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toruforuu · 15 days ago

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gojo satoru x reader || hogwarts au (18+)

wonderwall chp.7 golden eulogies

✼pairing: hogwarts au - slytherin!gojo x ravenclaw!reader

✼summary: gojo satoru, the golden boy of a famous family lineage of wizards sets his sights on you, a half blood defying his pureblood morals. he makes it a goal in his life to make yours a living hell. years of endless pestering, teasing and rivalry stretching out. as times goes on, he finds himself thinking about you more than he isn’t. he grows torn between his family’s beliefs and the forbidden ache tickling his chest whenever he sees you

✼meaning: wonderwall - the person you cannot stop thinking about (song by oasis)

✼genre/tags: hogwarts au, female reader, strangers to enemies/sort of academic rivals to forbidden lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut, pining and yearning (mostly gojo), built up tension, teasing, bickering and pestering, jealousy, slightly spoiled gojo, obsessed and lovesick gojo, both are pretty oblivious to their feelings

✼warnings: discrimination, death, grief, shitty parents, light bullying, mentions of hook ups, sexual topics, family pressure and trauma, mentions of injuries and violence, degradation, mentions of political views, escalating political situation, lgbtq representation, cheating

✼word count: 10.9k

✼chapter: 7/?

a/n: what’s up guys:) this genuinely turned out to be one of my favs chapters i’ve ever written lmaoo. i looked forward to writing this one ever since i planned out the whole timeline, had to alter it a lot as my ideas kind of just come together as write. hopefully u don’t mind the longer chapters, lemme know if you’d prefer them shorter!

based on this // previous chapter // next chapter (pending…)

˚⟡˖ ࣪: link to playlist

˚⟡˖ ࣪: link to vision-board

Both of you agreed upon restricting your meetings and keeping them out of everyone’s sights. Throughout the next couple of weeks you act like the other doesn’t exist, but when the clock strikes midnight, you’re off to see each other. Every other night you’d meet at the very top of The Astronomy tower, because seeing each other at the edge of The Forbidden forest appeared to be far riskier and less accountable for. In those past weeks, you only went out to see the stag two times. Each time the same as the previous one, the magical being put together by mist patiently waiting and then disappearing into nothingness.

You discussed the possibility of the Patronus living on and wandering with your professor. The same one who offered you extra lessons. He confirmed that the owner of the Patronus truly would have to be dead in order for it to happen.

It provided you with no new information, but at least it felt like you were getting somewhere.

Overbearing hopes of solving the mystery behind the creature begin to decease as time went on, and the two of you remained unsuccessful in your mission. So many questions, so very few books written about it.

Could the appearance be connected to the Dementors floating around the school grounds?

Is it protecting something, or rather someone?

Frustration was swift to bloom due to the lack of answers.

“Sneaking off again?” a quiet voice asks sleepily in the darkness of your dorm-room just as your hand reaches for the handle. You stop in your tracks, heart pounding hard against your ribs as you’ve been caught by your best friend. You’ve shared the circumstances, not immediately, but you did as there’s nothing you can keep from here for too long. Arabella understood you chose to keep it a secret due to her state of mind.

That still doesn’t mean she approves of anything, quite the opposite actually.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually investing yourself into it,” Arabella goes on as you remain utterly silent, your back turned to her with head hanging low and your eyes glued to the wooden door. Her tone isn’t harsh nor meant to strike you, nonetheless, it irks you. Because you know she’s right to disagree with your choice.

“Didn’t your mom tell you to stay away?” her reminder stings, making you finally turn around to face her. Even if she can’t properly see you in the dead of the night — you yourself can barely map out her silhouette.

“Once we figure it out, it’s going back to normal,” you reassure her which causes her to let out a soft sigh, sounding defeated.

“A week ago you were here spiralling that he’s some evil mastermind, and now you’re helping him?” Arabella genuinely can’t see a single reason that turned you from a conspiracy lunatic to actually joining the suspicious outings, despite knowing the truth behind them.

“I told you what happened,” you mumble, tired of explaining of what she’s unable to grasp.

“I don’t want you to get into trouble. It’s still the same Gojo Satoru we’re talking about,” she exclaims, her tone suggesting protectiveness which you appreciate.

“It’s temporary,” you utter and it seems those two words change the course of the conversation towards the end.

Arabella blinks in the darkness, huffing out a sound of surrender.

“Be careful, okay?” is all she manages to come up with, no longer keeping you from going.

“Promise,” and with that you slip out of the door, tiptoeing your way through the common room and the empty corridors which give off sinister vibes under the blanket of the night.

As you reach your destination, you notice the ink-black sky, scattered with stars that feel just out of reach as you climb up the rough stone ledge of the Astronomy Tower. There’s only the light coming from your wand to guide you. A cool scrape of stone beneath your fingers as you hold for security, occasional flutterings of panic in your chest when you sense your foot slipping.

You swing your leg over the parapet, landing softly on the narrow ledge at the top of the stairs. The tower looms above the castle, still and ancient. The crispy wind rushes past like it’s trying to drag you over the railing, it sends shivers down your spine. Both the cold of the upcoming winter hanging in the air and the immense height of the building. You press yourself against the stone, catching your breath to realise you’re alone, he’s not here yet.

The courtyard below looks like a shadowy map, the sky above spread out along with the lake — limitless. You step forward slowly, boots leaping off the cold stone. Your hands reach for the railing, the metal cold.

You wait, arms crossed, heart beating with the thrill of the climb. It’s a completely different experience in the night.

Each minute stretches out like a thread, the silence around you stitched only with the distant hoot of an owl and the soft rustle of leaves. You glance back toward the entrance, half expecting him to appear out of nowhere like a ghost. At the heart of the tower is a massive orrery — a mechanical model of rings that orbit the solar system. It’s draped in a cloak of darkness, the outlook of it eerie. You sigh lightly and proceed to bend your body down to the level of the telescope, eyeing the constellations sprawled across the night sky.

You grow impatient and the chilly weather causes you to shake, which makes you pull your robe tighter against your body.

“Sorry, got held back for a little,” the white haired wizard makes his presence known, your body hitching a little at the unexpected sound. You straight your posture to glance over your shoulder, meeting his gaze for acknowledgment.

“It’s okay, I didn’t find anything new anyway,” you shrug carelessly and crouch down to so sit by the railing. Legs dangling in the hollow space while the wintery breeze dances with the strands of your hair, tangling them together into knots.

“Yeah, me neither,” he agrees, stepping near the railing, leaning into it to observe the stars.

“I asked the professor during my additional lessons one more time, and he simply confirmed what we already knew,” your announcement makes him hum softly. You turn your head up to catch a glimpse of him, locks of his white hair curling due to the wind in a similar way.

“What of your extra lessons, doing any better?” with that his body motions to take a seat, throwing his legs over the edge as well. As if in response to that, you drape your arms over the metal bar of the railing and rest your chin on top of it.

“Still not able to conjure up the full form, getting there though,” you share your progress with him, regarding your Patronus. At first, you didn’t mean to tell him, but combing lies into it seemed stupid when the professor could’ve helped you on your hunt for answers. So you did mention your troubles to the Slytherin, expecting him to pester you about it. Surprisingly that never occurred, or at least it wasn’t spoken in between you.

“Good, assumed it would be easy for ya with some extra help,” he snickers with ease, orbs darting towards the sky. Mimicking your tracing of the constellations.

“And let me take a wild guess — you can,” you let out with embroidered irony, deducting the assumption from his effortless ways. You’d be shocked if he wouldn’t agree.

“Without a doubt,” he props himself onto his elbows as he speaks with his usual kind of natural confidence.

Of course he can.

You lightly chuckle, rolling your eyes even though it goes unnoticed by him.

“We’re not cracking it, are we?” you navigate the direction back to your original topic, peaking at him from the corner of your eyes. His eyes are shut as he leans back, trusting his elbows to hold him up — appearance hauntingly angelic under the gaze of the moon.

“I suppose not, but it was one hell of an adventure. You gotta admit it,” one of his orbs cracks open to look back at you while a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, pushing you to admit it was somewhat nice to step out of the circle of your comfort zone.

“It wasn’t bad,” you draw out with a short breath, not giving him the full satisfaction of a confession. Though it was rather thrilling. Having something meant to stay hidden, shared only with a handful of people. Lurking through the castle, meeting here at the tower late into the day had you in a magical chokehold. It smelled forbidden, and it tugs at your heartstrings that this is probably the end of the abnormality you two worked together for.

Satoru simply laughs out, finding your stubbornness amusing.

“I should go to bed, I have to get up early in the morning,” you voice out as the remains of his laughter ring through your ears, the chill of the night creeping onto you as you sit on the freezing rocky floor. You decide to carefully get up on your feet.

“L/N, wait,” his hand flies out, stopping in realisation few inches away from yours. It hovers in the air as his piercing orbs stare up at you, the action making you freeze in movement.

“Tell me another of your stories from the muggle world,” you blink down at him with confusion, wondering what it is that he’s hinting at with his words.

It comes to you a second later as his head cocks to the side, hand awkwardly moving back down.

The night before the attack at the world cup, when you told him the story behind the constellation’s name. That’s what he means.

“Please?” he coos mischievously before you manage to refuse him, and with that you can’t bring yourself to turn him down. You sit back down, doing as he intended which pleases him, but he keeps it to himself.

“Only one though, I wasn’t lying when I said I have a busy day tomorrow,” you mumble under your breath as you nestle your body to sit comfortably on the cold floor, already thinking of which story to tell. There’s so many, multiple of them come rushing to you.

“Get to it then,” he encourages.

“They’re not stories, by the way. They’re called myths or legend, and there’s hundreds of them,” you correct him mindlessly out of habit before you start telling him the history of one of the legends, and he’s okay with it.

“Okay, so The Trojan War is a legendary conflict that arose from a handful quarrels in between the Gods. The last drop was, when a youthful prince of Troy stole Helen of Sparta — the most beautiful of all women and made her fall in love with him. When her husband, also known as the Spartan king, realised Helen had left him for Paris of Troy, he called upon all the kings and princes of Greece to wage war upon Troy,” you kick off with the myth, the one that used to be your favourite when you were little. Your father had to repeat the story in great detail each night as you were about to drift off to sleep. It feels strangely comforting to be the one telling it now.

“He got his brother, Agamemnon, to lead a voyage to find her and get her back. Agamemnon was able to get other Greek heroes, such as Odysseus and Achilles to join him on this adventure. They have their own stories, but that’s for another time,” your eyes slide towards the Slytherin to reassure yourself he’s indeed listening and not doing this for laughs.

One peak at him and you could he’s serious.

“The Trojan War lasted for ten years and it was filled with loads of pointless battles and deaths. It finally ended when the Greeks retreated from camp and left behind a large wooden horse outside the gates of the city. Troyans debated on if they should bring the wooden horse in, and regardless of many warnings, they still brought it inside,” you sense the intensity of his attention, your eyes flickering in between the sky painted with starts and him.

“The wooden horse was a plan made by Odysseus to end the war. The wooden horse was designed to be hollow in the middle so that soldiers could hide inside. After the Trojan Horse was left at the gates, the Greeks sailed away, leaving someone behind. That someone was able to convince the Trojans that the Greeks had retreated from the war and that the horse was a gift that would ultimately give the Trojans a fortune. However, once nighttime fell, the horse opened up and the Greek soldiers came out. From the inside of the city, the Greeks were able to destroy the city of Troy and win the war,” you speak deliberately, carefully and slow enough to be sure he isn’t lost in your retelling.

“As I said the myth aligns with countless others,” you chuckle nervously, afraid you bored him even though he was the one to ask you to share another legend with him.

“I wonder how muggles came up with these stories. They’re good,” his head moves up and down in agreement, barely noticeable and perhaps unbeknownst to his acknowledgment. His curiousness brushes the anxiety off your chest and is quick to provide relief.

“Myths,” he corrects himself as he’s quick to recall your previous words.

“They created their own source of magic, is what my father always says,” you’re hesitant to share any more of you with him, however, you deem none of it could be turned against you and made into a weapon.

“Does he share a lot of these legends with you?” his brows arch up in wonder ever so slightly.

“He’s the reason I know them by heart,” you say while getting off the ground for good this time. The white haired wizard follows, heading towards the stairs leading down to the shadowy hallways.

“Last thing before we go,” he mumbles once you reach the end of the stairs.

“Yeah?” you question curiously, turning towards the corridor.

“Come to the Slytherin common room tomorrow. There’s gonna be a party to celebrate the start of the quidditch season,” he spills out, precisely when you reach the crossroad, each of the directions navigating you to your dormitories.

“You’re inviting me to one of your infamous parties?” you whisper into the silent hallway, expressing cross with mild shock.

“Every quidditch player is invited,” he replies simply, scanning your features illuminated by the shimmer of moonlight.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you answer honestly, anxiety rising within your system as scenarios of getting caught here cross your mind.

“You can bring your friends,” Satoru suggests casually, hand sliding into the pocket of his greenish robe.

“I’ll think about it,” you nod.

“Yeah, do that,”

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈┈┈•• ✼

You step through the stone entrance along with the twins and Arabella as it slithers open, a whisper of magic brushing past your skin like a warning, or maybe a welcome. The wall slides shut behind you like a secret sealing itself shut, shutting you into the room. The Slytherin common room has been completely transformed. The usual dim and dignified glow is gone, replaced by flickering green flames that twist unnaturally along the carved stone walls, casting shadows that move like they’ve got minds of their own. The room feels alive. Buzzing with noise, energy and heat. Music thunders from a charmed gramophone in the corner, pulsing with a beat that drives straight through your spine.

The party isn’t for just anyone. Gojo didn’t lie, when he highlighted the fact his infamous parties are impossible to get into. People always whispers about them in the hallways as you circle through them, speculations of students who’ll never see the inside of this room.

You recognise familiar players from the field, their inner circles and of course, the Slytherins. No other exceptions. It’s a celebration of the season's beginning, and not a lot of students get an invitation. If it weren’t for quidditch, you probably wouldn’t see the inside of the room either and neither would your friends.

The fireplace is roaring, green and gold embers shooting high and crackling like they’re alive. The smell of fire-whisky lingers in the air as you move. There’s a certain glamour to it all, the kind of dangerous, sharp-edged beauty only Slytherin can pull off without trying. Players lounge like royalty on the velvet cushions, still half in uniform, cheeks flushed from the anticipation and whatever’s in their cups.

As you and your friends step fully into the space, eyes slide toward you — quick glances, smirks, raised glasses and small greetings. You're acknowledged by your fellow teammates. You somehow belong to this small circle of society, place earned due to playing for years, however, it doesn’t ease you down. And you still feel a sense of not fitting in, claiming your space elsewhere.

You feel the energy pulling you in though, tempting you to lose yourself in it for the night. No rules, no professors, no expectations — just the start of a season that promises everything. You exchange a glance with your friends, unsure of what to do and somehow instantly regret accepting this invitation.

“Girl, are you hundred percent sure you’ll be alright? You know that Margaret’s gonna be here,” the younger of the twins Beatrice carefully hints as you stand on the edge of the room with crowd of bodies moving to the rhythm of the music in the centre. Arabella has been warned the second you mentioned the invitation. Dorothy with Beatrice basically convinced you into going, they too wanted to experience the thrill of joining one of the infamous Slytherin parties before your time at Hogwarts comes to an end.

“Told you I’ll be fine,” Arabella responds with a slight shrug of her shoulders, to brush away your worries. Regardless of her reassurance, you’re not baffled by it. You know your friend all too well. It hasn’t been two whole weeks since they took their break, seeing her surely wouldn’t do her any good. And even though it’s not possible to not bump into her here, she demanded she’d go with you.

None of you doubt her words aloud, despite the looks shared between you and the twins.

Dorothy is the bravest out of you as she begins to crush through the crowd, shielding you and providing an easy path to join the others on the dance floor. If it can be called a dance floor. In reality, it’s just the space of the common room, couches and armchair hidden somewhere in the corner. The music is much louder as you reach the center, crowd thicker as well. Shoulder to shoulder with people you barely recognise, elbows brushing against someone’s robe and arms nudging you admits dancing. It’s all laughter, shouted greetings, some are already tipsy. A crunch cracks under your foot as you step onto cups thrown on the carpet, the dance floor looks half like a battlefield.

You grab Arabella’s hand to spin her without a warning, when you stop somewhere near the center, and she’s cracking a laugh before she even starts moving. The rhythm takes over her, making her forget the circumstance for a little while. The world outside doesn't matter. Right now, it’s just the music, the forest green glow and the fierce movement of bodies. Regardless of your previous caution and conspiracies to skip this one, you find yourself letting go of your baggage too.

The music swirls you into your own worlds, hips swaying to the rhythm while your hands float in the air. Both Beatrice and Dorothy are mindlessly enjoying themselves along with you, pulling dance moves together. However, it doesn’t go unnoticed how Arabella’s eyes fleet across the room in hopes of coming across a face she’s too keen to capture, the opposite of what she actually says. Your friend is too busy to be aware of the fact you’re following her gaze which is achingly scanning the bustling party for her one and only.

As you follow Arabella’s, your gaze picks on someone else instead. He’s standing a greater distance away from you, arms draped around the waist of his girlfriend. Their interlocked bodies pressed into one another and you can’t bring yourself to look away from his stupid ball of white fur. Your heart skips over a beat as his incandescent orbs lock in with yours. The maintenance of the contact is short lived, though those fractions felt much longer as you acknowledged each other’s presence over the sea of people.

When you redirect your curious gaze back to your friends, it’s easy to tell Arabella has already mapped out her target. And indeed, Margaret stands couple of feet away from the four of you. It’s strange how people can go to being strangers again, simply weeks ago you were all bathing in The Black lake and there she is now, avoiding looking in your direction. The corners of Arabella’s mouth twist downward and her movements die down, it causes you to gently grab her hand, which brings her attention back to you. One look passes between you and it’s enough.

You lean into her space, talking loudly near her ear so she could make out what you’re saying. You offer to fetch her a drink and at first she doesn’t look in favour of the idea, but eventually caves in as you agree to have one with her. Originally, you weren’t planning on having anything, yet seeing your friend so miserable changed your mind.

The table with all sorts of unknown liquors lays spread out near the fireplace, vast window right behind it. The glass is showered in droplets of water streaming down as the outside is nothing but darkness, lighting occasionally popping out. You hover above the table, cup already in hand, contemplating what to choose for you and Arabella, when a voice interrupts you all of a sudden.

“Want some help?” the sound of the masculine voice leaves you breathless for a second, so much that you don’t want to face him.

“No need,” you reply politely as your gaze still flickers in between the choices rather than at the person, pushing the moment when you must look up away.

“How are you holding up, preparing for the finals?” his hand reaches out for a bottle, dangerously close to you. You then gather up the courage to lift your gaze, immediately being met with a pair of tender amber eyes you’ve grown to love in the past. A little wave of nostalgia and hurt tugs at your heartstrings, the sight weakening you even all these years later.

“Pretty good, what about you?” you have no desire to drag out the interaction, your goal is to vanish from his peripheral vision, but you don’t have the heart to cut him and storm off. Therefore you push yourself to answer, questioning him in favour of your manners.

“Yeah, it’s alright,” the Gryffindor huffs out as he refills his cup, making you grab a bottle at random to finish what you came here for. You no longer wish to engage in anything with him, this situation makes you uncomfortable.

“Good,” you mumble, placing the cups on the wooden table and then pouring the inside of the bottle into it — smell heavy and musky.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you you’ve been on my mind these past few weeks,” his words feel like slap straight to your face. You place the bottle back at its place, scanning the cups as you’re too baffled to come up with an answer. Who does he think he’s?

“Have I?” your brows twitch, trying to hold back the irony lacing your voice.

“It’s like you had me drink the lovey dovey potion or sum,” he says without an ounce of shame and with that, the scenario of emptying the cups you pick up from the table at him rakes your mind. It doesn’t sound too bad.

“Okay, and the point?” this time, you’re unable to mask your surprise mixed in with disgust, brows furrowing in the process.

“I think we should maybe go out some time,” the sound of his voice is carefree, hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Then sliding into his blondish locks, tousling them into place.

“And I think not,” your response is immediate and you’re ready to bounce away.

“Come on, don’t be so uptight. We weren’t anything serious back then,” his laugh echoes in your ears like a punch to the gut, your vision spins and you’re left numb. Unsure whenever to come apart or laugh into his face.

“To you, maybe. Not to me,” your voice is low, barely audible in the busy environments, however there’s a bitter ring to it.

“You’re overthinking it now,” the tone of his voice doesn’t rise nor becomes unpleasant, yet you can see the change passing through his orbs.

“Gosh, leave me alone,” you finally snap which causes his features to falter further.

“Why can’t you-“

“You heard her, piss off, Gryffindor,” third person joins the conversation and upon a realisation who, your urge to disappear doubles. No, triples. The grip you have on the cups grows tighter and suddenly you feel overly insignificant, forgotten in between their frames.

“Since when did this become any of your concern, Gojo?” you don’t resist rolling your eyes at what your ex boyfriend has to say and as you try to slide your way back into the interaction, you’re cut off by the white haired menace who appeared out of nowhere.

“My party, my rules,” Satoru hisses, irritated as he cocks his head to the side. A clear signal for your ex partner to leave before things get ugly. Before he delivers his response, you already know his shallow ego won’t budge at the Slytherin’s demand.

“I’m not done talking to her,” your ex boyfriend exhales with confidence, posture straight. His eyes narrowed with annoyance fleet over to meet yours for a moment, which pushes you to breathe out and to firmly nod at him. Pleading to take his leave without much fuss.

“Fuck off before I break your jaw again,” Satoru declares with the most bragging smirk you’ve ever seen and you almost choke, reminded of their previous encounter. You watch your ex boyfriend’s face crinkle — anger and resentment. With a pitiful frown, he indeed listens and gets lost in the crowd. Leaving you two alone. And for the first time in eternity, you’re glad for Satoru Gojo’s presence. You’re aware the Gryffindor wouldn’t let you go easily, not when he had you right where he wanted to. Alone.

“Don’t you think you over did it a little?” you blink away your surprise, mouth slightly ajar as you go over what just happened. You’re so unbelievably in disbelief that you take a sip of the liquor you randomly picked as your ex boyfriend invaded your space.

“Nah, spoke the truth,” you can barely hear him due to the loud music, but you manage to make it out.

“I could’ve dealt with him on my own, you know,” your eyes peak down at your hand, holding the cups, as his blue coloured ones peep downward at you. You’re not mad at him for interfering, not at all. You wouldn’t say you’re entirely happy either, however, you’re at least glad you got ride of your ex boyfriend and meaningless encounter.

Though, you’re certain he will find you again.

“I’m sure you could, I simply made it easier for ya,” the white haired wizard winks at you, smugness and arrogance seeping out of him as always. Perhaps a tad more than normally as he’s overly intoxicated, alcohol flowing in his veins. You could tell he overdid it the moment he stumbled into the conversation. It’s pretty obvious when it comes to him.

“Whatever, Gojo,” you brush him off, not wanting to indulge in this interaction for long either since this is basically his territory and talking to the very starlet of the Slytherin house would definitely bring you unwanted attention. As a matter of fact, pairs of eyes are settling at you by now.

“Enjoy the party, precious,” his hand stretches out, bumping his cup into yours. A gesture symbolising simply what he said, yet the action leaves you thinking the moment was rather intimate. Your mind goes blank and by the time you’re ready to snap at him for using that godforsaken nickname, he’s long gone.

You lightly shake your head, balancing the cups in your hands to steady them before heading back into the crowd as well. Away from the crime scene.

“Did Satoru Gojo just save you?” Beatrice’s voice calls out, aligning with the tunes of the music. You silently hand Arabella one of the cups you’ve gone through hell for and drink a mouthful out of own.

“I wouldn’t use the word save,” you exhale lightly while shrugging your shoulders to appear nonchalant, despite the lingering sensation nestling heavily on your ribcage.

“We were about to go get you when the jerk started being too chatty, but before we could reach you, Gojo appeared,” Beatrice goes on with explaining how the situation went from their point of view.

“We thought we must be dreaming,” Dorothy adds, throwing her hands around and gesturing.

“It’s actually not so surprising, right, Y/N?” Arabella’s words take the air out of your lungs and you instantly want to dig a hole to hide in. She’s the only one who knows about your little adventures, you didn’t share your secrets with the Hufflepuff girls as you don’t deem it as reasonable nor necessary. And right now, you understand your roommate may be still quite upset with you for attending the secret outings, but you can’t help to not feel a tad betrayed.

“Arabella,” you plea but it’s too late, it’s been spoken out loud and the twins are now involved too.

“Gonna explain yourself?” both of the raven haired girls standing front of you cross their arms across their chest, awaiting your answer.

“Not here, later,” you breathe out in defeat, and with that the discussion ends. Part of you can’t glance straight into Arabella’s way, partially afraid and then also sort of irritated at her for spilling your secret which you entrusted her.

Without paying them much attention while your head spins with rising frustration, you excuse yourself and tell them you’ll find them later on. Before they can respond l, you’re nudging into the sea of people, carving your path out to catch a breather.

Your ex boyfriend, Gojo and now Arabella. What in the world is happening?

You find yourself a corner to hide in and lean back against the cold stone wall, arms crossed loosely. The bass of the music thrums through the floor, echoing in your ribs. Around you, the Slytherin common room is alive — drenched in flickering green lights, casting flashes of magic on the dancing people and their wild eyes, bodies moving like smoke in synchrony. They look untouchable. Laughter rises, spun with spells and something stronger in their drinks. If a professor was to barge in, the imagine would probably send them spiralling into having a heart attack.

You watch from your quiet corner, not really part of it, not really apart either. Just observing. Letting the scene blur into something unreal in front of you. It’s loud and beautiful in that reckless, untamed way that only Slytherins can pull off. And as they dance you feel like the only still thing in the room. A shadow with a heartbeat.

“Not having fun?” a familiar figure whose face you’re seeing a lot lately calls out as he drags himself in your direction, finding you once again. Shoulders slumped and a plastic cup filled with a bitter liquid in his left hand.

“It’s alright, but not my thing,” you shrug without any particular emotion as your back leans against the stone wall, hand gripping your own cup.

“What is your thing, that’s the real question,” he teases, hinting at the fact you find a way to complain about literally anything. But he means no real harm. His tone is visibly poking you. To which you merely snicker with an irritated under-layer before bringing the cup to your lips, taking another mouthful of the awfully tasting alcohol.

“Does he bother you often?” Satoru scoots over to you, leaning against the same wall handful of inches away from you, and then he nods towards the table with the punch and other sources of hard liquors. Your gaze slides in synchrony with his, landing on the guy you’ve been trying to avoid all night since the moment he approached you with such an audacity. Your ex boyfriend.

“You heard our conversation, I presume” you remark with a brows lightly lifted in curiosity, head rotating to peak at him. His flawless side profile to your display as he’s looking out into the crowd still, your eyes taking notice of his freshly trimmed undercut.

The emerald lighting paints him out to be painfully charming.

“Mostly, so does he? your head jerks away from him as the sound of his voice reminds you of your surroundings. It doesn’t surprise you that he did hear. You expected it since it’s him you’re talking about.

“Uh, no. Dunno what’s gotten into him,” you openly admit aloud, fingers dancing along the rim of the plastic cup. What you say is true, you weren’t in any contact from the moment he broke up with you and decided to go off dating the girl he was seeing at the same time as you.

Nothing serious, it angered you that’s what he thinks it was, because it for thousand percent was more than that to you.

“I think I do,” he lets out quietly after a set of silence, carefully searching the wave of bodies dancing across the room.

“You do?” you question, possible outcomes racing through your mind.

“I mean, yeah. It’s our last first semester and he’s realised what’s lost,”

“That sounds ridiculous,” you huff under your breath, your voice so muffled you for a moment think it was impossible for him to catch on.

You’re quickly proven otherwise.

“As as matter of fact, he’s watching us right now,”

“It doesn’t prove anything,” your head shakes a little in disbelief, refusing to put any trust in what he has to say.

“Watch what he does now,” his words escape his lips, barely registering them, but he’s already tilting his entire body your way. Taking steps to close the distance between your bodies. It happens too quickly, his movements reckless and hazy. One blink of your eyes and all of sudden, he’s barely inches away from you.

“Gojo- what are you-?” His eyes shine like sapphires glistening in the sunlight — big beautiful gems that watch your every move. However, they aren’t primarily focusing on your own set of orbs. No, much lower than that. You cannot stop your eyes from widening at the realisation, small gasp escaping your lips as you can’t resist peaking down at his lips either. And when he leans in even closer, narrowing the distance between you so much that your bodies nearly touch — he looks lyrical as he moves under the influence.

“Proving my point,” he nibs with a smirk stretching his mouth out, eyes still peaking down on you from his half hooded eyelids.

He’s drunk, you remind yourself as his close proximity causes an overwhelmingly nauseous sensation to take over you.

“Look at him, he’s so pathetic,” Satoru continues, demanding you look at your ex boyfriend with his charming way of words. Despite the acknowledgment of order, your eyes seem to not be able to peel away from his breathtaking appearance, you’ve never seen him up from this close. You don’t know where to look first, whenever at his porcelain skin or his iridescent globes. Strands of his locks are falling over his forehead, and you have to physically force yourself to tilt your gaze to the already mentioned direction. The sight of your ex boyfriend confirms the white haired wizard’s theory. He’s burning holes in your skull, yours and the Slytherin’s.

“I still don’t think this proves anything,” you shake your head a little, bringing yourself to reality as your mind is clouded with his aromatic scent —fresh like crispy winter morning.

He smells clean, bathed in peppermint.

Your resistance to admitting his suspicions urges are correct makes him lean in further. His shoulder brushes against yours and then he presses into you, definitely overcoming the unspoken set of boundaries between the two of you. You gather last bits of courage to glance upwards to meet his gaze, only discovering he’s still hypnotising you with that idiotic grin full of arrogance.

“Might not be obvious to you, but it sure is to everyone else,” he bends down to your level, head cocking towards your temple as he whispers into the shell of your ear, nose bumping into your skin. His warm breath prickling the side of your neck, the unfamiliarity of it causing your functions to cease at working. It reeks of alcohol. Your eyes once again slide towards your ex boyfriend while you swallow the bundle in your throat, anxious at the closeness you share with the white haired wizard. He’s indeed still watching the scene between you and Gojo playing out.

Your gaze maybe lingering on the Gryffindor, though your thoughts lie somewhere entirely else.

Your skin burns with his proximity as you can’t bring yourself to pull away. He doesn’t move either, he should’ve already but he isn’t budging.

His penetrating gaze slides over your features one last time, stopping at a certain part of your lower face before finally taking a step away. With that, you become highly aware of the world’s circumstances enveloping you again. Your gaze hardens, surveying the crowd as sets of orbs stare back in your way. It causes you to step away, the reality slowly enrolling back in your harbour.

It’s as if the white haired menace in front of you hops on the same wave as you, marching away and creating much appreciated distance. Neither of you speak, words dying on your tongue. Until he utters something under his nose, the words not audible. He nods towards the crowd which instantly causes you to turn to the dance floor, eyes landing on his girlfriend who’s a fellow member of his house. A cold sweat splashes at you, her firm expression certainly not meant as a joke. You attempt a smile. That only seems to worsen the situation.

And just like that, he’s slipping past you again.

Did you just imagine it?

You’re left standing in the shadow of green firelight again. Alone, drink in hand, pretending not to care, pretending not to look, but there he is. Sliding right back in the center of it all. Laughing like he owns the night. The room bends towards him like it usually does. Effortlessly, like he doesn’t even know what he does to people. Of course he does though. It’s in plastered in the way he smiles, slow and lazy, eyes half-lidded. Almost as if he’s bored of being adored, and yet still basking in it. He’s a flame, attracting all the moths.

And you hate it. God, you hate it. How he draws people in, how the crowd orbits around him like he’s the sun and everyone else is just lucky to catch a flicker of his light, fawning over his presence.

He doesn’t even try. That’s the worst part.

But still, your gaze sticks to him. You’re stuck in a current you didn’t see coming, not immune to his charming ways either. You try to tear your eyes away, pretend his presence doesn’t matter.

However, your eyes betray you.

You decide that looking for your friends and leaving the party would be the best, you pray they stuck around.

It’s nearly impossible to point them out in the crowd, so you wander around like a lost puppy.

As you make your way past the leather couches, turning in a smaller alley of the Slytherin common room, you catch a voice. It’s sharp, dismissive and familiar. Your friend’s name falling from their mouth.

“Satoru, you know I don’t want Margaret to clash with that ginger Ravenclaw girl she’s been talking to and you basically give her a free entry” Willoughby, Margaret’s older brother, speaks up which urges you to stop in your tracks, hiding behind the corner of the wall. You’re well aware this isn’t right, eavesdropping on them like that. Still, it concerns your friend and surely, she’d do the same thing. It doesn’t matter you’re mad at her right now.

“I invited L/N. She’s on the team, and I couldn’t specifically tell her to not bring her,” the sound of your last name sounds strange coming from Gojo’s lips, regardless of the fact you’ve heard him say it reasonable amount of times.

“Actually, you should’ve,” his friend states firmly, and it’s not the rather sweet boy who checked upon you and Arabella after the attack anymore. Was he thinking this way throughout the tournament as well?

Are they all doused with such a poison?

“Or you shouldn’t have invited her at all,” Robin joins in on the conversations as he was barely a sidekick to it till now. The entitlement lacing their voices boils your intoxicated blood.

“She’s on the team,” the white haired Slytherin tries to drags his point across one more time. You peak from the corner carefully.

“So what? She sympathises too much with the mudbloods in general, and never knows when to take her leave, or keep her mouth shut up,” Margaret’s brother spits out with venom. You retrieve your head back behind the corner, and as much as you’d like to say his words don’t mean a thing, you’d be lying. They shouldn’t, but they sting.

That cold, oily feeling slinks into your chest. You know you should step in and say something, demand they repeat it to your face. Instead, you stay hidden, listening, because this could tell you more than any confrontation.

“And she happens to tag along the girl your sister’s been dating, I get it. You’re annoyed, but stop lecturing me,” Satoru spills out mindlessly, cringing at himself as realisation pierces through the layer of the substance blurring his senses. Your breathing hitches.

No, this can’t be happening.

“The girl she’s been what?” Willoughby demands, pretending he didn’t hear right the first time only to hear the words one more time. For confirmation.

“Uh, what?” Gojo mumbles back, rambling over his own voice in an attempt to play it cool.

“Satoru, what the hell?” Robin states, fuming.

“You knew and didn’t tell me?” Willoughby comes at him again. Both of his friends now up against Gojo while he remains silent. You curiously poke your head from the corner one more time, the shadows that are provided by the surroundings keep you safe from being spotted.

One look at the white haired menace’s back and you can tell he’s conflicted.

“Why? For that girl you’ve been pestering since forever and her weird friends?” both of his friends keep on jumping him, the tension so thick it could be cut up with a knife. From your angle, the gesture of him tightening his fists doesn’t slip your attention. And just when you think he’s about to blow up, he replies calmly.

“I didn’t think it was that important,”

“Don’t lie to me,” he’s immediately cut off by Margaret’s brother, your body tenses and you can’t believe your own ears as a mixture of swirled emotions seizes you utterly.

“Seems like our boy Satoru here is defending her,” this time it’s Robin and he chooses words which seem to struck a nerve, making the attacked white haired wizard all that more defensive.

“The hell? Of course not, she’s a nobody,” he frowns, his tone the most obnoxious and arrogant you’ve heard in a while. The anger then fully devours you. You feel numb, no ache nor sadness. Only regret filling your dulled senses, you should’ve expected this kind of thing from him.

It’s nothing new after all.

“Then start acting like it, for Merlin’s sake,” you see his friend nudge his shoulder in a way that is meant to be a warning, a pleading to stop behaving the way he is.

“Put yourself together, we have a plan to follow,” you barely make out the words as they come in a hushed whisper, heart instantly dropping. A plan to follow. The declaration causes suspicion rise in your system, the same kind you’ve buried two weeks ago.

Could they have something to do with the Death eaters after all?

“Unbelievable,” one of them breaths out, soothing down the side of his face in frustration before he adds: “we’ll talk about this tomorrow, when we’re sober,”

They get a simple hum of agreement from Satoru, his functions too altered by the alcohol to form a better response.

When he finally thinks he’s off the hook, you step into the light.

“God, and here I was thinking you finally got over yourself and became somewhat tolerable,” your voice calls out from behind him, his body instantly turning to the source of sound. To you. Eyes depicting the depths of the ocean blink at you, widen with shock at seeing you. You maintain the eye contact, expression and body language merciless. Letting him know he’s screwed.

“You know damn well that option’s not on the list for me,” his voice is low and unbothered which takes you by a surprise, you hadn’t expected him to remain so cold about it. Perhaps you should’ve, however, part of you hoped he’d react differently to seeing you. You can’t tell why.

“Inviting me and my friends then degrading us in front yours is?” you rest your hands at your hips, offering him one more chance to account for his actions. You’re met with a shallow shrug of his shoulders, nearly making you gasp at his audacity.

“Guess so,” his face expression is hollow, impossible to read as he avoids portraying anything. His indifference makes you scoff sarcastically, you should’ve known this was nothing but a way to toy with you.

“Well, aren’t you simply the greatest thing to ever bloody exist?” your jaw clenches, voice embodying pure irony as your patience ran out long ago. You attack his sense of greatness, aware it’d hit some sorrow of a spot, at least.

“Don’t you dare to come to me again, Gojo,” you don’t bother to wait for his answer, if he’d manage to muster any. No, you’re already walking away by the time he takes in your words — rushing to collect your friends and leave the cursed area of the Slytherin common room.

A storm of conflict rages within you while you. Share the unfortunate news to Arabella or keep her blind?

If their relationship wasn’t done for before, it for sure must be now.

And as simply as that, you went three steps back in a matter of one single night.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈┈┈•• ✼

The next day started out as any other day would in late autumn, winter already knocking softly at the door. The illusion of a normal wintery day shattered barely an hour after you woke up with the headmaster knocking at your dorm room, demanding you pack your necessary utilities and hurry with him. Your initial thoughts circled around your illicit outings after curfew with the white haired Slytherin, the ones regarding the mysterious stag. Anxiety crippled within you as sat down in the headmaster’s office, thinking of the ways you could be punished. Robbed of the Head girl label, kicked out of the Ravenclaw’s Quidditch team, or even worse.

Expelled.

Those thoughts vanished as an opened letter was placed in front of you, your mother’s handwriting the first thing you noticed. With receiving it, your gut was already alerted. The familiar pressure in your lower stomach suggested something’s wrong.

The headmaster wasted no time in bringing you to your mother, leaving with warm words displaying sympathy. By then, couple of scenarios poked through your mind. One worse than the other. Unfortunately, simple look at your mother’s teary eyes and all of your worst nightmares were confirmed. The grip on your bag loosened, causing it to drop on the floor of your childhood home. A ringing silence echoed through the house.

You wasted no time in quickly walking up to your mother, hiding yourself in her shaky embrace. Her hand nestled at the back of your head, whispering soft and low words of apologies. You held her back, dull and robbed of everything as she continued to spill her heavy tears into your shoulder.

At first you felt like a monster for not mourning out loud. For not letting the world meet your wrenching sorrows. You wondered if the people surrounding the shut casket silently judged you for your dry cheeks, because everyone else appeared to be on the brim of collapse. You couldn’t bear to properly lift your gaze and meet the crushed expressions of your close family and their friends.

The first wave of grief landed as you entered your house after the feast, the day of the funeral. You put away your shoes along with your coat, hanging it next to your father’s. You brushed your fingers against the fabric of his coat, the fabric rough with years of usage. Your chest tightened while your entire being burned. Hands hesitantly inched forward, bringing the old piece of clothing towards your nose. As soon as you inhaled, familiar scent of cigarettes and mint battled within your mouth. Your throat tightened and hands began to tremble and with no defence, you gave into to the urge and buried your face into it, nuzzling the clothing. You used to hate your father’s smoking and how the disgusting scent would linger on clothes and in the house. Sensing it in that moment felt addicting, like a douse of a drug. You cursed yourself for all of the complaints you threw around instead of treasuring each passing moment. You broke down with the realisation of loss, slid down the wall in the hallway of your strangely quiet home and tightly hugged the coat. Meanwhile your mother stood in the kitchen, listening to your sobs, however, she pretended to not heart and gave you your own space to mourn.

Arabella regretted what she’s done, or rather how she behaved towards you. By the time she gathered the courage to apologise, you were long gone. Nonetheless, she didn’t know that. She was confused as she entered your shared dorm room, finding an empty space with a scribbled note neatly layed out on her bedsheets.

And you indeed weren’t back by dinner time. Your friend Arabella grew immensely worried and couldn’t sleep the entire night, wondering what’s happened to you or if you’re in trouble. Her head spiralled with countless possibilities, including the white haired wizard in almost every single one. She thought of contacting Margaret, not for her sake, but for yours. Part of her hoped she’d provide her with at least a piece of information. Yet, she backed from the idea as she recalled the party and your subtle hints at what angered you so much the previous night. You never got to tell her what precisely occurred as you were so quick to be called off.

Arabella somehow slept throughout the night and when she reached The Great hall for breakfast next morning, she no longer had to be gutted about your whereabouts. Each table representing one of the four houses swirled with the new edition of The Daily Prophet. The twins ambushed Arabella immediately, pushing the newspapers into her chest and demanding she reads instantly. Her eyes glided over the main title and her heart cracked.

The Head Auror of Magical Law Enforcement department resigning

The title by itself was a death blow. As Arabella’s eyes skimmed further in between the bylines, it became worse. The article depicted your mother’s reasoning behind the decision as unknown, meaning she’d no longer be the Head Auror next term which starts in the spring. The authors gathering information for the insufferable newspaper dared to speculate it could be the death of your mother’s husband leading to her resignation. Letting the majority of the wizarding world know of your tragedy.

Arabella tried reaching out by writing you letters as she usually did during your breaks.

It did no good, all of her twenty one letters remained unanswered.

You vanished for two entire weeks. Your arrival back to the school grounds was just as unexpected as your departure. Expect, all could point out the vast gap in your behaviour. You now haunted the corridors with your ghastly appearance, drained of your lively personality. Numbed by the memory of your past life, knowing you can never have it back. The events occurring before the fated morning, when you received the plea to come home straight from your mother through a letter, dissolved. They now seem silly compared to what’s plaguing you right now. Arabella’s ignorance, your ex boyfriend’s snarky approach, Gojo’s hurtful comments and his audacity of spilling a secret which wasn’t his to tell — none of it matters. And it seems like you were living a completely different life only a few weeks ago.

That sort of calm before the storm, you took everything for granted.

And during those two weeks you were at home, much managed to change. Your headmaster who’s been teaching at the school for three decades has been asked to leave his position due to his antigovernment opinions and conspiracies about plans to put a stop to the rise of the conservatives, the anonymous report came with enough evidence to justify itself. Earning the headmaster an immediate dismissal. They were rather quick with the replacement, so as you came back, there was already a new headmaster.

Along with yet another set of rules.

Still, the worst thing is that everyone knows of your father’s death, and you’re getting sick of each pitiful gaze which lands on you. Their mushy condolences targeting the raw wound, the void within your chest. At each subtle mention of your father, you want to come undone and hide away from the rest of the world to sob until there’s nothing left to come.

You walk around the place with swollen eyes and a weight in your chest, invisible to all of the others. Time did ease the rawness of it, but far too little of it passed to actually take off the burden keeping you at rock bottom.

You continue to mould over one simple thought — you never got to say a proper goodbye.

Despite your friend’s efforts, you still avoid and withdraw yourself from your favourite activities while insisting you’re fine on your own. Your friends don’t like that, of course. The three of them nearly never leaving you alone, always bringing you out for walks to see how winter slowly keeps swallowing autumn, and to Quidditch games. The season has officially started, even without you.

Right, life goes on regardless of you remaining stuck.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈┈┈•• ✼

The stadium is loud, cheering and chanting as you hover above in the air. Wind is howling past your ears, somehow it's the first time in weeks you’ve felt remotely alive. The sun above is cold as winter’s approaching, yet the sky is clear without any trace of clouds. You can almost forget the weight that’s been pressing down on you since it happened. Almost.

You hadn’t planned to be here. You'd told yourself you weren’t ready. But your friends were far too persistent, refusing to let you stay locked away in the common room.

It’s who you are, they said.

And now, here you are. Blue and bronze on your quidditch uniform, wind biting at your cheeks, and your heart finally racing for something other than grief. Seated safely on your broomstick, awaiting the start of the game. The pitch hums with anticipation as screams echo from the stands, scarves whipping in the wind. Your teammates remain still nearby, their voices are a blur of strategy and jokes. You only half listen, eyes slipping to the audience to point out your friends.

And there they are.

In the crowd, tucked between a group of giddy third-years and a professor trying very hard to pretend she isn’t amused. Your friends are laughing at something the other had said, eyes squinting in the bright evening light. The moment they notice you they begin to frantically wave at you with the kind of excitement that brings a soft smile upon your lips. Your attention slips away as you repeat the gesture.

A sight of artic hair tousling in the breeze like it has no sense of control making you take a double look into the crowd. You feel it like a jolt. Not the usual nerves before a match, but another feeling. He’s completely at ease. Eyes raking the field.

You turn back to your team, jaw set, trying to fully focus your attention on the game.

The match is fast the second its pronounced as started — Hufflepuff plays clean but relentless. You dive, swerve, breathe in the game like it’s the first breath you’ve taken in weeks. The tiny golden snitch casting a flicker of shine as you fiercely chase it. And for a minute, you believe your friends. You think maybe they were right. Maybe you're capable of doing this.

Then it happens.

You glance over your shoulder — just a second of distraction, and the hit comes from your blind spot. A shove, hard and ungraceful. It sends you flitting forward, losing control of the broom beneath you. Your stomach drops as fear consumes you, body being helplessly pulled down by gravity.

The fall isn’t long, the ground is cruel though. You hit it hard and your sense finally align, letting you know what’s happened. Pain spikes through you instantly like a sharp cut, breath knocked out of your lungs. You can’t bring yourself to move, scream nor react in any way. You barely sense the sheers faltering and whistles blowing. You’re on your back, blinking up at the sky that seemed so peaceful moments ago with your blurry eyed vision.

You bitterly think, maybe your friends were wrong in the end. And then your vision darkens, sending you off into an oblivious state.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈┈┈•• ✼

The next time they open, you wake to the soft creak of wood, and that sterile smell unique to the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. As you adjust your tired orbs, you assume it’s at least an hour or two before the curfew. The dim flickering fire of the candle rested beside the hospital bed is casting thin gold bares across sheets pulled over you.

Pain makes itself present first. A deep, dull ache along your side. The kind that itches when you try to shift even slightly.

Right. The match. The fall. Your father.

You remember the wind rushing past, the snap of impact, the world spinning out beneath you. And then —pitch black.

Madam Pomfrey appears before you can sit up properly, arms crossed, eyes sharp but not unkind.

“You're lucky,” she says, adjusting the potion bottle on your bedside table, even though you’d never consider yourself that “could’ve been broken ribs, but you landed just awkwardly enough to only bruise them. Not that I recommend making a habit of falling from broomsticks.”

“Noted,” you breathe out, the action sending sharp pain through your left side. Madam Pomfrey offers you a sympathetic smile, rubbing your shoulder. Meant as a comforting gesture to remind you you’re gonna be alright, and that it could’ve been far worse.

A voice drifts in from somewhere nearby when she leaves — soft, familiar. You glance to the side and realize someone’s been waiting for you to wake up. Your senses are still pretty disoriented.

Maybe it’s one of your teammates.

“Thought I’d see how you’re doing, the fall looked pretty bad,” he looks up as you stir, and something in his face shifts. For a fraction of the moment, you think you must be dreaming and part of you wants to hide away under the covers, hoping that the cunning Slytherin would leave. It’d cause a significant amount of pain so you abandon the thought.

You look thinner, he notes to himself as his blue lagoons rake over your displayed form.

“The others are worried about you,” Satoru mentions the other players as he scoots closer to the hospital bed. The room is only bathed in the light of the small candles, casting a rather intimate atmosphere as the rain drops drum against the stained glass of the window behind you.

It’s your first interaction since the party and somehow, it appears as if thousand years stretched in between. Still, it doesn’t make you entirely forgive him for his choice of words, regardless of the fact, you can’t awaken any hint of anger.

You’re back to your usual douse of numbness, plus the physical ache in your ribs.

“How do you feel?” he bribes casually, not caring for the the lack of response coming from your side.

“I’m alive,” you mumble out of pity as he stands beside the bed, looking unlike himself.

“And out of the game till spring,” Satoru attempts to chuckle playfully, wondering if he can get any trace of your banter out of you. You look up at him, eyes painted with exhaustion as you lifelessly lay in stiff bedding, dressed in the pure white gown which almost feels unnatural against your body.

“I’m done,” you say, moving your dulled body to the side and it makes you scrunch your nose due to the overbearing wave of ache. His expression laces with concern as he watches you hiss out in pain.

“What do you mean done?” the white haired Slytherin mumbles, brows furrowing in confusion as he takes in your simple words.

“I’m not playing anymore,” you announce as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And you suppose it is now, even though you wouldn’t be able to phantom anything such as this merely a month ago. You’re nearly scared of how little you care about it.

Silly how quickly can things escalate.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re gonna be brand new for spring season,” his words serve as an encouragement, something you never expected to receive from him. Nevertheless, it doesn’t change anything going on in your mind. You can’t find an ounce of will to carry on with the sport.

“I don’t wanna play anymore,” you voice out neutrally, barely audible while you move your gaze to the ceiling. Unwilling to continue with the conversation.

“You’re being dead serious?” he’s not quick enough to hide his genuine dismay which you miss out on due to your averted gaze. Major part of him took joy in playing the sport, because it was the only way where the two of you clashed. Not in an aggressive way. More like, where the two polar opposites could meet, doing what they have in common without any consequences.

Likely, the only thing they both love.

He can’t imagine not having you on the field ever again. And he’s enveloped in a sentimental longing for a period in the past. If he had known back then, he would’ve cherished the last time you were matched against one another.

If only he had known it was the last time.

His mouth hangs open lightly, the words bitting his tongue as they beg to be let out, but they’re swallowed back into the abstract of his mind — forever unspoken — as he takes in your defeated and unresponsive form.

“Right. It’s up to you anyway,” is what he croaks out, nodding his hand to convince himself to keep his mouth shut. And when you remain unmoving, he weakly sighs and navigates his steps towards the exit.

A powerful impulse causes his body to halt, half in and half out of the room.

Satoru glances at you, turning back.

“I’m-“ he starts off, lips stopping in movement as his eyes bore into your figure on the hospital bed, tucked beneath the white covers, and suddenly he can’t bring himself to say what he meant.

A second time in a row.

“Get better soon,” he breathes out instead.

credits for dividers: [@enchanthings-a @cafekitsune]

taglist: [ @k-kkiana @cuffiescariche @sylustoru @hyori2 @ethereal-moonlit @crankyarchives @jjklover365daysayear @cailliz @kaisenkalogathia @urthem00n @katsukiseyebrows @poopooindamouf @heiejdhdh @tessasweet ]

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chandralia · 11 months ago

Text

Toga saying she loves both boys and girls explicitly, that she loves differently, was ridiculed/abused for FOR loving differently, saying she wanted to be like people around her instead. Twice suggesting her villain name be Carmilla? (THE FIRST LESBIAN VAMPIRE)

Ochako calling herself strange for wanting to save Toga, reaching out and leveling, speaking in a way only Toga can understand, telling her she’s the cutest girl in the whole world, and offering to give Toga her blood for the rest of her life??

Deku saying “I’ve spent my life chasing after you,”“you’re my image of victory,” that he “can’t imagine a world in which kacchan doesn’t exist,” “kacchan and everyone else” over and over again, LOSING HIS MIND WHEN ONLY KATSUKI’S INJURED, being told to control his heart three times (COUNT THEM: THREE) over Katsuki?? Kudou having to use Katsuki to motivate Deku? “their feelings become one” just from locking eyes…???? Deku’s world shifting when Katsuki’s alive again, looking at him in awe (the way he’s only ever looked at him).

Katsuki risking his life for Deku repeatedly, thinking of only him before death, having to imagine Deku in danger to further his quirk, being targeted because he’s the closest to Deku (VERBALLY STATED BY SHIGAFO), avoiding medical care at every turn to get to Deku, always reminiscing about their past, A MISSED HANDHOLD, imagining their future together and breaking down crying in front of Deku at the possibility of that being ripped from him, saying he wanted them to keep doing this forever?

“that’s just how shonen is, everyone’s gay but no one’s canon” SHUT UP PLEASE. we quite literally do not know what Hori is or isn’t allowed to do. He’s been vocal about fighting for what he wants in his story, and even if it is an executive or editor saying “no you can’t do this” look what he’s managed to do so far.

not to mention THREE canon trans characters, toga correcting overhaul at misgendering. kendo saying “I just want to be me” when talking about gender, the entire side plot with discrimination and people fighting for acceptance, Hori reading and approving all the stuff that happens in the light novels/team up missions, AND thanking/praising those authors for knowing his characters so well.

His assistant (nstime23) openly shipping bkdk, drawing fanart of them, blatantly using their ship name, WHILE STILL BEING MUTUALS WITH HORI.

and the reception???

Hori does not live under a rock. It’s not an “oopsie he made it gay on accident” thing, and it’s not done maliciously either.

sharing what I’ve said before because I’m tired:

#I haven’t ranted like this in a while but YEAH #queer-coding is NOT queerbaiting.#a lot of these aren’t even coding they just ARE queer lol #bkdk #dkbk #bakudeku #dekubaku #:’)#ktdk #togachako

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 19 days ago

Note

Malleus said near the end of his backstory "is this how my life will be for what feels like eternity? All alone until the day I return to the stars?" Then Lilia to Malleus' said that not even fairies can survive fairytales, not even Malleus' magic can stop the passage of time. Could this be some kinda death flag or foreshadowing? Book 7 was a rough ride so there's so many things I'm wondering about 💀

Well 💦 I don’t think Twst will ever fully commit to killing a playable character in the main cast. It’s just not economical for a gacha game to do. You kill off a character permanently? That equates to no more screen time (or at least way less screen time + new content) for that dead character, which directly translates into less merch and less banner sales. NPCs (like some of the parents and generic background characters) are disposable because it does not impact revenue at the end of the day. Main cast members? They have plot armor.

Lilia was heavily foreshadowed to die in book 6 (the conversation with Malleus about seeing the stars aligning, the end-of-book char about the importance of bonds) + early book 7 (losing his magic, and wanting to retire, Silver talking about his dad dying in a foreign land), but Twst spontaneously brought him back with the power of love and wishing hard enough to conjure a miracle. (Ironically, many also worried that Malleus would die at the end of book 7, since there were “death flags” hovering around him, like us being told his UM could only be dispelled if he died or willingly removed it himself.) If any future main cast “deaths” occur, I’d imagine that they’d pull out a similar convenient explanation to revive them.

Things like the ending bit of Malleus’s post-OB flashback and Lilia saying not even fairies can survive fairy tales/not even Malleus’s magic can stop the passage of time, I don’t really see as foreshadowing a character death?? I interpret these lines as more of the narrative trying to drive home 1) Malleus’s livelong isolation and loneliness (which was the central theme of his flashback) and 2) how change is inevitable. It all feeds into the idea that Malleus, powerful as he is, cannot ignore his own troubles and continue living in a happy present with his magic. Unpleasant things will happen, fairies (long lived as they are) are not around for forever, because time doesn’t discriminate. Things can’t stay unchanging forever, and that’s what Malleus has to learn if he’s to mature.

Book 7 repeatedly uses fairy tales and fantasy as a parallel to the characters’ circumstances, and it’s not in a manner that suggests death, but change. For example, Malleus’s virtual pet Gao-Gao Draco-kun lives in a perpetual cycle, going from egg to fully grown dragon and then leaving behind an egg to start the cycle anew every month. Malleus laments having to see Gao-Gao go, and wishes that there was some way his lifespan were not finite. “It's a fairy-tale game, designed to comfort people. Perhaps there's no harm in indulging in its fantasy—one where people live on indefinitely, so long as you take care of them,” Lilia suggests. This draws an obvious parallel with Malleus, who would later go on to use his UM to force Sage’s Island into deceptive, happy dreams.

When Lilia later speaks of fairy tales again, it’s in reference to how quickly humans are making advancements. “No matter how hard we struggle, there's no stopping the advancement of [human] civilization.” He worried that far will be lost to time because of that. “Eventually, we fae will become relics of the past... We'll be forgotten and regarded as creatures from storybooks. But [Malleus] is going to be born and live on for an eternity. I don't want you to be relegated to the protagonist of a fairy tale.” (At this point, Malleus has not hatched. Lilia is expressing that he doesn’t want Malleus to die inside the eggshell and forgotten, only remembered in legends.)

Late in book 7, Idia seizes control of Malleus’s dream world(s) by constructing a fantasy of his own: a gacha game. The power has been shifted from Malleus to his classmates, who all seek to rebel against him. They once despaired at the impossible odds of fighting—and defeating—Malleus, but Idia’s cheat tool grants them power and hope.

So!! 💦 Yeah, I don’t think we have to worry about this?? But I understand why people might be feeling on edge after book 7’s release ending and how nail-biting it was building up to be (which doesn’t bode well for book 8, which may be even more dire).

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #question #notes from the writing raven #book 7 spoilers #Idia Shroud #Lilia Vanrouge #Malleus Draconia #book 6 spoilers

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reccyls · 3 days ago

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Victor's Main Route: Mad Love Chapter 25 + His POV Story

< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Epilogue >

If life were a fairy tale… After the loss of Liberator and the four executives, the fall of Nox Liberator would have been over in an instant.

Members of Nox Liberator, officially designated a terrorist organization, were detained at a rally early in the morning. All members were arrested, including those connected to the bombing incidents. They were detained at the Tower of London, awaiting trial. Furthermore, a large quantity of weapons and bombs were discovered hidden beneath their meeting locations. Their complicity in various crimes, ranging from extortion and nepotism to human trafficking, was uncovered one after another. The scope of the investigation was beyond Scotland Yard’s capabilities, and the case was abandoned. However, the nobles behind those acts had already been discovered and condemned by Crown. Furthermore, Ben Brown, known as Liberator, was discovered having died of suicide in his residence outside of London. After learning of his demise, members of Nox Liberator cried out in anguish, with some choosing to take their own lives as well. Without Liberator to lead them, the group collapsed entirely, and the curtain closed on the case of Nox Liberator.

(But that doesn’t extinguish their will.)

Victor, as well as the rest of Crown, knew that well. That was why the remaining members of Nox Liberator were being monitored very closely still.

(Currently, they seem too upset over Ben’s death to be able to think about anything else…)

But as sorrow morphed into fury, it could lead to further incidents in the future.

(Ben and the other executives were using the members of Nox Liberator to make their own desires come true.)

Although the executives worshipped Ben and generally agreed with his vision, They saw the commoner members of Nox Liberator as disposable, going as far as to harm and even kill them. Ben incited Nox Liberator to act because he was deluded that it would ‘free’ Victor, And thus allow Victor to guide and liberate him.

(Even though a republic means that the people have a say in the government, the common people weren’t a part of the ideals that Ben and the executives were working toward.)

There was a mastermind and nobles, and then the commoners and the poor. Although Nox Liberator claimed to want to establish a republic government for the people, The fact that there were such a stark divide between the group’s members made me think they were doomed to fail from the very beginning.

(But this is reality.)

Differences in thought caused by differences in station led to discrimination and inequality. Victor knew that, which was why he worked so hard to create a future where everyone, regardless of position, could be happy. My hands stopped moving, and I looked over my finished work while sighing. Victor’s report was finally ready.

…

A calm had settled over Crown’s castle after everything had come to a finish. Nothing should have been different than before, but the atmosphere felt lighter, somehow. As the sun began to sink, I made my way to where I needed to go: The office that I had so frequently visited over the course of this past month. I knocked on the door and entered, but Victor was nowhere to be found.

(Is he out on business?)

I placed my report on his desk, and couldn’t resist the urge to review it once more. The report was about everything I had experienced since meeting him. And the last few lines were the single conclusion I could come to, after having come to know him.

This report contains Crown’s most important secret. The person it is about probably doesn’t want any trace of this report to remain in this world. And so, I leave the matter of what is to be done with this report to the person in question. Even if this report is buried in the dark to be forgotten by the world, I will still remember. Because I love you.

(This is less like a report and more of a love letter…)

I wrote of how I started to know him, how I fell in love, how I realized that he had been protecting me for so long, how I wished for us to have a future together, and how I wished for his happiness above all else. To someone on the outside, this report which contained neither his name nor ability seemed to be one long love letter.

(But he still wouldn’t want this to exist.)

I knew how Victor was determined for his existence to die without leaving even the slightest trace in the annals of history. So that was why I left the decision of what to do with this report up to him. I picked up a piece of scrap paper and found a pen, intending to leave a note with the report. But I couldn’t bring myself to put down the note which said “Thank you for everything.”

(Even if he tells me to my face to leave, I don’t want to.) (I want to stay with Victor… but…)

The girl who dropped her glass slipper and was found by the prince was still a noble, even if she was covered in soot and ashes. So was the girl revived after eating a poison apple, or the girl who woke after a century of slumber. Unlike me, they were princesses. I agonized over whether or not to leave the note, when…

???: Vic, it’s me. Are you there?

The door swung open, revealing a familiar face.

William: What are you doing here, Kate?

I hurriedly hid the note behind my back, and William continued as if he hadn’t noticed.

William: Oh, right. This is the promised day, isn’t it?

His tone was serious.

William: You’ll stop working as Fairytale Keeper and return to your old life. Are you going to go along with that?

Kate: I…

I hesitated to answer. My heart knew what it wanted, but my brain knew that reality wasn’t so sweet.

Kate: If I get rejected because of the difference in our social status, I’d have to leave…

Unable to look William in the eye, my gaze dropped.

William: Who do you think would reject you?

Kate: …The people around him, or just people in general, I guess.

Giving me a glance as I mumbled, William sat down in a chair.

William: Have you met Victor yet?

Kate: No, not today…

He crossed his legs and a smile rose to his lips.

William: You should speak with him either way. William: You know better than anyone else where he’d be, don’t you?

I thought hard about the places Victor would usually be around this time, but my mind came up blank. Seeming amused, William continued speaking.

William: Kate, do you like fairytales?

Kate: I do. But why do you ask?

His question surprised me.

William: If life were a fairytale, what should you do to be happy?

Don’t do bad things. (+2/+4)

Believe in people.

Wait for a prince.

Kate: Don’t do bad things?

William: I’m sorry to say, but there are many people who are very happy to do all sorts of wicked deeds. William: If life were a fairytale, achieving happiness would be simple.

He raised his index finger in front of his lips and grinned.

William: Don’t do what you shouldn’t.

Kate: What I shouldn’t…?

William: Don’t enter the forbidden woods. William: Don’t open doors that should remain shut. William: Don’t discover secrets that should have stayed hidden. William: Don’t fall into a forbidden romance.

(Oh…)

I recalled the words Victor said to me the night I first arrived here.

Victor: If you wish to return to your old life after this month is over… you must not let them steal your heart.

Crown was made up of Cursed Ones, each fated to meet a tragic end. To fall in love with them would not lead to the blissful happily ever after that young maidens dreamed of.

(I was warned from the very first day, but he completely captured my heart.)

When I let out an ironic laugh, William put his hand down.

William: But that’s not necessarily a rule you must follow to achieve happiness.

Kate: Huh?

When I looked up at him, he laughed.

William: Because this isn’t a fairytale, Kate. This is the story of your life.

-----

After parting ways with William, I returned to my bedroom to find the suitcase I had been in the middle of packing missing.

Kate: Wha-!?

The clothes he had gifted me, my precious music box, that opal brooch. I had packed them all away in that suitcase, which had vanished into thin air.

(No way… where could it be…?)

I frantically looked around my room, searching for my belongings.

Kate: Ah…

Sitting on my desk was a note written in familiar handwriting.

Kate: “I’ve helped myself to your suitcase. If you want it back, you’ll need to find me!”

I burst out of my room after reading Victor’s message. But no matter how much I searched…

(I can’t find him anywhere!)

I ran all over Crown castle and the palace. I even returned to his office to look in his bedroom, and he wasn’t there either.

(He isn’t at any of his usual haunts. Is there anywhere else…?)

I wracked my brain for an idea, any idea at all. I had never expected that I’d be running around the palm of his hand on my very final day. Running through my memories, I checked off places he could be. Until at last, I realized there was one more place I hadn’t searched yet. I ran out of the castle to catch the first carriage I came across.

-----

I arrived at the ruined church. Careful not to step on any rubble, I made my way inside. However…

(He’s not here…)

All I saw was moonlight pouring in on the cracked altar at the church’s center.

(If he isn’t here, then I don’t know anymore.)

Holding back my tears as my shoulders shook, I took a step closer to the altar. The note I had been carrying all this time slipped from my fingers and drifted to the floor. But before I could pick it up, a hand reached out to take it.

Kate: Vic… tor…

After reading what it said, he turned his dark gaze to me.

Victor: Do you mean it?

I was overjoyed to find Victor and be able to see him again. But the inner conflict that I couldn’t put into words before swirled in my chest again. Tears filled my eyes again, for a different reason than earlier.

Kate: I don’t want to cause any more trouble to you than I already have.

That fear had always been lurking in my heart.

Kate: The longer I stay with you, the more I start wanting.

I wanted to be with him, I wanted him to love me, I wanted him to be happy. It was so easy to let my emotions get the better of me.

Kate: But most of all, I just want you to be happy.

I could no longer hold back my tears. Against my wishes, they rolled down my cheeks.

Kate: I love you, I love you so much I don’t have enough words to tell you how much. Kate: But that’s exactly why I can’t be by your side. I have nothing I can offer you.

Through my unending tears, Victor smiled sadly.

Victor: Those aren’t the words of the person who had given me the one thing I could hold onto, even after I had given up everything else.

He whispered softly as his thumb gently wiped away my tears. And then–

Victor: I just canceled the lease on your apartment today.

Kate: Huh?

Victor: I have a resignation letter for your position at the post office too. Both of them only need your signature to be finalized.

Kate: What?

Victor: Your suitcase is in my room. I plan to bring over the rest of your things too, once you agree.

Kate: Umm…

I was so confused by what was happening I forgot I was supposed to be crying. His hand moved from my cheek to my neck and collar, stroking gently.

Victor: My fated end is to “bring destruction to those I love.” Victor: If you choose to live with me, there is no other end that awaits you other than ruin. Victor: But, if, even despite that, you choose to meet that destiny with me… Victor: The darkness will gladly welcome you.

Victor: But if you choose to meet that destiny with them… Victor: The darkness will gladly welcome you.

Realizing that it was the same thing he said to me a month ago, my lip began to tremble.

(Why did I never realize until now?)

Victor had always been waiting for my choice.

(So now-)

His hand was still resting gently against my neck. I clasped my own hands around his. I was choosing my destiny of my own free will.

Kate: Even if destruction is all that awaits me, if it’s with you, I could think of no finer heaven.

Affection filled his gaze as he smiled, pulling loose the ribbon of my blouse.

Kate: Whoa!

He pushed me down onto the altar, laying on top of me.

Victor: I can no longer let you go. Victor: I love you, Kate.

Instead of replying to my beloved, I wrapped my arms around his neck.

(If life were a fairytale…)

William’s words echoed in my mind.

(But he was right. This isn’t a fairytale.) (This is the story of the life that I choose.)

Victor: Don’t think about anything else.

Kate: Ah…

He had a wicked smile on his face as I told him what William had said to me earlier today.

Victor: In that case, this is how our story goes.

With his hand gently cradling my head, he began to speak.

Victor: Once upon a time, the grim reaper was saved by the words of a young girl, and resolved to bear his duty to his last breath. Victor: But after encountering that girl again and saving her life, he realized that there was something he could not give up, and began to watch over her from the shadows. Victor: And on their third meeting, the reaper finally came to take her.

He smiled.

Victor: He wished, with all his heart, that this was destiny.

Smiling back at him, I continued our tale.

Kate: The girl gladly took the reaper’s hand, and began to walk a path of destruction with him. Kate: Until death itself came to part them, they would remain together, unchanging.

His soft, smiling lips descended, and I let my eyes slide shut.

Victor: For as long as I love you, I wish the end will never come. Victor: All I wish for… is an eternity with you.

And so I shared a kiss with the reaper.

This was the story that had already been written since the day we first met. A story known as destiny.

His POV Story: A Vow with Destiny

If life were a fairy tale, it would be easy to achieve happiness. All we had to do was make up our minds. I looked at the suitcase and documents that I had gathered in my room, and smiled. It was Kate’s promised day, and I had chosen not to let her leave.

(Well, if she says she wants to go back to her old life, then I’ll have to accept it.)

I remembered how she cried last night.

Kate: I love you, Victor. Kate: I have always loved you, and only you.

I had been awake then, and remembered how hard she had clung onto me. That was when I made my choice.

(I will never let you go.)

Although I had originally pushed her away for the sake of her happiness, her feelings changed everything. Her body, and her heart. I would take it all. What I had chosen to do last night was how I wanted to make that clear.

Victor: But I don’t think she got the message…

My shoulders slumped. But as I thought back on my actions up to that point, I realized something. I had never, not even once, told her I loved her. Last night would have been the perfect time. But I had been so nervous and giddy to spend the night with her that I had let myself get carried away. The night passed and morning came, and by the time I had woken up, Kate had already left. The only thing left in my room was my shame.

(And I call myself an adult…) (It’s all because you’re too adorable, you know…)

In order to turn things around, I spent the entire day avoiding my work and putting together a plan to get rid of any obstacles between us. I had obtained a resignation letter for the post office for Kate, as well as a document to terminate the lease for her apartment. And I arranged things so that both her employment and her lease could be immediately ended once she signed both agreements. Then I broke into Kate’s room, stole her half-packed suitcase, and left a note for her. Once I received her permission, I planned to move the rest of her things into my room.

(This is probably a bit extreme, but it’s the best way to show her I’m serious.)

Words were not enough to respond to the love she had shown me over the past weeks. So I decided to take action, instead.

(Speaking of which, where is Kate now?)

I could have put together as many plans as I wanted, but nothing could begin without the lady of the hour. So I left my room and made my way to my office. And there, sitting in a chair, was William. Although he didn’t know of the existence of this secret passage, he didn’t seem particularly surprised.

(I shouldn’t have expected anything else from William…)

William: If you’re looking for Kate, she just left.

He laughed lightly and stood up as he read the expression on my face. Then he pointed to my desk.

William: She left a report for you. She was afraid you’d kick her out, you know.

Victor: I’d never…

As I picked up the report, he continued to speak with an amused grin.

William: Hey, Vic. If life were a fairytale, what should you do to be happy?

I didn’t even have to think.

Victor: It’s simple. Just make a choice, and see it through. Victor: Even if it leads to you being hurt, or hurting others, you must be ready to face your fate.

Perhaps my answer pleased him. He turned around.

William: You had better go find her, quickly.

And with one last laugh, he left the office. Alone in my office, I began reading the report Kate had left. As I read through page after page, I relived the memories of the month we spent together. It was more like a love letter than it was a report.

Victor: …I am loved, aren’t I.

(But unfortunately, I couldn’t let this love letter-report continue to exist.)

The risk of the queen’s secret being revealed was too great. And I did not wish for any record of my existence to remain in history.

Victor: …Just like how you said you won’t forget me, I will remember this too.

After committing the report to memory, I threw it into the fireplace.

Victor: I will remember every single word.

Memories lived on forever within the heart.

-----

After running here and there in a frantic whirlwind, Kate left the castle and took a carriage. I heard about her actions from the head butler, so I went after her, guessing that she was headed to the church of our memories.

(There she is.)

Just as I was about to call out to her as she approached the altar, A small note slipped out of her hand. I quickly picked it up before she was able to, and she lifted her tearful face to meet my gaze.

Kate: Vic… tor…

After reading what it said, shame at my own foolishness flooded through me.

Victor: Do you mean it?

Kate: I don’t want to cause any more trouble to you than I already have.

(When have you ever caused me trouble?)

I was about to tell her exactly that, but she cut me off.

Kate: The longer I stay with you, the more I start wanting. Kate: But most of all, I just want you to be happy.

A tear slid down her cheek.

Kate: I love you, I love you so much I don’t have enough words to tell you how much.

Those words came so easily to Kate.

Kate: But that’s exactly why I can’t be by your side. I have nothing I can offer you.

(You’ve given me so much, and yet…)

I brought my hand to her face so I could wipe her tears away with my thumb.

Victor: Those aren’t the words of the person who had given me the one thing I could hold onto, even after I had given up everything else.

(If I don’t tell her now, when?)

Victor: I just canceled the lease on your apartment today.

Kate: Huh?

Victor: I have a resignation letter for your position at the post office too. Both of them only need your signature to be finalized.

Kate: What?

Victor: Your suitcase is in my room. I plan to bring over the rest of your things too, once you agree.

Kate: Umm…

I let my hand drop from her cheek to her neck, running my fingers across her skin. It was time to tell her something important.

(I have been waiting for you to choose me since the very first day.)

She put her hands around mine.

Kate: Even if destruction is all that awaits me, if it’s with you, I could think of no finer heaven.

Her words filled my heart with warmth, and I tugged at the ribbon around her neck.

Kate: Whoa!

I pushed her onto the altar.

Victor: I can no longer let you go. Victor: I love you, Kate.

Instead of a reply, Kate wrapped her arms around my neck.

Victor: Don’t think about anything else.

Kate: Ah…

I could tell her mind was on something else. She told me about a conversation she had with William.

Victor: In that case, this is how our story goes.

I cradled her head, reflecting on the story of our lives.

Kate smiled and continued our tale.

Kate: The girl gladly took the reaper’s hand, and began to walk a path of destruction with him. Kate: Until death itself came to part them, they would remain together, unchanging.

I slowly lowered my lips to her smile.

Victor: For as long as I love you, I wish the end will never come. Victor: All I wish for… is an eternity with you.

My “destiny” smiled, and then she laughed joyfully.

#ikemen villains #my translation #victor (ikevil)

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dumbgoondog · 1 month ago

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Take Out Take Down(part 2)

Cw/Tw - non specific discrimination, Violence, blood, vomit + piss(Sukuna), gore(Sukuna and Mahito), and death

Ft. Sukuna, Mahito, Choso, and Kenjaku

GN!Reader, Short fic style, dating for about 5-6 months, reader isn’t helpless/it’s not specified, the first few paragraphs are the build up and context for everything else.

What was supposed to be a quick pick up was now an awful argument between you and whoever this guy was. You’d ordered food for pick up, coming from after some shopping with your man, he was waiting out front but here you were. The bag of getting cold food, blocked, by this Neanderthal of a man.

Why you might ask, why the hell was he blocking you? Because there’s no way this was your order, that’s clearly not your name either, and that’s too much food for someone like you. Was he fat shaming, assuming you’re poor, all of the above?

Then this guy has the audacity to after making his points continuously interrupt you every time you tried to say anything. “That’s my boyfriend’s na-“ and he starts talking about how this place doesn’t even have good food that it’s just full of posers who can’t appreciate real Japanese food. It takes everything in you to not laugh at that, because what the absolute fuck is he going on about?

So instead while he’s busy, yappin, you lean to reach around him for the bag. Besides your lover was probably getting curious what was taking so long and might come in! Rather than wanting a big fiasco in public you just grab it and are about to turn to go when.

SMACK.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

Sukuna sat on the bench outside his left eyes staring up at the vast blue sky the sun headed to set beneath the horizon. The eyes on the right as they tend to do, are slowly dragging across everything to keep watch but also somewhat absentmindedly. He’s massive, around 8ft tall, with four arms, and despite this he’s still coming out into public causing slight terror. Some people still aren’t sure about giving him a second chance after everything. Fair, but also, fuck them you just want to go on dates with your boyfriend!

But of course he has to show you wrong, because he’s not going to change who he is for the people who hated him most. You knew as soon as you felt that sharp sting that this man would die. The little bell above the door now his death toll. Sukuna has a hand supporting himself as he ducks under the frame grabbing its trim. One of his eyes spotting you and he snickers, “Oh damn, you got your shit knocked huh? Well go on, knock his shit in.”

You blink pulling yourself up from the ground somewhat hurt he’s not even defending you and almost mocking you. Your lip HURTS, and your nose is dripping everywhere, sure you could do something but you’re embarrassed, hungry, in pain, and somewhat upset with Sukuna. Instead you cross your arms keeping your head down and try to push past Sukuna to leave.

His massive hand blocks you, then pulls you to him his face staring down at you confused and mildly irritated, “don’t be pouty with me, what? Why aren’t you trying?” The cogs in his mind are turning and turning fast but emotions aren’t Sukuna’s strong suit so you huff into his chest, “I’m in pain, hungry, and our food is on the floor. I-… I just want to go home.”

His lower hand reaches up to itch at his ear as he watches you, and finally something clicks in his head. Seeing you vulnerable against his chest, knowing that you’re in pain and seeking him for comfort. He gives a sigh, moving the hand to hold the top of your head and smiles, eyes snapping to the guy as he speaks to you, “Just text Uraume, they’ll make us something by the time we’re back.”

On the other hand, the man who stood still before your spilled food, was frozen with horror, and he could hear the crows cawing. Sukuna turns you slightly and points with a questioning hum and against better judgement you nod. The man turns like he has a chance to run from his fate, but he slips off of his ankles cracking against the counter.

It takes a second, turning slowly and sitting up to look where his feet sat disconnected cleanly from his body, the fat, the muscles, and bone staring at him like eyes, tears of blood weeping for him. He turns and pukes choking on any screams of pain, color leaving his face and you’re sure he’s going to faint as he tries to support himself on his hands. Much like before he starts to slip, to his horror, his hands limp and no longer supporting the rest of his arms.

He slips, falling with a splat into his vomit and blood, the wet in his pants adds piss to the mix.

“God that’s disgusting, laying in your own piss and vomit! Bwahahah! It’s almost as pathetic as you trying to run, punk,” Sukuna wheeze his stomach mouth even gives a low chuckle against you. The gruesome scene only continues to unfold however, as Sukuna lets him try to have hope again and again only to sever the hope he had. Held up by his forearms, only for them to be cut at the elbow, trying to scoot, severed at the knee.

Now you’re trying to not puke, giving a hit to Sukuna’s chest you bury your face trying to hide from it all. He’s laughing enjoying himself not picking up that you want to leave, that you don’t like this. The spatters of wet slop against the tiles and the smacks of limbs cutting and falling to the floor has you dry heaving.

“Sukuna- please-“

“Please don’t kill me! I’m sorry! I’m sorry please!” The shouts and prayers of choir fall deaf on their god’s ears. You now are shoving and trying to push past, to no avail, the horrors behind you continuing, Sukuna just barely keeping the poor man alive probably with RCT output. You can’t take it any longer so you punch his stomach mouth finally getting him to snap up with a growl of pain only to see you fighting him.

He’s confused, this is what you wanted… right? Maybe this is but not this, so now he’s annoyed with himself, and a quick flick of his wrist ends it. He groans ducking out the door and you nearly fall as the mountain finally moved.

He scoops you up into his arms holding you to him with just one arm beneath you, your legs around him. He starts to walk not looking at you, but you hold yourself to him listening to his heart. He sighs… moving a hand to your back to listen to yours as he walks you both home.

MAHITO

Mahito would have just come in with you, it’s not like any of them can see him, but he got distracted by two fly heads having an argument and he wanted the drama. It’s not often fly heads squabble with each other or even are smart enough to try and argue over anything! Plus he loves how dumb the noises are!

He giggles and laughs watching but he feels a slight shift in the air, a tension, negative emotions building. Being a curse, it makes him sensitive to these things, especially if they’re close enough! He stands with a biiiiig stretch and skips to the door pushing it open, “Hellooooo~ what happened in here hmm?” Then his eyes fall to you. Fallen to the floor. Your blood falling to your lap.

He sees the guys shaking his hand at the wrist giving a huff and Mahito skips over continuing to smile. You look up to Mahito and the guy thinks you’re looking at him. The man crosses his arms looking very offended down at you, “you tried to attack me! I someone needs to put you in your place, you bitch. Luckily I’m great at self defense and have learned a lot of good moves from Naruto.”

Mahito stands leaning in his face head tilting with a little pleaser giggle. You on the other hand aren’t sure if you should say anything, Mahito’s going to kill him now or later when you aren’t watching… maybe later would be better? Too late!

Mahito’s hand rests gently on his shoulder and the guy winces in pain, trying to lean off of one of his feet, trying to play it off- CRK. His ankle buckles, foot now parallel to the side of his leg, white and red splintering out, squirting. He screams and your eyes widen in horror as he tries to grab onto the counter to catch and support himself only for another sicking crunch.

Mahito moves to you rubbing against you like a cat looking for praise and attention, “Look all better now! Where’s the food?” You’re blinking and point to the food on the floor his gaze following ignoring the man who’s bones split from his ankles, and break at every chance they can. His fingers are busted from the counter bent and limp, falling to his ass there’s an awful noise but you see nothing, until he falls to his back. He coughs up blood as his head cracks to the floor, and foam starts to form as he begins to seize.

“Hmm, humans don’t like food off the floor… even if it’s so fun. One second bunny! I’ll go get you something from the back!” He’s up and hopping over the counter to rummage through the back. Leaving you with the body that’s bleeding, cracking, twitching, and slowly going still. You shut your eyes tight and shakily stand moving for the door avoiding stepping in anything or on him.

Mahito hops back over with armfuls of containers and he’s giggling. He seems so pleased, so proud of the horrors behind him or maybe he’s proud that he’s getting the food for you? Either way you both start hurrying out and Mahito laughs as you do!

CHOSO KAMO

Just a quick pop in and out, then you two would head back to your place to watch a movie! Choso was waiting like you said, you said it’d just be a second and that’s it. Now here he is though, standing and waiting, it’s been 10 minutes though…

He turns and pushes the door open looking around and then seeing you on the floor with the food spilled out. He looks up, seeing the guy who glances at him too. Choso’s face darkens, blood dripping from the hatch on his nose.

“Did you do this?” Choso asks voice a low calm growl. He moves to your side lifting you up and checking over your lip with such a worried gaze before he looks back to the man. Choso’s blood spits out at him and he jumps as it collides with him.

“What the hell?! That’s disgusting how are you doing that you freak?!” The man seethes grabbing his shirt to pull away from himself cringing in disgust before he wobbles some, the toxins starting to kick in, “hng- what… what the fuck did you do to me..?!”

Choso doesn’t respond, his gaze cold and dead as he flares the man down before pulling you to his side. Trying to be polite, he scoops up the food that hasn’t fallen everywhere and on the floor. He gives a small smile before glancing back over his shoulder in disgust, spitting, “it won’t kill you, unless you’re an idiot.”

The man shouts after but he’s too weak and out of breath already to chase after. Choso just has his arm around your waist as he opens the door and holds it for you. You shake your head and leave with him following happily.

KENJAKU

Normally, they like spoiling you and doing near about everything for you so it’s a rare occasion you went in by yourself to get the food. Honestly after what Kenjaku is about to see he’s probably not going to let you get it alone ever again! He will always be right there by your side to get it or just getting it himself while you comfortably wait in the car.

As they walk in and look to find you only for you to be on the floor and some cretin standing there feigning some offense? They smile and shake their head, gravity shoving him down forcibly as gravity for you lightens and you lift up some. A sweet hand takes yours like royalty and Kenjaku smiles to you warmly, “hello my dearest, apologies this happened, why don’t we go back to mine and I’ll cook for us hmm? The others miss you as well so they’d love to say hello.”

He pulls you to him your foot stepping on and pushing off the man who hit you. Once pulled into Kenjaku’s arms they kiss your cheek and turn to leave. You feel the cold chill and glance back in time to see the curse, the hairy floating curse with muscular arms and ribs holding an orb. The smallpox hag, who Kenjaku likes to lie about and say it’s the smallpox deity.

It’s there and then it’s gone after a movements of its hand and you can only guess the man on the floor has contracted the plague… oh boy. It’s about to be a very rough few weeks for him and the hospitals nearby. Turning away you look to Kenjaku and give a small smile, “thank you, and yeah, maybe we can play board games?”

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mywitchyblog · 7 months ago

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I love the dedication for explaining the most basic stuff for some of these shifters because some of them lacks common knowledge everyone is so attach with the past they always talks about you can't do this because this and that it happened to me happened to them acting like our cr is the only one who has a past in every reality there's a different race who experienced discrimination like all the stuffs that people reason on why people shouldn't race change but they forgot that in every reality every race, age, gender has a different past some realities gender is equal no one fights about whose gender are more important. In another reality it's the opposite of race who experienced discrimination. People like to create discourse because they are so attach with the cr all they talk about is cr. these people won't shift with this mindset it's very limiting they always let the past affects their journey they are the same people who affirm about not being in the past and that they don't live in the old story but still continue to get mad when someone want to change their form in order to experience infinite possiblities. What shifters need to learn is that if they always talk about being in the 4d and that they live in the imagination they should start observing 3d and view their cr life as someone's old story a character who will end their roles to start a new and better one never let the past affects you. Focus on your own journey your own story NEVER LET PEOPLE'S OPINION ON TUMBLR AFFECTS YOU block them and move on don't interact live your life you wanted it to be stop being miserable stop complaining stop starting a discourse but instead educate yourself read a book find a hobby that helps with your shifting journey stop complaining about peopel having different opinion as you those are just people on the screen on your phone don't let their energy touches you and ruin your day. YOU WON'T GET ANYTHING FROM ARGUING PEOPLE WITH DIFFERENT VIEWS OF YOU FROM TUMBLR. ALWAYS LIVE IN THE PRESENT DONT FORGET ABOUT THE PAST ONLY OBSERVE IT. If you're aware that you are a consciousness nothing can hurt you only your cr self gets hurt but you are a consciousness you're just observing your cr self just like your dr self your cr self get hurt because it has a senses, feelings and emotions it has a story a past but you already live now in your dr. In death only the body dies. Life does not, consciousness does not,reality does not as someone who died multiple times in every reality you're CR life is never that serious the Cr character dies we moved on and live for the next adventure we were never born never dies we just exist as consciousness moving to different forms bodies appearancess. The real power is not the method it's the awareness knowing that I'm Aware that every method works for me or im aware that i can go to my desired life just by living in the imagination and not relying on my limited senses.

Thanks for the compliment! It’s wild how many people need the basics explained over and over because they’re so stuck in this reality (CR) like it’s the only one with a history. They think if something happened here, it must be the same everywhere. Spoiler alert: different realities have different histories, and just because one group faced discrimination here doesn’t mean it’s the same in every reality. In some realities, gender might be totally equal, and in others, it’s flipped, with totally different groups facing discrimination. Reality’s a mixed bag, babe, but some people just can’t handle that.

What really grinds my gears is the fake moral superiority they try to flex just because they don’t race change or age down, as if they’re not out there aging up whenever they feel like it. Babe, this reality isn’t some golden blueprint—there’s no “original reality” that’s the end-all, be-all. That idea? Complete illusion.

And when they try to argue? It’s always the same old trio of logical fallacies: ad hominem attacks, straw man nonsense, and hasty generalizations. I’m just waiting for a solid argument against age or race changing that doesn’t rely on flimsy fallacies. Surprise, surprise—they can’t. There’s no ultimate right or wrong here—no supreme law governing what’s okay across all realities. It’s laughable, really.

People clinging to CR norms like their lives depend on it are either going to struggle to shift or not shift at all. Shifting is as simple as plugging into a different outlet—your awareness is the plug, and each reality is a different socket. Unplug from one, connect to another. Meanwhile, I’m basing my views on logical observations, and they’re acting like their opinions are rock-solid, when really, they’re about as stable as quicksand.

And it’s funny how people forget the total subjectivity of shifting before they jump on their soapbox. It’s always “um, excuse me, but you’re doing it wrong because I said so” (cue fallacies or their utter lack of shifting knowledge). Arguing with keyboard warriors? Beyond pointless. Block, move on, and don’t waste a second on that nonsense. I’m here for real debates, not this mess.

They’re obsessed with CR and all its baggage but claim they’re “moving on” or “not living in the old story.” Yet the second someone ages down or changes race, they lose their minds. Shifting is all about infinite possibilities, but they’re too busy being mad over CR norms to see it. It’s beyond limiting, and if they keep letting CR baggage control them, they’re going to miss out on everything shifting has to offer.

If they’re so into talking about the 4D and living in their imagination, they should start seeing CR as just an old story that they can move beyond. They need to stop letting random opinions on Tumblr—or anywhere—control them. Block, focus on your journey, and stop wasting energy on what others think. All this complaining? It’s useless. Shifters who are busy policing others are missing what really matters—their own dreams and their own lives. Educate yourself, pick up a book, find something meaningful for your shifting journey, and stop letting some random on the internet ruin your day.

At the end of the day, live in the present. Observe the past, but don’t let it control you. If you’re aware of yourself as consciousness, nothing can truly hurt you—not people, not opinions, not CR drama. Your CR self might feel the sting, but you? You’re a consciousness, moving beyond bodies and histories. Life, consciousness, and reality never end. When you shift, your CR self wraps up one story and moves on to the next adventure.

In the end, it’s not about any one method being the answer. It’s about awareness and knowing every method has potential. I can live in my Desired Reality just by embracing my imagination and moving past limited senses. Thanks for recognizing that—here’s hoping more people catch on soon. It’s time to stop treating CR like it’s the center of the universe and start seeing the limitless possibilities of shifting.

#desired reality #shifting community #shifters #shifting realities #shifting #shiftblr #reality shifter #reality shifting #reality shift #shifting antis dni #shifting blog #reality shifting community #shifting motivation #shift #shifter #shifting reality

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jamiethebee · 11 months ago

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(In which I spiral down a rabbit hole with Midoriya that has little to do with @codenamesazanka 's original post that started this (x). FYI I sorta separated Deku/Izuku to indicate Deku as the hero and Izuku as the person outside of heroics.)

I started thinking about this post again (see the link above) and how Deku doesn’t really understand that non-perfect or sanitized victims exist AND still need to be saved and not by destruction. (The "maybe killing someone does save them" thing is a great way to assuage guilt but it's a stupid copout.) Deku (hero) and more importantly Izuku (person) doesn’t really understand that though because he WAS a “perfect” victim. Midoriya stayed quiet and inconspicuous and didn’t make a fuss about the bullying or discrimination he faced, he just kept his head down and hoped that something would change without any real effort on his part. And if he had died as a result from the bullying he would’ve been hailed as an unfortunate victim (of who? or what? Don’t worry - isn’t his death so tragic? oh well now on to our next news story -), so any critique of society and the individuals who reinforce the status quo don’t actually have to do anything. I know there’s more nuance here and lot of cultural things happening with this all but I’m not gonna dig into that right now.

Moving on! Quite frankly the boy didn’t live long enough to get out of his childish mindset and get some “righteous" anger at the wrongdoings and failings of society. All Might came along when he was still starry eyed and hopeful to lift Midoriya out of the trajectory of his life and Izuku never had any time to get to the point where he comes to terms with the hurt caused society’s rejection of his self and get angry about it. As such, he can’t understand the league. It probably doesn’t even occur to him that he's missing that understanding because for him it worked out - he got the attention and support to be able to escape the circumstances of his birth/quirklessness and to leave the box (deku) that society shoved him in. Twice and Toga never had that support �� they both lived how they needed to in order to survive in a world not meant for them until they broke down. (Maybe that's why Vigilante Deku AUs were so popular back in the day - they speedran Midoriya past the hopeful kid stage and to a point where a lot of the fanbase was in their own lives - seeing the issues in the world and wanting to affect change.)

Izuku, for all that he claims to want to connect to the villains, hasn’t given enough thought or empathy to understand how continuing to live a life where you don’t fit in with society can be deeply hurtful as well as the emotional repercussions of having unchangeable parts about yourself be reviled. This isn’t to say Izuku had it easy - of course Izuku went through hardships but.... there’s a big difference between living through stuff as a kid and finding a way out of it vs living through that, growing up, maturing, and in turn looking critically at society. But I can’t bring myself to fault Midoriya for those exact reasons because he's just a kid. He doesn’t have the perspective to see outside of himself – at least not for the villains. Because that seems to be too far of a stretch for him? But Todoroki was close enough to Izuku’s mindset for him to help back in the sports festival arc. I also acknowledge that he's a teenager and IS capable of critical thinking, but from what we've seen, his schools have never actually made the students examine the world they live in - which is a different skill from quirk analysis or historical or literary analysis or the various writing exercises that students go through.

(Believe me – you can have the brightest kid but, most of the time, unless you point out the shortcomings of their mindsets, it won’t occur to them to look further. (Not necessarily assuming that they’re wrong, but rather that their consideration of life is not as expansive as it should be. Especially for a kid wanting to be the greatest hero and save everyone.) For example: many abled bodied people don’t realize how inaccessible places can be until someone brings it up to them or they find themselves in that situation (like a temporary crutch or wheelchair). It’s through no fault of the able bodied person that they weren’t aware enough to consider it in the first place, but what they do once they realize physical accessibility is an issue, is on them.) Back to the point – hero society never calls attention to it’s own shortcomings despite the proof quite obviously existing and the people within society don’t seem to spare much thought either. The adults who have seen more of these instances are then of course more culpable in this than the kids who haven't.

So, Midoriya was also failed by society (cough all might cough) as well, but he chose the hero path - to save people. We see him starting to consider the deeper issues in his talk with Uraraka, and the few times he “tries” to talk to various villains shows that he is aware enough of underlying issues - which makes it his duty as a hero to do something about it. In that way, he is at fault. He chose a profession to devote his life to that should require this of him. And through his hero work, Midoriya has seen the problems in society and yet he’s chosen to turn away from them (and by problems/them I’m referring to the villains “too far gone to save” and the issues they represent).

(Sorry Midoriya, but considering we’re nearing the end and you haven’t shown any growth in this area….. I am faulting you for metaphorically pushing your head in the sand. I do want to be wrong though. I really want the kid to prove me wrong.)

And he’s able to turn away from them guilt free, in part, because he’s gotten the proverbial thumbs up by his classmates that it’s ok and that they’ll just be better and be model minority heroes and that will fix the problem! Because they’re positive representation! Or something? If you can put your mind to it that will fix things! Just try harder! Again, very idealistic but they are kids, so it comes with the territory. (Horikoshi didn’t have to make them unquestionably right in that approach though. Toga and Uraraka coming together for the win! The Shoji and Spinner match up not so much.)

Overall, there’s something about how Deku still fit into society's boxes in an acceptable way and never truly faced what existing outside of "acceptability" was like. Don’t get me wrong it’s tough to live in the mha world as a quirkless person and of course it has its problems and restrictions, but that’s still a box that society provides for, even if the society in question doesn’t like it.

And I'm not saying that Izuku had to live through a terrible life to understand the villains! Just that, he has the capacity to look outside himself and be empathetic, but the application of it is lacking, despite knowing there’s problems, despite having LIVED with some of those problems. Extrapolate, boy!!!! You don't need empathy to reach out to others but the whole compassionate/kind Midoriya thing has been touted since the beginning! So I want to see it!

(Not sure how much sense this will make to people, but there’s a maturity that comes about with either time or certain circumstances that can be hard to grasp unless you’ve lived through it. And quite frankly, Midoriya hasn’t. He went from a perfect/acceptable victim to the top tier of society (heroes).)

(Basically: Midoriya never **matured in the restrictive environment he grew up in and can't emotionally connect with the league who did, because of that. Instead he seems to have internalized the "if they were better" or "if they were truly good" then there wouldn't be a problem because just look at his classmater!, so villains being villains is their own fault and no one else is culpable.)

**centers on the idea that someone starts off as hopeful in regards to their discriminated position in life and over time matures to understand how society supports that discrimination and come to terms with the hurt that it's caused them personally (and in this case to fight back against it)

also, if you made it this far, i'm just having a fun time reading codenamesazanka's posts about the latest chapters

#my hero academia #bnha #the bee talks #i promise i have nothing against midoriya! but there's a lot of build up with him that's gone nowhere currently....#having thoughts! having so many thoughts!#honestly i just feel bad for horikoshi. from what i gather he didn't want mha to drag on this long or it took a different direction #and he's been working on it for so many years. i don't fault him! it's his story! but i can still have a fun time analyzing it #ok i've stared at this for too long. i'm posting it and heading out #mmm is midoriya letting his own life experiences cloud his judgement of the villains? perhaps!#i would love to sit those kids down and make them learn how to reflect (in the academic sense)

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poetryvampire · 8 months ago

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Can I request headcanons for (poly but none of them are dating yet) Zevlor and Rolan reacting to gn human Tav confessing to both of them but they explained they would understand if they're rejected since they're the same kind who has discriminated them so much? With a happy ending please?

Sweet beautiful Anon! Again I thank you deeply for your patience and am sorry it took so long. I absolutely loved the idea though and turned it into a little fic. It is going to be two chapters and here is part one (second one should be ready later this week lol) Please enjoy the angst and yearning (✿◡‿◡) 💜💜💜

Falling into Place

Pt 1 (pt 2 is Here !🥰)

Reader x Rolan x Zevlor

Light suggestive imagery (the nsfw lives in pt two)

You hadn’t intended on being so bold when you planned to visit Ramazith’s tower, but something in the way the corners of Rolan’s mouth curled as he brushed off your words sent a rush of boldness through you. Even as you sat on the corner of his desk, obscuring part of the map that ran past the edge practically hitting the floor, the wizard kept a playful look in his eye that made your heart pound.

“You know, if I wanted a horrid little creature to disturb my work and make a mess of my things I could have picked up an alley cat by now.” He mused, still pretending to read the papers in his hands.

“You should! You’ve got the room now.” You smiled as Rolan rolled his eyes.“Will you at least consider it?”

“Consider roaming around the countryside- for gods knows how long- looking for a troop of goblins?” He leaned back in his chair throwing the papers to the side. “I’m sorry, but it doesn’t sound terribly appealing.”

“Oh come on, won’t it be a nice change from locking yourself in here night and day?” You gesture around you at the chaos of books and scrolls that was his office.

“ Well, hero,” Rolan scoffed. “I am perfectly comfortable in my tower and don’t require saving at the moment. You’ll be the first to know should that change.” He turned his attention back to the map in front of him.

“Please.” You whine. “It’ll be fun! And they’ll just be a few of us. Wyll, Karlach, Zevlor-”

“In that case I must go.” The tiefling wrinkles his nose, cutting you off. For a moment you second guessed how real his annoyance might be. “With all the praise you showered on him after your last little adventure I would have thought him capable of taking down the goblins all by himself.”

“My word, is the great master of Ramazith’s Tower jealous of a paladin?” you tease.

“No.” Rolan snapped quickly. He stood, reaching across the sprawling paper to scribble some notes towards the top. “And could you get off my desk now?”

You didn’t move, rather regarded the wizard and the knit in his brow. It was no secret that he wasn’t the warmest man you’ve known and the signals of his true feelings were sometimes hard to read. Suddenly missing the mild affection he gave you from time to time, you leaned your head against his shoulder causing him to freeze completely.

“Obviously you don’t have to go.” You sighed. “But, I just thought it would be nice. I do like having you around. For some reason.”

He snorted out a small laugh and you could have sworn he shifted closed to you. Even the slight contact brought a smile to your lips.

“Good. The feeling is… mutual.” He paused, his eyes darted about not knowing where to look.“ And I suppose that wizard of yours is still busy boring his students to death?”

“He’s not my wizard. I haven’t got one, unless you’ve suddenly had a change of heart in the last two seconds.” You glance up at him coyly and could have sworn he took a sharp intake of breath.

“Well, it still sounds like a horrible time and I have no real interest in it. However, it would be irresponsible of me to let you lot go on your little adventure without the skills of a wizard. So- to save myself from losing sleep- yes I will-”

You let out a squeal and flung your arms around him causing his words to catch in his throat. Thanking him profusely and you let out a flood of words assuring him his worries were unfounded. Rolan kept still, hardly even breathing, in your embrace. Cautiously, he slid his arms around you and lightly ran his hand up and down your back.

“Now, now, there’s no need for such thanks.” he let out a nervous laugh. “ Not yet anyway. I’m sure I’ll end up pulling you out of some mess before too long.”

The spring in your step as you walked home that evening quickly turned back into worry. It was true that Rolan tagging along would be helpful and- of course- you desperately wanted him around. As the tiefling had advanced in his magical mastery you had seen less and less of him. It made you question if he’d lost some of the little affection he may have held for you. Not that it mattered in the end. You very much doubted you’d have the chance to come clean about your feelings.

You had always taken your time with love affairs, trying to gauge the situation before laying your heart bare. You had a heart overflowing with a care that was more than happy to give to however many people you loved. Of course taking multiple partners wasn’t for everyone and as careful as you were to be honest with potential lovers you had been burned horribly in the past. Rejection was a fear you carried with you now more than ever.

There was no point in lying to yourself anymore. You had never been so in love with two people than you were at the moment. Perhaps serendipity, perhaps a curse, both Rolan and Zevlor had taken your heart utterly. The cleanup and rebuilding of the city would have been impossible without them. They had both spent countless hours at your side ready to aid you in any way you needed. As time pressed on your bonds had deepened and the idea of not having your favourite wizard and paladin in your life broke your heart.

How could you tell either of them the truth when it may mean losing one of your closest friends? Would you have to choose one of them? And if your greatest hope was true and they shared your affection you couldn’t bring yourself to break one of their hearts.

Neither of them had ever indicated how they might feel about having partners. It had never come up in conversation and every time you considered breaching the subject you backed out at the last minute, too afraid of what they may say. As much as you had learned of tiefling culture, you hadn't found anything that may give you a hint. For now the only decision was to try and stay sane while your desire ate you alive.

***

At a glance the journey was off to an excellent start; the weather had been fair and after only a week of travel you had stumbled across a strong lead. The comfortable routine of traveling with your companions was a welcomed change. Rolan seemed in good spirits despite his playful jabs and endless complaints. It was mid way through the second week when everything went south.

The path chosen turned out to be far longer and harder to traverse than you hoped. One with twisting slopes and leaden with brambles and jagged, uneven rocks. After taking a deeply embarrassing tumble, Zevlor had taken to staying at side, ready to offer his hand or an arm to cling to for balance. More than once, perhaps subconsciously, you allowed the contact to pass the need for stability. For a moment you could revel in the dream of having such a kind and gentle man on your arm. Again, you hadn’t meant to over step. The two of you never shied away from physical contact- you’d had plenty of sparring sessions with the man- but there was still an unspoken tension no matter how comfortable you had become. Unlike with Rolan, it was easy to slip over the line- the one you had given yourself- with Zevlor and not even realize it had happened. In the end it always made you feel just as foolish as the night you had invited Rolan. .

To make matters worse the late summer weather had turned uncharacteristically cool and wet. Ending days chilled and soaked to the bone did nothing for morale. As much as you tried to stay optimistic after a few days of truely unpleasant conditions, something in Rolan’s demeanor shifted. His witty remarks turned to a cold silence. He did his duties thoroughly and without complaint all the while seeming a million yards away. You had become certain he was actively avoiding you. Time and again he would distance himself from you however possible. Even when you attempted to assist him he was determined to work alone.

While huddled around a fire for supper with your companions, you found yourself across from Rolan and couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes fell everywhere but forward. As if you weren’t even there. To your surprise Wyll, ever the charismatic one, was able to jump back into a conservation the two had started earlier. The wizard sounded weary but friendly nonetheless. Your gut might as well have sunken into the abyss as you mulled over the past few days. Rolan had become quiet but you had yet to seem in distance himself from Wyll or Karlach. Not as he had done with you and Zevlor. A cold fear ran through your bones at the thought of it being more than bad weather to sour his mood.

The prospects left you dizzy. You couldn’t completely mask the distress in your voice as you made an excuse to retire to your tent. Zevlor followed you, checking if you required any help or healing he could provide. As you reassured him your eyes drifted to the glint of gold shining past his shoulder. You have caught Rolan’s eyes fixed on the two of you before turning back to Wyll.

Most of the night was spent tossing and turning in your bedroll as you tried to quell the endless scenarios in your brain. Tried to swallow down all the tears you’d been holding back for far too long. It felt practically indulgent to imagine Rolan was actually jealous of Zevlor or that he did in fact harbor feelings for you. They both felt out of character for him, or was he just better at hiding it than you had been? Whatever the case, you had awoken early ready to throw yourself into anything that wasn’t thinking about what a fool you’ve been.

Zevlor, as usual, was the only one awake at such an hour. Not wanting to waste the time you had together you decided on a sparring session and settled in a clearing not too far from camp. As skilled a fighter as you were you didn't come close to his mastery of the sword and still had much to learn. As if sensing your need for a distraction Zevlor kept you on your toes, moving with all the grace and ferocity he displayed in a real battle. You were unsure if the stress of your worries had shaken your hand or if Zevlor had finally stopped going easy on you, either way he was subduing you with ease. Frustrations hot in your chest you were becoming more clumsy and frantic with every swing. In a misguided attempt to break the deadlock your shaking arms could barely hold, you tried hooking your foot around Zevlor’s ankle to throw off his balance. However it worked a bit too well, sending the two of you down hard, the tiefling crashing directly on top of you.

You laughed with what little air wasn’t knocked out of your lungs. At the stupid idea, at the befuddled look on Zevlor’s face. You were certain he was about to scold you, but no sound passed his lips. Still breathing hard against you, he studied your face as if trying to solve a riddle. Helpless, you could only gaze up at him. He was a vision, with his hair loose and clinging to his sweat laden brow. A smile bloomed wide across your face. How long had you dreamed of feeling his weight on you? Of looking up into those flaming eyes? Instinctively your hands rose to his shoulders keeping him there. You could feel his breath on your face, the hammering of your heart flooding every vein. Your mind screamed to stop before you only made things worse but you both lingered like this for too long not to act.

Zevlor's whole body tensed as you pressed your lips to his with an aggression he had not been prepared for. Soon he matched your passion and welcomed your curious tongue into his mouth. He moaned your name and you had to fight the urge to wrap your legs around him along with your arms. The worry and uncertainty fell to the back of your mind as your hands found their way across his chest. Dressed down in a tonic, you were able to delight in the pattern of ridges he bore. Your hands roamed everywhere as the paladin’s lips sought to devour you. He moved from mouth to jaw, to neck and back again, kissing and sucking every inch of skin he could find. Drunk on the taste of him, your fingers dipped past his shirt to caress the warm tight muscle of his stomach. Also lost in the sensation he rolled his hips against you causing you both to groan into each other's mouth.

“Stop!” Zevlor tore himself away from you as if burned. Sitting up on his knees he bowed head, red faced and clearly frustrated. “Stop. Please, I don’t want to-to-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, don’t worry.” you move to his side. “I should apologize. I was rash and I haven’t slept and I just-”

“I didn’t want this to happen this way.” His soft eyes meet yours.

You want to ask what he means yet it seems a better solution to leave and blame your actions on the lack of sleep. But the warmth radiating from his weathered face held you like a spell.

“I- the time never felt quite right. And you deserve nothing less than a proper courting, to be adorned with lovely things and beautiful words. However, you know-you must know-” the former commander cups your face with a shocking amount of gentleness for such rough hands. “That I adore you.”

Zevlor’s searched your face. As hard as you tried to steal yourself you couldn’t push down the rush of joy; the pleading in your eyes that invited him into another kiss.

This time his mouth moved slowly, tenderly; it held a sort of honesty that made you shiver. You tried not to get ahead of yourself but you swear you can feel his longing in every movement, as if he had been holding back just as you had. You could feel the grin on those perfectly full lips when he pulled away. Everything you’re about to say leaves your mind as Zevlor's eyes darted suddenly to something behind you. A chill runs down your spine as you whip around to see Rolan standing in the tree line. His look of genuine shock melted into a disdainful grimace.

“There’s breakfast ready. If you’re so inclined.” Rolan spat out before turning on his heel to hastily march back to camp.

Panicked, you jumped to your feet. Calling after the wizard repeatedly only made him move quicker leaving you standing there face hot, pushing down the lump in your throat. You were rooted to the spot, breathing hard. Zevlor’s eyes were on you- you were sure of it- but you didn’t dare look at him.

“I don’t mean to pry,” the tiefling spoke softly. “Have I, perhaps, misjudged the situation?”

“No, Zevlor. I- Gods I'm mad for you. It’s just- I just-it’s hard to-” you fought to keep your voice steady.

“It’s complicated.” His lips held a smile that could not mask the disappointment in his eyes. “I understand. I’ve had my fair share of complications when it comes to romance. And Rolan is a quite accomplished young man.”

“I don’t know what I'm doing. I’m sorry.” you breathed.

“You’ve done nothing wrong. I have heard it said that the course of true love never did run smooth. Should you need to talk or anything really, don’t hesitate to find me.” He affirmed and kissed your hand.

As the two of you made your way back, Zevlor chuckled to himself.

“I must say I am relieved to know that all my worries of you not having an interest in tieflings were unfounded.” He grinned.

Despite your tempest of emotions you couldn’t help but laugh.

#asks #god i love this idea #next one is high drama high romance #idk about breaking it in two be it feels like too long altogether?#bg3 #reader x rolan x zevlor #reader x rolan #reader x zevlor #tav x rolan #tav x zevlor #poly #divider by saradika #rolan #zevlor #scream

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line-of-fire · 2 years ago

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Incident Report

Mys Taran, Kaliningrad Oblast, RUS 54.95966° N, 19.98114° E 14 November 2021 0200 LT

All information that follows is sourced from the operative in question. Due to the nature of the assignment, we have no way to confirm nor deny the truth of her claims.

Operative PIXIE had listened in on a conversation taking place between deceased senior operative BRIAR and local asset ‘BAILEY’ alluding to deals made with a foreign intelligence service and their intent to neutralize PIXIE. PIXIE then proceeded to neutralize both BRIAR and BAILEY, with no reported witnesses. All intel and equipment was recovered from their persons, and the bodies were disposed of.

After returning to the safe house, HQ was contacted and informed of the course of events as previously described. Excess equipment was recovered and an investigation has been launched to verify the information we have been given and gauge the scale of damage that has been done, if any, by the supposed intelligence link. As of the time of this writing, PIXIE is carrying on with her assignment in order to complete the original objectives.

#PIXIE: the forgotten soldier #past: death doesn’t discriminate #my writing #just a little snapshot from her file #in the middle of writing the actual drabble of the even this describes

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eliza-and-her-monsters · 3 months ago

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