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scuttle-buttle · 3 years ago

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Chapter 11

WC: 2077

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort

🧠

The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.

Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.

Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.

"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.

"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."

You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.

You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."

The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.

You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.

The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.

Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.

Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.

His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"

"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.

"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.

Bubble popped.

Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.

Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."

You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."

Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."

He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"

"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.

"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."

Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.

Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.

Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.

"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.

"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."

He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”

As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.

“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.

Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.

“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.

Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.

But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.

You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.

“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”

“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.

You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”

Tag list

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#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler daniel bruhl #scuttle-buttle #tw self harm #tw suicude #tw child abuse

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leiawritesstories · 3 years ago

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Speak To My Heart

Rowaelin Month, Day 15: A bad day

Word count: 3422

Warnings: language, bit of depression, fighting. In short, there is angst in this fic. Hope the ending makes up for the rest.

Linguistics and foreign languages are two of my personal passions, so please bear with the bits of language talk that I couldn’t resist including. Brief word of clarification: a lot of expressions we use in English either translate into something extremely rude or don’t make sense in other languages. Translation companies have been trying for quite some time to make sure they don’t accidentally send a client a translated instruction manual that reads “fuck your mother” instead of “for questions, contact your local energy department.” All right I’ll get off my soapbox. :)

The phrases in foreign languages, marked with *, are translated into English at the end. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rowan’s day had been shit. The second he walked through the door, he’d been bombarded with an endless slew of crash reports, malfunctioning equipment, faulty passwords, and best of all, having to rewrite half the security firewalls because one of the rash young idiots in his department couldn’t be bothered to check his work for errors before sending it to management. And management thought it was the department boss’s job to fix all of his employees’ fuckups.

He hated IT.

Even more so since being promoted to department chair.

All he wanted to do was the fun stuff--program design and development, fixing the flaws in his own designs, and of course making those who tried to break into his company’s systems regret their pitiful existence. But Cadre Tech’s bitch of a CEO refused to let the best software engineer on her staff actually do his job.

Most days, he could cope with the pile of useless shit she directed to his desk. Most days. Today was not one of those days. Probably because on top of all the meaningless tasks he’d had to field, he was also forced to sit through one of Maeve’s bullshit “department head strategy sessions,” where every department chair had to pretend they gave a single shit about any word coming from their CEO’s garishly red, pinched mouth.

As if she knew anything her staff actually did.

Thanks to the compulsory meeting, Rowan was stuck in his office at nearly ten o’clock, painstakingly combing through the final draft of the update to CT’s translation program. This program had shot the company to fame and fortune, or at least insane stock value. “A Google Translate that actually translates,” their marketing department called it, and by the gods, that stupid slogan worked. And made sense. Rowan knew the program was just as good as it claimed to be.

He’d put in the hours, alongside a team of linguists, software engineers, designers, and people fluent in at least one other language. Frequent were the sessions where the project whiteboard turned into a jumble of words in twenty or more languages, Spanish alongside Arabic next to a column of simplified Japanese characters spilling over into a row of Cyrillic lettering. Rowan himself spoke German and some Spanish, but even he was lost amid the cacophony of eighteen different people switching from language to language, trying to figure out how idiomatic expressions translated from one language to another and what words should never, ever be placed together.

It took the team well over a year of bickering, or as they called it, friendly linguistic disagreements, to make it from loosely mapped concept to functioning program. By the time it hit the market three years ago, the software had been so well promoted that companies all over the world snapped up their chance to finally communicate properly with the client they’d offended years ago with a bad translation.

At launch, of course, Maeve stood in front of a sea of shouting reporters brandishing microphones, smiling her serpentine smile, and proceeded to thank the creative team for all their “contributions” before taking all the credit herself.

Said creative team went to the bar that had become their usual gathering spot that night to get drunk and shit-talk their horrible boss, not necessarily in that order.

His favorite memory of that night was hearing the chief linguist, an outside contract with multiple advanced degrees who spoke eight separate languages besides English fluently, refer to Maeve as “quella puttana rugosa che non riusciva a convincere un cazzo a venire a dieci metri da lei se si vestiva da figa.*” The Italian speakers on the team were crying with laughter, and so was everyone else, once she translated it.

And then she downed another shot of vodka and hissed something that sounded like “sukya bliyad, no puedo mich betrinken con esta ordures.**” When everyone blinked in confusion, she sighed and relayed the sentiment in English.

Nobody had laughed as hard as Rowan. Aelin Galathynius just had that effect on him.

She brightened his darkest days.

But she couldn’t ease the strain of today.

And it was all his fault.

Aelin glanced up at the clock on her wall and cursed in three different languages when she saw that it was nearly eleven. Without meaning to, she’d spent all afternoon and evening writing lesson notes on idiomatic expressions. She really couldn’t help herself once she got into the topic; it was her pet project.

And the subject of one of her dissertations. Yes, she had multiple.

She’d worked her ass off for years to get through college, then through graduate and doctoral work while teaching at universities to offset costs, then earned a full-time teaching position at one of the top-ranked universities in the world. She got to teach linguistics, her lifetime love, and give guest lectures at other universities and at conferences, teaching people all over the world about the complexities and interrelatedness of language. Hell, she spoke ten; she’d be qualified to speak on linguistic relationships by virtue of that alone.

Gods, she was the chief linguist behind the most successful translation software ever produced. Even if the bitch who owned the rights to said software had literally threatened to sue over ownership rights if any of the people who’d poured their figurative blood and sweat and literal tears into building the program tried to claim a small piece of the credit each of them so richly deserved.

That software and her role in its creation--even though Maeve Ond had claimed the public credit, the creative team spoke at interviews and made news features for their work in Cadre Tech’s massive success--had solidified her credentials as a professor of linguistics, had boosted her into her lecturer spot.

Last year, her university granted her tenure.

She should have been overjoyed, and she was, but not as much as earning tenure deserved.

Because there was nobody to share her joy.

Three years ago, in the wake of CT’s overnight jump to worldwide fame, Aelin fled a love she did not and never would deserve.

She told herself she would never look back. But she did. Almost every day, she looked back at the life she’d shared with Rowan and tried to convince herself that she did the right thing.

Try as she might, she could never silence the whisper that echoed always in her mind.

“You broke both of your hearts”

Someday, she told herself, someday she would be back in Doranelle. Someday, she would have a chance to apologize. Someday, maybe she could fix the Rowan-shaped chasm that gaped wide in her heart.

Yet here she was, sitting in a very nicely appointed hotel room in the university district of Doranelle, typing furiously away as if burying herself in notes and prep for tomorrow’s lecture could make the urge to contact Rowan disappear.

Three years earlier. Doranelle.

“Knock, knock.”

Rowan’s head jerked up from where it had most definitely not been slumped on his desk. “Wha--Oh. Hi, Aelin.”

“You’re falling asleep, buzzard, let’s go home.” He heard laughter in her soft voice.

“As if you won’t just get home and start cross-checking every single one of the phrases on your ‘potential problem’ list.”

She chuckled, walking over to him. “Fine. We’re both perfectionist work whores. Doesn’t mean we don’t need sleep.”

“I know you too well to believe you’re actually going to sleep.”

“All right, you win. Come home now, I’ll make some food, and you can put me to bed.” She winked saucily at him, leaving very little doubt what putting her to bed would entail, and he was up out of his chair in seconds.

“Hand over your computer, Fireheart,” he grinned as they walked into the small house they shared on the outskirts of the city.

“What?”

“Your computer, love. I’m leaving both of our work bags on the shelf by the front door so we can actually catch some rest tonight.” He pressed a finger to her mouth to silence her protests. “Uh-uh, Ae, we have interviews tomorrow and I won’t let the genius behind this program’s flawless word-to-word be anything but well-rested.”

She sighed, but he saw the love in her eyes. “Here, then, my dear brilliant software engineer. Leave your notebook, too, because I know if it’s anywhere near you, you’ll be up at three in the morning scribbling blocks of gibberish and picking apart your faultless code until you go insane.”

Both of their work satisfactorily put aside, Aelin made good on her promise to cook Rowan dinner.

And then he made very good on his promise to put her to bed.

The next morning, they were both awake with the sunrise, content to lay curled in each other’s arms as the morning light spread across their room.

Rowan drifted back into sleep, waking for good when he caught a whiff of coffee from the kitchen’s direction.

“Morning, you sleepy buzzard,” Aelin grinned, sipping from her mug.

Rowan dropped a kiss on her head as he reached for his mug. He took a long drink, sighing as the milky, sweetened caffeine hit his mouth.

“I will never understand how you drink your coffee black, Fireheart.”

“Not all of us need to sweeten the hell out of coffee to drink it, Ro. Maybe if you can’t handle the real thing, you should go back to your pretty little cups of crappy cafe tea.”

“Mention my pretty little teacups again, Ae…”

She giggled. “You be quiet and drink your coffee-flavored milk, my love. We both know you’re impossibly grumpy until you have caffeine in your veins.”

He grumbled something unintelligible as he drank his coffee.

They were nearly late to work that morning, even having planned an extra half hour to arrive, thanks to Aelin wearing what Rowan dubbed her “sexy professor suit.” She fixed the pins in her French twist in the car, making herself once again a portrait of professionalism, and slipped Rowan’s hand from her leg.

“Two hands on the wheel, Whitethorn.”

He pouted. “But I’m a safe driver and I want to hold your hand.”

“My hands are over here, love, not down by my skirt.”

When he pulled into his spot, Aelin closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath.

“You good, Fireheart?”

Gods, she loved hearing him call her that. “Yeah. I just…needed a moment to settle myself. To tell myself the cameras aren’t here to tear apart what I say.”

Rowan wrapped his hands around hers. “Dr. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the bland reporters are here to stand in awe of your expertise. Not a single word you say will come across as anything but brilliant and beautifully said.”

She squeezed his hands, her usual confidence returning. “I love you, buzzard.”

“I love you too, Fireheart. Let’s go talk about our amazing achievement.”

The day sped by in a blur of reporters, interviewers, teleprompters, practiced speeches, lights, cameras, and crew. When the last bleached-blonde anchor of the last interview of the day cut her crew’s cameras, Aelin flopped against her second-in-linguistic-command, Dr. Nehemia Ytger, the expert on ethnic African languages.

“If I never see a news crew again, it’ll be too soon,” she sighed. “I’m beat.”

Nehemia snickered. “But we’re done talking about how proud we are that Maeve and her marvelous company have done such a grand service to the world.”

Aelin snorted softly. “Right. And now we servicepeople want to go home and take off our heels.”

“Amen to that.”

As the team filed out of the studio, Rowan made his way over to Aelin. “Holding up?”

“Not anymore,” she said, leaning casually into his side. “My heels are killing me, there’s a hairpin stabbing into my scalp, and I really, really need to pee.”

Rowan laughed, deep and husky. “Let’s get you home, then.”

“I’m stopping in the bathroom first.”

Just before she left the ladies’ room, Aelin heard voices in the break area. Familiar voices--Rowan’s, Maeve’s, and the snippy, borderline whiny tones of Remelle Frelau, who worked in the marketing department and had a hell of a boner for Rowan.

“--looking at revenue over--” Maeve’s voice cut out, but from the gasps of the other two, the revenue was through the roof.

“And it’s all thanks to this genius here,” drawled Remelle, who if Aelin had her guess was probably clinging onto Rowan like a platinum-blonde leech.

“Ms. Frelau, this was the product of a team. No single person could possibly have made it happen alone.”

“Oh, call me Remelle, or even better Remy. And you’re the team leader, so you practically did create it by yourself.”

Aelin snickered to herself. Vapid bitch had no idea what she was saying.

“That’s not how teams work, Ms. Frelau. We wouldn’t be here without Dr. Galathynius and Dr. Ytger’s language expertise, not to mention the creative genius of the engineers, graphic designers, linguists, and programmers.”

“Ms. Frelau, though her judgment is clearly biased, has a point, Mr. Whitethorn,” Mave said. “You demonstrated remarkable collaborative leadership qualities throughout this project, and I fully expect that you will continue to do so.” Maeve’s heels clicked away. Rowan’s voice followed her.

“Thank you, Ms. Ond, but I have to credit Dr. Galathynius--”

“Will you stop kissing that woman’s ass?” snorted Remelle. “Gods, she’s not worth your time or your praise; all she does is translate words into different languages and you idiots drool over that like it means anything.”

Aelin jerked like she’d been slapped. She knew Remelle was a self-centered, shallow, spiteful bitch, but she hadn’t known she would do this.

“--did more for this project than you and your useless whiteboard of catchphrases,” growled Rowan.

“I don’t care what she ‘did for the project,’ Rowan, she’s never going to be good enough for you.”

“Thank you for caring about my welfare, Frelau, now please kindly fuck off.”

Aelin chose that moment to saunter out of the bathroom and head straight for Rowan, her face showing no hint of having heard that conversation. She did note with satisfaction Remelle’s vain attempt to march out of the room with some semblance of dignity. Too bad her heel caught on the seam of the hallway carpet and the break room’s tile flooring and she had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing.

“You’re awfully quiet, Aelin.”

“Just thinking. Processing, really. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Rowan nodded. “I bet.”

“And hearing fucking Remelle rip into me for being useless…didn’t make it better.”

“Shit, you heard that?”

“Yeah. I heard that.” Her voice was hollow.

Rowan pulled into their driveway and shut off the engine. Reaching across the console, he cupped Aelin’s face in his hands. “Aelin. You are brilliant. You are terrifyingly smart. You are a force of nature. Nothing, nothing you will ever do is useless. Don’t let that jealous bitch make you think you are less than the perfect woman.”

She smiled tentatively at him. “She…she told me before that last interview that I could never be enough for you. Because you--because of Lyria.”

Rowan raked a hand through his hair. “Ae, can we talk about this inside?”

That night, he told her about his former fiancé, Lyria. He told her about their whirlwind romance, their youthful dreams. He told her about the horrific crash that stole away Lyria’s life. A drunk trucker, a narrow pass in the mountains. He showed her the box in which he kept all the memories of that life. He cried. Aelin cried. He curled against her, let her comfort him.

“Sometimes, I wish she was still here. She’d understand everything. She always did.”

Aelin had no response. She let Rowan fall asleep, his weight shifting off her and into his bed, and looked through the box. Everything she saw served as another reminder that this was the first woman he loved, the woman who understood everything.

She was worthy of him.

But was Aelin?

The more she looked at Rowan and Lyria’s happiness, the more the answer solidified.

No.

When Rowan woke up the next morning, Lyria’s box sat on Aelin’s side of the bed, a side that had not held Aelin.

He glanced out the window.

Her car was gone.

He got up and frantically paced through the house.

Everything she’d brought into his home was gone.

As was she.

Present day.

Rowan opened his front door mechanically, pulled off his shoes, dropped his work backpack on its shelf, and was halfway to his bedroom before he realized he’d just opened his front door. His front door that was always locked.

Someone was in his house.

Someone who either had a duplicate key or insanely good lockpicking skills.

Exactly one person owned a duplicate key to his house.

Aelin.

That’s impossible, she lives in Orynth, she can’t be here, he told the traitorous part of his brain that leapt with joy at seeing Aelin’s face again.

He turned around and made his way through the kitchen--nobody there--to the living room. He flicked on a lamp, casting a soft light around the room.

And nearly had a heart attack.

Aelin Galathynius sat on his couch.

For a moment, he just gawked at her. She looked so…different. Older. Gone was the infectious smile that had captured his heart. Dark shadows smeared under her eyes, testament both to the long hours she devoted to her work and to recent sleepless nights. She was twisting a ring on her right hand, a familiar sign of her nerves. From his angle, Rowan could see a hint of dark script on her wrist. A tattoo. The Aelin he knew didn’t have tattoos.

“I’m not a ghost.” Her voice, weary and hollow, broke the tense silence.

Rowan crossed the room, propped an arm on the fireplace. “Why?”

“Why am I here? Why did I leave? Why did I cut you out of my life?”

“Everything.” He couldn’t keep the waver from his voice, but his eyes burned into hers.

She took a steadying breath. “I’m here to apologize, first of all. I’m here to face what I ruined and to try and start mending it. I’m here to come to terms with everything I broke when I left three years ago.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I’m sorry I left like that. I was…I was scared.”

“You can’t just run away from your fears, Aelin!” He couldn’t keep the frustration from his tone. “You can’t just abandon someone when you have a bad day!”

“I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have left! I know I can’t run from my fears; I’ve spent the last three years trying and fucking failing to do that! But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Saying something about it would have been a good first step.”

“I’m bad at emotions, Rowan. I tried. It wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse.”

Aelin flicked a tear from her face. “I know.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Rowan. I should never have left. I let some stupid comment root into my head and make me doubt myself. I made myself believe I would never be good enough for you. I left you. I loved you, and I still left you. I still love you, even though I’ve tried to suppress it. I can never make up for that. I…I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve regretted that horrible decision all these years. I want you to be happy, Rowan, I--”

“How am I supposed to be happy without a source?” He’d dropped onto the couch, close enough to touch her but still keeping his distance.

“What?”

“You didn’t just take yourself away, Aelin. You were my happiness. I’ve spent three fucking years trying to make myself believe I’m better without you in my life, and I can’t.”

She was unabashedly crying by that point. “What do you want me to do? How can I make up for abandoning you?”

“Stay.”

Her gaze locked onto his, both of their eyes pooling with tears.

“Stay with me, Fireheart.”

“But--”

“I never stopped loving you either.”

A choked sob ripped out of Aelin. Rowan couldn’t hold himself in check any longer; he reached out and tugged her gently into his arms. To his shock, she didn’t resist, burying her face into his chest as sobs shook her shoulders. When she calmed, he tilted her chin up.

“Will you stay, Aelin?”

“Yes. Even though I will never deserve your forgiveness, yes.”

Translations:

* = “that pinched old whore who couldn’t convince a dick to come within ten metres of her if she dressed up provocatively” (Italian)

** = loosely translated as “Fucking hell, I can’t get drunk off this garbage.” (in order, Russian (badly phonetically spelled out because Rowan POV), Spanish, German, Spanish again, French) (the Russian doesn’t directly translate, so it could mean several different variations of expletive)

Might there be a second part? Perhaps......

#my writing #rowaelin month #aaaaaangst

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marveloussupernerd · 3 years ago

Text

Miss Trustfund Kid - Zen x Han!MC

Chapter 2 - Dinner Nerves

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Synopsis: The younger sister of Jumin Han. An actor and model who thought he wanted nothing to do with the family. But you’re... different. And he could actually picture a life with you? If he wasn’t such an asshole

You were pacing the conference room nonstop. A negotiation dinner? Just sitting down with Zen to sign the papers made you want to throw up. You weren’t good at this

But what were you going to do? Jaehee had made reservations for the nice restaurant nearby, you were all dressed, you had sent Zen the information...

Jumin knocked on the door to the room, making you jump visibly. “Did I scare you?” He asked, closing the door quietly behind him.

You buried your face in your hands. “I messed it up, Jumin. He didn’t sign. He wants to talk more about it tonight.”

Jumin sighed, leaning against the conference table. “He’s always difficult. I didn’t think he’d be so bad for you, though. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve never done a negotiation dinner. This is so out of my league.”

He glanced over at you, eyes scanning your features. “You’re really stressed, huh?”

You pouted. “I just don’t like feeling like I’ve let you and dad down.”

He sighed, pushing himself off the table and wrapping you into a hug. “You’re not letting us down. You want me to go instead? I’ll whip him into shape.”

“I wanna go... I really do. But I’m just incompetent. And I messed it up already. I think I’d be better staying back and doing other work.” You felt dejected, but you had messed this up enough already. You didn’t want to risk the deal falling through because of you.

“Okay. Don’t worry about it.” He looked down at you. “You did great. Don’t feel bad.”

“I’m sorry...” you apologized again. Jumin just gave you a soft smile and excused himself, having to get ready for his dinner.

You settled down and got back to work, trying to avoid thinking about the situation. Hours passed, you absolutely refusing to look at your phone and trying to absorb yourself into your work to forget about the whole situation.

A knock sounded on the door, much later. The office that had once been lit up by the blue sky, now was illuminated only by the moon and the flourescent ceiling lights. You glanced at your phone: 9:17. Then at the door. You were surprised to see the model back, waiting for your beckoning to come in.

You stood up to meet him by the door. “Hi, come on in. I’m sorry I skipped out on our dinner; to be honest, I’m not fully confident in the negotiation sort of thing.” You flashed him an apologetic smile.

He chuckled. “I’m sorry for making you panic. I thought I was being upfront, but sometimes I just can’t get my point acros. I was actually just trying to ask you to dinner.” He pulled a bag of food from behind his back, holding it out in front of him. “Have you eaten yet?”

Oh. You were an idiot. You felt heat rushing to your face: you were pretty bad at picking up on those sorts of signs, huh? “I’m so sorry!” You buried your face in your hands. “I’m so stupid. Yes. I’d love to have dinner with you.”

“Good.” He strolled over to the table, taking a seat next to the one you had been working at, laying out the burgers and French fries he had gotten. “It’s nothing like the place we were supposed to go to, but still.”

“You went there anyways!” You giggled, happily taking some of the fries.

“Yeah, but I got out of there as quickly as possible when I saw who I had to meet with. You sent Jumin after me? Really? I’m hurt.” He held his chest in fake pain.

You shrugged unapologetically. “Well, he’s the one who signed me up to do this, so it was his job to clean up my supposed mess.”

“I thought you were ghosting me.”

“No! I’m just really bad at picking up signals. My relationship and flirting life has been very dry,” you explained, looking down at your food, embarrassed to admit it.

“Really? But you seem so fun to be around.”

You shook your head. “People take one look at me and run for the hills. I can’t say I blame them though. Everyone thinks I’m stiff and intimidating and snobby.”

“You genuinely look like none of the above. You seem like a nice, beautiful, down to earth person.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” you grinned, unable to hide the smile on your face.

The room fell into a comfortable silence for a minute, the two of you focusing on your food. You decided to break it and get to know him better. “So, do you have any siblings?” Obviously you had one, that went without saying, but you wondered if he was an only child or if he had to share the spotlight too. You could see either case.

“I have an older brother, yeah, but I’m not really on good terms with my family...”

“That sucks. I’m sorry about that. Could I ask why?”

You were afraid of him shutting you down, but he just looked at you and smiled. “Well, they’re really well educated and they didn’t really support my dreams to be an actor, so...”

“Oh. My family’s chaotic and all but they’ve always supported my career goals, so that’s nice. I’m sorry your situation is so different.”

You finished up your food, throwing the empty containers into the bag and throwing it away.

“Thank you for bringing me food. Sorry I’m embarrassingly bad on picking up your cues earlier. It was really sweet of you to come see me,” you told him. Nobody had ever gone out of their way for you. They just wanted you for the status or the money — well, it was quite possible he was the same, but he didn’t feel like it. You hoped you were right.

“Of course.” He stood up from his spot. “Uh, now I’m always a gentleman, but I’m not gonna lie, I’m super attracted to you and I would love to give you a kiss good night.” His ears were tinted red at his own statement, but his eyes met yours, no fear or hesitation in them.

You giggled. He was just so cute and chivalrous? This was probably a bad decision. “Of course you can.”

He cupped your cheek, leaning in close. He smelled like peppermint. His nose brushed against yours, taking his time to place his lips on yours.

“Miss Han, I hate to interrupt, but you have a call on line one,” Jaehee stated, standing awkwardly in the doorway and rubbing her arm.

You jumped back from Zen. “Oh! Thank you!” Flustered, you went over to the desk and picked up the phone, sending an apologetic glance over to Zen.

“Hello,” you started the call, grabbing your notebook and planner just in case you needed it, “this is Y/N Han.”

“Hi! Sorry for the late call. This is James Amei from NovaTech. I was looking over our contract and found something we wanted to talk over.”

“Oh! It’s no problem. I’m working late as always anyways. We’ll get you in here as soon as possible to discuss...” you glanced up at Zen, who was still standing where you left him, a look on his face that you couldn’t quite read. “Uh, how’s Tuesday at 2:30?”

A pause. “That’s great. Thank you so much.”

“No problem!” You flipped through your book. “Have a great rest of your night, and tell Shannon I said hi!”

He bid you good night then hung up. You looked back over to Zen. “Sorry about that. The work never ends.”

He was still blank faced, staring at you. You looked down at your hands, trying to figure out what the issue was.

“Oh! I write down details about all the people I correspond with in my journal. It’s nice to recall little things about them, like his wife or whatever.”

Nope. That wasn’t it.

“Are you okay? Do you need a water?”

He blinked hard, then shook his head. “I’m... your his sister?”

“Huh?”

Oh. Jumin’s. You nodded your head. “I honestly thought you knew.”

He shook his head violently. “I didn’t know. I- God. I hate his guts. How can you two seem so different?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Well we have different moms. And we were raised different. He was raised as the heir to the company. I was just raised as... me.”

“You’re Miss Trustfund Kid?”

Uh. So maybe he wasn’t as amused by this as you thought he may be.

“...an argument could be made for that, yes. I didn’t realize you didn’t know, and I didn’t realize it was such a big deal.”

You were almost... offended? That the second he found out who you were his whole attitude took a shift. It sucked. This is how it always was though.

He ran a hand through his hair, his face looking far more tired than it did a few minutes ago. “I’m sorry. I’m being rude. I just- you’re his sister!?”

“Yup.”

“Like you two... played together as kids!?”

“Jumin didn’t really like children’s toys all that much.”

Zen frowned. “Of course he didn’t. But still. You grew up together?”

“Yes. He’s a few years older though.”

“You grew up with V?”

“Of course.”

Zen took a seat. “I just... wow. Wow.”

“You look like someone told you you have a week to live.”

He glanced at you, then pouted. “I’m just surprised.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “What? You don’t like me now? What’s so different, I have money?” You grinned. “I’m a college student getting my PhD, so I’m definitely no Jumin.”

“I just assumed you were going to be in the family business.”

You grinned, shaking your head. You were proud of paving your own path. “Nah. I’m in law and I want to be a professor.”

“You’re so badass.”

“You so hate that you like me.”

He stood from his chair, leaning forward to lock his lips with yours. It wasn’t the chivalrous, gentle sort of kiss that you were expecting a few moments ago, but it was just as good, maybe even better? He was a fury of emotions and passion and he was handsome and witty and amazing. Even if this was a bad idea, it was a great one.

Until a voice broke you out of your spell.

“What in God’s name are you doing to my sister?”

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @imatalossforwords lmk if you want to be added :)

#mystic messenger #mysme #zen #zen x reader #hyun ryu #x reader #Han!reader #Jumin han #mysme x reader #miss trustfund kid

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years ago

Text

Very Okay

I was consumed with the urge to write some domestic smut so here's some soft dads Widomauk just banging it out at the end of a long week. Huge thanks to my wonderful enablers @spiky-lesbian and @minky-for-short

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Please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3!

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“...and then Una said next week she’s swimming for her Level 2 badge and she’s a little nervous, she’s got to go a whole lap. She’ll be fine, of course, but she has that whole thing about putting her head underwater so we need to make sure we keep an eye on her.”

Molly nodded, shifting so his tail wasn’t trapped under his leg, “She’ll do a wonderful job, she goes through the water like a shark. Literally, with the teeth…”

“And Trinket needs a costume put together, it’s World Book Day on Friday and apparently preschool kids have Fairy Tales as their theme? So I was thinking we could just swipe something from when your theatre group did Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s a little short notice and I thought that would save you having to sew something new.”

“Yeah, he loves messing around back there anyway,” Molly nodded, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear, trying to angle his chest forward, “So, um…”

“Oh!” Caleb’s finger shot into the air, sending a wave of water over the edge of the tub, “Before I forget! I have to take the kittens to get their vaccinations at the vets tomorrow so if you could watch the bookstore for me, that would be such a huge help.”

“Of course baby, I can do that, but don’t you think we should maybe-”

“Thank you! I promise I’ll be super quick, I have this thing at the Academy, apparently professors are supposed to go to parties? That wasn’t on the job description-”

“Caleb,” Molly couldn’t help himself, reaching up and taking hold of his husband’s face, doing his absolute best not to laugh, “Listen, I love catching up with you but this is our date night and you were kind of about to start fucking me and it seems we’ve stalled a little? If we could get back on that, it would be great.”

Caleb took a few long, slow blinks, his eyes then travelling around him like he was only just noticing the fact that he was sharing a bathtub, naked, pressed up against his equally naked husband. Or rather, remembering that he was, it seemed like he’d been pretty into the idea when he’d been tearing Mollymauk’s clothes off and tipping him into the water.

“Oh,” his face flushed so quickly it can’t have had anything to do with the heat of the water, “I’m killing the mood, aren’t I?”

That was all of Molly’s available composure, he snorted as laughter tore it’s way out of his chest, sending his head knocking back against the rim of the tub. After a few moments, Caleb started giggling too, helplessly putting his hands over his face.

“I mean, it started well,” Molly cackled, hugging his arms around himself, as it happened sharing a tub between two people didn’t leave much water to cover you, “Y’know, growling that you were going to touch me until I screamed, that was a real good start to date night? It only went South when you started coordinating our schedules…”

Caleb groaned, tilting forward until he was resting his head on Molly’s shoulder, strands of hair falling out of his bun and drinking the water, “Sorry...There was just one thing I wanted to tell you and then it kept going.”

“It’s alright,” Molly chuckled, still cradling his head, pressing his lips to his head, “I do feel like we’ve hardly talked this week.”

“That’s just it!” Caleb sighed, melting a little in his husband’s arms, gingerly letting him take his weight, “Between the store and now me being an associate professor and you doing tech week, I feel like I only see you when I bump into you in the hallway.”

Molly had to admit he was right. Of course he was endlessly proud of his husband, the fact that he’d had the courage to even step over the threshold of the Soltryce Academy after everything he’d been through there, let alone accept a job and try and make the place better, was incredible. Making this huge step in his recovery all while maintaining the little bookstore he’d been running for the last few years, coming home tired and smiling every day, satisfied and certain of his place in the world. It was everything Molly had wanted for him.

But he couldn’t lie, he was starting to miss him.

Mollymauk smiled softly as he traced his fingers through his hair, “Well, I’m kind of glad it’s not just me who was thinking that...that’s kind of why I asked if we could make tonight a date night.”

Molly felt Caleb deflate a little in his arms, “And I turned it into some kind of press conference. I’m sorry, Mollymauk.”

Starting to purr, the tiefling’s tail found its way around Caleb’s leg, squeezing like some kind of comforting snake, “I’ll hear no apologies from you, Mr Caleb. What I wanted was to spend time with you and that’s what I’ve got. Minus clothes too, which is a nice bonus.”

Caleb made a soft, decisive noise, pulling himself back up, bracing his hands on the rim of the bath either side of Molly’s head.

“But if I went back to that whole ‘touch you until you scream’ thing? Would that be alright?” his smile turned crooked.

Molly unsuccessfully suppressed an undignified squeak of mixed shock and arousal, his smile flaring into a full blown grin.

“Oh that would be pretty okay too, yeah.”

Caleb gave one of those rough, rumbling laughs that Molly loved so much, the ones that only came out when Molly knew he was about to become the sole focus of Caleb’s not inconsiderable attention, when the brain that normally went in ten different directions and most of those on other planes of reality, was about to zero in on him and him alone.

Molly yelped as he felt surprisingly strong arms slide under him and lift him out of the water, sending rain pattering down from their bodies.

“Babe!” Molly locked his arms around his shoulders like a vice, “This is romantic and all but you’ve got skinny noodle arms!”

“Charming,” Caleb snorted, “You don’t weigh all that much, Liebling. I won’t drop you.”

Before Molly could properly address his doubt about that- he’d once watched his husband struggle for twenty minutes to open a jar of peanut butter that wasn’t even new- they were moving, water scattering generously along the hallway. Apparently lifting books all day was better for your upper body strength than Mollymauk had realised because, true to his word, Molly wasn’t dropped until he was tumbled into bed, Caleb following pretty soon after.

Eagerly he dragged him closer, pressing their lips together, barely letting a heartbeat pass before he slid his tongue across Caleb’s. He hiked his legs up around his husband’s waist like he was anchoring him there, like any bare inch between their bodies was just unbearable. Caleb’s hands felt like they were everywhere, so much so that Molly wasn’t convinced there wasn’t magic involved. Just the warm, roughened touch of his broad hands sliding across his shoulders, following the curve of his spine to press their bodies closer, kneading the softness of his thighs. Everywhere he needed him, Caleb was there and still it didn’t feel like enough.

Almost the exact moment he had that thought, he was turning, rolling, until suddenly he was on top and Caleb was grinning wickedly up at him, his normally bright blue eyes dark with want.

“Want to ride my tongue, Liebling?” he purred roughly, knowing the answer full well but still wanting to hear him say it.

Molly obliged him, whimpering, “Oh fuck yes.”

It wasn’t that people would look at Mollymauk and expect him to always prefer the dominant role in bed, he was well aware of the vibes he gave off and cultivated them carefully (though if anyone were to let their gaze linger more closely they’d notice the two fingernails on his right hand kept deliberately short). It was more that they would notice Caleb, hiding behind his hair and hunching his shoulders and never speaking above a low murmur and never imagine him as the kind of person to take control. Of anything really, let alone someone like Molly. He didn’t look like he could command a one person canoe in a swimming pool.

How little they knew.

Molly gripped the headboard so hard that the nails he did keep long and wickedly sharp bit into the wood, levering himself up a little, bracketing Caleb’s head with his knees. He hovered at first, even as his thighs trembled with anticipation, with the intense sensation of those eyes examining him meticulously. Suddenly he was incredibly aware of how wet he was, conscious of every bead of slick, every pulse of heat through him, the stiffness of his cock.

No one would look at Caleb and see a man capable of nearly making his husband come from eyes alone.

“So cruel of me to make you wait,” Caleb’s voice was a rumble in his chest, “And yet you look so beautiful when you’re desperate…”

“Caleb,” Molly whined, teeth gritted, the lightest brush of his husband’s breath enough to make him beg shamelessly, “Please.”

“My apologies,” Caleb’s accent got noticeably thicker when he was turned on, like the part of his brain usually keeping him in Common was slipping. Or perhaps he just knew it drove Molly wild, “Just admiring…”

He took hold of Molly’s thighs and pulled him down, until Molly felt the rough scrape of his beard against his flesh, the contact after so long waiting wrenching a soft cry from him. Then he felt his wizard’s lips part, his tongue, warmer, trace a teasing path between the valley of him and the cry became a throaty moan. He couldn’t help it, almost immediately he was rocking his hips, seeking more, every nerve ending screaming for it.

Caleb tapped his thigh smartly, half in warning that he hadn’t given permission, half in warning that- while drowning in him would be a rather pleasant way to go- he’d prefer not to go at all if the option was there. Molly forced himself to still, even as it made him ache between the legs, tipping his head back and taking deep, desperate gulps of air.

Back in control, Caleb rewarded him with broad, generous strokes of his tongue, keeping it flat so Molly felt every inch of it. He took his cock in his mouth, rolling it around his tongue, scraping lightly with his teeth, kissing and lapping and sucking like he was eating some fruit. Finally, he found his entrance, probing gently and then far less gently, pulling him close so he could plunge deeper.

Molly was as vocal as ever, clinging to the headboard for dear life, tail stiff and straight in the air. He’d learned, he kept his hips still but there was no need, Caleb was in control. He rocked him back and forth, using every ounce of this surprising strength, giving Mollymauk everything he needed, leaving him nothing left to take.

Molly’s frantic, formless moans and screams haphazardly threw themselves into something close to words, “Caleb, I...oh fuck, baby, I’m...gonna…”

Through the haze of it all, he felt two quick taps on his thigh, Caleb’s affirmative answer. His signal that it was okay to fall, that Caleb would catch him.

And so he did. A last scream tearing its way from his raw throat, Molly’s shoulders locked and his chin hit his chest as it all rolled through him, as it lit him up from the inside out. He couldn’t have said how long it lasted, only that when it was done with him he felt as exhausted as he ever had. Enough that when he started to sway too hard and fell, he didn’t have the strength to catch himself.

But Caleb did. Moving quickly, he sat up and wrapped his arms around his husband, snagging him before he could tumble off the bed.

“Easy there…” he panted, grinning.

Molly’s eyelids felt leaden but he couldn’t bear not to look at Caleb right now, smiling wonkily back and leaning into his embrace, “You are fucking magical.”

Caleb giggled, gently laying him down against the pillows, curling on his side beside him. The lower half of his face was shining in the low light, his smile soft and shy and sweet again. Molly reached up and laid a gentle hand on his cheek, like he was worried he would disappear if he didn’t.

Caleb caught his wrist, turning his head and pressing a kiss to his palm, “I’m right here, Liebling. I’m right here.”

Molly exhaled in gentle relief, his eyes slowly gaining focus, “You...lie next to me. Tell me everything you want to tell me, all about your day, all about...everything. I just want to listen to you. And then when my brain puts itself together it's your turn. Okay?”

Caleb nodded, eyes wide and eager and loving, “Very okay.”

#widomauk #modern au #critical role #smut #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #trans mollymauk

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i-drink-and-i-write-fics · 3 years ago

Text

Warriors

Chapter 7: Giving In

Summary: Reader and Logan map out the next steps of their relationship.

“So you’re actually going to do it?” Logan handed you a drink. You were stretched out on a lawn chair that was placed on one of the upper balconies only available to the school’s staff.

“Yeah, I guess so. I still think Coulson and the Professor made a mistake by choosing me, but clearly they’re not changing their minds anytime soon. And I guess I am the best example of a mutant working for the Avengers since Wanda didn’t even realize she was a mutant.” You took a sip of your drink. “Still not thrilled.”

Logan chuckled as he sat next to you. For the past two months you two had hung out at any chance possible. Which, between you each having missions and Logan being a teacher, wasn’t as often as you would have liked.

“I think you’ll do great, kid. And I’ll be there to cheer you on.”

“In your silent, brooding manner no doubt.”

“I’ll leaving the actually cheering to the kids.”

You smiled and leaned over to kiss him. “Thanks for supporting me and my stupid decision to agree to this.”

He chuckled as he kissed you back. “So when are you giving this life-ending speech?”

“The professor wants me in front of the school by the end of the week. Nat and Clint have been trying to help me write it, but I wanted to ask your opinion.”

“Mine?”

“Of course. Who better to give me the perspective of the non-joiner who ended up on a team? There’s bound to be a few people like that in your school. Even if they never choose either team, it will help them know it won’t be the end of the world to join any team.”

Logan nodded his head while he contemplated your request. “You’re not gonna need me up there with you, are you?”

You laughed and lightly slapped his arm. “No, I would never do that to you. I just need you to fill me in on the how and why you eventually joined the X-Men.”

“Gonna be a long story.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan nodded again before going into his story about how he first ended up at the mansion and then as an X-Men. The conversation went well into the night, with you only interrupting a few times with a question or two. By the time he finished, you had a better idea how to address the more reluctant students in the crowd.

“Thank you, Logan. This will help me so much. Now all I have to do is make sure my words come out in a coherent fashion.”

“Any time, kid. You’ll do just fine.” He walked you back to your bike at the front of the school. “Will I get to see you again before the speech?”

“I hope so. We don’t have any missions beforehand, but bad guys don’t exactly take vacation days. So the only plans I should have will be writing this damn speech.”

He smiled. “Good. Then keep one night free for me. I have a surprise lined up as long as Hydra doesn’t get in the way.”

You laughed. “It’s a date.”

Back at the compound you sat in a conference room with Nat and Clint, a pile of crumpled paper threatening to overrun the desk. Coulson walked in just as you flung the pad of paper aside like a frisbee with an annoyed shout.

“I take it the speech writing is going well?”

“I give up. Get the billionaire to do this. I’ll even coach him on what to say.” You slumped down in your chair.

“Barton, Romanov, I need a moment alone with Agent _____.”

The two nodded and left the room. You rolled your eyes as you sat back up. “I’m not an agent anymore.”

“Old habits die hard.” He pulled up a chair next to you. “So how are you and Logan?”

“Gotta admit, not where I thought this conversation was going.”

Coulson chuckled. “I just want to make sure you’re doing ok. Clearly you’re stressed out over the presentation so I thought I would ask you about other things.”

You paused for a moment while you gathered your answer. “Honestly, it’s great. I was worried for a micro minute about the age gap, but quickly remembered he is technically too old for anyone.” You both laughed at this. “But seriously, it’s great to actually date another mutant for once. We have a lot of share experiences so what were once deal breakers for other people are now just a moment we can bond over.”

“How does he treat you?” You could see the concern in his eyes.

Smiling, you patted Coulson on the hand. “I get it, really. Everyone’s been concerned since day one. Especially Clint. Though at least you guys hide it better than him. Logan is an amazing man. And he treats me with nothing less than respect. Other than wishing I could see him more, there really isn’t a complaint as of yet. Now before you start - ‘cause I saw you trying to open your mouth - I’m not so young and naive to believe it will always be that way. Logan and I both have damage from our past. Eventually it’ll cause an argument or two. But I also think we’re both level headed enough to get past those moments.”

“What happened to that young lady who joined SHIELD?”

“She was adopted by two super spies and their tough, but dorky boss.”

“Dorky?”

“Don’t look at me all offended. That’s a good thing. It means you’re still human after all that’s happened. Especially after….” you gestured vaguely at his chest.

“Good point.” He chuckled and then went back to his original point. “As long as he’s treating you well. I’d hate to have to hide a body.”

“No offense, Phil, but that’s not literally possible. The man lived through an atomic bomb, so I’m not sure what you, Clint, and Nat could possibly do to him. Though I do appreciate the protective nature.”

“And you believed him?”

“Not at first. I mean, you can see how far fetched that is. But I saw firsthand how quickly he can heal when he was accidentally cut during a training program with the kids. Sure as hell a possibility now.”

“And how quickly is that?”

“As quickly as it appeared. Which was, frankly, very unsettling to watch the first time.”

Coulson blinked at you a few times. "You would think that wouldn’t be the strangest thing I’ve heard of, but it’s really up there.”

You shrugged. “You’ve seen quite a few things, Director Coulson. But mutants weren’t really a thing you dealt with on a personal level until I came along.”

He chuckled and stood up. “I guess you’re right.” He patted you on the shoulder. “Ok, ____. I’ll let you get back to your speech. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. Do you want me to send Thing 1 and Thing 2 back in?”

You smirked up at him. “Might as well. I can practice my aim by hitting Barton in the head with these balls of paper.”

Two days later, you were back with Logan and he was leading you into the woods behind the school. He wouldn’t give you a hint as to where he was taking you, but he was carrying a basket. The sun was starting to set and it was sending beautiful rays of light between the trees. Finally Logan pulled you past a line of trees and you found yourself in front of a lake. The sun had already disappeared behind the trees across the lake and the twilight was reflected in the water.

“Logan, it’s so beautiful here.” You breathed.

He was busy setting up a large blanket he pulled from the basket as you walked over to the lake. “I figured you’d like it here. I come here often when I need to get away from the chaos of the school.”

You looked over your shoulder at him, amazed to find him setting up a picnic. “Logan, I didn’t know you were so romantic.”

You swore he blushed before he looked back down at the basket. “I have my moments. Though the picnic part was Colossus’ idea. I was just gonna bring you here for the view.”

A smile broke out over your face. “Colossus?”

Logan cleared his throat. “Yeah, he overheard me telling the professor where I was going tonight and felt the need to offer advice.”

“Well lucky for him it was good advice. Though just being here with you would have been enough.” You walked back over and sat on the blanket as Logan finished setting up.

He finally sat next to you and served you a plate of food. You both quietly ate as it grew darker. Before the sun set completely, Logan set up a campfire by the lakeside. You helped him clean up before moving to sit closer to him.

“So are you ready to give your speech tomorrow?”

“Not in the slightest. It’s written but I’m not convinced it’s remotely coherent.”

“Why’s that?”

“Nat and Clint helped me to write it. Nat kept circling the conversation back to you and I while Clint tried to see if he could drink all the coffee…. straight from the pot. It was a dumpster fire.”

Logan chuckled at the image you painted before pulling you in for a long kiss. “You’ll do just fine tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you’re right. But all the same, thanks for tonight. I needed to get my mind off of it.”

“I’m not done yet.” He pulled you in again. You stayed at the lake well into the night, refusing to want to leave Logan’s side.

The next morning, you were back at the school only this time you had Nick Fury, Phil Coulson, and Thing 1 and 2 (aka Nat and Clint) by your side. You were trying not to freak out as the Professor greeted your group before showing you the lecture hall you would be using.

“Hey, kid.” You jumped at Logan’s voice behind you. “Just breathe. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You nodded your head. “I know. But man, anything feels easier than this.”

“You’ll be great.” He kissed your temple before leaving with the Professor to sit at the back of the room.

Taking a deep breath, you made your way to the front of the room to stand behind the podium. You waited for everyone to find a seat and settle down before you pulled out your notes.

“Good morning. I’m ____ _____, and I’ll-” your voice stuck in your throat. You took another shaky breath and raised your eyes, first finding your teammates and then Logan. He gave you a smile and a small nod of his head. You returned the nod. “And I’m here to talk to you about the Avenger’s Initiative.”

#fanfic #fan fic #requests #request list #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #warriors #logan howlett #logan howlett x fem!reader #fem!reader #mutant!reader

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artyblogs · 4 years ago

Text

Best Wingman Ever

Read on Ao3

Summary: For @caruliaweek. Prompt: Surprise. After the fight in the pyramid, Julia doesn’t feel so hot, so she checks into a hospital. Carmen finds out and has concerns, so she goes to see her.

---

The longer the press conference goes on, the more discomfort Julia feels. It started in the pyramid, after Countess Cleo pushed her into that godforsaken pit, and she managed to catch the edge with her elbows. Her legs swung under her and something in her torso tore. Or broke. It certainly seemed like something snapped judging by the searing pain that lanced through her chest.

She was able to ignore the pain for the rest of the time they were in the pyramid, half because of the adrenaline coursing through her system, half because…well, it seemed pittance in the face of certain death. But now, in front of all these reporters, with the adrenaline draining from her body, the ache grows and grows until she sweats under her collar from the exertion of standing upright.

Every breath Julia takes is fire.

Either the reporters don’t notice what is happening, or they attribute Julia’s flush to the strong Egyptian sun, because they don’t ask what is wrong. They ask her if she will be heading the effort to catalogue all of these artifacts (she won’t be; all this treasure is technically on Egyptian soil, so it is up to the Egyptian government to come up with a plan), or if she will be working with Egyptologists and other archaeologists to catalogue them (again, that’s technically the jurisdiction of the Egyptian government. If invited, she’d help, but she needs to be invited).

Eventually, they have enough information for their segments, and Julia and Chase end the press conference and slink off towards the parking lot. Julia waits until they are out of earshot of the reporters, and far away enough to be indiscernible by the cameras, before she runs a cautious hand over her ribs.

It doesn’t seem like anything’s broken, but a simple swipe of her palm induces agony. Julia sinks to her knees.

“Miss Argent? What’s wrong?” Chase kneels next to her, his hands hovering, but not descending. He’s probably afraid of making things worse.

It feels like her chest is imploding. Julia tries to catch her breath, but cannot get any words out. Chase takes out his cell phone and dials a number.

“‘Allo? Please send an ambulance, there is an injured woman who needs help.”

---

Julia had hoped that she would be able to tough it out until she got back to the UK because at least there, she would have all of her identification. Here in this private hospital in Cairo, she has nothing. Besides the press conference and Chase, no one knows that she is here. The fact that a whole person could be disappeared like that, that she could be misplaced, is disquieting.

The walls of the hospital room muffle the car horns and loud voices in the street. If Julia closes her eyes, she can imagine that she is slowly sinking into sand, like so many forgotten baubles in the desert.

CLICK.

The door to her hospital room opens to reveal Chase, who carries a grease-stained paper bag and a cardboard drink tray with two paper cups.

“Miss Argent?”

“Agent Devineaux!” Julia tosses the thin, hospital blanket aside and—very, very carefully—sits up and unfolds her legs over the side of the hospital bed. In the back of her left hand there is taped an IV line, and she lightly pushes the IV rack a little to make room for him.

Chase gently closes the door behind him, then he takes the back of a visitor’s chair and drags it to her bedside. He places the tray of drinks on the side table next to a prescription bag, and holds out the greasy paper bag for Julia to open up.

Julia delves into it and finds two shawarma wraps carefully bundled in foil. “Which one is mine?”

“They are the same.”

Julia takes one of the wraps and opens it up, the foil shredding between her hands, and bites into it. The shawarma is a mess of sliced lamb and garlic and spices. Still hot. Smothered in yogurt and lemon juice. She had a similar shawarma years ago when she first visited Egypt during a field archaeology class, and she has been searching for a comparable place ever since.

Nothing has even come close. Julia licks a stray drop of yogurt from her thumb and takes another bite.

“They didn’t feed you, did they?”

Are her table manners that bad? Julia hesitates, then slowly shakes her head to agree. Chase frowns and unwraps his own shawarma. They eat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the muted noon adhan ring out across the city. Eventually, the food is done, and they crumple the foil into balls and toss them into the paper bag, and Chase holds out one of the drinks to Julia.

“Where is the medicine?” He asks.

“On the table. Can you get it?”

Chase opens the prescription bag and blanches. “Miss Argent, this is…eh….”

“It’s just one of each.” Julia chews on the straw and holds out her hand. “Do you mind?”

Thus begins an absurd process: Chase takes out a pill bottle, twists it open, and shakes a pill into Julia’s hand. Julia claps it into her mouth and takes a swig of water while Chase recaps the bottle and sets it aside on the side table.

They do this five times.

At last, Chase sets the empty bag next to the bottles and stares at the display ruefully. “Miss Argent?”

“Hmm?”

“What did they do to you?” He’s unusually subdued.

Julia’s ribs twinge. “I am an ancient historian, and VILE needed to decode ancient languages.”

Chase’s frown deepens. “I have taken similar pills for what I assume are similar kinds of injuries, Miss Argent. Please.”

“They were not nice people,” Julia finally says. She doesn’t…she cannot describe what happened, because to do so would require her to travel there in her mind.

“Miss Argent,” Chase says, now truly alarmed. It’s funny, in a way. A year ago, he would have probably given anything to shut her up and today, he can’t get her to say anything.

“I can describe what they looked like,” Julia says. She can do that, at least. Chase reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out his cell phone, which he unlocks and gives to her.

The screen is cracked. Julia gingerly taps and swipes to navigate to a specific face-generating app, and uses sliding scales to change the different attributes.

“How are you getting back to Oxford?” Chase asks.

“There’s a British embassy down the street; I’ll go there first thing tomorrow,’ Julia says.

“Not today?”

“The doctor wants to keep me here overnight for observation.”

Another pause. Chase’s nose wrinkles as he scowls.

“It’ll keep, Agent Devineaux.” Julia takes a screenshot and refreshes the app to create another face.

Chase makes a noise as he sinks in his chair. “I shall go with you to the embassy tomorrow.”

Julia looks up. “Really?”

“You should not be alone. We do not know where VILE escaped to. They could still be here in Egypt.”

Julia is legitimately moved. She didn’t think it was possible for him to act this way. “Thank you, Agent.”

“Pas de problème.” Chase stares moodily out the window, so Julia returns to the app.

The minutes pass, but somehow it’s not as bad as before. Julia is in the middle of creating the last face when the screen blacks out for a call. She hands the phone back to Chase.

“Zari is calling you.”

“Eh?” Chase looks quizzically down at the phone, then takes the call. “‘Allo? Ah, Agent Zari. I will not be back for another forty-eight hours at least. What?” He pauses to listen. “Wait, now? But Miss Argent needs a security detail!” Chase tries to say more, but the voice on the other end rises in volume. Eventually, Chase’s shoulders slump in defeat. “Yes, yes, I’ll be on the next flight.” The call ends.

He turns to her and he might look as miserable as Julia feels. “Miss Argent, I, er.”

“Duty calls.” She says despite the sinking feeling in her gut. “You have three of the four faces at least. I’ll go to the embassy tomorrow, and you’ll visit me in Oxford when this is all over.”

“But VILE.”

“Aside from you, no one knows…no one knows I’m here. That anonymity will shield me.”

Chase’s jaw clenches, and he nods. “Until then, Miss Argent.”

“Goodbye, Agent Devineaux.”

He turns and leaves the hospital room.

---

Carmen does one more sweep of the hotel room before she zips her duffle for the final time. She doesn’t usually pack a lot on capers, but it pays to be vigilant.

“How is Jules getting back to the UK? Is Devineaux arranging that for her?”

Player absently hums as he types. “Oh yeah. She wouldn’t have any passport or anything, huh? Because she was kidnapped?”

“I want to make sure she isn’t stranded in Egypt.”

“I’ll take a look. And I could whip something up for her if Devineaux doesn’t have anything in place. How does sharing a plane with your favorite Oxford professor sound to you?”

“Ha ha.” Carmen throws a phone charger into the duffel and zips it closed. “Being close to Jules might not be such a good idea. VILE kidnapped her because of me.”

“VILE knows and now ACME knows too. You might as well go for broke, Red.”

“Go for broke doing what, exactly?” Carmen asks. “Don’t say, ‘Jules.’”

Player laughs. “I’m trying to be a good wingman here!”

“Jules has students, and bills, and maybe even a cat, or something. She has a life outside of all of this and I ruined that when I went to see her.”

“How dare you say that to me when I heard what she said when you guys talked in her office. What was it she called you? One of her ‘two key interests?’”

The sheer audacity. “Player.”

“Carmen.” But Player gasps and whispers a curse.

“What is it?”

“Uh.” More typing. “Julia isn’t going anywhere. She’s—uh. She’s checked into a hospital.”

All the hair whooshes out of Carmen’s lungs. When she last saw Julia, she was awake. She was responsive. She was standing unaided. She was…she was in VILE’s custody for at least twenty-four hours at that point, that’s what she was. Julia walking around in the pyramid this morning? Seemingly bright-eyed and bushy tailed? That doesn’t mean a thing if she’s in the hospital now.

BEEP. Carmen’s phone receives notifications as Player pushes an update to it. Address, map, and a plane ticket for the rescheduled flight back to Seattle. She pulls the duffle strap over her head and strides out of the hotel room.

---

In case of emergency, Player allegedly has a list of hospitals that he will trust with the safety of Team Red. Allegedly, because Carmen’s never seen Player’s desktop. When he tells her that Julia’s been admitted to one of those hospitals, it does little to ease the raging unease within her. Carmen gently opens the door to the hospital room and peers inside.

The blinds are drawn against the afternoon sun. A privacy screen is pulled halfway across the room, obscuring the single bed in the room. There is no television monitor, and instead a oscillating fan sweeps back and forth on low.

Carmen steps into the room and softly closes the door behind her. She lowers her duffel to the floor and creeps closer. While she didn’t see any local police, or any police-looking types staking out this hospital, and while she didn’t see any VILE operatives either, it helps to be cautious. When she peeks around the curtain, however, she only sees Julia.

Her glasses and suit jacket are gone, and a hospital blanket has been drawn up to her chest, but it is her. Carmen steps around the curtain to her, and she holds a hand a little ways from her mouth.

There’s a soft breath against her palm, and Carmen almost cries in relief.

“Red? Did you find her?” Player asks.

“She’s asleep,” Carmen whispers.

“Ah.” And Player falls silent.

She’s also alone. There are no guards, or orderlies, or nurses. Devineaux is nowhere to be found. If VILE found out that Julia was here, there would be nothing to stop them from taking her again. Carmen sinks down into the visitor’s chair.

Let them come. She will be enough to stop them.

Julia seems smaller in sleep. Her brow is smoothed free of complex thought, and her lips are slightly parted. A sunbeam falls across her face, highlighting the freckles dusting her cheeks. Julia’s dark hair is disheveled from the pillow, and her front fringe falls over her eyes. Carmen makes as it to smooth it away, but falters and instead, she pinches the hinges of Julia’s glasses and delicately lifts them from her face. She folds them, and starts looking for the rest of Julia’s things.

She finds pill bottles instead, lined up like soldiers at the back of the side table.

“Player?”

“Yeah?”

“When you found Jules’ file, it was bad, wasn’t it?” Carmen whispers.

“I didn’t look very long, because I didn’t want to snoop, but from what I did see? It wasn’t good.” He leans back from the mic and shouts something, then when he returns, he says, “I gotta go eat breakfast. Will you be okay for a minute?”

“Yeah. Go.” Carmen continues searching. She finds the rest of Julia’s things in a drawer in the side table. At the bottom are Julia’s shoes, over which is her suit jacket—carefully folded—and over that is her pendant. Carmen puts the glasses down beside the pendant and closes the drawer.

Julia wakes with a start. She gives a weak cry, and her feet kick out against the blanket. When she settles back down, she also puts a hand over her eyes.

“Jules?”

“Carmen?” Julia’s voice comes out strained and broken. Her hand cannot hide the furrow of her brow, nor can it hide the stuttering gasps she takes in a poor attempt to calm down.

“Surprise,” Carmen whispers. She holds her hand, the one with the IV line stuck into it, and Julia holds on tight. So tight that it might break her fingers and some dark part of Carmen thinks that she might deserve it. But it doesn’t last. Eventually, Julia’s breathing evens out, and her body relaxes against the bed, and her grip loosens, but she doesn’t let go. Julia drops her other hand to reveal red eyes.

She clears her throat. “How did you find me?”

It is so casual that it throws Carmen off. Are they really not going to discuss Julia’s state from not even a minute ago? But Julia looks at her expectantly, so she says, “Player found you. I was worried.”

“Thank you. I didn’t think….” Julia’s face screws up. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t. Jules, I am so sorry. VILE was never supposed to get a hold of you.”

“I’m not sorry,” Julia whispers. She winces as she eases up on the bed, and Carmen wants to help her, but doesn’t know how. Julia manages to sit upright anyway.

“You needed help. Was I supposed to say ’no?’” Julia asks. She even manages a half smile. “This was not your fault,” she says as she gestures to herself.

“They kidnapped you because of me.”

“Absurd. I mean, yes, they did. But that still wasn’t your fault. You might as well rage against an earthquake for bringing down a building, or at lightning for striking a tower. Criminal syndicates kidnap people; that’s just what they do. If not me, then it would have been some other poor sod.”

“Jules.”

“I mean it, Carmen. Don’t blame yourself for this.”

When Julia says it like that, Carmen might be able to believe it. “How bad is it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

The bridge of Julia’s nose wrinkles, so Carmen asks instead, “What happened?”

“I said ‘no.’ The taller woman—they called her ‘Countess Cleo’—she said that she would only ask for my services once. So I said ’no.’” Her brows furrow again and she bows her head, casting shadows on her face. “Those two men, Vlad and Boris, they were very persuasive. And I tried, I really, really tried. But I couldn’t.” Julia trails off and when she looks up again, her eyes are glassy. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

The idea that Julia should ever think of herself deficient in any way, that she could be convinced that that was the case, is so painful that Carmen’s heart could break. It is also equally vexing, because it is clearly untrue. The boldest lies that Carmen has ever heard.

“How could you apologize for being so brave?” Carmen asks.

“I’m supposed to be a former secret agent.”

“And? I don’t care about some arbitrary threshold of toughness. I’m just glad that you’re alive.”

Julia smiles and stares down at their clasped hands. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too. Not that I’m in a rush, but the longer you’re here, the more dangerous it is for you. When are you getting discharged?”

“Next morning at the earliest. The doctors want to keep me overnight for observation.”

“So it’s that bad.”

“Carmen….”

But Carmen gestures to the pill bottles. “Jules. Come on. How bad is it?”

Julia sighs. “Hairline fractures in my fibs, and some minor internal bleeding.”

She mumbles this last part, but Carmen catches it anyway. Cold horror washes through her body. “Internal bleeding?”

“Minor internal bleeding. Carmen, don’t feel bad, or we’ll be going in circles all day.”

On the contrary. Carmen’s horror ignites into hot, unbridled rage, and she leaps out of her chair and starts pacing up and down the tiny room.

“Carmen?”

“They are never touching you again. Never again.” Carmen pauses just long enough to say before she continues to pace. Julia face softens a bit.

The door creaks open, and Carmen whirls around and grabs an extra chair. It’s one of those mass-produced plastic and wire things, light enough to throw across the room if needed. Julia too, falls silent.

But an orderly pokes their head in. “Visiting hours are over,” they says in Arabic. “Miss Santa Rosa, you must leave now.”

“No, no, she can stay,” someone else says from behind him. It sounds like the nurse who was manning the reception desk. “She’s her fiance. It’s in the file.”

“Eh? Okay.” The orderly turns back to them. “Have a good night.”

The door closes again.

The chair slips from Carmen’s nerveless fingers. On the bed, Julia turns away, her face and ears a brilliant red.

“You understood that,” Carmen says. It isn’t a question.

Julia, unable to speak, nods her head.

“Player, did you do that?” Carmen asks. Her earrings crackle to life.

“Do what?”

“The fiance thing.”

He chuckles. Actually chuckles. “Best wingman ever.”

Oh no. Carmen is going to die. She is going to shrivel up from mortification. What must Julia think? At the very least, she must think that Carmen’s such a creep.

“Do you want me to change it back?”

“You’ve done enough.”

Player chuckles again, this time with a darker tone. “So that’s a ‘no.’”

“Goodnight, Player.” And with that, Carmen taps her earring to mute.

“You can leave if you need to. You must be terribly busy,” Julia says.

“Never too busy for you,” Carmen says, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she can think too much about it. Julia flushes all over again.

---

Julia gasps awake, the ache in her ribs stealing her breath. Her left hand is clasped tight in Carmen’s, a lifeline tethering her to this this plane of existence.

She fell asleep.

They were talking. About anything and everything. One of those meandering conversations that are pointless, yet profound. Carmen is endlessly fascinating, of course. Julia couldn’t help but hang on her every word. When it was her turn to share, she tried her best to be as interesting, but she couldn’t help but feel so incredibly mundane. Carmen’s rapt attention must have been a facade done out of politeness, because there is no way that she could be just as interested in Julia. Carmen was just being kind.

They were just talking, and then the meds took over and she fell asleep.

“I’m right here, Jules.” Carmen’s worried face swims into focus and the bed dips as she sits next to her. The room is dark, save for a single nightlight plugged into a nearby outlet.

“Was it a nightmare?” Carmen asks.

“The pain from my ribs must be tricking my mind. Every time I go to sleep, I go right back to that safe house,” Julia whispers.

“What about a distraction?” Carmen asks. “If you felt something else, would that help?”

They both look at their hands. They’re still holding onto each other, with Carmen’s thumb gently pressing against Julia’s pale knuckle.

“It does seem to help,” Julia says. Somehow, realigning herself with reality is easier with Carmen around. Carmen’s brow furrows in thought, then she nods, as if making a decision.

“Okay, scoot.”

It takes Julia a moment to understand what Carmen means to do, and when she finally does figure it out, she briefly considers saying ‘no’ before the thought is immediately smothered without mercy. Perhaps it’s because Julia almost died this morning, or perhaps it’s because of the heady cocktail of medications currently running through her system. At any rate, Julia doesn’t say ’no.’

She scoots.

It takes a little maneuvering—Julia’s IV line has enough slack, but they don’t want to pinch it shut—and they take care to not jab elbows and knees, and the bed is already so narrow, but they manage it in the end. They end up facing each other, with Julia’s head cradled between Carmen’s arms, and their legs tangled together. Julia’s fingers curl in the belt of Carmen’s romper.

Carmen runs hot. The heat of her arm thrums against Julia’s ear. Her gray eyes are also very close. The distance between them is so negligible that if Julia were to move just a couple inches forward….

Well.

“Go to sleep,” Carmen whispers, her breath ghosting against Julia’s face. “I’ll be here.”

Julia closes her eyes and goes to sleep.

---

“Red.”

Carmen’s earrings turn on, and Player’s voice cuts through the still night.

“Red, wake up.”

Julia is still asleep. Carmen’s arm is getting a little numb, but hell, Julia can have it. She rolls away a little, not enough to disturb Julia, but just enough so that she can talk to Player without speaking directly into her face.

“What time is it?” She whispers.

“About one AM your time.” Player also lowers his voice to match hers, even though he’s a little speaker in her ear. “The Seattle base got torched.”

“What?”

“VILE destroyed it. They burned everything. And then in Oxford, another team torched Julia’s apartment and blew up her car. They blew it up, Red!”

Beside her, Julia stirs. “Wusrong?” She slurs.

Carmen’s heart sinks. “I’m so sorry, Jules.”

“This again? We talked about this, Carmen.” Julia’s sleepy expression melts away when Carmen doesn’t answer.

Carmen gently removes her arm from under Julia’s head, then maneuvers so that she doesn’t crush her, but she’s able to brace herself over her and align her head over hers so that she can also hear.

“Player? Explain.”

He explains. Julia tenses beneath her, and her hands tighten in Carmen’s clothes the longer he goes on.

“VILE must have wanted to retaliate, but when they couldn’t find either of you, they did the next best thing,” Player says.

“Phone,” Carmen says. She rolls off the bed and goes to her duffel bag. She takes out her phone and swipes across the screen to answer Player’s call. He appears on the screen, and she tosses the phone onto the foot of the bed. Julia sits up and leans over the phone.

“Player?”

It must be early evening where Player is, but it’s always difficult to discern anything with how dark his room is. He must have blackout curtains or something.

“I’ve got Carmen’s plane ticket sorted out, and I was gonna get you on a plane to Oxford, Julia, but I’m not sure I should do that anymore.”

Carmen slips on her shoes and ties the laces. “Put us on the same plane.”

“What?” Player asks.

“You were right about VILE and ACME. Jules isn’t safe as a civilian anymore, so she’s coming with me.” Finished, Carmen stands up and regards Julia, who has her hands over her eyes again.

“Jules?”

“Jay?” Player asks, slightly muffled from the hospital blanket.

“I placed my students’ papers on the coffee table. They were just there in bundles, because I meant to grade them. And there were plant clippings on the windowsill…I was growing them in jam jars.” Julia’s hand moves to cover her mouth, and she stares into the distance. “Gone.”

Player looks down at his keyboard. Carmen’s heart sinks in her chest. She did this. Julia lost everything because of her. Because she asked for her help, and this is how she’s rewarded.

“I’ve only lived in Oxford for half a year, but that flat was mine, and I….” But Julia stops and turns to the side table. She pulls open the drawer and there, nestled in the folds of her suit jacket, is her pendant. It glitters in the low light, and she lifts it out, the chain draping between her fingers.

“I was wrong,” Julia whispers. She slips her glasses back on and she stares very hard at the pendant.

“Jules?”

“Everything I need is right here. Everything else is replaceable.”

Player’s jaw drops, and he and Carmen share a look. “Just like that?”

“Sometimes it really is that simple. Don’t mistake me; it will be awful to replace everything when the time comes, but the fact is that they can be replaced. And I have insurance. My class will be fine. My students will be fine.” Julia unclasps the chain and tries—and fails—to put it on. She looks up at Carmen. “Do you mind?”

Carmen takes the ends of the chain and carefully clips it around Julia’s neck. Her fingertips graze her nape as she pulls away, and Julia catches her wrist.

“I won’t be put in a safe house. If I’m coming, I’ll be useful,” Julia whispers.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Carmen says. Julia smiles up at her.

“Plane’ll be ready in an hour,” Player says. The call ends, and Carmen slips the phone into her pocket.

“Then we shouldn’t waste time.” Carmen unhooks Julia from the IV and helps her shrug on her jacket. Julia slips her shoes on, and after picking up the duffle and the meds, the both of them vanish into the night.

Show it some love on Ao3!

#caruliaweek #carmen sandiego #julia argent #carulia #julethief #carjules #carmen x julia #my writing #fanfiction

36 notes · View notes

everybodyscupoftea · 4 years ago

Text

chemistry

isaac lahey x reader

isaac needs help in chemistry and you need help in english - the beginning

this is for isaac anon and the few people that wanted this. i’m just dabbling here, so let me know if you guys want more! (i did quite a bit of Research for this and i have ideas)

also let me know, i left it vague, but if i expand i’m probably going to add in scott, stiles, allison, and lydia. would you guys like to keep it supernatural or do full au where they’re just normal college students?

You noticed the boy in your Intro to Academic Writing course, but you didn’t really focus on him, mostly due to freshman year stress, until he sat down next to you in General Chemistry. Stepping into the classroom you’d felt at ease, science was your jam, but the really cute boy put you back on edge. You felt hyperaware of him, his scent, kind of cinnamon-y, fall-esque.

He tapped his fingers on his notebook, and you couldn’t help but notice he wrote in green pen. You glanced every so often to see him doodling in the corner of the page instead of taking notes on the intro lesson on the scientific method that your professor was doing.

The boy rested his chin on his hand and his fingers went from tapping on the notebook to his jaw and you shook your head, trying to focus back on the professor who was talking about your lab groups.

“The people at your table are in your group. Lab is on Wednesday nights, I won’t be the instructor, you’ll have a TA, but you can email me or come to my office hours if you have any questions about what’s going on. I’ll see you all on Thursday.”

You started to pack your stuff and the boy turned to you with a crooked grin, “I’m Isaac.”

Shaking his hand, you introduced yourself and he stood, waiting for you to finish packing your stuff. You zipped your booksack, “You’re in my English class, right?” you asked, faking as if you didn’t notice him as soon as you stepped into the door.

He nodded, “Yeah, with Dr. Terranova.”

“He seems,” you trailed off, looking for the right word, “interesting.”

Isaac grinned, “You mean overwhelmingly picky for an English 101 professor?”

“That’s a great way to put it,” you told him, laughing.

The two of you walked out the door and down the hall together. Isaac shifted his booksack on his shoulders a little and asked, “Do you have any more classes today?”

“Calculus,” you told him and he grimaced.

“Fuck that.”

“You?”

He nodded, “Spanish.”

Unfortunately for you, the buildings were on opposite ends of campus, so you paused just outside the door to the chemistry building. Isaac paused too and smiled, “See you tomorrow night?”

“See you tomorrow, Isaac.”

Your lab group was made up of two boys and two girls. Isaac, Andrew, Abigail, and you. Out of the group, you were the only STEM major, and the only one who actually liked chemistry. Isaac patted your shoulder, “Well, that officially makes you team captain then.”

“Thank god,” Abigail added, “I’m an advertising major, my brain noped out of the sciences years ago.”

The other guy, Andrew, said, “I took Chem 2 in high school and didn’t pass the AP exam, chemistry and I have beef.”

You snorted and said, “Cool, well, I’ll try and lead us to the promised land.” They seemed to like that.

Your group was really smart, everyone was picking up the labs really easily and you were thrilled, especially when the teacher stood in front of the class after the first test review. She clapped her hands once, “Okay, the lab group with the highest combined test average gets five bonus points added to their test scores. This is me trying to get you guys familiar with study groups, especially if you’re going to be in STEM, which I know some of you are. Study groups got me through school.”

Unfortunately, everyone in your lab group already had stuff going on, so you couldn’t study with them. Fortunately, the test was on intro stuff like the scientific method, conversions, and balancing equations, and your group hadn’t had any issues in any of the lab work, so you weren’t worried.

But when you got the test back, you realized, maybe you should’ve been. Isaac got his handed back first and actually laughed when he looked at the grade. Before you could ask, the professor set yours down on the desk and you started flipping through it, frowning at the little points you’d had taken off for careless mistakes.

“Fuck,” you muttered, “should’ve gotten at least a 97.”

“Wow, can’t believe you fucked it up for the whole group,” Isaac sarcastically responded, nudging you with his elbow, before sliding his test on top of yours. He nudged you again, “As you can see, I’m carrying the team,” and he motioned toward the D written in bright red at the top of his paper.

Your mouth dropped open and you picked the test up, flipping through to see what he’d missed. Eyebrows furrowed, you looked over at him, “You should tell her you accidentally skipped the back page.”

“Oh, it wasn’t an accident, I just didn’t know how to do it.”

“Well,” you stuttered, “it was the same stuff we did in the last lab activity.”

Isaac nodded, “Yes it is, and I didn’t understand it then either.”

“I thought,” you paused, mind racing, “I thought we all did?”

He grinned at you, “Some of us aren’t science brains, my friend.”

“What are you?” you asked as the class started to pack up.

With a soft smile, he threw his booksack over his shoulder, “I’m a literature major.”

You didn’t mean to think about it as much as you did, but when 2 a.m. rolled around and you were at your most impulsive you couldn’t stop yourself from sending out a text.

Hey, do you maybe want to meet up and study sometime?

After hitting send you could’ve slammed your head into a wall. You locked your phone and put your head in your hands, “God damnit.” And then your phone dinged.

I’d love that, love to have a STEM genius in my corner.

Your cheeks heated as you read it and your mind raced with your heart. It was beating harder and part of you couldn’t even believe he’d said yes. Taking a breath to steady yourself, you responded.

Idk about genius but I’m not half bad at chem

He responded, even faster than the first time and you grinned, unable to stop it from overtaking your face.

I may not know much about the scientific method or whatever, but all evidence suggests otherwise, genius

The next test wasn’t for a few weeks, but Isaac wanted to start studying earlier. He suggested meeting at a coffee shop called The Beanery. Coffee shops weren’t really your jam, you liked the silence of the fourth floor of the library. Go early, get a table, put in head phones, and go to work. But, you were open to try Isaac’s suggestion.

It was brightly lit when you walked in, and he was already there, at a table in the corner, laptop out. Books were spread across the tabletop, and he already had two empty mugs on the table in front of him, leg bouncing as he aimlessly chewed on a pen.

Shaking yourself out of staring, you walked to the counter to order. Isaac smiled up at you when you made it to the table with your coffee.

“Welcome,” he told you, moving some of his books out of the way. Sitting up straighter, Isaac glanced around, “What do you think about this place?”

“It’s nice, definitely a change of pace from my norm.”

“Where’s that then?”

“Library, fourth floor.”

“Quiet up there, huh?”

“Yeah, but I listen to some music for background.”

“I like coffee shops,” Isaac said, closing his laptop, “the vibes are nice and my clothes always smell like coffee afterward which is a fun bonus.”

At his comment, you looked down at his clothes. You were a little surprised to see that he was dressed just like during the week: jeans, a nicer t-shirt, and a cardigan. You’d wondered, deep down, if he dressed nicer for class, but it didn’t seem the case. Isaac cleared his throat and your eyes snapped to his face, ears burning when you saw him staring at you in amusement.

Coughing quietly, you reached for your booksack, “So, chemistry. Do you understand what we’ve been going over?”

“I know they’re called Bohr models but I don’t know anything else about them.”

“Right, so,” you paused a minute, trying to figure out where to start, “it’s a way to draw an atom and it’s kind of like a planet.”

Isaac leaned forward through your explanation, resting most of his weight on his elbows, and tapped the green pen against his lower lip. Every so often he’d ask a question, shift a little and write something down in his notebook by whatever he’d scribbled in class. His questions were shockingly insightful, and you eagerly answered them all.

By the time you’d gotten through the basics of thermodynamics, he’d added a whole page of notes, and you could tell he was starting to lose interest. Shutting your notebook, you told him, earnestly, “I hope this helped a little.”

“I promise,” he looked you straight in the eye, “it makes sense. This all looked like a foreign language before we met up.”

“Good,” you nodded, “this is my jam.”

“Keep on spreading it,” he joked and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well,” you admitted, “you may not be good at chem but you’d kick my ass into next week in English.”

“How’s your paper going?” Isaac asked, leaning back and crossing his arms, looking genuinely interested.

“It’s…going.”

He snorted, “That doesn’t sound promising.”

“Yeah neither does my thesis.”

“Do you have your laptop?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me have a look,” he suggested.

Pulling up the word doc, you passed your laptop over, staring down at your hands, twiddling your thumbs, a little nervously, as he read through your rough draft.

“What did Dr. Terranova have to say in your conference?” he asked, pushing your laptop away.

You sighed, “He was less than complimentary.”

Isaac laughed, “It’s not that bad, but it could use some polishing. I can help of course.”

Relief washed over you and you felt a weight off your shoulders, “That would be incredible actually.”

“There, now we’re even. You tutor me in chemistry and I’ll make sure you pass English, starting with this rough, and emphasis on rough, draft.”

Reaching across the table, you shoved at his hand, “Be gentle.”

“I’m going to get another chai,” he said, standing to stretch a bit, “and you pick out what sentence exactly you think is your thesis. We’ll start there.”

Biting your lip to conceal a grin, you nodded, waking your laptop back up.

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey fanfiction #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #college isaac

139 notes · View notes

mummybear · 5 years ago

Text

Yes Miss

This Is Day 2 Of RolePlay May

Words: 5506

Warnings: Smut, Sub Dean, Younger Dean, Young Dom Teacher Reader, Detention, Good Boy Talk (Praise Kink), Oral Female and Male Receiving, Back Scratching, Hair Pulling, Orgasm Control, Think That’s It

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Several Douche Friends, Castiel

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summery: Dean Winchester is the cocky jock in school, who winds all of the teachers up to breaking point. However, he doesn’t have quite the same effect on the teaching assistant who takes over for the day. She make sure she shows him just how much of a good boy he can be.

Being a teaching assistant at your old school had proved to be very rewarding in the short time you’d been doing it. You were working beside the best professor in the entire building, at least in your opinion. There were a couple of older kids in the class, who had either been held back or who had decided to do an extra year, they had proved to be a challenge. They always pushed you more, since you weren’t much older than them.

Unfortunately since Mr. Turner wasn’t in today, he was away on a teaching conference, you were left in charge.

But of all of them the worst by far, was Dean Winchester. He was new here, not that it had stopped him from becoming popular and very quickly. He came across cocky, self assured, in complete control of everyone and everything, almost like he didn’t have a care in the world.

But you could see the truth.

Walking into the classroom you called for quiet. The chattering noise died down a little when you stood in front of your desk, looking around the room. All except for the older kids, who thought that they were above everyone, including you.

“Quiet” you called again, louder this time, walking through the lines of desks that were placed around the room, heels clicking with every step you took.

You stopped in your tracks, hearing a snicker of laughter to your right, arching your eyebrow you folded your arms against your chest. Looking down at the main cluster of ‘problem’ students, you cleared your throat. “I’m sorry, is something funny?

“No need to shout sweetheart, we’re just having a conversation” Dean pipes up suddenly, looking up at you with those big green eyes, chin resting on the heel of his hand he smirks.

You scoff a laugh, “Excuse me. Did you just sweetheart me?”

Dean shrugs, a smirk curling his lips. “Yeah, why?” he asks matter of factly. “You look pretty damn sweet” he adds, licking those smirking lips.

“Well, Mr Winchester, lets see how sweet you find this. I will see you in detention when school finishes,” you reply as sternly as possible.

Watching that smirk disappear, enjoying the nervous swallow that follows.

“You’re kidding right?” he all but stutters, green eyes now wide with complete and utter shock.

“Oh no. I’m deadly serious. You will attend your detention on time and hopefully you’ll learn who’s in charge. Or I will have you back, again and again until you learn” you reply smugly, walking away with an extra swing in your hips, ignoring the snickers from his friends as he tells them to shut it, you lean back against your desk.

“Anyone else?” you question with a smile, the entire class shakes their heads, almost in sync, looking down at their work books waiting for you to start. But you don’t miss the glare that you’re still receiving from Dean.

“Okay, brilliant. Then let’s start shall we!”

Luckily the class goes well after that, with very few unwanted interruptions. But you could still practically feel Dean glaring at you from across the room. The bell rings informing everyone it’s time for their next lesson, you luckily have a free lesson next, so you’re not in any rush. As usual, the first row of students are also the first to leave, eager to get to their next classes and not be late.

“Mr. Winchester, could I see you for a moment before you leave, please”

“Yes miss,” he grumbles, his friends shove at his shoulders, laughing as they make jokes about how much trouble he’s in and of course, making sure to wish him a sarcastic good look as they leave the classroom.

The room is silent, except for the shuffle of Dean packing his stuff away and the click clack of your heels against the tiled floor. You lean on the desk table, the one opposite his, which hitches your black pencil skirt higher on your thighs.

You notice that Dean has paused and his gaze lingers on your legs. You clear your throat causing Dean’s focus to shift, finally looking back at your face. He licks his lips but has the decency to blush about the fact he’s been openly looking at you. You can’t help but smile at how embarrassed he looks, it’s so cute.

“I just wanted to let you know, my detention will be two hours long. So if you had any plans you may want to cancel them” you explain.

Upon hearing his grumble of annoyance you walk to stand in front of his desk, placing your hands on the top, you lean forward and his eyes lock on yours immediately.

“Look, you’re hot okay. I had to try it” he shrugs, looking suddenly very smug again. You notice he’s not looking at you anymore, he’s looking out the classroom door, over your shoulder.

You walk away from him and over to the door.

“Would you all like a detention for being late to your next classes?” you question sternly, noticing the way they all look between one another.

“Whatever, don’t be such a ball buster” he huffs as he walks away, his remaining friends following behind him.

You turn to Dean closing the door behind you, finding him now standing, leaning against your desk. You take the papers that he’d snagged from your desk out of his hand, dropping them back onto the table top.

Dean watches you closely, the smirk now gone from his plump lips once more. “Your bad boy routine may work on your friends Dean, but it’s not gonna work on me. Clearly I need to pay you a little extra attention from now on”

His mouth opens and closes a few times, like he’s trying to figure out what to say in reply.

“What does that mean?” he asks nervously, as you come to stand right in front of him.

“It means that you need to learn how to behave yourself in my classroom, because I won’t put up with it. Just because we’re close in age, please understand me here. I’m in charge, not you. Trust me, after today you’ll do as you’re told. Is that clear?” you explain firmly, watching the way his breathing seems to increase with every word.

“Yes m-miss” he practically stutters, eyes casting down suddenly.

‘Oh there he is’ you think to yourself, seeing the way Dean’s responding to your words.

“Good boy” you practically purr, smiling when he looks back up at you quickly, his pupils blown wider. You hear him groan a curse under his breath, which makes you even more confident you’d been right.

“You’re smart Dean, those guys who you call friends, they don’t know it. You hide it well when you act like such an ass” you tell him honestly, leaning over him you grab the form you’d written for him, you hear him suck in a breath when your body brushes against his.

You hand him the paper which explains that it was your fault that he was late.

“I-uh thanks” he manages to get out, taking the paper from your hand, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and leaves the room, not waiting for a reply.

The rest of your day goes fairly well, with the small exception of having the older people in the classes still acting up, but nothing compared to what you’d had to deal with earlier that day. With your last class of the day leaving you busy yourself with tidying up the classroom, sending Mr. Turner a quick message to let him know your day had gone well. Just as you close your laptop there’s a quiet knock at the classroom door.

“Come in” you call out, tossing the last of the trash in the bin.

You turn to find Dean entering quietly, until he notices you looking at him. “Um, hi miss. Should I just sit down?” he questions quietly, nodding to the chair he’d been sitting in earlier.

“Actually Dean, would you mind if we went into my office?” you ask him gently, but it’s not really a question, you’re already walking towards your office with Dean trailing behind you.

Walking inside you wait for Dean to follow you in, before closing the door behind the two of you. You watch as he shrugs off his bag and drops it down by the door, “Take a seat” you smile softly, nodding towards the chair that sits a little way back from your desk.

Dean takes the seat rather quickly, dragging his hands up and down his thighs as he looks up at you expectantly. Leaning down, you rest your hands on the arm rests of his chair, studying the way he shifts under your gaze. The bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, his lips part as he licks them slowly.

“Why don’t you pay attention in class Dean?” you ask him quietly, fingers tightening around the arms of the chair.

He looks taken aback for a moment as he stares up at you, fingers tightening around his thighs.

“I-I don’t know, miss. I’m-” he starts to mutter a reply but falls short as your legs press against his knees, he lets them fall open, allowing you to step between them.

“You wanna know what I think?” you ask as your face edges just a little closer to his, he tries to push up higher in his chair as he nods eagerly, green eyes now a much darker shade than before. You hum with a smile, pulling back you step away from him, enjoying the way he slumps back down in the chair slightly.

Your fingers skim along his arm and up his shoulder as you circle him, finally coming to a stop behind him. Leaning in close enough for your breath to ghost over his ear you speak again.

“I think you act like you’re in control, like you’re the typical cocky jock, the bad boy that every girl wants. When in reality you’re a good boy, who likes being controlled, you need someone to look after you. You crave it don’t you?”

Pausing for a second, you let the words sink in, revelling in the way he’s starting to lean further back with your every word. Not missing the way his breathing has increased, or the way he’s clenching his jaw, trying to hold back the noises he wants to make.

When he doesn’t speak though you move in closer, letting your lips brush against his earlobe. Dean leans into your touch when your hand pushes through the back of his hair, reaching the top of his head. You grip his hair between your fingers, using it to tug his head to the side harshly, finally pulling a moan from those perfect lips.

“Now, I asked you a question Dean, if I was wrong about you being a good boy, then you can always leave, any time you want in fact. You only have to ask, tell me you want out” you explain releasing his hair, walking back around his body to face him. You barely have time to lean back against your desk before he’s shaking his head at you.

“No, miss. Please, I’ll be good” he rushes out, with eyes wide and his fingers wrapped tightly around the arms of the chair he’s sitting on.

The smile spreading across your lips seems to egg him on even more.

“You were right. I need it,” he adds quickly, looking up at you with those big green pleading eyes.

Leaning back on your desk you push the paperwork to the side, noticing the obvious and rather impressive bulge in his pants.

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you tell me what you need, Dean?” you ask seductively as you remove your jacket and drop it to the floor.

You can tell how nervous he is as he clears his throat, voice shaking as he speaks.

“I really wanna kiss you, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since this morning”

You hold on your hand out to him with a soft reassuring smile on your lips. Dean’s chewing on his lip still looking up at you like a lost puppy, but he’s also trying to hide his slight smile.

Finally he reaches out with his big hand and takes your much smaller one. Taking a step away from the chair he’s standing right in front of you, releasing his hand, you place it on your hip, feeling his fingers flex against your soft white t-shirt before gripping your waist tightly.

Running your hands over his crisp white shirt, up his surprisingly strong chest, gently you pry his plump bottom lip from between his teeth and cup his freckled cheeks.

“Come here” you tell him softly, rising up on your tiptoes as you pull his face down closer to you.

The first time your lips touch, it’s a light brush of your lips against his, they’re so soft and feel so good, that you let his other hand land on your waist. When he steps between your legs to pull you closer, your lips press against his again, a little firmer this time, more insistent. Your tongue carefully strokes over his bottom lip before you suck it into your mouth, pulling a desperate whimper from Dean when you drag your teeth along it and release it.

That helpless whimper does things to you immediately, you can even feel the slick beginning to gather in your panties. Standing quickly, you push Dean back gently, turning both of you so that Dean is pressed back against your desk. Your tongue brushes over his, he doesn’t even try to fight you for dominance, he lets you control the kiss, your tongues in perfect sync with one another.

Pulling away from his mouth his lips follow yours, eyes still closed and lips parted ever so slightly. A blush forms on those freckled cheeks when his eyes flicker open, finding you smiling up at him.

“Wow” he breathes out suddenly, making you smile as you start to unbutton your shirt.

You pause trying to meet those lust blown eyes, hearing his deep moan, realising that his eyes are focused on your hands.

“Want me to stop, baby? We don’t have to go too far, not until you're ready” you ask tentatively and he finally meets your eyes.

“What? No! Don’t you d-” he stops quickly, realising his mistake with your change in demeanour as you step back from him, crossing your arms over your chest.

Your giggle clearly surprises him, but there's no humour in it.

He’s eyeing you carefully when your fingers wrap around the neck of his shirt, gently turning him and pushing him back into his chair. He swallows hard, closely watching your every move.

“Oh sweety, that’s just adorable, really. Did you forget who’s in charge here already?” you question with a warning edge to your voice.

“No miss. I’m sorry” he tells you quietly but very quickly, focusing on his shoes, suddenly finding them very interesting.

Humming in approval you continue to unbutton your shirt.

“Good boy. Now, look at me again baby” your voice remains quiet and seductive, as he looks up at you and a low moan leaves his throat. Dropping your shirt to the floor, you crook your finger at him. “You like what you see Dean?”

Dean stands as you’d instructed, “I….I fuck. You look incredible” he stutters about to reach out and touch you, but he decides against it, dropping it back on his thigh. Walking around him slowly, you can see his body tense with expectation.

He turns finally when you clear your throat, where he finds you sitting down.

“Now, strip” you state playfully, but there’s still that authoritative tone to your voice.

“I uh, wait. What?” his stuttered confusion is completely adorable and your smile quickly turns into a smirk.

Leaning forward in your chair you reach out, running your hand slowly from his knee up his inner thigh. Dean stumbles towards you, clenching his fists at his sides when your fingers skim past the bulge, instead hooking into the top of his pants, where you tug him forwards.

“No more touching baby, not until you strip for me”

Relaxing back in the chair you watch as Dean sighs, fingers moving back to his shirt and he starts unbuttoning it. Revealing that smooth tanned and freckled skin that lies beneath. He tosses the shirt away and you can’t help but bite your lip, you’d called him a jock for a reason, but being on that damn football team had its advantages.

He was toned, but not overly so, like a lot of the team were. He was down right fucking perfect, just as you’d expected he would be.

Kicking off his shoes, Dean’s hands go to his belt, the metal clangs and the leather slaps as he unbuckles it. You eagerly watch as he pops the button open on his trousers, then he pulls the zipper down.

“Mmm, look at you” you murmur appreciatively as he kicks his pants away.

He blushes even harder when he hears you, his cheeks almost bright red, spreading down his neck, and up to the tips of his ears.

“Do you want me to take these off too?” he asks almost shyly, hooking his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his tight fitting black boxers.

Standing from the chair once more you begin circling him, fingers lightly dancing across his skin with every step.

“Being such a good boy for me baby” you praise him, carefully dragging your nails across his skin, feeling him shiver as you come to stand in front of him. “So polite-” you pause to drag your nails up his inner thighs ripping a whimpering noise from his throat. “-unlike earlier. It looks like you might be learning your lesson. So yes, take them off for me”

Your praise has the desired effect and he’s unable to hide his smile.

“Thank you, miss,” he replies white teeth biting back his smile.

You step back to watch as he pulls the boxers down over his firm ass and lean hips and kicks them off to the side. Your eyes scan over his body appreciatively, taking in the sheer size of him, so well proportioned everywhere.

Licking your lips you walk behind him, giving his ass a slap watching him jerk forward, a moan slipping past those plump lips. Your hands slide over his hips, one of your small hands wrapping around his thick length.

“Is this why you act so cocky, Dean?” you purr pumping his thick length in your hand.

“Fuck Y/N” he grunts loosing himself in the sensations.

“Does that feel good baby?” you ask hotly, pressing your front tight against his back.

“Oh god, so good. T-Thank you” he stutters through a moan, you slap his hip with your free hand when they start to thrust, trying to fuck into your hand.

“Stop being greedy, take what you’re given,” you warn him gently, your free hand moves to cup his balls and he groans loudly, nearly falling over his feet when he stumbles forwards.

“Sorry miss, I’ll be good. Can I touch you, please?” he pants as his hands finally find purchase on the windowsill to keep himself steady.

Your hands fall away from his cock and you turn him to face you, he looks worried that he’s done something wrong until you smile up at him.

“Kiss me and take this off” you instruct him, grabbing his hand, you rest it on the zipper of your skirt.

The words are barely out of your mouth before his lips are pressed against yours, this kiss is nothing like before, gone is the shy unsure boy, this one is eager to please and give you everything you want.

It doesn’t take long for your skirt to fall loose, dropping to your feet. Your fingers grip his hair harshly as your tongues meet and Dean melts against you.

When you finally pull away from his lips you're both gasping for breath, “Desk Dean, now!” you practically growl, doing your best to keep yourself in check, not let your control drop, you can tell how badly he needs this.

Dean’s big hands hook behind your knees as your arms wrap around his neck, he carries you quickly to your desk, brushing his lips over yours as he moves.

“You hungry baby boy?” you purr against his ear, as you ass hits your desk.

“Starving, Miss. Fuck, Please,” Dean begs hands resting on his thighs, blunt nails clearly digging into his muscles while he looks up at you. You’re unable to stop the groan that leaves your lips at his desperate pleas and the look on his beautiful face, which makes your panties dampen further.

Fingers tightening in Dean’s thick hair, you tug his head back harshly. Smiling at that pained whimper that leaves his lips, running the tip of your tongue up his throat, from his Adam’s apple to his chin, where you nip gently, before pulling your lips away. Gently you push down on his head, taking your lead he drops down onto his knees in front of you. Looking up at you with big green eyes, practically sparkling, wide with lust and pleasure.

“Fuck. You beg so pretty baby” you praise him, pulling your legs up, resting your heeled feet on the edge of the desk, spreading yourself open for him. “No hands. Not until I say” you warn him.

“Yes Miss” Dean agrees eagerly.

Shimmying to the edge of your desk, you quickly feel Dean’s hot breath ghosting over your inner thighs as he pulls his arms behind his back, holding them there. Goosebumps rise across your skin when Dean starts sucking marks into your thighs, slowly inching his way up. His tongue runs along the line of your panties, just out of reach to where you want him.

“Dean. Stop fucking teasing, or so help me God you won’t come” you growl your warning, unable to stop yourself.

“Shit Y/N, I’m sorry. I’ll be a good boy” he hurries to explain.

Dean doesn’t give you time to reply or change your mind before his thick tongue is pressing against your soaked panties. Making noises of appreciation against the slick black material as he drags his tongue up and down, pausing to suck now and again. One of your hands fist in his hair as the other pushes your panties to the side, causing a loud groan to leave Dean’s throat when his tongue finally starts to move against your slick pussy. He gives a long drawn out suck to your clit, making you cry out, clamping a hand on your mouth when he pulls away with a pop, that panty dropping grin from this morning returning to those plump lips.

Angling your hips up your start to roll them into his face, his muffled moans and groans spurring you on, twisting that coil in your stomach tight.

“Don’t you dare Dean, no hands” you gasp as his tongue presses against your clit harder, more insistently.

You’re just about able to see his thick cock from where you’re sitting, his nails digging into his hip as he fights his instincts to touch himself. Pulling back and looking up at you, green eyes wide and desperate, your slick shining on his chin and lips.

“I’m so hard, Miss please” he pleads before pushing his tongue inside you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“Dean!” you cry out, feeling your pussy begin to flutter as Dean’s tongue keeps moving, “Give me your hand” you pant out, feeling yourself right on the edge of orgasm, you just need a little extra.

Groaning as his name falls from your lips, Dean does as he’s told and you press his hand to the top of your pussy, “Rub my clit baby, wanna come on your tongue. I’m so close”

He’s making so much noise beneath you. Your legs drop from the desk, pushing over his broad shoulders, Dean’s fingers move quickly back and forth over your clit. The band inside you snaps, legs seizing up as you come, pulling him as close as possible.

Dean licks you through your orgasm, slow and careful. He stops as your eyes flutter open, eyes lidded and heavy.

Your massive smile quickly turns into a look of annoyance as you look down at Dean, finding that he’s gripping his hard thick cock, pre-come leaking freely.

He notices you looking and swallows hard.

“On the chair Winchester” you command, keeping your tone even, clearly failing to hide your disappointment by the look on Dean’s face.

His eyes are dark and wide as he gets to his feet, you pull your panties back into place, jumping down from your desk. Dean takes a step back for every one that you take forward, until the backs of his legs connect with the chair and he drops into it, the wood groaning under his weight.

Reaching behind yourself you unhook your bra, dropping it to the floor, Dean’s eyes widen even further, if possible and his mouth drops open. Hooking your thumbs into the sides of your panties you pull them down, over your ass and hips slowly, letting them fall down your legs you kick them off your shoe.

“Son of a bitch” Dean moans loudly, completely captivated by you standing bare in front of him.

Kicking his legs open, you climb into his lap, straddling his hips, his cock brushing through your soaked folds. You roll your hips over him, biting your lip as he watches you. Leaning in closer your breasts brush against his bare chest and you press your lips to his ear.

“You were doing so good for me baby, why did you touch yourself?” you question quietly, as his cock nudges against your clit, your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin harshly.

Dean leans into your lips, the feeling of them pressed against his ear.

“Had to stop myself from coming miss, you’re so fucking sexy. Your pussy is so perfect, I’m sorry,” he grits out through clenched teeth, hands gripping the arm rests roughly.

You lean up against him, smiling despite yourself. Your hand wraps around his cock and you slowly lower yourself onto the tip.

“You wanna make it up to me baby?” you ask seductively, your voice coming out breathy and wrecked as inch by inch he sinks inside you.

“Yes! Anything. Whatever you want Y/N” he whimpers, letting his head fall back against the chair. You nip at his collar bone, your tongue running over the thick vein in his neck.

“Then do as you're told. You can’t come, not until I tell you to. Think you can handle that?”

“I can do it, please” he whines as the last inch of his perfect thick cock is pushed inside you.

“Good boy. Then you can touch me” you tell him with a smile, a smile that slips as your lips part and you start to rise and fall on his cock, letting your heels give you a little extra height.

His hands cup your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples. One hand drops to your ass and grips tightly, helping you move. Dean’s lips seal around your free nipple, teeth dragging over the hardened nub as you whine and moan above him.

When he pulls away from your nipple with a pop, one of your hands grips his hair harshly, his forehead resting between your tits as you continue to ride him. Your chin rests on the top of his head, feeling him everywhere. His arms wrap around you, nails dragging down your back, “Fuck you’re so big Dean, feel so perfect inside me. I can feel your cock throbbing baby, you gonna fill me up with your come?”

“Oh g-god” he cries out against your tits, dragging his teeth over the taut skin, “I’m so close Y/N, please, let me come. I need it” he’s begging again, the way he’s clinging to you, like a lifeline, only pulls you closer to that edge all over again. You knew he’d been the perfect choice.

“Just a little longer baby, come on, you can hold it. You’re doing so well for me” your praises seem to help him hold back, but his fingers tighten against you, nails digging in harder but you fucking love it.

He nods breathlessly against your chest, a free hand slips between your legs, pressing your fingers to your clit, you rub fast hard circles into the sensitive nub. Rocking your hips, hard and fast, combing your fingers through his hair as you feel the pit in your stomach burning.

“Y/N, I c-can’t” he stutters, sweat coating his skin, his teeth sink into the side of your breast.

“Do it Dean, Do it. Come for me!” you cry out loudly, right before your own orgasm hits, way more intense than earlier. It sparks every nerve ending in your body, heart beat thumping in your ears, blood rushing under your skin.

You don’t have time to come down before Dean’s coming too, right behind you, his orgasm ripping an inhuman noise from his chest, prolonging your own orgasm.

When the two of you finally come down he’s shaking beneath you, his grip on your back has relaxed slightly, but he’s still holding you tight.

“Dean? You okay baby?” you ask gently cupping his cheeks, tilting his head up so his eyes meet yours again.

“I’m good I promise, really good. That was just really intense” he rasps out voice completely wrecked.

You gently press kisses to his nose and cheeks, finally meeting his plump lips in a slow kiss.

“I’m so proud of you Dean, you did so well” the second those words your lips he’s grinning up at you, eyes bright green and shining again.

He finally pulls his hands away from your back, you watch with wrapt interest as his fingers brush across the marks he’d left on your skin.

“I’m sorry if i hurt you, it just felt so good”

You wink at him when you finally climb out of his lap, pulling on your bra and panties. When you turn to pick up your skirt Dean hisses and you turn back to him worried. “You okay?” you ask quickly, pulling your skirt up your legs.

“Y-Your back, fuck I’m sorry” he apologises, a sad look crossing his face.

“Hey! None of that! It felt amazing and still does, it stings a little but it was worth it! I swear, I'm fucking great and you were incredible” you assure him honestly, pulling him out of the chair he kisses you again, with a force which surprises you.

Pulling away with wide eyes a knock at the door sounds through the room, “You! Sit and stay” you tell him quietly, pulling on your jacket, hoping that the I dropped my coffee story will work to get rid of them.

“I’m naked!” Dean hisses making you giggle, you arch your eyebrow and he nods licking his lips and takes his seat.

“That’s my good boy” you tell him sweetly, pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips.

Another knock sounds as you finally finish buttoning your jacket.

“Stop it!” he groans as you head over to the door, unlocking it you keep it just wide enough for your head to peek through the gap.

“Hey Garth, you need something?” you question with a smile, one you’re sure is awkward as hell.

“Hey Y/N, you got a second. Wait what happened to your shirt?” he asks nodding down to your badly buttoned jacket.

“I spilt coffee on it, all good. I’m kinda busy with a detention right now” you tell him, grip tightening on the door when he tries to look inside.

“Winchester?” he asks with a roll of his eyes.

“Yep” you reply shortly, running your free hand through your hair.

“Come on Miss! I’m getting lonely” Dean calls from behind you, causing a blush to rise in your cheeks.

“I’ll leave you to it, we can talk later. Good luck” Garth smiles, you thank him before turning back into the room.

You glare at Dean as you walk back into the room, locking the door behind you.

His smirk makes you want to fuck him and slap him all at once.

“Oh you’re gonna pay for that Dean-” you warn him, slapping his boxers out of his hands. “- and this time, you don’t get to make any noise” your smirk quickly rivals one of his.

“Oh fuck” Dean groans, beginning to see that being a smart ass wasn’t the best idea, you back him up against the wall and drop to your knees in front of him.

“Remember, quiet now” you wink up at him.

Dean couldn’t wait for his next detention.

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.16}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.3k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"May I ask you something you might find rather odd?"

"Don't you always?" Robin chuckled softly. "You can ask and say anything at all, you know that. Odd isn't a thing between us anymore."

"Why does your hair smell so insufferably much like pineapple? You don't even like pineapples."

For a broken second, Robin was so surprised by the indeed quite unexpected question that she didn't react at all, then however she had to snort and finally just started laughing. Gods, what a question… whether he had meant to take the edge off the situation or not, his inquiry certainly had done just that. In a sudden mutual agreement that it might be better to let go of each other –better for whom, one might ask– they both removed their tight hold from the other and Robin took a tiny step backwards. Not enough to call it an appropriate distance, really, but enough to look at each other's faces again.

"I, uh…" She started, once she had more or less stopped laughing, and finally folded the letter and the permit back into the envelope. "I haven't really had the money to buy new shampoo after I'd run out, so I first borrowed from Jorien for half a month, and now ever since the beginning of October I've been borrowing from Cas, who unfortunately loves pineapples. That's why I smell like one currently."

"I see… Curious how I haven't noticed it before."

"Well, we don't really… get that close to each other so often." Robin shrugged, trying to suppress the sad subtones that wanted to sneak into the statement, and instead acted over it by removing her wand from the tousled damp mess on her head, now that she remembered that her hair still would have to dry at some point indeed. "And I literally just took a shower before coming here, so that should make the smell even more prominent as well. Sorry…"

"Not for that. But say, do I even want to know why you decided to take a shower in the middle of the night? On your birthday?"

"Cas smeared some sticky goo onto my face and it was really itchy and got stuck in my hair…" She rolled her eyes at the memory, and upon his questioning and slightly horrified expression, she snorted but went to explain. "It was just some kind of face mask, nothing gross! Well, actually, it was pretty vile, all pink and smelling horribly sweet, even worse than the pineapple!"

"Sounds like your evening with your roommates went exactly as expected."

"Well, part of it at least. At first we had tea and cake, which I very much enjoyed actually. They told me about the incident in class as well, even though they thought it was hilarious rather than annoying. But then I became subject to their idea of a girls' night, and that meant sticky goo and painted nails." Robin held up her hands with a humoured sigh to demonstrate Jorien's work. It actually looked quite good, or at least it had, before Robin had already chipped one nail in the shower. She couldn't bring herself to care enough to fix it though. "Then they tried to get me to talk about boys, which was the point where I shut down."

"I can imagine."

"They got me a lovely gift though; a framed photograph of the entire group. The girls and I, and Simon, Gideon and Michael. All sitting together in the great hall." Robin smiled, still very much happy about the picture. "There's so few photos of me and the people I care about. Honestly, I only have the conference photos from last year and the year prior, and either has about fifty strangers in it, but only one has you."

"Good. I doubt that I'm particularly photogenic."

"Neither am I, but I like looking at the picture nonetheless."

"You always were the most photogenic person in the entire newspaper. All three years of conferences."

"Thanks." Robin laughed, once again quite glad that it was too dark for him to really see her blushing. "Remind me to show you the horrible pictures of me as a toddler some time… You'll change your mind about me being photogenic then."

"Don't bet on it."

"Alright, I won't." Her smile turned warmer, less amused and more heartfelt. "But I'm still happy to have one more picture of the people I care about now."

"You should be. It is a nice gift indeed. An actual gift."

"Oh will you stop it now!" Robin rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, then couldn't help smiling up at him nonetheless. "I think your gift IS an actual gift! A perfect one! But if you just keep refusing to believe it, might I make a suggestion?"

"Don't you always?" He raised an eyebrow as he quoted her own words back to her with a not-smirk. "Go ahead."

"Go to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday. I know you're not overly fond of being there while the students are roaming around, but you could consider it a gift to me, if the incredible one you've already given me just won't count for you. Which I still don't understand, by the way." She suggested, then went on with a small smirk. "I'm sure I can sell some stuff to the guy in that ingredients shop you sent me to forever ago."

"I will have to see it to believe it. Saturday it is." He replied and the corners of his lips quirked up more and more. "The man you're speaking of is a sleazy individual, ripping people off wherever he can, and getting him to pay a decent price will be practically impossible. But I will enjoy seeing you try."

"I can get him to pay any price you name." Robin teased with a nonchalant shrug. "I don't know what prices to set anyway, nor what the different objects are worth in theory. Just give me a number I can tell him, and you'll see me getting him to pay it."

"I sincerely doubt that."

"Wanna bet?" She quirked an eyebrow at him, smirking openly with just a tad of mischief in her tone. There was no way she would lose this, she was certain of that. "If you deem me so unconvincing, you should have nothing to lose."

"If you insist. What stakes shall we set?"

"Loser buys the winner a drink afterwards, how about that? We should both be able to afford that much at that point."

"Agreed. It should make for an interesting Saturday either way." Snape seemed to be entirely amused by the idea at this point, and Robin wondered if he was actually serious about doubting her in the first place. He did know better than to question her abilities, especially those she actually believed in herself, and somehow she had the feeling that agreeing to this bet was his way of encouraging her to do her best on Saturday. But he might also just be wanting to buy her a drink. The thought made Robin grin even more, and she decided that she was fine with either version.

"I hope I'll make it to Saturday in the first place…" She said then, remembering that it was only Friday now, roughly around two in the morning. "The girls have made some plans for my birthday, but after this evening, I'm not sure if I will survive any more of their ideas."

"To your luck, they will be busy with classes for most of the day, much like myself unfortunately. Are you going to be assisting Pomona with the second years again?"

"Yeah, it's the only thing I have to do. It's fun, actually, when the students aren't being idiots. Gonna be an easy day."

"Perhaps you should go to bed now nonetheless. As much as I would like to sit down now and keep you here until morning, you certainly would be better off with some sleep before your roommates drag you into whatever schemes they have set up for the morning."

"Yeah… I should go." Robin sighed, and this time she didn't even bother trying to hide her sadness about the fact. "Don't forget about the salt thing though, yes? And please tell McGonagall; even if just for the sake of helping me keep my promise."

"I will." He replied as he followed Robin to the door, keeping his eyes on her as she stepped out into the hallway. "If your roommates haven't already claimed every single minute of your day by then, perhaps we could take a walk in the afternoon."

"I would like that very much." Robin smiled up at him too happily, in too much excitement, but she couldn't bring herself to care. He already knew that she loved spending time with him; he just didn't know all of the reasons. "But for now, goodnight."

"Get out of my sight already."

"As you wish." She grinned at his feigned annoyance and not-smirk, then made her way down the hallway and back towards her room, clutching her wand in one hand and the letter in the other. Surprisingly enough, this had been a great start to her birthday after all.

When she lay in bed a little while later, she could still feel the shadow of his touch along her spine, the brush of his fingertips on her sides, and it took her a while to fall asleep like that, when part of her mind wouldn't shut up and instead kept on wondering what it would've felt like without all the fabric in between his skin and her own.

… … …

Morning, as always, came way too soon, and Robin was woken up by two overly excited girls who then proceeded to dictate her every move. Luckily she could talk them out of painting her face this year, but they still put up her hair into an intricate braid before they finally made their way to breakfast while playing some kind of game Robin never quite understood the rules to in the first place. When they arrived in the great hall, they still were terribly early for once, as they sat down at the Ravenclaw table with the boys, who each proceeded to congratulate Robin as well, and she in return thanked them all, especially Simon for the idea with the picture.

Once the hall had filled up with students and staff alike –Robin took careful notice of the fact that McGonagall was once again sitting next to Snape, chatting away amicably while the latter looked indifferent as always– the beginning of the meal was announced, and the foods and drinks were sent up from the kitchens. The moment everyone had been waiting for had finally arrived, and when Robin looked around, she saw more excited faces than she dared to count. Obviously the news about the prank had made their rounds among the student body, and spread even beyond the Ravenclaw table. In the careful attempt not to be entirely obvious about it, Robin then observed Snape and McGonagall. Both of them went with coffee this morning, and if she wasn't mistaken, they both focused on their mugs a little too long before moving to drink at last. Neither of them pulled a face, nor did McGonagall falter in her one sided chat with the bored man next to her, which relieved Robin quite a bit. Once she looked over at Jorien, the girl mouthed a quiet 'thank you', to which Robin answered with a single subtle nod. Then both their attention was drawn back to the head table, when a happy coincidence decided that it should be Morgan who first made a show of spitting out his salted coffee in an indignant spout. A wave of giggles ran through the student body, and while more professors followed Morgan's example mere seconds later, the giggles turned into straight out laughter. McGonagall made an attempt to hide the fact that she had known in advance, going neatly along with the other professors' surprise and outrage, while Snape however merely let his eyes travel over the students in a menacing glare. When his eyes caught Robin's, however, his face brightened up ever so slightly with a not-smirk for a moment, then he continued his cold inspection of the tables and Robin turned back to her breakfast. Perhaps seeing Morgan spitting out his coffee had made her morning a little better after all, and knowing that Snape had succeeded to get McGonagall, out of all people, to play along with this scheme definitely made her both happy and proud.

The day then continued on quite as good as it had started. During the herbology class she helped with, Sprout not only congratulated her right away, but also gifted her a beautiful scalpel-like knife that was small in size, but sharper than Robin thought possible. The gesture honestly surprised her, but the herbology professor insisted that she couldn't continue watching Robin use that old rusty thing she had been using for both her in- and out-of-class work for the last two years. A little overwhelmed but very much grateful, Robin finally accepted the highly useful gift, and stored it in her pocket for now, just before first students filed into the greenhouse.

The next surprise came during lunch, when Robin found yet another wrapped gift waiting for her in her spot at the Ravenclaw table, where her small group of appreciated people was already awaiting her arrival. Upon Robin's inquiry about the package, they all shrugged and said it had just suddenly been there some time after they'd sat down. Her name was written on a piece of paper that was tugged into the wrapping, but she didn't quite recognise the handwriting. Odd… why were so many people giving her gifts for her birthday, all of a sudden? She appreciated it, of course, but it made her wonder nonetheless. Then, encouraged by her overly curious friends, Robin finally unwrapped the gift, only to reveal a small and desperately old looking book. 'The Unforgivable Curses: A detailed study'... The title alone made the hairs in Robin's neck stand up, while the small group of people around here was simply confused. Of course they understood the title, but they were just as clueless about who would give such a book to Robin as she herself was. There was no note, no letter, nothing but the slip of paper with her name on it, which she tugged in between the pages after briefly flipping through them in search for any more pleasant or unpleasant surprises. But it was just a book, a quite rare one if Robin wasn't entirely mistaken, and certainly not of the kind you would find in a school library. If anyone saw her with this, especially one of the professors, they might just think she was up to no good; thus Robin stored it away in her backpack, making sure to inspect it more thoroughly later today. Preferably together with Snape, he knew way more about these things than anyone else, and he appreciated a good mystery quite as much as she did.

After lunch, when Robin was just about to head to her room to pass the time and perhaps change into something warmer before Snape would be done with his classes for the day, she found herself stopped in her path, surprised yet again by something she hadn't quite expected. This time it was McGonagall who, after a quick glance down the hallway, first congratulated Robin, and then also thanked her for the indirect warning this morning. What surprised Robin however was when the professor took her hand, placed a small and surprisingly cold object in it, and then closed her fingers around it even before Robin could see what it was.

"You did not receive this from me, do you understand?" She asked with an intent look at Robin, who in return merely had the time to nod before the professor turned on her heels and was off down the hallway a second later.

Confused, Robin opened her hand again and her eyes fell onto a key that was now resting in her palm, heavy and cold and no less ancient than the book she had already received an hour earlier. What on earth was going on here that she was missing? What was this key for, in a school that –as far as Robin knew– locked all doors with magic anyway? And why was McGonagall so keen on keeping it a secret? Robin couldn't answer either question, but she hid the key in her locket anyway, to keep it safe until she knew what she was to do with it. Then she finally made for her room, with the intention to get some long overdue rest at last.

… … …

Shortly before four in the afternoon, Robin quietly let herself into Snape's office during the last minutes of the class he was teaching next door. She had indeed changed into something warm enough to be comfortable outside (for once!), and then thought it a nice idea to pick him up here to go for her promised walk. That at least would give them a good two hours before dinner, and thus enough time to actually get away from the castle for a little while. Content with her plan, Robin took her perch on the edge of the desk, not bothering to sit down properly for the little time she planned to stay here. It wasn't long indeed before the door between office and classroom flew open, and a very much annoyed Snape stormed into the room, throwing the door shut behind himself again without looking back. Still it took a few seconds for his eyes to find Robin's, but then he stopped in his track while the tension remained written all over his features.

"Don't." Was all he said in a deep and warning tone, and Robin knew very well what he meant, but she just couldn't help it. She had to smile, brightly and without any attempt to hide it, and he rolled his eyes in return, the tension fleeting, while he tried not to smile in return. "You are insufferable. Just let me be angry in peace."

"I'd rather not. Because I can't be happy when you're upset, so logically I will have to see to it that you're happy. For my own sake." She shrugged easily, and her eyes followed him as he moved to drop a stack of notebooks next to her on the desk. "And I'm here to claim what's been promised to me. Before you can find a way to get out of it."

"Whyever would I want to? Wasn't it I who asked for a moment of your precious time in the first place?" He raised his eyebrows at her for a second, then grabbed his warmer robes from the back of his chair. "I would hardly want to miss the narrow time frame I was given to spend with you."

"Oh come on, I'm not that busy! You're the one who had to teach all day… I've just been in my room ever since lunch."

"Napping, as it seems." He quipped, finally unable to keep the not-smirk off his face, and Robin felt called out immediately.

"How the hell do you know that again?"

"Your hair tells me all about it. Admittedly, the difference from lunch to now is very subtle, especially with the braid, but I know what you look like when you wake up. I've seen it before."

The blush that rose to Robin's face immediately was accompanied by a wave of tingles that were equally a result of his words and her own imagination. Yes, they had woken up in the same room before. But not together, in the way she would've liked. Not the time to think about that now.

"Well, you caught me." Robin finally replied, forcing away the previous string of thoughts. "I was napping because I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I'm fine with little sleep, generally, but less than two hours isn't enough even for me. With the two herbology classes of the first and second years this morning, on top of two meals with the girls, I honestly just needed some rest."

"What kept you from getting a good night's sleep in the first place?" He asked in return, as they left the office and started making their way outside, unseen as always, through the many rooms and passages Robin found herself actually able to remember at this point. She had no idea how Snape even knew about all these shortcuts and secret paths in the castle, but she was glad to have learned about them too. Wandering around unseen was a lot easier like this.

"Oh, you know… just too many thoughts spinning in my mind." She shrugged, careful not to let slip that it had been thoughts about him that had kept her awake. Thoughts about them, together.

"I understand. Your visit also left me thinking for quite a while." He said, as they arrived at the foot of the hill, under the open grey sky at last. "I have come to the conclusion, for example, that you were right. My gift to you may be considered a gift indeed."

"Where did that change of mind come from?"

"I couldn't find an argument against yours. Giving someone a gift is an act of caring, and as you rightly so pointed out, caring extends way beyond the material. Thus a gift should be judged by the amount of care put into it, not its material worth."

"That's pretty much what I was trying to say last night, yes." Robin smiled up at him, doing her best not to trip over anything while they made their way towards their by now common favorite place outside the castle. The shoreline of the lake. "I received three more gifts today, even though I'm not so sure if the latter two go by our definition of 'gift' in that sense. The care as well as the message behind them are kinda, well, untranslatable to me. Anyway, I've been dying to tell you about it all day."

"I'm listening. And intrigued, seeing as once again you just have to build up suspense."

"Well, first there was Sprout." Robin started, in ignorance of his second comment, and pulled the delicately ornamented knife out of her robes, showing it to Snape with a smile. "I was quite surprised that she got me a gift at all, to be honest. We've gotten a bit closer through my assistance in her classes, but I didn't think she liked me enough to even remember my birthday, leave alone to get me anything."

"She gushes about you all the time actually, in the staff room, or during meals… It seems to be one of her favourite pastimes to tell everyone, especially me, about your brilliant work." Snape replied, then handed the knife back to Robin who slipped it back into her pocket. "I'm not surprised that she would give you a present such as this; she holds you in a higher regard than she does with most of her colleagues."

"I certainly appreciate it. The gift, and that she's obviously quite fond of me too. Especially since the other two items that were given to me today are way more confusing in their nature and their circumstances."

"I know you received a book during lunch. What was that about?"

"I haven't got even the slightest idea. Nobody knows who it's from or why it was given to me, and I was hoping you could help me solve this mystery." She said, and summoned the object in discussion from her bag, once again handing it to Snape. "There's a piece of paper inside with my name on it, perhaps the handwriting will tell you more."

He stopped walking once his eyes fell onto the title of the book, and he inspected it for a moment longer until he looked up at Robin once again, in sincere surprise. "I have heard of this book, but admittedly I believed it to be nothing more than a myth. It still might be a mere joke; we will have to find out about that."

"What's special about it? It probably contains a bit more information than we are taught here at school, but that can't be it, right?"

"Supposedly, it contains methods to resist all three of the unforgivable curses. I highly doubt that rumour however, for obvious reasons."

"Obvious to you, perhaps. Enlighten me."

"If there was a way you could cheat a curse that was banned by the ministry, wouldn't they have an interest in making that knowledge known and thereby eradicate the usefulness of such curses in the first place?"

"That definitely makes sense. But perhaps they also believe the book and thus the methods to be nothing more than a myth? Either way, I have this book now, and I have no idea who gave it to me."

"I could give you an answer to that even without looking at the handwriting." Snape scoffed, but opened the book and inspected the snippet of paper nonetheless. "Quite obviously, Professor Dumbledore has an interest in it that you become better acquainted with these curses. I don't have to tell you that this isn't a good sign."

"No…" Robin breathed in return, and if she was honest with herself, she could also have guessed by herself that it was the headmaster who had given the book to her. "If Dumbledore wants me to read this, I bloody better should. No matter what his intention behind it is."

"Indeed. I would ask him about it, but he hasn't been letting me in on anything of importance for a while now, and I doubt that he would give me an honest answer even if I tried. We are better off drawing our own conclusions from now on. May I read the book, once you have?"

"Obviously! It's really not much of a gift and more of a homework assignment the headmaster expects us both to do."

"An oddly fitting way to describe it. Tell me, if that was the second 'gift', what is the third?"

"Something I understand even less." She sighed, then fiddled the key out of her locket to hand it over too. "This was given to me without a comment, without context, and with the instruction to not reveal who gave it to me."

"That certainly-..."

"It was McGonagall." Robin shrugged with one shoulder, giving him a small smile which only widened as his brows furrowed in confusion. "I'm not keeping secrets from you, and she certainly knows that. But I have every intention to keep her involvement a secret from absolutely everyone else."

"If she was concerned about keeping it a secret in the first place, it likely means that Dumbledore doesn't know. This in return means that whatever his reason might be for not wanting you to have the key, it isn't to your advantage. But the key likely is."

"Why do you think so?"

"Dumbledore has long lost his conscience between the bigger picture and his own ambitions, but Minerva will do what she can to protect the innocent from any misfortune. And if said misfortune was caused or tolerated by the headmaster, I believe she will go against his wishes to act on her own conscience instead. Put differently, Dumbledore's concern lies with the school, and its place in the grand scheme of things. Minerva's concern lies with the learning and wellbeing of both students and staff."

"But… that would mean that Dumbledore is willingly letting something bad happen to me. And McGonagall is trying to protect me from it, even though Dumbledore doesn't want her to."

"So far my theory at least, but I have no proof of it other than both our past experiences. It certainly would make sense in the context of both her own words after the incident with Morgan on the first night of term, and also the fact that Dumbledore gave you the book now."

"Oh great…" Robin groaned under her breath and let herself fall back against the tree behind her. "What have I done that makes me everyone's favourite victim? First Morgan, now Dumbledore, and well… There's literally an entire school full of people to pick on! Why do they keep choosing me?"

"I have another question for you. Why does Minerva believe that an old key will help you against either of them?"

"Yes. Great! Thank you for making matters even more complicated." She rolled her eyes with a huff, but felt bad for it immediately. Time to be better than her emotions. "Sorry… that was really unfair. None of this is your fault."

"It's quite alright." He replied calmly and took the remaining two steps to stand in front of Robin, handing her the book and the key. "I can't say I'm not equally concerned about these developments."

"I just can't get rid of the feeling that it all comes down to Morgan somehow. If McGonagall is the proof of a connecting point, back on the day of the welcoming feast and today, it means that Dumbledore sees Morgan as he is, as a threat, but doesn't want to do anything about it. Not because he doesn't care about Morgan's actions, but because he has some grand scheme in mind where Morgan is a chess piece of yet unknown importance and I'm just a casualty he's willing to sacrifice for whatever greater cause. And McGonagall doesn't want that to happen, but she also can't tell me about it because he doesn't want her to. Does that even make any sense? This is a school and not some bloody thriller!" She scoffed as she returned the book to her bag and the key to her locket, then however didn't lean back against the tree. There was too much tension in her body, too much anxiety in her mind, and thus she simply looked up at Snape with an almost sad expression. "Honestly, what am I missing here? I just… I don't understand what's going on anymore."

"Right now, all that matters is that you are out here, with me. You are supposed to have an enjoyable birthday and not a mental breakdown over people who definitely do not deserve it." He said while lightly tracing the outside of her hand with one finger, and when the gesture made Robin smile instinctively, he took her hand entirely and gave it a gentle squeeze. "We will find answers to all the questions, given the right time and opportunity. You and me together, like always. Yes?"

"Yes." Robin sighed, and her smile broadened into a real one that captured the rest of her face as well. "Let's walk on then, shall we? You could tell me what the fifth years did that was so terribly annoying during your last class."

"The better question would be what they didn't do to annoy me. I cannot believe I have to get those dunderheads through their OWLs at the end of the year." He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, and slowly let go of Robin's hand as they sauntered on, along the shoreline. Oh well… Robin was happy about the gesture nonetheless; as small and fleeting as it had been, it had been initiated entirely by him for once.

"You better start telling me then." She suggested, quirking an eyebrow at him with a smile. "If it's such a long list. What did they do wrong this time?"

"Would you like me to answer chronologically or alphabetically?"

_____________________________

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justcourttee · 5 years ago

Text

And They Were Roommates-Pt 8

Marinette didn’t know what to think. The Damian she met two weeks ago had disappeared, and in his place was the charming man she had grown to love over the past three years. It made her doubt everything she thought she knew about their relationship.

The first night had been hard. She woke several times in tears to the point that her pillowcase was soaked through. She could hear his level breathing from outside her door, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face him.

The second night was worse. Night terrors began to set in and she found herself reaching out for company, even if it was his. She met him on the couch and curled into his side like she did a hundred times before with Chloe and Adrien. He seemed to understand as he didn’t push her to talk, only let her use him for comfort.

By the third night, she was able to have a conversation with him, longer than the awkward five minutes they had managed the other day. He finally opened up about his family, even telling her his real last name, Wayne.

“Why go by Al Ghul then?”

“Most people here Wayne and think money and favors, it’s unpleasant and draining. If I want a fresh start, I use my mother’s name, but it eventually falls through and I have to move all over again.”

“But why run from your family so often? I’d do anything to see mine one more time.”

Her eyes teared up, but she shook her head quickly, trying to stop before they really started. Damian studied her for a moment before offering her a small smile.

“They’ve always been very overwhelming. I went from high expectations with my mother to even higher expectations from my father. He wanted me to unlearn everything she had taught me and became angry and disappointed when I didn’t head in his every direction.”

He paused, noticing the tears still lingering on her eyelashes. Gently, he reached forward, brushing them away.

“Mother was to obey or be killed, which sounds terrible, but someone I liked better in a sense. At least I knew that any disappointment would be dealt with directly, nothing less. Father was angry, taking his anger out indirectly through comments and tough training, but the disappointment was worse. He’d compare me to his other kids, all adopted nonetheless, but it didn’t matter. He held them with high respect and praised them often.”

“That-” Marinette paused, unsure if she wanted to continue, but his smile was inviting her to speak her mind. “That sounds awful. Expectations are supposed to be set by yourself, not your parents. They’re just supposed to be there for support and the occasional guidance.”

“Is that how your parents were?”

Marinette bit her lip, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry Angel, I wasn’t sure if you were ready to talk yet. I won’t bring it up again until you say you’re ready.”

“No,”she shook her head, much to his surprise. “I need this.”

Taking a deep breath, Marinette dove in, taking several small pauses to wipe away her tears.

“My parents were so supportive of everything I ever did. I tried sports when I was younger and while I wasn’t bad, it wasn’t my passion. My mother bought me an art set when I turned nine and it was like magic. All of a sudden, the world was whatever I wanted it to be. When I turned eleven, I discovered designing. I mentioned it once to them and when I came home from school, there was a dressing mannequin and a sewing machine sitting in my room.”

Her eyes glazed over as she stared at her hands in her lap. It seemed like such a distant memory at this point. His hand reached into her sight, moving toward her’s.

“May I?”

She nodded as she watched him intertwine their fingers. He waited patiently for her to continue, rubbing small circles into the back of her hand using his thumb.

“I was so happy with them. When I first was given the scholarship offer for Metropolis University, I didn’t know what to think. Chloe’s mother offered me a mentee spot if I traveled overseas, seeing as the flight to New York was only an hour from here. My parents knew what it meant for my possible future in the fashion industry, and to them, it was a no brainer. It was hard seeing them only for the breaks and then even harder when Professor Brookes offered me a spot in her workfield.”

“Your parents sound amazing. The way I grew up was- unconventional to say the least. I can’t even imagine where I would be today if I had that kind of support.”

A small smile stretched across Marinette’s face as her eyes rose to meet his.

“You sound like Chloe and Adrien.”

“They were close to your parents as well?”

“Adrien grew up in a very unconventional lifestyle as well. His mother disappeared when he was 12, leaving his father a broken man. He distanced himself from Adrien, only communicating with him when business was involved. Adrien tried to come out to him when we turned 16, but he scorned him, telling him he was confused and that he either dropped the subject or Gabriel would deal with it himself.”

Damian frowned, his eyebrow furrowing at her words.

“That’s ridiculous, his father could be runner up to my mother for worst parent of the year.”

“Yeah, Gabriel sucks. He still does. My parents allowed him to crash at my house that night, and every night after that they insisted he came over for dinner. They talked him through his teenage years, offering him advice and unconditional love. It was exactly what he needed to go public about his sexuality, my parents on either side of him at the press conference, offering support where they could. There was nothing his father could do at the point; if he spoke out, he would be seen as homophobic. Adrien held my parents on such a high pedestal after that.”

“And what about Chloe?”

Marinette shook her head, a small laugh escaping, shocking the two of them.

“Chloe used to be a terror when we were younger, but to be fair, she was being enabled at every turn. Her mother was a workaholic, never around and her father was a corrupt politician. She bullied me alot.”

Damina raised his eyebrow, but Marinette simply waved him off.

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s what everyone said when I offered to be her roommate in college. ‘How can I be her friend after that?’ It’s simple. When we were 14, she really fell off the deep end. She helped Gabriel do some very terrible things out of her feelings of anger and loneliness. Everyone resented her for it, and even her own parents turned their backs on her. Instead of offering her help, they left her even lonelier than before.”

Marinette leaned forward, picking up a picture frame from the table. Leaning over, she allowed Damian to take a closer look. The picture depicted a happy family. Marinette’s parents in the back with Marinette and the two blondes in front of them. The moment frozen as everyone was caught mid laugh at some unseen humor.

“Chloe fell into a depressive state and one night, my mother found her on our doorstep, tears pouring down her eyes. My parents brought her inside, wrapped her in a large blanket and offered her a mug of hot cocoa. They knew who she was, they knew what she had done, but they could never leave her outside, they could never leave a child alone. She apologized for everything, telling me how her therapy helped her realize how terrible she was when we were younger. She was genuine.”

“How could you tell?”

Marinette pulled the picture close to her chest, a tear slipping from her eye.

“Chloe was a lot of things, but she never lied to me. She always believed in what she was saying, no matter how crazy it was. That night was a new beginning. It was rocky at first, but between myself and Adrien, we helped her back onto her feet. Pretty soon, she joined family dinners too. We did it every night for two years and I can’t tell you how much joy it brought to everyone, especially my parents. The one thing they loved more than each other, was loving others.”

A few more tears slipped out before she could stop them. It felt like she ripped off a bandaid she forgot was there. She knew her friends needed to know, Damian’s grim stare confirmed he was thinking the same thing. But it was too much. It was still too raw and the emotions swimming in her head from their deaths and from Damian’s confession. She couldn’t help them through their grief. Not yet.

“Marinette, I could tell them if you would like.”

She shook her head as she closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing again.

“It’s something I should do. I just need one more night.”

He nodded in understanding, not pushing the matter anymore, something she was grateful for. Marinette sat down the picture and picked up the pen beside it. She handed it to Damian before settling back into the couch.

“Could you draw me something?”

“What would you like me to draw?”

Marinette shook her head, leaning in his direction.

“Anything.”

And so he began, sketching on his wrist, his eyes occasionally glancing over at hers as she watched her own wrist intently. He watched her eyes start to flutter shut only to fly open as she fought the exhaustion. But it was a losing battle as she finally fell into his side, soft breaths escaping her parted lips. He placed the finishing touches before capping the pen, tossing it gently to the coffee table.

“Goodnight Angel.”

He reached over to the lamp, pulling the string hard, plunging them into darkness. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Marinette sat up abruptly to the sound of the banging on her door. Her first instinct was to reach into the drawer under the coffee table, pulling out a small pink container. She stood to move closer as a second round of banging commenced. Her eyes darted back to the couch where Damian had sat last night.

It was empty, a small piece of paper on the coffee table promised her that he would return soon. Creeping towards the peephole, Marinette took a cautious look, only to find it covered by whoever was outside. With a deep breath, Marinette flung open the door, raising the pink container to her defense.

Her would be assailant fell to the ground, grabbing his eyes as he let out a string of curses that would’ve expelled him from any school he could’ve ever attended. She looked up to find two more startled figures, both had their hands held in a surrender position. Marinette lowered her defense, her eyes narrowing at the two men.

“Who are you?”

“She really pepper sprayed me! You guys promised it would just aggravate Demon Spawn, you didn’t tell me I would be assaulted!”

The man on the ground sat up, still rubbing his bloodshot eyes, tears pouring down his face.

“I’ll ask you one more time, and just to be clear, you give me anything other than an answer to my question and I don’t need the pepper spray to kick your sorry asses. Who. Are. You?”

Two of them shared a panicked look, neither daring to move to help the third man up.

“Well you see sunshine, you are not who we were expecting either, in fact-”

The man with the bloodshot eyes rose only to be slammed into the wall by the girl. Marinette gripped his arm tightly behind his back, pushing his front side further into the concrete wall. Leaning all of her weight into him, she ignored his cries to ‘tap out’, her glare demanding a better answer from the remaining two.

The smaller one nudged the taller guy forward, neither looking eager to talk.

“Well you see, it’s a funny story really-”

“I’m losing my patience.” Marinette pulled her hostage’s arm further back, causing another string of curses.

“It’s just that-”

“They’re my idiot brothers.”

Marinette turned her head to see Damian standing behind them, an amused expression evident on his face. He was holding a tray with two coffees in them, a bag from Marinette’s favorite bakery in his other hand.

Horrified, Marinette let go of the man, allowing him to drop to the ground, rubbing his shoulder as he scooted away from her.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. It’s just between the banging on the door and then covering the peephole, I just assumed the worst. Please, come in, I’m so sorry.”

Marinette repeatedly apologized as she moved to help her poor victim up off the ground.

“Don’t offer him help habibti, you’re too generous. Leave him on the ground.”

She shook her head, gently gripping the man’s good arm as she helped him to his feet. He moved quickly out of her grasp, his expression a mixture between weary and respect.

Damian stepped in front of her, his glare causing each man to fold in on themselves, none expect the man from the ground even dared to meet his eyes.

“Besides, you were asking the wrong question. It doesn’t matter who they are, it only matters what they’re doing here and how soon can they leave?”

Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ladybug-182 @fusser90 @thestressmademedoit @dast218 @thezestywalru @jardimazul @olynix @dorkus-minimus @xahriia @kris-pines04 @urbanpineapplefarmer @moonlightstar64 @itsmeevie01 @little-lady-bird @alexandriamw @lozzybowe @emmdaenovice @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @jessigurl-design @aegyobutpsycho2 @stark-morgoona @tis-i-beanbandit @rebecarojas07 @abrx2002 @ash-amg @loveswifi @heaven428 @dreamykitty25 @marinettepotterandplagg @smolplantmum @clumsy-owl-4178 @books-and-left-behind-journals @joejoejodee @iloontjeboontje @maybemanymuffins @zalladane @mysupporthyperfixations

#daminette #maribat #roommates

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mrsseverussnape · 3 years ago

Text

Love Is You - chapter 2

a/n: I made some new additions to the chapter while reading it. Wattpad, AO3 and Tumblr versions will be all different than each other😅 Whenever i read it before posting it on somewhere, i cannot stop myself and add new stuffs…

Ps: Severus is making an appearance in this chapter and we will see him more and more with each chapter😏

Also i am linking Sirius x Scar relationship post here, you can learn about their backstory😌

Scarlett has spent the night at her own house, of course she didn’t want to go back to their family house and even how much she needed a company tonight, she couldn’t go to her parents either since she didn’t know how to tell them what happened tonight.. Scarlett couldn't sleep even for a second; the moment she closed her eyes the bedroom scene appeared in her mind non-stop. So she decided to go to work early, there was no point in trying to sleep. She fixed herself as much as possible and headed to the Ministry of Magic. She went to the Minister of Magic's room directly, as the deputy minister she had to acquaint him about the conferences in Paris.

"Good morning sir."

"Good morning Scarlett. I wasn't expecting you that early. Have a seat please."

The Minister Dorian Blackwood poured some tea for themselves and opened a biscuit jar while she was sitting. They talked about Paris conferences for almost half an hour. The Minister has noticed that something was off with Scarlett since he knew her since she was little. But he decided to stay silent, if she wanted to talk she would.

"Before i leave, i need to tell you one more thing Dorian."

"Sure, i am listening."

Scarlett was scratching her hands and biting down on her lip. She was having second thoughts but she believed she had to do that. "I…I want to resign..."

Dorian raised his eyebrows in surprise, that was something he wasn’t expecting at all. "May i ask why? Because i see you as the next minister and i know you want that too, Scarlett. That was our plan."

"I do, i still do want that but i just can't work here anymore." She took a deep breathe, she continued to talk but her voice was shaking. "I don't know how to explain this at all but yesterday i found out something including a third party and i and Sirius are no longer in good terms. I don't want to come across with someone here and that someone is not Sirius..." Couple of tears escaped and ran down on her cheeks.

"Oh my dear girl...” Dorian walked up to her and rubbed her back to ease her pain a bit. Scarlett was like a daughter to him and he cared about her dearly. “I guess i understand the situation... but i don't want you to resign. Maybe we can do something else."

"What is that?" Scarlett looked at him questioningly.

"I am guessing that someone is not as important as you here so...I can do it right now."

She shook her head. "No not fire her, that won't be fair. It is my personal problem, Dorian."

"Okay whatever you want but just let me know if you change your mind, i can do anything for my lovely deputy minister. But i really want you to stay Scarlett, i don’t think you thought about that decision very clearly."

"I thank you for your kindness and for everything Dory but i don't think i will be in a good state of mind for a while. I don't even want to stay in London. Please accept my resign." Scarlett was almost begging at this point. The minister thought for a while then nodded slowly.

"I can't force you Scarlett, it is your decision in the end. But i am really upset about it, i will miss my partner in crime” Dorian gave her a sad smile. “Give me a week to arrange some stuff then you can fully resign. And you don’t have to come here this week, i will take care of it myself and promise me you will take care of yourself."

She nodded. "Thank you for your understanding, i am not happy about it either but that will be the best for everyone i guess... I cannot promise but i will try..."

Then she left the room before crying her eyes out, this was way harder than she thought. Then she went to the law department to arrange the divorce papers, this was even harder than the resign talk for her. It was hell of a day and she just wanted it to finish already. After the work, she went to their house to get some of her stuff since she didn’t have much in her house because it hasn’t been used for over 20 years. Unfortunately for Scarlett, Sirius has left the work early and he was at home. When he heard the door, he rushed to the doorway it had to be Scarlett.

"I knew you will be back Scarlett!" Sirius cheered with happiness, though he was looking rough. Apparently he didn’t have good night either.

"I didn't come here to stay, i will take some clothes then leave. I will be moving out as soon as possible." Scarlett said sternly without looking at him.

Before he could say anything else, she started to go upstairs where their bedroom was. Sirius followed her immediately like a puppy. She didn't want to enter the room after what she has seen yesterday but she had to, so she took a deep breath and started to pack a bag, avoiding looking at their bed.

"Scar, baby, we can talk and solve this, please."

She let out a laugh angrily. "We can solve it huh? You cheated on me right here, in OUR bed and now you are waiting for me to forget everything!? You have no idea how hard it is for me to be in this room right now. We are done, understand!? You will get the divorce papers in couple of days."

She took her suitcase and got out of the room as fast as possible. "I will take the rest of my stuff later."

"Scarlett..." he called out her name and held her hand before she could walk out the outside door.

She stood there for a second then turned to look at him for the first time today. The tears were collected in his moon coloured eyes, ah how much she loved his eyes. She has never seen him looking so sad, he was always the cheerful one with a grin on his lips. Seeing him like this gave her pain, she was very angry with him but the love she had for him wouldn’t disappear in a day. Then without a second thought she pressed her lips against his softly. It was a quick kiss, but it was full of mixed emotions. Then she pulled away and mumbled a "Goodbye." before she apparated and left Sirius there crying silently.

2 days have passed since Scarlett moved out and still she haven't talked to her kids or her parents about what's going on between her and Sirius. The twins were 21 years old so they could understand the situation, but she still didn't know how to tell them about it at all like their marriage was going great and in one night everything went upside down. Leonidas was working in New York and she didn't want to tell him through a letter, this would leave him with so many questions. He would probably come to London for Christmas, so Scarlett decided to wait till then. But Carina was working at Hogwarts and Scarlett got ready to go there, she didn’t want to lie to Carina through letters acting all was well. 2 hours later Scarlett was wandering around the castle, she hasn’t been there since she graduated. She didn't know where Carina's room was exactly, so she decided to go to the potions classroom since Carina was Professor Snape's assistant. She wasn’t ready to enter that class at all and that was why she avoided coming to Hogwarts for years but right now this was such a small problem beside the other things. Scarlett knocked on the class's door and heard the deep voice she knew very well saying "Come in." Severus Snape was ready to scold the person who interrupted their study but when he saw who it was, he stood there in shock, he couldn’t say a single word.

"Mum!?" Carina asked in surprise, she wasn’t expecting her at all.

"May i talk to my daughter privately, it is important." Scarlett requested but she was not looking at him directly.

Severus didn’t talk for couple of seconds then nodded lightly. "Yes. i will finish rest of the potion by myself Carina, you can leave."

Carina nodded and rushed to her mum. "Is everything okay mum?" She asked while they were leaving the class. Carina noticed she wasn’t looking any good, she wasn’t even wearing her signature red lipstick that she always do and that was concerning.

Carina escorted her to her chambers but she has started to panic, her mum’s silence wasn’t helping the situation at all.

"Mum could you please tell me what happened? Are my grandparents okay?"

"They are fine." Scarlett sat on the bed and motioned Carina to sit next to her. Scarlett's eyes have already filled with tears.

"Mummy? Are you alright?" Carina held her hand softy.

Scarlett shook her head as no, she was squeezing Carina’s hand to gain some power. "Carina, i and your dad... are having a divorce..." end of the sentence she was crying her eyes out.

"W-WHAT!? What happened mum!? I saw you two like 10 days ago and you were totally fine. What's that now?" She was in pure shock and couldn’t know how to act.

"We were... we were good at least that's what i thought... But apparently, we weren't because when i turned back from Paris, i found him..." she started to sob uncontrollably at this point, saying it out loud made it worse for her. "cheating..."

"Did you say cheating!? Daddy was cheating!?" This sentence was something that Carina has never imagined hearing in her life.

Scarlett just nodded; she was unable to talk.

Carina hugged her mum tightly "Shhh mummy, everything will be fine, we will get through it..."

She was trying to calm her mum down, but she was devastated herself too. Carina has always wanted a relationship like her parents had. They were the most in love couple she has ever seen in her life. But she just heard that her dad has cheated on her mum after all those years even they weren’t having any problems. Carina had no idea what to expect for the near future right now but she knew that she will be her mum’s side no matter what.

Taglist:

@snapefiction @lizlil @elizabeth-baelish @misselsbells06 @mais-e @lunnybunny12 @anfre109 @entirelymesmerising @wolvesofwinter13

@mrssnivellussnape i am tagging you too since you seemed interested but i can remove you if you’d like 😊

If you wanna be on my taglist, let me know!

#fanfiction #fanfic #sirius black #sirius black x oc #sirius black angst #sirius black fanfiction #severus snape #severus snape x oc #fanfiction moodboard #moodboard #angst #cheating #divorce #writing #hp fanfic #mrsseverussnapefanfic #mrs.severussnape #love is you

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sevfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

A Touch in the Dark - Chapter 13: A Different Perspective

Word count: 1,964

(This first part is Irma’s POV)

A gurgling croak sounded overhead from a raven that soared high in the sky. The bird circled above a cluster of buildings before nose diving into a dark alley. The passage was narrow and cluttered with garbage. A cluster of dark feathers formed a swirling cloud as the shape of a woman emerged. Irma straightened her neatly tucked shirt and stepped out of the alleyway and into a bustling crowd of people. She approached the cold white edifice across the street. Her thin frame weaved between the pedestrians with ease, her face a mask of indifference. Her path led her through a heavy revolving door. The sound of her footsteps echoed sharply against the white walls of the entrance hall. She approached a closet at the end of the hall, inside stood tall shelves lined with assorted office supplies.

“Revelio.” She waved her wand in a small arch in front of her, the shelf began to tremble. A door revealed itself as if a mist was being blown away. Irma entered through the opening and proceeded into a dark corridor lit by dim blue hues emanating from large sconces.

“Mrs. King, you’re early. The Minister isn’t expecting you for another hour.” A short man with a stout frame seemed to emerge from the air.

“I will see him now,” Irma swiftly passed the man and continued speaking as he struggled to keep up with her pace, “where is he?”

“I must insist that you wait, he is in an important meeting and is not to be interrupted.” The man spoke rapidly, attempting, unsuccessfully, to stop the tall woman. Irma continued to make her way through the winding corridors of the Ministry of Magic. She mulled over the Minister's possible whereabouts and concluded he’d most likely be in his favorite conference room. Her determined footsteps could be heard from inside the room she was approaching.

“Ah, Mrs. King,” Kingsley Shacklebolt turned from his spot at the head of a grand table, “I will be done shortly. Please wait in my office.” He turned back to the circle of confused faces.

“It’s. Important.” The severe look in Irmas eyes sent a shiver of realization down the spine of the minister as he glanced at her again. He promptly stood and neared the silver haired woman.

“We shall resume this meeting when I return.”

The Minister’s office was furnished with cushioned chairs with large pillows and tall framed paintings. No windows meant the only light came from small lamps and candles. It was cozy and Irma’s frigid statuesque demeanor cut into the warmth. She reported her findings and spoke adamantly about further interrogating the newest professor of Hogwarts.

“She has the support of Severus Snape. We cannot trust either of them.” Irma spoke firmly.

“She has given us no reason to mistrust her,” Kingsley shook his head, “I agree we must keep an eye on her but there is no need to turn to extremes at this time.” He paused and then stood from his chair, “And as for Severus, he was given immunity and has proven his true loyalties.”

“We are to wait for the inevitable then?” Irma raised a brow, “you know what she’s capable of, Severus is also highly skilled.”

“I understand your concern, but we have no evidence to justify taking any action. We will watch them and the others.”

“Very well.” Irma gave a nod of defeat as she watched the man leave the room. She knew she couldn't go against orders but had a pang of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. The Minister had put together a task force to track down any potential threats, such as witches or wizards with unexplainable powers. Irma King was named head of the force, a general of sorts. She was pitiless and calculating with a taste for authority.

Irma instructed two of her best practitioners to keep watch at Hogwarts. They were to report back with any new developments or interesting findings. The two, a witch and a wizard, were both animaguses so staying hidden was not an issue.

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

“What if I were to substitute boom berry with powdered bone?” You picked up a few glass vials from the shelves against the back of Severus’ classroom. As you walked back to your table you noticed him standing over your bubbling cauldron.

“It’s possible that could work.” Severus turned to you as you approached him. You set the supplies down and began to measure out a gray powder. Severus watched you with a fond look in his eyes.

“You’re so pessimistic, Severus.” You grumbled sarcastically. It was late in the evening and the moonlight trickled in through a small window. The chilled air lingered with the faint smell of the potion you were working on. Severus placed a hand on the small of your back.

“Maybe you’re just too optimistic,” he whispered, “however, I do enjoy watching you experiment.” Severus spoke close to your ear in a husky voice that sent a shiver down your spine. You smirked and nudged him away playfully.

“Don’t patronize me.” The teasing lilt in your brought a smile to Severus’ face. He kissed your cheek softly and made his way back to his desk. He began to work on some grading. Occasionally he would look up at you and watch you concentrate. A small smile remained on his face as he worked.

The evening went on in silence, you focused on your potion and when you began to clean your area Severus got up to help. When you finished he walked with you back to your quarters.

“Would you like to see this new crimson asphodel I’ve been growing?” You asked Severus with a smile. He looked at you suspiciously and you pushed open your door.

“Does such a thing exist?” Severus watched you carefully.

“It might,” you giggled and took his hand, “but I definitely haven’t seen one.” You then pulled him through the doorway. He let you do this but then he took you into his arms and kissed you. When he pulled away from you he brought his hands to your cheeks. His thumb grazed against your bottom lip.

“If you want me to stay, all you have to do is ask.” He murmured. The warmth of voice brushed against your skin.

“It’s that easy, hm?” You pursed your lips.

“Yes.” Severus smiled and kissed you again intensely.

Severus woke before you. He ran his fingers lazily over the bare skin of your back, tracing small scars and worshiping the curves and dimples of your body. It was early in the morning, the sun had barely risen above the horizon. He watched the slow rise and fall of your breaths. He admired the mess your hair had become, having become fond of the unkempt look that you always woke up with. These moments gave him the most peace, he felt his heart swell with love. The softness of your skin reminded him of satin sheets. He moved closer and kissed your shoulder.

“Venus in her shell was never so lovely, and Diana in the forest never so graceful as my Lady when she strides through Paris.” Severus whispered in a low breathy voice, his lips hovered close to your skin. The verse resonated with him and he imagined holding you in his arms like this for an eternity. Your sleep was deep but the warmth against your shoulder pulled you closer to a wakeful state. You shifted towards Severus. His arm found its way around your waist.

“That was beautiful.” You groaned sleepily.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he moved a lock of hair from your face, “I said it because you’re beautiful.” The tenderness in his voice lulled you back to sleep with a small smile on your lips. He kissed your forehead and pulled you against his chest. With your cheek against his skin you listened to his heart beating rhythmically.

The winter swallowed the countryside and the students were preparing to leave for holiday. You cleaned your classroom and helped some of the younger Slytherins get their belongings together. You began spending most of your free time with Severus. One evening after most of the students left, you invited him to have dinner. You asked the elves for permission to use the large Hogwarts kitchen and set up to cook.

“Do you like Italian?” You asked while chopping a small onion.

“I suppose,” he replied, “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“It is one of my many talents, Professor.” You twirled the knife in your hand before dumping the onion in a hot saucepan. He followed your movements with a raised brow. When you finished cooking you handed Severus a plate and he smiled gratefully.

“Thank you.” He watched you fondly as you ate. Over dinner you two spoke about the visit from the Ministry. Severus expressed his distaste for their obvious lack of discretion and self-restraint.

“Maybe she just wanted to be thorough,” you spoke carefully.

“Doubtful,” Severus scoffed, “they’re watching us, that is how thorough they like to be.” He pushed his empty plate aside and took your hand in his. With an earnest look in his eyes, he brought your hand close and kissed your wrist. “Nonetheless, I will protect you. I promise.” He kissed your wrist again then pressed it against his chest just above his heart.

“And you call me a hopeless romantic.” The redness in your cheeks made your face warm and you smiled brightly. Afterwards, Severus helped you clean up the mess you had made. He walked beside you down one of the many shadowy corridors that you learned to memorize. You came upon his door first and he stopped.

“Would you like to join me for tea?”

You agreed and he invited you in. You sat at the small coffee table where you first had dinner together. It was lit by three small candles that rested upon a stack of books. Soon he brought two cups of hot tea and handed you one. He sat across from you, his index finger tapping relentlessly against the cup. You noticed this habit of tapping his finger occurred when he was nervous about something.

“Are you okay?” You asked between sips.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he looked down at his hands then slid them into his lap. He gazed down at the cup and then sighed softly.

“I need to tell you something.” Severus spoke up and you nodded for him to continue. You heard him tapping against his leg, then he went on, “You have shown me that happiness is attainable even with the darkest of pasts,” he looked into your eyes, wanting you to see that he was opening his heart to you, “It would make me even happier if you would grant me the privilege of being your partner, in this life and the next.”

You felt your heart flutter in your chest as you looked into Severus’ dark eyes. At that moment nothing else mattered, only how much you wanted to kiss him and tell him that you'd love nothing more than to be with him. Your movements were brisk as you stood and closed the distance between you two. He was quick to notice your movements and pushed away from the table creating a space for you which you gladly filled by straddling his lap. You then took his cheeks in your hands and pressed your lips against his. He grasped your waist and kissed you back passionately. You pulled away and admired the man who had stolen your heart.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” you smiled and pressed your forehead to his. The smile on Severus’ face beamed and for the first time in his dreary life, he was genuinely happy.

TAGS: @ayamenimthiriel @marvelschriss @debiraquel @mitsuhkai @the-not-so-iconic @darkthought15 @rubym13 @4everflowercore @otherxstories @thottywithoutthebody @setsuna-meiou31

#severus #severus x you #severus snape #snape #snape fanfiction #snape x you #fanfic #snape love #severus x reader #snape x reader #severus fanfic #severus lives

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soulmate-game · 5 years ago

Text

I might make this a tumblr only mini-series of connected oneshots, and I might or might not put them up on AO3 when they are all done. We’ll see how I feel.

I know I submitted this AU to Multifandomscribette, but this is my take on the prompts I gave them. This is not the same AU, and I am not using their headcanons. Just the same basic premise of Marinette being Stephen Strange’s biological daughter.

You know Doctor Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, but this story is about

Lady Strange, the Grand Guardian.

What is with this family and alliteration?!

—*—*—*—*—*

Stephen Strange was a narcissistic, emotionally constipated bastard. But he was rich, well known, and handsome, which counted for a lot when he decided he needed some time to relax, unwind, maybe with another human.

And when Sabine Cheng realized what had happened, that night she had catered for a high society medical conference gala in the States, she vowed to never drink again.

She also vowed to never tell Strange about the child growing in her womb. The only person she ever told about her child’s true origin was Tom Dupain, the man she started dating a month after her chance encounter with Doctor Stephen Strange. Nine months after that, when Marinette was almost a month old, she would propose to Tom in blatant disregard of tradition. She would be waiting for years if she wanted Tom to get up the courage to ask her, and even though it hadn’t been a full year yet Sabine knew what she wanted. Seeing the gentle way Tom held her daughter, their daughter, seeing the way he looked at the little baby as if she hung the stars for him, well that only solidified the little Chinese woman’s love for the french man.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng would not know about her true father’s origin until she was twelve, when a science lecture at school had her asking Sabine who had blue eyes in each of their blood lines.

When Sabine hesitated, Marinette knew instantly that something was wrong. Sabine never hesitated. She was a whirlwind of decisiveness, always knowing what to say and how to act. Hesitation wasn’t a part of her.

Sabine told her everything. How her biological father was someone she only met once, how he was a successful surgeon who had won many medical awards. How he didn’t know she existed.

Of course, Marinette was immediately obsessed. Hurt by her mother’s secrecy, she turned her feelings of betrayal into curiosity and researched everything that there was to research about Stephen Strange. Apparently blue eyes ran on his side of the family. His own were more icy than hers, closer to a blue-gray, but familiar all the same. Both his parents were already dead though, so there went her hope of having another set of grandparents.

Marinette even went so far as to read the research papers he had written, and did follow-up research until she understood as much of it as she could. It helped that Professor Mendeleiev was more than willing to sit down and go over the medical papers with her so they could try to understand it all together.

One day, while Marinette was sewing a new dress, she paused with her needle in the air and stared at her fingers. After that day, she took much more pride than before in how steady her hands were. Her father was a surgeon, it must have been a biological trait. She clung onto anything that connected her to the oh-so mysterious Stephen Strange.

And then came Marinette’s thirteenth birthday. The same day that Stephen Strange was in a car accident and deemed in critical condition.

If Marinette kept an app for American news sources on her phone and set them to alert her if the name of her biological father was mentioned in any reports? Well, her parents didn’t need to know.

She didn’t tell her parents about the reason she was so morose for the rest of the day. She didn’t tell anyone.

She cried herself to sleep when Doctor Stephen Strange was declared to have irreversible nerve damage in his hands, and again when he went missing on a mysterious “vacation” that no media sites seemed to have any information on. She didn’t know why she felt so much connection and pain for someone she had never met, but she couldn’t help it. She would keep researching, keeping her eyes out for any mention of the man online without any luck.

That is, until Master Fu and the Miraculous entered her life. Slowly, she began to neglect her obsession with her biological father. Her passing crush on Adrien Agreste even faded away, never having much traction to begin with because of her overlying concern for the father that didn’t even know he had a daughter.

When Marinette was fourteen, the city of Paris was flooded and she had to swim through the quickly bloating bodies of the dead in order to defeat an Akuma. She reversed the damage and everyone who died was resurrected with no memory of their demise, but Marinette would never forget. All it took was a glimpse of the wrong face on the streets and she would be overcome with a panic attack, with the sight of glassy eyes and blue faces.

That was when Hawkmoth’s attacks picked up in intensity. When people began to die during Akuma attacks more frequently. When Marinette stopped sleeping in quite so much.

Her obsession over her father was a mere footnote by then, something she would idly look into on her ever increasingly rare free time with no success.

When Marinette was fifteen years, six months, two weeks, and two days old, Master Fu died. Marinette assumed the alias of Lady Strange, alongside her identity of Ladybug, so that the Miraculous wielders could contact her and know she was the new Guardian without knowing that she was also their leader in the field.

On the one year anniversary of Lady Strange being the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous, there was a worldwide magical disturbance.

Unlike Fu, Marinette did not limit herself to reacting to Miraculous problems.

—*—*—*—*—*

When Stephen glided back down from the equivalent of thousands of years bargaining and dying with Dormammu, he expected Hong Kong to be in a mess. It had been, from what he remembered of the scene before he created the time loop.

But it wasn’t. Instead, the streets looked as if no damage at all had been created. Kaecilius and his remaining zealots were tied up, quite literally, in what looked like string and hung upside down from a lamp post. Sitting down on the curb of the sidewalk and giving him a dangerously sharp glare was a young woman in a spotted costume, a mask over her face. When Strange realized he could not get any of her features to stick in his memory, he realized what she was.

Another magic user, but different from a Sorcerer. Her Neptune blue eyes bore into him with an intensity he was wholly unprepared for, but had no problem baring. After dying almost a million times, a guy tends to grow a backbone of vibranium.

Wong and Mordo stood on either side of the girl, both at a respectful distance. Wong had this wide-eyed look on his face, so much more expressive than usual that it caught the new Sorcerer Supreme off guard. Wong looked… awed?

Mordo, on the other hand, was regarding the girl with a look of barely disguised disdain and distrust. That was in character though, so Stephen didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, he walked over even as his bargain with Dormammu kicked in and Kaecilius’s cult was banished to the Dark Dimension.

“You reversed the damage, then?” He asked without beating around the bush, glancing down briefly to assure that the Eye was, indeed, still on him. It was. The girl stood up, her eyes continuing to blaze with an unknown soup of emotion.

“I did,” she confirmed easily. It wasn’t until he stopped only a few feet away from her that the sorcerer noticed how small she was. The only detail his mind allowed to stick with him besides that fact was that she also looked young. Too young to have to deal with a mess like this. “You might not know of me. The Temple Of Guardians made a deal centuries ago that all records of their existence and our own magic be removed from any Sorcerer sanctums.”

“The temple that appeared in Tibet out of nowhere more than a year ago?” Strange asked, eyebrow raised. “I remember the Ancient One briefly mentioning how much of a hassle it was to hide their reappearance and teleport the temple’s location somewhere new. I was under the impression that all the members of that temple have been in a pocket dimension separate from this reality for almost two hundred years.”

“They have,” the girl confirmed with a nod. “But before that, one of the Guardians escaped that fate. He became the Grand Guardian, and was my teacher until he passed last year. He named me the new Grand Guardian to take his place,” she turned, looking at something that Stephen couldn’t see. “I have illusions keeping us from being seen by the crowd, but it would be better if we took this inside the sanctum,” she said, nodding her head to the Hong Kong Sanctum’s door behind them. Strange simply nodded, more than willing to distract himself from his immeasurably long torture by indulging his curiosity. If this girl showed up and went out of her way to repair the damage the sorcerers and Kaecilius caused, then he wanted to know why.

“Wait,” Mordo barked, walking up to have a heated discussion with Strange that ended in the former storming off. Stephen knew he should be concerned about his former friend’s desertion, but he couldn’t muster up the energy for it yet. Focusing on the mysterious girl in a ladybug suit was an easier topic for his exhausted mind to latch onto.

When they got inside, the Sorcerer Supreme saw that she had even reversed the damage in the building. He saw a few scattered disciples rubbing their heads and looking around in confusion from their spots crouched on the floor. Stephen was almost certain he had seen those same people as corpses before.

The ladybug-spotted girl had scarcely removed her gaze from him for even a second, and easily picked up on the older man’s train of thought.

“My powers reversed all the damage I could handle, including physical wounds and death,” she told him. Strange blinked.

“That explains why I thought you all looked odd. Your clothes are spotless and you don’t look like you’ve fought at all,” he directed that comment to Wong, who merely nodded. “But that doesn’t explain how you can do such a thing. I’ve been intensely studying magic and magic theory for the past almost three and a half years, and I haven’t come across any healing spell that can be this effective without the subject of the healing themselves helping to work the power through their body. I know you are not a sorcerer like we are, but what exactly is your magic? Who are the Guardians? And who exactly are you?”

The girl pursed her lips, waiting until the two older men led her to the still-wrecked tea room. Her power hadn’t been able to reach that far when she had to focus on reviving so many people without the regular Cure. That only worked on victims of Miraculous magic, what she used on the Hong Kong streets and the Sorcerers was a more advanced usage of Tikki’s powers that she learned from both Fu and her periodic visits to the Tibet temple.

“The Guardians are a group of monks dedicated to the protection and distribution of Miraculous, which is essentially magic jewelry. I would normally go on to say how this might sound unbelievable, but you have a very similar pendant around your neck right now,” she pointed out once they all sat and Wong conjured some tea for them all. Stephen tensed at her mention of the Eye of Agamotto, his eyes narrowing. Did she..?

“I know what is inside the Eye,” she confirmed his silent thought, her voice soft but firm. “And I don’t care about it in the slightest. It is probably a good reference point for my explanation though. At the birth of the universe—“

“The Stones came into existence, each one representing and controlling a core aspect of reality,” Strange interrupted impatiently. “I am the Sorcerer Supreme, girl, I already know that.”

The young female rolled her eyes, huffing. “If you listened patiently, you would know that the story you were told is only partially true,” she snapped back with false patience. “The Stones were not the only things of great power to be created during the birth of the universe. Kwami, the first living beings to be born, were also created. They are each living representations of abstract concepts, some of which overlap with the powers of the Stones. The first to be born is the Kwami of Creation. She is essentially the goddess of creation itself, the living embodiment of that very term in every way. She is the source of my abilities, she lends me her power as I am her chosen Wielder. It is that same power of creation that allowed me to essentially counteract the destruction that was caused today, by having a condensed form of her power combat the direct source of the destruction and nullify it. The second Kwami to come into existence is her counterpart and the only one equal to her in power, the Kwami of destruction. There are a lot more, including the Kwami of illusion that used her power to keep us from being seen outside. And the Kwami Of time, which allowed me to experience the time loop you created,” the girl’s eyes sharpened again, boring into his own. “I left it after the equivalent of a few weeks, when I realized I couldn’t join you and do anything to help. The Kwami Of Time is about two-thirds as powerful as the Stone by itself, and there are more than double the amount of Kwamis as there are Infinity Stones,” she took a deep breath. “My job as Grand Guardian is protecting all of them, and distributing the jewelry they are bound to as necessary to combat world or reality threatening events.”

Strange remained quiet after that, drinking in the information and doing his best to wrap his head around it. Perhaps this young woman wouldn’t mind telling him more at a later date, especially seeing as they held equivalent ranking in two separate secret magical organizations. His eyes trailed down to a necklace she was wearing.

“How many of these pieces of jewelry—“

“Miraculous,” She corrected. “That is what they are called.”

“... Miraculous, then. How many are you capable of wielding at once, if they are so similar in strength to a Stone?” Wond asked, crossing his arms. The pigtailed girl leaned back from her spot sitting on the ground with them, humming in thought for a second as she decided what to tell them. A glance at Stephen seemed to make up her mind.

“Creation and Destruction hold equal power to a Stone. The Miraculous one stage lower than that hold four-fifths the power of a Stone. The last tier, where the Time Miraculous sits, is two-thirds,” she told them from memory. “I can wield Illusion, which is on the second tier, along with two third-their, and both Creation and Destruction at the same time,” she admitted. “But it saps a lot of my energy and I rather not ever do that again, if you don’t mind. I can wield all of the Miraculous though, since all of the Kwamis like me and are loyal. I can wear any three at a time, and I can switch between them as quickly as I need to.”

Strange really needed some sleep. Five thousand year’s worth of sleep would be nice. He ran a hand over his forehead, wondering who in the world gave this much responsibility and power to a child.

“One last question, and then you can spend the night if you wish, we’ll begin reconstruction of all the Sanctums in the morning,” Stephen spoke, forcing his back to straighten and his eyes to meet the girl’s. “You never answered it, actually. Who are you?”

The girl's mouth twitched in the first semblance of a smile he had seen on her yet.

“When I am in this transformation, I am Ladybug the hero of Paris,” she said with a grin. “Spots off.”

A soft pink glow ran down her body, very similar to the ring of power that sling rings produced to make portals. It left behind an adorable teenage girl with blue-black hair pulled back into pigtails, and striking blue eyes. She was clearly of Asian descent, but there was something else very familiar about the sharpness of her jaw or the stubbornness in her lip.

“My real name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. However, I go by an alias whenever I act as Grand Guardian, so that there is an extra layer of secrecy to protect me and my loved ones. I created that alias based on my biological father, who was never told that I was even conceived,” she said meaningfully, never losing eye contact with Stephen. His eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s pitiful, but what does—“

“My alias is Lady Strange.”

Wong barked out a short laugh before he forcibly covered his mouth, his eyes filled with sadistic amusement as he watched Strange’s reaction. The elder Strange, that is.

The new leader of the Sorcerers opened and closed his mouth like a fish, completely caught off guard. He looked over to Wong.

“Is there a spell to test paternity?” He asked warily. Marinette’s smile fell a bit, but Wong nodded.

A few flashes of orange light and two green ‘99% Match’ results later, Strange let his head fall into his hands.

“Alright, Marinette,” he finally managed to mumble through the slightly trembling appendages still covering his face. “I just spent thousands of years in a time loop with the Lord of Chaos, my back aches, my head aches, I will deal with this in the morning. Or whenever I wake up. Figures my own blood relation would end up in a position of extreme magical power, must be genetic. I still have questions, but sleep comes first. Don’t expect me to be a good parent. I really need sleep.”

Marinette just giggled, standing up and helping her father to his feet with surprising ease. “Just tell me where to go and I can drop you off in your room. No more magic for the rest of the day, you’re clearly spent. And as long as you make an effort, I’ll be fine. But don’t expect to ignore me and I’ll just go away, I have ways to track you to the ends of the universe and across the multiverse and time itself, and I will not hesitate.”

“Yep, she’s your daughter alright.”

“Sleep, Wong. It’s good for the brain.”

#mlb x marvel #doctor stephen strange #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #doctor strange #no romantic pairing yet #Only familial pairing right now

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mariamermaid · 5 years ago

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Teacher´s Pet

Prof. Draco Malfoy x fem (Slytherin student) Reader

Summary: You start having somewhat of a relationship with your Professor…

Words: 5.4k

Warnings: implied smut, age difference, drinking, drug abuse, triggering relationship, kinda toxic

A/N: inspired by Melanie Martinez song. Read at own risk, since this isn´t the typical fluffy oneshot with many rather difficult topics…

It all started out innocently.

Professor Malfoy had started last year in Hogwarts teaching potions, in your last year, he then became your teacher. Against much anticipation, he was a good Professor and within his first year, the comments behind his back became less and less. You were one of Slytherins top students, potion making was a game to you. Which was also why you never had much interest in it, however it changed when you raised to be Malfoys top list.

It was the last lesson of Friday, all standing against the weekend everybody secretly hoped for.

Draco sighed as he felt the eyes of his students lingering on the clock, waiting for the last minutes to go over soon. “Since I clearly have your full attention, Y/n would you mind answering the question?”

You quietly cleared your throat, looking up from the doodles on your notes. For seconds you and Professor Malfoy had eye contact, he waited patiently and under the stare of his blue-greyish eyes, you couldn´t help but bite your lip. Within the past weeks a scenario like this happened more often than you would ever admit. Potion remained to be the last class of the week; concentration levels often laid low.

Girls gushed over Draco behind his back, he was the most attractive teacher Hogwarts might have seen and the rumors about his younger looks back in his days, didn´t stop either.

“Yes, Professor.”

As per usual, you didn´t make any mistakes and Draco nodded approving, leaning back on his chair while folding his hands. He continued to make his appearance in a black suit, a tailored suit fitting perfectly while he struck down the halls of the wizard school. Unlike the girls talking behind his back, you watched him quietly. Draco announced the homework, which you all wrote down willingly before most of the students stormed off. With your friends, you packed your stuff together and left the room, Draco still seated. It was your last year in school, you didn´t wear the uniform and Draco subconsciously noticed how the tight skirt enhanced your curves. You were the last to leave, and before you glanced back, finding that Professor Malfoy was already staring at you. You offered him a rather polite last smile, but the quickly beating of your heart which followed, didn´t feel like “just polite”.

This was the day, you described as the beginning. Because the only word that came to your mind when remembering his stare, was lust.

Caught the teacher giving his eyes to a student

Pouty, pretty cute, and she bit her lip back to him

It was Sunday morning when Draco found you in the library. For once, you were actually studying potions. He couldn´t help but let out a chuckle. He didn´t know, that you were awoken by an all too real dream with him as the leading role. “Never imagined to find you with this book on a Sunday morning here.”

Or what he was doing to you in the dream.

You swallowed, the vivid images still in your mind. “Couldn´t sleep.”

He sat down to your opposite and you felt your heart beginning to beat faster and heat rising to your cheeks. “May I?” He pointed towards your notes and you passed them over. While he took them, his hand brushed against yours and a shiver ran down your spine. To be honest, you felt like a renaissance painting. The sun rays of the morning sun falling through the dusty windows with the hottest teacher sitting across the innocent student. While reading, he nodded approving while you began noticing awfully small details about him. The veins on his strong hands, small strands of his hair falling over his breath-taking eyes, his cologne smelling, how his tie sat so perfect, that you wanted to rip it off… wait what?

When he was finished, he handed you the notes back. “They´re good, but if you want, I can teach you to do a more skilled version of the potion mentioned here?”

You looked up, a surprised look on your face. You and Draco, alone. His words replayed in your mind like a broken record. Come one babygirl…

“Sure, how about Tuesday, I have the last period off?”

Chewing on her nails and her pens while she's dreaming of him

And he's fucking in sin, You know he is

Monday went by so awfully slowly, you wanted to start screaming. The only good thing was that Draco stopped by in your defense against the dark arts class, since he needed to talk about a conference with your teacher. However, while he waited so the teacher assigned you some spells to practice in the mean-time, his eyes laid on you. First, you thought it was an illusion your mind was playing on you, but then you glanced at him. He didn´t even move, waiting leaned against the wall and with his thumb, he was brushing against his lower lip. You noticed how the shirt under his jacket was an ever so dark green, it almost seemed black. It reminded you obviously of your, and his former house, Slytherin. None of the teacher would admit, but they all favored their old houses.

Dear Merlin, you prayed and your following reaction went by as you crossed your legs on the chair. A nudge from your friend brought you back into reality and you nodded quickly as you started practicing.

On Tuesday morning you took your extra time getting ready, also effected by the fact, that you couldn´t sleep anymore. With the night, came insecurities. He is your teacher, Y/N. He doesn´t want you like that. It´s all in your head. None of them stopped your from wearing your favorite leather skirt, which you usually only wore to parties, paired with a fishnet tights and a lose shirt with the Slytherin emblem on it.

Nadia, one of your closest friends watched you as you spun in your mirror a last time. “So, when are you going to tell me who the lucky guy is?” She asked grinning. You shook your head. “I think I need to figure some things about him first.” Nadia nodded, accepting the privacy you tried to keep. She knew you´d eventually talk if you were ready. Luckily for you, she didn´t even assume that your study date, wasn´t with a student today. You didn´t need to hide anything, Nadia knew you since your first day in Hogwarts, but something about your meeting with the Professor just felt forbidden. A sigh of relief escaped your mouth, because since your lesson yesterday, where Draco had stopped by, you were afraid of getting caught. You knew you shouldn´t be, nothing happened and the worst thing that could come out, is that you had a crush on the Professor half of the school had a crush on. But it continued to feel forbidden.

Then, finally the last lesson for the day was over, but your main event was just about to begin. You took a last breath before knocking at the door to his office. A simple “Come in”, followed. You never had been to Professor Malfoy´s office, he was a rather quiet teacher and kept everything besides the lesson to himself. Maybe you were just a little special?

He sat behind his large, dark wooden desk; his hands folded over his mouth as you entered. His blonde hair pushed back as usual. While he began some explaining, after you had sat down across from him. You studied the ingredients. To your left was a small pot and other utensils. The beginning went smooth and you began to wonder, what you were so nervous about. Something about being around him felt oh so natural to you. When you were 20 minutes into the potion making, you had to put in some beets, but they seemed to be not cuttable. Draco chuckled lowly and rose from his chair to walk over to you. “Like I said, it´s a tricky potion, mostly because the instruction in the book is a little off.” He leaned over your right shoulder and without any warning, not that it would have softened your inner shock, he took your hand holding the knife. “Here let me show you, that it is easier to press out the juice this way.” He remained standing next to you, you felt his breath on the skin of your neck. “Now the herbs”, he advised and pointed towards the small bottle of pre-mixed herbs on the table. You had to stand up to reach them, which you did, but when you turned back to the Professor, you underestimated the distance. Bumping into his chest, the small bottle glided out of your hands. But Draco always had been swift, his days as a seeker didn´t lay behind, and he caught the bottle with ease. A sharp breath escaped your mouth and within his movement, you leaned down as well. When his eyes flickered up, he found your face only inches away. Slowly the two of you ascended. You voice felt like a shaking mess when you opened your mouth. “I´m so sor-“

Draco put the bottle on the desk, then his hand came to the back of your neck to pull you in. His simple touch was enough, your body reacted alone and you drew yourself closer to his body. Your hands glided up on his chest, up to his neck, while one of his hands travelled down from your back until resting on your waist. His tongue slipped across your lip until you let him enter. Adrenaline kept shooting through your veins and when his strong hands arrived at your butt, you were sure that you had a heart disfunction. Without any warning, not that he was the type to warn you, Draco lifted you onto the desk. A few ingredients fell down, which didn´t seem to bother neither of you and while continuing to heavily kiss each other, you slowly leaned back on the table.

“Y/n”, Draco moaned in between kisses and the pure sound of his low voice gave you a grin.

“We shouldn´t be doing this.” He was right and yet you didn´t stop.

“Why not, Professor?” Your voice dripped like honey and when using the word Professor, you could´ve sworn he flinched. His hand quickly grabbed your neck and while he tilted your head closer to his face, you bit your lip. “I told no one that I´d be here today.”

“Fuck”, he groaned again and you felt something hardening between his legs…

She said, "It's for all the right reasons, baby

Don't care 'bout grades, just call me your lady

If I pass this quiz, will you give me your babies?

Don't call me crazy

You sat outside, Nadia and two of your other friends seated around a table with a bank. You all decided to study together for the upcoming exams, but your mind wasn´t functioning after the past day. Nadia pushed her pen into your side. “Huh?”

You flinched and looked at her irritated. “Are you even listening? You´ve been so distant lately?”

The other girls nodded agreeing. “Haven´t slept well, stress I guess.”

Luckily, they didn´t have time to question your excuse when a group of Slytherin guys approached. They had just finished their Quidditch practice, still glowing in an ever slightly sweat, only wearing tops with exposing their trained arms. Your friends immediately hushed, clearly interested in what they wanted. You caught eye of a certain Professor leaning against the wall from the hallway leading parallel to the yard. You blinked and suddenly leaned in to join the conversation as well.

“You know about our game on Saturday, we could use a little cheering.” Aaron asked, number one fuckboy of the school. “So, you´re saying you need us to win?” You asked provocatively, knowing well that Draco was watching you. Aaron let out a laugh and leaned closer to you. “No, but it would give us some motivation if we´d win some pretty girls like you.”

Usually you weren´t interested, especially since Aaron tried to hit on you since third grade. But now with him watching, you had suddenly the most interest in him since Merlin´s death. Even after what had happened, you were sure to show him, that you weren´t anybody´s to own.

You touched Aaron´s arm and started running up and town with your fingertips. “So, what do you expect from me when you win?” The eye contact you were establishing with him barely gave you enough view on Draco´s angry expression. “How about we talk about it on the party afterwards?”

One of Aarons tipped him anxiously on the shoulder. “Professor Malfoy is-“

“Schneider, aren´t you supposed to be in detention for punching some second grader?”

You didn´t know which look was better; Aarons face dropping when hearing about his punishment, your friends trying to hold in the laughter, or Professor Malfoy boiling in anger by your shameless flirting. Oh wait, you did know.

“Miss Y/L/N, you wanted some more information about the potion you asked me about?”

Scrambling together your study things, you stumbled after your Professor, offering your friends a sympathetic smile. “Sorry”, you mouthed them. But they had already focused on the remaining Quidditch boys, not even suspecting.

You love me, but you won't come save me

Don't know why you even need me

Teacher's pet

If I'm so special, why am I secret?

Yeah, why the fuck is that?

You entered the office after him, he hurried to close and even look the door. It was still the middle of the day. Immediately after he grabbed you, pushing you against the next best wall, your study pad fell to the floor. “What Professor, haven´t I been a good girl?”

He knew you were pushing it, but it worked, so why stop? “Maybe, if I was a bad student, you should give me attention as well?”

His hand ripped open the blouse with the green symbols on it, and his lips didn´t waste anytime and travelled down your body. “I have something else for in mind.”

A knock on the door let the both of startled. “Professor Malfoy? Draco?”

It was Professor Longbottom, he had recently started teaching as well. You knew that the two of them were together in school and Draco´s eyes were still widened when he pulled up his pants again, panic spreading.

“One second, Longbottom.”

He looked around, while you gathered your stuff. “The desk.” He advised and while you crawled under the luckily large desk which gave you a good hideout due to the many drawers, Draco sat down as well. With a wink of his wand the door was unlocked and swung open.

Neville and Draco had their differences back then, but now they seemed to almost get along. “Why did you lock the door?” He asked absent minded while bringing some files to the desk. You saw the shadows of his feet under the desk. “Some students had fun playing some pranks and I needed quiet to grade those papers.” You listened interested; your class had given some papers just last week which were supposed to get marked…

While the two teachers exchanged some courtesies, you realized that the fly of his pants was still opened. When your hand reached into the hole of his pants, you observed how Draco panic-stricken grabbed the rim of the desk. You could only imagine how much it took him to make Longbottom not notice anything.

The door closed behind Neville and Draco rolled back on his chair, his hand grabbing your wrist.

“What do you think you´re doing? Do you know what happens if we´ll get caught?” You ignored the comment and fluttered with your long lashes. “Are those our papers you have to mark?”

Do you regret the things we shared that I'll never forget?

Well, do you? Tell me that

I know I'm young, but my mind is well beyond my years

I knew this wouldn't last, but fuck you, don't you leave me here

Teacher's pet

If I'm so special, why am I secret?

You weren´t some kind of possession to win, you weren´t a cheerleader to dance after some whistle either. But you did clap each time Aaron shot a goal. And you then shot a daring glare over to the stand with the teachers seated. Afterall the Gryffindor´s had a difficult start to the season and Slytherin won. Which then led to the follow-up party hosted in the Slytherin Common Room. As so often within the past weeks, you had decided to wear something off-showing, a green silk dress. Aaron had tried to catch you immediately after the game, but you slipped away. You managed to get in four full cups of alcohol infused drinks, before Aaron caught up to you, a sheepish grin on his lips.

“We won”, he added. You let out a chuckle. “I saw that.”

His dark eyes scanned up and down your body. “You look good”, he commented and you nodded yet again. Poor Aaron, didn´t know that it wasn´t him to make you feel bold this evening.

One thing led to another and within the next ten minutes, you were in his lap casually enjoying a light make out session. You sighed, leaning back to get some distance from his thirsty lips. You knew as long as you remained in the safe walls of the common room, you wouldn´t get what you wanted.

Leaning closer to his ear, you whispered; “Let´s get out of here.”

Aaron was desperate, the grin he wore when people saw you two leaving together was disgusting you. You found a nice, quiet niche and landed back in his lap. “Aren´t you afraid of getting caught?” Aaron asked while placing wet kisses down your neck. “Nope.”

“Malfoy´s office is close.”

“I know.”

“Mister Schneider, Misses Y/L/N! Care to explain?”

Aaron flinched when hearing Professor Malfoy´s voice and slightly pushed you off his lap. But you stayed seated and leaned even closer to Aaron. “Detention, and 10 points get taken away from Slytherin, for each of you!”

Aaron wasn´t one to protest, or stand up for himself. He did however hurry back into his chamber.

“Detention?” You asked lingering and fetched the rim of his suit to pull him closer. “I´d prefer to get some private lessons to make up for it.”

But Draco pulled you up by your wrist, yanking you on your feet. “Don´t take this easily, Y/n. This is not a game, if people find out, I´ll lose my job and you´re probably getting expelled.”

She's feeling like a spider in a cage

You liar, you were her desire

Now she wants to light you on fire

He stared at the blank spot you had left behind. He remembered the pain in your eyes, the verge of tears. He knew it was a mistake, he had known from the very first second. But you were young and wild, like hurricane and he had reached the quiet middle. It had begun as a game, but Draco was just realizing, that things were getting out of control. He needed to end this, but how?

The entire weekend, no one saw you. Not your friends, not your roommates, not the other students or teachers. But you were there, hanging on his shadow like a ghost. It was driving you insane, what started out as fucking around with the Professor, had turned into more. You had fallen for him.

When you came to class on Monday, you didn´t look good. Deep dark circles under your matt eyes, no makeup, your skin pale. Everything you wished for, was to finish school and graduate as quickly as possible. So, you started focusing back on studying. It worked well and the first weeks after your recent encounter with Draco, you skipped the potion class.

It must have been around three weeks later, when Draco overheard your friends talking after class on Friday afternoon.

“No, I barely see her as well. She runs off after class claiming to study”, Nadia explained trying to keep quiet. “Study? She´s never at the library!” Amber added.

“You think it´s about Aaron?”

“Aaron´s a dickhead.”

The girls disappeared and Draco blinked, continuing to stare into the empty wall. He needed to talk to you, but if your friends didn´t even know where you were... It hit him like a brick, when remembering his not so pleasant school times; The room of requirements.

You didn´t want your friends to find you, but a weak, almost mute voice wanted Draco to find you. It was the only reason, why he was able to find the magical door that afternoon. Within the years, the room had begun to transform back into what it once was. Useless objects and furniture laying around, not in the amount it used to be. But Draco followed the music that played loudly on an old gramophone. Several school books and loose papers written with notes were spread on the floor around you. He spotted three empty wine bottles and who knew what was in the rolled cigarette hanging loosely from the corners of your mouth. Your eyes were fixed on the ceiling, which reminded you of a baroque church you had once visited. Draco accidentally dripped against an empty bottle, but you didn´t flinch or look up. Unsure of what exactly to do, Draco sat down a few feet next to you. He eyed the herb rests, which you had used. As a Professor, he could easily tell them apart.

To conclude; you were high.

“So that´s what you do when you don´t come to my class.”

Abruptly you sat up and fired glaring shots at him. Draco feared you would start screaming, so angry you looked, but then you suddenly relaxed again. “I´m studying different effects of certain herbs.”

Then a pause. The smoke you exhaled glided through the air. “What do you want?”

What did he want?

He came to talk, talk like an adult, about commitments, obligations and shit. But the moment he saw you, he melted. Was it the anger in your eyes, the puffy shadows from crying, your pouting lips or the air filled with smoke? Whatever it was holding him back, he threw the plan to talk into the trash.

“Wanna get high with me?”

But fuck it, she'll still give you a call

And a lighter when you wanna get high

And mess around 'til you get numb

She said, "It's for all the right reasons, baby

Don't care 'bout grades, just call me your lady

If I pass this quiz, will you give me your babies?

Don't call me crazy

The clock from the astronomy tower tolled midnight. You laid in Draco´s arm on the satin couch in the room of requirements. A simple blanket covering to two of you. The breathing calmed down slowly while your fingertips traced circles on his bare chest.

Oh, you knew why he had come to find you. Talk, talk, talk. All bullshit.

Your fantasies about your Professor had turned, it wasn´t purely physical, you wanted to go on dates. Go out. Stay in. Hold hands.

After all, you should’ve seen it coming. It was inevitable.

Draco opened his mouth; his thoughts had spiraled over the same topic obviously.

You sat up. “Don´t, Draco.”

Turning to face him, your hand traced along the side of his face, to his jawline and stopped at his chest, where his hand caught yours. “You never said my name.”

Because he wasn´t Draco to you before, he was Professor Malfoy.

“Draco”, you repeated.

“Y/n.”

“Professor Malfoy.” His lazy smile dropped.

“158.”

“What?” Draco sat up as well, pushing strand of your hair back. “In 158 days I will graduate.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “From Monday on, I will come to every class. I will call you Professor, I will answer the questions, but out of the class. We will not talk. Not for school, not private.”

You slipped away from the warmth of the blanket, swinging your legs over the couch and gathering your clothes.

“But you will wait all 158, until I´m done with you. Because I´m not your pet to fuck around with.”

You love me, but you won't come save me

You got a wife and kids, you see them daily

Don't know why you even need me

Teacher's pet

If I'm so special, why am I secret?

Yeah, why the fuck is that?

Do you regret the things we shared that I'll never forget?

Well, do you? Tell me that

I know I'm young, but my mind is well beyond my years

I knew this wouldn't last, but fuck you, don't you leave me here

Teacher's pet

If I'm so special, why am I secret?

158… 150… 130… 113… 100… 76… 43… 28… 10…

Every beginning was hard, and so was the beginning of the countless days as it felt to you. But even so one, the nights where you silently cried yourself to sleep became less and your unsteady heartbeat towards the potion classes became dead silent. Every ounce of feeling you had left, you buried, literally. A shirt you had once stolen, notes from him, everything. You burned it on a full moon night and dug a deep hole in the forest, swearing under your heavy breath.

One day 15 you told Nadja. She was clearly shocked to begin with, but after she heard every detail, she hugged you tightly. Explaining that she would never judge you due to that fact. She asked why you hadn´t told her earlier, why you went through the biggest part of your heartbroken times alone. You didn´t have an answer though.

Your parents were very pleased by your sudden interest to graduate as possibly best. Often had they criticized your party behavior, both being pureblooded Slytherins. However, your grades went only up through your heavy studying, as you came back to mind, you realized that Draco, wasn´t the best teacher. In his possession you found last notes from the half-blood prince, important hints to good potion-making. Why he hadn´t taught anyone them? Who knew. You didn´t question him though and you both held the promise. None of you talked to each other.

It was day five. The last exams were over and your last days in school were spent by playing pranks, parties, cozy get-togethers and cutting class. You found yourself to appreciate the beauty of school, friends and young-adulthood again, knowing well that time was almost up.

Then the graduation ball; a truly beautiful evening.

Together with your girlfriends you got ready, without magic, without talking or gossiping. It was all on the memories you had made together. You wore a long golden dress, absolutely ball worthy fitted with green details, representing your house a last time. Before the doors to the great hall, you all took a deep breath. It was then when you caught an eye of Professor Malfoy. He stood aside, looking out the window, eyes focused on the astronomy tower. “I´ll catch up to you”, you explained and Nadia threw you a worried glance, when she noticed the Professor as well. But you shrugged and stepped closer to him. A feeling of nostalgia drew you to him and for the first time, it felt like you were actually strong enough to face him.

Without turning his eyes from the window, he spoke up. “You look stunning.”

He must have seen you through the reflection and you remembered times where your heart would jumped at a comment like this.

“I looked through your exams, you did very well, better than I back then.”

“My grades were never depending from your teaching or yourself.”

“I know.” Finally, he turned away from the window to face you. But you stood still and sturdy. “I appreciate how you didn´t tell anybody.”

“You should focus more on your teaching methods than your students.”

He paused, still struck back by your stern expression. “I guess I always learned more from you, than you from me”, he chuckled. It was the first time in a long time that you heard his voice chuckle and even you cracked a small smile.

“I wanted to give you this.” He gave you a dark satin bag, and you immediately opened your mouth to protest. He didn´t give you a chance to do so and placed a kiss on your cheek, before wandering back into the halls of Hogwarts. Was it a goodbye? Maybe.

You carefully opened the small bag, which revealed a golden necklace with a crystal? No… It seemed to be a diamond. Not sure how to assess the present, you put it back in the bag. You had every right to be angry for the expensive present, but surprisingly you weren´t.

A gust of different feelings hit you instead, some bad, other on a more positive side. But you weren´t going into detail with them, it was your evening and you were planning on enjoying it. You had given up too much energy on bad things.

Gimme back my money

Didn't learn a damn thing, honey, from you

Except how to lie and cheat while inside the sheets

Stop calling me your bunny

I won't hop and you don't own me

Do you? I bet you think you do

Well, you don't

16 days over the margin of the days between breakup and graduation, you had spent your weeks in freedom at your parents. Technically seen, it was all over, at least you thought so. You met up with Nadia and other friends, even ran into Aaron in London. And even though it had barely been to weeks, it already felt like years to you. Facing now new duties, you had started thinking about a job, but you hadn´t decided yet. If it was up to your parents, you were basically up to marry (preferably a pureblood). You argued against that in a strong matter, like you so often did, but they did still throw a little after graduation party for you. Most of your friends, as well as their families came. But even more friends from your parents were invited. It was more a show-off event.

You had settled on a simple black dress for the evening, but your mind then slipped to Draco´s present and it might have been stupid, but you decided to wear it. When you walked down the stairs, most of the guests had already arrived. Your eyes fell to your group of friends and you smiled at them. But firstly, you joined your parents, both of them complimenting on your looks, but then you noticed the third person standing with them. You recognized her. “Y/n, this is Narzissa Malfoy.”

Your smiled twitched, but you kept it up. For your own sake mostly. “We think you should really meet her son; he is still single.”

You rolled your eyes at your mother´s comment. But then Narzissa spoke up, she didn´t seem to bothered about the rather unfitting comment. She wore the grey, black strands of hair in an elegant updo, but she seemed exhausted. You knew that the Malfoy´s had avoided the public long, it didn´t need to be explained why. “I think you already know him, wasn´t he your Professor?”

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

Wondering for a second, if she knew something, or if she knew the necklace you were wearing. If she did, she didn´t give it away. “Draco, come here, would you?”

She waved and the tall blonde joined your small group. You hadn´t seen him before, which made you somewhat proud. You weren´t anymore too focused on him. And even though he was a guest in your house for your party, he still seemed surprised. Maybe he had hoped to avoid you. For a split second he starred at the necklace and his eyes glistened.

“Y/n.” “Professor.”

Your mother nudged your side. “He isn´t your teacher anymore, I don´t think he minds you calling him by his first name.” She whispered, but was still loud enough for every one to hear.

Oh, he wouldn´t.

Your father smiled awkwardly at your mother´s behavior, pulling her slightly away. “I think Y/n, is in good hands, we should greet the other guests.”

Left alone with Malfoy, you took a few steps away from the crowd.

“They´re right, I´m not your teacher anymore.” Draco cleared his throat. It was like he was actually trying to say something, but nothing followed.

“But am I still your pet?”

Teacher's pet

If I'm so special, why am I secret?

Yeah, why the fuck is that?

Do you regret the things we shared that I'll never forget?

Well, do you? Tell me that

I know I'm young, but my mind is well beyond my years

I knew this wouldn't last, but fuck you, don't you leave me here

Teacher's pet

@feelthefeelingsinsideyou @illuminateshawnm @imaginesforlotsofthings @suburbiasqueen

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy #Tom Felton #harry potter imagine #mariamermaidimagine

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