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absolutelyfizzing · 3 years

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angels and demons

warren worthington x reader fluff

@shuckfaced-fangirl Hi! can I request a warren worthington x female mutant reader where her powers are shadow summoning? So I guess everyone in the school kind of views her as some sort of demon? With a lot of fluff? Thank you!!

Description - Y/N is a shadow summoner and is isolated from her peers. Warren helps her see that not everyone fears her and that she is worthy of affection.

warnings - its so fluffy. fem pronouns. some angsty stuff (isolation, depression, sadness), one innuendo, devastating fluff, warren being an angel. i tried to make it POC inclusive, please let me know if it feels restricting or excluding and i will edit it.

word count - 3700, i got carried away

A/N - im so sorry this took so long, i took a break from writing while i am working on moving to college. i will still be spotty for the next few weeks but hopefully, i will post a few more things in that time and then get back on a normal schedule. also, thanks so much for this request, i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope it is something you enjoy reading!

MASTERLIST

You walked through the halls with a lowered head. You knew that you made others uncomfortable and so you chose to try to make yourself as small and unthreatening as possible. You had been 'gifted' powers with which you could manipulate and create darkness. You were a shadow summoner. That wasn't a name that many found reassuring or comforting.

There were a few who could see past it and who was close to being what you might call friends but those people were few and far between. There were overwhelmingly more people who believed that you must have been a scary and mean person, that you were some sort of demon. This couldn't have been further from the truth if one were to look past appearances. Your shadow was larger and darker than that of your peers and it trailed behind you with a mind of its own, moving and growing without you even meaning for it to happen. Your hands were constantly covered in something darker and dustier than the rest of your skin, a deep and pure black. It trailed from the tips of your fingers and faded on your forearm so it looked as though you had just dipped your arms into a chimney or that shadows were crawling up your arms.

When you first got them, you thought they were sort of cool. They made you look sort of goth and that was fun. That feeling quickly faded when you saw how others, even your family, reacted. They said it was a curse from hell. You were barely convinced otherwise.

You sat away from others at the school during free periods. During lunch you sat alone and in the sun when you could, you hoped it might make others be less scared of you as it might make you look brighter but your shadow, dark and ominous, maintained a spot near you. You wore clothes that made you look more approachable to try to maintain that you weren't scary. Your brightly colored outfit didn't ever seem to work though, no matter how hard you tried.

You looked down at the food in your hands, the sandwich only half-eaten, and you noted your hands. They were so normal looking, your nails were well kept and you thought they were a good size. That they might even be a good size for someone to hold. The only thing was the unnaturally colored dust that seemed to cover them. It was a cool black, it glistened and sparkled in the sun when your fingers moved. It never moved or transferred to anything else, always stuck securely to your skin. You were distracted by the way your fingers seemed to shine when a shadow came near yours, wings outlined in it. You looked up to see a tall blond boy above you with curly hair and bags under his eyes. He nodded to a spot on the grass near you.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

You shook your head and even scooted away from the spot to give him more space despite the fact that you were in a large field.

"Do you want me to move?" You asked gently, wondering if maybe he wanted this particular spot and you took it from him unknowingly.

"I mean, I think that would sort of take away the whole point of me trying to sit with you." He smirked and you felt blood rush to your cheeks. "I like your hands" He hummed and you looked at him in shock. When his eyes met yours you tilted your head a bit.

"They don't bother you?" You tried to speak softly.

"No, I think they're awesome. They make you look punk." He smiled and you felt the corners of your mouth tug up a bit too.

"I like your wings." You almost mumbled as you allowed your gaze to move to the large feathery wings behind him. They moved in the wind and you found yourself wanting to run your fingers through them. "They make you look like an angel." You smiled and he groaned dramatically.

"I'm trying to look grunge." He pouted and you giggled a bit. At the sound, he looked up at you and blushed a bit. "Maybe we should trade."

"If I could trade you I would. Everyone is scared of how I look." You gazed back at the grass.

"I'm not." His simple statement made butterflies erupt in your stomach and you smiled a bit. You looked back at him and made eye contact for a moment.

"What's your name?" You asked and he maintained his gaze into your eyes. It was the most contact or conversation with someone else you'd had in a long time.

"I'm Warren." He smiled a bit and stuck a hand out to you to shake. You looked at his hand in shock. Nobody ever voluntarily touched your hands. Most of them worried that whatever was on them would spread. You hesitantly brought your hand to his, purposefully giving him plenty of time to remove his hand if he felt uncomfortable. But he didn't. Instead, your hand reached his and he shook it before letting go as if it was no big deal.

"I'm Y/N." You smiled a bit more and you felt a giggle come out of you from the joy of realizing this wasn't a dream, that someone was trying to talk to you and they weren't afraid.

"Is my name that funny?" He teased.

"No, I just-" you paused to think, "it's been so long since anyone has done this with me."

"Talked to you?" He questioned, obviously expecting you to say no and explain what you meant. Instead, you just nodded and his heart clenched for a moment. "Well, you can stick with me then."

"I don't know if you want your reputation to take a hit like that."

"My reputation is 'the angry and damaged kid', I'm sure it can handle the breaking news of me talking to a nice and pretty girl." He reassured before he even realized what he was saying. You could have cried at the feeling that rose up in your chest.

After that day, you stuck to his side like glue and he took no issue with it. The more you got to know him the more you appreciated the fact that he had taken you in. With his help, over the coming months, he helped you develop a stable friend group. That group included people like Ororo and Jane who had heard rumors about you and never bothered to check and see if they were real. They apologized profusely, especially Jean as she felt like she could have easily found out that you were kinder than she thought with her abilities but just had never done so, and you gladly accepted, just happy to be within a group.

You and Warren had developed a reputation. He was overly protective and gruff while you were overly nice and empathetic. You balanced each other well and if you were honest, you were in love with him. That always felt weird to say, you'd never been in love with anyone before but every second you spent with him made you more and more sure of your feelings.

When you and Warren were together, you would daydream about what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. Being held by him and wrapped in his wings. Getting to play with his unkempt hair. Holding his hand.

Sometimes he would try to encourage you to hold his hand. He would hold it out to you when he was helping you jump down from somewhere high. He would ask you to hand him things and then make decisive contact as he took it from you. He knew that it meant a lot to you, you practically gasped and blushed every time he did it. He had never met anyone so touch starved. He wanted to give you all the affection that you craved.

Unfortunately, Warren was rather oblivious, especially towards things like feelings and emotions. He had no clue that you had any interest in him, even though he hoped you did every day. If he wasn't so attached to your friendship, he might ask you out. Instead, he tried to maintain a friendly distance so he didn't cross any lines while also being as affectionate with you as he could be. You followed a similar path.

The person caught in the middle of this was poor Jean Gray. she had watched you pine over each other since you met and had heard every thought that went through both of your heads. She knew you would never complain or ask for help about anything so she liked to keep tabs on your thoughts every once in a while to make sure you were okay. Still, she tried her best to not listen very often or when you were thinking about anything very personal, she honestly did. But she was a romantic. All she wanted was for you two idiots to get together but you were both oblivious. She decided, probably 3 months into you becoming friends, that she had to do something about it.

She was sitting on your bed while you sat across your bedroom on your small couch. She fiddled with her thumbs while she tried to ignore your constant thoughts about Warren, his hands, his wings, his smile. She was exhausted. she took a small breath while she planned how she would try to say this to you.

"Do you want to know what I heard today?" She called and you looked up at her from the book you were pretending to read.

"Do you mean heard or 'heard'?" You laughed and she rolled her eyes.

"Either." Then she tilted her head. "Both."

"Yeah, I wanna know! What's it about?" You asked while leaning forward in your seat. Jean always had the best gossip to tell because she could literally hear it.

"Warren." She stated simply and watched your reaction. You flushed and stopped breathing for a moment.

"Wha-" you stuttered, "what about him?"

"That he has a thing for you." she winked and you flushed even more.

"You're lying." You assured, a questioning look on your face.

"I'm not and I'm tired of watching you two longing after one another while the rest of the school watches." She smiled and your heart picked up.

"I thought I told you not to look in my head!" You scolded but you weren't actually all that upset. You knew that it was very hard for her to control.

"I cant help it! Both of you think so loud. And I wouldn't have to anyway, Ororo mentioned it to me the other day and she definitely cants read minds." She giggled and you smiled a bit.

"Does he actually like me?" You almost whispered in disbelief.

"Yes! He's been obsessed with you since you started talking."

"But like he would want to actually go-"

"Y/N, I swear to god. If you don't go and talk to him right now I'm going to have a fit." She laughed and you glared at her.

"Okay okay fine, I'm going," you grumbled as you stood and walked toward your door. "If you are wrong I'm gonna be so upset with you."

She just laughed again and you started to walk down the hallway. You thought he might be in his room or outside. You decided to check his room first.

You knocked on his door but you were met with silence. You tried the handle and it moved.

"Warren?" you paused, "I'm coming in," you warned and pushed the door open. When you looked inside, he wasn't there. You took a moment to gaze around his room, it wasn't the first time you had been in there but every time was a bit exciting as you got to see all of the things he had that represented him. He had a boombox and a CD collection on his dresser. Some of his clothes were thrown around his room haphazardly and some of his drawers were open. You looked at the wall next to you where he kept photos that you took. You would carry around a camera or take pictures on your phone of everyone around campus. He always asked for them and then printed them out so he could hang them up. He had even managed to get a couple of you. You smiled a bit before heading back into the hallway, closing the door behind you.

You instead moved towards the door to get out onto the lawn where you thought he would probably be. He often sat under the big oak trees or on the roof if he wanted to get away from people. When you made it outside, you looked around for him.

"Y/N!" you heard him shout. You turned to look for him and saw his silhouette flying from the roof. You paused to admire him and his wings. He always looked so angelic to you. So powerful. You thought about how your power emanated darkness. That you would never appear angelic to someone and would more likely look like a demon. You looked down at your hands for a second, a habit you had when you were thinking about your powers. They sparkled a bit in the sun but it did little to quell the distaste in your mouth.

Suddenly there was a shadow in front of you that was not part of the darkness that surrounded you.

"Y/N?" he asked gently. "Are you okay?" he tried not to startle you. Being empathetic wasn't something that came naturally to him, but he tried extra hard around you. he noticed the way you were staring at your hands. The growth of your shadow as you thought about your powers more. He moved to touch one of your hands but you flinched back a bit. He brought his hand back and looked at you with concern. "Whats wrong, angel?" He asked lightly and you looked up at the pet name. He had started calling you that soon after you became friends. You thought it was out of irony but he really was convinced that you were some sort of angel. He also loved the way that your eyes would light up when he said it. You stared at him for a moment in silence.

"Do I scare you?" You asked quietly and your voice shook. He looked surprised by your question and you were surprised too. You didn't know why you were suddenly getting emotional. Why this was now all you could think about. Why it had to come up now when you were trying to express your feelings for him. Instead of responding he reached out to your hand, holding onto it when you let him, despite flinching away slightly. He started to walk, leading you toward the same tree you had met under. Once you both reached it he sat down and looked up at you, waiting for you to sit down too. You did, maybe a bit farther away from him than you needed to be.

"Do you think you scare me?" he asked genuinely and you took a second to think, looking back down at your hands which were now pulled back into your lap.

"I scare me," you stated simply and paused.

"That's not what I asked."

"I don't know." You mumbled. "I think I freak everyone out. Including you I guess." Your voice was quieter than you meant it to be. you really hadn't thought about it in a little while. It had been on your mind plenty when you first started talking to him. You were extra conscious of not pushing him to be around you or near your shadow. You knew that he would move away if he needed to but you also had so many memories of everyone around you fearing you, running from you, telling you that you were a curse. Instead of responding he held his hand out in between the two of you, palm up. You knew that he was inviting you to take it but that he wouldn't push you to. Instead of taking it, you placed your hand near his on the ground and he left his next to yours, not trying to take it if you didn't want him to.

"You don't." He let out, sounding sure of himself and slightly pained. "You don't scare me." You looked at each other. He had tears in his eyes. He was never one to get emotional so you were surprised. "Do I scare you?" he questioned, already knowing your answer but trying to prove a point.

"Of course not." You sighed.

"You have a lot more reason to be afraid of me than I have to be afraid of you." he looked at your hand again. "I'm the one who has a rough history, I'm the one who is angry and has a reputation of being aggressive."

"But, Warren, your mutation is-"

"Mutation has nothing to do with it, Y/N." he sighed. "You have control over your abilities, I have control over mine. The only difference between us is our personalities and I have never had any reason to fear you or dislike you. You're the kindest person I know and everyone in your life who has let you think that there was something wrong with you was terrible. And that was on them."

Your hand reached for his and you laced your fingers together. He squeezed your hand and ran his thumb over the back of it.

"I love you." The words came out of your mouth faster than you could think and you sucked in a breath, almost hoping he didn't hear you. When you glanced up at him he had a gentle smile on his face. He brought the back of your hand up to his face and kissed it before placing it against his cheek.

"I love you too, Y/N" He reached out for your waist and pulled you toward his lap, giving you plenty of time to give him a sign that you were uncomfortable. Instead, you put your leg over his waist so you were straddling his thighs. You held one of his hands in between you and fiddled with his fingers, admiring how your hands contrasted with his. Somehow, him holding your hand made it seem less out of place. You almost felt pride.

You were suddenly surrounded by warmth and shadow, the sounds of the quad around you becoming muted. You looked up around you and his wings were wrapped around the two of you, closing you off into your own little world. You felt the urge to reach out to them but you had never asked. You had never seen him let anyone touch them and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Go ahead." your eyes snapped to his in shock.

"Warren, you never let any-"

"I want you to," he admitted and it was true. He had thought many times about asking you to run your fingers through his wings. He would never complain about it but they were a little high maintenance and also sensitive. He never let anyone touch them because most people weren't gentle or he didn't trust them. He knew though that you were the gentlest person on Earth and that he could count on you to be careful.

At his reassurance, you smiled a bit. You reached a hand out to the part of his wing next to his shoulder. You both gasped a bit when your fingers made contact. Warren was a bit surprised at how sensitive they were to your touch and it had been a long time since anyone but himself had touched them. You were entranced by how soft they were. The feathers were delicate and there were so many. You were very careful in how you moved your hand along his wing, looking at him often to see if he was uncomfortable. As you were carding your fingers through his feathers, one came out. You gasped slightly horrified that you had hurt him.

"Hey, it's okay!" he rushed out as he saw your panic. "They just sort of... shed sometimes." He almost seemed embarrassed. Feathers would come off occasionally and he would often have to brush through them himself to release all of the loose feathers, sort of like brushing your hair. He reached to pick up the feather and held it in front of you for you to take. You gladly did and you twirled it in your fingers. "Maybe sometime, if you wouldn't mind, of course, you could help me brush through them?" he asked quietly and you smiled.

"Yeah of course. They seem like they might be a lot of work." you were touched that he trusted you to do that and you thought about how hard it must be to take care of them by himself when they were so big and most of his wings were behind him.

"You should see what it's like to shower with them," he grumbled and then his eyes widened at what he had said. He hadn't meant it to be an innuendo but now he was worried he offended you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and you fell into a fit of giggles.

"I might have to take you up on that offer." Your gentle gaze made him blush. He had never felt this comfortable with anyone. This safe. He decided right then that he would do anything you ever asked of him.

After that day, you and Warren became the cutest couple at the school. You were opposites in multiple ways and your relationship was more wholesome than any of your friends could handle. You got more confident in yourself and your abilities and he allowed himself to be more vulnerable. everyone agreed that you were a match made in heaven.

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gotham-ruaidh · 3 years

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Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

This story takes place during the summer of 1987. It's the time of the Cold War, and heavy metal, and Just Say No.

Ten chapters, each with a specific song as its soundtrack.

I'm so excited to finally share it with you.

----

Chapter 1: Starry Eyes

Soundtrack: "Starry Eyes," Mötley Crüe, 1981 [click here to listen]

It was quiet here in the mountains.

Claire Beauchamp drew in a long, shaky breath of clear, crisp air, and tucked her legs up onto the seat of the Adirondack chair. Watching the sun set over the valley.

Gripping the arm of the chair with shaky hands.

Behind her on the deck, a dozen or so strangers – men and women – shuffled into their own chairs, or to square tables with board games under one arm. Chatter wafted through the door that led into The Ridge’s main building.

The brochure that Joe Abernathy had pressed into her hands, sitting in the back seat of his Jaguar sedan while his wife Gail drove them to the airport, described The Ridge as a residential treatment facility. Her mind was still reeling from the intervention, and that Gail had already packed her a duffel bag stuffed with essentials – it had all been so seamless.

There were many things Claire had wanted to block out in the two years since she’d left Frank and everything had fallen apart. Many things she had shut out from the world around her, paralyzed by pain. But she hadn’t lost all of her faculties quite yet.

Because no matter what The Ridge called itself, no matter how beautiful the landscaping of its grounds, or the plush cushions on the chairs, or the gourmet meals prepared by the in-house chef (herself five years in recovery, or so the brochure proudly proclaimed), there was no hiding what it really was.

Rehab.

Claire was there because she was an addict.

And she would stay there until she had unfucked her life.

“Excuse me?”

She turned to see a tall man, red hair down to his shoulders, colorful tattoos covering every inch of his arms and disappearing beneath the sleeves of a well-fitted black t-shirt.

“May I sit next to you?”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He flopped down into the chair, crossed his long legs, and lay both palms on the armrests, thumbs tapping a quick beat.

“First day?”

It had been forty six hours since her last fix, and pain sliced her skull. She hadn’t gone this long without in more than a year. “Yes,” she murmured.

Now his fingers joined in the tapping. “Thought so. The new ones always come in the middle of the day – that’s why Group is always in the afternoons. So we can have our individual sessions in the morning, and meet all together in the afternoon. It helps to stick to a schedule.”

She turned in the chair to look at him. He wasn’t looking at her – just gazing straight ahead – but he kept talking. “Anyway, it’ll just be a few minutes until dinner. I hope you like Mexican – they take Taco Tuesdays pretty seriously around here.”

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name. I know we introduced ourselves at Group, but it’s all just a blur.”

He turned to face her, and she could hear his smile. “Don’t worry about it. You’re Claire – pills addict. That’s what you told us, anyway.”

“It’s true.”

“Well then.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Jamie – I’m an alcoholic. Bourbon, mostly. And a little bit of cocaine, now and again.”

She gripped his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m a sex addict, too,” he added. “John – my therapist here – he said that the more honest I am, the better it will be for me later on.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” she said, not quite sure what else to say.

“I’ve hurt a lot of people by not being honest, and by drinking, and not being honest about my drinking.” He folded his hands in his lap. Lallybroch read one tattoo inching up his left arm, and Ellen read another. “I’m on the tenth step. I’ve learned a lot so far.”

Claire stared down at her own hands – bare, except for her mother’s silver wedding band, which Uncle Lamb had given her when she was twelve. “Well, if we’re going for honesty – I’m a trauma surgeon, at one of the top hospitals in Boston. My asshole ex-husband used to hit me, and I prescribed myself some ludes to deaden everything. I wrote out the scripts to him, then took them to the pharmacy myself.” She pursed her lips, feeling his eyes on her. “I thought I had it under control – I thought that nobody noticed. Until I showed up high one day, and made a stupid mistake, and almost killed a patient.”

He was strangely quiet – and after silently counting to twenty, Claire looked up at him. He was still tapping his fingers against the armrest of the chair, though in a more structured, organized rhythm. Nodding his head. Thinking.

“It was my best friend who got me here,” he said softly. “I’ve known him since we were kids – he even married my sister. He saw what I was doing to myself, how much I was hurting her, and hurting the thing that he and I had worked so hard to build.” A spray of black and white stars flexed above his elbow. “Who got you here?”

“My best friend. We went to medical school together – he was my man of honor at my wedding. He and his wife staged a full-on intervention.”

Jamie’s brows lifted. “Wow.”

She nodded, encouraged. “I’d already been indefinitely suspended without pay from the hospital. I figured, what do I have to lose?”

“Yeah. We have to reach that point.”

A metallic clang pierced the air – and Claire jumped.

Jamie smiled. “That’s the literal dinner bell. Like I said, I hope you like tacos.”

Claire slid forward in the chair and stood, stretching. “I could eat anything right about now. I’m not too picky.”

Now Jamie stood – and smiled down at her. “I’m helping get everyone seated tonight – we all pick up chores around here. See you in there?”

She smiled back. “Yeah. And thanks for talking to me.”

“No sweat.” Quickly he stepped away from her and across the deck toward the door back inside.

“Hey.”

Claire turned to see a woman – young, dark-haired, size zero – remove her enormous sunglasses.

“Yes?”

“I can’t believe you were talking to him!” she exclaimed.

Claire shoved her hands into her pockets. “What do you mean?”

The woman shook her head. “Do you even know who he is?”

“He introduced himself. Seemed nice enough. Why?”

The woman huffed and flipped her hair over one shoulder. “That’s Jamie Fraser. You know – the singer and lead guitarist in Print?”

“Print?” Claire searched her scattered memory. “Isn’t that some hard rock band?”

“Not just some band – the biggest band in the world for at least five years now. Like, dozens of hits, videos on MTV 24/7, big stadium tours, and armloads of awards. I’ve been trying to get his attention since I got here! And he just walked right up to you!”

It had been a long day. Claire was hungry, and tired, and wanted nothing more than an aspirin and a pillow – maybe a taco first. Definitely not any more time with this girl.

“Well, thanks for the info – ”

“Geneva,” the woman explained. “I’m an alcoholic. You?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Claire made a beeline for the door.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #little bit better than i used to be #here we go

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littlemissnoname13 · 4 years

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I have always known- Part 2 (Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader)

Summary: What happens when you find Draco Lucius Malfoy standing on a ledge at the Astronomy tower, ready to pitch himself off

Pairing: (Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!reader) HBP era

Warnings: Mentions of suicidal tendencies, self harm, angst, smut

Words: 1500+

A/n: Thank you to everyone who read part one from the bottom of my heart. It means so much to me! <3

If you haven’t already, you can read part one over here.

Draco let the revelations sink their way into his brain as he carefully and meticulously recalled that fateful day at the ledge once more.

He recalled how he’d sat alone, hugging his knees at the tower later that night after you’d convinced him to get down from the ledge.

His shirt sleeve—pushed up as he stared at the nasty looking snake and skull etched into his forearm all the while fighting a strong urge to gnaw at the flesh till the mark came off.

And just when he thought he’d cave into his urges, something fluttering,speckled in black and orange caught Draco’s eyes.

The paleness of the moonbeam made the Monarch butterfly seem almost iridescent and he held his breath watching it land gently on the palm of his hands.

“I should have known.” Draco finally shouted pacing back and forth in the room of requirement as he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. “Of course it was you—How could I have not realised! I mean who else would even want to turn into a butterfly at will?!”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked as you walked towards him—completely ignoring the fact that your shirt was still lying somewhere on the floor.

“The fucking butterfly tattoo, the whole the-world-is-full-of-goodness-and-sunshine attitude.” He scoffed. “Coincidence? I think not.”

“Draco—” you attempted to reach for his hand but he instantly pulled it away.

“Only you would be stupid enough to stick around a bloody death eater despite knowing.”

“Please just calm down—” You began reaching for him once again and he winced at your touch like it pained him as you gently grabbed onto his wrist.

“No.” He shook his head as he cut you off hastily. “Listen to me y/n, and listen to me carefully —You need to stay the fuck away from me.”

“Malfoy please. Just hear me out. I’m sorry for sneaking up on you that night. I shouldn’t have.”

You took a few mindful steps towards him.

He looked absolutely furious at first glance with his bloodshot eyes, heavy breathing and slightly flared nostrils. But when you observed him more carefully, you saw the helpless and vulnerable boy from the ledge again. Tucked away somewhere in the depths of this tired and sunken eyes.

Branded at such a young age.

Forced to give up his youth and any shard of innocence he had left inside of him.

While his friends may have been playing quidditch, getting into trouble and stressing out about their homework, here he was stressing out about the god damned cabinet like his life depended on it.

You felt a sharp stab at your heart when you remembered.

His life did depend on it.

“Please y/n. Just go away.” He pleaded with this voice cracking as you slowly wrapped your arms around his stiff torso and placed your head on this chest. “Don't make it harder than it already is.”

Draco was right.

This was wrong on so many levels.

You knew better than to melt into the arms of a death eater.

But you were already too fucking deep in.

You knew exactly what you were in for when you gave him a smile at potions class. You knew how grave the situation really was every time you walked towards the Slytherin common room with your book bag full of food you’d snuck out from the kitchens.

You knew full well that the task given to him was no child’s play.

Even though he’d barely said anything during your nights at the tower, you’d gotten to know him by the way his eyes widened when you kept blabbering about the most mundane details of your day.

You’d learned him and the way his brows furrowed in frustration while he spent hours on end trying to fix the vanishing cabinet. He was completely unaware of the fact that you constantly looked up from your book to steal quick a glance at him.

“Okay. I’ll go away.” You whispered pressing yourself impossibly close to him.

“Good.” He mumbled even though his slender arms found their way around your waist. He rested his chin to the top of your head and the smell of your smell of your shampoo comforted him.

Contradictory words and actions. Nobody did it better than Draco and Y/n.

You held onto the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards you until your lips were pressed against his. As your lips moved against his, you noticed that he had let his arms fall from your waist.

But before the waves of disappointment could hit you, Draco’s right hand made its way towards the base of your neck while he raked his left hand through your hair.

It would be an absolute understatement to say that he kissed you feverishly.

He may have told you to go away and you may have agreed but the way your lips moved together told a different story altogether. The way he lightly bit your bottom lip before hungrily exploring your mouth with his tongue gave everything away.

Draco Lucius Malfoy was a goner.

The passion and aggression in your kisses had you both tugging at each other's clothes- gasping for air.

It wasn't long before you found yourself pressed up against the wall again while your bra quickly got discarded.

“Stunning.” He breathed trying to commit every bit of your exposed skin to his memory.

He wasted little to no time covering the exposed bits of your skin with open-mouthed kisses. The already existing marks on your neck only darkened with each kiss as you let your fingers comb through this hair—gripping. Encouraging him to kiss you harder.

And when he placed his lips over your taut nipple, he had to remind himself to be gentle with you even though It was impossibly hard for him.

That wasn’t the only thing that was impossibly hard.

Especially when you whimpered and moaned his name over and over again.

You gently pushed his shirt back indicating that you wanted it off and while he hesitated for a brief second, the shirt was quickly discarded next to your bra on the floor.

He suckled and caressed your breasts and you dug your nails on his biceps arching your back, desperate for more.

His fingers skillfully touched you in places that made you blush as you kept moaning deliriously.

Over and over again.

Soon enough, you were lying on our back on the floor as he hovered on top of you, propped up against his elbows and you were seconds away from begging him to take you then and there.

“We don't have to do this if you don't want to y/n.” He said softly. His darkened grey eyes went back to their normal color and you could see the sincerity in his eyes while he asked you.

“I want you. Please. I just want you.” You pleaded bucking your hips as you caressed his face in reassurance.

“Fuck” he hissed as he slipped inside of you and you struggled to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head when he started to move. Slow and steady at first before he took you harder and faster.

You felt like the last days of summer in Draco’s arms as he took you.

The kind of day he desperately wanted to hold onto before an impending Autumn.

There was a cacophony of sounds in the room of requirement.

The sounds of skin against skin.

Your pants, and moans.

His grunts and curses.

Draco.

Only his name escaped your lips when you fell apart at his mercy. Waves upon waves of pure, unadulterated, leg spasming pleasure as you came.

Y/n.

And only our name rolled out of his tongue when he found his release inside of you. Glistening beads of sweat on his forehead and veins slightly visible on his neck.

When it was over, he conjured up a blanket and wrapped his arms around you, greedily scooping as much of you as he could into his embrace.

You felt his fingertips trace the outline of your butterfly tattoo before he placed his lips over it. Kissing it gently.

The gesture softened you just like you softened him but he wasn’t going to admit that. Not anytime soon anyway.

“Why butterfly y/n?” He whispered tracing shapes onto your bare skin. “Your tattoo, your animagus.”

“Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect Draco?” You asked, pushing his hair away from his eyes as he shook his head.

“They say that when a butterfly flaps its wings in one part of the world, it causes a storm elsewhere.”

He blinked his eyes at you in confusion and you gave him a small smile before placing a tiny kiss at the corner of his lips, continuing.

“Every small change counts Draco, a small change in the present can garner a completely different outcome in the future.”

He stared at you as you shook your head and mumbled “I just like to believe that our actions matter you know. I don’t know. I just—nevermind.”

You soon fell asleep in his sturdy, safe arms as he held onto you tightly staying up all night to savor the moment.

Little did you know, the butterfly effect stuck with him.

It stuck with him through the war and even after the war.

Just like you did.

The girl who kept him alive and kicking.

The girl with her butterfly tattoo.

~~~~~~

And that’s it. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Tagging those who wanted a part 2: @imbadwithunsernames @dumbassswhore @larywitchlingacademic @lainphotography ❤️

#harry potter #slytherin #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco smut

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startanewdream · 3 years

Note

I would love a number 3 Jily from the kissing prompt list.

Also sorry I ordered this like I'm at a fast food restaurant 😂

Hiiii! Considering how long it took me to answer it, it was not fast at all!

Thanks for this prompt! I thought a lot how to fill the idea of a Jily enemies-to-lovers kiss because I thought by the time they shared kisses they would be a lot more friends... then I messed a bit with canon and found this way. Hope you enjoyed it!

Set during their Fifth Year.

Read on AO3 or below:

Seven minutes in heaven

Sirius holds his chin languidly as he considers Peter’s question.

‘Three,’ is his answer, unashamed and not pretentious in a way that James can’t help but feel jealous.

Three .

Sirius kissed three people already and James has never kissed anyone.

It shouldn’t be a competition, because he doesn’t compete with Sirius — for most of the things they are equal, their grades always so close that for a while the professors thought they had to be cheating in exams.

But Sirius kissed three people and he doesn’t even notice all the stares he gets. It doesn’t seem fair.

I’m better than him at Quidditch , James tries to tell himself, but somehow this thought doesn’t bring him any satisfaction. While he was scoring goals, Sirius was scoring something else and though it’s not a competition he can’t help but think he is losing .

The bottle spins again and again and James eyes it with uneasiness. He will pick dare if the bottle points at him, because he always chooses dare on principle, but this time he knows he just doesn’t want anyone to ask how many people he has kissed before.

But the bottle stops at Lily Evans, who watches carefully the person at the other end before saying: ‘Dare.’

Mary grins mischievously. ‘I dare you to tell me who is the most gorgeous bloke in our year.’

James almost rolls his eyes at that, because everyone always says it’s Sirius so it’s not even an interesting question; but to his surprise, Evans just shakes her head, looking flustered.

‘No, that’s against the rules. You can’t ask a question in a dare.’

‘You are no fun, Lily,’ Mary answers, and James feels like this is some inside joke between them; he wonders what's the discussion about who Evans thinks it's gorgeous. ‘Fine, I dare you to try seven minutes in heaven.’

‘You can’t involve anyone else in a dare —’

‘I am not choosing anyone now . You’ll wait there until the next dare.’

Evans seems to consider this before she nods, grimacing, obviously not happy. The rest just watches Evans and Mary; they were the ones that came with that muggle game for animating that chilly October Friday night, and they are the ones that decide the rules.

‘If you are picked, I’ll be spending those seven minutes turning your life into hell,’ Evans warns Mary, her voice amiably, and James almost smiles. Sometimes Evans is funny. ‘The first broom closet to the right, okay?’

Mary nods.

‘What’s seven minutes in hell?,’ Remus asks, curious, watching Evans leaving the Common Room. James feels a little impressed; there are only fifteen minutes until curfew, and for good-girl Lily Evans to risk a detention, she must really take the game seriously.

‘In heaven,’ Mary corrects, grinning. ‘It’s a dare where two people spend seven minutes together in a room. Or in this case, the first broom closet to the right leaving the Common Room.’

‘And what do people do then?’

‘You’ll see if you pick dare,’ Mary answers genially. She indicates the bottle to Remus. ‘Spin it?’

Remus does, but now he is blushing. James looks around; Sirius doesn’t look particularly excited, but Peter has the flushed expression on his face, a little dreamy, and James knows he is far away. Or rather his thoughts are in the broom closet next to the Common Room.

Seven minutes in heaven with Evans ? James tries to imagine it, but he can’t, not really. It wouldn’t be heaven ; she would fulfill her promise of making it a hell, because he and Evans don’t really get along. She gets annoyed with every little thing he and his friends do, never cracking a smile and, most of all, always sticking with her annoying Slytherin friend. Snivellus . There is no way that seven minutes with Evans could ever be fun…

‘James?’

He blinks, coming back to reality. Sirius is looking at him with an innocent expression that doesn’t fit him.

‘What?’

‘I asked, truth or dare?’

‘Dare,’ answers James without thinking, because he can’t risk saying truth ( no, I have never kissed anyone, I’m a failure, ok? ), before he realizes what this means.

And then everyone is smirking at him, knowing looks on their faces that makes James want to flush, except James Potter doesn’t get embarrassed. Not in public. Not evidently. He has an image to uphold.

‘Go on, then, James,’ says Sirius, indicating the portrait. ‘I dare you to spend seven minutes with Evans. Heaven or hell, it’s up to you.’

The girls giggle, and James raises quietly, pretending it’s everyday that he gets to be in a broom closet with a girl, that this is very normal for him. He grins as smugly as he can, but the smile vanishes as soon as he turns his back to him.

Seven minutes in a broom closet with a girl . Not any girl. Lily Evans, really?

And then as he is leaving, he hears Mary’s whisper: ‘Maybe Lily will finally kiss someone, you think?’

Hmm, James considers. So Evans has never kissed anyone either?

He thinks about it; it’s not like he has paid attention to Evans so far, but he knows she has been on a date before. He may have heard something about her meeting the Hufflepuff prefect in the last Hogsmeade weekend, but that was not a thought that had bothered him.

But if he’d think about Lily Evans in a way that he had never really thought before, what would he think? Well, James is not immune to girls , not at all, but it’s just he never looked at Evans because he should feel attracted to someone who is nice to him, right? Like Emme Vance; she winked at him after the first game of the season, and he’d felt something warm inside him. If only he had not been distracted by a comment from Sirius, then he’d have gone talk to her and then his never-kiss-anyone problem would have already been fixed…

But since this is a problem he apparently shares with Evans, maybe, just maybe, they can solve it together?

It’s not a bad idea, he thinks, and when he opens the door of the broom closet, for a split second, he considers that it’s a great idea. Now he is positively considering Lily Evans as someone kissable, for the first time he really notices the thing he may already have noticed about her before, but disconsidered only because he and Evans don’t get along.

And the things is that Evans is a girl and James likes girls. And she is pretty, with her long auburn hair that falls on her shoulders, that fair skin that seems so soft, her full pink lips, and her green eyes that seem to shine under the light coming from the open door. Then his eyes fall to her chest, to the curves that weren't there in the 11-year-old Evans he remembers annoying since their First Year, and, yes, Evans is a girl and James likes girls and his body has a sudden urge to remind him of this.

He looks hastily at her eyes, hoping she didn’t notice where he was staring and trying to look nice and very kissable too; but the first words that come out of Evans’ mouth are not encouraging.

‘Oh, it’s you .’

Her contempt is nearly enough to make him regret everything he thought, but his stupid teenage body isn’t always on the same page as his mind.

He closes the door, only the dim light of the lamp above them illuminating the small closet.

‘Let me guess,’ he begins, looking for the way to most annoy her. It’s a favourite pastime of his and much easier than dealing with his sudden… attraction… to her. ‘You wished it was Sirius .’

She raises her eyebrows, not impressed. ‘I was hoping it was Mary,’ she says without any shame. ‘I had planned to transform one of these buckets into a rat, she hates them.’

‘You weren’t kidding with those seven minutes in hell, were you?’

‘It’s her fault for picking the worst dare,’ Evans says, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. ‘Seven minutes in heaven , as if.’

His annoyance flares up. He still thinks Evans is gorgeous, especially with the way she crosses her arms under her chest, highlighting some curves very beautifully, but they don’t get along and they never will.

‘Your friends seem to think you’d take advantage of those seven minutes,’ he says, smirking, watching her eyes narrow in what it’s her favourite expression for him. He adores pissing her off. ‘Never kissed anyone, Evans?’

She blushes, a pinkness colouring her cheeks in the most charming way and James wants to touch her face, feel his cold hands burning with the warmth of her skin.

No, stop it , he shouldn’t want to touch her. He doesn’t stand her. And vice versa.

‘Don’t talk about you don’t know, Potter,’ she tells him angrily, but it’s just the same anger that James would use if the situation was reversed and he knows he hit a nerve.

‘What, been kissing Snivellus?’

‘Don’t call him that,’ she answers immediately. ‘And we are just friends, stop being creepy.’

‘But would you consider kissing his mouth? ‘Cause that’s creepy, Evans.’

‘I said we are only friends. You might try someday.’

‘I have friends,’ James says smugly, and Evans rolls eyes, but doesn’t reply. ‘If you never kissed anyone, what did you and Smith do last Hogsmeade weekend? Held hands like you were twelve?’

She searches her pocket for her wand, but it’s not there, so Evans throws him a look that would curse him if she had this power.

‘It’s none of your business, Potter. And I haven’t seen you having any dates to talk about my life!’

It’s true, but James can’t let her know that. ‘Oh, noticing if I have dates, Evans? What, you were jealous ?’

He takes a step closer to her, enjoying the way she just looks more nervous. That’s something more familiar for him, annoying Evans, and it’s much more comfortable to deal with, especially because if he is not concentrating, he would notice how she smells very nice.

And James is not thinking about that, of course.

‘I would be sorry for anyone who has to endure a date with you,’ she answers evenly. ‘Trust me, these seven minutes are taking way too long — imagine a full day.’

‘One might think you were imagining a full day with me, Evans.’

‘Only if I was in a nightmare.’

‘So I do appear in your dreams.’

‘Nightmares,’ she repeats, her eyes pure steel as she glares at him; James should notice the warning that look gives (he shouldn’t push her too much ), but for once he can only think on how green her eyes are, like the Forbidden Forest at night.

And he enjoys too much walking in the Forbidden Forest.

‘Maybe if you had a date with someone else you’d stop wondering about my dates,’ she declares, hissing. ‘Do you know what I imagine, Potter? You never had any date.’

‘I have,’ he lies easily, his hand running absently through his hair. ‘Just because I don’t go showing off about it —’

‘You? Not showing off? When was the last time you did something and didn’t brag about it?’

‘A gentleman does not show off,’ he says, which is something his father told him once but James didn’t think about it until now.

‘If you were a gentleman,’ she replies, a knowing smirk on her face that tells her she knows she hit a nerve with him too. Evans knows he never kissed anyone, and he can see her smugness about it, and if she tells anyone — Merlin, if she tells Snivellus he will never survive it…

‘Do you know what I imagine , Evans?’, he says, throwing her words back at her desperately. ‘That Smith kissed you and you were horrible at it.’

Her flushes intensifies, but if it’s shame or anger, James can’t know. She uncrosses her arms, coming closer, finger pointing at him menacingly.

‘He didn’t — you don’t know what you are talking about!’

‘I bet you don’t know how to snog.’

‘I can kiss just fine , Potter!’, she replies angrily (it’s anger after all, James realizes) and then she does the last thing James really imagined she would do.

She presses her lips against his.

And for two seconds, that’s all they do, really; he doesn’t know what’s keeping her immobile, and he almost asks if her brain has just turned to jelly too, because that’s what’s happening to him.

And then, in the fogness of his numb mind, other things emerge quietly. Her perfume, so close now that it’s more powerful than any other smell in the closet; the warmth of her skin, very different from that cold night; the green in her open eyes as she stares at him, as in shock as he feels, before the eyes are closed, stopping him from reading her emotions; and the sweetness of her lips, a hint of caramel that he suddenly wishes he can taste properly.

His eyes close and, in the darkness, all he can feel is Lily Evans.

They take a step closer in a synchrony that James knows they never had before, and then Evans’ hands are holding his arm and James holds her face. He moves his lips very tentatively, wanting to share more of that (whatever that is), and Evans raises on her tiptoes, her lips parting just the slightest. He feels her breath — it’s the butterbeer, a part of his mind realizes as if he should already know — and suddenly he wants to taste the drink too in her mouth.

(Is it possible to get drunk on a non-alcoholic drink? Because he feels intoxicated).

His tongue touches her lips, again tentatively (he has no idea what he’s doing, but so far things seem right), and she parts her lips even more, allowing him in. James has another moment of panic ( what is he supposed to do now? ), but then Evans’ tongue meet his and this feels right too.

Not just right. It sends shivers down his spine, it makes the world spins around him as if he is afloat and the only thing connecting to Earth is Evans’ lips and the way they move and Merlin why hasn’t he ever kissed Evans before ? He feels disconnected, as if he is watching them kissing from above, and James nearly laughs at the idea that he is snogging Lily Evans in a broom closet, that’s so unlikely — didn’t they hate each other?…

Then she breaks apart, jumping violently backwards, a look of terror on her face, and when James opens his eyes he sees that along with that kiss Evans was sharing the same thoughts as him.

She was in a broom closet snogging James Potter .

He breathes hard, urging air to fill his lungs; apparently kissing stops his natural reaction of breathing — though not other reactions. His body seems to be working overtime, judging by the way his heart is beating too fast in his chest.

Evans is out of breath too; he sees her chest rising and falling fast — then Evans notices his stares and she crosses her arms protectively, recovering faster than him.

‘I told you I could kiss,’ she says, voice full of dignity and he envies her for that.

James couldn’t form a sentence if his life depended on it.

‘You will not tell this to anyone,’ she adds, eyes narrowed again in what used to be James' favourite expression. Now he isn't sure. ‘I — I will deny it if anyone asks, so you will just look like a liar.’ She watches him. ‘Potter?’

‘Okay,’ he whispers, though he is not sure what he just agreed to. His brain is still not functioning properly.

‘Let’s go,’ she says, walking past him and opening the door, leaving just a hint of her perfume in the air.

He follows her, more on instinct than anything, surprised with the fact that he can walk .

People cheer when they enter the Common Room and James steals a glance at Evans. She looks normal, undisturbed, not at all like she has just shared a kiss with James that he… that he really wants to repeat.

‘You still have two minutes!,’ Mary notices, shaking her head disapprovingly at Evans, who just shrugs.

‘Two more minutes and one of us might not leave there alive,’ she says casually, sitting next to Mary.

‘James?,’ Sirius calls him, watching him closely, and James forces a smile upon his face.

‘Evans is right. One of us might not survive.’

They laugh, and James thinks he handled it well, half-truth as it is; everyone knows they don’t get along, he and Evans, they never had, and yet…

The bottle spins again, and now Remus is struggling to say who was his first crush, but James is not listening, not really paying attention to the game. His lips are still tingling, that lingering taste of butterbeer on his mouth, and he can’t help but steal glances at Evans — next time, he thinks feverish, he will let his hands (that stayed reprovingly still ) touch her face, hold her closer. Next time he will kiss her neck, will hear her sigh into his lips.

He will know what to do next time, he promises, but Evans never once looks in his direction.

The bottle stops pointing at her and it’s James turns to ask.

‘Truth or dare, Evans?,’ he asks, his voice sounding nicer than he ever talked to her before, while his hand runs through his hair nervously. His smile is confident, because Evans has to share that urge too, right?

But Evans eyes him as if she’d rather look at anything else and her voice is nearly dismayed when she calls ‘Dare’.

James doesn’t hesitate. ‘I dare you to go out with me, Evans.’

People whistle, but Evans doesn’t look amused. ‘It’s against the rules involving others in a dare, Potter,’ she tells him, coldly, raising. ‘And I think I’m done with this stupid game.’

She leaves the Common Room, and Mary throws a confused look at James before following her friend. Sirius looks at James with a baffled expression.

‘You stayed with her for five minutes and decided to ask her out? What happened there?’

‘Nothing,’ James says at ease. ‘I just realized Evans isn’t so bad.’

It’s a simple way of putting it, but despite what Evans may think about him, James will keep his word; that kiss (his first kiss) will remain between them only.

#Jily #Jily fanfiction #canon compliant #mostly #first kiss #James and Lily #t: fanfiction #prompt kiss

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ivyaugustetc · 3 years

Text

the dead poets at hogwarts: a headcanon from hell

@aedan-mills @charlie-dalton-simp @pretentious-strikes YOU ENCOURAGED THIS BEHAVIOR SO YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO LIVE WITH THE CONSEQUENCES. also i love you a lot but THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT.

also @aedan-mills i found out that some of the wand stuff is related to their birthdays and i am much too lazy to look all that up and figure it all out, but anyone else is welcome to lmao. sorry to disappoint but alas it's summer and i don't want to research that much. but other than that, please listen to me flex my extensive knowledge on harry potter :)

neil (half blood): i'm sorry,,,, can you say gryffindor? this boy would get up there and in a second the sorting hat would have him all figured out: big dreams with the will to pursue them, but not ambitious enough to step over others to achieve said dreams? sounds like a gryffindor to me. i just know he'd thrive at hogwarts, probably going on to play quidditch (def a chaser) and would excel in charms class. as far as pets go, i feel like he'd stay simple and classy with a chill barn owl he'd name after a famous broadway actor. he would kind of be a mix of james and remus, in which he's wild and crazy but still manages to get good grades. the teachers love him simply because they don't know much about him outside of class. he would absolutely LOVE going to hogsmeade and going batshit crazy at zonko's and honeydukes. he'd have a whole phase where he gets addicted to licorice wands and everyone else thinks they're disgusting but he simply cannot buy enough of them. he'd play a bunch of zonko tricks on the rest of the poets, saving the most harsh for charlie and the most wholesome for todd <3

todd (muggle born): ugh see i can see him being both a hufflepuff and a ravenclaw, but my heart says hufflepuff so i'm gonna go with that. he would absolutely HATE the sorting ceremony with a burning passion. getting up in front of everybody only to have a hat judge u??? no thanks. HAHAHA CAN YOU IMAGINE HIM ON A BROOM. i can't either because he would simply never get on one, probably referring to them as "flying death traps" more often than not. "hey todd, you think about joining quidditch?" "no thanks, i'd rather keep my limbs intact ;)". but he would love muggle studies a lot, even if the teacher was boring as hell. snape would scare the hell out of him for sure, resulting in his lowest class being potions. he would excel in classes that are more learning out of the book rather than in practice. for a pet, he'd want something that could not possibly turn on him and would just be sweet and loving, so ima give him a toad :) he'd name it something fancy and british, like nigel or sumn. and because of nigel, he'd love chocolate frogs because hey they're twins!!

fanon knox (pure blood): hogwarts fuck boy. okay well maybe not f boy but like...his favorite part is the fact that this is a co-ed school rather than an all-boys school so he can spy on both genders equally yknow. hmm i get hufflepuff vibes from him because he's a big romantic, sucker for cute relationships, etc. he would enjoy whichever class his current crush is in, although I feel like he'd do well with classes that involved spells and wand work mostly lmao. he'd want a really fucking cute pet, so i'd give him a kneazle (it's like a cat but a bit more lion like). he'd give it a strong sounding name, something german idk. but he'd love the shit out of that kneazle, i can tell you that much. i feel like he'd try out for quidditch his first few years, not make it on, and then make it on to the team around fourth year and somehow end up team captain in seventh (and that proves kids, that you too can have a redemption arc in sports). as far as candy goes, ima say he likes the super sour candy like acid pops n shit. like i feel like the others would dare him to each as much sour candy as he can and then he wouldn't be able to taste for a week. but he'd think it was worth it :)

cameron (muggle born): good god this boy just wants to learn. magic just fascinates him, what with growing up in a big muggle family (bestie he is the weasleys if they were all type a). he's a ravenclaw, no questions asked. he would love classes involving preciseness and attention, things like potions and transfiguration. i feel like he'd have a cute, stable relationship along the way ofc because he deserves so much love and happiness and UGH he's a baby. he'd stick with a lil ginger cat, naming it after one of the famous wizards he's read about. he would love spending christmas at the school and going places when the ground are nearly empty, enjoying the scenery. for candy, he'd go plain and simple with chocolate frogs. can't go wrong with those. he'd still have fun with his friends, but he'd skip a lot of parties for some studying (don't judge, i do it too lmao). would not play quidditch but would enjoy it, end of story.

charlie (pure blood): slytherin. don't dispute it. think the weasley twins but even more flirtatious. he would be a regular at every single party that happened, flirting with the guys and gals shamelessly and drinking butterbeer like it was water. look me in the eye and tell me he would not absolutely fucking HATE GILDEROY LOCKHART WITH EVER FIBER OF HIS BEING. he'd do spot-on impersonations of him though. teacher's worst enemy. like when he walks into class on the first day, every teacher collectively mutters "bloody hell not this kid again". asks the most incredibly stupid questions ("okay but is there a spell to turn my eyebrows green? just the eyebrows though, not my hair"). he would be the most aggressive beater on the slytherin team, though he would never deliberately try to hit someone, just distract the shit out of them ("put the fear of god in them and fate will do the rest"). he'd want a loud, aggressive pet but he'd probably end up with a mean cat that hisses at everyone. he'd give it the most adorable name that just. does not fit the personality. something like priscilla. for candy, he'd take his chance with bertie botts' every flavour beans and just roll with the punches. he's chaotic like that.

pitts (half blood): ASTRONOMY IS HIS JAM. he fucking loves that class. he tutors the entire ravenclaw house in that class. he's the guy that little first years who are terrified of the class go to when they're completely lost and don't understand what's going on. besides that, i feel like he'd just be everyone's cool older brother yknow? like he'd be in charge of helping all the first years figure out where stuff is and giving them advice to help them and stuff. he would be a die-hard quidditch fan although he would not play the sport (maybe recreationally on the weekends and holidays and stuff, but the fact that it's so fucking dangerous just does not appeal to him). he'd like the candy that does tricks and stuff, like fizzing whizbees and stuff. he gives me charlie weasley vibes, where he's hardcore in certain areas (in his case, astronomy) and just flipping chill in anything else. cool older brother vibes, man. it fits.

meeks (half blood): i've said it once and i'll say it again: nonproblematic ginger dumbledore. also a hufflepuff <3 this dude just wants to fucking coast along, getting good grades and not participating in the dumb shit that could probably get him killed (even though he would in a heartbeat if his friends were in danger. duh). he'd be a teacher's favorite, probably having conversations with his favorite teachers during free time. okay ik this isn't technically at school, but i swear to god he would be dumbledore one day. like he would be the chill ass headmaster who gets shit done while also being very la di da life is nice flowers are pretty type of person. that being said, his favorite candy is and has been lemon drops ever since dumbledore got him addicted to them. his favorite classes would be potions (he'd surprisingly get along well with snape) and he'd just be great and mixing shit right and just knowing how much of stuff to add in ("how much powdered root do i add?" "about three and a half shakes." "that's not a measurement, meeks." "*shrug* it works"). he'd stick with his small friend group and love them to death, but he'd be a friend to all really. he'll help anyone that comes to him asking for help with homework (and though he won't admit it, he gets super prideful when it's someone a few years ahead of him).

stick (muggle born): harry potter if harry potter could've been more harry potter. like he would just be a part of everything and end up being part of some prophecy that demands he'd save the world and at first he'd be like HEY i'm just a small boy but then he'd grit his teeth and finesse the shit out of this preventing the end of days stuff. he'd definitely be a gryffindor, and fucking proud of it. he'd be the seeker on the quidditch team because he is so short and small and yeah he'd fucking kill it there. he'd kind of be the shy one no one expected much from, but once he starts absolutely wrecking the shit out of the other houses' quidditch teams, he'd become sorta popular? like people would invite him to parties and stuff and he's too nice to say no, but he'd mostly just hang around the outskirts, saying hi to the other poets if he saw them and mostly talking to chris and ginny (danburry, not weasley). he'd like defense against the dark arts and minerva mcgongiall would become his literal mother i can't explain it. he'd have an owl as a pet and treat it like it was his own child, telling it thank you every time it brought his mail or took his mail. as for candy, he'd like drooble's bubble gum because the bubbles are all magic and shit and i just feel like that would make him so happy <3

chris (pure blood): the older sister lesbian <3 she'd be a sweet hufflepuff who would be friends with everyone while also being the greatest socialite the school has ever seen. you know that party that practically the entire school attended and talked about for months on end? she planned that shit. she'd be like pitts in the respect that she'd help all the first years find their way in the school and in life in general. she's just such a warm and kind person that everyone would love her. she's have a little pink pygmy puff to match ginny's purple one, and she'd give it such a perfect, human name like lila or something. she'd be great at muggle studies and all the teachers would love her. also every one is so invested in her relationship with ginny it's adorable. he favorite candy is acid pops even though they make her eyes water like crazy. she'd make pretty good grades, every once in a while getting one slightly lower than she'd expected, but she always manages to bring them up to her satisfactory level :) she would not play quidditch, but she would go all out to support ginny, even though they're in different houses. that's what i call love, baby.

ginny (half blood): the mom lesbian <3 she's a ravenclaw and also one of the sweetest people in the whole school. while chris helps other with the social aspect, ginny will help anyone in any subject they need help with (she and meeks are a help duo on this). she's quieter and less social than chris, but she's one of the best chasers the ravenclaw quidditch team has ever seen. she'd end up team captain by fifth of sixth year. she'd be like oliver wood in that she is sO invested in the team's success that at sometimes she'll go a bit crazy, but chris is always there to help her put things back into perspective <3. she'd make stellar grades of course, being good friends with all of her teachers. her favorite candy would be the sweetest things like fairy floss. as previously stated, she'd have a purple pygmy puff to match chris's pink one, and she'd also give it an adorable human name like lisa or something. ginny's just sweet to everyone, especially neil and his friends.

I DID IT. IT TOOK FOREVER AND A FEW HAIL MARYS BUT I DID IT. enjoy besties <3 love u all

#dead poets society #dead poets society headcannons #todd anderson #neil perry #gerard pitts #charlie dalton #nuwanda #knox overstreet #steven meeks #stephen meeks #richard cameron #james stuchelli #ginny danburry #chris noel

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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Omg thank you so much for writing my request for tom :) Can I ask for a part two where you try not to read the comments, but end up doing so, and most are good, so it's fine. Until you post a picture of you on your account, and tom's fans start calling you names, and tom's so tired of all that happening that he posts on his account a whole paragraph about how his personal life it's no one's business?

Posted

This is part two, find the first part here

Summary | previously Tom had accidentally posted a picture of the two of you, exposing your relationship. And so, you decide to purposely do the same on your Instagram, though the response is much different than what his post had received.

Warnings | hate comments, some angst, swear and demeaning words

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Tom was asleep beside you, his head tucked into the crook of your neck, you were able to feel his gentle, slumbering breathing against your skin, and it caused goose bumps to prickle upon the outer layer of your flesh.

The two of you had vastly fallen asleep upon the couch, and your phone was on the coffee table, and to say that you were itchy to reach for it was an understatement. There would be comments on the picture that Tom accidentally put online, and you were hungry to see them, whilst simultaneously nervous.

Tom was a big actor, known for his presence in the marvel cinematic universe upon many other projects, and some of his fans, whilst proven during Comic-Con panels, were borderline crazy. They’d snap if they even so much as saw something that they didn’t like, and this time, you would be on the receiving end of it.

Being motionlessly captured, with your face on show, was certain to bring much attention. You too were within the acting department, but there had been no correlation between the pair of you until now, most of the world weren’t even aware that you knew each other. And not to mention, your span of reaching an audience was smaller, although, certainly not non existent.

You had reprised fame during your appearance on Modern Family, as the friendly neighbour of Phil and Claire, and a classmate of their eldest daughter, and not to mention Luke was crushing hard on the character you played, though, with that said, your character laughed his efforts off due to the age difference, yet still found his pining weird and often uncomfortable.

Another role that you were becoming known for was your character in Netflix’s Irregulars, where you met Harrison Osterfield, Tom’s best friend. Through filming the show, you were introduced to the Spider-Man actor, and the pair of you had hit it off almost instantly, if you didn’t include Tom keeping his amorous distance, wary just in case there was something going on between you and your mutual friend. To his relief, there wasn’t.

And thus, when he received that confirmation, he was far more forward, yet respectful at the same time with his intentions. That was how you had ended up here, as he half used you as a pillow, his arms wrapped around his ribs, and his soft peaceful snores filling the void in the air.

Stretching your arm at its furthest length, your fingertips wrestled with the side of your phone, padding it closer to yourself, so that you could slide it across the small living room table, and closer to yourself. You were victorious in your efforts, and so on you unlocked your screen, going to your camera app, and leaning sideways so that you could snap a few pictures of your predicament with your loving and sweet boyfriend.

Looking at the images that you had captured, a smile arose upon your face; you truly did love this man, and you wanted the whole world to know how much you adored him. You wanted them to see that you cared about him, and that he was in good hands with you, to cool off any of his fans that were processing their hurt feelings for seeing Tom with another woman, show him that he was getting the love that he deserved.

Extreme courage coursed through your veins, focusing within your fingertips as you opened insta, gulping as you readied to post the image. There was no editing required, it was perfect just like him. And so, the caption was something to think about, you didn’t want to make it too obvious that you were dating as the online community already assumed, the priority was to show them that you cared about him.

‘He’s taking a nap, and crushing my hip a little, but I don’t mind 😌’ you typed, your finger hovering over the post button as you chewed your lip. It was easy to press your digit down, and so, taking a breath, you did just that, encouraged by the previous and kind comments on Tom’s earlier post.

Within a matter of minutes, your phone was blowing up, and you were too tempted not to glance at the growing comment section. There were various accounts, some supporting your confidence to show such a domestic version of yourself with Tom, you assumed that they were your followers, and the ones that weren’t so light hearted were those that intently watched anything on the media that involved Tom.

‘He’s too good looking for her, she should be dating someone within her league. Tom is clearly taking pity on this hoe.’

‘Aw look at him, and ew, look at the state of her. He could do sm better 😔’

‘Why doesn’t she look like his exes, they were hot af, and now he’s with some rando that is after his fame and money. Maybe she should just take better roles if she wants to get noticed so bad.’

Your eyes kept reeling through the intentionally hateful words that continued to come through beneath the image. Tears began to fall from your eyes as you tried to stifle the movements and the sound of your gentle sobbing, as to not wake Tom. Quickly, your fingers raced through the social media, and you, knowing that there would still be presence of the image somewhere online, you deleted it, muting notifications and shuffled back into Tom.

The man stirred, tugging you closer by your waist, pressing a kiss to your locks as he awoke. He noticed however the way that you refused to face him, and so he rolled you over with a gentle grip on your shoulder, frowning when he saw the recognisable redness beneath your eyes, and the sad expression floating within your eyes.

“Princess, what’s going on?” He wiped his thumb beneath your bottom lashes, collecting your tears as he worriedly looked down at you. His brown eyes searched every inch of your face for an idea, but found nothing but your broken hearted expression.

“It’s nothing Tommy.” You tried and failed to convince the man, wincing half heartedly as he sat back on his thighs, gripping your hips so that he could pull you up with him, giving him a clearer view of your face. It was clear that he did not believe you, and he hummed, trying to make you give in. Eventually, after much concerned staring, you gave in, slumping your shoulders as you tucked your arms around the back of his neck. “I posted a picture of us, the response wasn’t great.”

Instantly, Tom’s brows uplifted, surprised by your action, though he had a strong inkling of a feeling that the reaction that you had earned was not complimentary. These were not tears of joy, instead they were stricken rivers of anguish and insecurity running down the length of your face.

“Let me see.” He spoke, softly to you, but his intents towards defending you strong. You shook your head lightly, tracing circles upon his knees as you gulped, flickering your guilty gaze up to his watchful eyes.

“I deleted it. I just couldn’t deal with knowing that the longer that it was up, the more hate would be directed at me. I’m sorry.” Tom grasped your face by your tense jaw, his fingers stroking your chin as he sadly stared at you.

“Never be sorry. Now send me the picture you used so that I can give everyone a piece of my mind.” Reaching for your phone, you sent the image to him, and in a second his device pinged, revealing that it had successfully sent to him.

“Cute.” He described the picture, his hands furiously typing away on his phone, his constant unsettling of his rabidly moving fingers drawing anxiousness from you. “And some.” Tom finally breathed, closing his phone as you went to his account, checking what he had posted publicly.

‘This may concern some people, who keep sticking their noses in where it does not involve them. I appreciate you all, the support, the love, everything. But one thing that I do not stand for is people coming at my girlfriend just because they don’t approve of our relationship. If you check mate, I never asked for your opinion, I love y/n, and some online hate, that needs to stop otherwise you are not someone I want to be calling themselves a fan of me, needs to stop. It makes no one happy or feel healthy with spreading such toxicity around the internet, if you don’t like something, then keep your blood mouths shut, this has nothing to do with you, it is just me and my girlfriend. I’d think you’d want me to be happy, because I want the same for all of you, so can people please give my partner some respect, she’s done nothing wrong but bravely chose to reach out to you all, and she had that spat back in her face. It’s not on, and I want this to stop now.’

“Tom...” you were shocked by the paragraph, it came across as aggressive, and very over protective. His action, that could affect how he was cried by people that put him on a pedestal, and that made you feel guilty that he had reached out to them in such a way.

“It’s okay baby, I’d do anything for you, and you know that. No one messes with my girl.” He put his arm around your shoulders as he pulled you close placing a kiss upon your forehead. Not only was he your boyfriend, but he was your protector, your knight on a shining cell phone.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland reader insert #tom x reader #tom imagine #marvel actors x reader #mcu actors x reader #imagines #imagine #xreader

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jenomark · 4 years

Text

➔Pairing: Haechan x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Fluff ➔Warnings: Angst | Mentions of death | Cursing ➔Word count: 6,865

➔Summary: He was always yours, even before you wrote a book about him, even before he disappeared from your life after high school, and even before he broke his promise.

➔Request: can I request a drabble of haechan friends to lovers? 🥺

➔ I hope you don’t mind that I turned this into a longer story that is more on the fluff side. I felt really inspired to do so. Thanks for sending in the request! 💚

You

You hated school. Not because you weren’t serious about your studies. You liked the subjects well enough. You liked eating lunch at a table, a little package of apple slices, and a chocolate milk that always tasted like the carton it was in. You liked hanging up your coat in the coat closet, little rain droplets dripping on the wooden floor when the weather was bad. You liked your teachers and how they would encourage your love of reading. You liked all the things to like except one: school hours meant time away from him.

Him. He pulled your hair sometimes when he was bored. You cried once, your mother saying something sexist about how he must like you. Your father never paid attention, just kept watching the television. You wondered if all boys were that stupid. He also made fun of the way your nose would wiggle when you talked. He had a smart comment for everything. He thought he was smarter than you, even. There weren't many nice things to say right off the top of your head, but you loved him anyway.

During the school year, the school hours especially, you never talked to him. He was off parading around with his squad of friends, each one more pigheaded than the last. They’d act like they didn’t care about school in the schoolyard, but all of them got decent grades. Sometimes they would pick on others boys, the principal telling others that that’s just what boys did. Sometimes he would raise his hand in class and answer the right question, and even though you sat next to each other in class, he’d never look at you.

Your school life was a little different. You were off spending time hovering by doorways, wishing the days would end until you could see him again. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, a question of whether you truly knew him or not always on your tongue. You didn’t spend time pretending other people were your friends, because your best friend had always been him.

After school felt like a different time zone. Neither of you took your time with homework. You would rush, a telltale sign being poorly erased letters and crumpled papers shoved into bookbags. Usually, he would walk to your house and meet you in the tent in the backyard, talking long before he reached the entrance. He always talked about his day as if you weren’t in it. He liked to talk a lot.

“I don’t want to hear it.” you would say. “I don’t know why you’re friends with those people.”

You were both at an age where you were figuring stuff out. You fought a lot, with him storming out of your backyard tent and walking home, and you resisting the urge to follow him. There was always a phone call from his concerned mother, eased by your own mother reassuring her that you’d both work out your differences soon. You’d been best friends since you were even younger, clinging to each other only when other people weren’t looking. It was too late to make a clean break.

Summers were your favorite because you had him all to yourself. At that age, you weren’t aware that keeping him was holding him back from other things. You were all too happy to lounge on a beach with him, watching him get stuck in the sand and laughing at him until your stomach hurt. To you, it was the purest form of love.

Time made things weird, as it does. The summers you used to love started fading out. He no longer came on family trips. Instead, he went to summer camps with other thirteen-year-old boys. He would come back boasting about being taught to shave his face by the older kids, and then he would show you his new skills. Even though you were disinterested, you always watched him intensely, thinking that if he let you in to this one valuable piece of information, he would open the door to the rest. He never did.

Gradually, after-school hangouts were taken away from you, too. Your father’s only contribution to any conversation was to say that your best friend would be more interested in girls now. Even as your parents left you alone, the words of “But I’m a girl!” leaving your lips until the last light was shut off, you never really understood what it meant. In fact, it wasn’t until he flirted with someone else in front of your face that you got the hint. You were a girl, but he never thought of you that way. And he would rather spend his time after school walking to someone else’s house.

None of that was as bad as high school was. Up until then, you’d been clutching at straws to make the friendship what it once was. You made the tent bigger to accommodate his growing frame. You offered to pay for movies if he’d come alone, and you would even sit through the boring ones just for him. On the rare chance that you’d guilt trip him into staying a little longer with you, it was enough to keep you enduring. When high school truly hit, the studying took up most of your time. The scraps that were left were spent having family time, or visiting schools your mother wanted you to attend after high school.

Though he no longer ignored you in school, things had gotten harder. He was dating often, sweeping girls off their feet with his wild, charming sense of humor. It was hard for them not to get jealous of you. Though you weren’t around much, the bond you both shared was obvious to everyone who watched the pair of you together. He never really wanted to choose between his childhood best friend and someone he was seeing, but the choice was always very apparent to you.

“Maybe you should date, too,” he had said.

You shut it down quickly, appalled that he would even suggest a thing. When you realized your dismissal must have hurt his feelings, you backtracked.

“Do you have anyone in mind?” you asked.

His smile made you feel like you were on top of the world. Of course he had someone to introduce to you. Thus, the double date was born. You could tag along with him and his girlfriend, with a friend of his you eventually started dating. It wasn’t the most ideal situation, but it had rekindled something in your friendship you didn’t know you’d been missing.

He had even come around to your house more. You came home from a study group one time to see him in your childhood tent, his long legs sticking out of it. He bent his body forward, holding up a bag of snacks you recognized.

“You still sit in here?” he asked.

You sat down next to him, the plastic of the tent hitting you in the forehead. “When I need to think.”

“You have a brain?”

“Funny.” you said. “Why are you here?”

He got a far away look in his eyes, like he did whenever he was truly going to say something stupid. There were times he spoke philosophically, because deep down, he was never the stupid little boy you said he was.

“Life is moving too fast,” he said. “Remember when we were kids and it moved so slow? I would suffer waiting for summer.”

“I remember it vividly.” you said. “Are you feeling nostalgic?”

He ate some of the snacks, offering you some. When you didn’t take it, he pulled on your hair a little bit. It pulled you to wherever he was at, back in time to when things felt much easier than they were. High school was ending, and you were all walking down different paths, none of them leading back to this tent.

“I want you to promise me something.” he said. “After high school, I want us to always be best friends. This last year has made me realize how much I missed you.”

You wanted to tell him how much you missed him, to take his hand and hold it in yours. There was something in you that couldn’t do it. You just kept chewing, waiting for him to keep talking.

“Let’s promise to call each other at least once a day when we’re adults.” he said, getting this excited look in his eyes. He felt more like the real Haechan right then than he ever had in the past five years.

“Promise.” you said, holding out your pinky and getting ready to kiss your thumb.

Haechan linked his pinky with yours, his thumb connecting to your thumb. You leaned down to kiss it at the same time, your faces coming closer to each other than they had in a long time.

Sadly, after high school, the promise was never kept. The image of him walking away from your backyard was the last time you saw him in any place you called home.

~♡~

You held the phone away from your ear because it was too hot. In your other hand, you held a cold, strawberry smoothie, the condensation dripping down your fingers. The sidewalks were busy, so it was tricky trying to weave in and out of the people, all while holding an unfinished manuscript for the next book you were writing. Years of dodging kids in school hallways made you a pro. As you were about to collide with a delivery man, you spun around gracefully and avoided disaster. After taking a sip of smoothie, you brought the phone closer to your ear.

“Do people still do book signings for physical copies?” you asked. “I thought everything was about selfies now. I definitely don’t look good with the flash on.”

“Of course.” your agent told you over the phone. “I don’t think anyone over the age of existence does. How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.” you said.

Your agent on the other end sighed. “You’re too young to be worried about any of this. I’ll book you for the signing and people will come, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You wanted to rattle off all the reasons you were freaking out over it, but you were in public. You took another sip of smoothie and looked at the manuscript tucked against your body. Twenty-four and published, with your book rising in the charts, and a second book underway. You shouldn’t be so scared to have human interactions with strangers who enjoy your work, and yet...

“Okay.” you said, closing your eyes for a moment.” Okay, you can do it. I don’t know why I get like this. Seriously, you’re the best.”

“I know. I know.” your agent said. “Take a bath and relax. Call me later.”

You hung up and threw your phone in the deep recesses of your bag. Your one hand was wet, and you didn’t want it touching the papers, so you tucked them deeper against your body and kept on walking.

~♡~

“A book signing. Can you believe it?” you said into the phone. There was no answer on the other end, not even a little static. You walked a little slower on the sidewalk, letting the outside world disappear from your vision. You took a deep breath. “I sold so many copies, mom. I know you would be proud of me.”

The message ended with a beep. You left the phone on your ear and stopped walking. You stood still, wondering if one day calling your mother and leaving messages on her old cell phone would eventually make you feel better. She died shortly after you graduated from high school, and the phone number was the only part of her still kept alive. You called it whenever you felt a little lost, or on days when you had exciting news to share.

Feeling a tightness in your chest, you turned off your phone and dropped it into your bag. You were almost home, but you felt like you weren’t ready to face your apartment again. You found it so funny that your professional life was so full and booked, but your personal life was so hollow and empty.

You turned away, thinking that you could retrace your steps and find yourself on a street with a cafe still open. You would gladly sit at that table and write, watching strangers living their lives, each one stuffed to the brim of character. Men that tried hitting on women who were disinterested, the click-clacking of their heels walking away from potential danger. Mothers with their children, each child holding a mushy, spit-covered ice cream cone. There was always someone who didn’t belong in the crowd, someone your eyes glossed over, and someone who brought up memories of someone you used to know. It was your favorite pastime: watching people who weren’t watching you. You smiled at the thought of getting to live those many lives, when you remembered that there was always a writing deadline to attend to.

Another time, you thought, before taking the remaining steps to your apartment and looking through the darkened glass front door. Maybe you would take up your agent's suggestion of taking a bath.

Feeling a little more jolly, you walked up the steps and let yourself in. You stopped to check your mailbox (empty), stopped to check your phone messages one last time (also empty), and lastly, checked your surroundings. When you were sure no one was around, you walked up the steps, feeling tired both mentally and physically. When you reached the top of the hallway, you stopped.

“Haechan.” you said, his name too quiet for him to hear.

Sitting outside your door, a hood over his head, sat the boy who used to pull on your ponytail. Only now, the figure in all-black clothes, a little 5 o’clock shadow on his face, the one that looked up at you like he didn’t recognize you, pulled at your heartstrings.

~♡~

You liked to remember Haechan often, especially considering the main character of your book was written with him in mind. Well, you changed his name in the book and made him a lot cooler, but the core of him was the same. Both men were the epicenter of your whole world, even though one of them had left years ago.

Looking at him sitting on your floor transported you back in time. Briefly, your mind tried to convince yourself that you were seeing a ghost from the past. But, when he got up from the floor, approaching you cautiously, and he paused for a second before reaching out his arms to hug you, your fingertips knew what your brain didn’t: he was real.

“Why are you here?” you blurted, pulling away from him, your body regretful that you had let him go.

“I don’t get a hello?” he asked.

You raised your eyebrows, the surprise on your face real. You were struggling with words, which annoyed you as a writer. All you could do was look at his face and how much it had changed over the last few years. He was a man now. He was a little taller, and the baby fat on his cheeks was gone. He still couldn’t dress right, and the old confidence faded, but he was still as handsome as ever. When he smiled to show that he was joking, you couldn’t stop looking at his teeth.

“How did you find out where I live?” you asked.

“Your dad.” he said.

Haechan didn’t so much as give his apologies for missing your mother’s funeral, and he had the good graces not to bring her up at all. You felt grateful, saving the pain of both things for another time.

“I don’t talk to him much anymore.” you said. “He only comes by to give me old things he thinks I want.”

Not knowing what to do with the piece of information, Haechan shoved his hands into his pockets. You hated how awkward it felt being in front of him. The silence outside of your apartment was magnified by your deep breathing.

“Are you here because of my book?” you asked.

Puzzled, Haechan blinked. “Book? I didn’t read your book.”

You adjusted your bag in your hands and thought of something to say. Before you could speak, Haechan motioned to the bag he brought sitting in front of your apartment door. You looked at it, the big black boulder holding no significance to you.

“I was actually just passing through town. I was wondering if you could let me stay a night.” he said.

Him

He said he hated the apples, even though they were his favorite fruit. He put them on your lunch tray when you weren’t looking, because if you’d seen him do it, you would have made a fuss. Then, he’d get up from your table and go back to wherever his other friends were, because that was what was expected of him. But his eyes always went back to your table to make sure you were eating well, and he would try his best to remember the way you’d smile when you looked down and saw what he had left behind.

He hated school. It was full of adults who tried to change him. Laugh a little less, they said. Don’t be a clown. Don’t make too much trouble. There was never any room for dreamers or troublemakers, never any kind of future for those who didn’t have plans by the time they were pulled from the womb. Behave and listen. Listen and learn, or we’ll call your parents. He had heard it all by the time he was thirteen, and he hated every bit of it.

Not you, though. You never tried to change him. You let him go on his way, even though he knew you felt like he was abandoning you. You were the only person he trusted most days, and in the tent in your backyard, he had felt most like himself.

“I don’t want to hear it.” you had said once. You were angry, he could see it in the way you tried not to say what you wanted to say. “I don’t know why you’re friends with those people.”

He hadn’t known, either. They liked the way he made them laugh, and he liked the attention they gave him. They were different, in the way that they didn’t remind him that friendships were temporary, that everyone you know might someday disappear. He was terrified of that, of the idea that good things didn’t last.

“Are you jealous?” he asked.

He wanted the words to sting. He knew you were jealous, and he knew you would never admit to it. He would have been jealous, too, if the roles were reversed. He wanted nothing more than for you to admit that you cared about him, that you loved him, or to rouse any kind of feeling in you at all. Those words spawned a fight that made it hard for either of you to bounce back from. He pulled and picked at you until you were deteriorating in front of his eyes. Choice words were said, and though the wounds healed as you both grew older, neither of you really forgot the beginning of the end.

Summer came and went, time never slowing down for anybody. The hatred burning in his heart subsided as he grew into himself more, though he never really learned how to savor the moments as they happened. He was always reaching for more, stuffing his greedy face full of anything that could keep him content.

His phone calls to you melted down to just one call per week. He didn’t stop by the tent as much, didn’t ask to catch up on homework. He was drifting through school, using the passage of time to measure the length of girls legs, and how they’d move in his direction any time he smiled.

“Maybe you should date, too,” he had said.

His bright idea didn’t rub off on you. You didn’t smile, didn’t look at him the excited way he looked at you. When you shut it down so quickly, he wondered if your rejection had something to do with him. He was trying really hard to keep your friendship alive, even catching up in the hallways before class to make sure you were taking care of yourself.

“Do you have anyone in mind?” you asked, a simple smile appearing and disappearing before he could blink.

Introducing you to one of his friends, in hindsight, wasn’t the best idea. He’d had better, but he could hardly take it back. You looked happy when his friend's attention was on you. You were radiant. And it was the perfect set-up. You both could double date and spend time together, just like the old days, even making both of your dates uncomfortable by how close of a bond you had together.

When the jealousy arrived in a perfect little handbasket, he was sure it was payback for treating you differently, as he was getting to know himself more. He burned whenever he saw you with the other boy, whenever you reached out for his hand, your lips quivering for a kiss. He would stay up late at night in a restless fit, his mind taking turns convincing himself that you were losing your virginity every waking moment.

“You’re spending a lot of time at my house.” you had said to him on more than one occasion.

“Do you mind?” he asked. “I can go home, if you want.”

“No.” you said quickly, your eyes sparkling.

He wanted to kiss you then. It was a fleeting , special moment, and it hovered in the air between you both from that moment forward. He thought maybe he was imagining it, but he had been close to many girls, and no one looked at him the way you did.

Sitting in your tent, his legs stretched out of it because he was too big, he thought back to every time you made his heart do backflips in his chest. Ever since you were small, he had feelings for you. In fact, his parents used to joke that the two of you would end up together one day, maybe have a wedding in the backyard, your inside jokes written into your vows.

Hearing leaves crunching underfoot, he sat up. “You still sit in this thing?” he asked.

You sat down next to him, the plastic of the tent hitting you in the forehead. “When I need to think.”

“You have a brain?”

“Funny.” you said. “Why are you here?”

He wasn’t sure why. He had been taking a walk and found himself there, his feet knowing exactly where to go. He had been thinking too hard about life after high school, and about what kind of man he wanted to be.

“Life is moving too fast,” he said. “Remember when we were kids and it moved so slow? I would suffer waiting for summer.”

“I remember it vividly.” you said. “Are you feeling nostalgic?”

He ate some of the snacks, offering you some. When you didn’t take it, he pulled on your hair a little bit. Getting you to eat properly was important to him. If he wasn’t around to remind you to take care of yourself, how would you survive the rest of life without him?

“I want you to promise me something.” he said. “After high school, I want us to always be best friends. This last year has made me realize how much I missed you.”

When he felt like he was going to cry, he shoved more food into his face. He was watching you out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he should continue. When you remained quiet, he began again.

“Promise.” you said, holding out your pinky and getting ready to kiss your thumb.

Haechan linked his pinky with yours, his thumb connecting to your thumb. You leaned down to kiss it at the same time, your faces coming closer to each other than they had in a long time. It would be so easy to seal the deal with a real kiss, one that had been years in the making. But he didn’t, and neither did you.

“I have to go.” he said, getting to his feet. “You’re going to keep your promise, right?”

“Have I ever broken a promise to you?” you asked.

~♡~

He was raised not to comment on the state of other people’s homes, good or not. Looking around yours, he wanted so badly to tell you how well you were doing for yourself, and how proud of you he was. He looked around, his fingers itching to touch the pretty ceramic birds on an end table, to run a fingertip on a dustless counter and hold it up to the light.

“You can put your bag down over here.” you said, motioning to a spot beside the couch. “My couch isn’t much, but it is comfortable.”

You were a little awkward, your eyes unable to connect with his. He could see your mind waiting to defend yourself against the little jabs old Haechan would have made about your space. When he didn’t, you didn’t let your shoulders relax. He moved further inside your apartment, and to your confusion, he said it was a nice place, and that he would be happy to sleep wherever.

Compared to your nerves, he was quite calm. He felt like he had walked into a time machine and transported himself into the backyard again. It was like nothing had changed at all. You still looked the same, with nicer clothes that looked more expensive than the average persons. It looked like you went to the hair salon to ask for an “adult” haircut, but your baby face made it hard to take you seriously.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Haechan shrugged. “Sure.”

When you didn’t ask if he was hungry, Haechan made himself comfortable on the couch. You sat on an opposite chair, folding your hands in your lap. You kept looking around the room nervously, as if you were scared to be alone with a stranger. It hurt him a little bit, but he was mature enough to let it slide.

“Thank you for letting me stay.” he said.

“It’s fine.”

Haechan sighed. “This is much harder than I thought it would be.”

“What is?” you asked, touching your fingers to your neck.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

You got up from your chair as if you’d been electrocuted. “I forgot I need to make a phone call. I will be right back. Don’t touch anything.”

Haechan watched you as you grabbed your bag and left the room. Never one to keep still, an old habit that never died, he got up and looked around. He came across the room you entered and saw that the door was ajar. He didn’t listen to the conversation, just grabbed little pieces of it regarding a book signing to take place the next day.

“So soon?” he heard you ask the person on the other end of the phone.

Haechan walked away, his attention set on the fireplace. On top of it sat a bunch of picture frames, one of which he was in. Haechan stared at it for a long time, his eyes tracing the outline of the little boy he used to be. In the picture, the two of you were hanging onto each other. You were maybe eight years old, ice cream running down your chin, and a blissful ignorance only a child can carry on your sweet face.

He didn’t know where things had gone wrong. The two of you should have been friends forever. It just made sense. He reached out to touch his fingers to the photo but reeled back when he saw your face in the reflection.

“My mother took that photo.” you said, appearing behind him.

He nodded. “I remember.”

The air was heavy. He wanted to apologize for not going to her funeral. He had been out of the country during that time, but he should have called you. He could have written a letter, he could have done anything else but ignore it.

“I was scared.” Haechan said, the words surprising himself.

You held up a hand, as if you didn’t want to talk about it, but Haechan continued, “I loved her, too.”

You turned your back and went into the kitchen. Quietly, Haechan followed. He wasn’t going to bring it up anymore. He sensed your sadness because it brewed in his chest, too. He sat on a stool as you got yourself a cup and poured cold water from a pitcher into it.

“How was your trip?” you asked, your voice shaky.” Are you still traveling?”

Since he left high school, Haechan felt aimless. He needed to explore the world in an attempt to further his education surrounding himself. He had traveled to many countries and met many people that changed him. Disappearing was never the plan, but it was addicting to not have phone calls, or to adhere to schedules.

“I’m seeing where it goes.” he said.

You took a sip of water and never stopped looking at him. When you were done, you placed it on the counter. “I guess I should ask the million dollar question.”

Haechan leaned back in his stool, “Hit me with what you got.”

“Why are you here?” you asked.

“I didn’t want to pay for a hotel.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not a liar.”

“Haechan, I’ve known you all my life.” you said. “Lying is your calling.”

“I wanted to see you.”

You inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.” he said. “I’ve never lied to you.”

The bitterness was morphing your face. He could tell you were thinking back to the promise, about how broken it had made you. After he left, he heard from his parents that you called his house often to ask where he had gone. You wrote him letters that were undelivered. You nearly followed him halfway across the world until your mother got sick.

“Okay.” he said. “It wasn’t a lie when I made that promise. I had every intention of being with you until we were old and wrinkly.”

“Please.” you said. “You knew what you were going to do before you did it. You booked the plane ticket two weeks in advance. You were with me at graduation. You kissed me.”

He remembered the kiss well. He had thought about it often on his travels, remembering the way your velvety lips felt, and how he never wanted to stop kissing you. The kiss made sense. It was the one thing time had every permission to slow down.

“I know.” he said.

He kissed you. You didn’t kiss him. He was happy about graduating. He was riding the high of the plane ticket, of the unknown waiting for him. He was scared it was the last chance he had to show you his feelings. When you kissed him back and it felt so good, he was then scared that he would never have the guts to leave.

You continued speaking, each word obliterating his thoughts, “ You want to think going away was just some spontaneous thrill, Haechan, but it fucking wasn’t. You could have told me it was what you wanted. I would have understood. You didn’t have to leave without saying goodbye. You didn’t have to-”

You couldn’t say the words, so he finished them for you. “-leave. I know. I’m sorry. This isn’t an excuse, but I...didn’t want to lose you.”

The words felt stupid as soon as he said them. You held your hand up to your head and said you had a headache. Haechan took the time to excuse himself and use the bathroom, locking himself away to figure out what he really thought was going to happen when he showed up at your door to get you back.

You

You collapsed onto your couch. The last hour felt like a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. You were older and more equipped to handle confrontation, but there was something about seeing Haechan that made you want to curl in your mother’s lap like a child. You bit down on your thumb and thought of the ways you could ask him to leave your private space. There was a hotel down the street that was relatively cheap.

You looked at the photo on the fireplace. The little boy staring back at you had no idea one day he would break your heart into a million pieces. He was still a little unsure of himself, his smile unknowingly gearing up to be mischievous in a few years time. You thought of the grown man in the bathroom, and how the years had passed, but he still felt the same. A part of you wanted to pinch his cheek and wrap your arms around him like you would when you were young. An even bigger part of you wanted to kiss him to see if the feelings still lingered, even though you already knew the answer to that.

Moving your foot, you accidentally nudged his backpack. You looked down at it. It was worn in places, with band buttons adorning the front. One of the zippers was open and the edge of something was sticking out. You looked at your closed bathroom door and back to the backpack before gathering up your courage and unzipping it slowly.

Digging your hand inside, you pulled out a corner of his underwear. With a quick “Ew”, you shoved it back inside. Your knuckle touched against something hard. You wrapped your hand around it and unearthed it to see that it was your book. You pulled it out even more and audibly gasped.

“You liar.” you whispered.

Hearing the toilet flush, you panicked and pulled the book all the way out and shoved it underneath your couch pillow. Quickly, you zipped his backpack and sat back, crossing one leg over the other. When Haechan came out, he hardly looked at you.

“Coming here was a bad idea,” he said. “I don’t know what I expected.”

You stood up. “Wait.”

Haechan didn’t hear you. He grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. You could see that his face was wet where he had thrown water on it. He didn’t make eye contact with you, just waved his hand and apologized for being an inconvenience.

“Leaving again?” you said.

Haechan stopped moving. He turned back. “I thought about you every day I was gone. Every day. And every day, my next thought was that I didn’t deserve you.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you said nothing at all. For a beat or two, you both stared, your eyes searching each other's. You could see every age of Haechan since you’d known him on his face, from the adorable child to the handsome adult.

You let Haechan leave this time. He closed the door with a soft click, his presence feeling like a fever dream. Mindlessly, you sat back down on your couch, and only remembered the book still laying there after some time.

You took your book and placed it on your lap. It was so worn that some of the pages were slipping out of the binding. You opened it carefully and flipped through the pages, the margins filled up with black pen ink. Haechan had written down his input on most pages with things like:

Am I really like this? There is no way this guy is cooler than me.

You know? You’re actually kind of funny.

Your mother was better than us all.

You closed the book with a snap and felt the tears falling. You put your head down and tried to feel everything all at once.

~♡~

Your agent walked next to you, her stride slowing to match yours. She didn’t outright say you looked like shit, though it was the truth. Your eyes were a little red, your cheeks were puffy, and you kept itching your neck all throughout the night until there were red scratch marks all on your skin.

She held open the door to the bookstore “Are you nervous?”

“Am I nervous?” you asked. “I’m shitting myself. I don’t think anyone is going to show up, but with my life, I’m pretty sure I can deal with the embarrassment.”

Your agent rattled on and on about how special you were to people. She dragged you throughout the two story bookstore, pulling you harder when you tried stalling. You mostly blocked out her words to save your sanity. You didn’t love when people tried buttering you up.

“Just over in this section.” she said. “It starts in twenty minutes, so don’t expect many people right away.”

When you both turned the corner, there was a sizable line leading up to a table stacked with new books. When the people saw you, they gawked. Some clapped, which made your face turn as hot as your neck.

“I can’t do this.” you whispered.

Your agent directed you to a chair, holding you down by your shoulders, so you wouldn’t run away. You took a sip of cold water sitting by your side.

“They’re all here for you.” she said. “Smile and try to be happy.”

“I’ll try.” you said, but when someone smiled at you in front of the line, you felt yourself returning a genuine smile.

Twenty minutes passed by faster than you wished. When the first person approached the table, you tried to remember your school teachers who believed in you. You recalled all the people who inspired your stories, making a mental bid to thank them for making the first signing so sweet.

“I really love how you write.” someone had said. Hearing those words made you feel touched. You tried your hardest not to tear up, signing your sloppy signature as best you could.

“Thank you.” you said, the gratitude you felt hopefully being translated well.

You signed for a long time, the line growing and growing as time passed. Some people came with their own dog-eared books, others with fresh copies. They asked what your upcoming book was about, which made you excited to finish writing it.

“There isn’t a set ending quite yet, but I’m writing like crazy!” you said.

You looked down at a book before you and smiled, your fingers touching the pages softly. You signed it and handed it back, giving the fan a smile that reached your eyes. When your eyes locked with his, you felt the world move. Staring back at you was Haechan.

“I would have given you my own copy to sign.” he said. “But I seem to have misplaced it.”

There was a knowing smile on his face that made you feel flushed all over. He took the signed book back and tucked it underneath his arm. Since yesterday, he looked freshly showered in a similar black t-shirt and jeans. His hair was carefully laid flat on his head like he cared what he looked like in public. He looked handsome, and his cheeks were definitely not puffy.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you read the book?” you asked.

“You and I both know I don’t make the best choices.” he said.

You smiled faintly. There was pain in the smile he returned. You wanted so badly to reach across the table and smooth away the lines on his forehead.

“I know this isn’t the best place.” he said, turning around to look at the line behind him. “But I came here to tell you the truth of why I was outside of your door yesterday.”

“Okay.” you said, your attention no longer on those people.

Haechan continued. “You see, I’m not traveling anymore. “

“You’re not?” you asked. “Then, what are you doing?”

“I’m coming home.”

You didn’t know what he expected of you, but he looked a little deflated when you held out your hand. He looked at the book under his arm and back at your hand, his smile unsure. He took the book out and placed it gently into the palm of your hand. You placed the book back onto the table and opened to the space where you had signed your name.

“I’m not going to ask for promises anymore.” you said. “I’ve always asked you for too much. For now, I would just like to tell you something.”

In the book, just below your name, you signed “I love you, Haechan.”

Before you could even close the book, Haechan came around the table and brought you into a big hug that certainly felt like home.

#haechan #donghyuck #lee donghyuck #lee haechan #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #haechan fluff #haechan fanfiction #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck fanfiction #nct haechan #nct fluff #nct fanfiction

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221bsunsettowers · 4 years

Text

In Which Eddie Finds Out About the Flaming Car Driven by a Dog, and the 126 Find Out About Buck and Eddie

Buck is completely confused by why T.K. and Marjan would think he was hitting on them. Eddie is not happy to learn Buck was almost hit by a car on fire. Hen cannot stop laughing. Some important things are cleared up for the 126.

Pure fluff with some worried Eddie after the fact. Set right after T.K. tells Buck he has a pretty serious boyfriend during the crossover episode.

Thanks to everyone for being so encouraging when I posted about this idea, you all inspired me to write this! I hope you enjoy!

Can also be read on Ao3

"I already have a boyfriend and it's pretty serious," TK says, making sure he smiles at Buck to take what (he thinks is) the sting out of the words.

Buck's facial expression is one of complete confusion as Eddie comes around the back of the truck and within Buck's view. Barely registering the pat TK gives him as he passes, Eddie immediately turns around to follow Buck as he in turn follows TK towards where the 126 has gathered to wait until they are officially dismissed.

"I meant as friends," Buck blurts out, shaking his head as the group stares at him. "I wasn't hitting on you, T.K." Hen, who has followed her friends, snorts loudly, doubling over with laughter as she pulls out her phone and hits record.

"I've got to get this for Chimney," she gasps out between laughs, swiveling the phone between a puzzled Buck, a frowning Eddie, and an apologetic T.K.

"Hey man, I'm sorry," T.K. says sincerely. "Usually my radar is way better than that."

"No, it's not that-" Buck starts, but Marjan has begun talking as well.

"Were you hitting on me then?" she asks bluntly, "because I noticed you staring, and you seemed pretty unhappy when Eddie went in the ATV with me."

"No, I definitely wasn't hitting on you!" Buck exclaims, rubbing his hands over his face. "This shouldn't be this hard." Hen is laughing so hard at this point she can barely breathe, immediately moving her phone to capture Eddie's glare and crossed arms.

Buck turns helplessly towrds her, gesturing wildly. "Hen, you were always saying how obvious it was!"

"It was, is, and forever will be!" Hen cackles, shaking her head in utter disbelief.

"I was staring at you because I've seen you on Instagram and you're a total badass!" Buck says to Marjan, throwing his hands up in the air before turning to T.K. "And you pushed me out of the way of a freaking flaming car, so-Shit." Growing quiet, Buck hangs his head, sighing loudly as Hen pats him with one hand on the back.

"Should have left that part out, Buckaroo," Hen says sympathetically, as Buck turns to Eddie, whose eyes are wide and terror stricken as he stares at Buck before quickly lunging forward.

"Baby, I'm fine," Buck insists as Eddie runs his hands up Buck's torso and arms, crouching down to check for injuries on Buck's legs before ending with his hands cradling Buck's face. "I promise. I didn't want to say anything because I'm fine and I knew you'd worry."

"Baby?" Mateo mouths, and Hen angles her phone for a wide shot.

"Does it help that a dog was driving?" Buck tries, and Eddie shakes his head, a soft smile spreading across his face.

"Only you, sweetheart, only you," Eddie sighs, resting his forehead against Buck's. "You promise me you're okay?"

"I'll let Hen check me out if it makes you feel better," Buck promises, interlacing his and Eddie's fingers, "but I am completely okay." Raising their hands, Eddie brushes his lips across Buck's ash-covered knuckles before leaning in to meet him for a deep kiss.

"This could go on for a while," Hen says with a teasing sigh, settling down next to the 126.

"So hitting on absolutely nobody then?" Judd asks with a laugh, and the laughter spreads through the 126, both T.K. and Marjan good naturedly shaking their heads.

"Definitely not," Buck assures them, his smile sincere as he and Eddie join the group.

"I mean, just look at the way they sit!" Hen exclaims, gesturing to where Eddie and Buck's sides are pressed tightly together from shoulder to thigh. "They've been like that since before they even admitted they loved each other. Think about dealing with that sexual tension for almost three years!"

"T.K. and Carlos are still in the honeymoon stage, and it is absolutely nauseating," Paul teases, and Hen nods sympathetically, T.K. rolling his eyes but unable to stop himself from grinning.

"Sorry man, we didn't mean to assume anything," T.K. says, and Buck shrugs, smiling as he reaches over for a fist bump. Before Buck can lean back again, T.K. is pointing at Buck's finger, letting out a laugh. "In my defense, gloves definitely cover that."

The rest of the 126 leans forward, and Marjan laughs too as Eddie extends his hand. "Agreed, I'm blaming the gloves," she adds. "Tattoo wedding rings are pretty ingenious, I have to say. No switching them out or taking them off during shifts."

"Exactly what we were thinking," Eddie says with a soft smile, lacing his and Buck's fingers back together. "Our son helped design them."

"I'm particularly partial to the three little stick figures holding hands," Buck grins, and then he and Eddie are bringing out their phones, the 126 exclaiming over the pictures of Christopher as Buck and Eddie trade off telling the stories behind each photo.

Hen simply smiles, sending the video to Chimney before rejoining the group, who can't stop laughing as Buck recounts the story of Eddie trying to scramble eggs, Eddie grinning even as he blushes.

@buddie-buddie @kit-aislinn @awkwardlonerkid @ordinaryxgirl @justsmilestuffhappens @chrrlees @starsinthepavement @agentsofwhat

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smellsfaintlyofvanilla · 3 years

Note

sorrry for being a pain! here’s some more eheh and thank you.

laugh quite a lot and i like to read, i’m quite bubbly but i don’t trust people very easily. relationship wise id like my independence and my love language is acts of service. altho i do quite like hugs and forehead kisses PDA-wise. i’d like to date someone who after a bad day we could both talk about it and like comfort each other but could also go a few days without seeing each other and conversation would still flow like nothing has happened. i have a large family so they need to be good with kiddos and dogs!

Don't worry about being a pain! I just needed a little more info, that's all haha

Also, I got really carried away with the drabble part... it's a little long whoops

Okay, anyway, hear me out, I match you with...

YELENA

-----

OKAY I'M SERIOUS HEAR ME OUT

At first impressions, things would probably be a bit rocky between you two

She found you frankly kind of annoying, and you found her too mysterious and stoic

BUT as time passed between the two of you, she found herself slowly enjoying your presence more and more

Because, although your cheerfulness and optimism seemed annoying to her at first, it ended up becoming a source of comfort for her

Whenever everything seemed to be going South, she'd always turn to you, and your unbothered smile

It lifted her up every time she saw it

But she wouldn't tell you this outright

She had a job to do, and a relationship would only interfere

So, surprisingly, it was you that had to confess to her

You weren't exactly sure what drew you to Yelena, but maybe it was the way her demeanor started to look less cold and apathetic, and more so confident and relaxed

So, with Onyankopon's reluctant help, you managed to get some alone time with her, and confessed your feelings to her over some warm tea and pastries you bought from a local bakery

She admitted, very casually, that the feelings were mutual

Somehow, throughout the whole thing, the most reaction you got out of her was a light pink tint on her cheeks

But, considering Yelena, that was a big step

Following the start of your relationship, your dynamic didn't change all that much at first

Things were kept mostly private while she eased into things a little bit

Not only did she have a steel reputation to maintain, but she had also never been in a relationship before. It was a new level of vulnerability for her

During this time, though, she'd worry about her abilities as your girlfriend

She wasn't exactly extremely affectionate, and scarcely had free time to spend with you

So you'd always reassure her, during your rare times alone, that you loved her, and she had nothing to worry about whenever she'd forego your time together in favor of working late hours into the night

And once her confidence in your relationship began to flourish, she was a lot more open about it to other people

It wasn't uncommon to see Yelena walking around holding your hand as she went to and from meetings, or to have her brush her hand soothingly across your thigh whenever said meetings got tense

She was still a bit more affectionate behind doors, but that was to be expected

She especially enjoyed the height difference between you two, bending down to wrap her arms around your waist and stand up straight, pulling you into a hug

And trust me, she'll melt if you wrap your legs around her and lean on her shoulder

It's one of those rare times you can see her blush

But, throughout your relationship, you notice just how quickly Yelena is at your hand and foot

Getting Yelena to do anything for others is a bit of a... challenge... but when it comes to you, she does it all without another word

She treats you like a queen, always preparing food/drinks when you need it, giving you massages when you feel tense, helping you with your paperwork to lift stress off of your shoulders, even when she has her own work to finish long after you've gone to sleep

She also gets very protective over you after a few months of dating. Honestly, sometimes, it borders on possessiveness

Her work is dangerous, and she hates to drag you into it, but it seems mostly unavoidable

So, she often tries to stick by you in tense situations, steering you away from danger

Whether that be encouraging you not to get involved with people she knows will backstab you, to physically getting in between you and harms way

She just needs to make sure that you stay safe, she wouldn't be able to live knowing she let something awful happen to you

She does respect your space, though, and leaves you to your devices often

And it makes her so proud to see just how amazing you are, both on the battlefield, and in meetings, pretty much anywhere

She admires how strong and capable you are in so many ways, she loves to see you flourish like that

Plus, I can totally see Yelena being a huge family person

Once the war ends, she'll start with something simple, like a dog

And so, you lead her to a dog shelter, expecting to walk out with a doberman or an English mastiff

Nope.

Instead, she ends up getting a tiny little chihuahua puppy, small enough to fit in her palm

The image almost makes you laugh, but the death glare she shoots you following her choice shuts you up right away

She'd name it Teacup or something

And god, she'd love that little dog to death

But even so, after years of living with you and the dog, she still felt a little lonely

So, she'd probably bring up the idea of adoption (since, of course, you're both women and can't just have a child)

Bonus points if Yelena has to dress up as a man to go to the adoption center because the employees were hesitant to let two women adopt

And that would lead you two to where you are now: a small little house in a big city, living within mere blocks of all your best friends, and your three adopted sons. And Teacup, of course

Yelena has no idea what she did in her life to deserve it all, but god, is she glad things worked out the way they did

-----

"Y/n?" A voice, unassuming to the unknowing ear, but easily recognizable to you, piped through the commotion. Soldiers and officers milled about left and right, chattering and laughing, filling the long hallway with loud echoes of banter.

You squeezed your way in between men in uniforms left and right, searching for the source of your voice. You didn't have to look far, though, since her impressive stature already stood her above almost everyone in sight.

Once you were in arms reach, Yelena reached out to intertwine your fingers in hers, filing through the crowd with much more ease than you had been granted, given her intimidating presence.

She pulled you down the hallway, further from where the soldiers had all gathered, and led you down to the hotel room you had shared for the time being. She whipped the keys out of her pocket, sliding them in and unlocking the door with a click.

You brought your hands to your head, rubbing small circles into your temple in an attempt to quell the dull ache already materializing.

"Geez, those guys are so noisy." You sighed, resigning to your headache as you collapsed on the sheets of the bed, tension leaving your body as the plush mattress engulfed you.

"It's unavoidable." She sighed, locking the door and stuffing her keys back into her front pocket.

A comfortable silence filled the space, Yelena shedding her suit jacket at the door and hanging it up on a nearby rack. You basked in the silence, the lack of chaos finally bringing you a moment of relief after nearly five days of non-stop obligations. A small smile formed on your lips as you felt your girlfriend gently drape a blanket over your still form, the warmth engulfing you immediately as she knelt down to remove your uncomfortably tight shoes from your feet.

The relaxed smile dissolved from your face almost immediately as a shrill ringing piped up in your ears, disturbing the silence. You were practically scowling by the time you opened your eyes, but they softened at the sight. It wasn't you, turns out, but a kettle of boiling water from the other side of the room. Yelena already had two cups laid out on the counter, and was digging through the cabinet containing all the teabags.

Your eyes fluttered shut once again, vision going black as you took in solely the sounds of the room. The piping quieted suddenly, replaced by the hollow sound of pouring water, then the clanging on the metal pot as Yelena sat it perhaps a little too carelessly back on the metal stove. If there had been any other noise, perhaps a thud of footsteps outside the door or a running air conditioner, you wouldn't have been able to pick up the quiet plop of Yelena dropping the teabags in, but it was surprisingly discernable through the quiet.

For the next few minutes, there wasn't much at all, save for the rhythmic taping of Yelena's foot, spurred by her rare moment of impatience. You could already feel sleep taking a hold of you, weeding the tenderness out of your muscles and numbing the pain in your head. Your breaths evened, preparing to drift into a short, sweet unconscious.

But, before sweet sweet sleep could engulf you, the old metal trashcan opened harshly, hitting the wall and startling you out of your tranquility. Yelena yawned, throwing out the teabags and bringing both steaming cups towards the bed.

She placed one on the nightstand, holding the other in her hand, steadying herself as to not spill the boiling water onto the sheets. Her large and slender hand found your back, rubbing up and down soothingly.

"How was the meeting?" She asked, taking a long sip from the cup.

"Tired..." You sigh into the sheets peeking your eyes open to gaze at your lover. She had her eyes transfixed on the steaming beverage in her hands.

"I figured it would be." She sighed, placing the cup onto the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. "They've been working you to the bone recently. I know you still have more work to do before the day is over, but I prepared you some chamomile tea with honey."

You resigned from your comfortable position on your stomach, sitting up the lean against the head of the bed as you took the cup to your side. You took a long sip, enjoying the taste of the tea, warm and soothing, and not too bitter due to the honey mixed in.

"I can't wait 'til tomorrow." You sigh. "It's my day off, for once. There was this new restaurant in town that I wanted to try. I heard it's good."

Yelena hummed in response, making a mental note to set up a reservation.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"What do you mean?"

"You don't need to take so many hours." She responded dully.

"But I want to." You sigh, setting the cup down to your side. It was still too hot. "Stuff needs to be done, someone has to do it."

Yelena frowned, bringing the cup back up to her lips to distract yourself. "You overwork yourself too much. Seriously."

"Maybe."

A silence filled the room once again. Not awkward, like you expect, just content. You knew you had very little time before there was more work to be done.

After an amount of minutes, maybe five, maybe twenty, a knock sounded on the door.

"L/n?" The voice traveled through the door. "Your meeting is in five minutes, are you ready."

You sighed, kicking the blankets off your legs. "Yeah, I'll be there." You pick up your suit jacket off the floor, pulling it over your shoulders. Just as you are about to leave, a hand grasps around your risk, tightening quickly and forbidding you from leaving.

You turn around and soften at Yelena as she sits at the edge of the bed. She tugs you closer, and you put your hands on her thighs to stabilize yourself as you lean in to plant a kiss to her lips.

"Good luck at your meeting." She says, running a thumb over your wrist. "I'll be right here waiting for you when it's over. I'll have something nice prepared for dinner." You smile and thank her, pulling away to kick your shoes back on.

You reach the door, grabbing the knob and twisting it.

"I love you..." She calls from behind you. Her voice is muffled slightly, and if you turned around now, you were sure that her back would be turned to you, probably already busying herself with paperwork.

"Love you too." You echo back, opening the door and slipping out, hurrying to the meeting room while you try to smoothen out your tussled hair and rub the tiredness from your eyes.

Yelena hears the door click, turning around to stare longingly at the cup of tea you left at your nightstand. She saunters over to pick it up, now cold, and bring it to the sink. You hadn't taken more than a few sips, it seems.

She sighs, placing the dish into the counter. "Seriously," She exhales, “what am I gonna do with you..."

-----

#yelena aot #yelena x reader #aot matchups #500milestone

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addictedtomanga · 4 years

Text

Shoujo manga recommendations - unrequited love

1. 360 Degrees Material

Taki is the cool yet strange guy in Mio's class. She bumps into him at the subway station after school and saves him after he almost gets pushed onto the tracks. The next day, he returns the favor by saving her from an incoming car. This marks the start of Mio's love.

2. Ai Kara Hajimaru

Sakura Ai has always loved sunflowers, as they appear like the sun, which incidentally also was the name of her first crush, Taiyou, in the 3rd grade. From since then, Ai has never had another love and has also become quite introverted, but after meeting a guy with the same name, somethings will begin to change…

3. Anta Nante Okotowari

Yui has a deep love for her "older brother" (they're not actually siblings, but are related), and she is devastated when he gets married. While at the wedding, Yui meets a sobbing boy, Kaoru. It turns out that his cousin (that he was in love with) is the one Yui's brother is marrying. When Yui moves into a boy's dorm so she can seek out new love, she finds that the head of the dorm is none other than Kaoru!

4. Ao Haru Ride

Yoshioka Futaba has a few reasons why she wants to "reset" her image and life as a new high-school student. Because she's cute and had a demure personality she was ostracized by her female friends in junior high, and because of a series of misunderstandings and mishaps, she couldn't get her feeling across to the one boy she has always liked, Tanaka Kou. Now in high school, she is determined to be as unladylike as possible so that her friends won't be jealous of her. While living her life this way contentedly, she meets Tanaka-kun again, but he now goes under the name of Mabuchi Kou. He tells her that he felt the same way as she did when they were younger, but that they cannot go back. Will Futaba be able to continue her love that never even started from three years ago?

5. Awayuki no Namida

Ritsuka, who likes to watch the snow as it falls, has an unrequited love for Fubuki, who lives with an older woman. Ritsuka and Fubuki fall in love, but Fubuki still has past debts toward the older woman, who was his dead brother's fiancee.

6. Bambi to Dhole

Yukimi is her real name but everyone calls her Bambi. She is the student discipline committee member who locks students out of the school if they're a minute late, but sneaks cigarette breaks on the roof. Lone wolf transfer student Tetsu Nagasawa hops the fence after she locks it and breaks her cigarette in half when he finds her on the roof, but he's a super nice guy to a mother and baby on the train. Bambi already has a boyfriend but will the wolf steal her heart?

7. Celeste Blue

Eishi is one of those popular guys that are smart, good looking, and is good at sports. However, he thinks people and "love" are bothersome and would rather not deal with either of them. When his teacher told him to help this girl, Uta, to study, he dreaded the idea of having to stick with such an annoying girl. Soon, though, his heart starts to lighten up towards her.

8. Datte, Kimi ga Warau kara

Let’s get into a time machine and return to that time. Where it was always fun and you were always laughing, to that time... "I only have three more months to live" Yui who just transferred to a new school in the countryside becomes Ryo’s classmate. Yui who is suffering from an illness has a "wish" that she can’t tell anyone, but Ryo wants to grant her that wish but… After death, reality hits Ryo and Yui. This is the story of the eternal promise that was made by the two of them.

9. Eien no Mae

Arisa has had a crush on classmate Nageki since the school festival, but has never spoken to him. Will she be able to strike up a conversation before they part ways at graduation?

10. Futari no Himitsu

Saijou Kiki is a model and child star and with the release of her new commercial her popularity skyrockets. At school, she harbors feelings for Takumi-kun... but somehow ends up kissing his friend Teppei?! And what's more, they've switched bodies due to some sort of old legend?!

11. Getsuyoubi Kara Kataomoi

Despite his one-sided love, a prince at school encouraged his crush to confess to her crush. But he also could not resist confessing to her. What will happen?

12. Hachimitsu ni Hatsukoi

Koharu and Nacchan are childhood friends which many of their friends thought they are a dating couple. Soon, after getting into senior high school, Koharu feels something different with Nacchan. While Koharu tries to figure out her feelings, Nacchan's already falling in love with someone else, the beautiful Saionji, but his love doesn't stop him from caring for Koharu. Does what Nacchan feel towards Saionji really be love? Why can't he let Koharu go on a blind date?

13. Hatsukoi Hakusho

A collection of one shots.

14. Hiren Trip

Miyu, an ordinary new first-year student who hopes to become a mangaka meets the schools’ class president who seems to have a hidden side to him. While being pushed around by the cool but private class president, the curtain on Miyu's stormy school life is raised.

15. Katakoi Triangle

Sekiya-san of the cultural library has an unrequited love for Yuuki-kun. The one who cares about Sekiya-san is the popular Kasai-kun, who is also Yuuki-kun's friend! And, what's this? Yuuki-kun is rooting for Kasai-kun?! It seems that everyone's feelings are one-sided... or are they?

16. Kimi ga Inakya Dame tte Itte

Nayu and Oumi are childhood friends. Without realizing it, Nayu finds she has fallen for Oumi over the years. However, just as she comes to terms with her feelings, Oumi reveals himself to be in love with the pretty Tsuzuki-san in his class. How will Nayu deal with such heartbreak?

17. Kimi o Omou Toki

What does it mean to love? Most of the time, I don't know... Falling in love with someone always ends up with a farewell. Encounters in which you can meet a kind man are very rare. For someone to tell me, "Momo-chan, I love you very much~ ♪" and to caress me with a smile... I don't understand the meaning of those things. Still, that kind of behavior gives me a warm feeling and makes my head spin.

18. Kimi to Kyun Koi, Shiyou

A collection of one shots.

19. Kobayashi ga Kawai Sugite Tsurai

The comedy starts when the cross-dressing begins! The Kobayashi twins, Mego and Mitsuru, were named after historical figures, but only Mego has grown up with a taste for history. So when Mitsuru is in danger of losing his weekends to extra history classes, he convinces his sister to swap clothes with him and ace his tests! After all, how hard can it be for them to play each other? But Mego can’t rely on just her book smarts in Mitsuru’s all-boys, delinquents’ paradise of a high school. And Mitsuru finds life as a high school girl to be much more complicated than he expected!

20. Koi dano Ai dano

After constantly transferring during middle school (Warau Kanoko-Sama), Naedoko has entered Takara No Tani High along with Tsubaki. Follow her adventures as she tries to restore the Newspaper Club's status without being noticed by the Broadcasting Club or Student Council...!

21. Koi ni Dokubari

Youthful, real love between a pure girl x sharp-tongued boy. ‘The boy I’ve had a long unrequited love for has found himself a girlfriend. On top of that, she’s my best friend. Even though I’m the one who met him and fell in love with him first. Why did he not choose me…?’ Heart-broken Aya meets Ryuu, an unpredictable, older boy. Aya gradually begins to be drawn to this sharp-tongued, but kind Ryuu. However, this love isn’t straightforward at all. “When you fall in love, you can’t keep being a ‘kind, good girl’.” Ryuu’s words pierce her heart, doesn’t disappear and is painful, but…?

22. Last Game

Yanagi is rich, smart, a girl-magnet, and always at the top of his class... well, until Kujou transferred in his primary school. She was quiet, plain, and poor, yet not once has she failed at beating Yanagi, both in academics and sports! Yanagi has made it his life goal to defeat her and thus, followed her from elementary until college over the past 10 years. Only when he decides to change the rules might he finally win. Here comes their last game!

23. Love so Life

Shiharu is a high-school student who loves kids, lives in an orphanage, and works at a daycare... Until the handsome uncle of two-year-old twins offers her a raise if she'll be their babysitter. Often relying on memories of her mother's actions for guidance, Shiharu quickly finds herself falling in love with her new makeshift family.

24. Mako to Aki-chan no Koigokoro

A collection of one shots.

25. Metallic Colors

The story of a stylish and gaudy girl who strives to win the heart of the boy she likes.

26. Nonchan to Watashi

Risa and Takumi are childhood friends, but due to a fight in the past, they stopped talking to each other. Now university students, Takumi is a famous playboy who goes out with a different girl every day, and Risa still regrets not having been able to apologize for what she did six years ago...

27. Orange

In the Spring she was 16, Takamiya Naho receives a strange, but detailed letter from herself, ten years in the future. At first she thinks the letter is a prank, but then the things written in the letter actually happen, including the new transfer student that sits next to her in class, Naruse Kakeru. The letter reads just like her diary entries, down to the same characters. It is not till two weeks later, when Kakeru shows back up at school, that Naho finishes the letter. In the letter, her 27-year-old self tells her 16-year-old self that her biggest regret is that Kakeru is no longer with them in the future, and asks her to watch him closely.

28. Propose no Okite

A high school girl becomes a wife?! And her husband is the worst man? Because she had to pay her family’s debt, she married! The husband is the son of a big Hotel company. The first time she saw him she said "You got a wife thanks to your money! You’re the worst!" "I maybe the worst", he said "but you’ll have to live all your life by my side…"

29. Saboten no Himitsu

Miku Yamada has a longtime crush on classmate Kyohei Fujioka. But no matter how many times she tries to show him how she feels, clueless Kyohei just doesn't get it. Frustrated, Miku gives up on him, only to have him start calling her "Cactus" for being prickly when he's around. Will Kyohei ever figure out Cactus's secret?

30. Shitsuren Biyoushitsu

A collection of one shots.

31. SP x Baby

A romantic comedy about a privileged man and his kickass female bodyguard. Tamaki Hasegawa misses an interview for a much-needed job in order to stop an assault on a man running for his life! The man—Kagetora Sugo, the prime minister’s nephew—then asks Tamaki to become his bodyguard. Tamaki isn’t sure she’s cut out to be a bodyguard, but Kagetora has another reason for wanting to hire her. Unbeknownst to her, they’ve met before…

32. Special A

Her whole life, Hikari Hanazono has been consumed with the desire to win against her school rival, Kei Takishima--at anything. He always comes out on top no matter what he does, and Hikari is determined to do whatever it takes to beat this guy!

33. Suki desu Suzuki-kun

Suzuki Hikaru, Hoshino Sayaka, Ito Chihiro and Suzuki Shinobu are all new students who have just entered the same middle school. Sayaka is a shy girl who secretly loves acting. Hikaru is an energetic boy who loves basketball. Incidentally, he shares the same last name with Shinobu, a popular rich boy who would be perfect if not for his rotten personality. Chihiro is Hikaru’s childhood friend and has long had a crush on him.

34. Wana Love - Wanna be the Honey Trap

Mayuko is a model. She's acting like a beauty in front of guys but in fact she's suffering of an unrequited love with the cameraman Nagumo...Will she reveal her true nature through his lens...?

35. Yoshiwara Hana Oboro

Hana is a normal teenager who goes to school normally, that is until she gets run over by a car... or did she? Suddenly, she finds herself in a weird place known as the "Red Light District"... in EDO PERIOD?! Trying to find a way to get back to her own time, she somehow gets mistaken for a prostitute and has to escape. Not expecting to be saved by a gentleman, she suddenly ends up in a geisha house.. but then she is bought by the same guy who helped her earlier?!

36. Yumemiru Taiyou

While loitering in the park, Shimana Kameko, who intended to run away from home and skipped school, meets a suspicious man in a kimono. This man, who had been locked out of his house, offers Shimana a place to stay. However, he requests she fulfill three conditions in exchange for her tenancy?!

#manga #shoujo recommendation #unrequited love #romance #ao haru ride #bambi to dhole #kobayashi ga kawai sugite tsurai #last game #love so life #orange #special a #suki desu suzuki kun #yumemiru taiyou #one shot #sherlock #shoujo manga #mangacap #mitsuki kako #wana love

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french-obeyme-twistedwonderland · 3 years

Text

Eng Leona Kingscholar X Readerfem! provocative

For all to understand, the Reader is a woman and has the ability to strengthen her muscles. However, this makes her very tired! Enjoy your reading.

_____________________________________________

During the night, I hear Grim coughing in the distance. It's not an act, I think.

It is at daybreak that I notice that my roommate is shivering, I approach him and gently wake him up and he tells me he is not feeling well. Sighing, I point out that he had taken a cold bath supposedly to make his hair soft. Grumbling at me, he sneezes while making out under the duvet. Touching his forehead, I ask him to wait for me while I get ready. Dressing and mask on, I put my coat over my shoulders and then put Grim on top of me before closing it up. I have to keep him at his temperature, the poor guy doesn't even have the strength to protest anymore.

In the main aisle, I look like a pregnant woman but Grim's head sticks out a bit for air. Hearing my friends in the distance, I greet them and then Deuce worries about my health, thinking I'm using Grim as a heater. To which I respond by pointing out my companion's intelligence. Ace laughs at him but the poor fellow is so weak he only has the strength to look at him wickedly. I tell the boy I am leaving to take Grim to the infirmary. Ace advises me not to be late for Crewel's class and I simply nod.

With the pet dropped off, the note of apology for his absence and my lateness in my pocket, I go straight to the classroom. When my teacher closes the door, I manage to rush in under Ace's little applause. He doesn't miss a beat!

- May I ask why you are late, Fuyu," Crewel asks me threateningly.

- Well," I laughed a little as his whip gently struck his hand. Grim got sick, I took him to the infirmary... Here are our words.

- Hm," he said, looking at them. I'll take your late note, hoping this sort of thing doesn't happen again.

- Yes sir," I apologized and sat down.

- Well, except for Grim's absence... Everyone is present. The headmaster has seen fit to give you a taste of what you'll be getting for the next two years. To do this, you will be under the tutelage of one of your elders for a full day. This day will take place tomorrow, counting on you to behave like a good puppy in front of your elders. If I hear of any undesirable behaviour, you will be given an exemplary punishment.

- Yes, announce everyone.

- Well, with that, let's get started.

During class, I concentrate as best I can, tomorrow is going to be very interesting!

As I leave the classroom, someone bumps into me, under my protests, I see Leona. Damn, her comment about me bumping into her annoys me. I point out to him that I'm out of my class and he's kind of in my way. He replies that it's his path and he didn't see me because of my height. Protesting in defence of my hard-won 5'7", he simply blows his nose before leaving. Deuce advises me not to piss him off too much but Ace encourages me to go along with it. Turning to them, I announce that I don't think I'll be with Leona tomorrow. Even admitting that it would be the height of disaster to run into him as a companion tomorrow. After all, I'm only going to learn how to skip class and procrastinate.

When we are assigned, I look angrily at the timetable and the name of my accompanist

- You guys smell that," I ask.

- Which one," Deuce asks.

- The smell of fucking irony," I say, pointing to my paper. I have Leona Kingscholar.

- Great," grumbles the voice of my companion. Of all the drinkable herbivores, I had to get the worst one.

- I reassure you, you're not a gift.

- You'll have to follow me and not make too much noise. This is a chance for you to stand by me, so don't waste it unnecessarily.

- Yes, Uncle Leona," I smiled.

With a grunt, Crewel wished us a good day. Looking at the boys, they send me all their courage and support. Come on, cheer up T.P., it's just 8 hours of being by her side. Even if it will be 8 hours of hard fighting. Waiting for him to leave, I look at our schedule, it's potion court. Besides, with Crewel, it's likely to give. But I don't want to prove him right, at the slightest opportunity, I take the stick he hands me to hit his ankles.

After putting on our chemist's outfits, I stand ready to see what happens in potions class. Standing in the centre of the room, the aim is to help our senpais in the preparation of a potion. The potion has to be prepared with the greatest care, the one in charge is our elder, but the teacher offers us the steps as well as colour photos as a reference. As the sheet falls into my hands, Leona hastens to take it, ordering me not to interfere too much in her way.

No way! For the moment, and even if it annoys me, I find myself admiring his precision concerning the dosages. I am content to do the mixing on my own so that I can be seen by the teacher. When the next step comes, I take the ingredient but Leona stops me saying that I am wrong. I tell her I'm not, based on what the ingredient could look like with the colour on the card. Laughing to myself, I quickly prepare the potion to get to the same stage. Handing it to Leona, I tell her we'll see who wins. As the teacher walks by, he asks us why there are two potions. Smiling, I cut Leona off as she was about to prove herself right, I then explain to the teacher that we had a disagreement and that he wanted to see who was right in the story. Looking at Leona, I add that even our elders can make mistakes. The teacher just nods his head while Leona growls all her hate at me and just says she's lucky. He just won't admit that I was right.

In Trein's class, I'm not surprised to see him asleep within 3 seconds. On the bright side, he is making an appearance. Noticing the teacher's gaze on my companion, I rudely wake him up by stepping on his foot. Grumbling at what I have done, the teacher asks Leona not to bring one of her promising students down. I smile and thank the teacher for the compliment. I even add, in a low voice, that my presence might help her.

In sports, I warm up with Leona who still doesn't seem to be thrilled. It's a 500-metre race, and although I don't doubt my partner's abilities, I'd like to see how far my powers can go. Muscle building doesn't take much magic, I've been learning to breathe with Deuce and Jack. As well as knowing how to run properly! The lion will never refuse a challenge, especially if it's a matter of pride.

- Leona," I said. Can two of us run and see who can make the least time?

- You dare to challenge me," asks Leona. You're just a herbivore.

- Are you afraid of losing?

- Victory would be too easy, laughs Leona.

- Well, this will be an opportunity to shut me up.

Tapping her chest gently, her look and gestures say it all. The students seem to swallow, but Rook seems interested in the turn of events. We both stand on the dance floor, I feel ready! When the whistle blows, we start running. At the start, my muscles are barely strengthened and a small gap opens up. As I stick my tongue out at him, an angry growl crosses his throat and he starts to accelerate. When the gap is too big, I start to move my legs quickly and my magic to get to his level. Even though it's hard to keep it together for 500 metres, the desire to make him swallow his hat helps me to keep going. On the last few metres, we cross the finish line at the same time as the teacher announces the time we have done. Catching my breath, I admit to myself that I accept a tie. So as not to lose too much face. However, Leona doesn't seem to accept it because he considers it as a defeat, did I push him too far?

After class, I leave to join my friends but Leona takes me to a secluded corner to pin me against a wall.

- If you're trying to push me over the edge," Leona announces. You've succeeded.

- Thank you," I smile. This day has been very instructive for me.

- Pfft, the only thing you were doing was bugging me.

- Really," I say a little red as I feel her breath on my face. I'm glad then.

- How do I shut that mouth," Leona wonders, bringing her face close to mine.

- Well, there are different ways. But I'm not sure it's right for you.

- But I guess it suits you. You're really the only person who's ever stepped out of my comfort zone.

I thank him for the compliment, sliding my hands over his ribs. Revelling in his warm gaze on me and then the shape of his muscles, I turn him against the wall. Probably waiting for me to do something, I brush my lips against his. I want to throw myself into his arms but that would be to prove him right. Walking away in frustration, I join my friends with a last look at Leona.

But she seems to be enjoying this game.

#leona x reader #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland #x reader

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ellewords · 3 years

Note

At Osamu’s wedding, no one can really figure out why Atsumu is being so distant. It’s his brother’s big day! He should be celebrating, living it up, having a great time! Instead, he keeps mostly to himself before the ceremony, only returning to the group to calm ‘Samu down when he has a bit of a freak out because a few more people than expected showed up and they aren’t sure if they’ll have enough food for everyone (they manage just fine, but not without a lot of grumbling). The rest of the time before the wedding starts, ‘Tsumu stays away as much as possible going over his best man speech. During the ceremony, he manages to keep up a happy air because he is happy, he is. He’s just also feeling a little off.

During the reception, Atsumu gives an absolutely stunning speech. It has the crowd in tears and laughter, Osamu’s partner looks like they might start crying happy tears, and Osamu himself looks really touched at the entire thing. He had thought Atsumu was opposed to the entire wedding because of how he was acting earlier, but now he can see that Atsumu is happy for them, sincerely, genuinely, so happy for them. There’s only one line at the very end, something about Osamu moving on, that strikes a bit of a cord for the people that really know Atsumu, but it’s just vague enough that no one else can tell if it’s a throw-away line or if it has his entire heart on display. Osamu gives him a strange look, like he can tell what it really meant, but he says nothing.

After his speech, Atsumu spends a bit of his time getting congratulated and praised for his speech by the wedding party, and then by the crowd as he slowly makes his way out to a secluded corner outside. He stares at the moon and the stars for a few minutes before his walls finally crumble. He doesn’t cry, but he looks like he’s about to at any given second, eyes shining with unshed tears, cheeks red, trembling lips, deep, uneven breaths leaving his mouth.

It hadn’t hit him until earlier that morning that Osamu getting married meant a lot of things for the both of them. It meant ‘Samu was starting a new life. It meant ‘Tsumu had a new sibling-in-law. It meant they had a bigger family now... but it also meant that they were moving on. From the past, from each other. He’d gotten the same feeling when his brother had decided to stop playing volleyball all those years ago. Loneliness in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. It had taken him months after finding out for Atsumu to realize that just because they were apart didn’t mean that they were alone. They were still twins and they could still interact and clown each other and be just as close as they had been all their lives. They could still depend on each other even if they weren’t following the same path and around each other all the time. But this... this feels different. Osamu has someone new to depend on, now. Atsumu wouldn’t be his only crutch anymore. He’d realized that he never actually was Osamu’s only crutch, but Osamu was definitely his, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to lose that. But he wouldn’t say any of that out loud. He wasn’t that selfish.

Atsumu nearly shits himself when he realizes that Osamu has wandered out and is now standing beside him, eyes directed at the sky, knowing that Atsumu would hate to be seen like this. So he doesn’t look. Instead, he just stands there, a plate of food in one hand and a drink in the other. They don’t exchange any words; they just wait for Atsumu’s breathing to even out. Then, Osamu hands him the food and drink and sits next to him, still looking at the stars. Atsumu tries to urge him to go back inside, he’s the man of the hour after all, but Osamu just shrugs. It’s simple, and so Osamu, but it’s just enough that Atsumu knows what he means. He cries then, eating his food in hopes of smothering the sound, but Osamu doesn’t mind.

It looks like his crutch is sticking around longer than he thought.

— from elle ! okay anon, just...wow. i'm literally breathless just from reading this. the way you put emotion into words...just nothing short of amazing. and i can totally see it happening too which i guess makes it all the more heartbreaking? aaaah idk this just—- i love your take on their relationship so much. picking up where you left off for my quick little addition, all under the cut, and i focused it a bit more on samu since yours placed an emphasis on tsumu. and also bec you captured tsumu so perfectly that i don’t think i can add anything more hahaha thank you so so much for this anon and I hope you're having a wonderful day. <3

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

the loud music that played throughout the reception hall had been reduced to a dull thud, a distant melody that rung in osamu’s ears as his brother scarfed down the plate of food he had brought him. it started out as a single tear, that developed into two, and seconds later an entire stream had been running down atsumu’s face.

osamu didn’t know what he had been expecting when he wandered out into the cold night air, essentially throwing his spouse out all alone into the pushy aunts and uncles, all the relatives who wanted nothing more than to converse with them alone for just a few minutes.

“ 'm needed elsewhere.” he had explained, hoping that his partner would understand where he was coming from, why he had to step out for just a few minutes.

and lucky enough, his spouse did. they give him an encouraging smile, gaze scanning around the reception area for any sign of their new brother in law, only to be met with nothing. “go ahead, i'll hold things down for now.”

osamu watched as his brother practically demolish the plate of food, gulping down the drink alongside it in just a few minutes. it’s silent, probably the most silent things have been between them, save for atsumu’s occasional sniffles or the yelling from the reception. a more upbeat song had begun playing, the kind that raised one’s heartbeat and made it almost impossible not to move to the beat.

“you’re missin’ out on all the fun.” atsumu mumbled, wiping the corner of his lips with the sleeve of his shirt.

osamu’s nose crinkled at the sight, handing atsumu a tissue from his pocket, “i know, but it’s a nice time to be out, isn’t it?”

a cold breeze blew past the two of them, threading in between their hair, through the fabric of their button-ups, sending chills down their spines. he took a deep inhale, closing his eyes in an attempt to steady the beating of his heart. atsumu followed suit, trying to get himself to relax a bit more. osamu’s exhale was much shakier than atsumu’s had been.

“things are different now, aren’t they?”

there was no need to answer the question, not with both of them having known the answer for quite some time now. things had been changing for years, with each day that passed, with the general passing of time. it had changed when osamu expressed no longer wanting to play volleyball, it had changed when atsumu began to play professionally, it had changed when osamu admitted to his brother that he planned on marrying his partner. the wedding itself wasn’t the sole catalyst of it all.

“they are. but is that so bad?”

osamu’s surprised, whipping his head towards atsumu’s so he now faced him. raising a brow, he gestured for his brother to continue.

atsumu smiled, small and somewhat wistful, as he stared out into the starless night sky, “we’re livin’ the lives meant for us, aren’t we? me with volleyball, you with onigiri miya. and yer married now too, and they’re fantastic. but i'll still have ya, and you’ll still have me.”

osamu nodded along, it was something that he had been thinking about for a while now, maybe since the day he stopped playing volleyball; the distance and difference in the lives that they wanted to live.

but here atsumu was, on a grand spiel about change and constancy, how both could be things that coexisted, how the two of them were pretty much proof of that idea.

osamu smiled, any ounce of doubt slowly disappearing. atsumu might still need him, but he needed him back just as much. and they’d be a constant in each other’s changing lives, whether they liked it or not.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

a question: what would the hq characters be like at a wedding? | written on the margins masterlist

taglist : @haikyuutothetop @crystal-lilac @tobioespresso @sushijimawakatoshi @itsmeaudrieee @pantherhappy @jesssobs @mysticstrawberryballoon @cloudedsky_29 @sakusasimpbot

join my hq taglist here. <3

#atsumu pls—- 🥺#you too osamu 🥺#gosh i love these two sm #and i love !! this !! so thank you anon #written on the margins 🔖#atsumu headcanons #atsumu scenarios #osamu headcanons #osamu scenarios #🎐 — anon! <3

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slashmebois · 4 years

Text

You make me breathless

“Hello! How are you? I hope you are very well ;) If you don't mind, could you write about Bo's reaction to an asthmatic reader? being fucking soft on him and freaking out when he tries too hard? How to mount your thigh? I suffer from asthma attacks, you know, it's hell when everyone treats me like a baby, but deep down I enjoy it, thanks in advance and see you!”

Thank you so much for your request @ !! I hope this fits what you wanted! I kept this GN up until thigh riding, so if y’all aren’t the owners of a va-gi-na you may wanna stop reading at that point.

I’ve not written NSFW before so sorry if it’s a lil cringe haha.

Disclaimer: My only experience of asthma is a close family member who has pretty severe symptoms. If any of the information I put in is incorrect, please drop me a message and I’ll do my best to educate myself and edit the post! I used information from Asthma UK to inform my writing.

Okay first, some background.

When you first arrived in Ambrose and Bo was chasing you, he thought it was hilarious when your asthma started to act up (he’s an asshole, I’m sorry). But he did feel a little teensy bit guilty about that later…

Leading on from that, if anyone does anything that triggers your asthma, well Bo is gonna be pissed.

Both Lester and Vincent have been kicked in the ass for doing so. Vincent is just so quiet that he scared the heck out of you by accident, and Lester bought that cleaning product that sets you off because he wasn’t listening properly.

Boy really thought you needed CPR the first time you had a big attack (he just wanted an excuse to kiss you okay). He’s since learned to keep an eye on where your inhaler and Volumatic spacer are so he can grab them quick.

If you have a preventer inhaler, he tries to remind you to take it.

He’s also a little overprotective (see bullet point two) and panics a little because he doesn’t really understand that sometimes the cause won’t be obvious. He has literally run around holding up things to you and asking if that is what was causing it.

It can feel like he’s babying you since he drops whatever is happening if you get the slightest bit breathless.

But also he drops whatever he’s doing, which is kind of sweet.

Initially he got pretty proud when your symptoms triggered whilst you were getting it on. Once you’d recovered and explained it to him, he realised that whilst he loved the idea of you finding it hard to breathe around him, that maybe, just maybe it wasn’t actually a good thing.

Tonight, was the night. You were determined. Tonight, was the night you would make Bo realise you are an independent and goddamn sexy adult who can take care of themselves.

He had been babying you all week. The pollen count in Ambrose currently was astronomical and setting off your asthma big time. You had been trying to get down and dirty, but every time you had felt your airways tightening and Bo had scrambled for your inhaler, before holding you and kissing your head. And he always refused sex after. You were pretty sure he thought that’s what was causing it at this point.

You dressed yourself in your tightest, most revealing clothes, adding a garter underneath for good luck. You felt sexy and powerful. You just hoped Vincent wasn’t chilling in the kitchen to see this. It had happened before and yes; it was embarrassing for everyone involved. Striding down the stairs you glance over to the kitchen table. Okay, phew. The coast is clear.

You’re thankful as you step into the street, that the air in Ambrose is always warm- come summer or winter. You hear the music coming from the garage before you see Bo come into view. He’s singing along, focused on the car engine in front of him. You lean against the garage door, watching him with that warm fuzzy feeling of love. You’re so thankful you found him.

He turns and jumps a little, before eyeing you up and down slowly- a devilish grin working its way onto his face.

“Well that is a nice view” he whistles, his eyes locking with yours, “what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion…just wanted to look nice for myself” you spin on the spot, giving him the full view.

“For yourself huh?”, he makes his way over to you, laying his hands on your hips and leaning in close to hum in your ear, “and could little old Bo get any of that, or are we strictly keeping this to ourselves?” he punctuates it, by pulling you close enough to feel his erection against your back.

You gasp audibly, “I guess I could share a little. Sharing is caring and all that”

His laughs rumbles, And he starts walking you towards the basement, gripping and grasping at you as he does.

By the time you reach the basement, you’re already moaning and can feel the growing arousal between your thighs. He manages to jostle the door open and picks you up, wrapping your legs round him to carry you over to the chair.

Bo, leans back and just studies you before going to town on your neck, nipping and sucking and groaning, “how the fuck did I get so lucky baby”.

You’re a mess before he’s even touched you down there, and struggling to form words, “Bo…uhh…oh my-YES”

His hands paw at your chest, kneading the flesh before moving south to cup you.

“Someone’s excited” he grins, but you can hear he’s nearly as breathless as you.

His fingers start to move down there and it’s little bits of electric. You’re panting and grabbing at his back,

“please please please”

He pulls his hand away and you groan in dismay. The sensation is quickly replaced, you squeak as he rips your bottoms off and kneels before you, putting his mouth on you and sucking hard.

You can feel yourself quickly approaching climax, but then it happens. Your throat tightens and you gasp inward, your breath not quite reaching your lungs.

Bo is immediately off you, “where’s your inhaler, where is it baby?”, he looks so worried, fuck. This is so unfair. You point over to your discarded bag and he rustles through it to find your saving grace. He tosses you the inhaler, and picks you up as you use your inhaler, placing you down in his lap.

You take breaths in, letting the medication sooth your airways until you can breathe again. All the time, Bo is muttering reassurances and sweeping you hair back from your face to kiss your eyelids.

“It’s okay baby, you’re all right. Don’t worry. We’ll get you to bed”

You can feel the angry tears threatening to spring from your eyes, “I don’t want to go to bed Bo. I am not a baby! I’m a fully grown adult and I want to fuck. Jesus!”

He stills, a little stunned, “You think I treat you like a baby?”, his tone is dark.

“Well…I…I just feel stupid.”

“Oh no, no, no. That’s fine. I can treat you different if you like”

Before you can respond he has you over his lap and his hand is coming down on your backside. You yelp in surprise, “B…Bo”

---GN ends, reader is person with vagina from here on out---

“Ah-ah, call me daddy babygirl”

You feel a shiver of delight pass through you, “yes daddy”, the groan that emits from Bo is unworldly.

He spanks you again, and you moan, squirming you legs together beneath him, “please daddy”

“Please, what?”

“Uhhhn, please touch me”

“Come sit on daddy’s knee”

You lift yourself, desperate to please him so he’d please you. You start to sit sideways across his knees, but he stops you and pulls you toward him so that you have a leg on either side of one of his knees.

Confused you start to question “what in the heck are you doing?” but before you can finish the sentence, he grinds his knee up into your core and ohhh…oh fuck, that feels good. Your legs clamp tightly around his leg, and you start to press down, “mmm. Please. Please daddy, that feels so good”.

He grinds his knee again and grabs your hips, pulling you down onto his thigh more. You don’t need more encouragement, you start moving your hips with him, mewling out his name and expletives. You leave a trail of your wetness along his leg, and fuck if that isn’t hot.

“Tell daddy how good it feels pet. Mm, you like that don’t you?”

“Daaaddy, it feels-mmmf-it feels so good.”

“Whose doing that to you?”

“Y…you are Bo. Oh my god. Oh my god. pleeeease”

Your face is flushed and your hair sticks to your forehead as you feel the mounting tightness in your stomach pooling down.

“Yeah I am baby. You gonna cum for me? Gonna make you cum just using my thigh huh?”

You try to respond but your orgasm tears through you, and you just wail in a mix of pleasure and slight pain. Your breath is short, but for a different reason this time. You’re still for a spell, trying to catch it again, and trying to decide if you’re still on this plane of existence. You realise that the whole time Bo is just staring at you, a big smile on his face.

“What?” you laugh.

“Nothing, just think I’ll have to stop treating you so precious huh? Kinda liked this side of you”

You pout, “I don’t mind you treating me a little like a baby. But only a little.”

He barks out a laugh, “Alright, alright. We’ll compromise. You can be my spoilt baby during the day”, he leans in close to your ear, his thighs movement against your slit making you jump, “but at night I’m treating you like this. You get an asthma attack, fine we’ll sort it. But I might have to punish you for making me worry”

You bite your lip, feeling a second wave of arousal hit you. Fuck, at this rate you’d be cumming a second time real soon. He catches the look in your eye, “Guess I better get to work on you again”

#how #house of wax #bo sinclair #bo sinclair smut #bo sinclair x reader #slashers

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deltas-writing-corner · 4 years

Text

Courtship: Respect

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Warnings: Mentions and depictions of smoking/tobacco usage

Next chapter | AO3 version

Slight revisions and full version posted on: 5/4/2021

The alarm clock on your phone is loud and annoying, but it’s the only sound that will wake you up without fail so you can get a head start on your more demanding days, like today.

Groggy and neck a bit strained, a sign that you’ve slept on it wrong, you carefully push yourself up and off your bed. You come across your first hurdle of the day. A few wolf cubs had settled on your chest and your sides during the night. You try carefully to move them off of you and to the side of their mother, who has settled near your feet and isn’t afraid to growl or snap her jaw should you even think of shifting or moving away from her. Unfortunately, the pups seem determined to stick by your side despite your efforts. Luckily the pack’s alpha, Gunter, is settled right behind your head and acted as your pillow for the night. He must be why your neck feels stiff as hell.

You reach back and start petting behind his ear, rubbing into the bunch of dotted scars beneath his coarse hair. You feel his body stretch and shake as he wakes up as well. A small whine comes out of him as he gives out an enormous yawn. It makes you yawn as well.

“Ready to start the day?” you whisper to him.

He huffs with a bit of attitude as if to say, “Not really, but what choice do I have?”

You redirect his attention to his pups, preventing you from sitting up without disturbing everyone else. With silent understanding, he removes himself from underneath your head and carefully steps over one of his brothers, who has graciously allowed you to use him as an armrest somewhere during the night. After another good morning stretch, Gunter begins the slow and steady process of picking the pups up from the scruffs off their necks and setting them elsewhere on your bed.

While he does this, you grab your phone and do a quick sweep of all your notifications. You have a few emails, one a weekly newsletter about current and future school events, most of it spam. You have a couple of dozen messages from Ace and Deuce detailing an argument over whether the former ate the latter’s piece of strawberry shortcake they were saving for after dinner. Apparently, they thought to ask you to be their mediator since it was clear they weren’t going anywhere arguing and pointing fingers back and forth at each other.

Unfortunately for them, they messaged you right after you conked out. You were exhausted yesterday, having to deal with an especially rambunctious and mischievous Grim. You were also scrambling to gather the reading materials needed for one of your classes before the other students can snag them. The most recent and urgent incident is figuring out what to do now that the only generator that powers up all of Ramshackle is going out or outright failing to even start up at all. You also have a decently sized garden to tend to, and the next large harvest is today. Once everything has been properly collected, washed, and either stored away in your pantry or given to Sam so he can sell and make a profit on your behalf and his own (it’s a 60/40 split and you had to fight tooth and nail for that 60), you have to replant everything once again after you’ve tilled the soil…

To say that there’s a lot on your plate is an understatement.

Free from your furry prison, you’re finally able to sit up and move your limbs freely. Something slightly damp presses against your bare shoulder, calling for your attention. Gunter, still clearly tired (expected of anyone, human or wolf, having to wake up at six o’clock in the morning), is now awaiting proper payment for his services.

“I got some dried venison in the kitchen,” you offer. The way his one good eye pops wide open and his tail begins to rapidly wag, the deer jerky will suffice.

You give the top of his head one last rub before standing up and heading straight for your bathroom to take a quick shower. Since the availability of electricity has been scarce lately, so is the availability of heating throughout the dorm. Unlike the ghosts, who can’t differentiate between hot and cold (unless it’s magically sourced), you can. Unlike the ghosts who are already dead, you will die in this late winter cold. Grim has better control of his blue flames compared to when you first met him, so he can now essentially be his own heater. He seemed a bit too comfortable keeping himself warm and letting you freeze to death, considering you’re the only reason he’s enrolled in this school.

You make do with what you have and your situation. Even when you gathered all the untorn and clean blankets and piled them on top of you last night, the cold still found its way underneath your cocoon. Gunter, the leader of a small bunch of wolves you had been taking care of during your first few weeks in Twisted Wonderland, must have seen you struggling to stave off the cold and settled himself next to you during the night followed by his brother, his sister, and finally Gunter’s mate and their pups.

Of course, with three full-grown wolves and four chubby wolf babies as your immediate heat sources, you overheated in no time and had to throw off all your covers and strip down to your underclothes in the middle of the night since your pajamas had quickly gotten soaked in sweat (and most definitely covered in their thick fur). A cold shower is just what you need to clean up after a long night drenched in sweat.

You also need to clean your sheets, but without electricity, your washer and dryer are out of order for the time being…

Dammit.

Cold showers suck, but once the ice-cold water hits your back, it woke you the hell up. You probably spent only five minutes in there before you quickly rinsed off and got out because of how unbearable the ice water was.

Once you’re properly toweled dried, you head to your closet and change. You put on clothes you don’t mind getting covered in dirt and sweat; a simple wool sweatshirt and some overalls lined with thick fleece. You also put on a pair of knitted crew socks and secure them to your leg with a pair of garters.

Right as you snap the final metal clasp on the knotted fabric, you feel a familiar bump on your shoulder. Gunter is giving you his best pleading face he can manage. Most people likely wouldn’t fall for it, what with the many scars littering across his body and face, making him look scary rather than cute. You feel a little tug in your heart. Luckily, you’re all dressed up and ready to start your day, so you quickly straighten up and usher him downstairs to give him his well-deserved treat. You grab your phone before you exit your room so you can peruse it on your way.

As you read over old texts and useless emails, a new notification comes in. It’s another message. As surprised as you are to receive a message so early in the morning (Ace and Deuce are likely still snoring and drooling into their pillows at this hour), it is the sender of the text that makes your slowed strides halt completely.

Good morning. I hope you had a pleasant and well-deserved night of rest. I’m currently getting ready to head over to the Ramshackle dorm to help you with your harvesting, as I promised. The coat you’ve made and gifted me during the holidays also fits perfectly and is by far the most comfortable piece of clothing I now own.

Thank you again for your most generous gift. I will inform you when I have arrived.

Yours truly,

Malleus Draconia

You can’t help but smack your palm on your forehead. You’re not annoyed or exasperated, it’s quite the opposite, actually. You’re happy that Malleus’s charm can somehow manifest even within a text message. In fact, this isn’t the first time he’s sent you a message formatted and written like a formal letter. If someone were to look at the small messaging history between you two, they’d see that a great majority of it is just Malleus sending you these long strings of text. They would also find your messages, or rather, your poor and embarrassing attempts at mimicking his language and style (he says he gets a laugh out of them, so maybe they’re as bad as you think). There’s also always a follow-up message, gently reminding and encouraging him to relax and not worry about offending you for speaking casually for you.

His response is always the same, and it makes your stomach feel strangely fuzzy.

You have earned my respect, now I must strive to earn yours.

It’s only been a little over a month since he dropped the bombshell that was his desire for your friendship to evolve into a proper, romantic relationship. To say it surprised you is another understatement. You were thoroughly flabbergasted once your mind finally registered his words as genuine. To hear him say “I love you” and direct such a powerful statement towards you was truly the last thing you expected since arriving in this strange world.

But through all the outer uncertainties there was one thing you were certain of, your inner uncertainties. Malleus is a dear friend of yours. Even amongst Ace or Deuce, two individuals who have been with you since the beginning and nearly every overblot incident that has come your way, Malleus holds a special place in your heart as your dearest friend.

But a friend is all he’s ever been in your mind. There was truly never an instance where you pondered or even held some amount of desire or expectation that your friendship could evolve into something more. You felt like a total prick during the end of his confession, asking him if you could sit on his words for a while and come back to him when you have a more certain and final answer to give. Watching the hope and nervousness in his eyes turn into one of pure and utter sadness and even embarrassment, yet he willed himself to conceal his heartbroken emotions back for your sake. It hurt like hell. What was supposed to be an exciting and relaxing end-of-winter-break party in Scarabia’s dorm (and an apology party for Jamil’s actions against you), turned awkward. Neither of you stayed any longer once you went your separate ways.

Despite what had happened, when you received a proper smartphone (and a proper phone plan to boot) as a gift for Christmas, one of the first things you did was transfer all your old contacts into the new device. The first person you messaged was Malleus, wanting to check in on him after your last encounter and to wish him a happy holiday. He answered back in a matter of minutes, much to your surprise. While he’s not the most tech-savvy, your major concern was whether he was holding up well after what happened and if you guys were going to remain as friends. You went on a whole tangent, trying your best to not sound so desperate and ensure that your response is in no way his fault because it most certainly is not. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s you.

Gunter suddenly tenses up. His fur instinctually puffs out, trying to appear bigger in anticipation of whatever threat he’s detected in the kitchen. Metallic clanking and clashing come from underneath the kitchen island where you store all the pots, pans, and heavy-duty appliances. A loud and harsh crash riles up Gunter enough that he feels the need to growl at whatever is underneath the cupboard.

You quietly move past him and wave your arm, signaling him to move back a bit. He listens to your orders and takes a few slow steps back. You position yourself on the side of the cabinet, fingertips pressing onto the top of the door to prepare to open.

“On my mark,” you whisper to Gunter. “One... Two…Three!”

You yank the door open, and Gunter quickly launches himself towards the potential threat. Though, not a second passes before he’s suddenly skidding across the floor, trying to immediately halt himself. He barely avoids hitting his head against the wood and giving himself a nasty bruise. When you ask him what’s wrong, he sticks his head into the cabinet and pulls out the apparent intruder.

It’s Blossom, a young fawn you rescued from the rose gardens of the Heartslaybul dorm. It was during the preparation of the unbirthday party near the start of the school year that subsequently led to dorm leader Riddle’s overblot. Cater assigned Grimm, Ace, Deuce, and yourself to paint the roses red with him. On top of rose painting duty, Cater was also on the lookout for a supposed ‘rose thief’ who had been snagging some roses from their garden right from under their noses. The scoundrel they were looking for was the fawn before you. From the way he still wobbled on his feet, he wasn’t even a month old when you initially rescued him. He’s lucky you found him when you did. His front leg was caught in a rusted and dull, but full-sized bear trap they set up in case the thief was a wild animal.

“What are you doing in there?” you ask the little troublemaker. “Probably trying to find a snack to chew on, huh?”

Blossom thrashes, trying to break free from Gunter’s hold on his scruff. He of course fails, but not without giving out a distressed scream and trying to plead for forgiveness by giving you his best innocent look. You shake your head before looking up at the small clock hung up on the wall above the refrigerator. It runs on battery so you have to worry about the time no longer being correct when the house lacks power.

It’s 6:15, still way too early. You tell Gunter to let go of Blossom and he does it without argument. Blossom quickly runs up to you, using your own body as a foothold to jump up into your arms. Once you have a hold of him, he bombards your face with little licks and nuzzles of his snout. While this action is normal and you would gladly accept it, you know better than to think it’s not the fawn’s attempts at trying to distract you from his misdeed.

“If you’re looking for the sugared flower petals, you won’t have any luck down there,” you tell him. He immediately stops his loving ministrations and gives out a disappointingly snort before relaxing in your arms.

You chuckle and give him a few apologetic pets on the head as you walk over to one of the upper cupboards and rummage around the various jars, trying to locate the dried venison for Gunter. You also grab a jar placed far in the back with the aforementioned candied rose petals Blossom was most definitely looking for. The moment you open the jar and the heavy scent of sweetness and floral whiffs in the air, Blossom begins to excitedly thrash about in your arms and tries to stick his head into the container. Luckily, the small nubs on his head, his newly budding antlers, stop him from reaching too deep.

You spend the next few minutes feeding your companions their early morning treat. The doorbell rings as you let Blossom lick the last specks of sugar off of your now damp palm. After rinsing your hands off and drying them, you head to the door. You open it and take in the sight of a newly arrived Malleus, dressed in a simple black dress shirt and a pair of loose-fitting linen pants you made for him when he expressed discomfort over his PE uniform the last time he helped you in your garden.

“Good morning!” you greet him as brightly as you can without being too loud.

“A good morning to you as well,” he greets back. Unlike you, who is still groggy and slow, he seems properly energized despite the time. You’re jealous. You’ve been waking up at the crack of dawn for years, at least a decade now, yet your body isn’t used to the early routine. Though compared to the hundreds of years Malleus has on you, you probably won’t show any sign of improvement until your hairs are gray.

“Have you eaten yet?” Malleus asks.

You shake your head. “The electricity is out, so I can’t use the stove or open the fridge too often.”

“Crowley still hasn’t replaced your generator?”

“No,” you frown. “Every time I try to bring it up he either gives an outlandish excuse or just flat out tells me I don’t need a new one.”

His eyebrows pressed together, clearly upset as you are at the headmaster’s failure as your caretaker. You reassure him it’s fine. Everyone in the dorm has been saving money for emergencies like this, and it just so happens that the money you’ll make for selling the produce you collect today will bring in just enough to buy a brand new generator. You’ll be out of electricity for another week, two at most, but have enough firewood and nonperishable foods to last until then.

“You should at least make yourself some coffee,” Malleus urges. “It’s bad to work on an empty stomach. You've said so yourself.”

“I will once Grim and the ghosts wake up,” you reassure. “For now, let’s head to the back and get started. There’s a lot to harvest, so the sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish up.”

He’s clearly unhappy at your dismal of his concerns. You know that being so nonchalant towards a fae is rude, but you don’t want to worry him with your own issues. You also have no desire to eat or drink, not this early in the morning at least. If you tell him as much, he’ll probably freak out like he did last time, thinking you were unwell and forcing you to lie in bed for the rest of the day.

Yes, you could have pushed back and argued that you were fine, but it’s very hard to tell him “no” when his intentions are purely out of concern for your well-being. Better to let him hover over you and see that you’re fine than to leave him stewing in his anxieties in silence.

“What have you been growing this season?” Malleus asks as he tugs on the loaned gardening gloves you handed him.

“The usual spread. Some potatoes, cabbage, and carrots. The only fresh additions I planted are some peas and kale. Oh, and broccoli!”

“Did the crops hold well when you were gone?”

“They did thanks to the ghosts. The heat from the fire faeries around the campus also made them easier to protect from the cold,” you explain. “I should probably give them some type of exotic wood as a little thank you gift.”

“You can never go wrong with a bit of mahogany,” Malleus says as he ties back his hair.

You hand him a straw hat, one that you weaved to accommodate for his black horns. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“Your welcome,” he smiles at you before turning back to your garden. “So where shall we start first?”

“I’ll work on picking the cabbage heads. You can cut off the pea pods and we’ll go from there.”

“Very well. I’ll follow your lead.”

It’s 8 a.m. You know this because Ace and Deuce are woken up at this hour by Riddle and one of the first things they do is bombard you with text messages which usually forces you to turn your phone on silent mode. Despite it being late winter, you’re already working up a sweat from the repetitive and demanding motions of picking and carrying around baskets full of vegetables and cleaning them. Malleus is no better, hand continuously raising to his face to wipe away the constant wetness clinging to his forehead. You know he’s not used to manual labor like you are, so you try to bring him a pail of water every so often so he can stay properly hydrated.

“Oh my, you’re already up?”

You turn around to see who’s speaking to you and see one of the ghosts that live with you and Grim in Ramshackle floating towards you.

“Good morning!” you greet him. “Did you need something?”

“No no,” he shakes his head. “I just came to check up on my bees and saw you already hard at work.”

The ghost (Franklin is his name, but you all call him Frankie for short by his insistence), affectionately ruffles your hair with his large white palm. He’s one of the tamer ghosts, but he’s still capable of pulling a prank on you or his fellow housemates now and then. You and he have been cultivating and maintaining a small beehive since October, but he does most of the work and maintenance since he has more experience in the ways of beekeeping than you from when he was alive.

Frankie does a quick once over of the garden, his scanning gaze doubling back at seeing Malleus carefully rinse a couple of heads of broccoli.

“How long has he been here?”

“Since 6:30,” you answer back. “Why?”

“No one gets up that early unless it’s for someone they fancy,” he says rather nonchalantly, but the way he quickly side-eyes you show that he’s clearly talking about you. You try your best to appear unaffected and give a “Is that right?” type of hum, but your efforts are in vain since he just laughs at you.

“If even you know, that means he’s got it bad.”

You say nothing back because you honestly don’t know what to say, or if you should. You’re content to just go back to plucking potatoes out from the ground, but Frankie doesn’t seem to want to leave you alone just yet. He asks you to come with him to the greenhouse where the hive is being kept. The small glass enclosure also houses some flowers and herbs you use for cooking or medicine.

You quickly close the door behind you once you enter, reveling in the warmer air that hits your face. While Frankie lights his cigar and gets a heavy cloud of smoke going (his personal method of keeping the bees calm), he has you open the top and carefully pull out the panels one by one while he checks for any signs of a decaying hive and ensures the queen is alive and healthy. One of your initial worries about beekeeping was getting stung, but Frankie reassured you it’ll only happen if you purposely upset the bees or fail to care for the hives consistently. Now, you gladly let the buzzing honeybees wander around your bare skin.

As Frankie pulls out his cigar from between his lips and taps off the ashes into the respective ashtray, he looks over at you and asks, “Is everything ok?”

You give him a confused expression as you snap the cover for the hive back into place. “I’m fine?”

“You sure? Because if you ask me, you don’t seem like it.”

“I mean, I already have a pile of schoolwork I need to finish and a rundown dorm to take care of. I’m as ok as anyone in my position can be-“

“I’m not talking about any of that,” he interrupts. “I’m talking about you. Forget about Grim and your studies. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” you answer again.

“Are you sure?”

Well, when he puts it that way, even he must be able to see that you’re clearly not doing alright. In fact, you haven’t been alright since you were literally kidnapped and held against your will in the Scarabia dorm. Luckily everything worked out fine for everyone else, but not so much for you. You’ve noticed that your appetite is waning and you wake up multiple times during the night because you don’t feel safe, even in your own room.

Malleus’s confession unfortunately was another wrench being thrown at you. With your hands already so full of this and that, you’re struggling to figure out what needs a priority and which issues you need to either drop entirely or find someone trustworthy to take care of it in your stead. It’s hard to ask people for help when they either find a convenient reason to say no or you feel as if you can’t trust them to do something as simple as watering your plants. The only person you feel you can trust and ask for help is Malleus, and things aren’t exactly as they were between the two of you.

“Talk to me kiddo,” Frankie prods. “What’s been eating at you?”

He lifts his ashtray and makes to snuff out his cigar so he can focus on speaking to you, but you hastily reach over and stop him. You take the smoke from him and bring it up to your lips and puff a few grey clouds. Strangely enough, it tastes rather pleasant, floral, and creamy. You didn’t expect to taste like this because of the way it smells, like soil that was just freshly rained on.

“Sorry,” you hand it back to him. “I haven’t eaten and I’m practically running on fumes.”

“That’s alright,” he says, handing it back to you. “You look like you need it more than me.”

Malleus carefully blows small bits of green fire onto his freezing fingertips, trying to warm them up after being drenched in the icy water from the water pump. He looks over his shoulder, over the stalks of peas, towards you. You’re still in the greenhouse and frantically moving your lips. He can see your eyes are glistening with a fresh layer of… tears? You don’t allow a single drop to get past your lids, wiping them just at the last second before they can pass over the threshold.

He’s only ever seen you cry one other time, when he came to your rescue in Scarabia over the break. He initially thought he frightened you with his aggressive display of magic. Once the dust settled and the blot on Jamil was expunged, no one was more shocked than he was when you boldly ran straight towards him and jumped into his arms. It was all he ever wanted, what his mind dreamed of every single time he closed his eyes. He could no longer brush off the fluttering in his stomach as the mere excitement of making and spending time with his first genuine friend. He was determined to keep his newfound affections for you with him under lock and key, not willing to risk ruining your close-knit friendship with his selfish and potentially one-sided desires.

Your desperate embrace, your toughie exterior lowering to that of a sniveling and shaking human, gave Malleus the impression that the only reason you would display such vulnerability before him was that you reciprocated his sentiments. It gave him a sense of confidence he never knew he was lacking, usually so sure of himself most other times. It made his chest burn with an aching desire to say “to hell with it all” and spill his heart right then and there.

When you extended the invitation you received from Kalim to him, he saw it as his proper opportunity to let his affections be known. He was upset (according to Lilia, more than usual) that he had to take Sebek and Silver along with him for the usual security, but he was determined to get them distracted long enough so he can pull you aside and confess to you without fear of interruption or letting his personal affairs be known to anyone else, at least, for as long as he can keep something so monumental under wraps.

As a prince, he has been taught to look at the long term for each of his decisions, as they carry substantial weight. The long term of pursuing a relationship with you meant having to deal with the prejudices and stigma against humans that still live within the hearts of his people. For once in his life, he didn’t want to think like an heir. As he watches you continue to talk to one of Ramshackle’s ghosts with increasing frustration, he realizes his love utterly blinded him back then. The only long-term his rose-tinted mind could comprehend was of the happy moments he had long conjured in his head becoming a reality.

You didn’t explicitly reject him, however; he knows your behavior well enough to know that once his feelings were laid bare before you, you would not take them into your arms and hand yours over in return. Arms crossed and avoidance of eye contact, you do this when you’re nervous or unsure, sometimes both. He held onto the self-indulgent hope that you’d show him what you look like when flustered. Perhaps you’d stutter?

You did stutter when you spoke up, but they were not the words that he wanted, that he thought he was, going to hear.

“Malleus...I’m so sorry…”

“Ah, you’re here early!”

“It’s just that…I don’t think I can…”

“Hey! Are you listening to me? You better not be ignoring me on purpose!”

“It’s not that I’m telling you I don’t feel the same way, but I can’t exactly say that I do. It’s just... I’ve never- “

“Tsu-no-ta-rou!” Grim’s shrill voice, still a bit riddled with drowsiness, still pierce Malleus’s eardrums and nearly causes him to drop the vegetable in his hand. “Pay attention to me when I’m speaking!”

“Quiet,” he growls at the monster. “If you need your master, they’re in the greenhouse. Though, you might want to come back another time.”

“Huh? Why’s that?”

Malleus lifts Grim from the back of his fuzzy robe (you must have made it and gifted it to him during the holidays) and points to you. Frankie has one of his translucent hands on your shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly now and then while he speaks. You were no longer wiping your face so furiously, allowing your tears to fall and drip off of your jaw and wet your shirt as you listened to your fellow dorm resident.

“What happened? Did you smash all the tomatoes again?” Grim cranes his neck to look at Malleus accusingly.

“No, I didn’t. Those are out of season.”

“Maybe it’s about what happened at Scarabia,” Grim muses. “They haven’t been sleepin’ too good since we came back, y’know?”

Malleus nearly drops the cat. “They haven’t?”

“Nah,” the cat answers, far too casually and dismissively for the fae’s liking.

“This is news to me,” Malleus says, almost whispering to himself. He’s sad, almost offended, at the fact that you haven’t told him you’ve been having some difficulties this whole time. You normally keep him up to date with your personal life. He’s even more offended once he realizes that you’ve been worrying and reassuring him that your friendship with him isn’t ruined after what’s happened.

There’s a small voice in the back of his mind, conniving and twisted, that feeds into his already prevalent belief that your unwillingness to share with him your personal problems anymore is a sign that he hasn’t earned your respect. It’s a ridiculous explanation, but no amount of reassuring from either you or himself is going to stop his Mind from asking such a multi-sided question. Surely, if you thought admirably of him, you’d continue to allow him to bear witness to your moments of weakness and vulnerability. He feels close to you, connected to you in a way he’s never felt. He can be slow and downright miss some references to your jokes and behavior. You always put on a face of understanding, but is he so lost that your patience has worn paper-thin?

Are his feelings for you truly one-sided? Is he still jumping to conclusions too soon and just needs to give you more time and space? Did he just set a course for a ruined friendship or could his hastiness have been a fruitful gamble?

If it’s not iron that kills him, it’s the uncertainty within his heart and mind.

A shrill whistle pierces through the air and Malleus’s eardrums. Grim hisses at the sudden noise and the hairs on his neck stand up. Even Frankie and you can hear and turn your heads towards the source despite still being in the middle of a conversation. The one who whistled was another one of the ghosts who live in Ramshackle. Johnathan is his name, usually shortened to Johnny. His sunken cheekbones make him look unassuming, but you’ve rightly warned Malleus never to turn your back on that one for too long. It’s a miracle that you can keep up with all their shenanigans.

“I got the generator to start up and made some coffee!” Johnny happily announces. “Come get it while it and the dorm are nice and warm!”

“I’ll have a cup or two, so long as there’s a ton of cream and sugar!” Grim says whilst smiling. “And I ain’t skimping this time on the sugar!”

“You better if you know what’s good for you,” you sternly say, now out of the greenhouse along with Frankie. “We’re short on sugar and I’m not stocking up till next weekend.”

“Whaaaat?!” Grim exclaims, his lower jaw almost reaching the floor. “Since when did you become such a cheapskate?”

Everyone, including Malleus, did a sharp intake of breath as soon as the words passed the cat’s mouth. Everyone turns their head towards you, awaiting your reaction to Grim’s comment. This isn’t the first time Grim has gotten lippy with you and, given his nature as a mischievous little monster (a common trait between Ramshackle’s residents, Malleus is now noticing), it won’t be his last no matter how badly you scare or pull a fast one under his clawed feet. Even when your face is all puffy and wet with semi-dried tears, the look of “oh you’re in it now” is still so panic-inducing to everyone, ghosts, and feline alike. To the sole Fae present, he thinks of you as nothing short of adorable and wants nothing more than to wipe your messy face clean.

“Well, if you want more sugar there is one way you can get some more.”

“W-W-What is it?” Grim says, pudgy body shaking and sinking into the comfort and small safety of his fuzzy robe.

You approach him and bend down to grab him by the back of his neck, lifting him so he’s at your eye level before deadpanning, “Get a job, Make some money, and then buy your own.”

Once you set Grim down, he scrambles back into the home with an almost comical amount of fear in his eyes. He screams about how he’s never getting a job even if it kills him and his continued determination to find the small money vault you have hidden around the dorm and spend it all on canned tuna. Johnny, Frankie, and you all give a unison chant of good luck to him before he disappears completely.

“Has he made any progress in his search?” Malleus asks.

“Our money vault isn’t even in the house, so no,” Johnny answers, resulting in you and Frankie cackling and high-five one another.

With the power back on, you announce that it was time for a well-deserved break. It’s your turn to make breakfast and you immediately begin to ask everyone for their preferences. Frankie cuts you off and insists he take over your duties for the day. You normally would protest and insist to whoever was offering to cover for you it wasn’t a problem for you at all. “I enjoy doing [insert chore], so it’s fine!” is your usual go-to reasoning, but not this time.

Malleus notices the way you make to protest as usual, but you quickly back down and just let Frankie go ahead inside to take over for you. In normal Ramshackle fashion, Frankie mentions the cigar you were puffing and waving around earlier and says that you owe him another one, particularly an artisanal one that he’s recently read about in the local newspaper and has been aching to try.

“You got any more highly specific goods you want me to fight tooth and nail for?” you sneer.

“No, just the cigar will do,” he says before turning around to head back inside. Before he can close the door behind him all the way he pulls it back and says, “If you get it sometime this week I’ll buy a new bag of sugar.”

You whisper an impressive string of curses under your breath. Malleus has to restrain the urge to laugh at your colorful vocabulary.

“In that case, I hope your schedule is free tomorrow night. I’ll have it by then.”

Frankie gives you a thumbs up before heading back inside. Once the door behind him clicks shut, you turn towards Malleus and he physically feels his body shift from somewhat relaxed to stiff and proper. You notice this and crinkle your nose a bit, something to do when you find something endearing or as a way of silently giggling. Malleus watches with such an unnecessary amount of focus as you reach up to adjust his straw hat and wipe a bit of dirt off the collar of his shirt.

“I’m sorry for leaving you hanging back there,” you say as you pick off a stray leaf that somehow got tangled in his dark locks. “I’m also sorry you had to see me crying like that. I’ve just been so tired lately.”

There it is again. That damn twisting ache right in his heart.

“It’s fine,” he reassures you. “But if it isn’t too rude of me to ask, is your lack of sleep really all that’s wrong with you?”

You give out a long sigh. “I’m guessing Grim told you a bit of what’s been happening since winter break?”

“He has.”

Your arms cross and the ground suddenly becomes more interesting. You’re unsure, but the way your eyebrows press together is a sign that you’re conflicted. Malleus feels his frostbitten hands accumulate a layer of sweat as you silently mull over your thoughts. Despite the pain and hesitance in his heart, he wills himself to grasp you by the arm and pull you into an awkward hug. He knows it’s not exactly what you might need at the moment, and he was fully preparing you to push him away. He’s relieved when you bring your arms around his torso and reciprocate the embrace.

“I’m tired,” you sigh

“You haven’t been resting well, so it makes sense.“

“No,” you shake your head, the tips of your hair tickling Malleus’s neck. “It’s not just a lack of sleep that’s making me feel exhausted. After what happened with Scarabia, especially with Jamil, I don’t feel safe anymore.”

“Are you afraid?” he asks. To think of you as fearful is an entirely foreign concept for him when you’ve only ever been confident and certain of yourself since the first time he met you.

“Yeah, I am,” you admit without skipping a beat.

Considering what you told him, Malleus thinks your fear is justified. You have no defense against magic…

He fills a strain in his neck as his entire body suddenly seized up. You notice this and pull away to ask him what’s wrong. “Nothing,” he quickly dismisses, but you don’t let him go silent on you.

“If,” he hesitates. He’s thinking too rashly already, yet he’s still so compelled to act upon his thoughts. “Should anyone attempt to do you harm, I swear upon my name and title that I will do whatever it takes to protect you.”

He means every word, but you seem to take it far too casually than he would have liked. You press your face against his shoulder and laugh against his skin, your breath bringing him some much-needed temporary warmth. Such an ordinary action, yet it causes another pang within his heart. It settles next to the one that arose before, but he bites his tongue and endures it for your sake.

“Maybe you could play that electric violin for whoever comes after me,” you jest.

As embarrassing as it is to hear that you know about that incident (he’ll have to reprimand Lilia for telling you about that), he can’t help but laugh along with you. If making a bunch of teenagers’ foam from the mouth amuses you, then so be it.

“Thank you for offering to get your hands dirty for my sake,” you say. “That’s one thing I respect about you. You take care of the people you care for.”

His body goes still once again. “Is that right?” is all his mind can wrap around and say.

“Yes, oh Wise and Great Lord Malleus. I do, in fact, respect you.”

He cringes at that title. It’s something he has heard Sebek try to enforce you to refer to Malleus as, which you never do purely so you can get a rise out of his loyal guard. Before he can ask you to never call him that again, a bunch of howl’s ring out, and the two of you pull away from each other. The wolf’s howling is usually a sign that food is ready, which you seem rather eager to get to as you interlock your arm with his and drag him inside with you.

He looks back at his basket of still dirty vegetables. “What about-“

“It’s alright! I’m not throwing a fuss over a few broccoli heads!”

Crispy bacon, over easy and scrambled eggs, and a mountain of sizzling hash browns. Once everyone grabs a plate and sits down at the dining table (Malleus sticks close to you, hoping he can sit next to you), they grab whatever pieces of food they want in whichever quantity. Somewhere in the next room over, a faint melody plays through the speaker of an old record player. The vintage singer has a rather cheeky attitude in her vocals but with the accompanying music, it all comes together harmoniously. It’s perfect for a rather excitable breakfast.

It seems you never told the ghosts too many details about your sudden disappearance during the break. You downplay the true extent of your dilemma as you willingly giving your time and effort to help a desperate Jamil figure out what was causing his normally kind dorm leader to have a sudden personality switch. The ghosts listen carefully, and as you gradually get to the big climax that is Jamil’s betrayal and overblot, followed by Malleus’s sudden appearance, they’re all practically hanging on the edge of their seats. Your tale even intrigues the wolves and Blossom. They gather and settle near the legs of your chair, ushering you to continue your story by whining and scratching your ankle.

You don’t exaggerate Malleus’s part in your tale, something he greatly appreciates. You tell them how things happened just as they did: Grey clouds suddenly covering the sky and the occasional peak of lightning through their fogginess. Just when it seems like Jamil has the upper hand and is going to put an end to Grim and you, as well as Jade, Floyd, and Azul of Octavinelle, Malleus appears out of nowhere and effortlessly zaps the blot right out of the vice dorm leader of Scarabia.

“That deserves some praise,” Benjamin, the third of your ghostly residents, raises his half-filled mug of coffee and extends it towards the middle of the table. “To Malleus!”

Everyone, including you and Grim, raises your glasses and repeats his chant. “To Malleus!”

“To me, I suppose,” Malleus half-heartedly raises his own cup. “It really wasn’t much effort, or any praise really.”

He catches you looking at him in his peripheral and he feels a lump form in this throat that he immediately swallows. “I simply did what I believed you would have done for me if our positions were reversed.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” you say after swallowing a hefty mouthful of scrambled eggs. “But it’s nice knowing you have my back. It makes me feel safe.”

“Safe?” Malleus is surprised to hear you say this, considering what you told him earlier. “I make you feel safe?”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised. “Y-Yeah. I guess you do.”

“You guess?”

“You do,” you say, more definitively this time. “I promise. If you didn’t you’d know.”

He can’t help but laugh. “I can only imagine what interacting with you would be like then.”

“Probably not that good, or not at all. I steer clear of people I don’t particularly like.”

His eyebrows raise in intrigue as he sips his now lukewarm coffee. “What makes you dislike someone?”

“I dislike people I have no respect for,” you say casually. Malleus thinks you might be joking or poking fun at him, but how you take the time to look up to him while you busy yourself with feeding Gunter a few bits of bacon clearly means you’re trying to tell him something secretly. It’s definitely something along the lines of, “I don’t know where this mindset of me not respecting you came from, but it’s a load of bullshit and you need to get that thought out of your head.”

Even within his head, your language is still so vulgar and blunt. Only you would talk to him in such a rude manner.

But he respects that part about you.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst malleus #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst writing #fanfic: courtship #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #gender neutral reader

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