#it would be nice if anyone could understand what the professor says

[qrevo]

first day of the semester starting in a horrible L-shaped classroom where half the students can't even see the white board, listening to possibly the most confusing/confused professor i've ever had (we're unsure if he plans his classes or just improvs them as he goes), and i'm sitting in a chair so painfully uncomfortable i feel like harry dubois getting softlocked by chair death in the beginning of the game. great start guys can i jump off the window now

[odileeclipse]

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 11

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“Your friends are an amusing bunch,” he remarked, his tone light, but you could hear the hint of genuine amusement beneath it. You huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah, they are. They always keep things interesting.” His golden and blue eyes flickered with something unreadable before he nodded. “A lively group. It is good to have such company.” You smiled at that, looking ahead as you walked. It really was nice, wasn’t it? But right now, you were somewhere else entirely walking beside him, about to see where he worked. That was something beyond nice. The idea of stepping into his world, into the space where he uncovered truth itself, sent a thrill through you. Walking with him like this almost felt like a dream, and maybe it was a strange, wonderful dream you hadn’t quite woken up from yet. As you and Shadow Milk Cookie walked through the quiet halls of the Scholars’ Wing, the air between you felt… different. Not quite formal, but not entirely casual either. A strange in-between. You stole a glance at him as you walked, his long strides effortlessly measured, his presence as composed as ever. Still, this felt surreal. You were walking with him not as a struggling student fumbling for understanding, but as someone he had invited along. Your fingers fidgeted at your side before you finally broke the silence. “I can’t believe this is how my morning turned out. I woke up thinking I’d be in Professor Almond’s class, but instead, I’m here. Following the Sage of Truth to see his mysterious research.” You nudged him slightly with your elbow just enough to see if he would react.

He did, but only with the slightest lift of his brow, his expression unreadable. “Mysterious? You make it sound more dramatic than it is.” You gave him a skeptical look. “Oh, come on. You have an entire wing of the Academy hanging onto your every word. Half the scholars here probably think you’re holed up somewhere unraveling the secrets of the universe.” He chuckled, a low, warm sound. “And what do you think?” You considered that for a moment. “Honestly? I think you’re probably the type to leave behind cryptic notes just to see if anyone can figure them out.” That earned a soft hum of amusement from him. “A compelling theory.” “So you do leave cryptic notes?” “I never confirmed that.” “You didn’t deny it either.” His golden eyes gleamed with amusement. “And what would you do if you found one of my so-called cryptic notes?” You grinned. “Solve it, obviously.” Shadow Milk Cookie gave you a sidelong glance, something almost thoughtful behind his gaze. “Would you, now?” You scoffed. “You sound doubtful.” “Not doubtful,” he mused. “Merely curious.” Before you could respond, you turned a corner, and the atmosphere shifted. The once-familiar halls of the Scholars’ Wing were quieter than usual. The further you walked, the more removed you felt from the bustle of the main halls. That’s when you realized where you were heading. You blinked, slowing your steps. “Wait… this way…” You frowned slightly, glancing around. “I’ve been down this hall before.” Shadow Milk Cookie gave a knowing nod. “Have you?” Your brows furrowed as the realization settled in. “Yeah. A while back. I was just wandering around and” Your words caught in your throat as the memory hit you. Oh. The slightly open door. The small, dimly lit room. The cryptic cards. The notes scattered across the desk. Your eyes snapped to Shadow Milk Cookie. “Wait. This is your research space?” He tilted his head, lips twitching in amusement. “You sound surprised.” “Well, yeah! I thought this was just some abandoned study room or something.” His eyes flickered with something unreadable. “You thought knowledge would simply be left to gather dust?” “…Okay, when you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.” He let out a quiet chuckle. “Come. Since you’ve been here before, you should have no trouble finding your way.” You swallowed as you followed him toward the door, your heart beating just a little faster. The last time you had stumbled upon this place, you had felt like an intruder. But now? Now you were stepping into it beside him. And somehow, that made all the difference. Stepping inside, you were hit with the same scent of parchment and candle wax, the same quiet hum of knowledge lingering in the air. But this time, the space felt different. Less like a hidden corner of the Academy you weren’t meant to find and more like… an invitation.

Your eyes immediately flickered toward the desk, and there they were the cards, still stacked neatly, waiting. Shadow Milk Cookie’s presence beside you remained poised as ever, but there was something knowing in the way he watched you. “Strange, isn’t it?” he mused, clasping his hands behind his back. You turned to him. “What is?” “To find yourself here again.” His gaze swept over the room as he walked further inside, trailing his fingers along the edge of a shelf before looking back at you. “Though, I suspect this time, you’ll stay longer than before.” You cleared your throat, willing away the heat creeping up your neck. “I, uh… wasn’t planning on running out this time.”

“Good.” There was an unmistakable glint in his golden eyes. “That would be terribly inconvenient.” You exhaled a soft laugh before your attention was once again drawn to the desk. Hesitating only a moment, you reached for the stack of cards, flipping one over. The same strange, fragmented writing greeted you. "What cannot be created, yet always exists?" The memory of your past confusion came flooding back. You had tried piecing together these riddles before, turning them over and over in your mind, but never quite grasping them. Shadow Milk Cookie stepped closer, peering over your shoulder. “Still pondering the answer?” You frowned at the card. “It’s… vague.” “Most truths are.” You glanced up at him, his expression unreadable but patient, as if he were waiting to see how you would approach the puzzle this time. “…It’s not something simple, is it?” you asked, more to yourself than him. A soft hum. “That depends. What do you consider simple?” You rolled your eyes. “Oh, don’t start that.” His lips curved ever so slightly. “And here I thought you wanted to prove you could solve my ‘so-called cryptic notes.’” Your fingers tapped against the desk, mind churning. You weren’t about to let him win that easily. You turned the card over in your hands again, then hesitated. “It’s… truth, isn’t it?” For a moment, there was silence. Then, Shadow Milk Cookie smiled not his usual unreadable smirk, but something softer. “Well done.” Your heart skipped. You blinked at him. “Wait, I was actually right?” “Are you surprised?” “…Yes.” Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled, stepping around the desk to take a seat. “Then perhaps you should start having more faith in your own reasoning.”

You stared at him, then down at the card still in your hands, something warm settling in your chest. Maybe you were meant to be here. Your fingers tightened around the card as you exhaled slowly. The warmth of his praise still lingered in your chest, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the small weight of guilt pressing at the back of your mind. You glanced toward the desk, eyes flickering over the neatly arranged notes and books no sign of the scattered mess you had left behind that day. He must have cleaned it up himself. You swallowed, shifting your weight before clearing your throat. “By the way…” You hesitated before meeting his gaze. “I, um… I’m sorry. For the mess I made last time.” Shadow Milk Cookie raised a brow, his expression unreadable. “When I was here before,” you explained, rubbing the back of your neck, “I knocked some stuff over. A stack of parchment, some quills… I panicked and, uh… bolted.” You winced at your own admission. “I was afraid of getting caught.” A quiet moment stretched between you before he finally spoke. “I know. Well not of you being the one but I knew of someone’s presence here.” You blinked. “You? Wait. You knew?”

His lips twitched in amusement. “You think parchment scatters itself? I didn’t suspect you of course but…” You felt your face grow warm. “Well I was hoping maybe it was already like that and I just… made it slightly worse?” Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled, resting his chin against his hand. “It was not.” You groaned softly, covering your face with one hand. “Okay, yeah. That’s fair.” He regarded you for a moment before shaking his head, his tone light. “I will admit, when I returned and found everything in disarray, I briefly considered that I had unknowingly discovered a very mischievous ghost.” You peeked at him between your fingers, incredulous. “You thought a ghost did it?” He gave an elegant shrug. “It seemed a reasonable hypothesis at the time.” Despite yourself, you laughed. “You would sooner believe in mischievous parchment-scattering ghosts than consider that some poor, lost student accidentally stumbled in here?” “It appears so.” He leaned forward slightly, golden eyes glinting. “And yet, here you are, proving me wrong.” Your breath caught slightly, not at his words, but at the way he was looking at you measured, observant, expectant. You cleared your throat, willing yourself to hold his gaze. “So… you’re not mad?” He hummed in thought. “Not mad.” His gaze flickered briefly to the desk. “However, next time you drop something, I expect you to pick it up.” The warmth in your face returned full force. “Right. Yeah. That’s fair.” Shadow Milk Cookie leaned back in his chair, a satisfied expression on his face. “Good.” You exhaled, shaking your head. Of course, of course he had known something was off. And yet… he hadn’t scolded you. Hadn’t lectured you. Just waited for you to acknowledge it on your own. And somehow, that made the guilt ease just a little.

Shadow Milk Cookie watched you carefully, as if assessing something unspoken. Then, without a word, he turned, stepping toward one of the many shelves lining the walls. His fingers trailed over the aged spines of books before he carefully selected one, setting it down on the desk with a soft thud. "You came here expecting to see my mysterious research, did you not?" His voice was even, but there was something else beneath it subtle amusement, perhaps. Or maybe something more patient, more knowing. You straightened slightly, feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation. “Well… yeah. I mean, if you don’t mind showing me.” He gestured toward the desk, an invitation. “Then come see for yourself.” Hesitant but eager, you stepped closer, peering at the pages as he flipped the book open. It wasn’t filled with endless paragraphs of dense text, as you had expected. Instead, the pages were lined with diagrams arcane circles, constellations, and something that looked like alchemical formulas, though far more complex than anything you had studied. Notes were scrawled in the margins, some in neat, precise handwriting, others hastily written as if recording fleeting thoughts before they vanished. "This," Shadow Milk Cookie began, his voice smooth and measured, "is a study on fundamental truths the forces that govern our world. Why magic bends to certain principles. Why some theories hold, while others crumble." He tapped a particular passage, drawing your attention to a line of text. "Even what we accept as 'fact' can sometimes be a matter of perception. And when perception changes… so too does truth." You swallowed, eyes flicking over the words. Some of it made sense. Some of it might as well have been in another language. “This is… way beyond anything I’ve studied.” "For now," he agreed. “But that does not mean it is beyond your reach forever.” You turned to look at him, confused. “What do you mean?” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a long moment before he leaned back, folding his arms. “Tell me… what is it that drives you to learn?” The question caught you off guard. “I uh” You hesitated. “I guess I just… want to understand. I want to be better. I don’t want to feel so lost all the time.” His expression softened, just slightly. “A good answer.” He glanced toward the notes scattered across the desk. ���Far too many pursue knowledge for the sake of recognition. Status. They seek to be known rather than to know. But you…” His golden eyes met yours once more. “You remind me of what true scholarship is meant to be.” Your breath hitched. “What?” He exhaled lightly, his voice calm but certain. “Someday, if you reach the upper levels, you could study alongside me.”

Your heart nearly stopped. Study alongside him? You stared at him, sure you had misheard. “You’re joking.” “I do not joke about truth.” His lips twitched slightly, just enough to suggest amusement. “I have been seeking a student with drive, one who values knowledge for what it is, rather than what it can give them.” He tilted his head slightly. “You are not ready. Not yet. But if you continue forward, if you refuse to let failure turn you away… then, perhaps one day, you will be.” Your chest tightened, warmth flooding through you. Shadow Milk Cookie the Sage of Truth someone you had admired from afar, someone whose knowledge felt leagues beyond your own was telling you that you could get there. That you weren’t hopeless. That maybe, just maybe, you had something worth cultivating. You lowered your gaze to the notes before you, your hands tightening slightly at your sides. “I… I won’t let you down.” He hummed, thoughtful. “That remains to be seen.” You looked back up at him, determination burning in your chest now. “Then I’ll just have to prove it.” A slow smile curved at the corners of his lips. “Good.” The moment had started simply enough. He had pulled another tome from the shelves one filled with old scrolls he had painstakingly deciphered over time. You had leaned in, careful yet eager, as he carefully unraveled one of the delicate parchment sheets, revealing intricate script and faded diagrams.

And then you had recognized it. “Oh wait. I know this one!” Your voice was filled with excitement before you could think to temper it. “This is about the ancient celestial inscriptions, right? The ones found near the ruins past the Ghost City?” Shadow Milk Cookie stilled for a moment, his golden gaze flickering toward you with interest. “You’ve studied this before?” “Well not studied exactly,” you admitted, still staring at the scroll as if it might slip away from you. “But I read about it on my own time. I was curious about old magic that isn’t commonly used anymore, and” You sucked in a breath. “This was your research?” He gave a small nod, though he said nothing, as if waiting to see what you would say next. And oh, you had plenty to say. Without even thinking, you launched into everything you had pieced together on your own. How the inscriptions weren’t just decorative but functioned as a form of magical theory condensing entire formulas into elegant, flowing symbols. How some scholars debated whether they were meant to be read like a language or understood intuitively, like music. How his research had been the most compelling out of everything you had read because he had found connections no one else had. And you kept talking. The excitement in your voice grew as you dove into your thoughts, into what you had thought you understood, where you had gotten confused, what theories had fascinated you the most. Your hands gestured as you spoke, pulling from half-remembered books, from fleeting ideas that had once captured your curiosity. It wasn’t often you let yourself talk like this not in front of someone like him. But Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t interrupt. He didn’t stop you, didn’t correct you, didn’t give even the slightest sign of impatience. Instead, he listened. Really listened. His golden eyes never left you, his expression softer than usual, his usual air of detached wisdom replaced by something else. Something… sincere. You didn’t even realize how long you had been talking until you finally stopped to take a breath, your cheeks feeling a little too warm from how animated you had become. You hesitated. “Ah sorry. I just”

“Why are you apologizing?” His voice was quiet, but there was something almost gentle in it. You blinked. “I don’t know. I just” You rubbed the back of your neck. “I guess I don’t usually get to talk about things like this.” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a long moment, then with the same patience he had shown you all along he carefully placed the scroll between you both. “You understood more than you realize,” he said, his voice measured but sincere. “Your thoughts were unrefined, but not incorrect.” You swallowed, unsure how to respond to that. Then, slowly, he tapped a portion of the parchment, his golden eyes still watching you. “Shall we refine them together?” Shadow Milk Cookie tapped his fingers lightly against the ancient parchment, his golden gaze flickering with quiet amusement. "You mentioned the celestial inscriptions functioning like a language or music an interesting comparison. However, there is a crucial distinction." You leaned in, eyes locked onto the elegant symbols, their flowing script like waves across the parchment. "A distinction?" He nodded. "Music is interpreted. Language is deciphered. But these inscriptions… they are neither. They do not seek to be understood in the way we process spoken words or melodies. Rather, they are realized." You furrowed your brows. "Realized?"

A small smile ghosted his lips at your curiosity. "Here." He pointed to one particular symbol, the ink faded with time. "This symbol what do you see?" You studied it carefully. The shape was familiar, something you had seen in your readings, but putting it into words felt difficult. "It looks… almost like an equation, but more fluid? Like a cycle rather than a fixed answer?" His smile grew just a fraction. "Not a bad observation." He straightened slightly, regarding you with measured patience. "This inscription represents a concept rather than a direct statement. If one were to translate it conventionally, the meaning would be lost." Your lips parted as realization slowly dawned. "So… it's not about reading it literally. It's about understanding what it embodies?" "Precisely." He tapped another inscription, this one branching off from the first. "This is why traditional methods of translation have failed. Scholars who sought rigid definitions overlooked the way these symbols are meant to function. They are not passive words on a page they interact, shift, and reshape meaning depending on what surrounds them." Your mind whirled, the weight of what he was saying sinking in. "Wait, so does that mean each symbol isn’t fixed in meaning? They change based on their placement?"

A satisfied glint crossed his eyes. "Exactly. Just as the position of a star in the sky changes its significance in navigation, the placement of these inscriptions alters their purpose. One symbol alone may suggest balance but paired with another, it could indicate interruption, or even conflict." Your fingers traced the air above the parchment, hesitant but intrigued. "So… how do you realize them? If there's no set definition, how do you know if you're understanding them correctly?" Shadow Milk Cookie's gaze lingered on you for a moment before he spoke again, softer this time. "That is the heart of the challenge. There is no singular truth written within these inscriptions. They require patience. Insight. A willingness to abandon absolutes in favor of comprehension."

You exhaled, the weight of his words settling in. "No wonder scholars struggle with this." He chuckled. "Many do. Those who seek only clear answers rarely find them here. But those who persist who learn to listen, uncover knowledge that cannot be attained through conventional study." Something about the way he said that made you pause. He wasn’t just talking about research. He was talking about you. Your voice was quieter when you finally spoke again. "Do you think… I could ever learn to do that?" Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you carefully. Then, with a certainty that sent warmth through your chest, he said, "If you have the patience to refine your thoughts, and the courage to challenge what you believe you know… then yes. You could." You swallowed, a slow breath escaping you. He believes I could. For the first time since arriving at this academy, the idea of learning truly learning felt less like a battle you were destined to lose. And more like a path you had just begun to walk. The rest of the morning passed in a blur of parchment, ink, and quiet exchanges. Shadow Milk Cookie took his time guiding you through the intricacies of his research, pausing whenever you had a question, indulging your curiosity with measured explanations. It was unlike any lesson you’d ever had less structured, more organic. It felt as though, for the first time, you weren’t just memorizing knowledge. You were understanding it. Eventually, though, the moment had to end. Shadow Milk Cookie straightened, rolling up the scroll before placing it back into its case. “I have other matters to attend to,” he said, his tone composed but not distant. “A lecture to teach, among other responsibilities.”

You nodded, still processing everything you had learned. “Right… Of course.” You hesitated before offering him a small, earnest smile. “Thank you for showing me all this. I really appreciate it.” Something flickered in his gaze not amusement, but something softer. “It was time well spent,” he said simply. “We will meet later for our usual tutoring.” Your heart swelled just a little at that not only because you were grateful for the tutoring, but because it meant today wasn’t the last time you would share a space with him like this. As you turned to leave, Shadow Milk Cookie gave you a final nod. “Be well.” You walked away, still replaying everything in your head. The research, the way he had looked at you when you’d spoken with excitement the way he had said, with absolute certainty, that you could understand it someday.

For the first time in a long time, you felt… hopeful. Until you turned a corner. And stopped. A few scholars stood ahead, lingering near one of the grand arched windows, their robes pristine, their demeanor effortlessly composed. They belonged here. You could immediately tell upper scholars, the kind who spent their days buried in debate and research, the kind who wouldn’t spare you a second glance under normal circumstances. Yet they were looking at you now. One of them, a scholar with neatly combed hair and sharp, unreadable eyes offered a small, knowing smile. “You’re the one who’s been spending time with the Sage of Truth, aren’t you?” Your stomach twisted, but you nodded cautiously. “Um… yes?” The others exchanged glances, something unspoken passing between them before another stepped forward, tilting their head slightly as if considering you. “That is interesting,” they murmured. “We’ve seen you coming and going from his office quite often.” A third scholar, this one leaning casually against the wall sighed dramatically. “I suppose it is kind of sweet,” they mused. “You admire him. That’s understandable. He’s… inspiring, isn’t he?” There was something off about the way they said it. You forced a small, wary chuckle. “I mean, yeah, of course. He’s brilliant.” The first scholar hummed in agreement. “He is. Which is why he has so many responsibilities. So many things that require his attention.” Something cold settled in your chest. The second scholar nodded, smiling just a little too kindly. “It must be exhausting for him. Having someone constantly trailing after him.” The words weren’t harsh. There was no outright cruelty in their tone. But that only made it worse. Because it was careful. Deliberate. Another scholar sighed, shaking their head with feigned sympathy. “We’ve seen it happen before, you know. Students who latch onto a figure like him, thinking it means something more than it does.” Your throat went dry. The first scholar gave a small chuckle, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, no need to be offended. We’re just looking out for you. Wouldn’t want you to get too caught up in something that isn’t… realistic.” Another nod. Another too-kind smile. “It’s admirable, really,” one of them added. “But you must understand, he doesn’t have time to entertain every student who clings to him.” The weight of their words pressed against your chest, something heavy, something suffocating.

Is that what it looks like?

Is that what he thinks?

Your lips parted, but no words came. You weren’t sure what to say. What you could say. One of the scholars tilted their head. “Just some friendly advice,” they said lightly. “It’s best not to mistake patience for personal interest.” Then, just like that, they turned back to their own conversation, as if you had never been there at all. You stood frozen for a moment, your thoughts swirling into a storm of doubt.

Were they right?

Had you been foolish to think he saw anything in you beyond another student in need of guidance?

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to move, to walk away before your thoughts could betray you any further. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You told yourself you wouldn’t let it bother you. But as you made your way back through the halls, their words echoed in your mind, refusing to leave you alone. Your footsteps felt heavier with each step, their words lingering in your mind like an ink stain you couldn't scrub away.

It’s best not to mistake patience for personal interest.

You clenched your fists at your sides, willing yourself not to let it get to you but it was too late. The seed of doubt had already taken root. Then, a memory surfaced the second time Earl Grey warned you. "You should be careful," Earl Grey Cookie had said, his voice low as you sat beneath the Academy Gardens’ grand archway one evening. The lanterns had been lit, their glow flickering against his contemplative expression. "Careful?" you had asked, confused by the sudden warning. He had sighed, swirling the tea in his cup. "I’ve heard whispers. Some of the upper scholars have been talking about you. Not cruelly, exactly… but not kindly either. They’re wondering why the Sage of Truth is spending so much time tutoring you." Your stomach had twisted at that, but you had brushed it off with a nervous laugh. "That’s ridiculous. I’m just a struggling student, and he’s… well, he’s the Sage of Truth. It’s not that deep." Earl Grey had given you a pointed look. "You might think that. But people like them? They see patterns where none exist. And they don’t take kindly to outsiders gaining attention from someone as esteemed as him." "Outsiders?" you'd repeated, the word cutting sharper than you expected. "You’re not like them," he had said simply. "You’re not here to climb the ranks. You don’t care about prestige or titles. That makes you different." "Is that a bad thing?" "To people who have spent their entire lives clawing for status?" He had taken a slow sip of tea before sighing. "Yes. Yes, it is." You had scoffed at the time, unwilling to believe it would matter. But now? Now, you wondered. Had those scholars been the ones whispering about you before? Had they always been watching, waiting for a chance to remind you of where you stood? You swallowed hard, forcing yourself forward.

Maybe you were overthinking. Maybe they were just passing scholars with nothing better to do than meddle in the affairs of those beneath them. But deep down, you knew better. They had chosen their words carefully calculated just enough to plant a thought that would fester in your mind. And it was working. The thought of sitting through another lecture after lunch where nothing of value would be taught made your stomach twist.  What was the point? History of Food?  If you weren’t going to learn anything, wasn’t it better to just… not go? One day won’t kill me. You let out a breath and changed direction, heading toward the dining hall instead. Lunch wasn’t exactly something you were looking forward to, but it was better than sitting alone, stewing over the scholars’ words. Besides, you hadn’t seen Chai Latte, Hazelnut Biscotti, or Earl Grey since the morning. Maybe being around them would help shake the unease clinging to you.

The dining hall was already bustling when you arrived, the midday rush in full swing. Students and scholars alike gathered in their usual groups, some poring over notes between bites, others lost in heated debates. The comforting aroma of fresh bread and spiced soup filled the air, but even that wasn’t enough to lift your mood entirely. You spotted your friends at your usual table near the grand windows, where sunlight spilled in and painted golden patterns across the stone floor. Chai Latte Cookie waved as soon as she saw you, her bright smile faltering just a little when she got a better look at your face. “You look like you lost a debate,” she said as you sat down. Hazelnut Biscotti raised a brow. “Or like you just had a really bad lecture.” Earl Grey, ever perceptive, simply studied you in silence, waiting for you to explain. You sighed, poking at the food on your plate. “I ran into some upper scholars.” That got their attention. Chai Latte leaned in slightly, her expression curious but cautious. “Oh?”

“They were… nice.” You frowned, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. “Or at least, they pretended to be. But they said some things that just” You shook your head, pushing your food around with your fork. “I don’t know. They made it seem like I’m just bothering the Sage of Truth. Like I shouldn’t be following him around like a lost puppy.” Hazelnut Biscotti made a disgusted sound. “They actually said that?” “Not directly,” you admitted. “But that was the implication. That I shouldn’t waste his time.”Chai Latte frowned, crossing her arms. “That’s ridiculous. He offered to teach you, didn’t he? It’s not like you forced your way into his lessons.” “Yeah,” Hazelnut Biscotti agreed. “And honestly? They’re probably just jealous.” Earl Grey, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke. “That doesn’t mean their words won’t get to you.” You looked at him, and he met your gaze with something knowing. “You can tell yourself they’re just being manipulative. That they have their own reasons for trying to shake you,” he continued. “But that doesn’t make it any less effective, does it?” Your stomach twisted. You hated how easily he saw through you. “…No,” you admitted. Earl Grey sighed, setting down his cup of tea. “I warned you that they’d talk. That they’d start to wonder why he’s spending time on you.” “I know.” You swallowed. “But I thought I could ignore it.” Chai Latte’s expression softened. “Hey. You can ignore it. You don’t have to listen to them.”

“But what if they’re right?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “What if I am just wasting his time? What if” You clenched your jaw. “What if this is all just… charity?” Hazelnut Biscotti shook his head. “That’s nonsense.” Earl Grey, however, remained steady. “Then ask yourself this has he ever made you feel like you were wasting his time?” You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Because the answer was no. Shadow Milk Cookie had never once acted as though you were a burden. If anything, he was the one who had extended the invitation, who had encouraged you to keep going, who had even suggested that, someday, you could research alongside him. That wasn’t pity. That wasn’t obligation. That was something else entirely. “…No,” you said quietly. “He hasn’t.” Earl Grey nodded. “Then don’t let a few jealous scholars shake you.” Easier said than done. But still… You felt a little lighter. You nodded at Earl Grey’s words, but the uneasy weight in your chest didn’t disappear. Because deep down, hadn’t you always feared this? Hadn’t you always wondered why someone as brilliant as Shadow Milk Cookie would waste his time on you? Maybe you had been able to push those thoughts aside for a while lost in the excitement of learning, of finally having someone patient enough to guide you…but hearing it confirmed by others, seeing how it looked from the outside… It made your stomach churn. You stared down at your half-eaten meal, your appetite gone. The laughter and conversation buzzing around the dining hall felt distant, muffled, as if you were listening through a thick wall.

Chai Latte Cookie must have noticed because she reached out and placed a gentle hand over yours. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” You swallowed hard. “I just… I don’t know. It’s not like what they said was wrong” “Yes, it was,” Hazelnut Biscotti interrupted, his voice firm. You flinched slightly, and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I get it. If someone says something you’ve secretly feared all along, it feels true. But that doesn’t mean it is.” Chai Latte Cookie nodded. “Think about it. If the Sage didn’t think you were worth teaching, do you really think he’d waste his time? He’s Shadow Milk Cookie. He could spend his days debating with scholars who actually do care about status and recognition. He doesn’t need to humor you.” Earl Grey added, “And he certainly wouldn’t have invited you to his research space if he didn’t think you were capable of understanding it.” The thought made you pause. He had invited you. He had shown you his work, let you ramble excitedly about the parts you recognized, watched you with something that had almost felt… sincere. Would he have done that if he thought you weren’t worth his time? “I guess,” you mumbled. But doubt still gnawed at you. “But what if I am just a distraction? What if he just feels obligated because he offered?” Chai Latte Cookie groaned, exasperated but fond. “Okay, fine. If you won’t believe us, then ask him.” You blinked. “What?” She gestured vaguely. “If you’re so convinced that you’re a burden, then ask him why he’s teaching you. Why he keeps spending time on you. If he says it’s out of pity, then fine, we’ll drop it. But I bet he won’t.” The idea made you feel sick. Ask Shadow Milk Cookie directly? Ask him if he truly thought you were worth teaching? Could you even handle the answer? “…I don’t know if I can,” you admitted.

Earl Grey tilted his head slightly. “Then at least pay attention next time you’re with him. Really pay attention to how he speaks to you, how he teaches you. Does he treat you like a burden?” You bit your lip, hesitating. You wanted to believe them. You wanted to believe that Shadow Milk Cookie saw something in you that it wasn’t just obligation, that you weren’t just some helpless scholar he felt responsible for. But that fear, that doubt, had been with you from the beginning. And now, it was clawing its way back to the surface. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie sighed, leaning back in his seat. “Alright, listen. If you do run into them again, don’t let them get into your head. They don’t outright insult you because they can’t not without consequences. Instead, they make you doubt yourself, make you do the work of tearing yourself down.” He tapped his temple. “Don’t give them that power.” You nodded slowly, but truthfully, the words felt hazy, slipping through your fingers even as you tried to hold onto them. Maybe if you saw those scholars again, then the advice would come back to you.

For now, though, that gnawing feeling in your chest refused to leave. Earl Grey Cookie, who had been watching you closely, sighed. With his usual grace, he picked up a napkin and unfolded it with practiced ease before gently dabbing at the corner of your sleeve, as if straightening it. It was a small, refined gesture, but something about it felt… grounding. “You are more than what they make you out to be,” he said simply. “And if they can’t see that, then it is their shortcoming not yours.” You swallowed thickly, his quiet confidence in you settling in a place deep within your heart. Before you could dwell on it too much, Chai Latte Cookie huffed and scooted closer, sliding onto the bench beside you. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around you in a warm hug, resting her chin on your shoulder. “You so need this right now,” she mumbled. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie laughed at the sight, then grinned and pulled both of you into an even bigger hug. “Oh, we’re doing this? Great.” You let out a muffled noise of protest, but your heart swelled at the warmth surrounding you. And then, just when you thought the moment couldn’t get any more ridiculous, Earl Grey Cookie. Earl Grey Cookie, who rarely indulged in such casual affections sighed, exasperated but fond, and leaned in just enough to place a hand on your shoulder. His version of joining in. The three of them surrounded you, a barrier against your doubts, your fears, against the whispers that threatened to drag you down. And since that awful encounter, you felt something close to safe. Slowly but surely, the weight in your chest began to ease. The warmth of your friends, their unwavering presence it was enough to remind you that you weren’t alone.

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie was the first to break the silence. “Alright, enough of that. Time for something much more important.” You tilted your head. “Like what?” He smirked. “Gossip.” Chai Latte Cookie gasped, immediately perking up. “Oh! Finally!” She let go of you just enough to turn toward him. “What do you have? Who’s in a secret relationship? Who got caught sneaking out after hours?” Earl Grey Cookie let out a quiet sigh but didn’t protest. Even he knew there was no stopping them now. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned in conspiratorially. “You will not believe what I overheard in the library this morning.” Chai Latte Cookie clasped her hands together. “Tell me.” You couldn’t help but smile as he launched into some absurd tale about two upper scholars caught bickering over who had the true interpretation of some old text apparently, it had gotten so heated that one of them had threatened to “challenge the other to an academic duel.” Chai Latte Cookie gasped dramatically. “Not an academic duel!” You raised an eyebrow. “That’s just… a debate, isn’t it?” “Not when they bring out the enchanted quills,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie said, shaking his head. “You’d think they were getting ready for a real battle.” Earl Grey Cookie, who had been stirring his tea with the utmost patience, finally spoke. “It is always the ones with the least to prove who act with the most decorum.” He took a sip, then added, “The rest simply enjoy the theatrics.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling out of you before you could stop it. The tension in your shoulders had all but disappeared now. Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “There you are. I was worried we lost you for a second.” You sighed, shaking your head but smiling nonetheless. “You guys are ridiculous.” “And you love us for it,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie said smugly. You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest stayed. For the rest of lunch, they made it their mission to keep your spirits up, bouncing between gossip, jokes, and dramatic retellings of completely mundane events. And by the time you had to part ways, you felt lighter than before. The once-lively warmth of lunch faded as you sat alone in the dining hall, flipping through your notes in an attempt to focus. The din of other students around you blurred into a meaningless hum as your eyes scanned the ink on parchment, but your mind wandered elsewhere. No matter how many times you reread a sentence, the same thoughts crept back in.

"Shouldn’t follow the Sage like a puppy dog."

"Coming and going from his office like you belong there."

"You shouldn't bother him with trivial matters."

The words weren’t new, not really. They had existed in the back of your mind before, faint whispers you had long since ignored. But now? Now they echoed loud and clear, no longer just insecurities but opinions spoken aloud, given weight by others who seemed to confirm what you feared deep down. You tried to shake it off, but the longer you sat there, the heavier it became. Eventually, the clock signaled the end of your skipped lecture. You gathered your belongings, tucking your notes under your arm, but the usual anticipation that accompanied your walk to his office was absent. Instead, a quiet discomfort settled in its place. For the first time since Shadow Milk Cookie had taken you under his guidance, you found yourself wondering; Was this really okay? Was it fine for you to keep following him like this?

You swallowed hard and stepped out of the dining hall, forcing your feet to carry you forward. Each step felt heavier than the last. The path to his office was familiar by now, but today, it stretched before you like an uphill climb. You weren’t sure if you were looking forward to this meeting anymore. The knock against the door was softer than usual. Almost hesitant. Shadow Milk Cookie glanced up from his desk, setting aside the parchment he had been reading. “Enter.” You stepped inside, carrying your notes as you always did, your expression composed or at least, you tried to make it seem that way. He did not speak immediately, only observing as you settled into your usual seat. From the outside, nothing seemed amiss. You sat with the same posture, your hands resting over your notes, your eyes focused forward. But the silence between you felt… different. It was in the way you hesitated before placing your things down. In how your fingers fidgeted ever so slightly before stilling, as if you had caught yourself. In the way your responses normally natural, sometimes even eager felt just a touch more rehearsed. “Shall we begin?” he asked smoothly, as if nothing was out of place. You nodded. “Of course.” And so, he began the lesson. At first, you did your best to keep up, nodding along, forcing yourself to listen. But your mind was foggy. The words from earlier clung to your thoughts, unshakable. Shadow Milk Cookie was nothing if not observant. From the moment you entered his office, he knew something was amiss. You greeted him as usual, polite and eager on the surface, but your voice lacked the natural ease it carried earlier that morning. You moved with careful precision, placing your notes on the desk without the absentminded fidgeting you usually did when settling in. And when he spoke, explaining a concept with his usual thoroughness, you nodded at the right moments but there was a hollowness to it, like you were following a script rather than truly engaging. He did not mention it at first. Instead, he allowed the lesson to unfold, watching you closely. You were trying. He would give you that. Your posture remained attentive, your hand gripped your quill as if poised to take notes. But the ink never met the parchment. And your mind, he could tell was elsewhere. Minutes passed, his voice filling the space between you, but your responses were lackluster at best. He posed a question, expecting the usual spark of thought from you. Silence.

Your fingers twitched. You blinked down at your notes, as if trying to recall the words he had just spoken. “…Could you repeat that?” you asked, attempting to sound casual. Shadow Milk Cookie did not repeat himself. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, golden eyes scrutinizing you in that unreadable way of his. “You are distracted,” he observed, tone impossibly neutral. You inhaled sharply. “I-I’m not.” He said nothing, simply watching you. Your grip on the quill tightened. “I mean, I am listening,” you insisted, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I just… I just lost track of that one thing you said, that’s all. It won’t happen again.” A pause. Then “What is clouding your mind?” The directness of his question nearly made you flinch. “Nothing,” you lied instantly. Shadow Milk Cookie did not look convinced. You forced a smile, flipping a page in your notes as if to move on. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night. That’s all.” His gaze remained steady. He did not believe you. “…You were not like this earlier,” he finally said. Your throat tightened. “I’m fine.” He leaned back slightly, considering you. “You would not attempt to deceive me if you were.” You exhaled through your nose, gripping the edges of your notes as if they might ground you. You could not talk about it. The words from earlier still clung to you, wrapping around your thoughts like vines. That you didn’t belong here. That you were only wasting his time. That you looked like a lost cause following him around. Hadn’t you thought that before? Hadn’t you always feared that deep down?

You had pushed those feelings aside for so long. But hearing them aloud, spoken by scholars who did belong here, ones who didn’t struggle like you had twisted the doubt into something worse. And now? Now it sat like a weight in your chest, pulling you down, making it hard to focus. But you couldn’t tell him that. So you did what you always did. You tried to push through. “I just need to focus,” you muttered, shaking your head as if to rid yourself of the lingering thoughts. “Can we…can we just keep going?” Shadow Milk Cookie studied you for a long moment. Then, at last, he nodded. “Very well,” he said, though his tone had shifted softer now, almost careful. And so, the lesson continued. But he was still watching you. He had memorized your mannerisms long ago, and no matter how well you tried to hide it, he knew.

The soft scratching of your quill against parchment filled the quiet of Shadow Milk Cookie’s office. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the tomes and scrolls stacked meticulously on the desk between you. You were trying. You really were. You had been working through the problems he assigned, listening to his explanations, and responding when prompted. But your words lacked their usual conviction, your responses coming slower, your handwriting more uneven. And Shadow Milk Cookie noticed. He always noticed. “Your approach here is not incorrect,” he said evenly, tapping his finger against a section of your notes. “But your application of the theorem is inconsistent. Tell me why.” You blinked, staring at the equation as if the answer would materialize on the parchment. You knew this. You had done this before. But your thoughts felt tangled, clouded by lingering doubts. You hesitated, gripping your quill a little too tightly. “I… must’ve made a mistake somewhere.” His eyes didn’t leave you. “Then correct it.” You swallowed, nodding stiffly as you tried to retrace your steps. Your fingers twitched against the quill, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, your mind faltering over the simplest steps. Shadow Milk Cookie observed you carefully, his sharp gaze taking in every small hesitation, every misplaced breath. Then, he spoke soft, yet unwavering. “You are elsewhere.” Your breath hitched. You shook your head quickly. “I’m fine. I just need a moment to-” “I expect honesty from you.” The words settled over you like a weight. You pressed your lips together, suddenly feeling unbearably small beneath his gaze. “I am being honest,” you tried. His expression did not change. You exhaled shakily, your shoulders curling inward. Your fingers twitched against the parchment, ink staining the tips where you had pressed too hard. He waited. Patient. Unyielding. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until you finally broke. “…Some scholars stopped me earlier,” you muttered, not quite meeting his gaze. Shadow Milk Cookie remained still, listening. You hesitated, gripping the edges of your parchment. “They… they said I shouldn’t be bothering you. That I’m just following you around like some lost cause. That I don’t belong here.” Your voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “And maybe they’re right.” A stillness settled between you. Shadow Milk Cookie did not immediately respond. Instead, he studied you his golden eyes sharp, contemplative. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, resting his hands atop the desk. “And you believe them?” His voice was quiet, but there was something beneath it something firm, something undeniable. You swallowed. “I don’t know.” His gaze did not waver. “Then tell me. What is it you seek?” You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. “I…” You fidgeted with your sleeve. “I just… want to understand. I want to learn.” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a long moment. Then, he asked, “And do you know what they seek?” Your breath stilled. “…No.” A flicker of something unreadable crossed his expression. “So enlighten me,” he mused, “why do you measure yourself against them?” Your lips parted then pressed together.

You had no answer. Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze softened, just slightly. “It is a most curious thing,” he murmured. “To allow those whose motives remain unknown to dictate your worth.” Your fingers twitched. “…I just don’t want to be a burden,” you admitted. He exhaled quietly, closing his eyes for a brief moment before regarding you again. “Do you know what I seek?” You blinked. “…Truth?” you offered weakly. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Indeed.” His voice dropped slightly, steady and assured. “And I do not grant my time frivolously. If I believed you incapable of learning, you would not be here.” Your breath caught. The weight of his words settled deep in your chest, unraveling something tight within you. “…Thank you,” you murmured. Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a moment longer, then slowly, almost hesitantly he did something unexpected. He reached for the parchment before you and, with a graceful flick of his wrist, tore away the section where your ink had bled through. You startled slightly. “Wait, what are you” “You will redo it,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “With clarity of mind.” You gaped at him. “But-but that was…” “Incorrect,” he interrupted smoothly, setting a fresh parchment before you. “And you are capable of better.” Your throat tightened. It wasn’t scolding. It wasn’t dismissal. It was belief. You swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “…Alright.” Shadow Milk Cookie hummed approvingly. Then, after a moment’s pause, he added, “If it will ease your mind, I will inquire into these scholars myself.” Your eyes widened. “You...wait, no, you don’t have to” “I will.” His voice left no room for argument. “I would not see a bright mind discouraged over whispers in the dark.” Your heart pounded. This was… more than he usually offered. More personal than he usually allowed himself to be. You weren’t even sure what to say. “…I don’t really remember who they were,” you admitted, shifting slightly. “I didn’t recognize them.” Shadow Milk Cookie studied you for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “Then I shall find out myself.” You inhaled deeply, still reeling from all of it. “…Thank you,” you said, voice quieter than before. He regarded you once more, then gestured toward your fresh parchment. “Now,” he mused, a familiar knowing glint returning to his gaze, “let us see if you can solve this correctly.”

A/N not to crush anyone's hopes but these scholars are just petty they won't try anything tbh only nasty words...well not even just spreading doubt it's not a super important storyline but I need it for the realism it's suspicious if nobody questions the mc and why they're going to his office so often... okay that was all 9 chapters left until the kiss scene

anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥

<<<Previous Next>>>

[accio-sriracha]

"What's it like?" Regulus asked quietly, staring at the stars from their hiding spot in the garden.

"What's what like?" Sirius replied.

Regulus turned to look at him, the grass tickling his nose, "Being in love."

Sirius' eyes never moved from the stars, "Why do you ask?"

Regulus shrugged, "Just curious, I guess."

There was a long pause, Regulus assumed Sirius was trying to find the right words.

"It's sort of like falling." He explained, "It's slow at first. You don't even realise it. One day you notice the colour of their eyes is deeper than you thought. Less plain brown and more... chocolate coloured. The next time it's hearing their laugh and feeling yourself smile without meaning to, like your body wants to react, like the sound is... healing, I guess."

He paused again, finally moving to face Regulus.

Regulus nodded for him to go on.

"Eventually, all of the things you used to do as friends feel... bigger. Every touch doesn't feel so casual anymore. Everytime they say your nickname it's less of a joke and more like a secret, something sacred between the two of you."

He sighed, "Then, one day, you look up and realise how far you've fallen. And it's like there's no turning back. Everything reminds you of them. Everytime you make a joke you look to them first, to see if they're laughing. Everytime they walk in a room it's like nothing else matters." He laughed softly, the sound was nostalgic, "You find yourself looking for reasons to talk to them. Anything to be close to them, to feel their touch. Nothing is casual anymore, there's always... meaning, always something more left unsaid. It's understanding someone so deeply, and having them know you too."

Regulus smiled, "That sounds nice." He whispered.

Sirius nodded, "Yeah, it is."

"I want to have that some day." Regulus sat up, playing with a blade of grass between his fingertips.

Sirius sat up too, his own smile reassuring, "You will." He nodded, "Anyone would be lucky to have you."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Regulus pulled away from the pensive, his eyes filled with tears.

"May I be excused, professor?" Regulus asked.

The professor nodded, continuing his lesson on finding a positive memory for conjuring a patronus.

Regulus walked out into the hallway. His hands shook as he scrubbed the tears from his face.

And, of course, a voice from behind him caught his attention,

"Reggie! Hey, I thought you had defense class this hour?"

Regulus turned, meeting the deep chocolate brown of Potter's eyes. His stomach flipped as it always did when they were together.

"I do." He sniffed.

Potter caught the look on his face and his smile dropped. At once he was standing in front of Regulus, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay, I'm here." He soothed, his hands rubbing Regulus' shoulders.

Regulus couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, because the touch sent sparks across Regulus' skin.

Potter frowned, leaning back to look at him again,

"Are you alright?" He asked.

Regulus shook his head, his smile appearing of its own accord,

"I think im in love with you." He whispered.

Potter's eyes widened, he leaned back a little further, "Do you have a concussion? You sound loopy. We should get you to the nurse."

Regulus stopped him mid-stride as Potter began to lead him down the corridor. He shook his head, tears filling his eyes again,

"I'm serious, Jamie. I'm in love with you."

Neither of them made the Sirius joke, Regulus had never once seen Potter speechless like this.

Eventually, he seemed to find his voice again,

"You're in love with me?" He repeated slowly.

Regulus nodded, "I am."

James took a while to process this. Regulus realised he probably should have waited to give the news when Potter wasn't on his way to the lavatory.

He was just about to apologise when Potter took both of his hands in his own,

"I've loved you for as long as I can remember."

The words hit Regulus harder than he could have ever imagined.

Before either of them could get out another word, Potter was pulling him into a sweeping kiss.

Regulus knew without a doubt this was the feeling Sirius had been describing all those years ago.

But he was wrong about one thing.

Regulus was the lucky one.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 28]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

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Words: 4.3k 🌶️

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Sometimes, Matt forgets what it feels like to be happy.

His life has been tragedy after tragedy, many of his own making, and more than once it had been overwhelming. He remembers all too well the feeling of gravel in his knees as he begged for Death to come to him. He will never stop having nightmares about choking on ash and dust as his world collapses around him. His hands will always have blood on them.

But when you smile at him - really, truly smile - all of those memories fade into the background. They get banished to who knows where and he’s enveloped in this lightness he can’t explain. Nothing else in the world matters to him but you. 

You, and how your hand goes up to try to hide your mouth, like you are too scared to let anyone see you have emotions.

You, and how breathy your voice gets when you are trying to not laugh. 

You, and how your heart has calmed from jack rabbiting everywhere from just being near him to the steady rhythm he daydreams about. 

You bring him this sense of peace he does not understand and all he wants in life is to do the same for you. 

Love does not begin to describe what he feels for you. 

He loved (loves) Elektra.

He loved (loves) Karen. 

He belongs to you - body, spirit, and mind.

He would deny God and worship only at your altar for the remainder of Eternity if you even gave the hint, you wanted as much. 

He would lay down his gloves and armor if that is what you wished for.

He would turn and walk away from Hell’s Kitchen if you led him elsewhere. 

In such a short time, your Light has wrapped itself around him and he oh so willingly let himself be consumed. You make him want to be Better.

He wants to be a Better person, a Better fighter, a Better protector, a Better lawyer, a Better friend, a Better lover, a Better father. He wants to be Better because only then - maybe - could he possibly deserve an ounce of what you give him. 

You have built so many walls around your heart that it scares him. He has a feeling you will never let him know why those walls are there or who so thoroughly broke you that you need them, but it does not matter to him. He understands, more than anyone, that they exist for a reason, and he is going to systematically tear through every single one. 

He doesn’t care how slowly and methodically he has to chip away at them. He is going to savor every victory, because it is one millimeter closer to you. 

Taking you out to dinner was something he was prepared to wait months for, but a unique opportunity presented itself and he decided it was worth the risk of you saying ‘no’.

But now you are sitting across from him, tucked into a corner of one of the most glamorous restaurants in the city, giggling into your palm while he tells you about one of his college adventures. 

“What happened next?” you ask in an excited whisper.

His lips turn up into a mischievous grin as he concludes his story, “We were locked out on the roof all night. We managed to flag someone down in the morning, but the damage was done. I took the fall - the poor blind man got turned around and went up the wrong staircase and his nice friend went looking for him, so they didn’t press any charges, but the professor tore us a new one. Foggy refused to drink red wine for at least ten years after.”

Your body sings with laughter and Matt feels himself puff up in Pride. Your disposition is night and day from earlier in the evening - you had been stiff, and he could literally taste the anxiety rolling off you in waves. You had been hunched in and quiet. It had been a task for him to delicately untangle your nerves, but he had accomplished his goal, and his reward was your hand on top of the table, just a breath away from his own. 

He is playing it slow, though.

As much as he wants to touch you - any part of you - he knows better than to push for anything. He’s asked so much of you tonight and he is not going to ruin it all by making you uncomfortable with a bold display of public affection such as hand holding. 

“You are lucky it wasn’t snowing,” you comment as you go for the last sip of your wine. “You could have frozen to death.”

He gives a nonchalant half shrug, “we are not above huddling together for warmth, and it isn’t like Foggy and I haven’t shared a bed before.” He pauses, then just to soothe any worry you might have, adds, “Plus, I would have gotten us back in long before then. The building was only four stories, so it would have been easy to scale down, break in, and go unlock the door without tipping Fog off. He was that drunk.”

You exhale through your nose in a way he knows you are making a cute little pouting face. “He didn’t know?”

There’s a hint of confusion and caution in the question and Matt decides he’ll never get over how carefully you tread around certain topics. The hesitancy leaves him the option to explain or dismiss and it is something he cherishes about you. 

The subject of his secrecy with his abilities with regards to his best friend isn’t something he likes to think about. It hurt both of them and the ripples of the aftermath can still be felt, but Matt won’t let that ache out, so he replies with the simple truth, “No one did.”

A soft hum escapes your throat, and he expects a follow up akin to ‘that must have been lonely’ or some other sentiment. So, of course, you go in a different direction. 

“I don’t think I could climb down the side of a building.”

He chuckles at your musing and the way your Light once again chases off his ever-present dark thoughts. “No?”

You hum again in affirmative, and your lips give the slightest pop as they go up into a smile, “I was never a big jungle gym person. I don't remember the last time I climbed anything. There was a rock wall at the ESU gym I wanted to try, but they were so understaffed I didn’t want to bother them.”

Before he can comment about his experience with rock walls, the heavy thud of worn leather loafers enters into the mental perimeter he has made around the table, signaling the approach of someone.

Your hand slides off the table and away from his. 

“I see the tarta de queso was the correct choice,” the front of house manager says, amusement clear in his thick New Jersey accent. Matt can tell he's been in the restaurant business for a long time - his movements are smooth as he clears the dishes from the table and the smell of garlic has seeped into his skin. Surprisingly, he doesn't reek of cigarettes or weed - a strong odor most fine dining workers carry. It is something he appreciates. 

Matt had enjoyed his meal. The food was not only delicious - it was clean. The chef runs a tight kitchen. He had heard it when he had checked in to see when food would be coming out. There is no cross contamination on the knives and plates are thoroughly rinsed. He couldn't even taste the soap on the forks. 

“It was perfect. And so pretty,” you say, your voice taking on a polite and pleasant tone. He's noticed that you adopt it whenever you are talking to a service worker. It's sweet. 

“It was amazing,” he agrees quickly.

The man gives a hardy laugh, “Good, good. Now, would you like one more glass of wine? Maybe an after-dinner drink or coffee? Something to go? We have some albondigas that reheat in the microwave beautifully.”

Matt defers to you and your hair bounces as you shake your head, “I think I am at my limit. Everything was absolutely wonderful. Thank you so much.”

Another waiter slips into the perimeter and silently relieves the front of house manager of plates and wine glasses, leaving the man with the ability to clap his hands together. “The pleasure was all mine. Mister Murdock and his guests are welcome back anytime, our treat. Just give us a call and let us know, we will have a table for you.”

It is his turn to thank the man, and he does so, adding, “That is too kind of you.”

“Nonsense! It is the least we could do for you,” the man declares, and Matt’s neck heats up just a little. The daughter of the owner had gotten into some hot water, and he had been able to keep her out of jail. “Now! I will leave you two lovebirds be, but you let me know if you change your mind about that coffee.”

He quite literally bows out and Matt directs his full focus back to you. 

All of the signals he is getting indicate you are as pleased as he is with how your night is going. He can guess you have a shy little smile with how your head is ever so slightly ducked and he wonders if you’re looking at him through your lashes. He can practically feel your gaze dancing over his features. A certain tang is starting to hit his palette that gets his blood pumping and he all but starts to salivate. 

He can’t hold back the slight growl in his voice when he asks, “Want to get out of here?”

Your body gives him the reaction he wants, and he is quick to stand and offer you his arm. You get up rather gracefully - Matt thinks you are hyper aware of your movements, and you want to look composed in such an elegant restaurant - and take hold of his bicep. It is the opposite of how you usually walk, but you have no trouble leading him through the winding tables and out onto the sidewalk. The change in temperature gives you a shiver and instinctively, you press closer. 

He wants to pull you flush, to get his hands on the silk he’s draped your curves in, but he reminds himself to behave. 

You turn to face him, hand still on his sleeve. You roll your bottom lip between your teeth as you work up the nerve to say whatever you are going to. He is, of course, patient and lets you fret and fuss for a few seconds. 

“Do you,” you start, barely above a whisper and as sweet and thick as honey, “want to get a cab back to your place?”

He had had more plans to woo you, but they are tossed away as soon as the words leave your lips. He wants nothing more than your suggestion and tells you as much before moving to flag down the nearest car. Given the popularity of the venue, it takes all but a second. He slides in behind you and gives the cabbie his address. 

His apartment is only a few blocks away, but that's far too many for you to walk in your gown. 

And Matt wants to get there as fast as possible.

The ride is silent as can be, but far from uneventful. Like it is a continuation from dinner, both his hand and yours end up on the seat between you. He tries to remain calm and collected, but his heart pounds in his chest like he is a teenager as he stretches his pinky out to brush against yours. Your breath catches in your throat and arousal courses through you so quickly it makes his head spin and his dick jump to attention. 

So hesitantly, like the cabbie is going to turn around and start chastising you for being so scandalous, you link your finger with his. He doesn’t even try to fight the smile that takes over his face. His boyish excitement must be contagious - you’re biting at your lips again and your face radiates heat. 

He is quick to take the lead for the next step, not even thinking as he turns your hand and laces your fingers with his. They fit together perfectly - and like the lovesick puppy he is, he can’t resist the cliche hand squeeze. 

Apparently, you are just as cheesy as he is, because your hand clenches around his just a millisecond faster. 

It is hours or minutes or days of your Light wrapping around Matt’s mind before the cab rolls up in front of his apartment and he is paying for the ride. He refuses to let go of you as you both leave the car, and he doesn’t wait for it to pull away before he’s leading you to the building’s door.

The dynamic shifts once you cross the threshold. 

It is only a few steps in until you are in front of the elevator and Matt expertly pivots so he is behind you once the call button is pressed. He no longer has to hold back - there is no one around and cameras do not exist in this building. His hands go to your waist, and he tangles his fingers into the silk of your dress. It’s still cool to the touch and slides over his skin like water. His hands smooth up your body just a fraction - hitching your dress up so it no longer touches the ground. 

He pulls you back, so you are flush to his chest and it is a step back you eagerly take. As he ducks his head to latch his lips to your pulse point, you let yours fall to the side, giving him so much more access. He doesn’t waste this gift - this offering - and he leaves his first mark of the night. 

Your body weeps for him. If the salt from your skin wasn’t coating his tongue, the tart flavor of your arousal would be. He can hear the way your cunt flexes and clenches around nothing, and he silently promises he won’t leave you empty for much longer. You are not the only one eager and he needs to get his fix before he spends the rest of the night taking you apart. 

Luckily, Foggy has agreed to babysit until one in the morning, so Matt has plenty of time to savor you. 

Under his tongue, you struggle to not moan. Your control is too tight to allow that in public, but once you are in his bed, he is going to make you hoarse. The catches in your throat are the best kind of tease. 

You breathe his name just as the elevator slides open. He urges you forward and follows without letting up his kissing. He goes up your neck until he can nip at your earlobe, and you melt even more under his touch.

“Sixth floor,” he whispers, not wanting to let go of you to reach for the buttons. It takes you a moment to act and you are a bit clumsy with pressing the right floor, but it doesn’t matter. The doors close and Matt has you in his arms. 

His hands wander over your hips and belly - he can't get enough of you and the way your skin sounds against the fabric is like music to his ears. All he wants to do is touch you.

You press your hips back, so your ass rubs against him enticingly. He’s long since hard and the intentional friction makes his brain short circuit for a split second - it takes everything to not grind into you or pin you to the elevator wall. 

Your hands find his and you oh so gently drag your nails over his knuckles while also applying pressure to his wrist with the heel of your hand. He takes it as a sign you want more, and he spreads his fingers as wide as he can to drag over your hips. 

“I need my cock in you,” he breaths into your ear. You shudder and barely hold back a whine. “I need to feel you cum for me, just from that. Then I’m going to lay you out and get my fill of that perfect pussy of yours until you can’t say anything but my name. Then,” he promises, letting his voice get ragged and lower in octave, “I’m going to flip you over and mount you like I’ve been thinking about for weeks.”

“Matt..” you choke on his name, and he takes a moment to admire that you are managing to stay composed. It’s holding on by a string, but you are not giving him the satisfaction of turning you into a mess.

Yet.

The elevator finally reaches the correct floor and creaks open. You move practically as one as you both hurry out of the elevator. He hates he has to let go of you to get the keys from his pocket, but he has enough practice he doesn’t fumble with them to get the door open. 

He doesn’t know who does what first once inside - all he knows is his mouth is on yours before the lock clicks shut and your hands are in his hair. You’re up against the door and it is him producing the needy noises as he ruts against you. 

All of your shyness and hesitancy is gone in the privacy of his apartment. You are as hungry for him as he is for you, and it is him who has to break the kiss to be able to breathe. You start to push at his suit jacket, but he won’t allow it - instead he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. 

“Not yet,” he hums. The last of the blood in his head doesn’t let him forget that he has one last thing to do before he can take you to bed. 

You pout but don’t complain, and he rewards that by lacing his fingers with yours once again. He guides you from the entrance hallway and towards his bedroom, walking backwards the entire way so he remains facing you. The click of your heels echo and with each step, his cock twitches with desire. 

His bedroom has a new addition that he leads you to - a mirror. He’s propped it on his dresser just for this occasion. He understands your confusion as he positions himself behind you, but you play along with his game, not questioning his intentions. 

He lets go of your hands to smooth them up your arms, to your shoulders, then the back of your dress. The zipper glides down smoothly and with a little urging from him, the gown drops from your figure to pile on the ground, leaving you in just your heels and panties. 

Lace panties he had purchased and snuck into the garment bag that dress had come in. He would have bought you shoes as well, but he didn’t know your size. 

“This doesn’t seem fair,” you comment, but Matt can hear how you don’t actually care about that. Your blood is thrumming, and your slick has started to creep out of its confines and down your leg.

“Patience, my darling.” 

You have on earrings - dangly things that tinkle with every movement of your head. He has little practice removing such things and he is lucky they are hooks he can slide out instead of complicated studs he’s heard Karen complain about. Again, you don’t question him, only tilting your head to help him when you realize what he is doing. He sets them and his glasses on the dresser before he gently taps his shoe against your heels. That is all the instruction you need, and you step out of them. 

The last thing is your panties. As much as he wants to rip them off with his teeth, that is not the plan for the night. He ghosts his hands down your sides before he hooks his thumbs at their hem and lets them fall to be with the dress.

His blood pounds in his ears as he reaches into his coat pocket. The box nestled inside is small, fitting in the palm of his hand, and he keeps it out of your view as he pulls it out. His fingers may or may not shake as he opens the box and removes the delicate chain hidden inside. 

The inhale you take and the way you still as he drapes the necklace around your throat tells him everything he needs to know. Lightning is dancing up and down you as goosebumps cover your skin and he doesn’t need to taste the salt in the air to know there are tears starting to gather in your eyes. 

He clasps the necklace close, then lets his hands fall so they can wrap around your waist. He hooks his chin over your shoulder and simply states, “You are beautiful.”

The necklace is a single, tear shaped pendant about the size of his fingernail, hanging from a thin chain. According to the jeweler, the gemstone is a deep red ruby. It is simple and elegant. 

You hold your breath as you reach up to touch it. Your eyes are fixed on the mirror, and he can tell your lips are parted in shock as you examine yourself. He takes advantage of your distraction to kiss your shoulder. 

“Will you wear this for me?” he asks with his voice. 

‘Will you let me love you’ is what his heart means.

He tries to not panic when you don’t respond. He knows that your cheeks are now wet, and he Prays he did not get his signals wrong. This may have been a step too much - you might not yet be ready for this. 

His doubt is vanquished as you swirl around and kiss him with everything you have. 

He gets undressed in record time - you work his pants while he shrugs off his jacket and yanks his dress shirt over his head, not bothering to deal with the buttons. Soon enough you are both nude and stumbling into the bed. 

Matt lets you direct him onto his back, and he reaches for the drawer of his bedside table while you crawl on top of him. It is your turn to kiss his neck and shoulders, adding in bites and scrapes of your teeth as he all but rips a condom out of its packaging. He knows you aren’t on birth control yet - and as much as he wants to fill you to the brim with his seed, he also knows pregnancy isn’t something you want in your near future. 

He barely gets the protection on before your perfect heat is surrounding him. You throw your head back, shameless in your moaning as you sink down onto him. 

He nearly cums from just that.

You plant your hands on his chest, nails dragging wonderfully down his skin, and begin to ride him like you were meant for it. He had wanted to fuck you into the mattress, but if this is what you want, he has no room to complain. His hands find your waist and he digs his fingers in, wanting to leave bruises as he keeps you steady on his cock. 

“Take what you want, sweetheart, I’m yours. I’m yours,” he encourages. “Ride my cock.”

You squeeze around him, your body already so close to release. He needs you to chase it. “I’ve been thinking about it,” you pant as you grind your cunt on him, “been wanting this. Wanting you. Needing you.”

“Fuck, baby. Fuck, baby. Tell me what you want.”

He gets his feet planted so he can start meeting your rolls and his hands can no longer stay still. One goes down so he can rub at your already swollen and soaking clit and the other jumps to your breast. Your nipple is pebbled under his thumb, and he pinches at it, making you keen.

“Wanna…Matt..want this.” 

You are far too focused on bouncing on him to get out words and he doesn’t mind one bit - he’ll get you to tell him your desires at some point. He has all night to coax it out. 

You claw at him as your core begins to tighten and Matt puts himself to work. He becomes so easily lost in you - your skin on his, your taste in his mouth, your sweet noises drowning out everything else except the wet sounds of him sliding in and out of you. He wants his mouth on you, but you’ve got him pinned as you use him for support and leverage. You are starting to shake, and he takes up any slack in your riding by increasing his thrusts.

Your nails pierce his skin as your cunt begins to squeeze and pulse around him and, even with a condom, it sends him tumbling over the edge with you. 

He doesn’t white out, but he misses when you collapse onto him, because the next thing he knows, you’re nuzzling into his neck with a pleased hum. He returns the noise as he brushes his nose and lips over the crown of your head. 

“Don’t wanna move,” you mumble against him, and Matt finds himself agreeing. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close and greedily keeping all of your weight on him.

“We can stay here as long as you want, darling. I’m yours.”

With the smallest movement, you turn your face to hide against him and breathe out words he’s sure he’s not actually meant to hear.

“You’re mine.”

((“I love you.”))

---

im not dead anymore

--

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[jaehunnyy]

trust you with my heart | smg

Pairing: vampire!Mingi x witch!reader

Genre: enemies-to-lovers!au, fantasy!au, fluff, a bit of angst if you squint?

Wordcount: 4.1k

Rating: pg-13

Warnings: kissing, few swear words, both of them have a sucky past, grammar mistakes

a/n: this is my work for @cromernet's secret santa event, and it's forrrrr drumrolls @bvidzsoo!! my dear Ariadne, this was something new to me and i tried my best so i hope you won't be too disappointed of it, happy holidays! 💕

Networks: @cromernet, @illusionnet, @blankjournal

“Soon, there won’t be any Aurora University to celebrate or any students to attend if we don’t do this! We have to take the risk and send them there.” 

You gasped at your professor’s words, not even minding that you could be expelled if anyone caught you eavesdropping—even when you felt a cold hand around your neck and another pressed on your lips, preventing you from screaming in fear. 

“When did Y/N become that bold? Eavesdropping—at the dean’s office? This better be good!” 

You closed your eyes in frustration as you realized who caught you there—Song Mingi. You have fought for the student of the year title every year since you entered Aurora University. You wanted to say something in return, but you heard your professors talk again, suddenly feeling the weight of the situation as you thought about the place that was your home for the last few years—not only did it provide a safe space for your supernatural powers, but you couldn’t imagine what it would’ve become of you if it wasn’t for their support and understanding throughout learning how to control them.

“Let me go,” you said, words muffled by his hand still on your mouth: “Mingi!” you said one last time, stepping with your heel right on his foot and freeing yourself from his grip as he let out a painful sound. “Don’t you dare say a single word!” you threatened, looking at him through sharp eyes. 

He clenched his fists so hard, that you were sure the half-moons his nails dug into his skin would be visible a few minutes after. Mingi opened his mouth to give you a remark before a strong voice interrupted your antics: “I have to go search for them—or maybe not. Mingi, Y/N, we were just looking for you!” your elf professor exclaimed, pushing the two of you into the dean’s office. You were doomed. 

“We hope this nice time of the day finds you well, our dear students—actually, what were the two of you doing here?“ the elf raised his eyebrow, looking at you. 

“We don’t have time to lose! Tell them, or I will!” the dean, a fairly volcanic werewolf exclaimed. 

The elf scrunched his nose at the noise, giving Y/N and Mingi a smile before starting: 

“As you might already know, our University is in danger due to The Nameless Protector’s wishes to withhold some funds from our university. You two are our best shot at convincing them this university is worth saving and investing in, so we want to talk to you about scheduling a meeting with them and trying to change their mind. We will provide everything you need, just—please, try your best and be safe.” 

You looked at Mingi, just to be met with a dumbfounded look, despite your shocked one. "I don’t think he’s capable of understanding this", you mentally giggled, before becoming serious and weighing the gravity of the situation. Your lips trembled with the ache of your words, this was too big of a responsibility, you couldn’t, you won’t— 

“We’re delighted to take part in this adventure together, Mister Elfy. Thank you for choosing us.” Mingi smirked, throwing an arm around your shoulders and bringing you closer to him. 

You forced a lopsided smile, putting your arm around Mingi’s waist and pinching his skin with your nails, making him hiss, your poor professors smiling awkwardly in your direction, not quite sure whether the two of you would survive each other before facing other adventures.  

You were convinced this could only happen to you.

As time passed and the needed preparations were done, you found yourself sitting on the train, facing the cocky vampire that didn’t even bother to check on you. Book in his hands, his eyes were following the letters scattered on the pages, lips slowly moving as his reading came out in a whisper. You wished you could distract yourself like he did, but the thought of facing them terrified you to the core. The Nameless Protector was known to be a ruthless person. There weren’t a lot of people who met them, other than their Right Hand, and you weren’t even sure if it was more than a tale your grandma used to tell you as a good night story; what if they ate witches or something? 

“Are you okay? Not that I care, but you look paler than me, and this is quite concerning considering that last time I checked, I was the only vampire on this train.” Mingi’s raspy voice came to your ears, making you scoff. 

“I’m going to the restroom.” 

Or so you wished because as soon as you stood up, a sudden brake made you lose your balance, landing right into Mingi’s lap. You were again convinced that this could only happen to you. 

Still dazed by the sudden encounter, you slowly raised your face to meet the vampire’s, his sharp eyes piercing through your soul.  You were so close that you were sure if vampires needed to breathe, you would have felt his warm breath on your lips. You were convinced he could also feel the tension building between the two of you, and his lips suddenly looked so good that—

“Uhm, tickets, please.” The train conductor faked a cough and you realized the position you were in, sighing for the nth time that day. 

The trip took around two days, and you couldn't wait to finally bask in some fluffy blankets, in a comfortable bed—only for your dreams to be crushed, once again. You entered the spacious room, only to be met with a king-sized bed. And you would normally be so happy about it, if only Mingi didn’t follow right behind, having to share the room with you. A room with one bed. 

“I don't think vampires need sleep, so I will take the bed, thank you,” you said, hurrying to the bed, only to feel his ice touch on your wrist. 

“Not so fast, Broomie,” he said, trying a bit too hard not to laugh at his own nickname, “I don't know what expects us out there, so I need my rest too.”

“You can rest as well on the floor; oh, and it's all thanks to that nickname, by the way.” You said in an annoyed tone, escaping from his hold and getting into the bed.  

You swore you saw him pouting, and you couldn't help the little flutter of your heart. You felt bad for him, but he deserved it; in the end, you were just two academic rivals doomed to convince some sort of ruler no one ever saw to keep on funding your university—quite easy, right? 

The next morning, you started to stir awake, feeling quite cold, yet engulfed by an unfamiliar warmth. You slowly opened your eyes, only to be met with Mingi's sleeping figure next to you, one arm lazily thrown around your waist. You tried your best not to shriek, wondering how the hell did he even think of getting into the bed while you were asleep. Moving your hand towards him, you were ready to shake him until he woke up—only to realize you couldn't. He looked so peaceful, his long lashes resting gracefully on his cheeks and his hair was scattered all over his face. You have always wondered if the unspoken tension between you two had a deeper meaning, but, you pushed it aside with all the teasing and pressure between the two of you.

He opened his eyes soon after, the spark of a crimson shadow present in them. His mouth was itching to say something, but for some reason, he felt like it would ruin the moment. It was the first time you two co-existed in other proximities, with no one to judge and compare the two of you. You looked so vulnerable, with your messy hair all over the pillow, and he was sure he didn't look any better—yet, for once, he didn't care. 

“Why did you think it would be a good idea to sleep here? I thought we had a deal.” You broke the silence, recomposing yourself. 

“You seemed scared to sleep alone.” He simply smiled, getting up and ruffling his hair in an attempt to make it look better. You rolled your eyes at his joke, but apparently everything had a new beginning, so you let it slide.

After the two of you prepared for the day, you realized you should probably eat something before exploring the surroundings. 

"Are you coming for breakfast?” 

Mingi looked at you, a drink in his hand—one you didn't want to know details about; it kinda confirmed that he wasn't coming, though. 

“I could keep you company if you want.” 

You were surprised he was willing to come with you, maybe he had a fever? You just shrugged and prevented yourself from saying anything. The two of you got downstairs, admiring the beautiful scenery the hotel provided. The windows were big and clear, making it possible for the whole city to be seen out of them. You watched in awe, not noticing when the vampire disappeared. 

“Yunho!” you heard Mingi's voice and looked in the direction of the sound, seeing him hug an unknown guy. His blonde locks stood out next to the blue-haired man he was talking to, and once again—you found yourself starstruck by his beauty. His plump lips were moving with every word he said, stretching into soft smiles whenever the other guy was saying something, and you were sure that there was a side of him you didn't know. He seemed so soft and gentle—something you didn’t see before.

“Y/N, come meet Yunho!” he shouted, calling you over. “This is my old friend, we lived together for a while.” 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N! I'm working here so don't hesitate to call if you ever need something! You may sit at that table, I'll bring you your food immediately.” 

You nodded softly, giving him a small smile. 

“Oh, and I suggest you two take a walk after sunset, you won't regret it.” 

“Do you wanna take a walk?” you asked, hoping he would hear your voice, too concentrated on the words he was currently reading. 

He raised his head softly, adjusting the glasses that hung lazily on his nose. 

“Oh, isn't it The Wicked Witch of the West? Asking me for a walk?” he smirked, satisfied with your annoyed reaction. 

“You know what, you can keep on reading, I don't want you to come anymore.” 

He smiled, grabbing your hand softly. "You can't take it back now; let's go.” 

Mingi could say he was intrigued. Your presence, the way you talked—he wanted to see behind your straight A's, leaving all the pressure on your shoulders aside. Truth is—he didn't know how to get close to you, he never did. Initially, his remarks were supposed to be a way for you to let loose around each other; but it turned out to be the opposite, creating a wall of uncomfortable tension between you—and he thought that maybe, it was for the best. But you were alone now, and he hoped he could change that. 

“Do you eat kids?” 

You almost choked, stopping in your tracks and giving him a disgusted look. 

“I—what?” 

“My grandma used to read me a story about a witch living in a house made of candy and—” 

“You're delusional. No, I don't eat kids.” 

He sighed dramatically, as if he just freed himself from a horrible danger. He was sure he messed up again, but he also hoped you already got used to his antics by now and you found his question funny.

“What made you say yes to this adventure?” he asked again, your hands brushing at how close the two of you were. 

“For your information, it was never me who agreed to this, it was you, and—” 

He giggled. For the first time, you saw him giggle with all his heart, and it made you smile too. You needed to get things off your chest, so you decided opening up a bit wouldn’t hurt. 

“I wanted validation from my family. I wanted to prove myself to them, show them that I won't disappoint our coven, that I can be independent—but they weren't satisfied, I was never enough.” 

You saw a familiar glint in his eyes, a silent way to tell that he understands you, that he knows the struggle. Instinctively, his hand slowly found yours, your fingers interlocking almost as if they were made for each other. 

“My family never supported me. They never wanted me to study at Aurora, they never acknowledged me—I was always the weak one until I dared to run away. That’s how I met Yunho. I don't really have anything to prove,” he chuckled dryly, “But I still hope I will get closure from that.” 

“Damn, look at us trauma bonding, who knew?” you asked in hope to light the mood up for a bit, wrapping your hands around his waist slowly. 

You had no idea who needed this hug more, but when he wrapped his hands around you as well, you decided to enjoy the comfort, with no overthinking to be done. This was the only way you two could see the real you, stripped from all the negativity and expectations, surrounded by the desire to be validated and loved. 

The rest of the walk went smoothly, with you two finally starting to enjoy each other’s company. 

A few more days passed, with you two opening up more, realizing just how similar you were. Now, you were walking around a big castle—the castle where the ruler could change your destiny for good or bad. You and Mingi thought it would be a good idea to see it beforehand, so you wouldn't be too intimidated by the thought of being here for the first time. While you were taking in the new scenery, a soft voice called you: “Mingi, Y/N! You are early.” 

You turned your heads in unison, looking at the quite short man in front of you. His black wolf cut suited his well-sculpted jaw perfectly, and his clothes screamed such luxury that you couldn't help but think you were standing in front of The Nameless Protector, ready to faint right there (hopefully in Mingi's arms). 

“Follow me.”

You looked at Mingi, who had a look as confused as yours. Shrugging, you composed yourselves and followed the man into a room, earning a playful smirk from him. 

“I heard you needed to talk to me. Go on,” he said, though he looked like he was restraining himself from laughing. 

Something was off. 

“Excuse us for a bit,” Mingi said while dragging you aside. “Don’t you think he looks… quite unserious for such a mysterious person?” Mingi asked, looking firstly at you, then at the grand (supposedly) Nameless Protector, his look skeptical. “Like, do you think it was that easy? It seems a bit suspicious to me.”

“You’re right, he looks kinda silly. Let me do the talking,” you said in a determinate tone. 

Your steps led you in the direction of the guy, whose name was apparently Wooyoung, and all Mingi could think of was a massive "This cannot be good.” He gripped his hair, massaging his temples softly—regretting right after, and he swore he would never look away from you again—cause you were holding the poor man by his collar, slamming him on the closest wall. 

“You are not The Nameless Protector, are you? Tell us the truth!” You shouted.

“Y/N, what are you doing? You are ruining everything, stop!” 

“I won’t stop until I find the truth,” you ripped your attention from the shorter guy, turning to face Mingi: “Do you trust me with this?” 

“Yes, I trust you. With everything.” 

“You little gremlin, tell me the tru—what?” 

Pause. Mingi trusts you. The words kept replaying in your mind, surrounded by the butterflies you tried to avoid for so long. The shock you felt made you loosen your grip on Wooyoung’s collar, making him run away from you, fury spread all over his face. 

“How dare you act like that when I wanted to give you a chance and change my mind? You are ungrateful.”

Mingi looked at you, lips parted and face even paler, if that was even possible. Wooyoung kept a serious face for a while,  before bursting into laughter.

“Y’all thought it was me? Hah, you know, you are quite dumb for straight-A students.”  

The vampire clenched his fists and approached the guy, who was now trapped between you and him. 

“I knew you were too easy to find! You liar!” you shouted again, terrifying the guy who raised his hands in defeat. 

“I was paid to do this, please, don’t beat me!” 

Mingi’s eyes grew bigger and he wasn’t sure he heard that right. 

“You are so close to succeeding at this task, guys. Good luck!” Wooyoung said, then snapped his fingers and disappeared. 

What the fuck? Who was this person and how did he even know all of this? Little did you know, though, that somewhere in that castle, The Nameless Protector was watching you proudly.

You and Mingi were on a late-night walk, again. Tomorrow was finally the big day, and you were quite scared, so he wanted to ease your mind a bit. You weren't scared by the ruler per se, you were actually more scared about what would happen after, will you and Mingi go back to normal, or will something more bloom between the two of you? 

“Let's sit there!” he exclaimed excitedly, pointing to a wooden bench. 

He signaled for you to sit first, only for him to lay his head in your lap, inhaling deeply. The cold air hit your face slowly, and he swore you looked even more ethereal, with your hair moving around with the wind. 

“I never thanked you for that night; it was the first time I felt like someone understood me,” he began, playing with your fingers to keep himself occupied.

“You don't have to—” 

"Shhh, let me do the talking,” he smiled: “This little journey of ours made me realize that I never hated you, God, it's actually the other way round.” 

You could feel your heart beating louder, eyes glowing in anticipation. 

“I was so blinded by—by all these labels and all these false expectations everyone had on us, that I never really thought about what I feel,” he paused, standing up from your lap to face you properly: “But now I do. I know that for everything I want to achieve, I want to do it with you by my side. I am in love with you.” 

A familiar sting in your eyes made you notice that you were on the verge of crying because of the words of the man in front of you. If only he knew how much you regretted every bad word you said to him, every name you called him, only to realize that you would find solace in his arms; his cold touch that you grew to adore, his pale skin that you couldn’t stare enough at, his crimson eyes whenever he woke up. 

You grabbed his face softly, and you swore you could see a bit of a blush in his cheeks. Mingi felt proud; he felt like this was now his biggest achievement. He was blinded by the need to prove something—so much that he didn't pay attention to your dedication, the beautiful smile you always wore as an accessory when you were being praised, the tears and sulking whenever your spells didn't work. But he was ready to do so now. He was ready to be the one who made you smile, ready to support you with everything, without having to demonstrate anything to anyone. Just the two of you against the world. 

“I've been wanting to do this since we were on that train.” 

You both giggled, your noses touching and rubbing together, making the giggles turn into louder chuckles—a pure sound of the joy you both felt. You closed your eyes and pressed your lips on his, sealing your unspoken love with a sweet, longing kiss. He tilted your head and deepened the kiss, the hand on your back pulling you closer, and you thought you could melt right there, not getting enough of his rose petals-like lips. The two of you could feel the bond between you growing even stronger, crafted with the feelings and trust you built for each other. 

The last day of your journey finally came, and there you were again, hand in hand in front of the now familiar castle, hoping this time, your meeting would have a better outcome. 

“Together?” you asked, pressing a soft peck on his pale cheek. 

“Together,” he said, kissing your forehead. 

His lips remained on your skin for a while, before he shot you a confident smile and you two started walking towards the big door—though you felt like nothing could have prepared you for what was behind it. There they stood, on a big, black chair. The Nameless Protector and his Right Hand. Though you couldn't imagine it, it was so easy to tell them apart. The more imposing one was quite short and rather innocent-looking, yet he exuded a noble confidence—one that you were sure only a leader could bear. His silky half-black, half-white hair adorned his well-sculpted face, and you took your time to take in his soft features. His sharp nose stood out, making him look like some kind of a model, and you were sure the industry was happy he didn't choose that path. His rosy lips complimented his face beautifully, like the cherry on top, and his aura was something so unique you couldn't find words to describe it. He screamed gentleness, yet also authority—a true ruler who only looked forward, head held high, demanding respect and attention (and you were sure that, with that intimidating aura, he had it all). You saw him scrutinizing the two of you, his eyes landing on your interlocked hands. By this, you could say this was nothing but a Fae's demeanor. The other man, his Right Hand, on the other side, gave off more royal vibes. Despite being a bit taller, it was clear who really held the power. His round face made him look like a prince who was ready to rule the empire once the right time came, black boba eyes on full display. His white hair was falling gracefully on his face, fitting right in with his plump lips and soft nose. He also exuded a strong, powerful aura, but it was clear that the line between sweet and ruthless wasn’t blurry for him. He was definitely a fairy.

“You finally made it, congratulations, Mingi and Y/N!” 

The Nameless Protector exclaimed softly, giving the two of you a round of applause, accompanied by his reliable man. 

“I see the two of you have passed the test,” the fairy pointed out the way you were still holding each other's hands, his pearly white teeth showing through a sincere smile. 

You looked at Mingi, wondering if he had the same idea as you did. Was this all a test? 

“Yes, my dear. It was a test.”

Damn, you didn't voice your thoughts out loud, did you? 

“It is no lie that I wanted to stop investing so much in your university, so I asked your professors to send their most trusted students to me. I've heard about the constant rivalry between the two of you, so it intrigued me. I wanted to see how far you would go to protect your safe place, how much of each other you could stand to prove your points, how long until you notice you two are made to fight next to each other.” The Fae said softly. 

“Oh, and you also dealt with Wooyoung, so that was kind of a bonus.” The fairy giggled, making you and Mingi more relaxed as your laughter filled the room. 

“So… it was all a plan? Will you keep investing in our university?” you asked, hope audible in your voice. 

“Yes, it was a plan that succeeded, like always,” he flexed, chuckling at his own joke: “And yes. You have convinced me that your university is worth investing in. Furthermore, where would be the fun in ruling, if you two were the last students I could mess with?” 

You and Mingi completely let loose and started laughing, being interrupted by a fake cough. Oh, you ruined it all, didn't you? 

“Excuse me, sweeties, but wouldn’t you like to be part of my council?” 

[s1m0nth3swag]

Viktor x gn!reader - fluff | 2.8k Words

reader is academy student

casual friendship to lovers

sweet and sassy vik

set between Acts 1 and 2, season 1

reader crushes on vik and is meant to be an artist

Viktor is working on Blitzcrank bcs that's his son

Please visit my Ko-Fi for personalised stories and updates on my uploads here on Tumblr!

Might make a part 2 of this with jayvik x reader because Jayce is a silly guy and would accidentally walk in on reader and Viktor being lovey dovey and be like "me too pls"

Nothing really kept you from just going to bed. It was late - much later than you were used to staying up, anyway - and you had finished your studying for the day. Usually, you’d put on your fluffy pajamas right about now and pass out in your comfy bed, dreaming of future goals and some stupid things that’d sneak their way into your slumber. However, today was not a usual day, in the sense of you having one last thing to do: annoy Viktor. Well, at least that’s what you would probably end up doing, even though that absolutely was not your goal. You wanted the complete opposite, actually. 

You had gotten to know the scientist a few weeks back after both of you had visited a seminar - well, you had been forced by a friend because they hadn’t wanted to go alone, while Viktor had been there on his own accord. It had been a little silly really, you had kept whispering questions to your friend so you could understand whatever the professor was yapping on about and Viktor had gotten visibly annoyed. He had passed you a note after a while, telling you to be quiet or leave. You had wanted to sink into your seat and perish, sending the note back with a long message about how sorry you were. Apparently, that had caught his attention, because he approached you after the seminar, asking about your reason to come if you couldn’t understand the simple basics of it. For a moment you had thought he was making fun of you, but when he asked if you had at least found it interesting, you realised that was just the way he was. 

Somehow, a friendship had formed from that small conversation. Funnily enough, you kept running into Viktor in the halls, striking small conversations with him every now and then, before going about your day. You had started wondering about him at some point, always something along the lines of what he actually did at the academy. He certainly didn’t act like any of the other students, and you had never seen him at another seminar since then. The only facts you knew was that his name was Viktor, that he needed a cane and that he could absolutely destroy anyone with words alone - you had noticed when someone made fun of him for talking to you. 

It’d be an understatement to say that you simply liked Viktor. He was nice to you, different from the other students, like he was actually being serious and not just putting up an appearance. You quite liked his accent too, it somehow lulled you to be calm whenever he spoke - even when he was a little annoyed at you (which happened surprisingly often nowadays, though you knew it was all good on Viktors part). You couldn’t even get started on his appearance, he just looked too ethereal to even be real. 

In short, you were absolutely whipped for Viktor.  

Who could really blame you, with all those reasons to love him? And in your defence, Viktor seemed to quite like your company as well. He had invited you to the lab, after all - which is why you were in this situation in the first place. You could’ve denied the offer, but the thought of meeting Viktor in his lab late at night, all alone, made your brain go haywire and your heart immediately said yes without a second thought. In the end though, you stood right here, in front of his lab, too nervous to go in. What if you said something stupid? What if he secretly hated you and only asked you to come because he wanted to ridicule you? 

You were definitely lost deep in thought for a while, hand raised to knock at the tall doors to the lab, until someone emerged from them, running right into you. “Oh! I'm so sorry, are you alright?” The man asked after having taken a step back. You had seen him before, in the academy, though the two of you had never spoken to each other. You knew his name from your friend - they apparently had had some classes together a few times. “I'm fine. I should be the one who's sorry..” you chuckled awkwardly as you averted your gaze. “I was in your way, sorry.” You then add, smiling up at the other apologetically. “Oh, don't worry about it. I'm Jayce, Jayce Talis. Don't think I've seen you around before?” He chuckles, extending his hand towards you. You shake it, telling him your name in return. “I've just… Well, Viktor invited me, actually..” You speak, unsure if Viktor wanted to let Jayce know that. Maybe this was supposed to be secret? Maybe he'd be ashamed of meeting with you? You quickly shake the thought from your head as Jayce grins down at you. “Well, I'll leave you two to it, then. Have a Good night!” There's something in his eyes that makes you question if you should actually stay, but he holds the lab door open for you, so you just slip past him quickly. 

The inside of the lab was surprisingly dark, only a few lights flickering here and there. One prominent one shone onto Viktor, who was evidently engaged in his work. You stepped over silently, not wanting to disturb him, looking over his shoulder to watch. You understood little of his notes and the small device he was tinkering with, but you liked to see the way his fingers carefully worked, cradling the device with such care that you wished you were in its place instead. “Are you going to say hello or just stand there?” Viktor suddenly hums, and you almost yelp at being caught off guard. “I… I hadn't thought that you noticed me.” You mumble, once again feeling awkward. “I heard your conversation with Jayce.” The other responds, glancing over at you for a moment. “There's chairs over there, if you'd like to sit.” the brown haired then added, quickly pointing towards a small stack of chairs before continuing his work. You trot over there, feeling out of place as you pick one up and carry it beside Viktor. Not too close - as much as you wanted that, you'd probably die of embarrassment. Or worse, Viktor would tell you to back off. You sat down silently, hands in your lap because you didn't know where else to put them. “.. What're you working on?” You question, hoping it wouldn't pull Viktor out of the clear state of focus he was in. “Just some small thing… It'll be part of a bigger project.” He answers. “It's..  a personal project so I don't work on it when Jayce is in the lab.” He adds, looking over at you for a moment.

Your heart jumps a little - he's working on a personal project that he doesn't even show Jayce while you're there. You tell yourself to get your shit together immediately, though. Viktor probably just thinks that you won't snitch on him. “It's actually why I asked you to come here… I'm not good with.. aesthetics, as you'd say, so I was wondering if you could.. make this look more friendly.” He mutters, pushing his notebook towards you. A simple sketch of what seemed to be a robot was lazily thrown onto the page, all kinds of little bits of information written around it. “Blitzcrank..?” You read, looking up at Viktor in question. “The name is uh.. work in progress.” He answers, actually seeming kind of bashful about it. “It's cute. I like it.” You hum, looking closer at the sketch. “Make them look more friendly, huh?” You sigh before looking for a pencil, mumbling a soft thanks when Viktor hands you one. “They're supposed to be for Zaun. Help out and such.” Viktor explains. “I do not want kids to be scared of them.” You find it kind of endearing, really. You’ve known that Viktor is from Zaun himself, it's never made a difference to you, but that he actually wants to help his people in his own way was… cute. “Well, I don't know much about functionality, but going off of your sketch..” you hum, grabbing a piece of blank paper (you prayed that there wasn't any useful stuff on the other side) and made your own little sketch, tweaking Viktors design here and there. “I think this could work. Give them some light colours and they should be fine. Like yellow or something.” You speak, sliding your sketch back over to Viktor alongside his notebook. The other nods, taking a look at your design. “.. yes, this should be fine.” He smiles softly, quickly noting ‘Blitzcrank Design 2’ over your sketch, alongside your name. “You like it?” You ask, feeling a little insecure.

You've never been really proud of any of your work - art has always been more of a silly hobby than something you could be great in.

Viktor hums, nodding slightly as he stashes the paper among the rest of his notes. “I do. Besides, your art is above my potential, I could have never done something like this.” He answers, running a hand through his already messy hair. You get the sudden urge to fix it up, already raising your hand before catching yourself again. You shouldn’t act on a whim with Viktor, he was always so calm and collected, surely he would appreciate it if you were as well. “Is there something on my face?” Viktor sighs, glancing over at you with the softest hint of a grin. “Ah- No. Sorry.” You laugh awkwardly as you quickly rest your hand back in your lap. “I just.. your.. Well, your hair is messy.” You add, pointing at the soft strands - at least you thought they’d be soft, his hair always looked like he took particular care of it. “Fix it up, then. That’s what you wanted, yes?” Viktor chuckles, leaning his head towards you slightly. His words alone make you freeze up, completely caught in shock. It takes you a moment or two before you slowly raise your hand again, carefully carding your fingers through the scientist's hair - it was soft, you noted while fixing up each and every strand. You took your time, wanting to cherish the simple moment while it lasted. God knows Viktor probably would never offer physical closeness like this again. For a while you even considered just not pulling away, especially when Viktor sighed as you softly dragged your fingers over his scalp. Viktor actually leans into your touch, humming softly as you gently massage him, your face flushes at the intimacy of the moment. You have to awkwardly clear your throat so you can get yourself together and pull away, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that Viktors cheeks had gotten a bit of colour as well. You brush it off, figuring that it was just the lighting. 

The rest of the evening goes by easily, a little small talk as you watch Viktor work, plus he tells you more about his ‘Blitzcrank’ project. It’s nice, really, getting to spend time with him so easily. You liked it, the atmosphere of the lab was surprisingly calming, even though small beeps and cracks from other experiments still startled you from time to time. Viktor didn’t seem to notice, too focused on whatever he was doing - honestly, his focused face was kind of cute… You had to keep yourself from staring multiple times, which definitely made you glad that Viktor was in his own little zone. 

Still, the night had to come to an end - at least for you. Viktor said he’d stay up a little longer, wishing you a good night as you left the lab, a giddy feeling in your stomach as you did. You hoped Viktor had liked it as much as you did, nothing would make you feel worse than if you had completely annoyed him the whole time. 

Luckily, your hopes came real when Viktor asked you to join him in the lab once again a few days later. Jayce would be there, but you seriously didn't care. Nothing mattered when you could spend more of your time with the most interesting person on the planet - you were seriously gone, you actually found yourself daydreaming about Viktor during your classes. It had become awful, you had actually been caught by your Professors multiple times and had been ridiculed for not being mentally present. It was hard to care, though, when the small Viktor in your mind was holding onto your hand and telling you how he'd like to spend the evening with you. 

You found yourself making your way to Viktor's lab once more, a little jump in your step as you hum a soft tune. Nothing could stop you from being absolutely delighted at the premise of getting to watch Viktor work once again. His skilled fingers carefully tending to small devices, his eyes completely focused… Oh you absolutely would go to hell for your thoughts. This time, you didn't wait before slowly pushing the door open, though you did stop in your tracks when Jayce, once again, stood directly in front of you. “Ah! There you are. I thought you'd be too scared to get inside again.” The man grins, though the tease is half hearted. You stumble around your words awkwardly for a second, before Viktors huff saves you. “Leave it, Jayce, we both know you're a lost puppy whenever you get to a new place.” Your saviour hums, and you can't help but chuckle slightly, cheeks already the softest hint of red as you ignore Jayce - who actually pouts as you don't answer his next question - and step towards Viktor. “Hi.” You grin, looking down at what the other was scribbling down. “Hello.” Viktor answers, giving you a small smile. You sit down beside him again - surprisingly, your chair from last time is still there. You wonder if it's just by chance or if Viktor actually left it there for you. “Lovebirds.” Jayce chuckles, earning a soft glare from Viktor. For a second it looks like he's also contemplating throwing a pencil after the other, he decides against it, though. “You are just mad that you cannot land a date, Jayce.” He scowls instead, and it genuinely makes your heart burst. Was this a date? Is this what is Viktors definition of a date is? Was the last meeting a date? Your brain rushed with thoughts and feelings at Viktors simple words, and the lab filled with silence. You noticed that none of the sounds you had perceived the first time were there now - those experiments were probably finished. “...you two don't have to keep back for my sake-” Jayce suddenly says, which now actually earns him a lazily thrown pencil. “Jayce, how about you take a little walk?” Viktor grumbles, his accent a little heavier than usually. “You're no fun.” Jayce sighs, but he actually gathers his stuff and leaves the lab. “... is this a date?” You can't help but ask as soon as the door falls closed. Viktor freezes for a moment, setting his work aside to properly look at you. “I… Well… Yes. I figured you knew that?” He admitted, he actually looked bashful about it. “Was that… not clear?” He then asked, running a hand through his hair. “Viktor, you asked me to spend time with you in your lab.” You answered matter of factly. “Yes, I indeed did that.” “Do you not see the issue?” Viktor thinks for a moment at your question. “Should I have asked you to go out with me? I never quite allow anyone in here - well, Jayce has a mind of his own with visitors…” He mutters. You chuckle slightly at the look on his face - for someone so smart he wasn't being much of a genius right now. “Well, anything would've been better if you had wanted to bring across that this was a date.” You sigh, rubbing your temple slightly as your cheeks flush a heavy red. “I mean, I didn't… I didn't know you thought of it this way…” You add, looking up at Viktor nervously. “... I thought you would know. I had been quite open about my interest in you-” He starts, clearing his throat slightly. “... have I not been?” You shake your head softly. “Not open enough that I noticed. But, for the record, I.. really like that this is a date. And I like that the last one was a date.” You admit, sheepishly resting your hand on his. You almost burst into a fit of nervous laughter when he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Then, am I right to assume that you would like to.. spend more time in the lab with me?” He questions, a small smile on his lips as he looks at you. “Gladly.” You respond, smiling back at him happily. 

[aangelinakii]

CRASH–CRUSH.

— get your driving checked!

summary : on your way to a tutor session at the library, you almost hit someone. when you find your table, you find someone else.

note : i thought of this after i came back from driving lessons but don't worry i didn't actually almost hit anyone it's okay

next time you're running late you'll remind yourself not to drive so fast. or maybe, you know, you'll remind yourself not to be so late.

maybe the lead foot on the gas pedal is fuelled by the anger and embarrassment of being told by your professor that you're failing your course — and it doesn't feel any much better when you get told one of your fellow students will be getting paid to tutor you.

pretentious piece of—

shit!

one foot slams on the clutch whilst the other pounds on the brake, your hands on the wheel swerve and you almost drive up onto the curb. at least the pedestrian's safe, although they were jaywalking. although you were going a little faster than you should.

breath catching in your throat, eyes wide, molars clenching in the back of your mouth, you look up at the road — no cars, but the person you almost hit was still standing there. not afraid, just very, very angry.

as your eyes meet — his beneath furrowed brows — he seems to angrily mouth something, gesturing something just as rude with his hand.

there's nothing much else you can do but shrug in response as he walks off onto the pavement on the other side. some people's children...

with one quick glance over your shoulder for any incoming traffic, your eyes land on the man again, sauntering off down the sidewalk; although you hadn't registered his face properly in your brief encounter, you could recognise that silky black hair anywhere.

of course you'd recognise it, when it was the silky black hair you purposely sat behind every lecture. well, the ones you attended.

you didn't even know his name; all you knew was he was gorgeous, from the front and back.

but apparently didn't take lightly to almost getting hit by cars.

hopefully you'd be fine; it wasn't like he ever turned around anyway.

not that it was your fault there was no parking around here, but by now you're beginning to understand you should've left your house earlier — who knew the library would be such a sought-after place today?

as you pull out to do your umpteenth round of the block, your phone buzzes in the cup holder. after your near-miss, you will yourself to keep your eyes on the road, and foot light on the gas.

after a good ten more minutes you give in and park another two blocks away from the town library. at least you'll get some steps in.

finally, as you shoulder your bag, you tap into your message app and scan through the text you received from your student tutor. judging by the limited texts you'd shared so far, he seemed nice, named richard — but anyone who willingly signs up to be a tutor for someone else in your course is pretentious as fuck. they couldn't have just paired you up with a professor?

so sorry, running a little late. the parking around here is awful.

something in your ribs rips away, relief pooling over your chest as you rapidly type back. with everything that had happened this morning (no parking, almost running someone over) it was safe to say you were glad richard was having a late day so far too.

no worries! i just managed to find somewhere to park but it took absolutely ages! i'll be there in a few, sorry

just as you move to shove your phone in your pocket, it buzzes again, and you glance back with raised brows at the screen.

that's ok, i'm seated at the back near the thrillers. no pun intended.

what the pun was not supposed to be, you're not sure, but richard's already in the library, and you aren't, so you need to speed up.

despite the horrendous parking, stepping into the library is somewhat anti-climactic; there's only a light buzz of tapping away on keyboards and the flips of bookpages, and the hushed chatter behind shelves. with the state of the roads, you would've expected everybody to be here today.

eyeing up the genre signs above each row of shelves, you step further into the depths of the library, looking around for the thriller section, as well as any nerdy-looking guys at tables.

there's some guy with glasses outside romance fiction a–d, and a skinny red-head lingering by the comics, but none of them look like richard.

without a face to the name, it's difficult to tell what he looks like anyway.

but when you find the thriller section, your heart all but drops.

there, seated at one of the tables, laptop sprung open, digital blue light washing over his handsome features, an open notebook page settled before him, is the guy you almost ran over — the guy you consistently sit behind every lecture.

that couldn't be him, right?

he's probably here drafting up an essay you didn't know about, being an amicable student.

you glance around the space, where there are a few other people working solo at tables in front of laptops or journals; any of them could be richard, apart from maybe the old lady struggling to use the mouse on one of the library computers.

quietly you step back, half-covered by the shelf of hardback thrillers, and pull out your phone.

hey sorry almost there, where abouts will you be?

a phone buzzes loudly on a table, and you glance up, as well as a few others peeved off by the sound.

something uncomfortable squirms in your stomach when gorgeous lecture guy/near-miss hit-and-run guy lurches forward to grab his phone before it can buzz again. he starts tapping away, not without a semblance of annoyance, and you look back down at your screen, where a grey speech bubble is bobbing up and down.

here's hoping he didn't get to memorise your face when he almost got hit.

you don't even leave your phone on long enough to see his reply, you just bite down your pride and keep it in the pits of your stomach.

when he notices your presence, richard looks up, and barely a second goes by where his face is devoid of anger; maybe it wasn't that you'd hit him, maybe he's just always like this. "you have some nerve," he grumbled, a crease forming between his furrowed brows, ocean eyes darkening like a tempest.

"yeah, well, i don't really want to be getting tutored by a big man-baby either, so..." you respond coolly, though the paleness of your knuckles as you grip the straps of your bag may be letting you down.

richard realises almost immediately the irony of the situation, and the idea of getting paid for his time going over the course content with you seems to smoothe out the lines etched into his face, but he can't let go of them fully. "i see," he states, sitting a little straighter. "do you usually run over your tutors, or was it just for me?"

you pull out the chair opposite him and slide into place, moving your bag from your shoulder. "i haven't had a tutor before."

his eyes flicker over to his computer screen and back. "judging by the grades you're getting in out course, i can see that."

so, pretty boy doesn't have a personality to match the face. you should've guessed by how much he puts his hand up in every fucking lecture. like, come on, just let the professor speak.

a few beats of silence pass, and you're sure you're doing a bad job of trying to conceal your irritation. richard — or should you say dick — is looking ahead, cool as a cucumber, as if he's used to being a douche for a living.

"so... about earlier..." you begin, but richard cuts you off.

"oh, is this where you say sorry for almost ramming me down in that thing you call a car?"

there's a lot of words for him right now, and luckily he's already been born with that name, so you don't need to worry about offending him.

your jaw sets. "does anyone ever call you dick?"

maybe your mind's been messing with you ever since you almost hit someone, but you're sure you can see the shadow of a smile on his lips.

richard watches you for only a moment more, before he turns to his laptop. "shall we get started, then?"

although you're unsure whether you've won or not, you'll gladly call an unspoken stalemate — and if he stays this nice, maybe you won't mind coming back for a second lesson.

[whorediaries-09]

I’ve been thinking alotttt about rivals! Remy where him and r have been hooking up but the r starts gaining feelings for rem and distants herself but rem is just like “what the hell?” And then they like admit their feelings when rem corners her one day curious😩

i'm sorry this took so long, but i hope you like this!!

friends;

pairing- remus lupin x reader warning(s)- cigarettes, alludes to sex, hurt/comfort. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- academic rivals to lovers is so precious to me you don't understand.

little train

' girl, I'm not with it, I'm way too far gone i'm not ready, eyes heavy now,'

'i can't believe i've to work with your pathetic ass,' he rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his hair. your eyes wandered over to the burn marks on them, probably from all the joints he smoked. you could hear his friends laughing behind his back. even peter, the quietest and the most tolerable of the lot, was laughing. you scowled, tilting your head to meet his eyes,

'i don't remember you saying that last night. you said i've a perfect ass. maybe you have a problem of short term memory loss?' in an instant, you saw his cheeks reddening and eyes widening comically when he registered your words. his hand slapped upon your mouth, trying to shut you up.

he received a flying paper ball on his head. he turned his head around to find sirius waving his index finger at him

'not in class, moony.' he said, as peter tried not to laugh. he was measuring the ingredients written on the blackboard.

'hello my lovely students!' slughorn's overly cheery voice rang throughout the classroom. the class sang him a dull good morning. it was winter after all, most of the students wanted nothing but to snuggle up in bed within the folds of their cozy blankets drinking hot chocolate. the only energetic person was sirius, and he sang,

'good morning sluggy!' slughorn knitted his eyebrows together at the nickname but didn't say anything.

'good morning, mr. black. i see you've preferred to follow the rules for once and sit on the desk assigned to you.' sirius shrugged his shoulders, batting his eyelashes.

'you and i, we're the best matchmakers, mr. slughorn. we're a team,' what he meant, the saints knew. perhaps that would be taking a step too far, because by the slight smirk on slughorn's face, he knew what sirius meant.

'mr. black, i prefer the student and professor dynamics between us better,' he replied, scratching his eyebrow with his fingernail. sirius groaned mockingly.

'okay class, settle down. we're making amortentia today.' raising your hand, you questioned,

'the love potion?'

'yes, exactly the love potion. of course no magic is as powerful to be able to imitate real love. however, it does create a powerful infatuation, with the person who gave it to the drinker. the scent varies based on what the person likes. it's a very complicated potion to make, but anyone who makes the perf-'

his speech was interrupted by a famished lily evans who was as red as her hair and a grinning james potter. her tie was loose, dangling off her collar and his hair was ruffled. lily's usually nicely ironed uniform was full of wrinkles.

'oh wow! head boy and head girl late to class!' slughorn scowled. by the look on his face, however, he was regretting his choice to let the ever infatuated james potter and the stubborn lily evans sit together.

'just sit down the both of you!' he scolded and they entered the classroom, lily's bag almost spilling parchment and ink bottles. slughorn coughed and continued,

'so as i was saying, who ever makes the perfect love potion gets-' he put his hand into his pocket, pulling out a little bottle full of a clear liquid. '-this. can anyone tell me what this is?'

'felix felicis.' sirius said. further words conversation wasn't recorded by your mind when remus bent down, whispering in your ear,

'do you think they hooked up?' you eyes widened as you looked at him. your eyes unconsciously travelled down to his chapped lips. the taste still remained on your tongue.

'do you like- actually think before speaking? james potter and lily evans hooking up! lily would rather die, he hates the guy.' remus shrugged his shoulder, a small smirk on his lips.

'i mean, look at us, we hate each other but the other day you wouldn't let me stop eating you out-'

'oh please shut up! just get the fucking ingredients!' he smiled, as you try to hide your face with you hair, suddenly very intrigued by your book.

'okay madam,' he said, mock saluting.

*-

after a lot of banter and distractions you ended up with a potion which only looked seconds away from an explosion. there was certainly no 'mother of pearl' sheen or any rising steam in a characteristic spiral. even pearl dust couldn't save the disaster of a potion.

'oh god why did i have to work with you!' you gripped your hair with your fingers, almost pulling them off as you sat down on the chair, chewing on your lip.

'my grades will go down!' you snapped. he turned around, a wince on his face.

'so will mine. this shit is team work and if your grades go down, so will mine.' he stated. you rolled your eyes as he sat down beside you, his palm on your shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

'i shouldn't be comforting my academic rival but guess if you low, i go lower.' your ears perked up at the term. 'academic rival.' he didn't even consider you a friend. that's all you were to him, an academic rival, a benchmark to cross, a quick fuck when he was tired. you gulped slowly. suddenly, your throat felt very dry. you stared into his eyes, trying to decipher something, but trust god to give remus lupin the most dead eyes known to mankind.

'ohhh! we have a winner!' slughorn's voice pulled you from your thoughts. your head snapped to the source of commotion, expecting to find lily to be the winner- but it was sirius.

'mr. black, this felix felicis is yours,' he threw a charming grin to all the flushed young ladies and lads as his fingers wrapped around the little bottle. most of the girls and boys almost swooned at his antics, and some could be found a few seconds from fainting when he winked.

'get it padfoot!' james cheered. lily disapprovingly hit james' head with her book. james scowled.

'i want everybody to come and tell me what they smell in here. let's start with mr. black,' he smiled, staring at the eager faces of the young ladies and lads who surrounded him as if he was a trophy.

'i smell petrol, rain and my favorite tea. i can also smell..uh cherry flavored shampoo, and my cologne.' it was nothing very interesting. neither of them used cherry shampoo. and it wasn't just a flying rumor that sirius black rode a motorcycle.

'ah, good, good.' slughorn praised, patting his back. his eyes wandered about in the room before they stopped at your direction.

'okay yes, now you,' he said, instructing you to smell the potion. internally you called him an old cow. externally you smiled, a little more than actually required, and too fake to be a real smile. no comments were passed when you walked up to the front of the classroom, smelling the potion.

'ah- so i smell parchment, ink, coffee, vanilla....cigarettes and dark chocolate.' you stumbled upon your words when you found remus looking at you intently. you tried to ignore the burning gaze and how the blood rushed into your cheeks. slughorn coughed slightly,

'okay, now next student!' he clapped his hands together, trying to cut through the sudden tension in the room. you moved away from the smoking cauldron, walking towards your chair. sitting down, you pondered.

cigarettes? damn you, you hated cigarettes! you'd been reluctant to try one for the first time, but trust remus to roll you the perfect blunt and manipulate you to try it in the best way possible. you remembered coughing up the smoke onto his face.

dark chocolate? sure you enjoyed it here and there but it wasn't certainly something you loved. you wanted to rip out your hair.

the realization had been lingering upon your head from the last few weeks, but you didn't want to act upon it. a lot of people mistake lust for love. you were a teenager high on hormones, hooking up with remus lupin, your biggest academic rival- of course you were bound to mistake lust for life.

perhaps the heated kisses within the shadows of dark nights, the way his hands lingered upon your body, making you feel alive as he touched you down to your core, the heat crawling under your skin, dizzying your mind, the way he begged to touch you, to feel you meant more than just lust. perhaps it was closeted love. but it didn't mean good news. having a crush was fine, but falling for remus john lupin was bad news. it meant heartbreak, a new rumor for the nosy students of hogwarts.

so you did the best thing that came in your mind to maintain your feelings and keep your heart in control. it wouldn't be very effective, considering remus was your partner in potions for the year, but you'd try your best. no hooking up, just necessary conversations. all you had to do was ignore him. the less you saw him, the better.

*-

remus looked up to your face, his sweaty strands of hair sticking onto his forehead. his calloused hands gripped your waist as he thrust his hips upwards. you bent down, brushing his lips against yours. you held down his hands, pinning them above his head. he tried to crane his neck to kiss your lips, but you didn't allow him holding his hands tighter.

slowly, torturously slow you started rotating your hips. he arched his back, moaning your name, his fingers trying to grasp the fabric of the head board.

'god, you feel so fucking good,' he moaned. you smirked, your tongue swiping over your teeth.

'i know,'

suddenly, his face started to distort, and he started laughing at you. weird, that is not how you remembered that night. he was jerking you, before everything went hazy and your vision started blackening and you saw a tunnel of light. you tried to grasp onto the light, escaping the booming sound of his laughter.

it was a fucking dream. you rubbed your eyes, pushing your face into the pillow, silencing your scream, so as to not wake up the others. you hated how pathetic it made you feel. how did it happen?

within the spills of ink on parchment paper and a constant comparison, how could have your feelings changed like this. perhaps you thought of him too much. you were supposed to ignore him. in the typical sense you were, but your mind or heart wasn't ready to go.

you were standing on the edge of a fucking knife, wondering if remus lupin even considered you to be a friend. you hated yourself for falling for him. it wasn't supposed to be more than sex, a quick relief from the constant shambles of your lives, yet here you were, in the middle of the night thinking of the one you were supposed to hate.

slipping your feet into the cozy bunny slippers, you grabbed your thickest jumper. you couldn't sleep, so you might as well take a walk. james and lily were on duty, but you were sure they weren't being as responsible as they were supposed to be.

*-

it was cold. the snow that settled on the grounds was thick and milky white. the cold wind bit your skin, prickling it with goosebumps. you felt a lump in your throat thicken, and your eyes burn. you felt your heart drop. you blamed yourself for the situation you were in. it was your fault, utterly. you weren't supposed to fall for him.

even the stars couldn't calm you down with their serene rays. you dropped your head into your palms, letting the tears fall down your cheeks, sobbing silently.

'talking a walk alone at night now are we?' a voice quietly creeped up behind your back. you wiped your cheeks quickly, mentally preparing yourself to being caught by a prefect and getting your house points deducted. when you turned around, however, you were met with the amber eyes of the one you'd been thinking about. your tongue was tied in knots as you watched him drop james' invisibility cloak on the floor and walk towards you. you backed away, until your back hit the wall and there was nowhere to go.

'r-remus-' he raised an eyebrow, capturing you against the wall, his hand pressed against the wall. he leaned down, his finger crawling under your jaw and tilting your head to meet his burning amber like gaze.

'have you been crying?' he asked. you stared at him, tongue twisted in knots. but you knew it was no use lying to him. he could read you like a book.

'yes,' you nodded. he tilted an eyebrow.

'why?'

'why does it fucking matter remus? leave me alone- i'm not even your fucking friend.'

'then what are we? you've been ignoring me for the past few days, and now you're running away when i've finally got you alone.'

'nice try, lupin. you don't give a shit, so just let me go.'

'oh so you're going to decide whether i give a shit about you or not? what if i tell you i do?'

'you won't mean it.'

'i will. i've never lied to you,' he said. there was a bitter sadness in his eyes. you could see the darkness in his gaze, and even if he naturally had dead eyes, you could see a tiny ray of warmth in his gaze.

'please.' he said, letting you go. 'just tell me what's wrong. tell me what i've done. tell me how i can fix it. just...please don't ignore me.' he begged. slowly gulping, you pondered whether it was the correct moment to speak out your heart. perhaps it wasn't, but he could right through the lies. and while you had a lot of explanations hidden in your head, you could only whisper one line,

'i'm in love with you, remus,' he stared at you intently, letting your words hang before he could act upon them. you expected screaming, cussing...laughter. you didn't expect a soft gaze as he smiled at you. he slipped his finger under you jaw, tilting your head.

'i don't think you ignore the one's you're in love with,' you screwed your eyes shut, biting your lip. the blood warmly travelled to your cheeks,

'you don't feel the same, i was scared.'

'and how exactly do you know that?' you opened your eyes, to find him staring at you in utter glee.

'i've been yours before you touched me. all it took was spilled ink on my essay, sweetheart.'

********************************

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

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[blackenedsnow]

I have the creepiest idea If you like idk.

If you've watched Demon Slayer, you might know the kocho shinobu, and whatever I say, she is constantly medicating/poison herself after the death of her older sister so I thought about this so here it goes.

After Shadow was created for Maria,Reader was was created by Professor Gerald, but after Maria's death, they both went into depression, but all she wanted was revenge, she wanted to kill the person..who had planned to kill her she had to kill them..with her own hands or..body..? She had only one idea. She had no choice. She was injecting poison into her own body every day like 37kg could kill which can kill around 1000+ humans if she got shot or killed yk what I mean, and she went on tirelessly. She blocks every emotion away and keeps her smile while her eyes are empty since maria liked her smile she always smiled and blocked all the emotions.

One day she was injecting poison into his body again, but she had promised shadow and sonic were going on a trip together, but while she was injecting the poison, she was constantly crying in pain but she closed her mouth but she fall to the floor (it happens everytime when she does that) the two wondered got worried and opened the door at once, they were shocked and terrified by the sight of their beloved sister lying on the floor with..poison syringe in her hand.

What would they do..? Will she continue until she got revenge or they will stop her? (Song or anything recommend to listen make it more creepy:the lobotomy)

Have a nice day.

toxic salvation

WARNING: Self-harm (poison injections) depression, death and grief, emotional trauma, hurt/comfort, angst with a glimmer of hope

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog & (Fem) Reader, Sonic the Hedgehog & (Fem) Reader

NOTE: I love the idea! It’s dark and intense. I haven’t watched Demon Slayer, but I’m definitely up for the challenge. As always, feel free to send as many requests as you’d like! Also, thank you for the song.

SUMMARY: After Maria’s death, all you want is revenge, even if it means destroying yourself with deadly poison. When Shadow and Sonic discover your dangerous secret, they’re determined to stop you before you lose yourself completely.

You had been created with one purpose—to be a companion for Maria, just like Shadow. The three of you were meant to be family. But when Maria was killed, something inside you broke. The light you once carried, the joy of being by her side, was snuffed out in an instant, leaving you with nothing but an empty shell and a searing hatred.

Maria had always admired your smile, and so you smiled. But that was all it was—an empty expression, masking the gnawing rage that consumed you. You couldn’t simply mourn. You needed revenge. You needed to make them pay.

The poison was your solution. You knew you didn’t have the raw power that Shadow did. You couldn’t fight like Sonic. But you could turn your own body into a weapon—a lethal trap, a ticking time bomb. Every day, you injected more poison into yourself, quietly building up a dose that could kill thousands. If they ever struck you down, it would be their last mistake.

But the poison came at a price. Your body weakened, your muscles ached, and the constant pain was unbearable. Still, you carried on, day after day, injecting the venom into your veins. Each time, you collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down your face, but you kept quiet, biting back the agony. You couldn’t let anyone find out. They wouldn’t understand. This was your burden to bear alone.

You had promised Shadow and Sonic that you would join them for a trip that day. It was supposed to be a rare moment of peace, a break from the constant tension. But as the time to leave drew closer, you found yourself unable to move, paralyzed by the familiar burning sensation coursing through your body.

You were alone in the small, sterile room you’d claimed as your own. The syringe was still clutched in your trembling hand, its needle gleaming in the dim light. Tears blurred your vision as you pressed the plunger, releasing another dose of venom into your veins. The pain hit you immediately—sharp, excruciating, and unrelenting.

You fell to the floor, gasping silently for air. You had no strength left to cry out, so you bit your lip, suppressing the sobs that threatened to escape. You had done this a hundred times, maybe more. But this time, it felt worse. Your body was rejecting it, your heart pounding wildly in your chest, your vision blackening at the edges.

But still, you smiled. The way Maria had always liked.

The syringe in your hand slipped from your grip, clattering onto the cold floor, the faint metallic sound echoing in the room. The venom had done its work, the familiar burn spreading through your veins, a bitter reminder of the choice you made every day.

You promised them you'd go on this trip, promised that things would be normal today. But here you were again, falling into the same cycle, trapped in this twisted routine of self-destruction. The tears rolled down your face, silent as always. The pain was sharp and relentless, but you refused to scream. Maria had loved your smile, after all. She never wanted to see you cry.

Your body gave out beneath you, knees buckling as you crumpled to the floor, limbs heavy, vision blurring. You felt the cold bite of the floor against your skin, but it was distant, far away, like the rest of the world. The only thing that mattered now was the poison in your veins, the growing numbness that followed.

It had always been this way. The agony came first, sharp and violent, and then, slowly, the numbness would set in, blanketing everything in cold indifference. You’d gotten used to it by now—this was your life. Every injection brought you closer to your goal, and each time, you felt a little less alive.

Meanwhile, Shadow and Sonic were waiting for you just outside. Mainly Sonic had been preparing for a small trip, something to help take everyones mind off everything. It wasn’t often you all got to relax, but today was supposed to be different.

“Where is she?” Sonic asked, pacing back and forth. “She said she’d be ready by now, right?”

Shadow, who had been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, glanced at the door to your room. “She’s probably still getting ready. Give her a minute.”

But Sonic wasn’t convinced. “You sure? I mean, she’s been acting kinda off lately, y’know?”

Shadow’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Sonic said, frowning. “She’s been… quiet. I mean, more than usual. Like, something’s wrong, but she won’t talk about it. I just get this feeling…”

Shadow’s expression remained impassive, but Sonic’s words struck a chord with him. He had noticed it too. You had been a lot more distant lately, your usual warmth replaced by a cold, almost mechanical detachment. You smiled, but it never reached your eyes. And there were times when Shadow caught you staring off into space, lost in your own thoughts, your expression hollow.

Before Shadow could respond, a loud thud came from inside your room.

Both of them froze.

“What was that?” Sonic asked, his voice suddenly tense.

Shadow was already moving, pushing past Sonic and heading straight for your door. “Something’s wrong.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Grabbing the handle, he swung the door open with enough force to rattle the frame. The sight that greeted him was worse than anything he had imagined.

You were lying on the floor, motionless, a syringe lying just inches away from your limp hand. Your face was pale, your body trembling as you struggled to breathe. There were tears in your eyes, but your lips were curled into that same, empty smile.

“(Y/N)!” Sonic shouted, rushing to your side. He dropped to his knees beside you, his eyes wide with panic. “What happened?”

Shadow stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, his mind reeling. The sight of the syringe, the state you were in—it all clicked together in an instant, and a cold wave of dread washed over him. His crimson eyes darkened as he stormed forward, kneeling beside you. He grabbed the syringe, inspecting it for a brief moment before realization hit him.

“You’re injecting yourself with poison…” Shadow’s voice was low, dangerous, barely containing his anger. His hand gripped the syringe so tightly, it cracked.

“Why…?” Sonic’s voice was soft now, barely above a whisper. He was still trying to process what he was seeing, his heart pounding in his chest. “(Y/N), why would you…?”

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Your body felt like it was shutting down, the poison taking its toll on you. You hadn’t meant for them to find out like this. Not yet. Not until you were ready.

“I… have to…” you rasped, your voice weak and broken. “For Maria…”

Sonic shook his head. “Maria? What are you talking about? This isn’t… this isn’t what Maria would want!"

He looked to Shadow for validation, in which he nodded. "She wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself like this!” Sonic continued.

You coughed, the sound harsh and painful in your throat. “I need to… kill him…”

“Kill who?!” Sonic’s voice was frantic now, desperate. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. “Who are you trying to kill?!”

Shadow already knew. He didn’t need you to explain. His jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You’re trying to get revenge,” he said, his voice cold and steady. “You’re doing this to yourself to become a weapon. Is that it?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. The look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Sonic’s gaze darted between you and Shadow, his confusion growing. “Revenge? On who? What’s going on here?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shadow growled, cutting him off. He looked down at you, his expression hard. “What matters is that she’s killing herself. She’s been poisoning herself to the point of death, and for what? Some misguided sense of revenge?”

Sonic’s face paled as the realization sank in. “No… no, (Y/N), you can’t do this. We can help you. This—this isn’t the way..”

But you weren’t listening. You couldn’t. The poison was numbing everything, your body growing colder by the second. Your vision blurred, and for a moment, you thought you saw Maria standing there in the doorway, smiling at you like she used to.

“I’m… sorry…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I… I just want to make things right…”

“You’re not making anything right,” Shadow snapped, grabbing you by the shoulders, shaking you slightly. “You’re throwing your life away! Maria wouldn’t want this—she would never want this!”

Sonic placed his hand on your head, his voice trembling with emotion. “Please, (Y/N)… don’t do this. We can fix this. We can make it better, but you have to stop…”

But the weight of their words was lost on you. All you could think about was Maria—her death, her smile, the way she had been ripped away from you so suddenly. The only thing that had kept you going was the thought of avenging her. And now, they were asking you to let that go.

“I can’t… stop…” you gasped, your body convulsing as another wave of pain hit you. “I can’t…”

Shadow’s grip on you tightened. “You don’t have a choice. You’re not dying. Not like this.”

Without another word, he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you out of the room with Sonic right behind him. His mind raced with a thousand different thoughts, but one thing was clear—he wasn’t going to lose you. Not like he had lost Maria.

Shadow carried you, his mind a whirlwind of chaos. His grip on you was firm, yet gentle, as if he feared that you might slip away entirely. Sonic jogged beside him, his face a mix of concern and urgency, but not the frantic panic he had shown earlier.

Sonic had seen enough crises in his life to know that freaking out wouldn’t help now. Instead, he tried to stay level-headed, even though seeing you in such a fragile state was like a punch to the gut. He was used to quick solutions, running toward danger and fixing things fast, but this wasn’t something he could outrun.

“Shadow, we’ve gotta take her to a hospital!” Sonic said, his voice carrying a sense of urgency but tempered with reason. “She needs real help—this is way beyond us.”

“No.” Shadow’s voice was cold, final. He didn’t even look at Sonic, his focus entirely on you. “We’re not taking her there.”

Sonic skidded to a halt, staring at him. “Are you crazy?! She’s been poisoning herself—she needs to be stabilized!”

Shadow paused, his face unreadable, but his eyes betrayed the deep uncertainty brewing beneath the surface. For the first time in a long while, Shadow didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t the physical state of your body that scared him; it was the complete surrender in your eyes, the look that reminded him of everything he had lost.

“Do you think a hospital can fix this?” Shadow’s voice was low, his gaze dark as he looked down at you. “They can treat her body, but not her mind.”

Sonic’s fists clenched. He wanted to argue, to shout that anything was better than watching you waste away like this, but the hard truth of Shadow’s words sank in. This wasn’t just about treating poison—it was about everything leading up to it. The grief, the pain, the revenge that was eating away at you from the inside.

“So what then?” Sonic asked, his voice quieter now, though still full of determination. “We can’t just sit around and do nothing.”

Shadow’s silence stretched on, and for a moment, Sonic thought that was exactly what he intended. But then, after a long, agonizing pause, Sonic’s eyes lit up with realization.

“Tails,” he said, his voice soft at first, but gaining strength as the idea formed in his mind. “We need to take her to Tails. He’ll know what to do. He’s smart, and he can help without all the questions.”

Shadow blinked, then nodded. Tails was their best bet. The fox was brilliant, and more importantly, he wouldn’t ask too many questions. At least, not the ones that mattered. It wasn’t about explaining everything right now; it was about keeping you alive and giving you a chance to heal—however long that would take.

The trip to Tails’ workshop was tense. Shadow’s usual confidence was fractured, his steps slow and deliberate, as if each one was measured to keep you safe. Sonic tried to keep pace, but his mind was racing. How had things gotten this bad without them noticing? They were supposed to be your friend—supposed to protect you.

When they arrived, Tails was in the middle of fine-tuning one of his gadgets. The moment he saw Sonic and Shadow carrying you, his eyes widened with concern. He didn’t ask any immediate questions, but the sight of you, pale and weak, sent a jolt of worry through him.

“Tails,” Sonic started, his voice unusually serious, “we need your help. She’s… been hurting herself.”

Tails’ eyes flicked to Shadow, searching for confirmation, but Shadow’s face was an unreadable mask. Without another word, Tails motioned for them to bring you inside, setting up his equipment quickly.

“I’ll need to stabilize her first,” Tails said, his voice steady but concerned. “Whatever she’s been using, it’s in her bloodstream. We need to clear it out.”

As Tails worked, Sonic paced restlessly, glancing at you every few seconds. He had questions, but they could wait. Right now, getting you stable was the priority. Shadow stood motionless, his arms crossed, but the tension in his posture was unmistakable. His eyes never left you, and for a moment, Sonic saw something unfamiliar in them—helplessness.

Tails worked quietly, efficiently, using his equipment to begin neutralizing the toxins in your body. Sonic finally spoke after what felt like hours of silence. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

Tails glanced up briefly, his brow furrowed. “Physically? She’ll recover, but… emotionally? That’s something only time can heal.”

Sonic swallowed hard. “Yeah. I figured.”

Shadow remained silent. He didn’t need to ask about recovery. He knew better than anyone that some wounds never fully healed, especially the ones tied to grief. He had carried Maria’s death with him for years, and no amount of time had ever filled the void she left behind. But unlike you, he didn’t let the death of Maria haunt him anymore. He doesn’t want to be stuck in the past anymore.

As Tails finished the procedure, you began to stir, your eyes slowly opening. You felt heavy, disoriented, but alive. The poison’s hold on you had weakened, but the hollow ache inside remained, deeper than ever.

Sonic was at your side in an instant, his expression filled with relief but tinged with worry. “Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

You blinked slowly, your mind still clouded by the haze of everything that had happened. “I… don’t know.”

Shadow moved closer, his voice firm but not unkind. “You almost killed yourself.”

Your breath hitched at his blunt words, and for a moment, the weight of what you had done crashed down on you. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you forced them back. Crying wouldn’t bring Maria back. It wouldn’t change anything.

“I had to…” you whispered, your voice shaky. “For Maria…”

Sonic’s face softened, and he knelt beside you, his usual cheerfulness tempered by the seriousness of the situation. “Look, I get it. You miss her. But this? Hurting yourself like this? It’s not right. It won’t change anything.”

You looked away, your heart aching. “I don’t know what else to do. It’s the only way I can make things right.”

Shadow’s voice cut through the silence, dark and full of the same pain you carried. “Revenge won’t bring her back.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the raw emotion in his eyes. Shadow rarely spoke about Maria, but you knew he understood the weight of loss better than anyone. He was living proof of what grief could do to someone, and in that moment, you realized he had never truly healed from it either.

“I know,” you whispered. “But I can’t stop feeling like… like I failed her.”

Sonic placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice softer now. “We’ve all lost people. We’ve all been through stuff that’s hard to move on from. But you have us. We care for you… a lot.”

Shadow didn’t speak, but his silence was telling. He knew the struggle of trying to move on when a part of you was stuck in the past. He wasn’t here to offer easy answers because there weren’t any. Maria’s death had left a scar on him that would never fully heal, and though he had learned to live with it, that part of him was gone forever.

But he was still here. And so were you.

You sat in silence for a long moment, feeling the weight of everything settle in your chest. The grief, the pain, the anger—they were all still there, but for the first time, you realized that maybe you didn’t have to face them alone.

Tails, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “You’re going to need time to heal. And we’ll be here to help you through it.”

You nodded, though you knew healing wouldn’t come easily. The path ahead was uncertain, but you weren’t alone. Sonic’s optimism, Shadow’s quiet strength, and even Tails’ support—it was enough to keep you grounded.

As the hours passed, you realized that your grief for Maria would never fully go away. It would always be a part of you, just as it was a part of Shadow. But you can’t let it consume you. You could heal, slowly, piece by piece, with the support of those around you.

You weren’t sure how long it would take, but you knew now that healing was possible. You had people who cared about you, who wouldn’t let you fall back into the same darkness.

You could learn to live again.

[dracolilhoe]

Secret Keepers Pt. 2 (Severus Snape x Y/n)

Pt. 1 -> Secret Keepers

Severus Snape x fem!pregnant!wife!professor

Main Masterlist here -> DracoLilHoe

Harry Potter Fandom Masterlist here -> HP Masterlist

Warnings - Female reader, use of Y/n, Professor reader

Words: +2.4k

Summary: Severus & Y/n have been secretly married for the last few years. Y/n has a hunch that something big is happening, but isn't sure if she should trust her instincts.

If you find mistakes please tell me! I'm not a perfect writer so please just let me know. Happy reading! :)

*Harry POV*

That was what felt like the longest detention in the history of detentions. How could Snape even be married let alone have a baby? I walk into the somewhat crowded common room spotting Hermione and Ron sitting at a table arguing about who knows what.

Hermione looks up spotting me. "Harry! How did the detention with Professor Snape go? He didn't give you a hard time, did he?" I shake my head. "You won't believe what I heard," I mutter taking the seat across from the two.

"As I was walking toward his office I heard him talking with Profesor y/l/n. Apparently, she's pregnant!" Ron's jaw drops. "Nooo!" He whines earning an eye roll from Hermione. "Ronald you never had a chance! She's too old for you, and you're too young for her!" Rons sighs, "Whatever, but why would she tell Snape of all people. They aren't exactly friends. Are they?"

"That's the thing," I lower my voice to a whisper. "Snape's the father!" "What!?" Ron shrieks his face contorting into a look of utter shock earning a few confused looks from the fellow first-year Gryffindors. Hermione raises her eyebrows the realization finally hitting her. She gives Ron a smack to the head, "Lower your voice, Ronald! They obviously want it to stay a secret!"

Ron rubs the back of his head muttering about how she didn't have to hit him that hard. "It all makes sense now," Hermione continues. "I wondered why she always wore a ring but thought it was too rude to ask about it. I can't believe I missed it!"

"I can't believe it.." Ron groans laying his head down on the desk. "Ron, Hermione's right. It's obviously something they didn't want anyone else to know. And you never really did stand a chance with her."

"I just, I don't understand. How could Professor y/l/n possibly be interested in that old git?" Ron asks. Hermione sighs, "Ron, she is obviously happy with him. She's his wife. He's probably different around her than the rest of us."

Ron gets up sighing dramaticly, "I'm going to bed. Clearly, life has nothing left for me." "Ronald grow up!" Hermione shouts up to him from the bottom of the stairs.

"If anything I wonder what you see in him," I smirk. Hermione rolls her eyes before scooping up the rest of her books in her arms. "That makes two of us."

-

"Sleep well, Ron?" Ginny questions as we take a seat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. He gives her a look as he grabs some sausages putting them on his plate.

Hermione furrows her eyebrows looking over at Ginny. "Since when did you care what happens with him?" "Since I found out about Professor y/l/n. Heard she's been up to somethin. Just wonderin' how he's taking it."

"Shut your trap, Ginny!" Ron grumbles tossing a piece of sausage at her.

"Wait, how do you know about that?" I ask. She shrugs, "It's the talk of the school! It's been spreading like wildfire. I heard from some first-years about it this morning."

The three of us share a look before turning our gaze to Ginny. "Does... does everybody know?" Hermione bites her lip nervously. "At this point, I would assume so."

"Nice talking to ya Ginny. Will see you later." I say as Hermione and I stand up. Ron looks up at us confused. "Where are you guys going?" "Ronald get up!" "But we just started breakfast!"

"You won't get to finish it if Snape finds out who started this in the first place!" I hiss. "But it was you! I don't have any part in this!" Hermione rolls her eyes and grabs Ron's arm pulling him up. "Oi!"

Ginny's eyes widen. "You started it?" "Look Ginny we would appreciate it if you kept this quiet," I mutter. She nods. "Good luck." "What about my food?" Hermione grabs a piece of toast shoving it into Ron's mouth. "Come on lets go!"

The three of us quickly run back up to the common room. "Harry! What the hell mate?" Ron's voice is muffled as he finishes the last of his toast.  

"Hermione and I didn't even know about anything until you said something." He protests. "Ronald hush. If you didn't shout last night then nobody would have been paying attention in the first place!!"

He pauses the realization hitting him. "Oh... yeah. Sorry." He rubs the back of his neck nervously. "If anything it's your fault." I sigh. "Hermione putting the blame onto anyone isn't going to help. The bottom line is it was all three of us. Let's hope they didn't find out yet."

*Y/n POV*

My eyes flutter open as I glance over at the clock on my bedside table. I begrudgingly sit up just to be pulled down by a strong arm wrapped around my waist. "Severus," I murmur trying to loosen his strong grip around me.

He groans burying his face into my neck leaving light kisses. "Sev, we need to get up." He sighs, "Must you be so dreary?" I scoff. "Me? Dreary?"

He lets out a huff reluctantly moving away from my neck to rest his head against his pillow.

"I'm only stating you are quite boring." He teases. "I'm not boring!" I protest. "As much as I would love to stay in bed with you and do nothing all day, we have classes to teach."

He wraps his arm around me again and pulls me toward him. Causing me to let out a soft gasp. He places a gentle kiss to my lips as his fingers rub small circles on my stomach.

I smile to myself as I turn to look at the loving look plastered across my husband's face. He isn't the type of man to share his emotions. But the look in his eyes says all it needs to.

-

"Severus, I told you I'm fine." I chuckle as I walk in between him and Minerva. "No, you are not 'fine'." He retorts. "You can not skip breakfast! We have discussed this multiple times, love." "And I have told you time and time again that I'm not hungry."

"Y/n, dear, he's right. It would be best if you ate something. If not for you then for the baby." Minnie places a comforting hand on my shoulder. I know they are right. Of course, they are right. "I know I should but I just haven't been that hungry lately."

Severus lets out an audible sigh sending me a stern glare. We continue our walk down the corridor a few students giving us odd looks as we pass. "Um, anyone know what that was about?" I question glancing between the two.

They shake their heads just as confused as I am. I'm used to seeing Sev get looks from the students but this was different. Instead of fear, it was more like... curiosity? And possibly bewilderment? And it was directed toward me which is odd.

"Something's not right," I mutter as Minerva nods in agreement. We make our way into the Great Hall taking our seats. Filius sits between Minerva and Severus, and I am on his other side. I feel Sevs hand reach under the table to rest on my upper thigh.

"Good Morning Severus!" Filius says taking the napkin from his lap and wiping his lips. He gives him a polite nod in return as he brings a cup of coffee to his lips. "Oh, and I just heard the good news. Congratulations on the baby!"

Severus nearly choked on the coffee he was drinking. "I beg your pardon?" He questions as a quiet mumble of a curse escapes his lips. I turn to look at the charms professor in bewilderment. How does he know?

I turn my gaze to Severus who already has his eyes on me. "Did you tell him?" I question. He shakes his head. "I thought it was you." He admits as he turns to look back at the charms professor.

"Filius, how exactly do you know that?" He turns to look at me confusion etched across his features. "I heard some students discussing it this morning. I didn't know the students were aware of your relationship."

"They shouldn't be." Severus mumbles clenching his jaw.

"Minnie you haven't told anyone right?" She gives me a sweet smile and shakes her head. "That is not my information to share." "Then... who could it have been?" I question as she shrugs. "I think I might have an idea." Severus gets up from his seat and quickly heads toward the corridors outside the Great Hall.

I sigh, "Minnie this might take a bit. I might not make it back in time for the first classes. Could you watch them for me?" "Of course dear. You should probably settle this. Who knows what rumors have started." I give her a smile as I exit the Great Hall after Severus.

"Severus!" I call out as I chase after my husband. He stops spinning around to face me. "Yes?" "How could you possibly know who did this?" I now stand before him looking up into his dark onyx eyes.

"It was Potter." I scoff at his words crossing my arms. "How could it possibly be Potter?" He grabs my hand, his fingers interlacing with mine, dragging me to his classroom.  

Once we enter his classroom he locks the door. "It's best if we talk here. We don't need any unwanted attention." He walks over to sit at his desk. I follow sitting across from him. "Alright now how in fucks sake could it possibly be Potter?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Darling, you told me yesterday night. Potter was supposed to have a detention yesterday night. He must have been eavesdropping. It is the only possible explanation!"

"There are plenty of explanations as to why it isn't Potter!" He raises an eyebrow, "Well, go on." I pause mid-sentence. "Well, I-" He lets out a small hum of satisfaction. "Well, I didn't even see him when I was leaving!" I blurt out crossing my arms.

"He was most likely hiding." Shit. He has a point. "Okay fine! Maybe it was Potter! But that doesn't explain how the whole bloody school knows by now! I haven't even seen him at all this morning."

"Hmm, I wonder why." He mutters sarcastically. "Oh, hush! If it is Potter then Weasley and Granger probably have something to do with it too." He nods in agreement. "Seeing as we have no idea where they are we should probably ask Minnie what their schedules are."

"She's supposed to cover my first class for a bit. I can ask her then." I steal a quick glance at the clock. "Speaking of classes, they start soon." I stand up walking around his desk to give him a quick kiss. "I love you. I'll see you in a bit."

I start to turn away but he tugs me back. He pulls me down his lips returning to mine. "Love you more, darling." I smile against his lips. "Oh and what should we say if the students ask us anything?"

I pause in thought for a moment. "I don't see any point in hiding it anymore. They already know." His lip forms a line indicating his uncertainty. "Are you sure you want that? Your reputation could be ruined because of me and-"

I place my finger over his lips shutting him up. "I don't care what they think. If they don't like me much anymore that's okay. I have all I need right here." He smiles at my remarks kissing my forehead, "How did I get so lucky?" He mumbles. I sigh cheerfully. "I do really need to go now. I love you. I'll see you in a bit."

*Harry POV*

"Oh, we are so screwed." Ron groans. "Professor McGonagall just told us Snape wants to see us, Ron. Of course, we are screwed!!" I mutter as the three of us make our way down the stairs to the dungeons. "We are so lucky we didn't have potions today."

"No kidding." The three of us stop outside the door to his classroom. "How much trouble do you think we are in?" Hermiones whispers. "Well, it's also Professor Y/l/n. So hopefully not too much." Ron answers nervously. I hesitantly reach out my hand and knock.

*Y/n POV*

"Don't be too hard on them!" He scoffs rolling his eyes. "They exposed us. They are lucky I don't give them detention for the rest of the year." "First of all do not roll your eyes at me! I'm your wife. Not a student. Second, we don't know their side of the story. So yes Severus, do not be an arse."

He opens his mouth to retaliate but stops. "Sorry." He murmurs. I avoid his gaze, "I'm sorry too. You are not an arse." Our heads both turn to the door at the sound of a knock. "Come in"

The three of them walk in their eyes avoiding Snapes and focusing on me. "Can one of you explain why the whole school is aware of our relationship?" Snape questions glaring at the trio. The three of them look at me as if asking me to help them out.

"Well go on. He asked a question." Harry takes a breath before speaking. "I heard the two of you talking last night and I told Ron and Hermione." Snape sighs pinching the bridge of his nose. "That doesn't explain how the school knows."

"Well, a group of first years heard us talking out it last night, in the common room," Hermione looks over at me. "We weren't going to tell anyone. But they heard us. It was an accident we swear!"

"I don't think there is anything we can do about it at this point," I say trying toward my husband. "Weeks denention. For the three of you." Ron's mouth falls open a gasp of astonishment leaving his lips. "Make. That. Two." Snape growls. The two turn to give Ron a glare. "Now go before I change my mind." The three scramble out the door.

"They are something else." "Tell me about it." I turn to look at Severus. "You going to actually get some sleep tonight?" "I have paperwork to finish, dear." I smile kissing his forehead. "Just come to bed at a decent time. I love you."

"Goodnight, my love. I love you too."

Pt. 1 -> Secret Keepers

____________

OMG!! First off TY so much for my first request!! <3

Second, I'm sorry this took so long to complete I've been a bit busy!!

____________

REQUESTED BY: @thatlittlefangirl

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I wasn't able to tag everyone that read Pt.1 there was 200+ ppl🥲🙏

[bella-baby22]

10 Things I Hate About You

Jason "Jay" Todd

What if Dick payed Roy to take Jason out and keep him happy enough that he would be more willing to come around to the family. He hacked in and got Roy into Jay's classes at Gotham U and his usual schedule so that they would start running into each other more. What if he told Roy not to mention anything about them ever being friends because that would just piss of Jason more so Roy agrees he needs the money anyway and what could go wrong from taking Dick's brother out for a while really?

So Roy joins Jason's classes, Creative Writing, Literary History, and Comp. Enough that they were together often but not enough that it was odd. He sat next to him in class and started conversations started taking him to coffee for study dates and to get help with some of his work.

He took him out to dinner and to the museum. He took him to the farmers market and went to volunteer at youth shelters to help kids with homework and the like.

When Jason decides to bring Roy to one of the Wayne Charity Galas, Roy is hesitant but agrees with a smile before he kisses Jason goodbye and texts Dick that they need to talk. He wants to end the arrangement. He doesn't know how to tell his friend that he fell for his little brother but he just knows that he can't continue with this relationship if he's getting paid he says he'll give the money back at the Gala.

Fast forward to the night of the gala and Dick pulls Roy into the hall to talk away from the party.

Dick: I don't understand you did what I paid you to do you made Jason happy you brought him home he came to a Gala of his own volition! you earned this

Roy: No listen I can't do it just take the money please I don't want it...

Jason looking for his brother and date stops dead in his tracks: You paid him to date me?...

Roy: Jason wait you don't unders-

Jason: Save it. I'm leaving lose my number.

Roy shoots Dick one last panicked look: Jaybird please I can explain.

Dick watches with pale eyes as Roy chases after Jason who has obviously started crying as he storms out of the gala.

Roy: Jaybird, baby please just listen to me for one second!

Jason turns on him with a snarl: You don't get to call me that anymore! I don't want to listen to a word you fucking say! I should have known! I'm so stupid to think anyone could ever care about me like you did! Just stay away from me.

Roy is left standing like an idiot as Jason drives off and he wonders how he's going to face Jason in class after this...

In class the next week their professor asks if any would would like to share their rendition of the Shakespeare sonnet they were assigned and a few people shift uncomfortably before Jason raises his hand.

Roy watches with red eyes as Jason heads up to the podium with his sonnet.

Jason: I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare; I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme.

Roy takes a shaky breath as Jason swallows back his tears to continue.

Jason: I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it that you're not around. And the fact you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little but, not at all.

Jason's voice cracks on the last line before he grabs his stuff and storms out of the room and Roy stares at the tears on his desk as the door slams behind Jason.

Later when Jason is heading towards his car he opens the door to find a book lying on his seat and picks it up as his heart stops.

A first Edition Pride & Prejudice.

Roy: It's not nearly enough to show how sorry I am but I hope its a good start?

Jason spins around to stare and the man who broke his heart not even a week ago.

Jason: I don't know I think some grovelling would be nice...

Roy: Jaybird I'm so sorry and I will do absolutely everything in my power to be better every day if you could find it in your heart to let me try...

Jason: Fine. But I don't know how you're going to make things up to me if you mess up again.

Roy: There are a few more first additions I can get my hands on if I need to?

Jason huffs a laugh before pulling the man into a firm kiss; he liked the sound of that.

[starlightsuffered]

Professor Chalamet

Warnings - Teacher and student (duh), oral (male and female receiving), secret relationship, spanking, name calling, needing to be quiet. Unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of masturbation, dirty talk

“That is the meaning behind the character of Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, you are dismissed,” Professor Chalamet said.

“Except for you Y/N,” he called to me. I gulped. Was today finally the day that he picked up on the not so subtle hints I’d been dropping?

Drama 101 had been interesting since the first morning I walked in, and saw Professor Chalamet. He was gorgeous. Piercing hazel eyes, sharp cheekbones, decadent curly hair. I was in heaven. I felt very happy that I’d arrived early out of anxiety. The two of us had, had a very nice conversation. Since then I’d made the very pornoesque decision, to get his attention.

He was just so damn stoic and calm. It seemed like nothing phased him. He never reacted. The semester was almost over, and I had no idea if I’d seen him again. I had to make a bold move. Our final was turning in a script for a short film. Our rough drafts had been due last week. I’d handed him “The Professor’s Secret.” A story about a Professor fucking his student. I’d even been so courageous as to name the Professor, Professor Chardonnay.

I was shaking with anticipation as I approached his desk. Students filed out of the classroom, giving me pitying looks. They didn’t understand this was all I wanted. I shivered as I remembered the door locked itself when you went out.

“Y/n,” Professor Chalamet called my attention back to him. I walked slowly to his desk. I made sure to swish my hips slightly. I was wearing a tiny, pink, skater skirt, and a white button down. I had dressed up just for him, and I desperately wanted him to know it.

“What is this?” He asked calmly, holding up my script.

“My rough draft sir,” I said politely. He ran a hand over his face, and when I looked at him again, I was shocked. The anger on his face was real and cold. Usually, he was all smiles and gentle words. This was different.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” He asked menacingly. This was going wrong, completely and utterly wrong. He was truly angry. What would he do? Would he tell the school board? Would I get kicked out? Fuck, why did I let my pussy do all the thinking? Now there’s going to be a Fox News segment about me.

“Can you even comprehend how many times I’ve read this? How I’ve poured over it? I’ve cum so many times from this alone, it is haunting me,” he explained desperately. My world was spinning at hearing him talk like this. Thinking of him cumming to just my writing was mesmerizing. Imagine what I could do to him with my real self.

“What are you saying Professor?” I asked coyly as I walked closer to him slowly.

“Do you know how many papers I’ve neglected, to read this again and again?” He growled.

“Maybe you should punish me,” I suggested.

He looked at me for a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose with a pained look.

“I’ve tried my damndest this semester to not give into carnal pleasures. My resistance is reaching it breaking point.”

“What if I want it to break?” I asked. I slowly, slowly, lowered myself to my knees in from of him. “What if I want to help it break.”

“Holy Hell,” he gasped. “You can’t tell anyone about this, not anyone you understand? Not a friend, not a sister or brother.”

“Oh stop,” I said squeezing his package. He shakily reached out to grab his desk.

“I want this as much as you do, why would I ruin the fun?”

He nodded, and unzippered his pants for me. My eyes bulged at his impressive length, and my mouth was watering. I took him in as far as I could go. I moaned as I felt his hand pulling on my hair. I sucked at him, moving up and down his cock. My spit was dripping down my chin, and onto the floor, but I wanted so badly to be good for him.

“Off,” he commanded, and I whined as he removed his cock from me.

I stood up and he kissed me roughly, hands massaging my breasts that were still clothed. One of his hands went down to grab handfuls of my ass.

“Do you wear those slutty little outfits for me everyday?” He asked, after he’d pulled away

“Yes, for you, all for you.”

“So, you’re just fine with distracting your Professor, while he’s trying to make a living,” he growled.

“Did it work?” I asked.

“You little minx,” he pushed me away from him. He cleared a section of him desk, and pushed me down on it. He pushed up my skirt, and pulled down my thong. He hissed as he saw the wet patch he’d made me create.

“I’m getting my ruler, you stay there,” he demanded. I did as I was told, lightly rubbing my thighs together for some sort of friction.

I heard the slap of the ruler on his hand as he approached me. I shivered with anticipation.

“You deserve punishment. Only bad girls rile up their professors in class, only bad girls write such filthy scripts.”

A smack came down on my ass and I stifled a cry. He instantly was massaging the red skin.

“Were you worried I wasn’t noticing the way you whored yourself out to me every class?”

Smack! Another blow had landed on my ass. I was loving the mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Please Professor, may I have another?” I asked desperately.

“No, only good students get what they want,” he replied and there was no slap from the ruler. However, in seconds I was struggling not to scream out. He had gone under me, spread my legs, and was now devouring my heat with an expert tongue. I let out a mewl of pleasure and he stopped.

“Don’t make a sound, slut, then everyone will know our secret.”

“Yes, Professor Chalamet,” I choked out. He continued to bless me with his tongue. I was nearing my orgasm. He stopped for a moment, and bit the skin of my inner thigh before returning to his task. I’m seconds I was coming undone, thighs clamping around his head with the effort not to scream.

He walked around so he was in front of me. My slick coated his face, and he wore it like a badge of honor. I was panting, sweat dripping down my temples.

“Like that did you?” He asked with a smirk.

“A+,” I gasped. He chuckled, moving so he was behind me again.

“I hope that was enough to get you ready for me,” he said.

“More than enough, please fill me,” I begged. He pressed his tip to my entrance, and slowly pushed in. I relished how long it took him to bottom out inside me.

“Do you know how long I’ve imagined this,” he asked as he began to snap his hips forward. I couldn’t form the words to answer. My eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

“How many times I’ve wanted to cancel class and just have you in every way possible?”

I groaned, nails making marks in his wooden desk. I pressed my ass back to meet his thrusts and he let out a moan of approval.

“I know you thought the same of me. The way you’d eye fuck me from across the room was almost too much to handle. Did you go back to your dorm after and touch yourself? Did you play with your pretty pussy to the thought of me y/n?”

“Yes,” it took all I had not to scream.

“I have an alternate ending for your script,” he told me as he reached around to play with my clit. I bit down hard on my hand, it was the only way to keep silent. The only things to hear in the room was the wet sounds of us and his low, whispered, filthy words.

“What?“ I managed to asked.

“I think the Professor should fuck his naughty student, that part can stay. But I think he should fill her everyday, every free period. She should be bursting with him. She would walk around campus so full of him that it’s leaking down her thighs.”

“Fuck,” I said against my hand. I knew I would leave deep teeth marks there.

“Wouldn’t it be delicious if she got pregnant? She wouldn’t be able to tell anyone whose cum she was carrying around. No one would know who bred her cunt so well that she was completely full. She would have to keep it undercover as he filled her over and over.”

“I can’t,” I gasped, and I was tumbling into a orgasm filled with shining stars and white hot pleasure. I couldn’t contain myself and Professor Chalamet had to clap his hand over my mouth, yet he continued to rub circles on my pulsating clit

“You want my cum? Im going to fill you,” he moaned as I continued to squeeze around him. He spilled into me, rope after rope of cum pumping into me.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath as he pulled out. I felt some of him spill out of me onto the floor.

“You are to have tutoring session with me every day of the school week, do I make myself clear?” He demanded.

“Yes Professor Chalamet,” I said with giddy joy.

“Call me Timothée.”

[dark-fics-4-you]

In crocodile tears, would coryo pretend to be some hero or something when he gets reader some medical help or like calls for help for her because I know reader would have to go get some medical help for her injuries, like would he say he found her like that and just stays by her side and quietly whisper to her that he can and will get away with his crime and will do much worse to keep his goodboy™️ image up

Or would he just leave her there to let her think about what he said and what he's done and like kinda talks to someone else about his victory and then they walk back towards reader and find her all fucked out and traumatized and coryo just acts all surprised and asks the other person to go get help while he 'takes care' of her before like the authorities or like the ambulance and tells her to stay silent and to just play along so that he could find some way to fix his mess

And if he does find some way to frame someone else for what he did to reader, would reader's parents thank him over and over again and like pressure reader to invite him over or something (y'know just so that coryo can see how similarly they grew up or something, also how furious would he be if he found out that maybe reader is actually just 'better' than him)

Sorry this was kinda long and scrambled up but I've been thinking about crocodile tears all day and I'm geeking out over your fics omg 😭

Please don’t apologize for how long it is, I loooove detailed asks <333

Crocodile Tears drabble

cw: noncon oral m!recieving, noncon kissing, gaslighting, manipulation, physical abuse

I think Coriolanus would 100% try to play himself off as the hero. This is the same night that his mentee won the Hunger Games. Everyone is already celebrating him, and then he reports that he not only found Reader, but that he helped ward off her attacker??? He would eat that attention right the fuck up.

Of course before this happened he would set the record straight with you, maybe he’d do it while he was pushing his cock deep into the back of your throat. “You’re not going to- fuck- you’re not going to tell anyone that this happened, do you understand?”

You looked up at him through teary eyes as his hand wrapped around your throat, urging you to slide your lips up and down his length faster. He couldn’t contain his groans as he watched the saliva drip down the corners of your mouth as you sloppily took all of his cock.

His voice was breathy, and his eyes were fixed on watching you. A far cry from the classmate he had admired many times before tonight, now you looked a mess, lips puffy and eyes red and tear filled. Coriolanus loved how pathetic you looked now. He wondered if you would ever dare to talk back to him again.

“If you ever tell anyone about tonight or about what happened during the Games, I swear to god Y/N, I will fuck you so hard that you’ll be begging me to treat you as nice as I did tonight,” he sneered at you and your stomach turned at his threat.

For a moment, Coriolanus really wanted to cum all over your face. He imagined forcing you to leave the building with his sticky seed dripping down your face and tits, he wanted you to feel humiliated as you walked past all of your classmates.

He knew that the rumors would spread like wildfire, your reputation would be ruined. On top of your friends either witnessing it firsthand, all of your professors would find out no doubt.

However, much more appealing was the idea of Coriolanus coming to your aid, of him saving you from an unknown attacker. If the entire Academy already thought he was a victor, why stop now?

After he came down your throat and forced you to swallow it all, you were surprised when he hurriedly pulled your clothes back on to your limp body, before dressing himself as well.

You were still too dazed to protest when he pulled you up, wrapping an arm around your waist and walking towards the party.

You felt so out of it, and your memory after leaving the control room was spotty, but you remembered seeing concerned classmates and hearing Coriolanus explain that he had rescued you from an attacker and that you needed medical attention.

You also didn’t miss all of your classmates thank Coryo for saving you.

Don’t think for a second that he would leave your side, opting to ride in the ambulance with you, identifying himself as “Y/N’s boyfriend,” and holding your hand the entire way. The EMT’s thought he was whispering words of encouragement and that your panicked look was only due to your injuries and the trauma from the night, but it was actually because of the threats he was calmly hissing into your ear.

“Remember, you didn’t recognize the guy and you didn’t get a good look at him,” he raised an eyebrow and leered over you, “right?”

You nodded, trying not to attract any attention.

“And you don’t even want to press charges, right?” He purred in your ear, hand snaking to the back of your neck and clamping down. You tensed when you felt him grip the back of you neck harder, trying to get a small reaction from you that only he would notice. “Better to just try to move past all of this.”

When you finally arrived at the hospital and got wheeled to a room, you were greeted by your parents immediately, who tearfully attempted to talk with you.

You had only just opened your mouth to speak when Coriolanus interrupted you, “I’m sorry Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N, she’s not in any condition to be talking right now.”

“And just who the hell are you?” Your father demanded of the unfamiliar blond.

“I’m Coriolanus Snow, I saved your daughter tonight,” his head was held high and when he started recounting his twisted version of the events that had occurred tonight, only you could have spotted the devilish gleam in his eyes. “She’s lucky I got there when I did,” he concluded, “I just can’t imagine what might have happened to my Y/N…”

“Wait, what do you mean by ‘my Y/N?’” Your mother asked, looking up at Coriolanus incredulously.

“Well, I wish I was telling you under better circumstances, but,” he cleared his throat, pretending to be embarrassed, “Y/N and I have been dating since the day of our tribute assignments.”

When your parents immediately changed their tone and began heaping thanks and praises onto ‘your boyfriend,’ the man who had just raped you so brutally, he had sent you to the hospital, you felt like you could be sick, and the nausea swirling in your stomach had you reaching for the trash can by your bed and hurling the remains of what was left in your stomach into the bucket.

Coriolanus dotted on you, rubbing your back and whispering words of encouragement loud enough that your family could hear. His faux concern for you was so sickening, you would have thrown up again if you had anything left in your system.

You were in the hospital for 2 excruciating days, and several of your classmates came to visit, all of them bringing flowers or candy or other gifts, but you never got a moment alone with them because Coriolanus stayed by your side the entire time.

When your nosey peers asked you or Coriolanus to recount what had happened, Coriolanus would shut them down, insisting that neither of you wanted to talk about it for your sake.

And while it was true that you weren’t anywhere near being able to talk about what happened that night, that didn’t mean that you wanted him literally at your bedside and never leaving you alone with anyone, not even your family.

If they asked for time alone with you, his grip on your hand would tighten and you knew you had no choice but to tell them that you wanted him to stay in your room, “Mother, I- I just want him here right now, I would feel too anxious if he left.”

They always obliged, never forgetting to thank Coriolanus any chance they got, and by the time you were discharged and you thought you were finally going to have a moment alone to breathe, you were feeling more than ready for some space away from the horrible man.

However, to your horror, you realized that your family had taken what you had said in the hospital after being coerced by Coriolanus too literally.

When he followed you to the car, you thought he was just saying goodbye until he climbed into the backseat with you and you gawked at him before looking over at your parents.

“Oh yeah, we forgot to mention,” your mother warmly replied, “Coriolanus offered to come to our apartment for a few days to help take care of you. We figured it would be good, considering how much he helps your anxiety.”

You felt your stomach drop, a pit of anger and disappointment blossomed in your gut and it took everything in you to force yourself to smile and thank your parents.

Coriolanus’ hand squeezed yours and you tried your best not to cry.

After you arrived at the apartment, Coriolanus helped you out of the car, making you lean on him for support as he helped you to the entrance to the building.

The blond was taken aback by the street you lived on. It was just a couple blocks away from his, and he had walked past these apartments many times, completely unaware that you lived here. It was a modest apartment building, honestly not much better than the one Coriolanus lived in.

But how could this be? Wasn’t your family wealthy at least? As he made his way up the stairs, supporting your weight as you leaned against him with his arm firm around your waist, he couldn’t help but compare all of the similarities to his own apartment.

Hell, if anything your apartment may have been a tad smaller than the Snow’s, although yours was much tidier.

It was around dinnertime when you had arrived and you had just wanted to take a nap before eating, but instead you were treated to some excruciating alone time with Coriolanus, during which he lay in your bed next to you, holding your stiff, nervous body close to him and running his hands over the goosebumps that decorated your skin. Your breath caught every time he paused over one of the bruises that he had left on you, and you winced when he would press the pads of his fingers onto them, silently threatening you.

It felt surreal laying in your bedroom, the place that was supposed to be your safe space, with Coriolanus, knowing that he could overpower you and fuck you at any moment if he wanted. And that fear was exactly why you didn’t try to get away.

You winced when his soft lips came to your bruised neck and he kissed and sucked at the tender skin. The way he had one of your hands pinned, fingers digging in to your sore wrist, reminded you of the first night he assaulted you and you tried to blink away the tears forming in your eyes as panic rose in your chest.

“Relax, Y/N,” Coriolanus whispered against your throat between sloppily nipping at your skin. “I’m not going to do anything to you tonight, baby. Gonna wait till you’re all healed up so you can feel every fucking inch of my cock dragging along your walls.”

You let out a quiet sound at his words, but it was hard to tell if it was a sob or a moan and Coriolanus felt his cock throbbing against the material of his pants.

“Although,” he thought aloud, looking down on you and admiring your pretty, plump lips, which were glistening, wet with a mix of saliva and your tears, “maybe I should give you a reminder of what I could do to you if you decided to feel brave and blab about that night, hm?”

You fearfully shook your head and you were about to protest when your mother knocked on your door, letting you know that dinner was ready.

You looked to Coriolanus and he nodded with annoyance after a few moments of hesitation, allowing you to respond, “Okay! Thank you, we’ll be there in a minute.”

He sighed in frustration but got up and began pulling his shirt back on before he glanced over at your teary eyes and messy hair.

“Clean yourself up in the bathroom, you look pathetic,” he ordered and you ran some cold water on your face to try to make the puffiness go down.

When he was satisfied with your appearance, you dressed, trying to swallow your discomfort before you left the room, but when you sat down at the table with your parents for dinner, you still couldn’t believe how it felt to be eating family dinner with that man.

As Coriolanus regaled your parents with stories from the Academy and lies about how you had started dating, you realized that tears had begun falling past your waterline again.

And no one at the table noticed or said anything about it.

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Hello there glad to see you have your blog back may I ask for an reaction of the HLC +professors with an MC who has their right side of their face burned and their right arm gone from the battle of the final resptory (btw fig is alive the f.f.f must stay alive aka Father. Figure. Fig)

A/N: I made MC's situation part of the canon game ending, with the exception of Fig. F.F.F.F!(Father Figure Fig Forever!) Cut because long

HLC REACT TO MC BEING PERMANENTLY DISFIGURED

WARNING: physical and mental trauma, end game spoilers

The final battle with Ranrok had left MC with more than just emotional scars. The whole right side of their face was marred and their right eyes was entirely blackened. Jagged bright red scars ran across MC's chest from their shoulder to their abdomen and their right arm was completely gone. Due to the nature of the dark magic that damaged MC's body, these scars would never heal even with magic.

MC had been in the hospital wing for several days, Head Nurse Blainey taking care of them personally. MC would drift in and out of consciousness, in and out of pain, and in and out of bouts of screaming. They would see that dragon every time they closed their eyes. The last thing they remember was a grand bright light in their last ditch effort to contain the dark magic after Ranrok fell. They didn't know that they were successful and everything is all right. Hogwarts is safe. Their friends are safe.

After three days of intensive healing, MC finally started coming around. They could awake long enough to have short conversations. Nurse Blainey notified the staff immediately and word eventually spread to the students that MC was alive.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He doesn't give a rat's ass if the hospital wing is off limits at the moment. Threaten him with points taken away, detention or even expulsion, he is going to see MC. He sprints to their bed and goes to hold their hand. But it isn't there. He's shaken and kneel's next to them before he falls down.

"You're alright...you're alive." He was at a loss for words. The last time he had conversed with MC, he had been thanking them for not sending him to Azkaban. They were one of the few friends he had left, and here they were, lying in the hospital wing with half their body blown off. He wasn't sure what to do, and that bothered him.

OMINIS GAUNT: He doesn't quite go running to MC. He's still on the fence about them. He does eventually visit them to at least wish them well. He doesn't fully understand what happened to them. They never extensively explained the whole ancient magic thing to him. As far as most anyone at the school knows, there was a goblin attack and it took half the professors and MC to fight them off.

ANNE SALLOW: She doesn't hear about MC personally. Just that there was a serious incident at Hogwarts through the Daily Prophet. She was far away from Hogwarts valley. Trying to find peace away from Feldcroft.

IMELDA REYES: She sits casually next to MC and looks them over, they're still covered in bandages. "Those goblins really did a number on you." She notices their missing arm. "I wouldn't worry about that too much. There are quite a few amputee quidditch players. You'll have to learn how to rebalance, though. I can teach you."

NATSAI ONAI: She brings them a bottle of butterbeer. She figured it would be a nice change of pace from just water. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, MC." MC told her not to apologize. They wouldn't want to risk this happening to her. She'd already taken the torture curse for them.

GARRETH WEASLEY: He brings some sweets as a get well present. He's horrified by what's happened to them. He's never heard of injuries so extensive that magic couldn't heal. It must have been some intense dark magic. The next time he's in the library, he's looking up potions that could regrow limbs.

LEANDER PREWETT: He visits along with Lucan, he was nervous to see them by himself. Wasn't sure what he'd say. They weren't exactly close, but he was worried when he heard about what happened to them. Even brought them some flowers he picked out on the flying lawn. He hopes they're able to attend the final feast at the end of the year.

AMIT THAKKAR: He tries to comfort MC by telling them that they won't have to worry about missing notes for astronomy. They're welcome to all of his. Not much he can do about their O.W.L's though. They are getting an extension on the exams, right? MC really can't be expected to go through all of this and then immediately take exams.

EVERETT CLOPTON: He doesn't see them until they're out of the hospital wing. When he does, he nearly jumps out of his skin. They look awful! Sorry. That came out before he could stop it. He'll bombard them with questions over what happened to them. All he's been hearing are rumors and they range from MC fighting an entire goblin army single-handedly to giant flobberworms causing earthquakes under Hogwarts.

POPPY SWEETING: She's been handling all the beasts with Deek while MC has been away. When she goes to see them, she holds their good hand and tells them she's glad they're alright. If there's anything she can do for them, let her know.

LUCAN BRATTLBY: For what it's worth, he thinks battle scars are brilliant. Anyone looking at them will know that they've seen some shit and not to mess with them. He does hope they're left-handed though, relearning how to use your wand with your non-dominant hand is rough. It's like starting over.

~

ELEAZAR FIG: He's in the hospital wing as well, in the bed across from MC. His injuries weren't as extensive, but he would likely need to use a cane for the rest of his life. He took a rather nasty fall when the cliff crumbled. He's the first person after nurse Blainey to know that MC was going to be all right. As soon as he's able, he's in a chair next to their bed to greet them when they are fully cognitive again. He tells them that they did it. Ranrok is gone. The magic was resealed. They saved the world.

No matter what happens next for MC, he promises to be there for them through it. Even the powers of dark magic couldn't take him away from them.

MATILDA WEASLEY: She has a very long talk with Eleazar before MC is conscious. She's more than a little upset about all of this being kept from her until it was almost too late to stop Ranrok. She doesn't blame MC in the slightest, but gives Eleazar a verbal reckoning.

When MC awakens, she expresses her gratitude. Their bravery would make Godric himself proud. In light of their circumstances, they will receive an extension on their O.W.L's to give them time to heal and properly study for them, without the looming threat of the end of the world.

CHIYO KOGAWA: She wasn't in the cave, but stayed up in the school to make sure no goblins got close up top. She also praises them for their bravery. She's had more than her fair share of fights with dark wizards in the past. Going up against them is no easy feat for adults, let alone those still in school.

AESOP SHARP: He sees the scars. He sees MC's missing arm. It pains him to see this happen to them. Such life-changing injuries and memories. He knows exactly what they're going through. He can help them work through it, and hopefully avoid some of the mistakes he's made.

ABRAHAM RONEN: It breaks his heart to see MC like this. They were filled with so much life, now they can barely crack a smile without wincing in pain. He will do his damnedest to make sure they are still treated fairly by the staff and students. Anyone that so much as looks at MC wrong will know just how mean he can be.

MIRABEL GARLICK: She brings a bouncing bulb. The small plant starter is extremely entertaining when one is bored stuck in the hospital. Trust her on this. She wants MC to have something to play with while they have nothing to do. She tries not to look at the injuries. She doesn't want to make them uncomfortable by thinking she's staring.

MUDIWA ONAI: Not to be ironic, but she wishes she had seen this coming. Ranrok, the repository, the goblins, any of it. She wishes she could have warned MC. She was so distracted by her concern for her daughter and conforming to her new environment, she was blindsided by the future. She is so terribly sorry.

BAI HOWIN: She wants MC to know that losing a limb is not as much of a detriment in the wizarding world as it is in the Muggle world. She knows many a colleague that have had more than one limb ripped off or bitten off and are still perfectly capable members of society. They shouldn't worry too much.

DINAH HECAT: Like Sharp, she's all too aware of what MC is going through. The irreversible damage dark magic can take on one's mind and body can take their toll on even the strongest witch or wizard. MC needs support right away to avoid potential self-destruction.

CUTHBERT BINNS: He floats on by to wish MC good health. Although, should the worst have happened, the Hogwarts ghosts are always willing to welcome another into their ranks.

SATYAVATI SHAH: What they did was foolish. Defending Hogwarts should have been left to the staff and MC should have never been put in the position they were in. To be so scarred by life so young. It's tragic. She hopes this doesn't stop them from continuing their education to give themselves a strong foundation for a good life.

PHINEAS NIGELLUS BLACK: The paperwork to the ministry over this situation has been an absolute nightmare. The goblins getting past Hogwarts charms by going underneath it, half of his staff having to defend the place, and one of his students being horrifically injured made for a long report. He only complains behind closed doors. Even he's not such a horrible person to tell MC off while they're in the hospital.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

While I absolutely adore all the "Viktor acquires Jayce's last name for accidental/practical/non-romantic reasons" ideas, I think Viktor would have had to solve his last name problem for paperwork reasons as a student at the Academy, and if he didn't have a last name, the simplest option would be to steal one.

He figures out within three days of starting at the Academy that he needs a family name.

Introducing himself as "just Viktor" gets him marked out as from the undercity immediately, if missing one of a hundred other social cues hasn't already. "Don't you know no one knows whose kids are whose down there?" he hears someone scoff from down the hall, after he's extracted himself from a conversation that was going nowhere good.

Family, like most things in the undercity, is assembled from spare parts more often than not. Family is who will have your back if someone is giving you shit; who will offer you half of something that is already not enough. His parents by blood are both alive and still live together, but no one knows them as anything other than Iveta and Hal.

But topsiders care about things like bloodlines and inheritance, and they all have family names. Not just the rich kids whose family names are carved into buildings, but the children of merchants and craftspeople and workers.

So, he needs to acquire one.

He can't just make one up. What if he picks something that sounds obviously fake to their ears? Or worse, the name of a real, well-known family that he then has to explain his connection to? No, it has to be a real name, just not one that anyone would care about.

He goes to the cemetery. Not the fancy one with the high wrought-iron gates and elaborate masoleums, but a humble one, in a part of the city filled with the modest homes of tradespeople. He searches until he finds an ill-tended family plot, the most recent date of death a hundred years in the past. A simple man, maybe a baker, judging by the carving on the headstone. That will do.

He makes up a story to go with it (a Piltover family of small shopkeepers, forced into the undercity by hard times several generations ago, but topsiders by ancestry still) and starts writing his name as Viktor Trini on homework assignments and forms.

"Viktor." Professor Heimerdinger catches his attention after class one day, a few weeks into the term. Viktor has a routine for this steep amphitheater-style lecture hall by now. Sit in the front so he doesn't have to deal with the stairs; make a bit of a show of gathering up his books and papers slowly after class, letting the students who are in a hurry get out the door first, without his uneven steps slowing them down.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Excellent work on the last assignment. Inspired problem-solving, if I must say."

"Thank you, Professor." He'd been gratified by the solution he came up with, but it's nice to hear someone else say it, too.

Heimerdinger is still holding his problem set paper, rocking on his toes on the small stepladder he uses when lecturing, when he doesn't get too animated and just start striding across the desk like a stage. "You know," he says. "I knew an Aloisius Trini, many years ago. Lovely fellow. He could get a bit gruff with the customers, when the shop was busy, but he made the best meat pies, so nobody cared. I was wondering, might he be your...grandfather perhaps?"

"Yes," Viktor says quickly. "Though I never knew him."

Heimerdinger lowers his voice conspiratorially. "I think you will find that great-grandfather works better, given the math." And he winks.

Viktor's throat goes dry. "Professor, I--"

"Ah-ah. No need to worry, my dear boy. Most people you meet in Piltover won't be nearly three hundred years old." He leans in, drops his voice to a whisper again. "We'll keep this our little secret."

Ah. He understands what's going on now. "Of course. What do you want in return?" He doesn't like this, owing someone who could have him expelled with the stroke of a pen.

Heimerdinger looks surprised at the question. "Nothing!" he says. But that can't be true. He'll ask for something sooner or later.

"I want you to succeed," Heimerdinger says after a moment. "I've seen a lot of students come through these halls, and you're very bright. I predict you'll do extraordinary things."

It still feels like a trap, and maybe it shows on his face, because after a minute Heimerdinger makes a noise of frustration and says, "Fine. If you insist on viewing this as a favor to be repaid, come to my office. There's a lightbulb that needs changing and I can't reach it."

That, he can do. "Thank you, Professor," he says quietly as Heimerdinger hops down the stairs of the stepladder.

"Don't thank me until you've seen the state of this light fixture. I can't reach it to dust, either."

[maxdibert]

Personal view, as someone who grew up in an abusive environment and is hyper-reactive to seeing children in distress or being mistreated by adults, including in fictional depictions, I never felt the kids in Harry Potter were in any danger from Snape. He’s bitchy and snarky, yes. But no more so than other teachers in Hogwarts. And from what I’ve experienced in the fandom, a lot of Snape fans are abuse survivors in some shape or form. He’s a complex character, and unlike a lot of fictional abuse survivors, he can actually be angry and rage. It’s very cathartic for people who have had to mask and suppress their negative emotions in real life.

It's curious how most Severus fans tend to be survivors of bullying or people who see themselves reflected in him because they went through similar experiences in school, or people who have experienced violence at home. Meanwhile, the haters are simply kids who have a terrible teacher and project that onto Snape, so they hate him.

If we're going to play the "I had terrible teachers, so I know how it feels" card, then I can use that too. Not only did I have terrible teachers—so bad that what they did was absolutely reportable and punishable—but in university, I even had professors who LITERALLY made students cry with their critiques. And yes, I’m very angry with those teachers. Even though I wasn’t always a direct victim, thinking about the teachers from my old school fills me with rage. And yes, whenever I’ve run into some of them on the street, I’ve made sure to say something to them in a super passive-aggressive way.

But the thing is, I don’t see any of them in Severus. Not a single one.

Severus has always reminded me of a literature teacher I had in my last years of school. He was a guy who taught classes to make some money while finishing his university doctorate—clearly, his goal was to be a researcher or teach at a university level. And you could tell from a mile away that he HATED having to teach teenagers. But hey, the school paycheck was good, right? I’m not going to blame him for that. The thing is, he had a degree in Philosophy and Literature and had a level way above that of a regular high school teacher.

I remember he was young. At the time, he seemed like an old man to me because when you're 16, anyone over 20 seems ancient, but he probably wasn’t even 35 yet. The thing is, he had no patience for nonsense. He hated childish antics in class, got annoyed by dumb questions, and if he explained something and someone asked the exact same thing two minutes later, he would clearly get irritated. I remember once a kid told him he had just read the latest Dan Brown novel, and this guy, with the most cunty smirk, said, "Well, I wouldn't know about that, Mr. X. I don't read mass-market literature." And it was like… lol why so mean? But I found it hilarious.

He was the only teacher who called us by our last names and never used informal speech, which was shocking to us because it never happened with other teachers. He rarely attended staff meetings or team dinners (a teacher who was actually abusive and spent entire classes physically humiliating 15-year-olds used to complain about that a lot). You almost never saw him interacting with other teachers because, honestly, I’ve always had the feeling that he thought his colleagues were idiots—and I don’t blame him. If I worked with that bunch today, I’d think they were idiots too.

Now, this guy was strict. Very strict. If you got a 4.9, he wasn’t giving you a 5, because you didn’t get a 5. He wasn’t going to be nice to you unless he thought it was strictly necessary. He wasn’t going to be warm, he wasn’t going to be friendly, he wasn’t going to be funny. He despised mainstream literature and bestsellers, believed certain books were absolute garbage, and thought people who only read that kind of stuff didn’t actually understand literature and lacked the braincells for it. You could agree or disagree with him, but his behavior wasn’t abusive.

Was he sometimes too blunt? Did he have incredibly sharp, sometimes unpleasant responses? Yes. And, funnily enough, this teacher was widely disliked precisely because he was one of the strictest ones. He was hated even more than the guy who groped female students or the one who called kids fat, gave them weight-loss tips, and told girls they dressed like prostitutes if they wore certain tops. But those guys used informal speech, gave you a 5 if you got a 4.6, and weren’t that strict, so people didn’t hate them as much.

That’s why Severus always reminded me of this guy. Ironically, I really liked him because I appreciated his sardonic, sharp humor, and he appreciated that I had read One Hundred Years of Solitude at 12 lol. But above all, he liked that, even though I never paid attention in his classes because I physically couldn’t focus on a lecture for more than 10 minutes, I never disrupted anything. I never got caught talking, never caused trouble—I was just drawing my stuff or reading things unrelated to the lesson, but I wasn’t bothering anyone.

And honestly, I think that’s all Severus wanted from his students: for them not to be a pain in his ass. And if he was an even bigger jerk to some, it was precisely because they got on his nerves the most.

The Weasley twins were total chaos and constantly acting like fools, yet they never have a bad word to say about Snape throughout the saga besides that he was kinda mean sometimes. Why is that? Maybe because they didn’t put the whole class in danger? Maybe because, while they were insufferable in the hallways, they knew they had to tone it down in Potions?

Only two people have a real problem with Severus as a teacher throughout the saga: one is Harry, who disrespects him from day one, constantly challenges him, talks back, breaks the rules, and does exactly the opposite of what Severus tells him. The other is Neville, who basically exists to give Severus seven consecutive nervous breakdowns in a single class.

That doesn’t make you an abuser—it makes you an adult who is sick to death of two pain-in-the-ass kids.