#in that dream I was in some kind of a school with dormitory near a forest | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

twstgabrielle · 2 years ago

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Beautiful Letters

Beauty.

What exactly was beauty?

To some beauty was in the form of nature, to others it was in the form of looks, and to a few it was in the form of trinkets that shined or shimmered in the light. There were many interruptions of the word, many forms of it, but for you beauty was in the form of the one who you loved most in the world.

Beauty was in the form of Vil Schoenheit.

But not in the way that many people would believe. Granted Vil was a beautiful man, with sharp, elegant amethyst hues and porcelain pale skin that glowed in the sun. With pale blonde hair tipped with lavender and sharp facial features and an air of dignity and regale and elegance he was in a way the definition of beauty. However none of those things were what you associated with beauty. No for you Vil's beauty came from his inner self, it came from his kindness and dedication and his hard work. It came from his compassion and his willingness to help those who needed it and never asking for anything in return.

Vil Schoenheit's beauty was in the form of the very person that he was in your eyes.

Perhaps that was why you'd fallen so hard for him. Why you'd found yourself dreaming about him, wanting him to glance in your direction. You hadn't realized until very recently just how in love with him you were, when you'd truly caught a glimpse of the man underneath the natural beauty. It'd been a normal day for you, the same mundane routine going to school and existing quietly amongst your classmates. Invisible in a way to those around you, when you'd stumbled upon a scene that you probably shouldn't have seen. Vil Schoenheit, the Pomefiore dormitory leader was sitting alone by the wishing well, gently holding a small bird on his finger.

"Are you hungry little one? You're in luck because I have some food leftover from lunch."

The man said softly, his voice gentle and kind as he interacted with the small creature. The bird chirped happily when it was given a few crumbs to munch on, hopping from Vil's finger and into the palm of his hand, while Vil watched over it quietly like a silent but tender guardian. It was surreal in a way to see Vil holding something so small and look so at ease within that moment. Whenever you'd seen the dorm leader he was usually somewhat serious and unapproachable in a way but now in the private moment that you'd stumbled on, the once unattainable and distant man you'd once known was now a kind and gentle one who seemed to enjoy feeding a small little bird.

You watched the small moment your heart doing a funny little pattern in your chest as you took it in. The smile on his face, sincere and untroubled, the gentle warmth in his eyes and in that moment you realized just how deeply in love with him you were. After that you began to see so many glimpses of the beautiful man, in moments when he'd interact with his underclassmen Epel and his vice dorm leader Rook to tending to his flowers near the Pomefiore dormitory. With each moment you fell deeper and deeper in love with him. With each moment the urge to tell him grew stronger, to let him know what you saw in him. However you were much too shy to go up to him and blatantly confess.

So you became content to watch him from afar, admiring him and quietly pining over him. And for awhile it worked for you, until your friend Yuu found out. Once they found out about it suddenly the once content existence you lived was completely wrecked. Yuu bless them tried to slowly get you and Vil to interact with one another more, however you would quickly make an escape when your shyness and flustered state became overwhelming. Often times leading to some embarrassing moments.

"(Y/N) you've gotta do something at least! This whole pining thing isn't exactly healthy."

The prefect said as they scolded you over another failed attempt at actually talking to Vil. You bowed your head slightly like a kicked puppy.

"I'm sorry Yuu it's just so difficult to talk to him....."

You said softly your (H/L) (H/C) hair covering your face slightly. Yuu gave you a small pitying look, knowing that this was rather difficult for you. You weren't the most sociable person, easily getting flustered and shy and awkward whenever too much attention was on you. The Ramshackle dorm leader quietly pondered in their thoughts while you chewed on your lower lip nervously at their silence. You about jumped out of your skin when Yuu suddenly snapped their fingers together in an epiphany.

"I got it, how about instead of directly talking to him you write him a letter?"

Yuu asked training their gaze on you. You stared at your friend in slight confusion.

"A letter....?"

You asked earning a nod from the prefect.

"Yeah a letter. You can send something to him anonymously and tell him your feelings until you can gather the courage to actually talk to him."

Yuu said satisfied with their solution. You pondered this going over the pros and cons of this. If you wrote a letter you could finally tell him your truest feelings, without the shyness you display whenever you were around him. You could finally let him know what was slowly eating away at you without him ever knowing it was you. However if you went through with this and Vil found out that you were the sender..........

You felt an small sense of dread hit you at the possible outcomes. Each one more horrid than the last one. You were getting so stuck in the imaginary scenarios that Yuu had to snap you out of it.

"Just think about it okay? If you don't want to then we'll try another way to get you guys to interact more."

Yuu said softly rubbing your shoulder soothingly. You gave a shaky nod and the two of you went quiet only speaking about mundane things. Yet your mind was a million miles away.

~~~~~

Writing letters was a lot harder than you thought it was. You didn't even know where to begin. Staring at the sheet of paper in front of you, you thought about how to possibly start. The gentle light shining from your desk lamp illuminated your bedroom in a gentle glow as you pondered. As you did this your thoughts drifted back towards Vil himself and with him came a few memories. Your mind replayed one these memories, of one of the few times you'd managed to actually speak to him somewhat. You'd been sitting in the courtyard by yourself near the flowers, the scent of lilacs and lilies surrounding you as you enjoyed the blossoms. Vil had came to join you wondering if you were alright. After telling him that you were fine the two of you had managed to start a conversation.

It was somewhat awkward for you but you managed to speak to him despite your heart pounding and your thoughts racing. You remembered saying something and the amused chuckle that you'd received from the dorm leader along with the smile.

'He has the most beautiful smile.....'

Your heart fluttered at the memory of it and suddenly a stroke of inspiration hit you. You knew what you were going to write. Grabbing your pen you began to write your letter. You stayed up late into the night writing what your heart was telling you, putting your most sincere and heartfelt words into it in hopes that it would reach him. Hands stained in ink and a feeling of self satisfaction you folded your letter and placed it into the envelope to keep it safe. Once done you made your way to bed and curled up into the sheets and blankets settling in for the night.

'Please.....let this not blow up in my face.'

You pleaded before drifting off to sleep.

~~~~~

Mornings in the Pomefiore dormitory was some of the best kind in Vil's opinion. The sun peaking over the vast forest trees and painting the gray castle walls and flowers in its bright reddish pink hues was a sight that he'd never get tired of. The dorm leader was making his way around the small flowers and vines in the gardens, his dark purple and golden robes painted in the morning rays, trailing behind him like a tapestry of rich purples. The dark red strings that hung from his belt swished gently with his movements as he strolled along taking everything in. It wasn't often that Vil got a chance to have a peaceful moment such as this. Being the dorm leader of Pomefiore as well as an actor and model rarely gave him time to just stop and relax so the change was welcomed greatly.

Vil made his way to the stone bench near the lilacs and sat down closing his eyes and listening to nature begin to wake up. The sounds of birds chirping and squirrels climbing up trees filled the air, and a gentle yet chilly early morning breeze playfully moved his hair. The lavender tipped hues gleamed against his pale locks and bangs surrounding him in a golden halo of sorts. Vil took a slow deep breath in smelling the fresh morning dew, flowers and grass. A sense of calm washed over him as he sat there listening and existing.

'Nothing can ever compare to this.'

He thought as he hummed softly with fondness.

"Ah there you are Roi du Poison, I was wandering where you went."

Rook's voice called out to him breaking the peaceful moment. The dorm leader sighed and opened his eyes meeting the hunter green hues of his friend and vice dorm leader. Rook was smiling down at him with a somewhat fond look, his hat blocking the sunlight. Vil looked up at him expression blank and already stoic.

"I'm guessing it's almost time to wake up the rest of the dorm. Go ahead and get started, I have to grab something from my room and then I'll join you."

Vil said already missing the peace he had momentarily. Rook gave a bigger grin and nodded.

"Oui but of course my beautiful queen, I'll see you inside."

The huntsman said before heading back towards the castle's entryway. Vil stood up shortly after brushing down his robes and following suit. Before stepping through the vast entranceway of the Pomefiore castle Vil took one last look at the morning sun remorse fully and then proceeded inside to start his day. The castle was quiet as he stepped through the doorway, the only sounds being that of his heels as he made his way towards his bedroom to grab his things to start the morning beauty routine with his underclassmen. Passing by the fabric tapestries and porcelain vases filled with flowers he finally caught sight of the familiar door that lead to his bedroom. Reaching for the doorknob Vil went to turn it but paused when the tip of his heeled boat kicked something. Confused the teen looked down towards the ground and caught sight of an envelope.

Curiosity perked up as he bent down and picked it up, gently looking it over in his hands. There was no signature other than his name on the front of it written in ink. Keeping it in one hand Vil used the other to open the bedroom and stepped inside closing the door behind him. Making his way to his vanity he sat down in the plush chair and with slow cautious movements opened the envelope and pulled out the letter and began to read its contents.

"Dearest Vil, I've written this letter to let you know of my deepest feelings towards you. I'm not the best with words nor expressing myself but I can not continue on in silence any longer. For the longest time I've watched and admired from afar, wanting nothing more than to speak with you and be in your presence. However I've been much too shy to do so, so I'd decided that a letter would be the best approach for what I wish to say, that being that I have developed feelings for you. Whenever I'm near you my heart flutters and I become tongue tied. There's so many things that I wish to say, so many things that you've most likely heard before from many others. I wish for nothing more than to express all of these feelings and my sincerity in how I feel about you, for you to know that you're one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen. Your strength, your kindness, generosity and determination, your hard working, never give up attitude. Your passion and your heart, these are just a few of the things that make me love you. Even if you don't return my affections I'd be happy just knowing that I've finally gotten to say what I've been wanting to say since forever: that I am fully and completely in love with you and your beautiful soul. Love your secret admirer."

Vil stared at the letter stunned. It wasn't the first time he'd received a love letter and it certainly wouldn't be the last. However this letter was different. A type of sincerity leaked out of the words as well as a type of affection. The person who wrote this not once mentioned his looks but rather him as a person. It was something that he rarely ever heard from admirers. Vil held the letter gently as if it was fragile as he tried to figure out who could have possibly written it. After coming up with nothing the prefect sighed and refolded the letter and placed it delicately back into its envelope. Standing up from his vanity Vil felt a fire begin to burn within him, fueling him with determination and a hardened resolve.

He'd find the author of this letter and hear from their own mouth everything they wished to say.

And perhaps if they were willing they could both discover something even more beautiful than words.

*Shows up several months later with a Starbucks in hand and an exhausted vibe. Sup bitches Vil Schoenheit has rotted my brain and ruined my life so I decided to write something for him lol. My love was reawakened by Vil forehead kisses and I regret absolutely nothing. Forgive me for the crummy love letter bit I'm not used to writing stuff like that lmfao. Also lowkey I like to imagine that Vil would probably enjoy nature to some extent because he enjoys beautiful things and nature can be hella beautiful bet. Sorry if he's out of character I tried my best. The reader is ambiguous so y'all decide what gender they are lol. I don't know if I'll continue this. Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!!!*

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sundaysundaes · 4 years ago

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Make a Wish

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff, Humor | NC-17 | College AU

Summary: It’s your birthday today and instead of giving you a box of gift, your boyfriend, Lee Donghyuck, decides to grant five of your wishes. You can’t help but feel a smirk creeping up your face. It’s time to get a little… creative.

This can be read as a stand alone but if you want to read it in order, you can start with Before Our Story Began and Jealousy.

You were having a dream. A really nice dream about your boyfriend, Lee Donghyuck, where for once in his twenty-years of living, he promised himself not to whine about anything ever again for the rest of his life. He was situated in difficult positions—got an F for the papers that he’d worked on for days, overcooked his eggs until they tasted like a pile of ashes in his mouth during breakfast, or lost a battle because Jaemin was too distracted with Jeno’s dick rubbing against his ass during the game. And even then, he did not form any complaint or whine with his head thrown back like how he usually would’ve done. It was a pleasant dream, seeing him all mature like that.

But then you woke up to the sound of that boyfriend of yours, screaming—literally screaming—directly to your ear, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY GIRL,” as if it wasn’t the middle of the night where he could wake up the whole dorm.

So now, you’re glowering at him with bleary eyes, wiping your drool away with the back of your hand. Haechan shows his phone screen, grinning when he sees you noticing with squinted eyes that it’s 00.00 am and the date written underneath it is your birthday.

“Thanks,” you flatly mutter, sinking your face back into the pillow and pulling the blanket over your head. “I’ll see you in the morning. Night, Haechannie.”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Your boyfriend is loud, too loud. You understand that Jaemin is having a sleepover at Jeno’s place so Haechan has the entire room for himself but that does not give him the right to scream right next to your ear like this. Especially when you’re this sleepy with nothing but exhaustion pumping through your veins.

“Noona~” He shakes you by the shoulder, peeling the blanket off your body and succeeding, even when you’ve tried your best to keep it tangled around you. “Come on, it’s your birthday. We have to celebrate!”

“We’ll celebrate when the sun is out. Like normal people.”

“No way, come on! You can sleep some other time!”

“You can be annoying some other time.”

He huffs loudly, puffing out his cheeks. “If you don’t get up, I’ll do things to you.”

You sigh. You know what kind of things he’s referring to and as much as you love it, you’re really drained from the part-time job you did earlier today. It’s true that you haven’t had sex with him for more than a week or so and you kind of miss doing those sort of things with him but you’re just so tired that you ended up crashing face-first on his bed earlier this evening the second you arrived in his room. You hadn’t even kissed him properly yet.

“Okay, fine.” You sit up on his bed with your shirt—or rather, his shirt—all wrinkled, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “What do you want us to do? If it’s sex, you have to wait because I’m dead tired right now.”

“I wanted to give you your present, actually.” But the way he juts out his bottom lip seems like sex was exactly what he had in mind.

“Okay, so where is it?” You ask, considering you don’t really see him carrying a box of gift with a red bow wrapped around it.

“Well, it’s kinda predictable for me to be giving you like an actual present, so I thought hey, maybe I can grant you a wish. Any kind of wish,” he emphasizes, raising that eyebrow of his in the way he knows you like it. “If you know what I mean.”

You ignore him completely, though the sight of his sexy smirk still leaves you unfocused for a good few seconds. “Only one? On my birthday? Do you even want to do this or are you just making an excuse for not buying me a present?”

“Yah!” He scrunches his nose, playfully jabbing a finger to your stomach. “I don’t see you granting me any wishes on my birthday!”

“You wanted to come inside me and I allowed you to do just that. Twice. Stop being so ungrateful.”

That wipes the playful angry look off his face almost instantly. “You’re right, fine,” he concedes, looking at you with a disinterested look in his eyes. “How many wishes do you want then?”

“I don’t know, like, fifty?”

“The hell? Do I look like Santa to you?”

“If you keep eating those samgyeopsal past midnight, your belly will.”

“Stop body-shaming me, you little—“ He suddenly leaps over, attacking you with tickles to the sides of your stomach until you fall back to the bed with his bare chest hovering over your body. You retaliate by moving your legs around, trying to kick him away but failing every time. You can barely hold back your laughter. He only stops when your face grows scarlet and your chest heaving up and down, slightly out of breath. “I’ll give you three wishes,” he offers, a bit breathless as well. “Only because you look so irresistible right now with those lips of yours.”

“Make it ten, then.” You play with his necklace, twisting it around your finger. Your other hand draws a line on his golden skin, starting from the column of his neck down to his chest. “And I’ll be even more irresistible.”

“Hmm, tempting.” His lips slowly breaking into a sultry smile. “But no. I’ll give you three and that’s final.”

“If you give me five,” you say, hooking a finger around his silver necklace this time so you can bring his face down to yours and whisper in his ear, “I’ll let you cum in my mouth later today.”

His entire face beams up almost like a kid on his first school trip. “You get yourself a deal, sister!”

You smile, caressing his cheek softly with your fingers. His gaze softens, leaning against your touch like how a kitten would. “Well then, here’s my first wish,” you speak softly as if you’re telling a secret. Your lips are just a few inches away from his, and he licks his lower lip in anticipation. “No doing sexual activities whatsoever with me on my birthday.”

That sensual, excited look he has on his face earlier? Gone, being immediately replaced by sheer horror. “What?!” He shrieks when his realization sinks in. “BUT YOU SAID YOU’D LET ME CUM IN YOUR MOUTH LATER TODAY!”

You grin at him, almost cackling out loud. “It’s not fun being on the other side of a prank, is it now, Haechannie?”

“You’re so—” But even the infamous Lee Haechan can be at loss for words. “Not even a kiss?”

“Not even a hug,” you clarify, pushing his body away with both hands so he ends up sitting on his heels, only in his boxer. “I’ll allow you to hold my hands but that’s it.”

“But why?” The way he whines the word ‘why’, loud and long, is just so him. “Hugging is like a totally normal thing to do! People hug all the time! Even kids do! It doesn’t have to be sexual.”

“It becomes sexual when you keep popping out a boner during one.”

“Screw you.”

“Not today, Haechannie. Not today.”

***

Haechan, no matter how bratty he can act from time-to-time, does keep his promise intact. He hasn’t touched you for like eight hours by now, even when you were taking a shower inside his room and ‘accidentally’ leaving the bathroom door open. You heard him groan, “Seriously? You’re doing this to me now? You’re torturing me, Nooonaaaaa~” once during your shower, but he didn’t act on his desire. You’re actually quite surprised. You know just how much this is driving him crazy.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” you say, already looking all dolled up in the red dress he once bought for you. You know how much he likes it, know how much his eyes ogle your body from top-to-toe, staring at the way the fabric hugs your body perfectly, emphasizing your every curve.

He glares at you menacingly. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what?” You play dumb, though you're sure your grin betrays you. “Come on, I’m starving. I’ll let you hold my hand as we walk, just make sure don't get a hard-on in the meantime.”

“Have I told you I hate you today?”

“And I love you too, Haechannie.”

The cafe near the dormitory you usually visit to get your daily intake of calories is closed for the day. “Why are they closed?” You ask, adjoining your eyebrows together in confusion.

“Maybe the old man has diarrhea or something.” He shrugs, hands buried deep inside the pocket of his black ripped jeans. The way they tightly hug his legs, combined with those holes, is becoming very distracting for you. “I sure as hell, hope so.”

“Will you let it go already? It was an honest mistake.”

“How on earth is putting wasabi in my cream soup an honest mistake? He totally did that on purpose!”

“Yeah, well, knowing how you just straight-up told him he looked like a walrus, I’m not even surprised he spiked your soup.”

“Now that’s an honest mistake, in which I tried to be honest but came out as a mistake.”

“You didn’t have to tell him he looked like a walrus, though.”

“But he did!” He groaned, stomping his feet on the ground. “He totally did! Look me in the eyes and tell me he didn’t look like a walrus, come on, I dare you.”

You roll your eyes. He’s always one for the dramatic. “Should we go somewhere else? How hungry are you right now?”

“For your love?” He smirked, sending you a flirty wink. “Starving.”

You make an exaggerated gesture of you vomiting your insides. “If you’re not that hungry, wanna just go grab some crepes and take a walk in the park?”

“Sure, why not.” His shoulders are relaxed as he yawns unattractively, though it still counts as adorable in your book. “Let’s drop by to that bakery you told me before on the way home. I’m gonna buy you a birthday cake.”

That earns a surprised smile from you. “I didn’t think you’d be this thoughtful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m always thoughtful.”

“Is calling a middle-aged man a walrus a form of your thoughtfulness?”

He snorts, tilting his head to the side with his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Since when did you get this sassy?” You’re about to put another retort when he suddenly kisses your cheek.

“Hey!” You abruptly step away from him, palming the side of your face. “What did I tell you about my wish again?”

He grins, eyes turning into a cute pair of crescents. “Honest mistake, babe.”

And you poke him in the abs until he drops to his knees, whining, “Whyyyyyyyy?” into the air.

There’s this park near your campus that has nice scenery—unexpectedly picturesque, even—with a huge fountain in the center of it. The green leaves of the camphor trees sway from the morning breeze, intoxicating you with a scent similar to how the pine trees smell after the rain. Children are running around, playing tags, with their parents sitting next to the fountain, busying themselves with their phones while occasionally mutters, “Be careful, don’t run too much!” from time-to-time because apparently, that’s what parents do these days.

Haechan exhales loudly as he takes a seat on the nearest bench, straightening his legs and patting a spot beside him. “Come here. I want to cuddle.”

“There are people around.”

“Since when cuddling becomes a crime?”

“It makes people uncomfortable.”

“You saying no makes me uncomfortable.”

You sigh. There’s no way of winning an argument with him. “Fine, but I’m not sitting on your lap,” you say, ignoring his pout as you take a seat next to him and hand him his chocolate-banana crepes. “Careful, you’re wearing a white shirt,” you warn, offering him his spoon. “It’ll be hard to take the stain off if—”

“I’m not a child,” he grumbles, taking the food roughly off your hand and grimacing when the chocolate syrup drips down to his shirt, staining the fabric. He blinks in surprise with his mouth wide open, before he looks back at you, only to receive a flat stare in return.

“I literally just told you that a second ago.”

Haechan shrugs. “It’s Jaemin’s shirt anyway, so I don’t care.”

With that, you bring your focus back to the food in your hand—a strawberry crepes with a scoop of vanilla ice cream—and takes a bite, almost moaning in delight when the sugary taste hits your tongue. “Man, why did I ever decide to go on a diet? This tastes so gooooood~”

Your smile and small giggle seem to be contagious because Haechan mirrors you almost in the same way though it has nothing to do with the dessert he’s holding. He observes, silently taking notes of the joyful expressions you display on your face while muttering, “How cute,” under his breath. Both of you take a moment to enjoy your so-called breakfast, sometimes taking a sip of your hot coffee to balance the sweet.

“You know,” Haechan says as he gnaws at his dessert again. “This isn’t really how I expected to go when I said I’d grant your wishes.”

“Yeah?” You decide to humor him, though you already know what he’s thinking. “Did you expect me to wish for something else?”

He nods, licking chocolate syrup off his spoon. “Something about you sitting on my face.”

You choke on a piece of strawberry you just plopped into your mouth, and you can feel it blocking your airways. “What are you—” Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes, as you begin to cough fervently.

“What are you, a kid?” Haechan pulls your hair away from your face, patting your back. “There, there.”

“Why on earth would I ask about that?!” You shout when you can properly breathe again.

“I don’t know, I just thought that maybe you wanted me to eat you out.” The way he shrugs so nonchalantly as if he’s simply talking about finding a typo in the papers he just submitted leaves you dumbfounded. “I mean, I kept teasing you about it during sex but never really did it since you were always too stubborn to beg.”

“And do you realize now how annoying you are in bed?”

“That’s not my intention, though!” He genuinely seems a bit guilty. “You just look so cute trying to hold back when it’s obvious you want my tongue inside you—”

“We’re in public, Jesus Christ—”

“It’s your pride that we have a problem with. Why can’t you just for once say, with teary eyes, ‘Haechannie, please, fuck me with your tongue’—”

“People can hear—stop it!” You try to clamp your palm around his mouth, but he dodges it perfectly and places a playful kiss on the back of your hand instead. “And are you seriously begging me to beg you for it? I don’t think that’s how it works, Hyuck.”

“It’s because I actually really want to eat you out,” he groans, sighing into the air, “But I also want to see that cute embarrassed look on your face—do you see how big of a problem this is for me?” His whine falls short when he notices the look on your face. “Wait, are you blushing?”

“I’m not!” But you know you are, you’ve never been so ashamed before. How can you not? Your boyfriend is now a) talking about eating you out, loudly, in public, b) there’s this one passerby, a middle-aged woman who dresses in way too many layers for a day as hot as this, looking at you with the most disgusted look you’ve ever seen displayed on a person’s face, and c) Haechan is still talking about it. “Shut up and just get away from me!”

“Noona, your face is so red!” He’s giggling to himself now, his crepes dribbling more chocolate syrup onto his shirt from how much he’s moving. “Did I get you excited? Does this mean you’re gonna—”

“Next wish! I’ve already thought about my next wish!” You quickly avert his attention, desperately pushing his face with one hand so he’ll stop making kissy faces at you. “I want you to perform a song.”

“What, here?”

“Yeah, you don’t have a problem singing in front of people, right?”

“Of course not,” he snorts loudly. “I have an amazing voice. You know, people should really be paying me to hear me sing, actually.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, though deep down in your heart, you kind of admit that he really does have an amazing voice. His vocal is unique and distinct, easily noticeable even if there are a hundred vocalists in the room. And the way he does his adlibs whenever he sings his favorite tunes actually makes the song sounds a thousand times better. There’s no way you’re going to tell that to his face, though. His ego is already big enough without you feeding him compliments.

“Well then, you’re in luck.” You grin mischievously, nodding your head toward a band that’s been playing acoustic songs near the fountain for quite some time. There are three people playing instruments, with one of them being the vocalist and you comment inwardly in your head that Haechan sounds so much better than him—but maybe you’re just biased. The band is promoting their demo album, trying to get people’s attention to recognize their self-composed songs and buy their album if they fit their taste. No crowds are gathering in front of them, and you feel kind of sorry because they actually sound pretty good. “If you follow my wish and do it right, you could probably get some tips along the way.”

“You want me to sing with the band? I don’t think they’ll allow me though.”

“They will. I’ll buy their album in exchange.”

Haechan doesn’t seem eager at the slightest. “Must we waste our money away?”

“What, are you scared?” You taunt, raising one of your eyebrows challengingly because you know how much he hates to lose. And it works as expected, because Haechan is now standing up, throwing the rest of his crepes away to the nearest trash bin, and cracks his knuckles.

“Lee Haechan never runs away from a challenge.” He has this annoying cocky grin displayed on his face. “Tell me what song you want me to sing.”

“Your favorite. Man in The Mirror.”

“Dude, I nailed that song. Is this even a challenge?” He clicks his tongue, cocking his head. “So easy.”

He already has taken a few steps away, heading toward the band, when you stop him dead on his tracks by saying, “I know you nailed it. That’s why we have to keep it interesting so here’s my wish: I want you to sing out of tune.”

Even if you said that he was turning on his heels at the speed of light, it wouldn’t be too much of an exaggeration. “NO FUCKING WAY.”

“Ah, but sadly,” you fake a pout, mocking him, “You promised you’d grant my wish.”

“But that’s just stupid! Why would I do something like that? Why would anyone do something like that?” He shakes his head furiously. “And doing this to my favorite singer?! Hell no!”

“Haechannie.”

“No.”

“Haechannie.”

“NO.”

You sigh, walking closer to him and pull him down by the hand to close the gap between your heights and murmur in his ear. “If you do that,” you breathe out, trying your best to sound as sexy as you can, “I might consider buying that customized dildo you want this weekend.”

Haechan has his jaw hanging low on his face, looking at you with his wide eyes shaking in disbelief. “Oh my God,” he whines, placing both hands on your shoulders before rocking you back and forth. “Noonaaaaa~ This is soooo not fair. You can’t do this to me!”

You chuckle at how childish he is. “So, how is it going to be, Lee Donghyuck-sshi?”

He contemplates hard about it—really hard, probably the hardest thinking he ever did in his entire life—nibbling on his lower lip as he does it. After a moment has passed, he finally ends it with his signature pout. “But you promise, right? No pranking me this time?”

“I promise,” you say with a firm nod but you have your fingers crossed behind your back.

“Fine,” he says as if it was the heaviest decision he has ever made. “Then, I’ll sing… off-key—eww!” He sticks out his tongue, clutching his arms around his stomach. “I’m about to throw up my crepes just by thinking about it.”

“Good luck.” You pat his shoulder. “Oh, and make sure you sing the first part like you always do, so people will notice and start listening to how amazing your voice is. And when they’re so into it, as you get to the second chorus, that’s when you start singing off-key.”

Haechan’s eyes are lifeless when they bore into you. “Isn’t it time for you to go back to hell, Satan?”

“Remember, Haechannie,” you press a finger to your lips, winking at him. “Customized. Dildo.”

“I hate you.”

“And I love you too.”

So both of you get into the business. After the band performed an acoustic version of their titled song, you approach them with a smile, offering your hand to the vocalist. You tell them how talented they are, making sure to bedazzle them with compliments and your charming attitudes so things can go as planned. It’s actually not that hard trying to convince them to accompany your boyfriend sing, especially when you say you’re going to buy two of their demo albums.

“What song do you want to sing, dude?” The vocalist, a friendly man most likely in his twenties with a goatee on his face, asks Haechan while offering a fist bump. Your boyfriend grimaces, bumping his fist against him like it’s the most disgusting thing he’s ever done.

“Something wrong?” The man asks. “You look kinda pale, man.”

“He just ate something bad during breakfast earlier,” you come to answer him instead, rubbing Haechan’s back soothingly. “But he’s fine now. Can you guys play Man in The Mirror?”

“Michael Jackson, right? Sure thing.”

You elbow your boyfriend playfully on the side of his stomach. “Sure thing, he said.”

“I want to die.”

“Aaw, poor baby,” you pucker your lips, having the best time of your life making fun of him. “Now off you go, I’ll be right here.” And you bring your iPhone in the air, camera-ready with a tap of your thumb. Haechan has his eyes on the standing microphone, looking at it like it’s the most horrifying thing he’s ever witnessed in his life.

Haechan just barely takes a step forward before he runs back to your spot again, all jumpy and twitchy. “I can’t—I can’t do this—this is so embarrassing—”

“On three, okay, man?” The vocalist takes a seat on one of the little stools they have placed next to the amplifiers with his Fender guitar placed firmly on his lap. And before Haechan can give him a nod or any sign in return, he begins counting and the entire band plays the song. There’s no way out of this now.

Haechan finally walks toward the mic with his soul most likely leaving his body with every step he takes.

You give him a cheer as loud as you can—not to support him, but so you can gather people’s attention. Haechan shushes you down in panic before he finally takes the mic, constantly throwing ice daggers at you with his eyes. You begin to chant his name—“Lee Donghyuck! Lee Donghyuck!”—and with every shout of it, Haechan dies a little bit more.

Haechan falls two beats behind before he finally sings into the microphone, his voice resonating through the air. He does sound amazing, albeit a little nervous and that’s probably just because he’s doing the dare. He usually sounds confident, his voice sounding strong and clear not caring if the room is empty or filled with people so this anxious version of him really makes you think that maybe you’ve forced him a little bit too far.

He completes the first part of the song rather easily and the entire band behind him nod their heads along to the music, amazement sparkling in their eyes. You can see the vocalist quietly mouths, “Damn, he’s good,” to the member sitting beside him who shortly agrees wholeheartedly. You can’t help but smile at that, looking like a proud mom.

People, one-by-one, begin to gather around you, whispering to one another, asking, “Who is he? What band is this?” or simply praising his vocal and your smile grows wider. It vanishes almost instantly, though, the second you hear some girls chattering behind your back, talking about how attractive Haechan looks—especially in that leather jacket and those dark combat boots he’s wearing. You never pegged yourself to be a jealous, overprotective girlfriend before but with Haechan, perhaps you’re beginning to turn exactly into that.

Haechan, who seems pretty pleased with how he sang the first part, suddenly begins to fidget on his feet. The more he gets closer to the second chorus, the paler he becomes and he has his eyes tightly shut when he’s finally there, singing the first two lines in the right way before forcing himself to sing off-key.

You blurt out laughing but immediately clasp a hand over your mouth. Haechan looks like he’s in pain, and the rest of the band has their eyebrows furrowed in question, looking back and forth at each other, probably asking, what the hell is wrong with this dude, he was doing so good before. The audience begins to look at one another, eyebrows knitting in concern. New visitors stop in their tracks, looking at your boyfriend with judging looks on their faces. Even the parents that were so busy with their phones before begin to lift their heads from the screen, trying to know who is this terrible singer and why is he wailing like this.

Haechan sounds so awful and you can only imagine how much this is killing him from the inside. He barely gets to the end of the second chorus before he turns to face the band, bowing his head and shouting, “I’m so sorry!” before he scrambles on his feet, running toward you.

“Wait, Hyuck, you haven’t finished—” Your protest ends in laughter when Haechan rashly hooks an arm around your shoulder, breaking through the crowd and forcing you to match his steps so you can leave the park for good.

He’s never stepping into this place ever again, you’re sure of it.

***

On the way back to the dorm, you stop by the bakery you’ve been wanting to visit and Haechan buys you a birthday cake as promised but with a permanent pout displayed on his place.

“A cake for your girlfriend?” The cashier lady asks with a friendly smile.

Haechan simply pouts harder, muttering, “Yes, my super annoying girlfriend.” And you pop out from behind his back, raising a hand in the air as you beam at her with a cheeky grin, “Yep, that’s me!”

Haechan walks next to you on the sidewalk as if he just did the longest marathon he ever did in his life—all drained out and slow on his steps. His shoulders are hunched forward, his eyes droopy and every time you take a peek and share a glance at him, he’ll start fuming again—like an angry child, upset for being left alone in his grandma’s house while the whole family went on a trip.

“Okay, knowing how fast you’re walking right now,” you mutter sarcastically, looking at the nonexistent watch you wear around your wrist for dramatic effects, “We’ll be back in our dorm at approximately eighty-four years from now.”

“Whatever. I’m still angry at you.”

“But we just started! I thought you wanted to make me happy.” You try to look as sad as possible, batting your eyelashes at him. “It’s my birthday, you know.”

“I wasn’t aware that making you happy equals giving me emotional distress.” After two seconds passed by in silence, he adds, “And physical pain.”

You smile at the attitude he’s giving, wondering just how cute can this man be by the end of the day. Maybe you should keep torturing him a little.

Just a little bit more.

“Haechannie,” you roll his name off your tongue in a playful manner, wrapping both arms around his right one. “I’m ready for my next wish.”

“Didn’t you listen to any word I just said?”

“See that old lady over there?”

“Yeah, you clearly didn’t.” Haechan follows your gaze with a heavy sigh, not quite pleased with how easily you ignore his complaints, and he sees a grey-haired woman, old enough to be his grandmother, sitting alone on a bench with a book on her hands and her glasses hanging dangerously low on the bridge of her nose. Her cane lays still on her side, and by the look of it, she appears to be waiting for someone.

“Oh come on, leave her alone,” Haechan says, already looking sorry for her even when you haven’t said anything yet. “She’s so old and she looks so frail. I am not going to do your stupid dare at the cost of her life.”

You roll your eyes.“Relax, I won’t ask something that stupid.”

“Oh, because your first wish was just so brilliant, I suppose?”

“I’m serious, I’m not that mean.” Not to her, at least. “I just want you to sit next to her on the bench and act like it’s the worst day of your life.”

“I won’t be calling that acting,” he grumbles. “I am having the worst day of my life.”

“What? I thought we’re having fun!” You try so hard to look sympathetic enough for him but it’s almost an impossible deed to do when you’re seconds away from laughing.

“You’re having fun.” He squints his eyes menacingly. “I’m having a fucking seizure.”

“You’re fine, don’t be too dramatic.” You card your fingers through his hair, pushing back the bangs from his eyes to showcase his temple exactly the way you like it. “Well, I want you to act sad—like, really sad, bawling your eyes out and everything—and when she asks you why, explain that you just found out you’re adopted.” You press something against his palm. “Here.”

Haechan has his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he takes a look at it. “What’s this?”

“A postcard with a picture of your parents. I just bought it at the minimart before when you were in the bakery.”

“But…” He stares in horror. “They’re Americans.”

“Exactly.” You know there’s a shit-eating grin blooming on your face but you cannot wipe it off. “You can walk away after she tries to comfort you or give you some advice or something.”

Haechan keeps scowling at you as if he wanted to eat you alive, but you charm him with your brightest smile until he sighs and tucks the postcard in the back pocket of his jeans. “You know I’ll pay you back for this later, right?”

“Wha—I thought you said you’ll grant me any wishes for free!”

“MAN, IF I COULD JUST TURN BACK TIME—“ He yanks out his hair, making you a bit worried because you love his soft, adorable brown locks and he’s been tugging at them for quite some time today. “Okay, fine, I’ll do it. I no longer have any shame left in my body anyway. Or soul, for that matter.” He turns on his heels, straightening his jacket as if that could give him more courage. “You better not blink your eyes.”

“It’s okay even if I do.” You bring out your phone, waving it in the air. “’Cause I’m recording it. This will go viral on Youtube.”

“I hate you.”

“And I love you too, Haechannie.”

It takes a good ten minutes for Haechan to prepare himself for the stupid dare he’s about to do, even though he previously claimed he had no shame whatsoever. He paces back-and-forth at the sidewalk, stomping his feet once or twice restlessly, and mutters quietly to himself, “Man up. Man up, you idiot. It’s just a stupid dare.” You desperately want to have a miniature size of this Haechan and keeps him inside your pocket so you can watch him being nervously cute all day long with his cheeks puffed in anger.

“Okay, I’m going.” And he finally steps forward, braver this time, and sits down on the other end of the bench, twiddling his fingers in anxiety. You bite your lip to contain your laughter and press record.

Almost fifteen seconds have passed by and there’s no reaction, not even a glance, coming from the old lady. You can see Haechan nibbling persistently on his lip, his feet tapping worriedly on the ground before he finally lets out the loudest, heaviest sigh in the history of mankind. It’s so loud that it makes the old lady jumps on her seat, her hands going to her chest, her book left abandoned on her lap. Haechan also looks surprised knowing that she’s surprised and everything just looks so hilarious that your camera begins to shake from how hard you try not to laugh.

“I-is there something wrong, my dear?” The old lady asks, shifting her body a little on her seat so she can face him properly.

Haechan takes a deep breath and begins his act by burying his face in his hands, faking a sob. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I just—” He sniffles loudly, trying to make it obvious to her that he’s in agony. “It’s the worst day of my life.”

And it’s cheesy, how he acts, but she seems to buy it—or maybe she’s just too kind. “May I ask what happened? I’m not sure I can help but…” She lands her shaky hand on his back, caressing him soothingly. “It’s always better to pour your feelings out instead of bottling them inside.”

She sounds so genuinely compassionate, unlike the maniacal laughter that currently tumbles down your lips.

Haechan lifts his head, turning towards her. His eyes begin to droop, making him look like a kicked puppy. “I just found out…” He sniffs for dramatic effects. “That… That I’m adopted!” And he loudly whimpers into his hands again.

The old lady gasps, covering her parted lips with her thin fingers. “Oh my… Did your parents tell you that?”

“No, it’s even worse. I found out on my own when they were talking in their room.” Haechan rummages his back pocket, handing her the postcard. “Here, look. It’s a picture of my parents.”

The lady takes the postcard with a pair of heartbroken eyes but they soon begin to change when she notices that the two people in the picture are straight-up Americans, while Haechan, needless to say at this point, looks like the most common—though far more handsome—Korean boy you can encounter on daily basis.

“I know,” Haechan says, wiping a nonexistent tear out of his eyes and fakes another sob. “Surprising, isn’t it? I mean, we look so much alike, there’s no way I would’ve guessed I was adopted if I didn’t hear them talking about it behind my back.”

The old lady is still pretty much dumbstruck with how bizarrely stupid everything is, but she’s too kind to call him out on it. She hands the postcard back to him, looking much less sorry this time, and takes a moment of silence. Haechan cries against his palms again, and you wonder if he’s only faking it or being real about it this time because the entire situation is just painfully awkward.

“You see, my dear,” she begins, voice gentle and reassuring but the sincerity isn’t really the same as before. “Sometimes it really can feel like the world is ending, and I know that this must be hard for you,” she stops to knit her eyebrows, “no matter how obvious this should’ve appeared to you. But maybe it’s not about having a picture-perfect family, but about finding beautiful moments.”

“You’re right,” Haechan hurriedly agrees, his eyes twinkling in delight knowing that this excruciating dare is about to end. “I’m happy with them being my family, even if they’re not, you know, really my parents.”

She smiles but it kind of looks like a grimace, and she says her next words with a gentle pat on his back. “But shouldn’t you have noticed about it sooner, though, dear? You look nothing like them.”

And Haechan winces, not sure how to react. “I could be, uhh…” He licks his lips nervously. “Quite dumb, sometimes.”

“Yes,” she nods, still patting his back. “You certainly can.”

A tall man, at least ten years older than Haechan, approaches their spot with a paper bag in his arms. “Mom, are you ready to—” he stops to take a look at your boyfriend, trying to understand the situation of why is his mother sitting way too close to a guy dressed flirtatiously in a leather jacket and boots with her hand caressing his back. “What are you guys doing?”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m adopted,” Haechan says, handing him the same stupid picture. “She’s just consoling me about it.”

He takes a look and sends him his biggest judging look. “Dude, what are you, stupid?”

***

Haechan is still fuming all the way back to his dorm and no matter how much you apologize about it, he still doesn’t want to talk to you. He throws himself on his bed with his shoes still on the second he enters his room. You’re still smiling quietly to yourself, can barely handle all the cuteness he’s emitting.

“Haechannie,” you gently call, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Are you still upset?”

No answer.

“Look, I said, I’m sorry. Talk to me, please?”

Haechan has his face pressed flat against his comforter and you secretly wonder whether he can even breathe in that position. A few seconds passed by in silence before Haechan finally mumbles, “Did it make you happy?”

“What, you doing my stupid dares?” You can already feel another laughter bubbling up your throat but you have to contain it. You can’t hurt him more than this. “Yes and I know I’ve been mean to you and I’m sorry for that, but you were so cute.” You run a hand along his spine before you carefully caress his hair as a mother would do to a child. “Please don’t be mad.”

He eventually sits up, crossing his legs on the bed, sniffling a little bit while still avoiding eye contact. “Well, I guess, as long as you’re happy.”

“Are you crying?”

“No,” he states, practically puffing out his cheeks by now. “I’m just so embarrassed with all of this. Why are you being so mean to me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, come here.” You motion him to come closer, and you know it’s breaking the rules of your first wish but you don’t care. This giant teddy bear desperately needs a hug.

Haechan immediately sighs when you stand with your knees pressed on the bed, wrapping both arms around his head. He sinks his face to the crook of your neck, lowly murmuring, “I hate you,” with his breath fanning your skin.

“You’ve been saying that a lot.”

“Yeah, because you’re mean.”

“But I love you even more today,” you softly reply, pulling away a little so you can trace your fingers along the smoothness of his cheek. “You’re so adorable, Hyuck, do you know that?”

“Is singing out of tune and harassing old lady your kink or something?”

“That’s not it.” You pinch the bridge of his nose, making him yelp a little. “It’s just the way you forced yourself to do these things—these things you hate the most—for me and asking me whether they made me happy or not, while still being all grumpy about it. You’re just so cute and I love you for that.”

The sun is setting outside his window, illuminating his face with such a warm, beautiful glow that somehow makes him appear a bit more melancholic and angelic at the same time. He finally drags his eyes back on yours, with his bottom lip still jutting out slightly. He says the next four words so quietly under his breath that you can barely hear them. “What?”

“I said, I love you too,” he repeats in a rush, before he sinks his face in the slope of your neck again, whining all the way. “Don’t make me say it like this, it’s weird.”

And you notice that this is actually the first time he truly confesses his love for you. He’s joked about it a lot, toying with your feelings at least ten times within a day, casually throwing the word love as if it meant nothing more than mere decoration for his flirtatious lines. But now that he’s saying it in all the seriousness he can muster, he can barely look you in the eyes, can barely say it without whispering, and it’s cute how the usually confident Lee Haechan, crumbles into nothing but a shy little boy facing his feelings for the first time.

“Ah seriously,” he murmurs against your hair. “What are you doing to me? I’m not usually like this.”

You can’t help but tease him. “Yes, you’re usually more satanic.”

“Yah—”

And you stop him with a soft kiss to his lips. You can feel him taking a sharp breath, his arms stiffening as they circle your waist. You’re about to kiss him again when you feel him tensing against your body. Noticing how he looks a bit baffled, you carefully tug yourself away. “What is it?”

“I thought you said we couldn’t kiss today,” he tells in such a small voice.

“I said no sexual activities,” you retort with a sly smirk, making a poor excuse because you really miss kissing him. “This isn’t sexual,” you say, pressing your lips against his again but stop before he can return it. “This is romantic.”

He’s so distracted with your lips that he can barely take his eyes off them even when he talks. “You’re teasing me again, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” You can’t help but grin but it does not stay long when Haechan suddenly hooks his arm around your hip and pulls you closer until you’re forced to climb into his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist for balance.

“Haechan—” Your protest is swallowed by his kiss, his lips chasing after yours almost frantically. You can tell how much he misses you from the way his lips move against yours, or from the way he moans softly at the back of his throat as he settles his hand on the side of your face. His other hand holds you tighter by the waist, his fingers fisting the fabric of your dress. He angles your head to the side, kissing you with parted lips and swiping his tongue along your lower one so you’ll gain him entrance.

“Noona,” he whispers between quick breaths, sounding almost needy. “Noona, I need—”

“Okay, stop.” You place your arms on his shoulders, expanding the space between you. You can’t believe you almost got carried away. “Now this is getting sexual. Let’s head over to my next wish.”

“Wait—but I’m—” He stares at you bewilderedly, not believing the fact that you just casually drag your body away from his lap, smoothen down your hair as if nothing just happened. “Are you serious? You’re playing with me again? When I’m like this?”

“Sorry.” You peck him on the cheek, hiding your grin. “So, for my next wish—”

“Yah! Listen to what I’m saying—”

“I want you to—”

“Noonaaaaaaaa~”

“—sing me a lullaby.” His whining stops abruptly at your words and you quickly explain further before he does it again, “I’m sleepy so I’m gonna take a nap. Your job is to sing me a lullaby until I fall asleep. Easy, right?”

“You really just do whatever you want, don’t you?”

“Only for today. You, on the other hand, do that every day.”

“Fair enough. Do I get to choose the song?”

“Sure.” Knocking your high heels off your feet, you lie down on his bed with a thump, contentedly basking in his scent because his pillows, the duvet underneath you, the soft sheet below your fingertips—everything smells pleasantly like him. Haechan takes off his shoes and his leather jacket—which almost earns a loud protest from you because he looks so good with that jacket on—throwing them somewhere near the bed without care and he lies down by your side, facing you.

You turn your body to face him as well. “Hey, handsome.” You smile sheepishly at him.

He seems a bit caught off guard by it, but smiles back. “Hi.”

“Can we cuddle?”

He laughs softly at that. “Come here.” He gathers your entire figure easily in his arms and you sink your nose to his chest, humming in pleasure. “Stop being so cute, you’re torturing me.” You only giggle in response.

Haechan begins to sing, slowly at first as if he suddenly feels pressured with the way the room is so deep in silence, leaving no excuse for him to make in case he fails. You notice that, so you sneak both of your arms around his waist, snuggling even closer. “Don’t be nervous, it’s only me.”

“I’m not. Why would I be?” He masks his slightly shaky voice with a chuckle. “It’s just that your hair keeps getting into my mouth whenever I try to sing.”

“Of course.” And you keep your lips tightly shut, giving him the time he needs.

Haechan takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Had a perfect picture in my head, with you in the most beautiful dress,” he sings, beautiful notes flowing down from his lips, making you feel like everything around you becomes a blur and there’s only him with his velvety voice and his soft, warm breathing. “I look happy as ever, how did I let you go again.”

He gains confidence with more seconds passing by and you can feel his arms growing slack around your waist, no longer as tense. “Now I'm standing alone in the rain, like the kinda movie that we used to hate. Wish I could take back the time, but I know this time it's real.”

You’re not sure whether it’s because of the lyrics or the way he sings, but as beautiful as his honeyed voice sounds, you can’t help but feel a tinge of sadness growing inside you. It’s as if he’s not singing the song, he’s living through it. And you wonder maybe he’s had his heart broken by someone before—or maybe he’s just so good at putting emotions to his song, you’re still not sure yet.

“Hate that I'm singing this song. Hate that I have to be strong.” Haechan absentmindedly runs his fingers up and down your spine, before he tangles them around the strands of your hair, gently stroking them. “Hate that you're gone. I hate all my flaws. Hate that you love someone else. Hate everything. Just hate everything right now.”

It’s so genuine and soft the way he serenades you, baring his soul and you’re not even looking at his eyes as he sings it. By the end of it, you can’t help but ask him a question. “Will you be singing that song if you ever break up with me?”

He curls up closer, burying the tip of his nose in your hair. “No,” he says but continues before your disappointment can sink in, “If we ever break up, I won’t be doing anything besides getting you back. I don’t like to lose, you know how I am. And I definitely don’t want to lose something—or rather, someone—this important to me.”

“Stop flirting with me,” you chime in, pulling away a little so you can take a look at his face. “You already have me wrapped around your fingers.”

But Haechan doesn’t smile or act cocky about it. He just takes his time analyzing your face, taking in your features as he trails his fingers down from your hair, to your cheek, and finally stopping at the curve of your lips. “I was so worried before though when you met your ex behind my back. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just…” He loses his words when you begin to kiss his fingertips, his eyes becoming unfocused. “I don’t know, I just got anxious about it. I’ve never had someone like you before so…”

It really just sinks in that he wasn’t merely angry because you were seeing your ex-boyfriend again, he was just afraid. He was terrified of losing you but didn’t know how to react properly. He keeps on telling that you belong to him, that he owns you and everything but he doesn’t intend to dominate you. It’s just a way for him to convince himself that you’re still with him, and not in someone else’s arms.

You can feel your lips curving up into a smile. He’s just a clueless boy, probably still as inexperienced as you are when it comes to love.

You’re sinking more into his arms, sighing as he rakes his fingers down your spine. When silence starts to hang in the air, tension growing thick, Haechan spares you a glance. “Noona?”

You’re not sure what it is inside you that drives you wild but when you’re awake from your reverie, your lips are on his again, melting against his heat, and desperately asking him to deepen the kiss.

The way he inadvertently moans against your lips indicates that your kiss catches him off guard but he soon finds back his pace. He crawls on top of you, pressing your body closer, chest meeting chest, and murmurs your name with his silvery voice against your ear, successfully sending goosebumps to every inch of your body.

“Forget my first wish.” You can barely recognize your own voice from how husky it has become. He has his lips tracing your jawline, about to map his way down but you keep him still, not wanting to erase the warmth of his lips on yours just yet. “It’s a stupid wish anyway. I don’t know why I even asked that.”

Haechan forms a space between you, just to take another look at your face. His eyes are hooded, gleaming with desire. “Well then,” he rubs his thumb along your lower lip, while his tongue traces his own. “Can I kiss you more?”

“Yes.” It sounds more like a plead than affirmation, strongly painted with urgency. “Come here.”

Haechan’s lips are warmer than how they usually felt but you can’t be certain. It’s been a while since you last shared an intimate moment with him and you just now realized that it really isn’t just him who desperately seeks attention. You crave his touch way more than he does for yours.

But maybe that’s not true after all, because Haechan has his eyebrows furrowed as he kisses you passionately, his lips keep searching for yours whenever you try to pull away to catch a breath. The way he sinks his fingers along your hips, how determined he is in keeping you close to the point you can start counting on his eyelashes—everything that he does screams his emotions vividly. How much he longs for you. How much he misses the taste of your breath on his tongue.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, your fingers pressed against his jaw. “Please…”

Haechan blinks, a bit startled and perhaps a tad confused as well, considering you stopped him from going too far earlier. But he doesn’t complain and takes every chance he can get, if it means he can be closer to you. It’s so soft, the way he kisses you now, as if he’s having his first kiss, not sure if he’s doing it right but you don’t mind. It’s rare, being kissed by him like this, and somehow it makes your skin tingle as if merely just a touch of his lips is sending electricity to your entire body.

“I love you,” you whisper as you share his breath. “I really do love you, Hyuck.”

The way he halts his action for a good two seconds, probably letting your words sink into his head, makes your own heart skip a beat or two. And you’re worried if you say too much, or if you’ve become too needy and it annoys him, but when you sneak a glance at him, you notice how his cheeks are tainted with red before he leans closer, roughly murmuring, “Just kiss me again,” against your lips.

But the way he’s holding your body makes you feel way more loved than the words he said earlier. And he’s taking his time, just gently moves his lips against yours, his tongue slipping in only slightly to steal a taste. But you sigh against his mouth either way because it’s not only his kiss that weakens you, it’s his entire presence—the way his warmth seeps through the fabric of your dress, the way he’s holding back a moan when you unconsciously tug his locks a little bit too hard, or the way he just naturally smells so sweet, almost honey-like, numbing your other senses at once.

“Noona,” he breathes heavily, tilting his head to the side so you’ll have better access to running your lips against the skin of his neck. “I want… I need…” he trails off, too busy looking at the way you’re slipping your fingers underneath his shirt, tracing his hot feverish skin with your cold digits. “I really need you now.”

“Then keep touching me,” you mumble against his jaw, searching for his lips again. “I want to feel you too. Come closer.” But even if your words speak a sense of urgency, your fingers still feel as light as a feather on his skin and he seems to notice that, because he’s keeping up the same pace, not suddenly rushing to tear your clothes apart like how he usually does.

He chants your name over and over again, almost like a prayer, his desire running thick in his veins. As he moves down, his fingers find their way to the zipper of your dress, pulling it down slowly, and he takes his time to kiss every inch of your body that’s revealed to him one by one.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting to do this to you,” he confesses, his nose skimming along the skin of your shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.” You arch your back, desperately needing to close the space between you. “I’ve missed you too.”

And you’re half-expecting him to put on a smirk and asks, “Yeah? How much, exactly?” But this time, he doesn’t. His lips are busy marking your skin, sucking gently at the spot that makes you curl your toes. He brings his eyes back to yours again when your lips moan out his name.

“Don’t do that,” he says, looking like he’s gradually losing control of himself. “You know how that drives me crazy.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“I love it, but—” He suddenly presses his lips hard against yours, as if there’s another person inside him that’s been screaming at him to latch his lips with yours before he wastes more second talking nonsense. And you try to reciprocate the movement of his lips with the same speed but he doesn’t give you much room to improvise. He knows what he’s doing, all you need to do is just relax and blend into the kiss. He already makes everything so easy for you. The problem is, he makes you feel like something is pressing against your chest and your stomach is doing crazy flips over and over again.

He finally stops again when you gasp his name.

“Ah, no, seriously.” It’s like he’s fighting a battle within himself, pulling away from you and shaking his head. “I want to take it slow today, Noona, but you moaning my name like that is not making it easy for me so please, just don’t—” He exhales, pressing his temple against yours with his eyes closed. “Don’t torture me like that.”

It’s cute how he tries to hold back, trying to be as gentle as possible. “I’m fine with the way you usually hold me, though.” It’s tempting, and he’s pretty much dazed with the sultry smirk you have on your face, but he shakes his head again, snapping him back from his own thoughts.

“No, it’s your birthday,” he says, eyes switching back and forth from your eyes to your lips as he tries to enunciate his reason. “I want to make it special.”

You raise an eyebrow suspiciously. “So you’re saying that all the sex we did before today wasn’t special to you?”

He gapes. “No, that’s not—”

“Just kidding.” You giggle, pecking his cheek. “Okay, then, do your thing.” You sit up straight so you can undress properly and his eyes are instantly glued to your chest when your bra slips down your shoulders. You don’t really intend to make it sexy, but the way his eyes grow wide when you say “I’m all yours,” and lies down on his bed again in nothing but your laced underwear seems to indicate that that’s exactly how you look in his mind.

He mutters an almost inaudible fuck under his breath before he snaps himself out of his reverie again. He stands with his knees pressed on the bed, pulling his shirt over his head before he hovers back on top of you, peppering wet kisses from your ear to your neck before he ends it with his tongue trailing down the valley of your breasts.

He stops to reach for his drawer, searching for a condom while you struggle to unfasten his belt and unbutton his jeans. You’re finished a few seconds sooner and already have your back pressed against the sheet again when he crawls on top of you with a packet of condom between his teeth.

“No, wait.” You catch him by his arm as he’s about to tear the package with his teeth. “I’m on the pill today too so you can do it without.”

“Well, fuck,” he exhales, latching his lips back to yours again. “Why are you being so nice to me today?”

“You literally just complained about me being mean to you a few minutes ago.”

“Well, now that I get to come inside you again, I’m taking all my words back.” He gives playful kisses on your nose and cheeks before he licks around your face like how a cute little puppy would.

“Stop it, you’re gross!” But your airy laughter soon begins to vanish, only to be replaced with a sense of uncertainty. You begin to feel nervous when he hooks his fingers around the edge of your underwear and pulling it down your legs, baring yourself completely for his eyes. He’s seen you naked countless times and you never really felt this nervous before so it must be because—

“You seem to be thinking about something,” he interrupts, parting your legs so he can slide in between them. “Something wrong?”

“Umm—I—“ It’s not the way you stutter that betrays you; it’s the prominent blush that stains your cheeks. But you have to do this. You have to say this. Not just for your sake, but his too. “Haechannie..?”

“Yeah, Noona?”

“For my next wish…” You wet your lip anxiously, swallowing your breath, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. “C-can you eat me out, please…?”

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so startled by your action—or by anything, really—to the point that he has to remind himself to blink. “What?”

You groan, hastily grabbing a pillow nearby and use it to cover your face. “Don’t make me say it again, you idiot!” You expect him to laugh, or worse, mock you about it but instead, he snatches the pillow away, throwing it to the side, and wraps his fingers around your wrists, holding you in place.

“Noona, please,” he pleads, his cheeks turning scarlet, mirroring yours. “Please say it again. I want to see you when you say it.”

It’s actually borderline hilarious the way he’s so serious about it, and perhaps it’s really his biggest turn on—one that he hasn’t seen coming from you after all this time—so you decide to swallow your pride and indulge him further.

You repeat your words and watch as his eyes widened again for a split second before they turn gentle, looking so happy that you finally get to answer his wish. “About damn time,” he whispers against your lips, his husky voice reverberating nicely to your ears as he tastes every bit of your mouth with his tongue. He wastes no more time, heading south while placing more wet kisses down your body.

His lips are hovering above your heat, and you can really feel his breath down there. You have your eyes closed in anticipation but Haechan suddenly says, “You know what, let’s do it this way.”

He leaves you hanging and you’re about to be swallowed by shame but he suddenly lies down on the bed, his head almost touching the headboard, and motions you to come closer. “Come here.”

“What?”

“I want you to sit on my face,” he says and you almost choke on your saliva. “Come here, Noona. Please.”

And it stresses you out so much because you’ve never done this before—never even thought about it even—and you figured you just had to lay there and let him do whatever he wants with you. Crawling over to sit on his face is clearly not what you had in mind.

“Come on,” he lightly sneers when he sees how nervous you are. “I won’t bite.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, feeling a little bit lightheaded from how embarrassed you are, but when he offers a hand, you take it and follow his lead.

You have your legs on each side of his head and he’s holding you by your hips, guiding you to lower yourself down to him. “Stop being so tense,” he chuckles and you flinch because he’s so dangerously close. “It’s not like I’ve never seen you up-close before.”

“It’s different—” You gasp when he swipes his tongue against your folds, just once, before he asks, “Different how?”

You’re too occupied with sorting out your feelings and all these sensations that coming into your head at once. “I don’t know, it’s weird—” You almost whine when you feel him moving his tongue again.

“Your thighs are shaking, Noona,” he chuckles, and you clench your teeth, trying to be less conscious of how his hot breath hitting your sensitive spot.

“Please, s-stop talking.”

“I’m trying to make this casual,” he says, his voice sounding less clear as it hits your skin. “If I stop talking, you’re gonna start thinking about things again.”

“I’m not—Haechannie—” You bring your fingers to cover your mouth to stop you from moaning too loud. He’s giving tentative licks around your clit, moving agonizingly slow and you fumble with your hands, not knowing where to place them. Everything feels both terrifyingly good and painfully awkward and you’re trapped between wanting to continue and stop at the same time.

“Here,” Haechan offers, taking one of your hands and guides it down until it finds home in his hair. “Or you can lay your hands against the headboard. But I prefer you do it this way so I’ll know if you’re feeling,” he stops to licks a stripe up your folds, making you shiver, “good, or,” this time, he stops to suck hard on your clit, startling you with the amount of pleasure jolting through your veins that your body begins to tremble. “Extremely good,” he finishes, moving to the side so he can place a kiss on your thigh, letting you feel his teasing smile on your skin.

Your breathing tatters as he continues with his ministrations, now adding one of his fingers inside you to increase the pleasure. Your head hangs low, and you’re not able to tear your eyes away from his face. Seeing him between your thighs, with his eyes closed as if he’s enjoying every second of it, is just the��sexiest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

“You seem to be much more relaxed now,” Haechan leans back to show you his godforsaken smirk, “Good girl. Are you starting to regret the fact we didn’t do this sooner?”

And you want to be upset about it—about how he’s still teasing you even during this moment—but the way his breath keeps fanning against your sensitive skin makes you weak. “Please just…” You’re about to sob because it’s too damn embarrassing to be put in this situation. “Stop teasing me, Hyuck…”

Haechan blinks at your expression, his gaze immediately softens. “I’m sorry,” he says, kissing you gently on the inner part of your thigh again. “You’re just so damn cute, I can’t help but tease. Forgive me?”

And you just answer with a small nod because that’s all you can offer before his lips are pressed against your entrance again, tongue slipping inside to know how you really taste.

“Wait—” You begin to panic from how good and weird it feels. “L-let’s stop for a sec—It’s too much—” The shame, the sensation, the pleasure—they’re all hitting you hard at once and you’re too nervous to function properly.

Haechan sneaks a glance at your face, taking in the way it contorts into several emotions at once. “Baby,” he calls out softly, which sends shivers down to your core. “Don’t be nervous, it’s only me.”

You notice how he’s imitating your words from earlier and that gives you the chance to think about something else. “But… What about you..?” You ask, making eye contact with him and gulping when he raises his eyebrow in question. “I mean, I can’t please you like this.”

“Oh…” He leans his head down to the bed, giving you the space you want but not exactly what you need. “Then… Wanna do it at the same time?”

You nibble at your bottom lip, slowly nodding your head and his eyes gleam excitedly in response.

“Ah, you’re the best, seriously,” he exhales, dreamily looking at you. “All right then, turn around.”

***

It’s two hours before midnight when another idea pops up in your head. “Haechannie,” you call him out, as you click off your phone and turn to him. Hearing him humming in response, you continue. “Call Jaemin and the rest of your cute little boyband.”

By the tone of your voice, he knows he’s going to go through hell again. He groans out loud, head dangling around the edge of his bed. “Why is this day not over yet, I swear to God—”

“Just call them, I’ve got something in mind.”

“Don’t tell me you want me to make-out with them or something.”

“Why, are you interested?”

He grimaces, sticking out his tongue. “I’d rather die.”

“Glad that’s not what I’m asking then.” You climb up to join him on the bed, sitting next to his body with your knee almost touching the side of his head. He shifts around, placing his head on your lap, and stares at you with tired eyes.

“Please don’t be too mean to me this time,” he begs and you snort, can’t believe that the mischievous Lee Donghyuck actually begs you to spare his life.

You card your fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes, relaxing at your touch. It doesn’t last long though, his blissfulness, because on the next second, you say, “I want you to play that online game you always play with them but be terribly bad at it.”

“WHAT—“ He blurts out, sitting upright in such a rush that he almost knocks your heads together. “WHY—HOW COULD YOU—”

“Okay, breathe.”

“But this is too much!” He whines, his eyes widening in horror. “I have a status to uphold! You can’t do this to me!”

“Look, if it matters that much to you, I’ll give you permission to explain the situation to them.” You squeeze his hand, smiling understandingly at him. “You can tell them that you’re doing this because you’re granting my birthday wish.”

That manages to calm him down a little. “So I can let them know before the game? Oh, thank God—”

“No, a month after the game.”

“WHY ARE YOU SO EVIL—”

“Just do it already!” You shout out with a teasing grin strapped to your face. “You owe me at least that much after I let you come in my mouth.”

He gapes, eyes widening in shock. “That was for this?! I feel so tricked!”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking about that before but—” You shake your head, waving the rest of your sentence away. “Come on, Haechannie, please, please, please~” You rub your hands together, batting your eyelashes again.

He grumbles, pushing you away. “Stop doing that aegyo on me, I’m not doing it!”

I’ll grant you five wishes for your birthday!” You can’t believe you’re saying this and you know you’re going to regret it later in the future but there’s still time and you hope he’s gonna forget about it when the time arrives. Hopefully.

Haechanlooks extremely tempted at that. “Any kind of wishes?”

You wince but nod eventually. “As long as it’s nothing sexual.”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that.” His smirk is back and he’s doing it so cockily that it sends shivers down your spine. Well, you can work over that problem later. “Fine, let’s go. Give me the phone.”

Haechan calls Jaemin an asswipe the first second he gets connected but by the sound of his voice coming from the other line, he’s not even bothered in the slightest. “Get off Jeno’s dick for once and log back into your account. Bring Jisung with you. I’ll be online in ten minutes and if I don’t see you there, I’ll text your mom the real reason why you didn’t show up on Christmas Day.” And he shuts off his phone with a click, throwing it randomly on his bed.

“Do boys normally make phone calls like that?” you ask, judging him.

He only shrugs, “Cooler ones do.”

“What happened during Christmas Day?”

“Jaemin got his ass drunk, went out with Jeno, and ended up having a threesome with a stripper.” He yawns, throwing himself back on the bed again. “I’m just glad they didn’t take Jisung with them. He’s been through a lot, that poor kid.” And when he sees you raising an eyebrow in question, he just waves you off. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

There’s a lot of shouting in the background when the game started, most of it coming from the other line of Haechan’s headphones that’s strapped to his ears. You lean close to him so you can hear Jeno shouting at him, “Yah! What the fuck, Lee Donghyuck?! I thought you said you were going left!”

“I am going left.”

“THAT’S NOT LEFT, YOU IDIOT!”

And you feel sorry for your boyfriend for degrading himself on purpose like this. “As you can see,” he says, wincing as his ears begin to ring from all the shouting. He mutes his headphone as he focuses back on you with his fingers angrily tapping on his keyboards. “This causes me physical pain. I hope you’re happy.”

“I am happy.” You peck him on his cheek. “You’re the best. I love you.”

Haechan snorts, looking away and tapping his headphone again to unmute his microphone. “Hey assholes, I just died again. Sorry about that.” More screaming and angry rantings can be heard from the other line and you savor the moment as long as you can. It’s not every day you can see your cocky boyfriend being bullied by his underlings.

It’s too fun watching him play with his face contorting like he’s in deep agony that you begin to lose track of time. You just realize how late it is when Haechan suddenly quits the game, puts his PC back to the sleeping mode, and turns his chair around to face you. You suddenly feel nervous as you sit on the edge of his bed, with him staring at you with a sinful smile creeping up his face, crossing his legs.

“Ten, nine, eight,” he says, tapping his fingers and you flinch in realization. “You better start running, Noona.” He walks over, chucking off his shirt on his way to you whilst continuing his countdown. His silver necklace glints under the fluorescent light of his room and he bends down, trapping you between his arms. “Because I’ll be in charge in three… two…”

You gulp, your heart thrumming loudly against your ribcages as you feel his lips hovering dangerously above yours.

“One.”

***

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siriusmydeer · 4 years ago

Note

can you please do headcanons for young sirius black x reader fic where reader has really bad anixety attacks where sometimes she feels nauseous

breathe with me

sirius black x gender neutral!reader

summary: sirius helps you through an anxiety attack.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: MENTIONS OF VOMITING!!, mentions of gagging, anxiety/anxiety attack, over stress, mentions of digging nails into your palms (borderline indications), mentions of failing school/exams, migraines, mentions of pain killers, mentions of feeling gross, possible insecurity, sirius comforting reader

a/n: so i turned this into a fic rather than hc’s because i felt like i could portray it better through a fic. also dedicated to isa ( @acosmis-t ) my love bc i cant write so thank u baby for helping me !

“Argh.” You piercingly groaned with a hand lowered to your febrile forehead, a feverish burn arising to the skin. The day had steadily been cut close to the final bell. Your Transfiguration exam had finally been completed and not without weary, of course. The prior nights you had been found asleep with drool pooling down your tear-tainted cheek and your talons promptly sunken into your palms as a desperate endeavour to relieve your stress. (Although it had not been the best choice, and at some points rather painful)

The piling books glared fiercely at you in the library till Madam Pince undoubtedly had to beckon you away, so you could sufficiently rest. Indeed then, your unconscious mind was piled in dreadful dreams (More-so nightmares) regarding critical failure and your pleaded requests to Mcgonagall, so you could re-attempt your failed exams.

Your polished nails had been essentially glued to your pearly teeth, chomping at the rarebit till there was nothing left to bite. The strums of your heart steadily increased as the last final students had cautiously worked on their assessments. You had patiently waited, subtly noticing your brawny throat becoming excessively dry as well as well as your diaphragm contracting by the minor second, an indistinguishable bile substance threatening to overtake the taste buds on your parched tongue.

A small, minuscule tap in the nape of your skull had increased to small needles swimming around your brain while the time ticked.

Sirius had been sitting in Charms flipping away at ‘Quidditch Through the Ages’ anxiously as he had to withhold himself from darting nervously out of his class and inquire how you were feeling with a knowing sense of how the rest of the day would take place. He had been made quite aware of your particular issue in the Third Year when you had disgorged your lunch, Shepherd's Pie that you had previously eaten had been hurled onto his Oxford’s his noble family spent a pretty penny to purchase.

At McGonagall's constructive dismissal, you had collected your materials and begun to walk cautiously through the corridors with your books clutched eagerly to your chest.

A slight increase in your breaths began to inflate your lungs and the steadily increasing heart strums became an overwhelming palpitation deafening your ears. Your heart had battered in your chest; nearing closer, and closer to your dormitory. Your hands had begun to develop a slight tremor at the anxious vibrations poisoning your blood, whilst your vision began to mildly obscure. You needed a moment to recollect yourself, a minute to breathe.

You had murmured a small, ‘Fairy Lights’ to the portrait before trudging up the stairs and colliding into the dormitory. The hinges had creaked whilst you abruptly had shut the door, luckily nobody was present to allegedly witness your exertion. Your bedroom had frequently remained tidy, a typical symptom of your anxiety that had obsessively pursued you to attempt your very hardest, even better than your very hardest, at everything and anything.

You had stood center in your room venturing for the hostile seizing in your bones to cease for at least a moment. Your chest had felt tight, like a tensed muscle that had been pulled after an unusually hard sport.

You had walked toward your window and back Window, and back. Window, and back. Again, Again and Again.

Your nails are placed between the mild edges of your teeth. The cavern of your mouth almost feeling obstructed by the bile mingling around with your parched throat. At the incessant pacing of your feet, there had been a remaining thud in your thick skull adding to your misery.

The small gust of wind was the singular audible sound in the dormitory as one of your dorm mates had abandoned it open. Your brain had felt like it swelled beyond generating capacity now your mild dehydration was too obvious to ignore like you had planned to do. You had deliberated with your eyes closed and your face contorted into a frown, you would’ve had to trudge to the kitchens for a possible amount of comfort in your state. You had groaned again, your hand promptly placed over your face, as you traipsed across the room, attempting to comfort yourself, in a sense.

Perhaps some painkillers spewed on the bathroom counter that you had previously taken before your exam could help you. Your neck had begun to sear in heat the hair that was almost clung to your nape, you raised your heavy eyelids halfway only for them to fall shut a twinging pain beginning to naturally arise behind your optics. You huffed with a minuscule gag, too much effort it would take to stroll around the school in the huffing state you were currently in, a migraine still revelling in your mind. Maybe later, you thought with a creased brow. You had heard the hinges creak again, incorrectly assuming one of your dorm mates had been back. Except your dorm mates didn’t possess the baritone of a burly male.

“Y/n” He whispered tenderly, attempting not to disturb your pacing.

“Not now.”

He had partaken notice to your mindful scratches against your neck, continuously pulling up the hair only for it to fall once more. You had paused for a moment with a tremor in your finger that was trapped between your teeth. A familiar distortion of torture wrapping around your throat like a snake that was threatening to suffocate you; your respires heavier and more frequent. He had begun speaking, a blubber of words escaping his trachea. Yet, all jumbled like alphabet soup in your brain between his dismembered sentences.

You suspired heavily in frustration, “Just— Shut up! Please.” You begged in exasperation. Still prying your hair from your neck, you stood frozen, discontentment building in your system.

He had noticed the black hair tie absentmindedly clung to his wrist whenever you had asked for one. Steadily walking towards your paused figure he had gathered your hair in the tie, your neck feeling the refreshing air against it; a slight relief applied against your skin. You promptly initiated to remove your robe, there was a warm discerning grip on your body overheating your arms as well as your midriff due to the uniform.

With a violent tremor in your fingers, you started grasping at the buttons, a mild frustration initiating at the fact you couldn’t pop them open due to the recurrent quiver in your digits. Sirius had removed your hands from your robe, hastily unbuttoning it before you hurled it aside.

“How 'bout we go to the bathroom, Hmm?” He cooed while beckoning you into the bathroom, noticing the tremor in your body as well as your fidgeting fingers that were twiddling between each other. He had turned the sink on, switching the handle left where a blue spot differentiated the colours. Delicately, he grasped your trembling wrists and ran them beneath the cooling water. “Just… Feel gross.”You murmured to yourself as he ran a few fingers under the downpour, placing his frigid fingers behind your neck.

Your shoulders faintly shrugged at the sensation while he turned off the water and let your hands air dry, helping you not feel solidified by anything. During his movement, you had grasped onto his fingers where a few heirloom rings had fit snugly on his fingers, “Tell me about them.” This was a technique he had created in an effort of distraction at the uprising feelings of disgust for yourself bound to erupt at any moment.

“There’s a B, I guess. Erm, engraving, swirls and stuff…” You trailed off while attempting to decipher the designs in the ring that was on his forefinger.“S’too much! Just wanna— Dunno, not feel like this anymore!”

He had partaken scrutiny to your physical tics as well as your body language, with a faint clutch on two of your fingers he had hauled you to the very center of your dormitory. Within a few inches of each other, he had mauled your hand over his sternum. You felt the heavy respires in his chest as well as the vibrations melding with your palm as he spoke, “Breathe with me.”

You had stood there, minutes, maybe almost an hour, time was now pushed to the very nooks and crannies of your mind. The surges of perturbation still prominently surging through your veins to the density of your bones, the recurrent tremble still foremost notable but the buckling of your knees had calmed down as well as the faint chatter of your teeth. Still copying his sluggish breathing, you looked deep into his pear irises, his optics having a settling effect, a tingling reassurance reflecting in them. In the sunlight state that had remained in your room due to the unclosed curtains, there had been cerulean hues caught in that state.

Sirius’ eyes had been crafted like delicate feathers that were used for quills, not the albino kind of dove feathers, but the ones with a hue so softly grey that they could have been pencil-drawn rather than used by a quill with smeared stygian ink. They had that look of birds flying on sunlit days, the shine and quick movement, yet relaxed, purposeful, at ease.

“Can we sit?” You questioned quietly after removing your hand from his chest, hesitantly grabbing onto two of his fingers as he had previously done with you. “Anything you want.” He replied in a murmur, craning his head left, then right, trying to figure out where to beckon you into a seated position.

You had sat upon the wooden floor. The flooring designs similar to a chorus of browns; they sang together, an acapella of baritone hues that rose into vibrant soprano notes. It was a fitting place for a dormitory where laughter could normally be discerned, a place for those new sounds to soak right in and join the spirit that was already there when you had first entered the dormitory your first year.

“Here?”

“Mhm.” You nodded your head scarcely as he sat next to you. You sighed for a moment, placing a minimal amount of your temple against his shoulder, feeling the similar respires soothe you. “Here.”

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malfoysstilinski · 4 years ago

Text

stupid chicken | DRACO MALFOY

pairing: draco malfoy x slytherin!reader

summary: after draco’s hurt by buckbeak, you find a way to put a smile on his face. short fluff.

warnings: hufflepuff slander :(

“That stupid chicken!” Draco seethes, pale face nearly bright red as he clutches his sling-clad arm close to his chest, stalking down the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts.

You smile discreetly from beside him, unsure why Draco was so insistent on mocking the Hippogriff who had attacked him in a frenzy of fear, all due to Draco’s own cockiness. It wasn’t Buckbeak’s fault at all, but Draco was blind to all his wrong doings.

He glares when Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan giggle at him as he stalks by, lip curling in such a menacing way that you would have recoiled too, had you not been his girlfriend. Draco would never treat you how he treats the rest of the school’s population— he acted cruel to maintain his reputation, yet around you, he was a clingy, cuddle-loving teenage boy, just desperate for some positive attention.

“Bloody Hufflepuffs,” he spits, “Why are they even here? Society has surpassed the need for them!”

You chuckle and roll your eyes. “Calm down, Draco. I’m sure they meant nothing by it.”

You could tell Draco was in pain from the injury on his arm and that he was humiliated due to the increased frequency of his crude remarks. He was glaring at anybody who dared breathe near him, grabbing your arm with his good hand and leading you quicker to the Slytherin Common Room.

As soon as he muttered the password and the door slid open, the two of you planted yourselves on the leather couch, so close that your shoulders brushed.

You take his mobile arm and hold his hand, smoothing up and down the sleeve of his robes in an attempt to calm him down. Slowly, his jaw starts to unclench and you can feel him relaxing beside you.

“I don’t know why you didn’t just listen to Hagrid, Draco,” you tut, intertwining your fingers with his slender, pale ones. “He strictly said not to approach Buckbeak unless told so.”

“This is not my fault,” Draco mutters bitterly, refusing to look at a perspective other than his own. “If he can’t control his beasts, then he shouldn’t have them! I don’t see why we need his stupid lesson anyway. It’s a waste of my time.”

You sigh and squeeze his hand. “Does it hurt?” You change the subject.

Draco nods. “Yes. When I move it more than when it’s still.”

You pout sympathetically. “Oh, Draco...” you sigh. “Whatever will I do with you, hm?”

“You sound like my mother.” The corner of his lips tug up into a small smile, making you chuckle.

He sighs as she leans back, clenching his eyes shut as a particularly stinging pain shoots through his arm. You frown, wishing you could somehow help him. You unlink your hand from his, causing his silver pools to open up, a frown written across his pale features.

“I’ll be right back,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Draco’s brows scrunch up. “No. Stay.”

“I’ll be back, you big baby,” you promise him.

You keep your promise and you’re back from your dormitory in less than two minutes. Two minutes too long in Draco’s opinion, who looks relieved to see you once you plop back down onto the leather couch beside him, on the other side of him this time, so you’re next to his hurt arm.

“What are you doing?” He asked when you tenderly lift it out of the sling.

You’re careful with him, your fingertips barely grazing the bandages covering his arm as you prop it up onto a pillow on your raised knees. Draco raises his brows curiously as you pull out a selection of colourful pens.

“Pick a colour,” you order him.

“Green,” Draco replies, causing you to smile and roll your eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Making your poorly arm look better,” you beam, popping off the cap for the green marker with your teeth.

The two of you are silent as you hold it between your lips, your writing hand moving out to touch the bandages wrapped around his arm whilst your other hand gently tilts it. Draco’s face shows no sign of discomfort, just curiousity and admiration as he watches what you’re doing, so you continue.

“It’s a snake,” he realises when you’ve drawn half its body near his thumb. “For Slytherin.”

“Yep,” you smile, before you write your name near it.

Draco begins to scold you once he realises that you’re drawing hearts around your name, but he sees the look on your face and doesn’t find it in him to do so. He lets you add a couple of flowers nearby, your artistic talents coming into play when you add a cartoon sunshine and a smiley face.

“It looks like a Hufflepuff threw up on my arm,” he mutters, acting as though he didn’t love it.

He likes the way you’ve drawn over his bandages, he likes how gentle you’re being with him and how you’re taking the time to pay attention to him in a sweet way.

Draco scowls when he realises he’s zoned out and you’ve written “buckbeak waz here” smack bang in the middle of his bandages.

“Y/N!” Draco complains as you giggle, putting the cap back onto the green pen. “That is not funny.”

“It kind of is,” you tease, glancing back up at him.

Draco goes to protest, but ends up lost in y/c/e pools instead. His breath is stuck in his chest and he releases it through a shaky sigh rather than an angry remark, his minty breath fanning your face. Your smile brightens as he leans closer to you.

Draco presses his lips against yours, his good hand cupping your cheek. You kiss him back gently, careful not to get too carried away and hurt the arm that’s resting between the two of your bodies.

“I love you, idiot,” Draco whispers as you pull away.

“I love you too, but you’re the idiot.”

...

Just a random idea I had!

harry potter/ draco tag list: @dracoswifeyy @axva03 @danielsharmannn @dumbledorrs @beiahadid @gloryekaterina @danastik @justmimithings @babydol @cauliflowercounty @booksmione @lexymoniqu @mirandabate28 @purpleskymalfoy @sabor-a-ksoo @malfoycrave @sonia-the-actual-witch @lunalovegoodsgirlfriend @mariah-can-dream

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #malfoy #draco #harry potter #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader #draco malfoy fluff

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 2 years ago

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The "dream"

The dream of my house (if it may be so called) was strange. At first I could not say much of it, because I had no real knowledge of what was in store for me and how my mind would come to be occupied by this or that dream.

I remember only a few facts which seemed to stand out. I remember how it was that my mind began to be occupied by the dream, and then, in what seemed to me another moment, I had already forgotten those facts. When I remembered them, or attempted to recollect them, the fact in question no longer seemed to interest me. They had been, it was true, a strange series of events: my mind had suddenly become involved with an entirely new set of facts, distinct from those I had just previously remembered. But as a consequence of this, they seemed less real than the things they had been supernaturally connected to.

The first thing I remember, upon waking up in my house, was an overwhelming sense of a tremendous presence. It was as if there was some sort of physical force of some kind, a sort of cosmic force of gravity, but multiplied by a trillion billion trillion so as to produce a force which could sweep through the world. It was this physical force which I felt so powerfully -- something like the gravitational attraction of a universe with many millions of galaxies.

Next, I thought, I remembered the two dreams that had just preceded my waking. I had dreamed once that I had been back in college, living with my parents, a high school English teacher, and my parents' friend's family. It was autumn, the holidays were coming up, and my father had been reading aloud a story he had written called "The Green Brain." The plot involved a college student, a boy who was to graduate and become a successful writer. He had the green brain, which had become the property of his friend's boyhood dog, a little shaggy poodle who lived in the college dormitory. It was discovered that this boy could talk and think to his friend, who had the green brain, in his room at the moment that it was found. This had to do with some sort of connection between the human mind and the physical world. As I remember it, the boy had been trying to teach the brain the rules of chess, to the point where the brain was able to take over the job of thinking and act on its own.

Then I had a dream that I was back at the college, in another world. This dream involved my being the teacher and my parents' friend the boy's father. I found that my father had been studying my theory of the mind and trying to teach the boy to do the same. I explained this to my father. He laughed at me and said: "We're not even really serious scientists."

I woke up, having had this dream.

I remember, next, that I was thinking of some strange dream I had once, the night after I had woken up from a second, equally strange dream. In that dream, I was in the bed of my own house, sleeping in my own bed. But I found I could not get back to sleep, so I lay awake in bed for a long time. I felt the most intense terror. The house was very quiet and dark, lit only by the lamp on the nightstand near my bed, and the lamp seemed to burn up and down in some sort of slow, endless dance. Eventually, the room was illuminated by an intense light, and I saw that the lamp was the flame of a candle, a single candle on my nightstand. I was overcome by the thought that the candle was burning all the time and I would never be free of this flame. I tried to sleep, but could not, so I began to think about the strange dream I had just had, trying to remember it. I remembered a lot of the dream but could not piece it together and make sense of it at all.

What remained of the dream, as I remembered it, was that I was lying awake in bed, looking at the flame of the candle, and there was a sound of wind and something falling on the roof of the house. I had had a feeling, in the dream, that the thing falling on the roof was the head of a giant, that I could feel the cold hard skull crunching beneath my hand. I heard it fall many times, and I wondered if my hand were actually there, crushing the skull or not.

Then the dream ended. I woke up, having had that dream.

At this point, I thought about how my dream had ended in a sort of abrupt, absurd way. Had the giant's skull really been falling onto my bed, and I been imagining it -- in my dream -- being crushed by a falling object? Was it possible that the giant was actually an object, rather than a person, and that I had imagined the head falling from a high place? Was that why I was afraid? Because I had not seen the head fall?

But no, I realized. There was no way I could have imagined something which did not actually happen. It was true that I had dreamed of a giant falling from the roof, his skull crashing into my bed. Yet the thing itself had never fallen onto my bed. The giant must not have been really a giant, but a normal-size person. I was not imagining anything, so the giant must have just fallen off of the roof -- or he had not fallen at all!

(The next thing which happened was that I had the sense that something was crawling on my back. I moved my hand to feel for it, but it was only the sheets of the bed.)

Then I realized the full horror of my situation. I was inside my own dream. My house, and everything inside it, was a dream. Nothing was really happening in it. My hand, pressing against the bed, was not touching something solid. There were no real people. There were no physical objects, except the lamp and the nightstand with its candle. There was the giant, falling from the roof, but he was not actually on the roof. He was inside the dream and the dream was inside the dream and everything inside the dream was just a dream -- including the giant, inside the dream. In another moment, I awoke, having had that dream.

The horror had grown when, at the very end of the dream, I finally realized that I was going insane. In other words, I was suddenly unable to distinguish between what was real and what was not. I did not know if, for instance, the giant outside my window was real or merely the figure of some delusion I had been playing with, a fantasy I had been living in. But when, at last, it was all clear to me, I was no longer scared.

I felt like the person who had a dream of some foreign land -- he traveled there, found that it was nothing like what he had dreamed it to be, and returned home disgusted by everything he had seen. All of the images, sounds, and sights of the dream seemed to be merely illusions created by his dream mind, which had played tricks on his senses -- and he would never be free from this dream mind again.

But of course it was nothing like that at all, a dream mind playing tricks on a real man's senses. It was no different from anything else. If I tried to look at it straight, to reject it, to deny it, that was just silly. Perhaps it was a matter of thinking about the dream itself? But no, again, if there was no reality in my house, then no matter what I thought, no matter what I did, I could not escape from my house. It was no different from any other house: I simply thought I was in this dream.

So, then, if it was not a matter of being in the right house or the wrong house, the only choice was to surrender to the fact that it was a house and a dream and an illusion and a delusion. And so, having recognized the full horror of the situation, I woke up, having had that dream.

How it had all come about was that, earlier that day, I had been thinking about the theory of the mind. I had been thinking about the mind and the brain, and about a boy named John, a high school student. I had said to myself that the mind was simply something that had to be discovered. If you knew about the mind, then you knew everything, you could look inside the mind to see how the mind worked, you could know the mind, you would have total knowledge of the mind's workings. If you did not know about the mind, then you were ignorant and could know nothing about the mind. I had been thinking about these things in connection with my earlier dream, in which it seemed that my parents' friend's boyhood dog (the poodle, I think) had the green brain. When the boy who had the brain discovered its contents, he found he could think and speak to his friend about science and philosophy. At the end of the dream, his friend laughed at him, saying: "We're not serious scientists."

Of course I was thinking about the brain when I had the dream. This was part of why the brain was so important. If you discovered the brain, it would explain everything. I would not have dreamed of the giant crashing down upon me. I would have been happy. I would have believed in the theory of the mind, because it would have made everything right. The giant on the roof would not have been there; all of the dreams would have been

#original fiction

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kintatsujo · 3 years ago

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LOZ AU- The Courage of Running Away PART ONE

warnings: Parental abuse, fantasy religion, fantasy religious abuse

So the original grain of this concept was actually a dream I had once but we'll get to that.

A major aspect of this idea that makes it an "AU" as opposed to "just" a "game pitch as fanfic" concept is that it has a worldmap that looks something like this:

[Image Description: A map of a continent. In the center is Gerudo Desert, ringed by mountains that extend from the bottom to top of the continent. On the west side of Gerudo Desert, from north to south, are countries labeled "Termina," "Holodrum," and "Labrynna," while on the east side are countries labeled "Hytopia," "Hyrule" and "Lorule." Hytopia is indicated to be a sky island above a territory labeled "Drablands." Hyrule and Termina are more directly east and west of one another, as the Drablands are the northernmost country of the continent and Labrynna is the southernmost country. There is an indication of another continent to the east, and off the eastern shore is a sky island labeled "Sky Temple." To the south of Labrynna is a proper island labeled "Windfish Isle." There is a legend in the upper left corner that reads "Really generalized AU map. Proportions not to be taken too seriously and most of the sky islands besides Hytopia just aren't there because it would get too busy." End Description.]

Lorule as a physical country to the south of Hyrule rather than a mirror version of Hyrule is because I am weak for dumb puns. Also in general you can describe this as "this is my AU and I do what I want."

Also the map of Hyrule itself in this AU should be considered to be heavily similar to the Breath of the Wild map because that's what I want shh. Does this mean the other countries are similar in scope despite being based on countries from earlier and smaller games? Well, yeah.

I actually tried out making this worldmap in RPGMaker btw but to get something I was happy with I'd at LEAST need a nicer worldmap tileset for MZ. Do I have the skills to make that? Yep. Have I got the time to make that? Nope.

Anyway so as noted there's actually a NUMBER of floating sky islands in this version of the setting, and its version of Link was raised here, in the sky temple monastery/commune/abbey don't look at me:

[Image description: A floating island with a round temple, some sort of pillars arranged in a circle, and a few other buildings, one of which might be a dormitory. The temple has a statue of the Triforce nested in Hylia's wings on the roof. End description.]

A couple notes here since it's the only good place: In this Hyrule there are Loftwings because I said so. There is also a Rito run mail service and there are also balloon-based airships. Again, because I said so. The Rito are the main people who run supplies to the Sky Temple, but there's also a number of hylians with bonded Loftwings living there. The Loftwings are a little less mysterious in that they clearly roost nearby riders they've bonded with; note the large archways kind of indicated on the side of the dorm building. Link, at this point in the story, does not have a Loftwing, which is important for reasons that will become clear by the end of this post. Also, I'm not sure how obvious it is but I do intend that there's a cucoo/chicken coop set up near the dorm; this is for the eggs but the monk or whatever in charge of them is definitely a crazy bird person and probably also keeps messenger pigeons. There would also be a garden somewhere and as one can possibly tell there's a graveyard. Basically this Sky Temple is what I thought Skyloft was going to be a little more like until I found out it was literally a Boarding School Town. Anyway.

The thing is that this Link was discovered to be the Hero of the age sometime in his infancy.

And this is the person who discovered him:

[Image description: On one half of the page is an establishing shot of a hylian man in blue and white (light gray) robes and a hat, with long hair in a braid and graying at the temples. He's approximately middle aged by the lines in his face, tall and slender and moderately attractive. He is wearing heavy gold diamond shaped earrings to match the symbols of Hylia and the Triforce on his clothing. He is frowning, and he is labeled "Astramorus." On the other half of the page are a series of comic panels: In the first, a young Link is hiding from a Rito behind Astramorus's cloak. Astramorus asks, apparently fondly, "Come now boy, where's your courage?" while the Rito sheepishly assures him "Th-that's quite all right, Lordship." In the second panel, a very small Link dressed in the Hero of Hylia's traditional green outfit is wiping his eyes while holding a sword too large for him. There is blood on Link's clothes. Astramorus, standing so that only the hem of his robes are in shot, asks "Come now boy, where's your courage?" And in the last panel, lit as though by fire, Astramorus now has a much older Link by the back of the neck in a controlling manner, once again asking, "Come now boy, where's your COURAGE?" End description.]

By the way the manner in which Astramorus is holding the back of Link's neck in the final panel is a sneaky thing my dad used to pull sometimes; basically if you squeeze just hard enough to hurt nobody but the person you're doing it to can actually tell so you can even do it in public without people necessarily noticing. It took me ages to go "wait that was actually really fucked up that he used to do that." Shoulder touch is good, neck touch bad.

A note on Astramorus's costume: It's basically an evil version of the costume worn by the priestly guy from the Sanctuary in alttp. Astramorus himself, well, I had the idea for him well before Age of Calamity came out but yes he is basically named after Aster, so you can guess that he's more than just a terrible father.

Astramorus has been training Link since he could lift his sword, including trials he should have been too small for and acquiring things for him to fight-- and kill. Link isn't allowed to speak to anyone unless asked questions or told to by Astramorus, not even the other members of the monastery (although perhaps many of the people there have taken their own vows of silence.)

And he's not allowed to have opinions, and he's not allowed to back down in a fight or say that he's too tired to keep training, and this has been going on since Link was six. Astramorus tells him this is the ideal. That never backing down and never stopping is what courage means and what being the hero means. That starting from a young age is only proof of the hero's purity of heart.

And when Link is nearing seventeen, Astramorus tells him that he's going to present him to the royal family of Hyrule, and that at last the HARD part will truly begin. (Keeping in mind that he was putting a six year old through trials MEANT for a seventeen year old.) And Link breaks:

[Image Description: A comic. Link is putting together a paraglider not dissimilar to the one from BotW.

He narrates: Tomorrow we're supposed to set out so that I can meet the king of Hyrule. Which means that this is my last chance to run away.

Link grinds his classic hat into the ground with one boot, and leaves his sword stabbed into the earth behind him. He leaps off the sky island and toward the sun on the horizon.

Link narrates: I don't care if this is cowardly anymore.

End description.]

And THAT one page is what the dream that started the concept was about; some people might remember me talking about it as long as three years ago and it's just been stuck in my head ever since! (Also: I love the idea of there being a Link who starts out wearing the classic outfit and THEN switches to other costumes.)

This is obviously not the end of this AU, lol, stay tuned for where Link finally crash lands (spoiler: He makes it pretty far and you might be able to guess from the map >:3c)

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

Bonus:

[Image description: A headshot flat color sketch of this Link, who has short fluffy light blonde hair and green eyes. He is yelling, with tears in his eyes: "I am NEVER wearing that STUPID hat again!" End description!]

#Loz au: the courage of running away #au august #my art #Loz #Loz au #legend of zelda

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official-weasley · 3 years ago

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A New Home - (The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley AU)

Warnings: A realtor ready to be hexed by Charlie

Word count: 3,695

Characters: Charlie Weasley and my OC Nova from TICW which you can find here

Nova

“So then we finally found the hole where Fang was kept and I wanted to investigate, you know, be cautious but your mum here decided to be a Gryffindor for a day and act brave and just jumped down there. I, of course, jumped right after her and I was a bit mad at her because...”

“A bit?” I raised my eyebrow at Charlie.

“Hey, I am telling the story.” Charlie stuck out his tongue at me. “As I was saying, a bit mad at her because I wanted to go first and didn't want to see her get hurt, and then we talked in a totally normal voice that one can't consider shouting...”

“Right.” I giggled at his ridiculous story-telling.

“Love, stop interrupting me.” Charlie glared at me. “Then we heard Fang and we ran to this cave that belonged to a Red Cap and well, we saved the dog!” Charlie threw his hand in the air all proud and hero-like.

“With a few alterations and details missed that's the story, yes.” I chuckled.

I ran my fingers through Charlie's hair who was resting his head on my knees telling our Red Cap adventure story to the baby in my belly. I am five and a half months pregnant now and ever since I started to show, Charlie has been talking and telling the baby stories, looking at it as if it's the most beautiful thing in the world. Sometimes he places gentle kisses on top of my bump and tells the baby that he loves them already and that he can't wait to meet them. He has evenings when I am reading a book and he gets bored and just starts to rub my belly, singing to it.

I find the whole thing adorable and it warms my heart that he is so excited to be a dad. I know that he is a family man and that he always wished to have a family of his own but I have never imagined him to fall into the role of being a dad so quickly.

The voice he used to talk to the baby was the softest I have ever heard him speak in and his exaggerated stories from the Sanctuary were my favorite to listen to. He made himself look like a strong superhero who all the dragons listen to and if I could, I would listen to him talk all the time. Less than 4 months now and we will meet our baby and I can't wait for Charlie to tell them more incredible stories, no matter how much he changes it or how many details he leaves out.

“I have another one!” Charlie exclaimed after a few minutes of him staring at my baby bump, probably daydreaming about holding our child.

“Char!” I giggled.

“Shh, love. I'm in my story mode.” He sluggishly made his way to me and pressed a tender kiss on my lips.

“So, let me tell you the story of how your mum and dad met.” Charlie went back to resting his head on my knees.

“Didn't you tell this one already?” I teased.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not in the way I am about to tell it.”

“Of course, there are variations.” I tried sounding serious, finding his excitement amusing.

“So, by now you probably know that when mum and I were at school I was a bit obsessed with dragons...”

“Was?” I raised my eyebrows again.

“Am...” Charlie playfully rolled his eyes, correcting himself. “Of course, not as obsessed as I am with your mother and with you.” He kissed the spot right under my belly button.

“Okay, where was I? Right, I am a bit obsessed with dragons...”

“A bit?” I pressed my lips together not to start laughing.

“Love, let me tell this story,” Charlie whined.

“Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” I ruffled his hair and nodded to make him continue.

“So, I was reading this book about dragons and some Slytherins came by to say hello in a bit of a rude way and your mother, amazing as she is, didn't like the way those students were talking to me and she drew out her wand and hexed them all to the ground and the look she was giving them scared them so much that they didn't leave their dormitory for a week!” Charlie gasped dramatically.

“That is not at all what happened.” I laughed wholeheartedly.

“Of course, it did! You're brain just remembers it differently because you're modest.” He smiled gently at me and sent me a wink.

“Your mum is a hero and never let her tell you otherwise, she just doesn't like to praise herself, so that's my job!” I grinned as he said those words, his eyes on my belly.

“And you're doing great and sorry to interrupt you but we have to go.” I cupped his cheek to make him look at me.

“But I was just about to tell them about Helga, the Giant Squid!” Charlie looked disappointed.

“And we would both just love to hear that story but we don't have time. We'll be late to meet the realtor.” I explained.

“That's not in another two hours.” Charlie swung his hand.

“Char, you have been telling stories for those two hours.” I giggled.

Charlie turned around to look at the clock on the wall.

“Blimey, I got a bit carried away again, didn't I?” His cheeks turned scarlet.

“No,” I shook my head, trying to get up, “I love how into your stories you get.”

He offered me his hand to help me stand up. It was already harder for me to get up and I still had so many months to go! I made my way to the bathroom. All I do all day is read baby books, listen to Charlie tell stories, and pee. Pregnancy isn't at all what I expected but not in a bad way – in a way, it's kind of fun.

“Okay, do you have everything?” Charlie asked as I walked down the stairs.

“I have to go pee one more time.” I smiled sheepishly, returning to the bathroom. “Didn't you pee five minutes ago?”

“Don't question the bladder of a pregnant woman, Charles,” I shouted from the bathroom.

“Fair enough.” I heard him giggle, waiting patiently for me to finish.

—

“I think this one will be more to your liking.” The realtor grinned at both of us before turning around and rushing to the building.

“And I think we should change the agent,” Charlie whispered to me looking a bit annoyed.

“One more house, one more chance.” I tried staying optimistic.

Honestly, I was only doing so to stop Charlie from hexing the man who was showing us houses. There are 3 wizard villages around the 3 kilometers radius of the Sanctuary and one Muggle one. We looked at 4 houses so far – one in each – and despite describing to the realtor in advance what we have in mind for our new home, the houses he showed us were nothing that we were hoping to see.

Charlie was getting annoyed, worried about me being on my feet and apparating as much as we did and I was losing all hope that we would be able to find a nice house so close to the Sanctuary. We both don't like to apparate so we wanted a place to live where we could easily walk to the Reserve.

Due to us having quite some money spared and both having a nice salary, Charlie insisted that I stay at home the second I started showing, due to how dangerous our job is. I tried protesting for about five minutes – missing my work due to being home because of morning sickness a lot already – but he didn't want to hear it and with all the years of being together I knew better than to argue with him.

Not that I have anything to complain about. Charlie makes me breakfast every morning before going to work. I mostly read during the time he is working because mum and Penny sent me so many books and the Ravenclaw in me was jumping from excitement. By my 5th month, I was so knowledgeable about babies and giving birth that I don't think I can get more ready. After Charlie comes home we eat dinner together and then we usually cuddle on the couch and tell each other about our day. He either tells the baby stories or we play a game where we try to guess who the baby will resemble more and of course, there's always the question will they like animals and beasts — more specifically dragons.

If I'm having a rough day – where everything irritates me and no matter how I sit or lay down I get uncomfortable – Charlie either massages my feet or my shoulders and brews me mint tea.

Because I was home alone for most of the day and I have a vivid imagination and know how to draw I made some sketches of our dream home. I also researched the villages around the Reserve and tried to get as much information for the realtor for him to have an easier job finding us the right home.

I know how much it means to Charlie that we stay near the Sanctuary and since I felt bad that he was working and I was just sitting at home, I wanted to do my best to make his wish to be near dragons a reality.

What the realtor showed us so far was crushing that. One house was half demolished and we would have to put in a lot of work to get it back in order despite us telling him that we want a completely furnished cottage-like house. The other one was about the size of our home now – which was the main reason we were moving in the first place and we said specifically that we wanted there to be at least three bedrooms as we weren't planning on moving again any time soon and we wanted to have more children.

The third one was empty and Charlie was sure it was haunted and the fourth one didn't have a single piece of wood in it and only a small window in the kitchen.

“Alright, one more and then let me hex him, please.” Charlie made puppy eyes.

“Deal.” I offered him my hand, a playful expression on my face.

“We are here!” The realtor turned to us, the proudest grin on his face.

“Wow.” Charlie and I said together.

“See, I told you you will like this one.”

He unlocked the front gate and rushed to the door of the house, or should I say manor.

“He is mental!” Charlie said through his teeth.

“Calm down, Char. Let's just look around and then get rid of him.” I whispered.

The house he thought so much would be to our liking was nothing like we hoped it would be.

“It has 5 bathrooms, 7 bedrooms, two gardens, and a pool!” The man almost jumped in the air.

“Great.” I forced a smile, looking up the tall ceilings of the dark room, feeling more like in prison than at home.

“I didn't know we apparated from Romania. Is this Azkaban?” Charlie tried lightening the mood, probably when he saw the disappointed expression on my face.

“7 bedrooms, what are we supposed to do with that? It looks nothing like a home and I most definitely can't picture us raising our children here. Imagine them running around and getting lost in their own home. How are we supposed to find them? Shout all around the house? It's not intimate, it's not family-friendly and it's cold!” Charlie's eyebrows came closer together with each sentence, gripping his wand.

“It's so big, I don't even know where that man is so that I could hex him!” He continued.

“Let's just go,” I suggested.

“What?” Charlie turned to me.

“Let's just leave him here. We don't know where he is anyway and before we find him we can already be halfway home if we walk.”

“But...” Charlie tried to protest.

I knew he wanted to shout at the man and probably wasn't joking about hexing him at this point.

“Char, please. I really have to pee and my feet are killing me.” I pleaded, hoping he would let this go.

“Okay.” He sighed. “But I am only doing this for you because you have to pee and I want to massage your feet.”

“Of course.” I nodded and gently entwined our fingers to pull him toward, what I hoped, was the right door to get out of here.

“Charlie, we have to apparate,” I said as we got out of the house after what seemed like 15 minutes spent in this labyrinth.

“No, love. You apparated enough as it is. Remember what the doctor said.” He gave me a warning look.

“But I need to pee and I can't hold it until we come home,” I whined, pressing my legs together.

“Okay, okay.” Charlie pulled me in a hug and started looking around. “There has to be a pub or a restaurant around here where you could go pee.”

“There!” I pointed at a sign that had a plate and a fork on it.

“Go, go, go. Find the bathroom and I'll explain to the staff why we came.” He gently pushed me toward the building.

I tried walking as normally as possible, me having to pee so badly that it hurt while avoiding eye contact with everybody inside the restaurant as I was hoping nobody would stop me. I spotted the bathroom sign at once and rushed inside.

Just as I was ready to head back out, drying my hands in a paper towel, I looked at the mirror and my eyes caught sight of something behind me. I turned around and looked through the bathroom window.

It wasn't just a house. It was a two-story wooden house. It didn't look too big and it had a For Sale sign in front of it!

I hurried out of the bathroom and found Charlie talking to the bartender, telling them why I needed to urgently use the bathroom.

“Thank you.” I smiled at them and pulled Charlie by his sleeve.

“Where's the rush, love? This place looks nice. Let me treat you to lunch. We haven't been on a date for a month.” Charlie bestowed me with one of those smiles that usually weakened my knees but I was so excited now that I couldn't let his charms work on me.

“Maybe later. I have to show you something.” I jumped a little, excitement in my voice.

“What?” Charlie got curious.

“Come with me.”

We exited the restaurant and started up the path to the hill where the house stood.

“Look!” I pointed at it as I finished explaining how I know about it in the first place.

“That looks promising.” Charlie gasped.

We knocked on the door but nobody answered. With one look at each other, we knew we have to see how it is inside. I don't know if it was the excitement in my chest or did I have a good feeling about this.

We knocked again and then tried the door. It was open.

“Just a quick peek and if we like it we go to the agency tomorrow,” Charlie said and I nodded.

It was perfect. It had big windows that let a lot of light in. It was completely furnished with modern yet minimalistic furniture. It had two bathrooms, a master bedroom, and three other rooms – just like we wanted. The kitchen with a big dining table. The living room was spacious with a very cozy sofa and a fireplace – something Charlie was hoping for because it reminds him of the Burrow. The walls were wooden but well isolated and there was even a small guest room on the lower floor.

I watched Charlie walk down the stairs as he finished looking at the upper floor and I couldn't help myself imagining him walking down those stairs every single day. I was ready to tell him that when I felt a weird tickling sensation on the inside of my belly. I narrowed my eyes, not really familiar with the feeling, when it happened again.

Before Charlie could ask me why I was making a weird face, my eyes widened as I realized what just happened.

“Oh, Merlin! Char, come here!” I motioned with my hand.

“What? What is going on? Is everything okay?” His eyes went from mine to my hands on my belly.

“I...I think the baby just kicked!” I exclaimed, moving my hands around to feel anything.

“No way!” Charlie gasped and kneeled before me.

“Yes, twice!”

Charlie didn't know what to do, he was shaking from excitement, looking at my belly as if the baby was about to wave at him.

“It happened again!” I was pretty sure that at this point, my eyes were sparkling.

“Can you feel it?” Charlie asked, hope in his voice.

“Put your hands on it. Maybe you can sense it.” I gestured for him to lift his arms and positioned his hands on my belly the second he did.

“There it was! Did you catch it?” I looked down at Charlie who was staring at my baby bump with his mouth slightly open.

“Char?” I tilted my head, rubbing circles on the back of his hands.

“I...”

“Did you feel it?” I lifted his chin gently so that our eyes met.

The second they did I knew he felt the baby kick because he was on the verge of tears.

“Nova, I felt it. I felt the baby kick!” He stood up so abruptly that I thought he was going to make us both stumble and he squeezed me in the tightest embrace, rocking us back and forth.

“This is a sign.” He whispered in my ear. “The baby likes the house, we have to go to the agency.”

“You want to live here, sweetheart?” I looked down at my belly as Charlie let me go and I felt another kick.

I didn't know if the kick was coincidental or if the baby could understand me, but I didn't care. I looked around one more time and I knew this was it. This was exactly what we were looking for.

“Who are you?”

We both jumped in the air, startled by the voice.

“We...we saw the sale sign and we...we wanted to look around. We...we didn't know anyone lived here.” Charlie stuttered, his cheeks bright red.

“There isn't anyone living here and the house is for sale. I'm the realtor.” The woman carefully took another step forward, offering Charlie her hand.

“Is it still available?” I couldn't hide the hope in my voice.

“It is.” The woman grinned when she saw how excited we were.

She showed us around and told us that the owner who built the house figured that the still life wasn't for him and decided to travel the world instead. She took us to see the garden which was perfect for children to play in. We felt as if we just got the best birthday surprise and without speaking I knew that Charlie already felt at home as much as I did.

However, our smiles were wiped off our faces the second the woman told us the price.

“That is a little bit out of our budget,” Charlie said to me when the realtor left us to discuss her offer.

“A little bit?” I sighed, disappointed.

“We can manage.” Charlie put his hands on my shoulders, making me look at him.

“Char, that's all our savings, and I won't make any money when I'm home with the baby, we can't be that reckless.” I shook my head.

Even though I was in love with the house, I knew we had to think reasonably.

“I'll work extra hours then.” Charlie offered.

“Char, we have to think with our heads here.” I pressed my lips together, to stop my jaw from trembling.

I couldn't stop myself from being so emotional. Of course, it was too good to be true. The house was exactly as we pictured it. I knew it was farfetched that we would get our dream home.

Charlie's brows furrowed when he saw the expression on my face, me obviously failing at hiding my emotions.

“Stay here.” He kissed my forehead and went outside.

I turned around to look at it one more time, to say goodbye to the house we could almost afford. I sighed and turned around to go outside. I stopped, however, when Charlie walked back in with the biggest grin on his face.

“Welcome home, love.” He cupped my face and kissed me hard on the mouth.

“Charles, what did you do?” I wanted to be angry with him so badly.

This was supposed to be a mutual decision and he wasn't thinking clearly, already being in love with this house. But at the same time, I couldn't blame him.

“I played the baby card.” He winked at me, looking proud of himself.

“What?”

“I told her that we can't afford it and asked if there is any way to lower the price a little bit. She asked me why we wanted the house so badly and I told her that we looked at so many today but that the baby kicked for the first time right in the living room and the woman melted when she saw me tear up, lowering the price to our budget!” Charlie jumped in his spot.

“No way!” I breathed. “Saying that I am pregnant, really does wonders!”

“I know!” Charlie lifted me and twirled me around.

“So, this is really our new home?” I asked one more time, the biggest smile on my face, my eyes glistening with tears.

“It's our home.” He kissed me on the nose and then leaned down to press his lips on my belly as well.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.” He said with a shaky voice and rubbed my belly.

#harry potter hogwarts mystery #harry potter fanfiction #hphm charlie #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #hogwarts mystery mc #the weasleys #hphm fanfiction #hp imagine #charlie weasley x oc #hphm imagine #charlie weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #the burrow

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hey-there-love · 4 years ago

Text

Foolish

Summary: Being the new kid is tough right? Try moving across the world to attend the elite hero course at U.A. Unfortunately, following the path of the straight and narrow is difficult when you have a first ball of death throwing twists in it. Nobody said it was going to be easy. New experiences, new interests, new friends...what could go wrong...right? (It’s all cute at first until the smut shatters it...not right now though ;) )

Chapter 1: Welcome, Y/N

Content warning: adult language, cringy situations

Word Count: 1.6K

You let out a sigh as you stood infront of your new dorm, Heights Alliance. U.A high school was Japan’s best school for up and coming pro hero’s and you were chosen to attend. You never thought you’d see the day where you’d finally walk the halls of the prestigious school.

Being a native from the United States, it had always been your dream to attend U.A ever since you watched a sports festival two years ago, unfortunately you never peaked the interest of anyone with your admissions. That was until an earthquake caused by a villains powerful quirk had changed your life.

Long story short it was a normal day at your respective internship with America’s number 3 pro hero, Hopewing, on patrol. A devastating earthquake began and you single handly rescued civilians from a restaurant that caught on fire with no casualties. The villain was apprehended quickly, but an extensive search and rescue mission was done to recover victims of the earthquake. You didn’t think it was a big deal, you were just doing your job, but news outlets picked up on your heroic act and it spread like wild fire.

Countless offers began to stream in for different agencies and schools all across the country. With multiple letters of recommendation, a distinct offer from your dream school rolled in with a promise to be taught in the central . Even if you hadn’t fantasized about attending U.A, you would have been insane to not take the offer.

So, after finishing out your first year at Elite High School you uprooted, packed up your life, and traveled across the world . Classes started next week and nervous was an understatement. You had anxiety as soon as you touched down in Japan. Things here were different. On top of you being a new student in a foreign country you were living in dorms with your classmates.

You always lived at home with your mother and father , never sharing a space with someone else let alone 20 new people who all shared different quirks and attributes. It was nerve wracking, some were going better than you, who knows what level everyone is on. Your anxiety was making it hard for you to breathe. What if-

“Y/N. Did you hear me?” Mr. Aizawa interjected.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir, I kinda zoned out.” You squeaked. Never in a million years you would have thought that when you were told that your home room teacher was picking you up from the airport and taking you to your dorms that it would be the pro hero Eraser Head. You jaw had hit the floor.

“You know Y/N,” he began, “It’s okay to have anxiety about your situation, but I assure you this is the group of kids to share classes with. They are the best this school has to offer. They can teach you a lot.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded.

“Come on, let’s go. Iida and Yaoyorozu are waiting to help you settle in.” He said grasping, one of your suitcases. You took a deep breath and followed your home room teacher up the front stairs. As you walked into the doors, you were greeted by two people. One was a tall man with black hair, glasses, and crazy huge calves and the other was lean woman with a luscious black ponytail and the sweetest smile.

“Ah! There you two are! Welcome to U.A! My name is Tenya Iida, Class 2-A representative and this is Vice President Momo Yaoyorozu.” The man in the glasses announced, smiling widely. He spoke rigidly and bowed.

He threw you off at tad bit with the formality. He talked like he was a politician running for office. “Hey, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you both.” You extended your hand awkwardly since you were holding your carry on and a box. He gave you a firm handshake.

Yaoyorozu smiled and shook her head, “Iida, our classmate looks like her hands are full. Take her box big guy.”

“Oh, right! Sorry about that!” Iida took the box and your suitcase from Mr. Aizawa. You were grateful because it was getting a little heavy in your arms.

“Well Y/N, you’re in capable hands with these two. I’ll leave you to it.” Mr. Aizawa turned on his heel to leave. “Come to my office 30 minutes before class on Monday and we’ll go through your schedule and get you a map of campus.” He called over his shoulder.

Just like that Aizawa the security blanket was gone and you were left alone with the two. They seemed nice, so hopefully the rest were the same. “Alrighty let’s head on up.” Yaoyorozu suggested. Your trio approached the elevator. “So, this is Class 2-A’s dormitory. There are 5 floors in total. The first floor are where the common rooms are located. Including the kitchen, study area, and the gym. Floors 2, 3, 4, and 5 are dorms. Our bathrooms are communal pertaining to who lives on each floor.” She explained.

Holy crap, this place was huge to say the least. You were excited to explore everything, especially the gym but that would have to wait until the jet lag wore off.

“I’ll tell you ahead of time Y/N, everyone is excited to meet our new classmate. If you ever get overwhelmed then instruct them to give you some space. They all can be quite a lot sometimes.” Iida warned, pushing his glasses up on his face.

“I’m sure I will be okay! I’m just happy to finally be here.”

Yaoyorozu gave you an award winning grin. “I’m happy for you too. Someone as talented as you belongs at U.A.” You felt a blush creeping on to your neck.

“Please stop, you’re being too kind. I’ve actually researched the both of you. You guys are so amazing and your quirks are insane!” You replied.

“Well, we appreciate it. So, we’ll bring your things up to your room, give you some time to freshen up, and then head down stairs to meet the others in an hour?” Iida said as the elevator reached the 4th floor.

You agreed as you stepped out and had a look around. The floor was in the U shaped. Next to the elevators was the bathrooms and the entrance branched out into two hallways.

“For obvious reasons the boys are on the right hall and the girls are on the left hall. Your neighbors on this side are Uraraka and Ashido, while the boys are Shouji, Kirishima, and Bakugo.” Yaoyorozu said and lead you to the third door down. She unlocked your door and handed you the gold key.

Iida opened the door and allowed you two to walk in before him. You were sure the big grin on your face was visible miles away.

“Now, I know it’s not much right now, but I wouldn’t stress about unpacking just yet. I’m sure you’ll recruit some help after dinner.” Iida said and sat down your things.

“Thanks guys, I’m going to go wash off this traveling and I’ll see you then.” You smiled. Iida bowed and Yaoyorzo waved before exiting. You quickly made your way to the bed and plopped down, absolutely beat. You began to take in your new home. The white bed frame was against the right wall, matching colored desk was placed against the left wall. There was a giant window on the back wall facing your door and in the corner was a small closet with low dresser inside

You looked around at all the boxes wondering if all your things would fit in this room. Maybe a little unpacking wouldn’t hurt. You opened your two suit cases and began hanging up clothes, organizing sleep clothes, undergarments, and socks in the drawers. Once that was done you began to search for your travel sizes hygiene products, making a mental note to go out for the essentials tomorrow.

Once that was located, you decided to pick out an outfit to wear. Since you arrived in sweat pants and an old t-shirt of your moms; you wanted to look semi decent when you met the others. You went for a simple pair of black jeans and your previous alma mater’s sweat shirt.

You grabbed your phone planning to text your parents that you’ve settled in and made your way to the bathroom. You began to type out a message as you neared the threshold.

Not paying attention as you rounded the corner you crashed into something hard...someone hard.

“Oi, pay attention!” He yelled as everything you were carrying flew onto the floor around you.

“Oh shoot, I am so sorry!”

You both simultaneously began to reach down to pick up your things and bumped heads.

“Fuck. Are you a clutz or something?” He growled holding his forehead. The impact caused you to see two pairs of red eyes glaring at you.

“Look, that was definitely my mistake. I apologize.” Your vision began to come back together and you started to get your things. He reached for the jeans and handed them to you.

You both stood up and then you realized how handsome he was. Spiked ash hair covered his head like a crown, crimson eyes, full lips, and a strong jaw line.

Wow...they definitely make them different in this country.

“Tch, you got a staring problem or did you knock something loose, dumbass?”

“My name’s Y/N, not dumbass.” You shot back, annoyed. He stood silently, shaking his head, and began to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” You questioned.

“Um...you’ve got...” was all he said before pulling the black thong with a cherry print from your shoulder and holding it infront of you with one finger.

“Oh my god.” You squealed and ripped it from his hand. He continued to laugh and walked out of the bathroom. You ran straight to the shower and locked the door. You sank to the floor with your hands covering your face.

Great. I’ve been in Japan for an hour and I’ve already embarrassed myself.

#bnha #bnha x reader #mha #my hero academia #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou

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jusvibbbin · 4 years ago

Text

Right Place, Right Time

Luke Skywalker x Reader

//Anonymous request and my first non Star Trek fic! Enjoy!

//TW: Brief descriptions of blood and murder

You rolled over, half-asleep, and where there should have been the shape of a Jedi master, there was only empty space. You slowly opened your eyes and looked at the sunlight dancing across his pillow. You rolled slowly onto your back and thought absentmindedly about the events that brought you here. Brought you to him.

You were crouched behind a low wall as stormtroopers continued to fire upon the small mining town you lived in. Blood stained your clothes, your own mixing with that of your slaughtered mother and sister. The empire had been crippled but they were far from eradicated and now they were eager to take their frustrations out on any rebel sympathizers. Your family had just been simple cannon-fodder, target practice even. Your face was sticky with tears and the blaster wound in your stomach was making it difficult to breathe. You wanted to stay, to defend your town. But as blood continued to pool beneath your shirt, you realized you would just be another easy target. You angled yourself Northeast, towards the closest major city and began to walk. Walking had turned into hunched limping, turned into almost crawling. After hours of trekking through freezing rain, you finally collapsed just outside the city. You shivered against the biting wind and closed your eyes.

You woke up in a place you didn’t recognize. You sat up slowly, touching your stomach before jerking your hand back in pain. You lifted your shirt to see the wound had been closed up but it would leave a large scar. You looked around the small room. It was sparse, with only the bed you laid on, a chair by the door and a window near the bed. You gathered your strength and pulled yourself up to look out the window. You were deep inside the city, seeing nothing but tall buildings and ships flying in and out. You gently lowered yourself again as the door swooshed open. Holding a bowl of something, was a man with dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” he said and offered you the bowl. You took it cautiously and inspected the soup inside.

“The doctors weren’t sure you’d live through the night. But I knew you looked like a fighter.” He sat down in the chair near the door. “Would you tell me about how you got that?” He gestured towards your stomach.

You recounted the attack on your town as the man listened. He didn’t ask you any other questions, and when you had finished he simply took the empty bowl and left. You sat there, confused and a bit afraid. You knew nothing about where you were or who that man was. Sure he helped you get fixed up but you certainly weren’t in the hospital anymore. He could’ve helped you just to get a better price for you at a slave market. You were too weak to get out of bed, let alone mount an escape; your several hour trip had made sure of that. Out of options, you lay down again to rest.

As the days went by, the man continued to visit you. He would ask you questions about yourself and in return he answered one question from you each time. He chuckled when you asked if you were a prisoner and told you that you were free to leave at any time. You learned on his third visit that his name was Luke and he was a rebel. You thought his name sounded familiar so when he came again you asked if he was a Jedi master.

“And what would you know of Jedi masters?” he said, smirking slightly.

“I know that a Jedi master helped take down the Empire,” you said.

Luke just nodded and took his leave. Once you were feeling stronger, you ventured out of your room to find you were in a little apartment of sorts. A tiny kitchen, one bathroom, a living space and only one bedroom. He was sitting in the living room, reading something when you walked in. He looked up at you and smiled.

“Now that you can move around, we have something to discuss.”

“I don’t have any money,” you said quickly, looking down. “I can’t afford to pay you back for all your kindness.”

“I know,” Luke said. “That’s why I want to know if you’d be willing to come with me.”

You looked up in surprise. What would a Jedi master want with you?

Almost as if he was reading your mind he said, “I want to build a school. To help train other Jedis in the ways of the force. I thought I could do it alone but...” he trailed off, looking out the nearby window onto the bustling street below. He looked back at you.

“Building it will take time. Time that might be wasted if I don’t start locating students. My offer is this: You come with me, help me find a place to stay and start building the school while I gather pupils. Or you leave tonight, no debt owed and you forget you ever knew me.” With that, Luke stood and walked out the door.

You sat down in front of the large window and thought about the options he presented you with. You had nowhere to go. No family left anywhere and no real skills to get a job. If you stayed here you’d probably end up with a job that didn’t pay enough to live off of or run into some unsavory characters. Luke hadn’t done anything to make you distrust him yet and if he really was a Jedi he wouldn’t ever hurt you. You decided your best move was to accept his offer.

Once you told Luke your answer, he began planning for you to leave that night. He brought you some fresh clothes and as you changed, he packed. When you were ready you followed him to a launch bay where he was storing his ship. You looked in awe at the X-Wing.

“R-2? You ready to fly?” he called up to a droid in the ship. The droid beeped back rapidly and Luke laughed.

“You mean (Y/N)? They’re a friend,” he said to the droid before shooting you a smile.

You felt yourself flush and you busied yourself looking at his ship.

Luke and you squeezed into his ship and set out to find the perfect planet.

After travelling for a few days you had finally found a place Luke was satisfied with. Yavin 4. Apparently it was suggested by a friend of his, but he wanted to be sure it was exactly what he was picturing.

You began building the minute you got there. Luke helped you gather materials and you constructed the main training area. It took four days but no doubt would’ve taken longer if not for Luke force abilities. It was amazing to see him in action, lifting incredibly heavy things with the flick of a finger. You looked at him and he just smiled.

After a week, he took off in his X-Wing, leaving you to build the dormitories with the help of R-2. A month and seven dorms later, he returned. You waited eagerly to see who he had found, but when he exited the ship, it was only him. You made him dinner that night and you both ate in silence. Luke hadn’t said one word since getting back and you were starting to worry. You could tell he was disappointed even if he didn’t show it.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice making him look at you.

He gave you the tiniest of smirks and said, “It’s fine, the food isn’t that bad.”

You gaped at him before laughing out, “Big talk coming from someone who didn’t help cook it!”

“But see if I did help, it would’ve been a lot better,” he teased, eliciting a laugh from both of you this time. You nudged him lightly with your elbow and he nudged you back before it turned into a playful shoving match. You gave him a particularly hard one and he slipped off the bench you were both sitting on. You cackled with laughter then, tears brimming in your eyes. He looked up at you and kicked the bench while you were doubled over, causing you to fall almost on top of him. He caught you and you steadied yourself on his shoulders, looking deep into his eyes. You felt your face heating up and in an effort to brush it off you began to laugh. Luke chuckled too and used the force to put you on your feet. You looked at him in shock as he stood.

“That felt… ” you started and then stopped, unsure of how to describe the feeling.

“Someday, I’ll make you fly around,” Luke said with a grin.

You grinned back at him, heart thumping at how close he chose to stand next to you. He walked you to the little hut you had made for yourself and wished you a goodnight. That night you dreamed of soaring through the sky, Luke never too far behind.

He left again the next day. You finished the rest of the building in another month and began decorating with things here and there. At the start of the next month, he returned with a child. He was small and green with big eyes and pointy ears. Luke told you his name was Grogu and that he would be his first student. After this Luke began to find more and more kids like Grogu, and soon the school had six students, eager to learn. He took a break from searching to begin their training and you certainly didn’t complain about having him around more. While Luke trained the children, it was your job to cook and to watch over them whenever he left. They were all polite and pretty easy going, you just had to watch Grogu around the food.

As the months continued, Luke and you got closer, spending time together during meals and after the children went to bed. Although you weren’t Jedi material, you worked with Luke to calm the raging storms inside of you, letting go of your anger and hate. As he taught you that, you slowly broke down the walls he had built up so long ago. One night, after a particularly long day of training, Luke decided to forgo your meditating in favor of telling you about his past and his family. About his brush with the dark side of the force and the anger that used to live inside of him. He spoke of the death of his father and mother and your heart ached for him. You moved from where you were across the fire and, sitting beside him, you pulled him into you and laid his head against your chest. Slowly he wrapped his arms around you and you felt him relax in your embrace.

You stayed like this for what felt like hours until Luke removed himself from your grasp and stood up. You worried that you had been too forward until he extended his hand down to you. You took it and he walked with you to your little hut. You started to enter, expecting him to say goodnight and leave but he tugged you back to him to place a gentle kiss on your lips. Before you could react he was already gone, halfway towards the small hut of his own.

Little moments like this began happening more and more until he stopped going to his hut altogether. And if you woke up early enough on some mornings, he would still be there, holding you against his chest.

You smiled at your memories and got out of bed. You pull on your clothes and wander towards the dining hall to start preparing breakfast. They would be done with morning training soon. You patted R-2 when he rolled into the kitchen and he assisted you in setting the tables. You had just finished the food when the children came filing in. You served the children and they sat to talk and eat their food. You served the last child and realized that Luke still was not there. You left R-2 to watch the kids as you headed outside to find the Jedi master.

You walked around a building and stopped. Luke was standing watching the sunrise. You turned to leave not wishing to disturb him when you suddenly felt your feet leave the ground. You gasped as he moved you to float in front of him, meeting eye to eye. He smiled as he set you down then wrapped his arms around your waist. You placed your hands against his chest and kissed him and you both settled in to watch the sunrise.

#star wars #luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #the mandolarian #oneshot

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tundrainafrica · 4 years ago

Text

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (3/17)

Summary: “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Note: This has been sitting on my computer untouched for a while, along with the timeline I prepared for a multichapter fic. Will probs go back to it soon. Feedback is very much appreciated.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Link to cross-postings: AO3

The forms were so painfully boring, Levi almost regretted agreeing to meet Moblit. One of the few things, if not the only thing, stopping him from backing out of the study then and there, was the hope it could give him an excuse to see her again. He planned to ease himself into the process of meeting her, not wanting to make a complete fool or a complete stalker of himself.

There was the option to ask for her number. The option to ask for her schedule. Or he could maybe just scan through enough pages on google to find some hint as to what the hell she does, where she goes and where he could possibly “accidentally” meet her. The last option had proved ineffective, Levi spent a good few hours a day doing just that. Just in case maybe, the links he found through google do change.

The sheer embarrassment and conflicted feelings that came with having delusion drive his actions, had Levi worse off than before. Although the nightmares that left him in pain in the mornings had become few and far between, he could not help but think that possibly the reason why was because he barely got any sleep anymore, kept awake by his brain trying to process that relationship he had with Hange and the story that was made known to him.

His five hours a night had dwindled into three when classes started. His brain having no time to process the dreams during classes and training, Levi found himself taking up more time lying awake in bed, building the world his dreams were telling him about and how Hange fit into all of it.

The lack of sleep caught up to him particularly when he was sifting through the pages of waivers and information sheets in the coffee shop near campus at nine in the morning. The words started to blur into blobs and Levi became aware of how much he hated Calibri as a font, a small issue in the grand scheme of things. Lacking sleep and utterly frustrated at his lack of progress though, Levi was finding many reasons not to read them.

He eventually gave up, instead checking box after box after box. “When do you need this?” Levi asked Moblit who sat in front of him.

“As soon as possible… But I really recommend you read ---”

“Well, how much time are you gonna give me to read?”

“I don’t have any classes today so I’m pretty much free the whole day.”

“Same.” He felt the venom in his tone particularly resonate and a part of him regretted it as he said it. That day was particularly special. He had no class. With their coach out on a meeting with other schools to discuss the tournaments and line ups this year, he had given the players a day off. Levi pretty much had that whole day to himself yet, he still went to the trouble of dressing up just to meet Moblit only to find out he’d be going through pages worth of documents while half awake. “I’ll just get a cup of coffee.”

Levi was already halfway out of seat when Moblit took out his wallet.

“Let me pay for it.” Moblit handed Levi a few bills. He had an apologetic look on his face as if he did understand the inconvenience the study would cause anyone. The look Moblit gave him suddenly made Levi self conscious about the tone he had been answering Moblit with since a while ago.

Levi took the money with a small nod of thanks. It was free coffee after all and he did not have much leeway given his monthly allowance.

When Levi got back to their table black coffee in one hand, he could see that Moblit had reorganized the papers, the uncompleted page sitting neatly on top. He had also opened the sandwich he had bought half an hour ago and was eating it already

“Before I forget, did you bring Hange’s keychain?” Moblit asked in between bites.

“Ah, I forgot about that.” Levi kept his tone emotionless for fear of having his guilt take over him. In fact, he never did forget about the keychain. It sat on the side table next to his bed, a glimmer of hope that that morning in the track wouldn't be the last time he saw her.

“Maybe I could come back to your dorm with you and get it after this?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. I’m not going straight to the dorm. I have plans after this.” A blatant lie. Levi rarely forgot plans.

“Really?”

Levi made a show of going through his phone as he sat down. “Sorry, I didn’t check my calendar this morning. It looks like I have to work on my own stuff for my thesis with my groupmates.” Seniors did not have as many classes as lowerclassmen so the excuse for classes probably would not have worked. As Levi also was aware, the weight of the responsibility lost by only having two classes a week was replaced with the weight of the expectation of creating their own research to add to the body of knowledge in their major.

“How long is your meeting? Maybe I could stop by...” Moblit looked unsure about his own suggestion as if he too understood too the importance of thesis for any senior.

“I dunno. It’s our first meeting and it’s pretty important since we still don’t have much planned.” At that moment, Levi thanked the heavens for his course. He was taking an interdisciplinary track so people had the option to do their thesis by group or individually. His choice of his classes had made it so that he had to do his thesis individually. Moblit did not need to know that much though.

The magic word “thesis” eventually did work in the conversation between the two seniors and finally, Moblit had dropped his shoulders in defeat. “Sorry if I’m being a little pushy. I guess that keychain is just pretty important to me too. I was the one who gave it to her.”

Levi studied the face of Moblit as they talked. Molit did not have the most memorable face so Levi had not figured it out at first glance. As he allowed himself a few seconds to focus on his features and match it to those in his dream, he realized that Moblit was the same soldier who was constantly following Hange in his dreams. “You two must be close,” Levi said. Hange and I were close too.

"We're childhood friends.”

Levi found himself envying Moblit’s place in Hange’s life. Not wanting to engage that thought though, he instead decided to digress into something more positive for him. “So you'd know why she seemed pretty enthusiastic about her thesis.”

“She’s just passionate and gets a little too excited at times.” Moblit gave an embarrassed smile from what could have been second hand embarrassment. “I really hope you didn’t end up hating her. She really wanted to get to know you.”

“Oh really?” Then why doesn’t she. Levi added to himself.

“She’s been studying athletes since we were in high school. One of our friends was actually the subject of our final thesis for high school and Hange won best research with her. She wanted to move on to studying more high level athletes and she was talking non stop about the possibility of working with an athlete here. Then when we were scouting around for athletes to possibly study, she started showing me a lot of videos of you. She could talk non stop about your form, the height you achieved, your body control. I guess that was until you guys ended up meeting...” Moblit looked like he was aware of the weight of that statement and had tried to lighten the mood with a light laugh.

Levi rearranged that last sentence in his head. Until she met me.

Moblit had trailed off from there and Levi wondered how what kind of face he was making for Moblit to realize he had felt guilty about it.

Moblit gave Levi a consoling look. “She seems to be progressing well with Elijah though.”

For a second, Levi could not fathom how Moblit got the idea that that sentence could console him. In fact, just knowing that Hange had gotten over him so fast, had his chest knotting up.

On the outside though, he made sure to raise his eyebrows and nod, to look at least a little surprised and interested. “How’s her research so far?”

Moblit shook his head in amazement. “She's working at a much faster pace than I am. After what happened with you, it’s pretty admirable she bounced back so fast.”

“I don’t hate her. I could work with her if she really wants to.”

“God, this makes me think I should have started earlier." Moblit rested his forehead on his palm. "Your suggestion might be hard... Last time I checked, she was neck deep in her research with Elijah already.”

Even as a senior, there were places on campus Levi had never visited. All of his classes were clustered in one small area of the campus. The track he would rush to train in would be just a five minute walk away, his dorm a fifteen minute walk or a five minute bike.

He never had any reason to visit the other side which housed the science students and the laboratories. Possibly, one of the reasons why he had never met Hange until that day in the track.

It was a ten minute walk from his dormitory, in a completely different direction from his buildings and the track. He decided to abandon his bike for the more flexible option of walking. He did not know if they had have any place to park a bike nor how long he would be there. More importantly, he wanted the freedom of slowing his pace without considering the traffic as he took in the unfamiliar scenery.

Third floor. Fritz Hall.

In fact, he did not need the directions to the biology department. He could have easily asked anyone among the students there. The more important information was the room number and the laboratory name.

He clutched the keychain in his pocket and took the stairs two at a time arriving into a narrow corridor that stretched into both directions.

Thesis labs. Or that was how Mobilit described them. Each biology professor managed a laboratory for students. There were those who focused on internal medicine, those who focused on epidemiology. In each of those rooms was an office and a lab for senior students doing research under the guidance of a professor of a similar specialty.

If he wanted to find Hange, the office was their best chance. Room 301. It would be at one of the ends of the corridors. He only had to figure out the order of the numbers and from there, walk towards the end of the hall. He gripped the handle of the door and pushed it down, only pushing slightly at the door to open a crack wide enough to peek in.

“May I help you?”

“You’re Erwin Smith…” Just like with Hange, Levi had quickly picked up the name as he saw him.

“Yes I am. Nice to meet you.” Erwin did not look surprised to see that someone had named him by face. That was enough of a hint for Levi to realize that that man was probably their professor on top of how he dressed and how he carried himself.

“I’m looking for Hange Zoe.” Levi decided at that moment not to lie. He was sure he could find a reason to justify wanting to give it directly to Hange. He did not want to consider it at that moment. He just wanted to see her.

“She has class now but you can wait for her inside the lab." He gave Levi a onceover. You must be Elijah then.”

Levi gave a subtle nod, hoping Erwin would at least not take that as a full yes later on. At that point in time, he just wanted to minimize the questions he might need to answer. HIs heart was beating hard and his mind was racing. He had gone behind Moblit’s back, taking note of the schedule shared to him and picking a time where Moblit would not be in the office. Pretense and lies were nothing new to Levi but the presence of Erwin in the room particularly made Levi feel dirty for going through all that just to meet one person. With Erwin in front of him, for the first time he felt guilty lying.

"It's obvious from your build that you've been jumping and running your whole life. I hope you could give Hange some good data. All she’s been talking about was this study since I agreed to take her in."

“What’s her research about?” Was she enjoying working with Elijah so far? Was she happy? There were too many things Levi had wanted to ask but he found himself treading along the narrow path of things only Elijah would have known.

Erwin looked at him questioningly. “She wants to do a case study. I expected she’d at least tell you that much.” He shook his head and smiled. “She always had trouble explaining science jargon to the average person.”

Levi wanted to kick himself. Erwin at least answered his own question on any suspicion he might have about Levi (or Elijah.)

“Elijah, do me a favor and ask her yourself. I’d rather Hange also learned how to communicate science to the average person.” Erwin tapped Levi on the shoulder. “Make yourself at home. NIfa’s in the laboratory right now so she can keep you company. You can also use the computer while waiting.”

Levi only noticed the book bag Erwin was holding to his side as he looked back at him. He could not help but feel a bout of disappointment as he saw the professor walk away. It felt like there was still a lot to learn from him.

Levi entered the laboratory to find a woman with auburn hair hunched over a microscope. “Where’s Erwin going?” He asked.

“Erwin?” Nifa looked up from her “Doctor Smith you mean?”

Nifa. That’s her name. Oddly, Levi did not need to ask for her name either.

Nifa only confirmed it a second later after chastising him for calling Erwin his first name. ‘Doctor Smith did not roll out of Levi’s tongue as well as Erwin. The most Levi could hope for was he never faced a situation where he had to call him by name again. A long shot if he ended up working with Hange or Moblit. At the same time, a worry he did not want to occupy himself with again.

“Hange’s class ends at two so you’re gonna have to wait an extra thirty minutes. You can use the computer over there to pass the time.”

Levi looked down at his phone to see only one bar on the upper right.

“Yeah, problems about being stationed at the corner of the building. No signal. And the wifi is only strong enough for a laptop.” Nifa gestured at her own laptop next to the microscope.

Levi walked towards the computer. It was an older model but it looked well loved. He only had to click on his mouse for the screen to boot up to the home screen with some desktop background which looked like some campaign for underprivileged kids and untapped potentials.

He clicked on the google chrome icon. The option to restore pages from a previous session popped up. He had considered completely ignoring it but he considered it might be someone’s precious browsing history and instead decided to leave it on and to just open an incognito instead for his own personal browsing

He was ready to open one up when he saw the tabs that had opened up in front of him.

Ackerman bags gold, Miller silver in the Collegiate Cup.

Levi looked to the profile on the right to see that it was Hange’s Google profile logged into the account. She was researching him?

That small glimmer of what could have been happiness dissipated as soon as Levi figured out the pattern of the articles.

It wasn’t about him.

High Jump Superstar Miller breaks record in high school meet.

Miller commits to Paradis University.

College sophomore Miller bags gold in Horizontal Jump Event.

It was torture looking through the multiple tabs that reopened. As painful as it was, he still wanted to confirm if Hange really was ‘neck deep’ in her research. The bookmarked pages, he also decided to take a peek at had confirmed his fear. There were fifty if not a hundred tabs with article titles mentioning that one athlete.

Levi found himself closing the tabs as he went through them, a small rebellion to the reality in front of him. Hange probably bookmarked them if she needed them anyway. He stopped as he came across a Youtube video towards the end of the string of tabs.

WATCH: College Junior Ackerman beats both personal and national record for the High Jump Category.

Rookie Ackerman bags gold in the Regional Cup with record breaking height.

Levi recognized those tournaments. Those were his best jumps, one of them the most recent one he had performed, only earlier that year.

Watching the videos with the commentary felt surreal. In the interviews, he was the one answering the questions but somehow, Levi felt like he was still learning something new from the version of himself of the screen. He never did pay too much attention during interviews, only asking the questions when asked in the manner Coach Greg had directed him too.

Not wanting to confuse himself any longer with what seemed like another out of body experience, he focused again on Hange’s Gmail account which was logged into Youtube. Just to make sure his conclusion had been real. She was still watching his videos.

She had committed to working with Elijah. Why?

“Miller was slated to be the new superstar in Paradis University with a vertical jump of 8 centimeters and a promising record height differential of 40 centimeters.”

Levi jumped as he heard someone talk behind him. How long has she been there? It was her voice. Yet at the same time, it was too uncharacteristically serious he did not want to believe it was her. As Levi slowly looked behind me, she only continued to talk.

“But then four years ago, Coach Gregory Rivers scouts a new kid from a small town five hours away from the city. The kid had potential. Enough potential to maybe play backup to Elijah Miller. Levi Ackerman with a vertical leap of 76 centimeters and a record height differential of 37 centimeters.”

“Elijah Miller had a higher overall record. Mike Zacharias and Nanaba Briete too." Mike Zacharias and Nanaba Briete . Those were the two athletes who had cooperated with Hange's study back in high school. Levi had made sure to read her old research, in case he would have to use them to convince her to reconsider him.

“Your numbers in high school weren’t groundbreaking. Unless we consider that you’re 157 centimeters tall." The wonder was back in her voice, completely replacing what he realized was the scientist in her talking. "You did not have the height but you had remarkable control, the core strength, the leg power and the flexibility to fly over the bar even when you’re so close to it. That was what Gregory Rivers saw in you when he scouted you for Paradis University. What he didn't expect was for you to outshine Miller or even the seniors."

Hange came up behind him and grabbed the mouse. As Levi watched her go through the bookmarks, he realized if he had scrolled further, he would have seen more bookmarks.

Rookie Ackerman bags gold in the Regional Cup.

Super rookie carries Paradis to nationals.

She clicked one of the bookmarks and played the the video that came up. Levi could only watch silently as the Levi on the screen ran towards the bar, and propelled himself through the air. His vertical was definitely much higher than 37 centimeters at that point. In college though, no one in his team was counting anymore. The importance was he got through every jump without ever touching the bar.

"I wanna know Levi. From a nobody from a no name school, how did your height differential increase twofold. More importantly, how is it that you've not failed a single jump since you entered university? It's amazing. The amount of balance, core strength and body control to keep your body flexible enough not to hit the bar. The amount of leg strength needed to jump that high. You really must be superhuman.”

“I’m not.” Regretfully, Levi’s denial was enough for Hange to snap out of her state of what seemed like euphoria.

Hange put her hand to her mouth. "Sorry, I talked too much." With that, she resisted the closeness and was once again a meter away just standing awkwardly behind him. "I guess I should go back to work. Did Moblit tell you what time he'll be coming?"

"Moblit's not coming today."

"Oh... Can I help you with something?" Once again, Hange was watching her words and her movements with him. That was not the Hange from his dreams. The Hange that had introduced herself the first time they had met on the track. It pained Levi to see her like that and he wanted to make it right.

Levi had prepared himself for possible interactions when he read through Hange's old works. At that moment, Levi took control of his feelings. " I came here because I wanted to ask if you'd be willing to consider." He kept his words as careful as Hange's were with him. "I read your case study on Nanaba Briete and Mike Zacharius. And I thought I could probably provide you with similar data, maybe better data. Let me jump for you."

"Levi…"

"No. I wanna jump for you." Levi did not know what Hange had planned to say. At that point, he did not want to give her any doubts to build on.

This time I'm not going to lose you. A voice inside him said. It disappeared soon after and Levi wondered when he had he lost her.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #levi x hanji #fanfic

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flourchildwrites · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! Hope you're ok! I wanted to ask, excuses if I'm bothering you, if we will have kerosene 2 this year or should we wait 'til next one 🤭.

😅 This has been in my inbox forever, anon. I wish I could have gotten to it sooner. It was not my intention to ignore you. I really appreciate nice asks, and I felt terrible that I wasn't able to give you an answer when you sent this. I am never bothered by asks like these, anon or otherwise.

I have every intention of working on the second chapter of Kerosene and getting it posted. In fact, I was making excellent progress with it until mid-November of 2020. And then... I got pregnant. 🥰 And a short time later I developed severe morning sickness (which was more like constant, unrelenting nausea)... 🤢

If I hadn’t been in the middle of moderating @fmasecretsanta2020, I probably would have announced a hiatus, but I really wanted to see that commitment through. Likewise, I didn't want to announce my pregnancy during my first trimester. (I’ve always been shy about sharing IRL stuff on tumblr.) Even though I know I’ve still got a long way to go to get to 40 weeks (anything can happen), I’m happy to say I’ve made it to my second trimester, and the morning sickness is beginning to let up.

In the meantime, I do have a sneak peek of chapter 2 of Kerosene:

The hallway is blessedly empty, and Ray grasps his chance to dart toward the staircase that will take him to his room in the basement. He almost makes it before the rough sound of a young man clearing his throat cut through the muffled sounds of Gilda clearing the table.

“Retreating so soon,” Norman’s cold voice croons. “If I remember correctly, you have dish duty with Gilda for the next month. You aren’t skipping out on the first night of our new schedule, are you?”

Damn, he forgot about the dishes. Still, Ray schools his expression, obliging his mouth to twist into a smirk and his back to slump forward. The young man’s clenching hands find refuge in his pockets, and he turns to face Norman whose expression is light, except for the intense focus in his eyes that is all silver and cold.

Ray scoffs in defiance as he starts back toward the kitchen. “That was clever of you, killing two birds with one stone. You covered your tracks and punished me for forcing you to stray from your plan. Don’t worry. You can thank me later when you come to your senses.”

They’re close now, standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder on either side of the hallway. It’s close enough for Ray to watch as his words do their worst. If sharp looks could cut, Ray knows he’d already be in pieces on the floor.

“I don’t have to do anything,” Norman whispers with a menacing tone. “I just have to be patient. Do you really think you won’t hurt Emma when she realizes that you don’t really love her in that way? She is quick and intuitive. She’ll see your indifference for what it is, and then I will have every reason to make that rule with the full support of the household. So, I guess I should be thanking you, Ray.”

Norman has a point, but Ray won’t be rattled. He allows his gaze to remain lazy and unclenches his hands within his pockets. Norman is, after all, a rook of a person. He’d shrewd, to be certain, but he moves in straight lines, with near tunnel vision on the goal in sight. Ray, on the other hand, considers himself the black knight, a bit unpredictable at first glance and more than willing to play the villain for a good cause.

“But what if you’re wrong?” Ray asks, calm and collected. “What if I was only ever waiting for you to step aside? We both have history with Emma, give or take some silly cup phone craft that, let’s be honest, she can’t even remember. I’m almost as smart as you, more athletic than you and reckless just like Emma. When you think about it, we’ve got a lot in common, and I’m not emotionally constipated.”

For a split-second, Norman can’t hide his reaction. His thin face pales, and his baby-blue eyes flash brighter with malice. Ray won’t pretend it doesn’t feel good to know he’s struck a nerve, even if it’s mostly bullshit. Though Norman is emotionally constipated. Every good lie needs a kernel of truth.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would. Unless you have a sudden urge to confess to Emma. Then, I might be feeling magnanimous enough to step aside, but that would be too easy, wouldn’t it Norman?”

The last time Ray and Norman had this kind of passionate disagreement, Ray found his fist buried in Norman’s shirt, quietly throttling him in their Grace Field dormitory. Somehow, Ray managed to snatch the superior bargaining position from Norman that night, and this time won’t be any different.

Norman’s cold stare pins Ray to the spot. His lips curl into sneer, blood boiling beneath pale skin. And yet, there is no violence in the hallway, just harsh words and cockiness countered by fury. It’s Ray’s move.

“It’s settled then,” Norman declares. His voice tremors in the slightest. “I’ll give you the space you want to mess this all up, and I’ll be there for Emma when you break her heart-“

“You’ll be there for her as a lover?”

“No, like a brother,” he spats. “Like the family I am to both of you.”

“If you say so, boss.”

Ray starts to move past Norman toward the kitchen, but he feels his companion's shoulder bump against his as they pass in the hallway. The shoulder check isn’t forceful, but the friction between them is palpable. And Ray knows there is no accident; it’s intentional. Neither Ray nor Norman are children anymore. Norman is the head of household, and Ray, though somewhat reclusive, is a senior member. Physical fights are not couth.

Words, however, are fair game. They can cut deep if a person knows how to use them. Ray’s rusty perhaps, whiling away his days between oil changes and brake pad replacements in a noisy garage, but he knows an opportunity when he sees it.

“Sweet dreams,” he quips, knowing Norman will have anything but.

And yet, as Ray enters the kitchen to start washing the dishes alongside Gilda, he can’t help but feel he’s got his work cut out for him.

#tpn #the promised neverland #big news #norman #ray #emma #noremma #you ask i answer

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rons-wheezely · 5 years ago

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Ron || Inseparable

[Requested]

Genre: Fluff

Summary: this dude you don’t know really wants to be your friend??; Ron x reader “...I mean, I guess he’s cute or whatever, so it’s fine.”

----

It all started in charms class. Ron dreaded that class more than anything in the world, spells and incantations were definitely NOT his thing. Today, Professor Flitwick set up a bunch of locks in front of each student. He cleared his throat and said," Today, students, we will be learning blah blah blah.."

Every time Flitwick speaks, it's like jibberish to Ron. He's tried many times to concentrate, but last time he pulled a muscle or something because he had migraines for a whole week. Hermione says it's because his brain was smaller than a pea. What in the bloody hell was a "pea"? Definitely not piss, he hoped. He sucks at this class and it's painfully obvious..

"Ah, everyone play close attention to y/n's incantation and the subtlety of her wand. It's near perfect for a first try."

Ron turns his sights to you, who is now burning a Gryffindor red, as you redo the spell for everyone in the class. There was something beautiful about how you casted the spell, dare I call it magic. Ron Weasely couldn't take his eyes off of you like a star struck fan meeting his favorite quidditch team.

After that, Ron kept spotting you in crowds from class to class. He didn't want to sometimes, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't escape the memory that replayed in his head. The way his heart leaped out of his chest, how his fingers itched to shake yours for the first time and introduce himself. It was like you radiated some type of aura that drew him in. It's an overused description, but there was no other way to describe the way you pulled him in like a sinking black hole. A problem still stood between him and his desires, however.

"I just wish we weren't strangers and that I could ask her out already, but then I'd--" Ron pouted to his friend Harry, who always seemed to get the girls. "You wouldn't understand though, since everyone seems to think you're the 'chosen one'." He mocked the voice of the masses. Everyone loved Harry, after all.

"Why don't you just talk to her?" Harry shovels his lunch into his mouth,"There's nothing stopping you, is there?" Harry says this so nonchalantly as if he's done it several times himself. "Unless you're chicken of course."

Half out of spite and half out of impatience, he wanted to prove that he could be friends with you. He introduced himself to you in the next class he shared, and days after that he'd wave to you when you two made eye contact. He thought it was embarrassing to be so excited to see someone he didn't know well, but it didn't stop his heart from beating faster than it had before.

After a week, Flitwick assigned a new project. "You shall team up with one person of your choosing and begin today's work." Before he was even finished speaking, you could see people making eye contact with their friends across the room. You didn't really have anyone you knew, as per usual, until you suddenly make eye contact with Ron Weasley.

His eyes are sparkling and it's like his whole life has lived up to this moment. He coughs into his elbow as he dusted off his robes when he stood up. Did he remember to brush his teeth this morning? God, he hopes so. He takes a deep breath and walks over to your seat. "Do you, uh, want to be partners?" He shifted under the feel of your gaze,"For the project of course; only if you want to."

Of course, you aren't in the position to say no, being that you've never been asked before, so you agree. However, that was just the beginning of your friendship with Ron. Overtime, it was like you two were always joined at the hip. You two would meet up and walk to class together, eat together, and even get caught up in Harry's adventures together. You never expected to be this close with Ron, or even anyone for that matter.

After school hours, you and Hermione hung out in the courtyard. It was her move in Gobstones when she brought up an interesting question. "I'd never actually think I'd see the day that Ron could be tolerated for more than a week. How do you do it?" She paused and mulled over her words. She spoke up again saying," Do you ever think he's clingy sometimes? It's like you two are conjoined twins or something... I'd say he was in love with you if it wasn't for Lavender Brown."

You hesitated in your response, feeling as though you were revealing too much," ...I mean, I guess he's cute or whatever, so it's fine." you attempt to shrug it off and focus on the game. Hermione's eyes burned holes into your skin as you tried to shake her uneasy stare.

Hermione gasped so loudly, it caught you off guard. Did you say too much? Did you say something wrong??? You shushed her in a panic, looking around at the other students staring at you. She recomposed herself with a deep breath, but she exploded in a flurry of whispered questions.

"So you think he's cute?? As a friend or... as something more? How long have you felt this way? Does anyone else know about this?" Hermione bombarded you with so many questions it was like the room started spinning.

"I wouldn't mind if we were something more," You could see Hermione about to gasp again," BUT I really don't think this is the kind of love story you think it is. He dated Lavender Brown up until two days ago, so he probably doesn't think of me that way, like you said earlier." The more you talked, the more you felt like you were giving away the secret krabby patty formula. Why can't you shut up?? "He probably likes girls like that."

"Or maybe he wanted you to be jealous?" Hermione spoke and won the game in one smooth turn,"Think about it." As you clean up the game pieces, she puts her hand on your shoulder. "I know that when he was dating Lavender, he walked with her to class, right? But don't you normally walk with him?" Hermione strolled the hallways with you. This situation was so stiff the outside air of the courtyard was suffocating you, leaving no room albeit to give in.

"I.. I don't know, Hermione. Maybe we're thinking into it too much?" Your head drifts to the outside scenery of Hogwarts. "Besides, why would he want to date me?"

A couple days later, Ron came back to the old routine of walking with you everywhere as if he'd never left. You wouldn't have even noticed if it weren't for that conversation with Hermione. It itched in the back of your mind like a spider on the back of your neck. You felt like you were reading too far into his jokes, and when he laughed at one of yours, there was a flip in your stomach and blood rushed to your face.

Now, his touches set your skin ablaze. It lingered and danced along the surface of your senses. Every breath of his that reached you was warm, his hands were a little too soft, and you could list a thousand other things that sent your mind running. Does he really like you like that?

"I thought she'd crack by now, Harry." A frustrated Ron brewed in his own bits of misfortune. "What if she's not into me like that?"

Harry looked at him. Harry's eyes glance at the clock before responding," Ron, it's like 11 pm and you're thinking about y/n?"

Ron nodded with a pout on his face.

Harry sighed," Why don't you just tell her?" Before Ron could reply with a flurry of doubts, Harry interjected. "You've literally had a crush on her since like First year, and I haven't seen you make your move. If you're that worried, you could try..." He looked around the dormitory room for a clue. His glasses glinted like an anime character when his eyes settled on a potions book. "You could always make a uh, forgetfulness potion?"

That seemed to satisfy Ron's stress and he laid back down in bed. He predicted that in the next 24 hours, he'll have confessed his feelings and then forced you to take his concoction of a "forgetfulness potion."

"Y/n." Ron had taken you outside the Great Hall during lunch. His palms are so sweaty and cold it could be a slip 'n slide (except he wouldn't know what that was.) You were talking to Harry about the next Quidditch game when he decided to confess. It took some persuading to leave the conversation, but you eventually gave in.

"Yes, Ron?" You prodded his shoulder. His face was pale, and the awkward silence was becoming unbearable. "...Ron? Are you monologuing or something?"

"I... I like you."

"Uhh me too? That's why we're friends." You weren't sure if your mind was playing tricks on you again. He wasn't confessing.. right?

"No I--" He stammered. "I like you. Like a lot. Since first year.." This was it. Any second you would reject him, and then he'd have to whip out his potion and apologize profusely while you guzzle it down.

"Oh." You blinked. Once. Twice. "Really? So this is a confession?"

"Will you go out with me?" He looked into your eyes. He was done for, he knew it. But, the disgust of rejection never came.

"Yeah.. I'd actually like that, Ron." You hugged him with all of your might. If this was a dream, then you hoped you'd never wake up. You were trying so hard not to let your feelings get the best of you, if only you knew he felt the same way. This past month's emotional procrastination was futile, and you can now admit the blooming feeling in your heart.

Ron was stunned. It was only until his robes were getting wet that he looked down. You were crying, but they were tears of joy? He really was prepared for the worst. Once the shock had died down, he embraced you. He never thought this day would come, but when it did, it was the greatest emotion he'd ever had. He kissed your forehead as the rest of your face was buried in his arms. "I love you."

----

-A/N-

Just a heads up, in the future I’d like to write and include other HP characters if y’all don’t mind (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ It’ll be about other HP characters in the same year probably, except for the other Weasleys. Love you guys ♡

p.s. I’m sorry that I took so long on this rip I wrote a whole different ending where you fake date Harry for a hot second, but it got out of hand and I scrapped it lol

#ron weasley #ronald weasley #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley x reader #x reader #hermione granger #harry potter #HP ron weasley #HP imagines #harry potter imagine #hogwarts #hogwarts imagine #hogwarts x reader #fanfic #hp fanfic #ron weasley fanfic #imagine #hp x reader

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patricia-von-arundel · 5 years ago

Text

Of Boar & Beast: Part 1 - The Lucky Charm - 2

Rating: T

Summary: “As though there’s finally someone who understands how I truly feel” - words Marianne never dreamed that she would say; words Dimitri never dreamed that he would hear. Theirs should have been the perfect ending to a perfect love story. But in the inferno of war, endings are so rarely happy ones…

Crimson Flower Route

Part I: The Lucky Charm Chapter 1 | AO3

At Marianne’s bedside, the desperate screams of the past were silenced. The room was in one of the old towers - quiet, removed from the tumult of war that had descended like a plague of grasshoppers into the newer parts of the castle. There was never quiet there, and much of the time it drove him half-mad, especially on the days when his head ached its worst.

But there were no screams, nor headaches, here. Just the bed, where she was tucked beneath furs and quilts, and a fireplace he had ordered be kept aflame day and night - leaving the room, by the standards he was accustomed to, stiflingly hot. It was a small enough burden to bear, for her sake. He would never forget the state of her when she was found: her skin blanched and raw from the frigid wind, her lips and fingers a darker blue than her hair. Unconscious though she was, she had nonetheless curled tightly against his chest, her body wracked with tremors, as they rode quickly for Fhirdiad, the day’s intended training session cancelled without a word.

He would never have dared such intimacy under any other circumstances, and the proper action would have been to let someone else carry her - Dedue had even offered - but in that unbelievable, terrifying ride home, he could not stand even the thought of entrusting her to anyone else. Not until they were back to the walls within walls of the castle. Not until he knew for certain she was safe.

He did not know where she had come from, nor why she was here - questions such as those could wait for as long as was necessary. She needed time to recover. Time to heal. Almost two weeks had passed, and thought he had seen little of it himself - he could not spend even half as much time as he wished watching over her - the physicians and healers assured him she was making steady progress in her recovery. She still did not wake often, but when she did, it was no longer in confusion that quickly gave way to panic. She was eating more, though he would not have known it from the hollows in her cheeks or the protrusions of her collarbones through the gown in which she slept.

“She’ll be just fine, Your Highness,” one of the healers said, invariably, each time he was able to find a chance to visit, as she and the others gathered their things and quickly disappeared, offering him unrequested privacy. The healer was an older woman, pink-cheeked and sweet, likely very good for timid Marianne - but Dimitri could not understand the knowing smile she gave him, each time she said the words.

Well, no, he could - but only if he accepted he truly was utterly incapable of hiding his feelings. He knew the importance of it. Especially now. Yet he seemed not in the least able to manage it.

He had known he was falling in love with her almost from the first moment he saw her - by the stables, just a scant few days after they had all arrived at the monastery. He was exploring, in hopes it might quell, at least for a time, the anxiety brewing within him. Almost five years had passed since the crown of Faerghus had found its bloody way onto his head, but it was as yet only in name, not in practice. He had never actually led... except in battles he could hardly remember as anything more than a blur of savage, chaotic joy. And now he was in charge of some of the most esteemed, talented future nobles and warriors in all of Fódlan, and yet again by no more merit than the accident of his birth. It was madness.

And so he wandered, on that last day before his true test began.

Away from those who knew him, he was rarely given a second glance - and why would he be? Without the symbol of his position as house leader - the blue half-cape he still was not entirely sure how to clasp to the shoulder of his uniform - he appeared as just another student, like so many trying to get his bearings. He had looked into the greenhouse - wondering if Dedue had yet discovered it, and imagining how pleased he would be when he did - and into the depths of the fishing pond; wandered briefly around the marketplace, enjoying the brief novelty of it, the permanent structures. There were market squares in Faerghus, of course, but the cold and the cost kept the time they were open short and seasonal; far more goods came from traveling merchants moving from place to place as the weather allowed. But he had nothing to buy at Garreg Mach’s marketplace, and despite the exotic wares, he soon wandered on.

He heard the voice before he even realized he was nearing the stables - a sweet, soft, clear voice that reminded him, immediately, of an instrument he had once heard. A harp, perhaps? Whatever it was, it froze him: “Oh - hello there! What’s your name?”

His first assumption was that they were speaking to him, but unless they were hiding behind a wall, he saw no one.

“Dorte, is it? I see you have a little sign and everything! It’s very nice to meet you, Dorte. Do you like apples? You do? I thought you might - all of my father’s horses love apples. Shall I bring you an apple, next time I visit? And some for your friends?”

Dimitri did not yet know - how rare it would be, to hear such confidence in her voice. He just knew that voice was beautiful - and that he was deeply curious about who she might be talking to. Why would she need to bring anyone here apples? He had just seen plenty of spring fruits and vegetables for sale in the marketplace - and far more than would ever be available at home in Fhirdiad, this early in the year.

He began to step around the long, low building - and that was when he heard a distinctly horse-y snort.

“Oh, that’s the spot? Right there between your ears. I’ll have to remember that. What about your nose, then? It’s very soft!”

She was talking to... a horse?

He looked around the corner of what he had now worked out must be the stables. Not intending to snoop, but rather simply... to better assess this curious situation.

When he saw her, though, he knew there were no possible circumstances that would lend him the strength to take one step further... or to draw any attention to his lesser presence, his existence, at all.

Her face, her whole self, seemed to radiate the same gentleness and kindness as her voice. Large, dark eyes; those pale tendrils of hair framing her cheeks. And...

Her smile.

Like her confident voice, he had no idea then how rare that smile truly was. All he knew then was that it was, beyond any possible shadow of a doubt, the most beautiful smile in the world.

“I’ll have to find a brush for you - you’d like that as well, wouldn’t you? An apple and a nice brushing - doesn’t it just sound lovely?” The horse had its head against her shoulder; she was patting its neck.

He had to force himself to leave - surely, he did not want to be so rude as to eavesdrop. More than he already had.

He learned her name from Annette. There was little surprise there; Annette seemed to have gotten to know everyone at Garreg Mach - not just students, everyone - before the first week of classes and training was done. “Hello, Marianne!” Dimitri heard her call one morning, waving at the girl as she walked past the first floor dormitory, a stack of books clutched against her chest.

She froze and looked up - and it was like a deer, catching sight of a distant archer. Her dark eyes were wide, and for the first time, Dimitri would see the even darker crescents beneath them. There was no smile now, and her voice was soft and unsure: “Oh... hello.” And then she ducked her head and hurried off, her pace markedly quickened.

He watched her. He couldn’t seem to help himself. Not because he liked looking at her - well... not only that - but because he found himself strangely, desperately eager to try to understand her. She was almost always alone, rarely speaking to anyone, moving from place to place with her head down. She ate alone. She sat alone in the library. She prayed alone (and often).

When he finally worked up the courage to offer prayers alongside her, she gave him the briefest of glances - then quickly turned back to the Goddess, closing her eyes once more. But she voiced no complaint, and he hoped that might be silent acceptance of his presence.

He wasn’t focusing all of his energy on getting to know her, of course, nor even as much as he might have wished to - there was already more than enough to occupy his time. Not only classes and training, but also the strange, unnerving incidents around the monastery, and increasing rumbles of greater conflict to come. There was palpable tension. And, of course, he could not help but notice what seemed erratic behavior in Edelgard - someone he’d once believed he knew so well. She behaved as a stranger now, and worse, a dark, potentially dangerous one. He feared for her - and he feared for Fódlan.

And... there were his own difficulties. He tried to dismiss them as merely indicative of stress. For a certainty, they were all under stress. Were headaches and increasingly troubled dreams really such a surprise, under the circumstances? The echoes of what seemed almost-familiar voices, pulsing against his skull? Fragments of memories, trapped briefly within his subconscious.

Still, it was all sometimes very difficult to ignore.

He attempted to talk to her, bracing himself for how awkward he knew it would be. She rarely looked at him. She never smiled.

When she asked him to stay away from her...

Of course, he did. It should not have been unexpected, truly. And he knew a bit more of her, by then, schools being as prone to scurrilous gossip as they were. He knew she had lost her family, though not the details of what had happened, and that she had been taken in by a distant relative only a few years previously. He knew Hilda had grown close to her, and seemed very protective. And he knew some believed she had a Crest, for some reason kept carefully secret.

The last, Dimitri thought he might understand the reason, whatever it might be, better than most. His own Crest might be a boon on the battlefield, but was nothing but a nuisance in his everyday life. Perhaps hers was somehow similar.

Then that day in the dining hall - he stood like a fool for what seemed half an eternity, hoping a place to sit anywhere else, anywhere at all, might open up. When he finally asked to join her - sitting, as almost always, alone - and she said yes, he felt a surge of relief; a dam bursting inside him, when he hadn’t even realized until that moment that it had existed at all. Stumbling over his own words, speaking nonsense he immediately regretted - until, for the first time, she smiled at him.

Then, she laughed. She laughed.

A dam broken there, too. Slowly, slowly - she no longer shied, nor asked him to stay away. (And what a relief, to realize he had not overstepped any bounds, when she had said that!) Smiles came more frequently. She introduced him to Dorte, and Dimitri bowed and offered greeting, expressing more elegance than he was typically able to muster when telling Dorte what an honor it was to make the acquaintance of such a good friend to Marianne. Her face lit up then in a way he had never seen before.

And Dimitri knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he was in love with Marianne von Edmund.

What might have happened, had war not erupted across Fódlan? Had Edelgard not fallen sway to ill-advisors and some incomprehensible longing for power? Had he not had to watch, from his post at a northern gate, Dorte’s bridle still clutched in his hand, as the carriages and horses from the alliance carried the woman he loved away?

He could make peace with losing her - so long as she was safe. What he had feared most of all was that her voice might one day join those within the tender-bruised confines of his skull. They did not merely echo, now. Now, they raged.

Her voice did not come.

But she had.

She shifted in bed, head falling from side to side, her brow furrowing. The blankets around her shifted, twisting away.

He tucked them back around her - carefully, carefully.

She stilled. Her face relaxed once more.

He would need to have word sent to the man she now called her father - Rodrigue had advised him of this the day they had found her, and reminded him of the importance of it when, just days later, word arrived that both Edmund and Gloucester territories had declared for the Empire, despite the continued silence from Duke Riegan. Dimitri could not disagree with the necessary of informing Margrave Edmund, but before he ordered it done, he wished to hear from Marianne the reason why she had risked her life to come to Faerghus. He would not do anything that might put her in further danger.

His hand was still resting against her shoulder, where he had smoothed her coverings back around her, when the knock came at the door - and he jerked back as if she was suddenly aflame. She twitched, but no more.

“Your Highness?” Dedue’s voice. Of course. “My apologies. It is almost time for your war council.”

“I - yes. Thank you, Dedue.” He allowed himself only a moment - and a smile for her, though she could not see. “I must take my leave, I’m afraid. I shall return as soon as I am able. Rest well, Marianne.”

She stirred, but did not wake.

He was not able to make it back to her until the next evening. The war had led to several private discussions, including one with Rhea and Seteth to discuss how best to assist church faithful should Edelgard renege on her promise to allow them to worship as they pleased. Scouting reports, drafts of orders and declarations, rumors leaking from both Empire and Alliance - his attention was required by all, despite his powerlessness over what seemed the vast majority of it. There were whispers old Duke Riegan was finally on his death bed; Dimitri did wonder what Claude might do, when the Alliance was in his hands - follow Gloucester and Edmund to the Empire? Maintain neutrality? For some reason, Dimitri could not imagine him allying with Faerghus - but at the same time, when had he ever been able to understand what Claude might do? He was just as likely to be knocking on the front gates before tomorrow’s breakfast as anything else, as far as Dimitri might predict.

He wondered if Marianne might have a better grasp of Claude.

It was growing dark by the time he was able to see her. The fire was, as he had requested, still lit, but he put the candle he carried to the lamps as well, dispelling at least some of the shadows. He disliked shadows, the furtive movement of them - and he disliked even more the idea of anything moving furtively in a room where Marianne was asleep, all alone.

He also didn’t like the thought of her alone in any circumstances - well, unless she truly chose to be, and not out of some misguided idea that she was harmful and dangerous. He wanted her to feel wanted. And not from anything but herself - no Crest, no title, no family connections. Wanted as Marianne.

Strangely, sometimes, she reminded him very strongly of someone else he had once loved - a more nascent, confusing love than this one, but just as true. They were nothing alike, nothing at all, but it wasn’t their personalities that brought similarity to mind. No - it was the way the world seemed to insist on treating them, buoying them about like a child’s wooden toy lost at sea, eating away at their trust and their security.

He reached out, smoothing away a strand of hair that had fallen across her face - it made her nose twitch. The way the lamplight caught that hair - “You even look like her,” he said softly.

“Nnh?” She turned her face towards him. A moment later - to his surprise - her eyes squinted open, finding his. “...Dimitri?” Her voice was hoarse - but still beautiful. So beautiful.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Of course: she was finally awake when he was present, and he was already in a position that required apology even before a proper greeting.

She worked an arm from under the pile of blankets and used a finger to rub one eye. “No, it’s fine... I... I think I’m ready to be awake. Just for a little while. I woke up earlier, but... no one was here.” She turned her head again, considering, then back again. “And... um... if it’s okay to ask... where is here?”

He almost laughed - not to mock, but simply because her question struck him as almost painfully endearing, and because she had been brave enough to ask, and because this meant, it must mean, that what the healers said was true: she was getting better. She was going to continue to get better. She was going to get well.

“Castle Fhirdiad,” he said. “I must apologize for the rather chaotic atmosphere here at the moment.”

“Fhirdiad? I... This is... Fhirdiad?”

“Don’t let the warmth fool you. It is only in this room, I fear.”

She was the one who laughed - as hoarse as her voice, but laughter nonetheless. “I can’t believe I made it...”

He allowed himself a smile - surprised at how easily it came. They didn’t often, these days. “You made it, indeed. Though if I may ask - how? The trade wagons, perhaps? That’s mostly all that crosses the borders, these days - did something happen during the journey?”

Too many questions - her eyes darted away, and her cheeks flushed. “No. I... I made a mistake. I didn’t bring enough money. So I... I walked.”

“You...?” He stared. He couldn’t help himself. “You walked? All the way from...”

“From my adoptive father’s house. And... I don’t think him likely to want me back, but I can find somewhere else to go if... if coming here was a mistake.” She closed her eyes, but it did nothing to hide the sadness, the pain in her expression and her voice: “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you.”

“Marianne...” The arm she had pulled from the coverings was still out, resting at her side. He reached out - almost impulsively - and stroked his fingers against the back of her hand, over the smooth little bumps of her knuckles. “I remember what I said - and I meant every word. You came and found me, just as I asked of you, and I shall keep my end of that promise, as well: anything within my power to help you with, I will do. If that - or even part of that - is allowing you to remain safely here in Faerghus, then none shall force your departure as long as I still breathe.” He hesitated, then took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I would never force you to stay against your own will, of course, but if I may express a rather selfish desire, I... I hope that you will stay.”

For a time, there was silence - and a divot still between her eyebrows. “Who did you mean?” she finally asked - very softly. Her eyes remained closed.

“Who did I...?”

“You said... I looked like someone. Um... didn’t you?”

“Oh.” He should never have said that, whether she could hear him or not. “Yes, but... it was just a passing thought. I was thinking of the past.”

“The past...” The divot deepened. There were creases at the corners of her eyes. “You meant Edelgard, didn’t you?” She bit her lower lip then - hard. As if already punishing herself for allowing the words to escape her.

But he was the one who had gaffed - ruining her brief, awakened happiness before he had even realized it was tonight a possibility. But he would not lie to her: “The way the light caught your hair... Yes. I did mean Edelgard.”

“You’re very interested in her. I, um... I saw you watching her. Quite... quite often. Before...”

Flummoxed, he had no words for a time - just his own jumbled thoughts, which seemed to scatter like minnows each time he attempted to gather them. “My relationship with Edelgard is... rather complicated.” It would take all night just to try to explain his own feelings, much less make a broken attempt to go into the scraps and fragments he knew of her history; his fumbling attempts to speak to her during their earliest days at the monastery had provided hardly more information than he might have gotten asking the same questions of a wall. Best to keep it simpler: “She was my stepsister, once. Her mother was married to my father, but both lost their lives at Duscur. Edelgard is... she’s family I fear I can never regain.”

Finally, Marianne opened her eyes. He could still see the deep pain there - but now he knew it was for him. That somehow made it harder still to see: he would never, should never, add to the tremendous emotional burden he knew that she already bore.

“I had no idea,” she said softly.

“Very few do. Or ever did. It was not the most pleasant of circumstances for anyone involved. But I know you must be tired - I will bore you with the details, should you wish to hear them, at a later time.”

“I’m... I’m sorry. Both for what happened, and... for watching you. I should not have done that, but...”

“I must confess to the same.”

Her eyes met his - confused, now. “What?”

He finally laughed - but it was brief, and contained little humor. “A sin upon us both, if you were to name it so. I watched you as well. I... wished very much, then, that I better knew how to ease the sadness writ so clearly across your face.”

She bit her lip, hesitating - then attempted a smile. “You did, I think. Maybe. I... don’t feel very sad right now, though it... it feels as though I should. I feel... warm.”

He looked towards the fireplace. “Is the fire too high? I can tamp it down. Or help you remove some of your coverings. Perhaps I overdid it, when I -”

For the second time, she laughed - and twisted her hand, so that her fingers could wrap around his own. “A good warm,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed once more. “You are... You’re gentle.”

He was taken aback - rarely had anyone called him something so preposterous. “...Gentle? Me?”

She smiled at that - that tiny, lovely smile. “Yes. I think you’re very gentle, Dimitri.”

“But I... I cannot... Please, do not trust me with gentleness. Please.”

“But you are.” Her fingers released his and reached up, cupping his cheek. Her palm was cool and soft. “You... you called me lucky once. Do you remember?”

For a moment, all he could focus on was that hand. Who had last touched him so? And... could he...? He shook his head, just to clear it - then realized his gaffe. “No. I mean - yes, of course I remember. Yes. I... I apologize. Yes. I remember saying... something like that.”

She laughed again. He loved her laugh. He loved...

“If you can name me lucky,” she said, “then I can name you gentle.”

“I... suppose that is fair.” His own smile, now, felt rather rueful - ridiculous.

She was still looking up at him. Her eyes, darkened almost to black - the dim light? - were on his, and her brow was drawn. “Dimitri...?”

He took a deep breath. “I will try. I can only promise... that I will always try. Try to be gentle with you.”

A chance - and he risked it. He bent closer, and let his lips brush against hers. Her hand tightened against his face, and he let the kiss deepen, feeling her shudder. Wondering at it. Longing for it.

For her.

But still...

He was careful.

He was... gentle.

She was the first to pull away - and her eyes ,when they met his again, looked almost frightened. She spoke a single word: “...Stay?”

He struggled to catch his breath - and to understand. “Marianne, I -”

“Dimitri.” Surety in her voice, if not in her expression. “Please. Just... just stay. I don’t want... I don’t want to be... alone.” Her hand found his own once more - and pulled. “Please?”

Unfamiliar intimacy - her back against him, his arms curling awkwardly around her. The sound and feel of breathing, slowing to sleep. She was warm. Soft. Her hair smelled of woodsmoke and lavender and something like worn leather. A good smell.

Chaste intimacy. Beautiful, unearned intimacy.

When he slept, no voices found him.

#of boar and beast #dimimari #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #marianne von edmund #dedue molinaro #(very briefly)#fire emblem three houses fanfiction

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