when there was a break from the downpour. While the rain splattered loudly on the roofs and puddle-strewn streets, he stayed inside, doing the paperwork that came with farming, going over numbers and making phone calls to ensure the supply chain was in order once it was time to harvest mid fall. Before, he would have used the remaining time in his days to read or do some maintenance around his home, fixing little things he noticed or building a new piece of sturdy furniture to then deliver to his grandmother in the little hamlet he grew up in 40 minutes away. And while he did do all those things, he made very sure to keep aside more time for you as well. You met up in town for a cup of tea or to go to the grocery store together or drove to a neighboring town for a famous fish market he had told you about, eating your fill of gorgeously fresh sashimi and having a drink under the beautiful traditional awnings of the shops while looking out onto the stormy waves of the ocean. You never called it a date. You always made sure to refer to it as an “outing” and while he was glad to spend time with you, no matter what it was called, he couldn’t help but deflate a little whenever you clarified it to the people in your town who had gotten curious and suspicious about how often you two were spotted together. “Our Kita never spends this much time with anyone, let alone a pretty thing like ya. Ya should pay Yumie a visit soon, I reckon.”, one of the grandmothers had noted the other day and Kita had vehemently shaken his head behind your back to make her stop. The last thing he needed was word getting back to his grandma. She would want to meddle or as she would put it “help”. She would probably invite you over for dinner and ask all kinds of embarrassing questions, strongly hinting at the fact that she wasn’t getting any younger and Kita should hurry up and give her a pretty wedding and plenty of great-grandchildren. It wouldn’t matter that her grandson hadn’t made any romantic advances to you yet or that you perhaps didn’t even see children in your future. In all honesty, Kita would be happy with whatever you wanted. You would want children? Alright, he could get started on that straight away as far as he was concerned. You would want to spend your days with him alone and get those little goats you were gushing over the other day? He would gladly comply and build their enclosure as soon as you’d say the word. But as much as he was yours, you weren’t his. He was accompanying you on outings and although you were incredibly sweet and initiated contact often, he had learned that this was just the way you were. And he was foolish to read anything else into it.

He almost didn‘t hear the knock over the rain. It was early in the morning and he sat on his couch with a cup of tea and a book but looked up when he heard your voice calling his name.

Opening the door he came face to face with a pitiful pout.

“My home flooded.“, you announced.

“What?“

“Apparently the roof isn‘t roofing as it should and now there is a huge puddle in my living room.“

A few minutes later he stood in your doorway, marveling at the myriad of blankets and towels laid out on the floor while in the middle of the room a big flower printed bucket was steadily filling up with water trickling in from the ceiling.

He would have a word with the town‘s realtor later for selling you a house that was anything less than perfect.

“Once the rain calms down a little I’ll have a look at it. Weather report said it should be dry in the afternoon.”

You threw him a hopeful smile.

“Really? Thank you so much! Can I make you lunch in return?”

He shook his head and upon seeing your face falter he immediately followed it with, “Ya’ve been cooking for me for weeks. Lemme do it for once.”

Personally, you thought you deserved an award for not drooling all over Kita‘s kitchen table. Seeing him shake out his wet hair when he returned from a quick run to the greenhouse for some fresh veggies was already testing you but now he was preparing said fresh veggies to turn into omurice and you were just about ready to lose your mind. There was something so wonderfully cozy and domestic about seeing this man prepare his produce with a little unconscious smile on his lips. His shoulders, broadened by the field work, moved smoothly as he fried the rice and you didn���t hear him at first when he asked you a question, because your thoughts were somewhere else entirely. The meal immediately turned into your new favorite dish and his cheeks blushed when you couldn’t stop gushing about how good his rice tasted. You learned a while ago that it was a big source of pride for him when people complimented his produce, so you made sure to do it whenever possible, suppressing all the squeaks rising in your throat when you saw him turn shy. As you two enjoyed lunch, he requested more stories about your traveling and how you came to Japan, listening intently and asking for more details here and there. Laying a hand on your well-filled tummy you leaned back and let your eyes wander through his pristine home and out the open window, watching the continuous streams of collected rain drizzling from the shingles of the porch awning. Your eyes fell onto the little open shed next to his gate and the curled up form of his dog lazing around underneath.

“Shouldn’t we let him in?”, you asked and Kita followed your gaze.

“Hm? Why? Roku is a guard dog. He lives outside.”

“But… it’s wet outside.”, you mumbled.

“It’s nice in the hay, I promise.”

“Hm…”

“Don’t worry, he is doing well. If he’d be in here he couldn’t do his job properly to guard ya.”

Using his chopsticks, Kita placed a red bean mochi for dessert on a small plate with more fresh strawberries and handed it to you. You accepted and chewed the sweet treat thoughtfully, still looking outside, unaware of his adoring smile.

The rain did let up in the afternoon just as predicted and together you carried a ladder and some supplies over to your house. You insisted on helping and although you couldn‘t do much to assist, you noted that you could still cheer him on and make sure the ladder didn‘t fall.

Moving slowly on the wet roof he went to work. The leak was fortunately nothing major and it didn‘t take long to fix. On his way back to the ladder however -

He drew in a sharp breath when he felt a muscle pull in his shoulder.

“Oh my gosh, are you alright?“, he heard you call from the ground.

“Yeah. Just slipped.“

Kita almost missed a step on his way down when he suddenly felt your hand supporting his back. He was really trying not to enjoy you fussing over him but when you led him inside and ordered him to sit on your couch while you prepared an ice pack, he couldn‘t help but play it up eeever so slightly. And then regretted it instantly when you offered to apply a muscle relaxant balm. Ears and cheeks burning, stomach stirring, skin tingling and thoughts racing, Kita focused on a wood knot on your floor, telling himself to calm down as you rubbed the balm onto his shoulder.

With the start of the new week he was once again busy with errands in town and the city and only got to see you for your daily dinner - by now his favorite part of the day. When he got home on Friday night, he was surprised that Roku didn‘t come to greet him as he stepped out of his car. Kita looked around and found the black and white dog snuggled in the open shed in his usual space but now lounging luxuriously on a very plush dark blue pillow. He sighed as he knelt down to pet the soft floppy ears, Roku blinking sleepily up at him but not moving from his new bed.

It looked like you made it yourself, it even had the dog’s name embroidered on the side.

“She really spoils us both, hm?“, Kita muttered and Roku grumbled in agreement.

And so, with another sigh, he decided to confess to you. Soon. Even if just for his own peace of mind.

Once you had left after dinner and he was alone with his thoughts, Kita tried to focus on his book but his mind kept wandering. He had never confessed to anyone before. Quite honestly, as much as his grandmother would have been disappointed, he had been fully prepared to be alone for the rest of his days. He never would have guessed that a gorgeous foreigner from the city would take up residence in his heart. You reminded him of the little wild tulips that dotted the fields with white each new spring. They had always been his favorite because although maybe unassuming and almost delicate at first glance, when you looked closer they were resilient and just… beautiful. He should probably write you a letter to let him choose his words carefully. Yes. And he’d deliver the letter to your doorstep to then patiently wait for your response.

“Did ya already get this one?“, you asked. Deciding to use the break in between downpours Kita had suggested to do some pruning in your veggie patch. The soil was soaked and muddy but the stone plates he had laid down a few weeks ago kept both of you from sinking in.

He smiled and nodded, working on the tomato plants while you went over to trim the superfluous sprouts from the bell peppers. He noticed some days ago that you had started to use his dialect in a few words here and there and every time it happened, his stomach did a little somersault.

“Thank you, by the way. For everything else, too.“, you said suddenly. He looked at you for a moment before continuing his task.

“Don‘t worry about it. It‘s not a big deal.“

“I don‘t just mean the pruning. I mean everything. It‘s a huge deal!“, you exclaimed, “You helped me with my garden, I don‘t know what you did to that realtor but I got compensation for the leaky roof and a whole handwritten apology letter. You give me advice, share your phenomenal produce for free, built me a planter, fixed my roof“, you gave a nervous chuckle while he blushed at the list of your appreciation, “and you mean to tell me none of that is a big deal?“

“Because they‘re only natural when ya love someone.“, he shrugged and froze a moment later mid-snip when he realized what he had just said.

“What?“

“I…“

“You… you love me?“

He took a deep silent breath. “Well… yeah.“, he then said in a tone as if confirming the sky was blue, “I thought it was rather obvious.“

When you didn‘t respond, he went back to pruning, trying to exude his usual air of calm but his heart pounded in his chest. There it was. And you didn‘t say anything. So you didn‘t feel the same after all. But at least it was out now. He examined the leaf of a momotaro tomato when he felt your hand on his cheek, turning his head to you. His eyes widened when your lips touched his. Short at first. You looked at him, probably waiting for a reaction, then leaned in again.

Kita squeezed his eyes shut to drown out the rushing sound in his ears. With trembling hands he needed two attempts to get the gloves off his hands so he could cup your cheeks and pull you closer.

____________________________________________

a/n: This is truly everything I love 😌 I loved writing it! The next part will be spicy so if you’d rather keep this story sfw this is where is “important” plot ends 🌟

art: coloring done by @keiko-chan

[part 4]

[wordsbymae]

Late One Stormy Night Pt. 2

This is a continuation, including a large time jump, of my original farmer storyline, the canon events if you will. I would have loved to do this for flower seller and mousy au, however I feel it fits much better for the original farmer. I may do one for the other aus as well. Also this is just a short little snippet into where this reader ends up, I have spoken in depth about their life together, but this is years down the track, where pumpkin has finally given in.

Triggers: Pregnancy! FemReader, Stockholm syndrome ofc, reader has pretty much been brainwashed into being a perfect house wife, if you didn't know the context or if I didn't remind you within the text, it would seem like a nice love story. feminism please do not judge me

A kick against your belly halted your movements. A small smile etches across your face. You drop the washing you had just grab back into the basket that lay on the lush green ground beneath you. A gentle spring breeze floated past, bringing the scent of pine and grain past. The babe in your belly has only just started to move within you. You had yet to fully comprehend that life, a new being, was growing within you. Another kick, against both your belly and hand this time, brought a giggle to your face. The sound of tyres on dirt brought your attention to your husband pulling up in front of the house. Your giggle faded. You didn't like remembering the time before you were allowed in the house, the time you spent huddle within a stable in the barn. When you fought against his every action and offer of affection. Now, after finally putting your pride aside, you were happy. It took years, but you finally content by his side. It was so long ago know that you couldn't even really remember how you came across him. All your remember is rain, and that is all you could begin to remember before the memories fell apart like ash.

You begin to make your way to your husband, pushing aside the laundry drying along the washing line. The sun beamed down with kindness, bringing a subtle warmth across your skin.

You stopped a few metres away from him, watching as he jumped out of his pick up truck, a wide smile on his face at the sight of you.

"Well good afternoon to you pumpkin, how you feeling? That boy of mine not giving you trouble?" he greeted, turning to the tray of the truck, grabbing from it a large wooden log. He huffs as the weight of the log pushes against his shoulder.

"I'm feeling fine" you laugh, it was a game of yours to count how many times in one day he asked how you were feeling. This was his 10th ask of the day.

"We don't if its a boy yet. Could be a girl" you offer with a smirk. He was convinced it was a boy.

"Nope" he states as he walks towards the work shed, you follow behind him, begging for attention. Ever since the barn, you've been so desperate for affection.

"In the last five generations of my family, there hasn't been one girl born" he drops the log down in the dirt next to his wood working station. You pout, wondering how that is even possible and also wondering why he had a massive log to begin with.

"what's the log for?" you ask.

He turns back to you with a lazy smile, wiping sweat from his brow and he takes his hat off.

"A crib" he beams. Delight dancing in his eyes.

"Oh, that makes sense" you mutter. Your eyes begin to slowly blink in exhaustion. Carrying a baby isn't easy.

" Come on pumpkin, lets get you to bed" he drawls, grasping your hand with a gentle touch. So very different from how he used to touch you when you first arrived.

You nod lazily, still surprised with how quickly sleep comes to you these days.

"That boy of ours sure likes to cause trouble huh? He's gonna just be like his daddy, although I'm hoping he's gonna look like you sweetheart." he muses, a hand coming down to trace your belly as you walk.

The farmer smiles once more. Everything he ever wanted he has. A beautiful wife, the perfect family and more hopefuly to come after this one. He chides himself for the years spent alone, angry at the world and himself. That whole time he could have had this, a place within a family. But he wouldn't change anything, not the timing or the place. You came to him at the perfect time, you were everything he ever could have wanted and more.

He thanks himself for having the courage to take what he saw as his.

[maddascanbe-blog]

Finally! I will say now that the class girls will likely take a long time as well.

Kagami's first and second looks here are meant to be her pre and post character development outfits.

Buckle in, this is a long (haha) one

Kagami in cannon is clearly designsed to resemble Marinette in a lot of ways, both are of Asian decent and have blue-ish hair and blue eyes. Both have freckles and even their suits share a very similar color pallet. At least Luka was different from Adrien in more than personality.

I didn't want that for my Kagami. I wanted her too look like more than a Marinette clone. So she gets to keep her freckles since my Marinette doesn't have any. Her hair is a darker color instead of a blue, and her eyes take on a stormy grey color. And of course their body types are different, namely Kagami is both taller and ripped.

Ryuko's hair is more blue since I gave the miraculous blue, white, and gold accent to match the weather pattern on her chest. Her hair get's shorter, pinned back and is a bit more wild. It's probably got some static. Little horns and some armor to keep her extra safe as well as further resembling scales. Her suit is closer to an orange shade than Ladybug's cool red. I almost switched her to blue since I agree with the sentiment that the dragon should have been blue. But red looked good too.

I don't particularly like any of the akuma designs for Kagami. I like Oni-Chan in concept at least (hate the name) so I decided to combine that with Riposte to create her initial design. Than she gets a pallet swap and a few thorny details to represent the rose. And Bara-Oni, literally just 'Rose Demon' I ain't creative, when Lila pulls her stunt.

Kagami's personality is very similar to cannon, however her character still has some pretty harsh changes. Kagami has come to realse through Adrien and Marinette's friendship that she isn't very happy with her life. Her mother is trying to live through her, forcing Kagami to participate in fencing and putting pressure on her to perform perfectly in every aspect of life.

This comes to a head when she is given Longg. While sitting in the akumatized mech her mother became, all because she had the audacity to make friends, she actually waits long (haha) enough for Longg to explain the miraculous. When Long explains the weapon he points out that she must be thrilled to have a sword. At which point Kagami was an emotional breakdown and sobs that she doesn't even like sword fighting. That she would rather learn hand to hand combat and that she's wanted to switch for years but her mother refused to hear it.

Longg says her can change her weapon to better suit her, and she get's armor and the abilitly to summon gauntlets when her power activates.

After having this break she and Adrien sit down and try and find ways for Kagami to feel more like an individual without being disowned at 16. Cutting/dyeing your hair and getting a Tattoo are two of the results, and since Kagami already has short hair and doens't really want to go shorter she gets the tattoo instead. Subtly referencing her time as Ryuko in blue (her favorite color). And of course her mother is blind and doesn't know

Is it kind of shitty to abuse your mother's disability to use her money and get a tattoo? Maybe. But that's what you get for mentally and emotionally warping your duaghter to the point where she lies about her favorite color to please you. She, Adrien, and Chloe are in the "Our mom's suck" club together. Chloe will be collecting her for new wardrobe shopping.