#this was difficult to write! thank you again to everyone who asked about the status and for waiting on this update :') | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oncewhenalongtimeago · 1 year

Note

Hi! Sorry for my bad English, it's not my first language and I hope it's understandable :(

Anyway, I love how you write about Hiccup and look forward to the continuation of "Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot" (If there is continuation) <3

Well, I do not know what your conditions are, but I would ask something related to Hiccup have a huge crush on Y/n and he end up accidentally confessing his feelings for her. Thank you !❤

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 3

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1934

After things get dicey you share a little bit of your future knowledge.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Dragons: Riders of berk, When Lightning Strikes

The thing about getting jointly kidnapped with Hiccup by Meatlug was that people also gave you credit. Fortunately for you, as the months went on and after the hassle of Snoggletog, people stopped congratulating you on the street and you fizzled out into blessed anonymity, just the way you liked it, and life went back to your new normal.

You’d been avoiding going into town since summer hit, which was lightning storm season, boy was it rough, and everyone had started putting up large metal objects. You could practically feel the buzz of electricity, the hairs on your neck standing on end. However, you couldn’t avoid everyone forever, though you made one hel of an effort.

Hesitantly, you knocked on the forge window, package in hand. Over the counter was Hiccup, with a rag, doing some scrubbing over what looked like a very large, very crude statue of who you’d come to know in the island as Thor.

“Delivery!” You called, with as much good humor as you could muster, “Hi.”

The way into the forge was open as it usually was. You scuffed your feet in the dirt and looked back and forth, as if someone would jump out at you and tell you you weren’t allowed to go in. When no one appeared magically to tell you off, which might have been difficult considering the clearing behind you was empty, you slipped inside.

“Hi,” You said again, closer to Hiccup this time. Hiccup himself startled, looking back like you’d caught him in some sort of foul act.

“Hi. Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi,” He said, shoulders stiff, “How are you- I mean, what brings you here?”

You creased your eyebrows, before deciding to ignore his weird behavior.

“...What are you working on?” You asked, peering around him at the statue with only minor dread. It would probably be just another thing to avoid until the end of summer, yeah, but it looked pretty cool.

“Uh- statue!” He deepended his voice unnaturally and cleared his throat, “Hoping to appease Thor, you know. The works.”

Hiccup not-so-casually leaned on the statue, though you didn’t find it very odd as everyone in the village was acting the same way recently. Something about the perches, which wasn’t very surprising. You’d seen a mob go by earlier, ranting something angrily about dragons. You weren’t super familiar with many of the plots past the movies but you hoped you hadn’t changed anything vital.

“How come?” A small part of you hoped the statue wasn’t some sort of secret you’d stumbled onto by accident. That would be bad news, and very counterproductive.

“You’ve heard about what’s been going on recently, right?” Hiccup deflated.

You shook your head no, setting down the small brown paper wrapped parcel onto a nearby workbench.

“Well, uh,” He started nervously, A line of sweat gathered by his brow, “Since the storms hit, lightning started hitting the perches. It’s been following Toothless around, and everyone;s been saying it’s because of him, so the other Riders and I- they were here earlier- we built the statue.”

He looked incredibly put out and tired, the same way you’d been around Snoggletog.

“If he’s the Offspring of Lightning and Death then why would, you know, the lightning go for him?” You offered, cringing, “It doesn’t make sense.”

You’d done your best to stay out of the dragon politics. It was hard to take seriously, given your background. And, also, everyone got a little bit heated whenever the subject was brought up, which usually ended in blood. Double also, as an outlier who was quite literally very disconnected from the situation, you had a lot of odd and unpopular opinions. So, yeah, you avoided it. But now, looking at him, you kind of felt bad.

“I mean, I’m not trying to sound blasphemous or anything, but also then theoretically shouldn’t the Gods have shot you down earlier? There are better ways to have done you in, probably. And still get the message across. I don’t know.”

You paused, and when he didn’t react, you hesitantly continued, despite every instinct shouting at you not to.

“Either way, setting up more metal is kind of a dangerous way to go about it, isn’t it?” You shuffled your feet nervously, “Would probably be best to take them down?”

Maybe then you could run around town more often.

“What do you mean?” Hiccup looked a little scandalized. Definitely blasphemous. There was no going back now, though.

“I mean, metal attracts lighting. So it doesn’t matter who you’re trying to appease. You’re probably just going to get your signals mixed.”

You didn’t say any more on the subject. Probably wouldn’t be helpful to say that most people in the modern day didn’t believe in the Norse Gods. You were so going to get axed.

“What do you mean?” He asked again, still staring at you blankly.

“Lighting is usually attracted to tall objects, but if there’s metal in the area, it’ll go to that. Learned it in elementary.”

“Elementary,” Hiccup mouthed, confused. The thing about being in the past and being able to speak two languages, one of which didn’t even exist yet, was that you could say whatever word you wanted and no one would get it. That was also a downside, in multiple different aspects.

“Anyways,” You stuttered, unwilling to explain that, “There’s a thing people used to set up by their houses back home so lightning wouldn’t hit their houses when it got stormy. A metal rod or something. The perches are probably, ah- the statue’s good. If you gave it to her, Gothi might appreciate it. I mean, she does live on top of the mountain. Would probably keep her from getting struck, you know?”

“Are you sure?” Hiccup asked. He looked like a dog who’d just gotten a bone.

“About Gothi?” You asked, rubbing the back of your neck, “I mean…”

You paused, rolling up and down the balls of your feet and looked around, unsure of what you were supposed to say.

“Am I going to get in trouble for being in here? I don’t want to-” You turned back around. Hiccup was gone.

Gobber had just walked by you shaking his head at the sky, seemingly blind to your appearance.

You looked left and right at the dispersing crowd, wondering what was going on as you began to slog your way through. Everyone, as they left, seemed sort of disinterested and annoyed.

At the front of the crowd was Hiccup, looking incredibly singed and dazed from where he was on the docks. His father, the Chief, and Astrid, were nearby. Astrid had just begun to leave. Stoick, it seemed, was finishing up a hardy lecture and scolding.

You decided to wait politely until he was finished and ogling at the small array of large and small metal rods until the Chief left. Perhaps that was what had drawn you outwards. You’d heard rather than seen a pretty big commotion earlier, which led you down the cliffs despite your ultimate resolution to stay out of everyone else’s crazy business. Some things were just unavoidable. Or unignorable. Curiosity was a part of human nature, after all.

“Oh,” Hiccup said, once the two of you were left mostly alone, besides the occasional straggling fisherman, “Hi.”

“You made all this?” You said. You put the pieces together fairly quickly, “That’s really cool.”

“Couldn’t have done it…” He mumbled, “Without your help.”

“You probably would have figured it out on your own,” You suggested wearily. His eyes were sort of glazed over, like hw wasn’t completely there, which set alarm bells ringing in your head, “Hey, are you alright?”

Hiccup stumbled forwards, roughly tugging your hands into his own before he picked them up, grinning widely. His hands were oddly hot to the touch and his left hand was red in a pattern that looked sort of like worms.

“I think I love you,” He declared. It looked like he was going to lean forward for a second, before stumbling backwards and collapsing onto the wood dock.

“What happened…?” Hiccup uttered exhaustedly, cradling his bandaged head.

He looked around groggily, slowly taking in the grassy dried herb smell of Gothi’s hut and the bowls of spices and bones lining the walls

You were seated on a stool by the bedside, currently his, probably Gothi’s when there were no patients around.

“You collapsed. So I, uh, I pulled you up here. How are you feeling?” You asked cautiously, wrinkling your brows.

“Uh, hi?” Hiccup’s eyes widened, flushed like he was embarrassed, “I’m good. I’m so good.”

Hiccup tried to lean back, though the heavy bandaging wrapped around his lightning-scarred arm prevented him from doing that safely. His expression stiffened and he looked down, eyeballing his ruined sleeves.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” You said, “I couldn’t understand what Gothi was saying and we kind of had to cut your sleeve off to get to your arm. The lightning kind of burned it weird too, and it was sticking to your skin, so yeah.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Hiccup scratched at his cheek with his alright arm, looking a little bit bummed out, “I have more at home.”

“Well, yeah, maybe, but-” You sighed, a little put off, “Anyways, I didn’t have enough to pick up anything nice but a bunch of people heard and helped me pitch in for a new shirt.”

You nodded down to the red tunic laying on the bed by his foot. It wasn’t his signature green but they didn’t really have that, which was unfortunate because red dyed fabric was expensive. Hopefully he’d be out of it soon and in his normal wear. It was going to be weird seeing him in red.

“Oh, wow.” Hiccup said, “Really?”

“Oh, sorry,” You said, after your knuckles scraped each other. You met him halfway with the tunic and pulled it taut when he tried to unfurl it with one hand, so the whole thing was on display.

“Th-anks,” Hiccup said, as if a spare piece of food had gotten stuck in his throat.

You responded with an unhurried “No Problem,” as he gave it a once-over.

After a moment, he let it down and you took the signature to let go as he clumsily folded it again, leaving it to sit in his lap over the old, scratchy blanket Gothi had provided.

“Yeah,” Hiccup mumbled, squinting, after a moment, “What… exactly happened? I mean, I have a few memories, but it’s all really blurry. I remember- I- Uh-”

Hiccup shut up.

You winced.

“Yeah, you, ah, got struck by lightning, I think. Unfortunately. But you did prove Toothless was innocent, so there’s that.”

“Yeah?” Hiccup very studiously examined the wall to his left.

“By the way,” You started him, “You said something before you fell unconscious.”

Hiccup laughed nervously, “Nothing weird?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t really learned the word in Norse yet.” You said, shifting in the stool, which was just starting to make your back ache.

“Learned-? Uh,” Very decidedly, Hiccup shut his eyes. His face said exactly what he was thinking, which was ‘Oh Gods,’ “What did I say?”

“What does ‘love’ mean?” You stared at him, question in your eyes. Hiccup opened his mouth once, then closed it, then he opened it again.

It looked like he was having some sort of battle with himself. You decided that maybe you should leave him alone about it for now. And rightly so, because instead of answering, Hiccup decided to lay back down and roll back towards the wall.

#thank you #very much #maybe I will find another way to fill eventually #please have this for now #any conditions for an ask are okay #if there is something I am not comfortable writing i will say it #httyd #x reader #how to train your dragon #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #female reader #fem reader #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #toothless

119 notes · View notes

tvmicroscope · 1 year

Note

Hello again. I know you will send an email when a new post comes up but I am here checking anyway. Another question/comment. When Wilhelm visits our favorite therapist for the first time, he's wearing a VERY EXPENSIVE sweatshirt with a small heart with eyes on it. Is he signaling to the therapist his status/wealth? Is he 'wearing his heart on his sleeve' (chest)? There are brands on clothing sprinkled throughout but that sweatshirt stood out to me. And we never see it again. makes you wonder...

Thank you very much for your kind ask.

If it’s okay, I’m going to answer the question about Wilhelm’s clothes below and first reply to your question about my substack project.

My most recent post would be the one about the ‘Clementine’ Metaphor. (I don’t know if you’ve read that one. If you have and I’m somehow mixing something up, please forgive me. It’s hard to keep track of everyone.)

The ‘Clementine’ Metaphor post deals with the question of why there are so many satsumas/clementines/tangerines associated with Simon (and with a surprising number of other characters) and what they all mean.

As for any new posts, I’m currently working on two posts at the same time:

One will be a regular post (free for everyone to read) on yet another metaphor

One will be a paid-subscribers-only post

Please rest assured that the overwhelming majority of my substack articles on ‘Young Royals’ will remain FREE for everyone to enjoy, read, discuss and comment on. I will also NEVER retroactively paywall anything that’s currently free and I will never paywall the comment button. (I find a lot of this paywalling thing really, really weird, to be quite frank.)

The only (!) exception to not paywalling anything will be the occasional bonus post for my paid subscribers (basically a post every couple of weeks as a little dessert treat for them). I will make sure that these bonus posts are both a bit different and outside the usual chain of argument, so people who only read the free ones won’t feel like they are missing out on anything. Nobody should feel that there are any weird gaps in the chain of metaphors we’re discussing. There won’t be any missing links in the chain, so to speak. The bonus posts will be strictly additional info.

(Phew, I feel I should maybe make this a separate post and pin it at the top of my tumblr as soon as I work out how to do that.:D)

Anyway, as I said, I’m currently working on two things. I hope to get them both posted over the weekend, but one or the other might be a couple of days late. (It’s difficult to write two things at the same time.)

Now, as for your question about Wilhelm’s hoodie in that therapy scene…

Just so we’re on the same page, we’re talking about this one here, right?

You know…that is a great, great question!:) And you’ve got very sharp eyes because this, indeed, is a deeply meaningful costuming choice! This hoodie is a visual metaphor.

And no, I don’t think it has anything to do with the old saying about ‘wearing one's heart on one's sleeve’. If anything Wilhelm is doing quite the opposite in that scene: He’s not opening up to his therapist. We can see that both in the metaphorical subtext (remember the ‘Clementine’ metaphor: there is a whole bowl of unpeeled clementines in the therapist’s office in that scene, and it tells us that nothing is okay in that sense) and in the plain text (in the literal layer of the script): Wilhelm doesn’t want to open up. He’s not ready for that step yet.

(As I pointed out in the ‘Clementine’ metaphor article, though, there’s also a single apple placed among all the clementines in that bowl, and seeing as apples are symbols signifying temptation, I’d say that Wilhelm is at least tempted to say something…somewhere in the back of his mind.)

Anyway, so the heart on his chest is definitely not so much about ‘wearing your heart on your sleeve’, it simply means that Wilhelm is here because his problem relates to the heart. It’s because of ‘matters of the heart’ that he ended up in the therapists office, in the first place. In other words, it’s the fact that he loves a boy, but isn’t allowed to love him.

Which leads me to the next point: Why is this hoodie a visual metaphor?

Well, because it shows us more than just the heart image on Wilhelm’s chest. It also tells us what awful, horrible contradiction, what polarity, what faultlines there are in Wilhelm’s life: The hoodie is expensive, insanely expensive as a matter of fact. It reeks of wealth and privilege and high status and everything that makes it so impossible for Wilhelm to pursue that relationship with said boy that he loves. In other words, the hoodie is a contradiction in and of itself – just like Wilhelm’s life at that point, his emotional inner life, his psychological outlook on life, his mental health related life, his love life. In all of that, there’s a contradiction between the heart (the things that he actually wants) and the wealth/privilege (his background that forces him to deny himself these exact things). And he wears that contradiction on his very body, i.e. it’s plain for the therapist to see; it’s obvious, and Wilhelm carries is everywhere with him, wherever he goes, stands, sits or lies: it’s written all over him.

And all of that is encompassed in just one piece of clothing, which makes this hoodie a really good visual metaphor and an excellent costuming choice.

Anyway, thank you again for dropping by. I very much appreciate your kind words. My inbox is always open for lovely asks such as yours. Thank you for reading and letting me know you enjoy what I write.:)

#young royals #wilmon #wilhelm x simon #prince wilhelm #young royals analysis

42 notes · View notes

max-as-hell · 2 years

Note

Bestie when's the book

Hey there!

For everyone who followed me & T3S back in 2017 (and is, for some reason, still around), here's my long-overdue update on the status of T3S!

Some background: I wrote a moderately popular Max/Preston camp camp fic several years ago called "The Sparrow Still Sings." T3S followed a 24-year-old Max as he returns to Camp Campbell to be a counselor.

About a year after I finished the fic, I decided that it was a good enough story to potentially publish. I wanted to go the traditional route--which meant querying agents and hoping to find a print publisher. This also meant that the story could no longer exist on AO3. For that reason, I deleted it. It was a difficult decision to make--especially since I knew that quite a few people in the fandom really enjoyed it.

But being a published author was something that I'd wanted since I was a kid, so I decided to go through with it. I revised the entirety of T3S, taking care to change any copyrighted material within it. Then, I went off to query.

While I did get one full manuscript request (which, let's be real, is probably more than I deserved) I mostly received rejections. Automated rejections.

I tried rewriting T3S several times, but despite my best efforts, I never really managed to fix the things that were fundamentally wrong with the story and the writing. Turns out, I wasn't good enough writer at 18 to be published (shocker, I know).

So what now?

Recently, spurred on by a kind DM, I decided to take one last crack at T3S. The story needs some fundamental reworking--which means it's going to take some time to write up a new draft. BUT the good news is this: I'm no longer considering a traditional publishing route. Once the story is finished, it WILL be indie published. And, as a thank-you to everyone who read it back when it was a fic, I'm going to provide a tumblr-exclusive code for y'all to access a digital version of the published work for FREE.

In the meantime, I'll be active on this blog again with updates about how the story's progressing + the revision process + posting teasers of my favorite new lines and scenes. & of course, I'll probably end up watching the seasons of Camp Camp that I've missed. Feel free to ask me any questions; I'd be happy to answer them :)

Thank you to everybody for your patience! I know it sucks when an author takes down a fic, so I hope that with this post, I can begin to make it up to y'all!

#thank you for the ask! i've been meaning to respond to it but wasnt sure how until recently #t3s #asks #the sparrow still sings #maxpres #camp camp

20 notes · View notes

heliads · 2 years

Note

can i request with one with the twins (i dont mind which one) where the other twin dares them to go out with reader, but the twin actually falls in love with her, but the reader finds out

angst with a happy ending <3

(thank you)<33

ok first of all this trope <33 also this was such a fun fic to write

masterlist

This might be the easiest ten galleons Fred Weasley has ever won in his life. The job is so easy, in fact, that it’s got him suspicious. The whole situation is no less suspicious due to the fact that it’s being set up by his twin brother, and if there was ever anyone more inclined to trick someone than Fred, it’ll be George. That’s the way it always has been.

So, it should come as no surprise that Fred is a little hesitant about the whole thing. Just to clarify, he runs the plan by his brother one last time.

“Let me get this straight. You’re willing to give me ten whole galleons if I go out with a girl? Why would that ever be a problem?”

George chuckles. “It’s not just any girl, Freddie. We’re talking about Y/N L/N.”

This does, admittedly, make the whole thing a little more difficult. Y/N is notorious for basically being a Gryffindor in name only. Whereas the rest of the house has an affinity for sticking together, Y/N is the boldest and most brash of them all. She walks with who she pleases, she does what she wishes and makes everyone wonder why the hell she isn’t a Slytherin for all her confidence and ambition.

She’s also one of the prettiest girls in Gryffindor, which makes her standoffishness even worse. Many boys have tried and failed before Fred to win her affections, but few have been able to even talk with her long enough to pose the question of a date, and fewer still have walked away with enough pride to be able to tell their friends about it.

Basically, this task is herculean, although Fred still isn’t sure why George cares enough to place such a bet on it.

“And why, again, is this something you’re interested in? Any chump can ask Y/N for a date, that’s not worth the galleons.” He says.

George leans forward, evidently enjoying Fred’s bewilderment. “Precisely. That’s why you have to go on three dates. One to prove that you can actually manage it, two to make sure the first one wasn’t a fluke, and a third to confirm that you’ve actually broken through to her. Three. No more, no less.”

Fred frowns. “What’s the point of all this, then? Sure, it would be fun to break L/N’s streak of ignoring the rest of us, but I don’t get why you want me to do it.”

George’s face sours. “She hasn’t been pleasant to me recently. I overheard her talking to one of her friends about how our latest prank was so foolish a first year could have seen through it. I want to prove that she’s not as omniscient as she thinks.”

Fred blinks in surprise. He doesn’t usually hear his brother so vengeful, but then again, they take their pranks far more seriously than anyone expects. It’s their one claim to fame, their one way to get ahead of the rumors about their family’s financial status, the one thing that separates them from the redheaded masses of their other siblings. Without the pranks, they’d be nothing. No wonder George is still bitter.

Still, ten galleons is ten galleons, and Fred isn’t about to turn that down. He sticks out his hand before he can second guess himself, and George shakes it just as fast.

“Here we go,” Fred says, trying to convince himself that this is a good idea, “Three dates. Wish me luck.”

As it turns out, Fred is going to need a lot of luck. He wasn’t kidding when he said that Y/N is cold to anyone who isn’t her friend. He’s scarcely talked to her twice during their entire time at Hogwarts, so it’s not like he’s starting out from a great point. Well, at least he isn’t her enemy. That’s all he’s got at the moment.

Thus, Fred launches his first effort in what will be known as the greatest struggle of all time, at least to George and himself. Fred takes a day or so to map out his approach, and from there, it’s all about timing. The first encounter comes on a dreary morning, with one of the classes Fred shares with Y/N.

Y/N certainly does look surprised when Fred slides her a mug of something across the table in their dimly lit Divination table, but he supposes that’s to be expected.

She peers in at the darkly caffeinated contents. “Is this–”

Fred cuts her off cheerfully. “Coffee? Yes, it is. I know it wasn’t on the tables for breakfast this morning, and if we’re going to fake our way through this morning’s predictions, I figure we’d best be running at our fullest potential.”

Y/N arches a brow. “Why would you bring me coffee?”

He has technically just explained himself, but Fred knows what she’s getting at. If it weren’t for their random partner assignment this morning (which, as it turns out, was not random at all, Trelawney just leaves her notes in conveniently accessible places), they would never talk at all, much less bring each other drinks.

Still, it’s nice, and being nice is one of the first steps towards getting someone to like you. He grins again, and feels faintly relieved when one of the corners of Y/N’s mouth twitches up in response.

“Although I know for a fact that we’re all just in this class because it requires the least brainpower in the mornings,” Fred offers, “failing Divination would actually be humiliating. I haven’t got any imagination, so I’m going to need you to bring everything you’ve got for today’s graded prophecy.”

Y/N looks suspicious, although he notices that she takes a sip of the proffered coffee first. “I’m sure you’ve got imagination in spades, what with all those pranks.”

He’s not sure if her tone is judgmental or not, but Fred has to work with what he’d got. “Oh, you’d be surprised. We’ve run through almost all of our ideas and we’re desperate for new content.”

Y/N laughs incredulously, which causes a few students at neighbouring tables to look over at them in surprise. Clearly, Fred’s already doing a killer job at winning her over. “You guys can’t seriously be running out of ideas. I don’t believe that.”

Fred widens his eyes in mock horror. “Believe it indeed. I’m actually starting to panic over the whole thing. Say, maybe you could help me out on that front.”

Y/N scoffs. “You can’t actually think that I would know a thing about pranks.”

Fred shrugs as casually as he can. “I don’t know. Maybe you’ve never given it a chance.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, although Fred swears she’s hiding a smile. “Wonder why that would be.”

When the end of the class rolls around, though, they’re doing better. They’ve been talking almost the entire time, to the point where Fred is willing to hurry up the timeline and bring up his offer to talk through prank ideas once again, say, later at the library. He’s stunned when Y/N says yes, although no more so than George.

George, who all but falls over in shock when Fred triumphantly sweeps into the boys’ dorm room and announces that he’s already gotten Y/N to agree to their first date. George tries to argue out of it, saying that it’s just at the library and therefore not a date at all, but it’s not like Hogwarts students have anywhere else to go except the grounds, so eventually he’s forced to accept the truth that Fred is doing far better than either of them expected.

Fred leaves for the library later that day, but only after telling George that he’d better start coming up with those galleons, because the chances that he’s winning this dare have suddenly started skyrocketing.

He’s half afraid that Y/N will come to her senses and not show up to the library at all, but he’s scarcely been waiting five minutes at a table in the back when she walks up to him, slinging her bag on the ground next to them as if the whole thing were nothing at all. Fred can feel a thousand eyes burning into his back from all the other occupants of the library, but he’s not about to let their shock ruin this date, because damn it, this is a date and he is winning this whole thing.

“Well?” Y/N asks, and belatedly Fred realizes that he’s been silent a little too long after all of his pleased contemplation. “How exactly does one plan out a prank?”

Grateful for the familiar topic of conversation, Fred settles back into his rhythm. “Well, it’s actually quite easy. All you have to do is figure out what sort of thing you want to do.”

“Really?” Y/N asks, the picture of surprise.

Fred swats her shoulder before he can stop himself, and he doesn’t know who’s more stunned, him, Y/N, or the other students nearby. Luckily, she just grins back at him, and he’s fine again.

“Yeah, really. Let me talk, will you? See, there are a few things you can do. The prank can be temporary, for one thing, like a spell that changes everyone’s hair a certain color for an hour, or it can be longer. Remember that time George and I turned all the stairs in the castle into rope ladders for six months? Man, that was so fun. ‘Course, half the school hated us for it, but it was still fun.”

When he looks up from his spiel, Y/N is smiling again. He’s starting to think that all of those rumors about her being a total ice queen are nothing but lies.

“I remember that thing about the rope ladders, it was great. People were just mad because they couldn’t climb to save their lives.” She says, and Fred feels his spirits rise.

“I know, right? It was fantastic. I didn’t realize you remembered,” he says a little quieter, because in truth he had no idea that she kept track of what pranks they did at all. George had made it seem like Y/N couldn’t care less about what the ineffable Weasley Twins came up with unless she was insulting them, but it doesn’t seem that way in the slightest.

Indeed, Y/N’s face is fond at the memory. “I remember a bunch of your pranks, but that one stood out the most. I didn’t like the hair color one at all, though. You chose a shade of aqua that was terrible for everybody.”

Fred chuckles. “That was the whole point. I thought all of our collective egos needed to be taken down a notch or two, and the prank did the trick.”

“Seems like your ego might still need repressing,” Y/N says, although she’s looking at him through a smile so bright that Fred’s ego doesn’t feel a thing.

Fred comes out of the supposed date feeling really good, actually. He’s trying to compare the Y/N he’s heard about for years with the Y/N he just spent more than two hours with, and they just don’t seem to match up. He enjoyed himself quite a bit, so much so that George comments on his stupid grin the second his twin sees him.

“You do realize that this is just a dare, right?” George says, which shuts down Fred’s mood immediately.

Fred scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Of course I do. Doesn’t mean that I can’t have fun, though. Would you prefer that I muddle through life with a funereal depression just because I have to talk to Y/N?”

George rolls his eyes. “Obviously not, I just guess I’m surprised. This is the girl who insulted us, right? That’s the whole reason we’re doing this.”

Fred nods along, but on the inside he can’t stop seeing Y/N laugh when they were brainstorming all the things they could do to the castle, and for the first time, he wonders if George has the right idea after all.

This conflict doesn’t disappear after the second date, either. Fred doesn’t believe his luck when Y/N agrees to sit with him out in the courtyard to talk again. This feels more like a real date, especially when it starts raining and they have to run back into the protective shade of the castle walls, shrieking from the beat of the water against their skin. Y/N pushes him out into the rain when Fred thinks he’s safe, so he tugs her out after him.

He thinks he’ll remember that moment forever, her howl of outrage after both of them get soaking wet despite their best attempts to avoid such a terrible fate. It’s only fair, he tries to reason with her, you forced me out first. This doesn’t mean that she doesn’t pretend to swear vengeance upon him forever, although she can scarcely get the words out between both of their bouts of laughter. Fred feels utterly golden, all up until the point when he tilts his head up and sees a figure with a red and gold scarf staring at them from one of the towers.

By the time Fred is certain of who it is, George has already disappeared back inside, but the damage is done. Fred can’t convince himself to get that playful spirit back, even when the rain picks up again and Y/N loops her arm through his to guide them back under the stone parapets. It’s just a forceful reminder of the one truth Fred has been trying his damndest to avoid: this is date two of three, and then he’s done.

Truth be told, Fred is lying to himself even more than he’s lying to Y/N. If he were actually willing to be honest with himself, he would say that he’s not just doing this for the dare, not anymore. He likes Y/N, he can admit that now, he likes the way she grins at him in this special way, how he’s never seen her smile like that at anyone else. He likes to think that he’s the special one to her, even if this is just an illusion he’ll have to break in a matter of days.

They’ve got their third date coming up, after all, the third and final one. There’s a trip to Hogsmeade coming up in a few days, and Fred swallowed the last of his regrets and asked Y/N out for real, no more hiding around casual conversation. She said yes in a heartbeat, and Fred almost choked on his guilt when it came time to give her the place where they should meet up.

It’s perfect, almost. They walk hand in hand to a coffee shop Fred found the last time he was here. It’s fitting, Y/N says, they started talking because of coffee and now they’re having coffee together at last. Fred laughs and changes the topic before he can start thinking about how much this is going to hurt to break it all off.

For break it off he must, after all, break it off or lose his brother. George all but presented Fred with that very ultimatum the night before the final date. He’ll still give Fred the galleons, but he has to end it now. It’s just a dare, after all, albeit a dare that has wrapped clawed fingers so deeply around Fred’s heart that he doesn’t know how to separate himself from the lies. It’s Y/N or his brother, and Fred has never been raised to choose anything but family, over and over until he ends up alone forever.

He lets himself enjoy today, though, traipsing through the walkways of Hogsmeade after the coffee. Fred doesn’t even need the caffeine to make his heart feel so full it could burst. Every small moment is a majesty that he’ll never get again, and Fred tries to make himself believe that she might not hate him after this ends.

Fred is trying to think about the best way to break the news to her when the first person comes up. Y/N is a few paces away, trying to read a sign on a nearby building when another Gryffindor arrives. Fred vaguely recognizes him as another boy from their year, but he doesn’t like the sight of the boy’s incredulous smirk.

“Is it true, Fred?” The boy asks. “You got Y/N to go out with you?”

Y/N is at the boy’s back, just out of his line of vision, but Fred has the perfect view as she stiffens in surprise.

He does his best to salvage the situation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The boy laughs, shoving Fred casually across the chest and making him stumble. “Of course you do! Man, that’s something. Who knows that Y/N L/N would have actually tolerated one of us after all. Those galleons were well earned. Wow.”

The boy leaves after a second, still faintly chuckling to himself. Fred is left to stare at Y/N, who has turned around to look directly at him. Her eyes are wide, haunted. She knows.

She asks, though, just to give him the last chance to absolve himself of all of this. “Is it true? What he said?”

Fred tries to think of some way to make this all seem better, but he can’t. There is no way this sounds good. In the end, all he can offer her is the truth.

“Yes,” he says, “it was, in the beginning. But it isn’t now, I swear, I don’t feel that way anymore. I like you, Y/N, I really do, and–”

She cuts him off, shaking her head frantically. “That can’t be true. I trusted you, Fred. Hell, I loved you. I knew not to believe any of you, because there isn’t a single person in this castle who doesn’t hate me for not being as simpering and friendly as you think I should be, but I thought you were different. All this time, you thought I was just worth a handful of galleons.”

Fred reaches out, trying to do anything to make her stay, but she just shoots him one last broken glance and leaves, disappearing out into the swirling snow. Fred doesn’t know that he has ever known a hurt as deep and cruel as this.

A voice from behind makes his blood grow even colder than before. “Don’t take it personally, Fred. She was going to find out eventually.”

Fred turns around slowly to find his twin brother staring back at him. “You did this, didn’t you?” Fred asks, his voice jagged. “You told people because you knew she’d find out from them and not me.”

George lifts a shoulder. “Actually, you did this when you agreed to the dare in the first place. I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to try and back out of telling her. Listen, don’t be mad, Freddie. I knew you were going to get too deep into this, but it’s over now. You never cared about her beforehand, anyway.”

George steps forward, dumping a stack of something into Fred’s hand. He only knows it to be the galleons by the clink of it against his gloved palm. Staring at the gold, though, all Fred can think is that it’s not enough, not nearly enough to have ruined all of this.

“I need you to know something, George,” Fred says roughly, “I don’t care how mad she made you when she talked about our pranks, but I will never forgive you for this. Yes, I agreed to the prank, but you took it too far by suggesting it in the first place and forcing her to find out like that. You’re my brother, and that means I’m supposed to be able to count on you when I can count on no one else. That wasn’t true today.”

George looks stunned, but Fred is already walking away, fighting or perhaps even welcoming the punishing bite of the wind. He doesn’t know how he could possibly find Y/N in all this mess, but perhaps the universe takes pity on him, because he stumbles upon her soon enough. She’s walking as fast as she can towards a quieter part of the town so she can be alone, but Fred’s long legs allow him to catch up quickly.

“Y/N, wait.” He calls out, but Y/N keeps going, the hunch of her shoulders the only sign that she might have heard him.

Fred jogs in front of her, forcing her to stop. “Listen to me, please? I know you don’t owe me anything, but please. This whole thing started awfully, and I have been terrible to break your trust like this. I’m sorry, and I always will be. I regret that I ruined my chance with you. You don’t deserve this. You could hate me forever, and that would be fair, but I would never forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to make this better.”

Y/N looks fiercely up at him, and Fred is startled by the sight of tears she’s unable to hold back. “And what, I’m supposed to believe that? How do I know that this isn’t just another dare? Break her heart, and you get even more money if you manage to delude her enough to come back?”

Fred shakes his head. “No, I wouldn’t do that. No more dares, Y/N, I swear. You don’t have to forgive me now, but I won’t stop trying to make up for this, however long it takes.”

Y/N lets out a shuddery sort of sigh. “And what about your brother? You can’t hate him, either.”

“I don’t like having to choose between you,” Fred says firmly, “but I’m choosing you. I can fix things with him later, but I need you most.”

She looks surprised by that, perhaps because the Weasley Twins have always been one nameless, inseparable entity and the thought that one of them might leave the other is enough to shake her out of her sadness.

“Really?” She asks, somewhat tentative.

“Really,” Fred answers, “if that’s what it takes. I do love you, Y/N. I need you to know that. It may not have started out that way, but it was real to me, too.”

She laughs at last, quiet and so unlike her usually cheerful laugh, but it’s a start. That’s all he needs, Fred realizes, a start. “Alright, then. I suppose it wouldn’t make much sense for you to come charging out here if you didn’t mean what you said.”

“I do,” Fred confirms, “I really do. You know that, don’t you?”

Y/N tilts her head back, considering this, considering him. “Yes,” she says at last, “I think I do.”

Fred has no idea how long it will take for her to fully forgive him, or even for him to fully forgive himself, for that matter. All he knows is that at least he’s been given a chance. He would do anything for that chance. It’s worth it to be able to keep loving her. George will forgive him eventually, they’ve been in tougher scrapes than this before, and then it will be all good. Fred will have his girl, and all will be well.

harry potter tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley oneshot #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshot #weasley twins #weasley twins imagines #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins oneshot #harry potter fred #harry potter fred imagines #harry potter fred x reader #harry potter fred oneshot

512 notes · View notes

anna-scribbles · 3 years

Text

update

hello babes!!! I thought I would pop on here and give a little update about my posting status as it has shifted a bit since my announcement a few months ago. the break has been so good for me in my personal life, and it was definitely the right decision. I do feel like I'm in a place where I can start using this blog again occasionally, but moving forward it will be a much lower priority than it used to be so I won't be posting art/reblogging as much as I did before. thank you everyone for being so understanding and encouraging!!

some people seemed to appreciate hearing about my faith in my announcement post so here is more of my experience in how God has worked in my life in the last few months if anyone is interested! love u all <33

I was reading in the book of Jude yesterday, and I was really struck by the three adjectives Jude addresses his readers by in verse 1. He writes, "To those who are called, beloved in God the Father and kept for Jesus Christ." Those words (called, beloved, and kept) are a really good summary of the way that God has treated me in these last few months.

I don't think I've ever felt God's calling on my life as strongly as I have in the last year. I never used to understand, when I was younger, what people meant when they said that God spoke to them. It always seemed too confusing to me--how can you know it's really God, and not just your own thoughts? How could you ever really be sure enough to act? It wasn't something I was able to comprehend until I experienced it.

When I look at my life now, it is impossible to understand what has happened outside of knowing that God has had His hand on it. I've felt Him impress on my heart His desires for me to do specific things--difficult things, things I didn't have the strength to do on my own. He's given me the faith to act on His promptings, and it's hard to even explain the freedom I've experienced in that. I used to be so filled with doubt about whether I'd ever actually have the kind of faith I saw in the people around me. I know now--that faith has always been available to me, I just wasn't always willing to put God first. I'm not free of doubt these days (I don't think I'll ever be), but I have just been filled with so much more faith that it's easier now to trust God will take care of me when He asks me to follow Him.

God has also been teaching me a lot about what it means to love and to be loved by Him. The word "beloved" is so powerful to me, because it is defining. It's an identifier, and a command: be loved. Live as someone who is loved by the God of it all. Beloved allows me to shed insecurities and to live outwardly, instead of focusing on myself. I don't have to worry anymore about building myself up or finding worth in what I can do. I am God's work in progress, not my own, and He is working. And the work is love.

The last word, kept, is the one that's been most important to me lately. When I look back on my life, and especially this last year, I am overcome with the understanding that God has protected me and kept me close to Him throughout it all. He has never stopped calling me, He's never stopped loving me, and He's never stopped keeping me. God has not saved me from death and left me to sort through the rest on my own; He is walking with me, calling me farther and keeping me close. I am so grateful for that.

thank you for letting me share a bit! I hope this might have been encouraging to you. my faith is the realest thing I have to offer so it's nice to be more transparent about it. if anyone wants to chat about any of this feel free to dm me! so much love to you!! <33

#she's back!!....ish #she will at least be sharing her opinions and feelings on cartoons a bit more often now sdjnksjdf #I hope everyone's been doing well I have been doing well!!!!#I know adrien hasn't been doing well.#but other than him #also I feel kinda silly making almost the same post that hamsternamedmarinette made like 1 day ago #we are really on the same wavelength with this huh #anyway hello. ksdfnjk #anna rambles #faith

330 notes · View notes

a-libra-writes · 2 years

Note

Hello! ✌️I wanted to let you know that everyday before going to bed I check to see how my fellow Libra is doing, and that you made me fall in love with Stannis (another one falls victim to his awkward mannerisms and hot sense of justice 😔👊) and Ned (... actually they're pretty similar on these fronts, maybe you made me discover a new favourite type??), but also Tywin (the complexity of this terrible cold man, istg) and Roose ( *chuckles* I'm in danger) You're officially the kind of writer that make me wants to read everything of theirs, even if I'm not in the fandom, so: thank you for your service!

I've never asked any request in my life, but your soulmates au live rent free in my mind and so, if you feel like it, I'd like you to expand on an idea...? I don't have much, but this: soulmate au with Tywin, post Joanna (set in whichever time period you think best, so if just few years after her death, or with Tyrion already grown up) and he discovers that this lady from a minor house (that isn't exactly in good relations with the Lannisters) is his soulmate. And I mean, he knew that Joanna wasn't, but honestly he could never expect to have a similar connection with somebody else but her, so he always ignored that, hoping neither of them would ever meet their "true" half. I expect he would almost resent this, especially if he found in her something that made him admit she is a good match, but would he give up such a thing, anyway? Depending on the soulmate au you choose it might even not be his choice: if everyone see their connection and there is a certain expectation, nevermind if now she's a possible weakness to get to him through the bond they share.

As I've said it's just an idea. Obv ignore if it doesn't tell you anything/there's something you don't like/you don't want to! Thank you for your attention, and once again I must tell you how lovely is your writing, how adorable are your fluffy pets and how dear you are! Coming to this blog feels everytime like coming home ☺️

Sorry if I did any mistakes, English is clearly not my first language and since now that I found my courage it's likely I'll write to you again (if you don't mind ofc), so to distinguish me I can be your Milkyway anon🥛🛤️ (I'm sorry I had to! 😔😌) I actually have no preference: call me as you wish, I'll know which name to take lmao

Have a good day/night!!

first thank you for all the kind words!!! Im always pleased when I drag others into my Stannis hell >:)

So this is a very interesting concept! I did a lot of chewing on it and I have Some Thoughts

So starting from the top, Joanna and Tywin knew they weren't soulmates. They didn't care; they were close from a young age (childhood friends, imo) and they knew their duties and place. Stories and poems of soulmates uniting and having a Happily Ever After were just as common as tragedies where soulmates determined to be together started wars and destroyed entire Houses. The history of Westeros is already bloody and fraught with war. So, like many Highborn lords and ladies, they were expected to ignore it. And anyway, the ability to actually meet your soulmate is difficult in a society where there's no internet, instant messaging, etc.

(Now obviously all this depends on what sort of soulmate AU you're imagining, bc there's so many and they're generally not AUs I'm invested in anyway, but I digress)

Besides, Joanna and Tywin were very in love. For Tywin, cynical as he was, he believed all the talk and absurdity about soulmates obviously wasn't true. Or at least, people placed too much importance on it. For Joanna, she was content. She was in love and happily married and loved her two children. Who was she to go looking for some stranger, whom she didn't even know the identity or age or status of? The two of them were so in sync, they probably didn't even talk about it. They just silently had the same thought - who cares?

Again, depending on what soulmate AU you believe in - like, some say you know when the soulmate dies - the fact nothing happened when Joanna died felt cruel. Tywin still had a mark, or perhaps thoughts, or couldn't see color - again again, theres so many - and somehow... it's like the gods were telling him that she didn't matter. There's no grand change, because she wasn't "The One." He already dismissed the gods before. After Joanna's death and Tyrion's birth, he truly resented them.

Tywin is so used to purposefully ignoring the soulmate business, pushing it aside, that it becomes second nature. Many believed Joanna was his soulmate, though neither of them confirmed or denied that rumor. Perhaps even his children believed it. He never speaks of it, anyway. And if this is an AU where there's a specific mark, naturally he would hide it. It would become like an ugly scar, an imperfection he doesn't look at and ignores.

(More interestingly - if this is a lady who appeared to him when he was much older and she was younger, a soulmate mark/"tell" might appear in the middle of his marriage to Joanna. There was something annoying about his soulmate being some child and later some woman who would be half his age. Joanna actually found it amusing).

Moving on. A situation where he comes into contact with a Lady and she's "the one" - the one all those damned poems and songs are written about - it might actually silence him. Perhaps she doesn't even speak to him. He just knows when she walks into the room. And perhaps, there's that realization that she might have known before him.

(Imagine, depending on your favored soulmate AU, some poor woman finding out Tywin fucking Lannister is destined to her. What's worse; that it's while he's married? Or after Robert's Rebellion? If she's of a minor house, or a Great one? Hiding it from siblings or parents who hate him? What if she's married at the time?! Wild.)

She might actually believe there's a mistake. She's going insane. It must be someone else. Can these things be wrong? A lot will depend on her personal feelings about the soulmate business. Does she pursue him anyway, to see what happens? Does she stay the hell away, thinking it's "too late" for them?

Tywin would go from uncharacteristic shock, to quickly recovering, to full-blown denial. Obviously he was mistaken. Depending on your AU, this may be more difficult to ignore. But by god, he'll try. He's too prideful to even consider approaching her, unless there's a reason. And then he'll speak to her like any other person, determined to not express anything, to act as he always does. Even when they both know the truth.

It would be a long, painfully circular song-and-dance that would only progress under specific circumstances, like an arranged marriage. And even then. He's so damn prideful, not wanting to admit to himself when he begins appreciating or desiring aspects about her. He's so prideful! It's infuriating. And he hates being distracted from work and politics for things like feelings, even if he and Joanna were constantly involved in politics as a team.

It's a Whole-Ass Thing. As yall should expect from this awful man. And lord, if word got out to his family or any of Westeros about it ... madness.

#this is REALLY interesting and dependent on a lot of stuff so sorry if i meandered or wasnt specific lol #soulmate AUs arent rlly my jam but i like to think about consequences it would have on the world or characters #because yall know me :P #🥛🛤️ anon #can i just say that is an incredibly cute anon tag....#tywin lannister x reader #libra headcanons

85 notes · View notes

nctynuniverse · 2 years

Text

Stressed

Nakamoto Yuta x reader

«s»

Words: 1200ish

A/N: I wrote this like in half an hour because I got so stressed at work I needed a break. Also this started being a fic for Ten but while writing my best friend texted me something about Yuta and well, now it's a Yuta one shot. Also it's my first smut so don't come at me. No beta read though cause I'm lazy.

SMUT AHEAD minors do not interact.

You were stressed. Like, super stressed. Work had been really busy lately and that day in particular it seemed that you’d only have to deal with bigots.

You felt like crying, which you did a few times trying not to be caught by your boyfriend, who happened to have a day off and was playing some stupid video game on his Nintendo switch, on your sofa.

Once, twice, then the third time you let a sigh out, Yuta decided he had had enough. He looked at the clock and it showed 3pm. You hadn’t taken your break not had you looked away from that damned computer the whole day. Not even for a second. You even had lunch while munching on some random leftovers you found on the fridge.

He left his Pokémon game there and stood up, stretching a bit, unnoticed by you right before approaching to your form.

Forecasting had never been your cup of tea and finance in general was difficult as fuck to you, but what could be done about it? It was your job after all.

And it was stressing the fuck out of you.

Yuta approached you from behind and placed his hands softly on your shoulders, a soft gasp leaving your lips before you looked up at him, offering a small smile only to take your eyes back on the computer a second later.

He huffed and rested his chin on your head, his hands traveling down your arms giving you goosebumps.

“Baby, do you need anything?” You asked, eyes still on the damned computer.

“Mmmh. Not really” he answered softly, then his hands stopped right on your shoulders again, giving you a soft massage. “But you need to take a break”.

You were pissed and he was right. Thus, you sighed and, easily convinced, changed your status on Microsoft Teams from ‘do not disturb’ to ‘away’. Then turned around.

“You’re right. It’s just that I’m in charge of too many things and I can’t make them make sense and everyone is leaning on me but I do not have the expertise on this a-and…”

You started babbling but he caught you right there, taking your hand and bringing you to the couch with him, laying you there, his body behind you, spooning yours perfectly. His arm crept from your nape to under your neck and stayed there, while his other arm was above you, his hand drawing circles on your stomach.

You shuddered and closed your eyes, lost in the feeling. He kissed your nape and his hand traveled from your stomach to your thighs, stroking them softly.

“Shh, relax. I can make you forget about it, would you like that?”

You let out a sigh and nodded softly, your job could be damned for all your knew. Meanwhile, his hand situated itself between your thighs, caressing their inside slowly, dangerously close to your core.

“I need words baby, tell me” and his hand went further closer “do you want me to make you feel good?”

His mouth was so close to your ear, it almost made you whimper. You nodded quickly, your hand grabbing onto his wrist.

“Yes, Yuta, please. Make me feel good”.

He left a kiss right behind your ear and bit on that same spot on your nape.

“Good girl”.

His hand then cupped your mound, while the other one grabbed one of your breasts, pinching the nipple over your clothes.

Your body shivered and a little moan rolled out of your lips. You closed your eyes just to get lost on the feeling even more.

His fingers played with your clit over your leggings and you were thankful to have chosen that item for your bottom that day, being able to feel every little movement he made.

Yuta, on his side, was also enjoying the situation a bit too much and you could simply notice that with the way his length ft hard on your butt, your hips bringing him some friction, making him groan.

Eventually, Yuta grew tired of teasing you and brought his hand inside your leggings, touching your core directly with his pads. He drew his fingers across your folds, gathering the wetness, making a bit of a mess.

“Baby you’re dripping and I haven’t even touched you properly yet” he brought his wet fingers and drew circles on your clit with them “kinda pathetic, don’t you think?”

You were experiencing pure bliss.His words were taking you to another dimension and his fingers expertly messing with you were driving you crazy. You wanted more, and you let him know, the best you could, mixing your words with your moans. He chuckled.

“How spoiled. But whatever my. baby. wants” the way he accentuated each word tapping on your clit had you almost cumming right then and there “she gets”. And after finishing that sentence, he slipped two fingers in you.

A loud moan left your lips and it worsened when he started scissoring his fingers inside you, thursting them in a quick pace, while you just couldn’t keep quiet.

“Baby you’re being too loud, why don’t you just” and he didn’t even get to finish the sentence because as soon as his free fingers were near your mouth, you leaned in to suck on them as if they were a lollipop, drool spilling from your mouth making a mess.

Yuta thought you were fucking hot and right before you could cum, he withdrew his fingers from your folds, gaining a muffled insult from you. His fingers still stuck in your mouth, he let out a laugh and lowered your leggings as well as his pants, pumping himself before teasing your folds from behind.

You sucked even harder on his lips at the sensation, and his mouth was again dangerously close to your ear. He smiled devilishly.

“Now, be a good girl and stay still, alright? Do you want me to fuck you?”

You nodded and that was enough for him to thrust the tip in, biting his bottom lip while waiting for your signal for him to go all in. Which didn’t take much to come as you wiggled your hips a little, letting him know he could take you hora ever he wanted to. And he did.

He finally took his hand from your mouth, wiping your saliva on your cheek and wrapped it around your throat, while the other one grabbed your hips, him thrusting inside you from behind.

Soft praises left his mouth while he chased both of your highs, you too lost on the pleasure to acknowledge anything beside how much a good girl you were for taking him so well. And that made you come even closer.

Not sure when but you felt him twitch inside you and you begged him to cum inside you, while his hand that was before on your throat traveled to your clit and drew circles there, causing you both to cum at the same time, making a mess on the couch.

Panting, you turned around lazily to look at him, both of you still almost fully clothed. He offered you a soft smile and kissed your nose, before pinching your butt.

“I hope I took your mind off work at least for a few minutes”

“You surely did. Not sure how I’m gonna go back from my break though”.

#nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #nakamoto yuta #nakamoto yuta x reader #nct drabbles #nct x reader #nct fanfic #nct u #nct imagines

126 notes · View notes

iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Spare Me A Moment? // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: I’d love to request a Benedict fic, if that’s okay ☺️ Maybe one where the reader doesnt belong to the ton and works for the Bridgertons and he falls for her but she can’t quite believe it (because why would he fall for someone of her status?) but eventually admits that she has feelings for him too? I hope this is something you’d like to write 🙈 Thank you so much 💛 - @dreaming-about-fanfictions

A/N: My first Bridgerton request and it’s from my dear, Astrid! Thank you, my lovely. I only hope I have done it justice. There are moments in this that are inspired by Downton Abbey (a different time period, I know, but I adapt) and the way the fic is written is meant to jump about POVs before finally bringing the reader or Benedict as the sole focus of the scene.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: use of she/her pronouns, female reader, class differences, societal differences, pining, mutual pining, kissing, honest conversations, bridgertons being bridgertons, healthy family relationships.

Word Count: 5.4k

Of the families that resided in Grosvenor Square, there was not one so loved by their staff than that of the Bridgertons. They treated their staff fairly with decent wages and housing well as treating them with respect. The staff that work for the Bridgertons are so admired by the family that those in their employment tend not to leave for years on end; perfectly happy to remain devoted to one family.

To be a housemaid in a home such as Bridgerton House was an honour; as was repeated by the butler, Jenkins and the Head Housemaid, Mrs. Thorpe when (Y/N) began working in the house many years ago.

There was no other way to put it, (Y/N) adored working in Bridgerton House. She never minded the early starts, or the late finishes when the season was in full swing. She could never find herself bothered by having to pick up after the youngest children; their shoes and books lying about hallways and staircases, ready to cause an injury. (Y/N) was utterly devoted to the family; she could never imagine working anywhere else.

And if she had admired the second born Bridgerton with an interest that spoke to more of an employer/servant relationship, then that was (Y/N)’s cross to bear.

-----------

For months he had watched her from the centre of attention. He had observed how she held herself; tall and proud of the work she completed daily.

It had been a passing glance that had started it all. A polite smile and nod from her as Benedict passed in her the hallway, and suddenly he was hit with one, if not all, of Cupid’s arrows. After that, Benedict started to notice (Y/N) everywhere – started to notice the extra attention she paid Hyacinth when she was missing Gregory; he noticed how she would go out of her way to ensure his mother’s comfort in her drawing room, fluffing up cushions and pillows, and offering a blanket should there be a chill.

Benedict began to notice all of this and for a moment, he wondered whether he was beginning to lose his mind. He knew of the barriers between them, but that didn’t stop him from experience the raw emotion of wanting her. Benedict didn’t like to think how many hours of the day he devoted to thinking of her; dreaming of her.

All he wanted was to talk to her. To have a few minutes with her to plead his case; to help her understand that there is the very real possibility of a relationship between then should she feel the same way. How often he had dreamed of her feeling the same way…

A lovesick fool. Benedict Bridgerton was a lovesick fool but should (Y/N) spare him a moment, he would be her lovesick fool.

------------

From the very moment she woke, (Y/N) had been on her feet, rushing from room to room, tidying up after everyone. The whole Bridgerton family would be descending on the main house for the final meal of the day; they were welcoming Anthony and his new wife, Kate, home from their honeymoon.

That meant everything had to be perfect. That meant there was very little time to wander through the house; Jenkins was already close to tears; he could not be pushed any further.

The chiming of the grandfather clock in the hallway has (Y/N) hastening her steps, trying not to look too rushed as she thinks of the dinner service still needing to be taken upstairs and the wine to decant and the port to breathe. Whilst Anthony had a collection of whiskies and brandies in his study, the port was kept to the realm of the butler – Jenkins knew exactly what to buy and when to serve it. Tonight was one such occasion, and it still needed to breathe.

“(Y/N)!” Benedict calls, hurrying after her as she makes her way back to her quarters to dress for the dinner service. Jenkins, the Butler, would not be best pleased if she were to show up late.

“Mr. Bridgerton, how can I help you?” (Y/N) asks, curtseying to the second-born Bridgerton before eyeing the grandfather clock and noting the time.

“Spare me a moment of your time, please?”

“You should be getting ready for dinner. I know that Benjamin has laid out your clothes.”

“I want to talk to you… only for a moment, I know you have jobs to attend to.”

Smoothing down her apron, (Y/N) smiles softly at the brunette. “What would you like to talk about?”

“I thought it was obvious but perhaps not,” Benedict murmurs to himself, practically ignoring her question.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Bridgerton but I must be getting on.”

“No!” He all but shouts, reaching for your hand, “Spare me another moment of your time… please.”

She wavers as if caught between the berating she will no doubt receive from the Butler for being late to the dinner service or letting down her employer whom she stands in front of. After a moment’s silence, her decision is made. “How can I help you, Mr. Bridgerton?” She repeats.

“Call me Benedict, please.”

She shakes her head, “I’m afraid I cannot do that, Mr. Bridgerton. It would be improper.”

Benedict hesitates; his hand still outstretched towards her as if desperate to feel her underneath his palms. “I’ve gone about this all wrong,” He says, eyes sad.

“Pardon?”

“I’ve fallen in love with you,” Benedict confesses, speaking plainly as if he hasn’t changed her world in six words.

“What?” She gasps; propriety falling away from her for a moment as the words he uttered settle into her skin.

“I’ve fallen in love with you,” Benedict repeats, voice firmer as he becomes surer of himself.

“How?” She asks, her face and voice puzzled, “I’m a housemaid, Mr. Bridgerton.”

His eyebrows furrow as if such a thing shouldn’t matter in their world. Yet it does – status is everything; titles are everything. A man who hails from a family such as the Bridgertons could not marry, let alone fall in love with one of the serving class. It simply didn’t happen. There was the occasional affair, but (Y/N) knew herself well enough not to be reserved as a mistress – it was not her destiny. She was to marry for love.

“I don’t know how it happened, but I find myself thinking of you every waking minute of the day. I find it hard not to stare at you when I see you completing your duties. At night, I long for it to be you lying next to me instead of the emptiness of the bed. I don’t know how it happened, (Y/N). All I know is that I am in love with you. This is no farce or folly.”

The words fall over her as rain would fall over grass. They soak into her skin, mould to her bones and become part of her in the span of mere seconds. Mere seconds, and her world has changed. As much as she longed to hear those words from his lips, this could not happen. Moving away from him, her chest aching with every step, she whispers her excuse to escape, “I’m sorry, Mr. Bridgerton, I need to get back downstairs.”

Watching her walk away from him, Benedict feels something heavy settle in his chest, pressing his lungs down and making it difficult to breathe. The barriers between them were so entrenched into society, Benedict begins to worry that he has lost her before he every truly got to know her.

Shaking his head, determination sets his nerves to steel. He would try again, he promises himself. He would not pester, but he would do what he could to ensure a brighter future for the both of them.

----------

“We’re down a footman,” Jenkins panics, “I’ve had to send William to bed with a head cold. We’re down one footman in the dining room.”

“What do you propose we do?” Mrs. Thorpe asks of the grey-haired man. Hands on her hips and her lips, thin, Mrs. Thorpe was not a woman to be trifled with. She had not run Bridgerton House for close to thirty years for Jenkins’ panic to ruin a single evening. So far in their shared career with the Bridgerton family, his nerves had almost ruined an engagement party, a christening, an end of season masquerade ball and now, a traditional family dinner.

The colour fades from Jenkins’ face as he mutters, “I’m going to have to have a housemaid in the dining room.”

Mrs. Thorpe rolls her eyes at the antics of the overly dramatic butler. “It won’t be the end of the world to have a housemaid in the dining room. Take (Y/N) – she’s liked well enough by the family and knows how to serve.”

Jenkins sighs wearily as if the weight of the world rests upon his shoulders. “I suppose I have no choice. Will you let (Y/N) know?”

(Y/N) is walking down the stairs to the lower levels of the house when she hears Mrs. Thorpe call her name. Turning, as she lands on the bottom step, she has a fond smile on her face for the Head Housekeeper. “Mrs. Thorpe,” (Y/N) greets.

“We’re down a footman this evening, dear,” Mrs. Thorpe says in greeting, never one to beat around the bush, “Would you be able to cover the dining room with Jenkins and Benjamin?”

“The dining room?” (Y/N) questions as the rug is pulled from underneath her feet for the second time that afternoon. It would mean having to see Benedict once more, but what choice was there.

“Yes,” Mrs. Thorpe confirms, “There aren’t enough bodies to cover the whole family. Everyone is dining tonight.”

“Of course,” (Y/N) smiles, “Of course, I’ll help. I’ll also take William a tray when I get a moment’s reprieve.”

Mrs. Thorpe smiles; the corners of her eyes crinkling from the force of it. “You are a gem. Thank you, dear.”

(Y/N) nods, smiling at the Head Housekeeper though she knows it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Having to see Benedict so soon after his confession had sent her mind into overdrive; her stomach tying itself into knots – she could only hope that the gentleman wouldn’t say anything, wouldn’t humiliate her in front of his whole family.

Mrs. Thorpe touches (Y/N)’s shoulder, asking her softly, “Is everything okay, dear?”

(Y/N) nods, trying her best not to let her emotions show on her face. She had been blindsided by Benedict and his confession; didn’t ever expect such words to leave his mouth… well, expected them but never thought they would be directed at her.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Thorpe,” She smiles and whilst the Head Housekeep returns the smile, she does not believe the one on (Y/N)’s face for a moment.

“Are you sure you’re okay to help out in the dining room? Jenkins can always find someone else.”

(Y/N) shakes her head, knowing the butler better than she knows herself. “He would cause such a panic. No, it’s better I do it myself.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am,” She pats Mrs. Thorpe’s hand. “I am sure.”

-----------

It takes everything she has to stop her hands from shaking as she enters the dining room with her tray of food. Following Jenkins’ lead, (Y/N) holds her head high as she serves the Bridgertons, beginning with Anthony and then making her way from his right.

Benedict all but freezes in his spot when (Y/N) finally comes to serve from his left shoulder. He turns in his chair to find her staring down at him; a serving plate in her hand, the tongs pointed in his direction. Their fingers brush as Benedict reaches for the utensil sending a zap of static electricity up (Y/N)’s arm. She sucks in a breathe, desperate to keep the connection between them yet she is the one who straightens, who schools her face into a mask of polite interest.

“Thank you,” Benedict whispers, still unable to take his eyes off her.

“You’re welcome,” She replies, swiftly moving onto Gregory who sits patiently by Benedict’s side.

Jenkins who had noticed the exchange between Benedict and (Y/N) clears his throat, gaining the attention of the family waiting to start their meal. “I am terribly sorry for the informality. William took ill at the last moment and (Y/N) graciously offered to fill his shoes.”

Anthony Bridgerton smiles at (Y/N). “Thank you, (Y/N), for stepping in so quickly,” He states before turning his attention to Jenkins, “Has a tray been organised for William? Do you need us to contact the doctor?”

Jenkins watches the young Viscount with warm eyes; having known the Viscount since he was a babe in arms, it has been his pride and joy to watch him grow to the man he is today. “(Y/N) has offered to take a tray to William as soon as she is finished here. As for the doctor, my Lord, it seems only to be a head cold.”

“Let us know if anything changes, please.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

As food is served and wine is poured, happy and warm conversation flows through the Bridgerton family. Laughter is the most often heard sound in the Bridgerton home; it punctuates the air whether the chuckle and giggle comes from a member of the family or a member of staff.

Tonight is no different, it seems, as Hyacinth snorts midway through her laughter at Gregory’s latest antics. Visiting home for the weekend from Eton, Gregory was on hand to entertain his brothers and scandalise his dear mother with stories of his school life.

“I do hope you are paying attention in your lessons,” Violet admonishes her youngest son though there is nothing but maternal love in her voice.

Gregory smiles widely, holding a hand over his heart as he promises, “I do nothing less.”

His words receive an amused snort from all three brothers and a roll of eyes from his mother. (Y/N) turns her face away from the loving scene to keep the smile on her face from growing. This; this is what she years for – family, love, laughter and warmth. No matter how Benedict phrases his feelings, and no matter how she may feel for the Bridgerton, a relationship that harbours the four things (Y/N) holds dear would be impossible due to her station. A sad fact, but a universally accepted truth.

The topic of conversation once again shifts; this time focusing on the latest branch in literature. A novel had been published that had managed to scandalise not only the religious community, but also the scientific one. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein was, to (Y/N), two things. Not only was it a book that promised the reader to be horrified, but it was written by a woman. Shelley was not the first female author, and she would not be the last but this latest venture into a new genre of literature inspired pride within (Y/N). With the growing availability of books through libraries, (Y/N) felt it was only time before something big happened in the fight for rights for women.

Though she kept those thoughts readily to herself.

“What do you think, (Y/N)?” Benedict asks, blue eyes sparkling over the rim his wine glass as every member of his family turns to look at her.

Eyes wide with shock, she glances over to Jenkins. He nods but he doesn’t look pleased at her having been called on by the employer. Taking a step forward, she curtsies slightly before answering, “I couldn’t possibly say, Mr. Bridgerton, sir. I haven’t read the book.”

“Come now, (Y/N),” Benedict continues, his smile growing wider, “You must have an opinion.”

“Benedict,” Violet chastises, “Leave the poor girl alone. She’s only serving tonight as William has fallen ill. There is no need to badger her.”

Violet smiles at (Y/N) apologetically as she takes a step back to the wall, her hands held neatly in front of her. Conversation soon turns to another subject, another topic which gives (Y/N) the space to breathe; to slow her racing heart.

Benedict’s eyes continue to steal glances of her figure for the rest of the meal. It feels close to a brand; the heat of his gaze burns through whatever shield she has up to the point where she is certain Benedict has laid her bare for all to see. It’s all she can think of; his keen gaze and his words to her before the meal.

Trying her best not to fidget, (Y/N) keeps her eyes focused on the portrait of a Bridgerton ancestor hung on the wall across from her. She only rouses herself from her nerves to serve the courses of the meal. (Y/N) cannot help but thank any god or deity out there when the dessert course is brought up and the meal is soon brought to a close.

-------------

It is easy to avoid someone when you ask for extra duties, (Y/N) thinks to herself as she carries a pile of dresses to be mended. The muslin is smooth against her skin as she lays the dresses out on the mending table before turning to find the sewing kit. Thankfully, for the dresses, there was not much to be done but mend a few holes that had torn near the hem. The danger of heels and quick walking women, (Y/N) humours.

It had been a week since the conversation with Benedict; his words constantly playing on her mind until she wakes in the middle of the night with them on her lips, as if she were reciting the conversation in her sleep.

Benedict had tried to gain her attention; he had made clear attempts at wanting to talk to her. However, she simply curtsied and went on her way. She didn’t know what to say to him; she couldn’t understand how he – the son of a Viscount, no less – had fallen in love with her.

It felt preposterous; it felt too good to be true. Yet as the oil lamps are dampened for the night and the other servants in the house have fallen asleep, (Y/N) lets herself dream of what it could be like to be loved by Benedict Bridgerton. She wonders about the curve of his mouth; what it feel like, whether he would smile into their kiss. She thinks of his hands; his long, artistic fingers and she briefly ponders whether he had ever drawn her, whether in his many sketchbooks there lies a portrait of her.

When she’s feeling a particular glutton for punishment, (Y/N) lets herself dream of a life with Benedict where class status didn’t matter. She thinks of what it would be like to wake up to him every morning; to feel the heaviness of his arm wrapped around her waist as he rises to consciousness with the sun. She yearns to know what it would feel like to be able to reach over and take his hand in hers, tangling their fingers together as if they had always meant to be intertwined.

The longing for him is what breaks her. It’s what causes the tears to roll down her face as she lets herself accept the fact that she is sure she has known for a long time. She lets herself accept that she had met the cliché of so many housemaids before her by falling in love with Benedict Bridgerton a long time ago, before he had even come to know her existence.

-----------

The drawing room on the upper level of the house was where Violet Bridgerton spent most of her day. On occasion, her sons’ joined the family, but for the most part, it was her daughters that kept her company. Violet remains occupied by her stitching patterns; a garden of tulips for the birth of Anthony’s darling new baby, however, she keeps a weather eye on Eloise and Hyacinth – her only daughters to remain at home and unmarried.

“Eloise,” Violet murmurs, “Would you be a dear and ring for some tea. My throat is parched.”

Eloise pauses in her writing; so occupied these days, Violet thinks as her second eldest daughter rises to ring for the kitchen. “What are you working on?” Violet asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

Eloise frowns, collecting the papers out of fear anyone should read them. “I’m writing to Penelope if you must know.”

“Writing? She lives just across the way, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you calling on her.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t,” Eloise allows, “But there is nothing wrong with practicing my handwriting, is there mother?”

Violet smiles; a pained one that shows her exhaustion with her beloved daughter. “No, my dear. There is no harm in that.”

Eloise nods, smiling softly at her mother before returning to her letter. Violet watches her for a moment; the way her eyes read and reread the sentences written on the page – this was not a letter to Penelope; it was to a suitor. Violet knew full well, however, that Eloise would come to her when ready – she was not someone to be pushed into giving information.

Returning to her stitching, Violet finds that her attention is once more interrupted by the opening of the door. She sighs, placing the stitching down, curious as to whether she would get the piece done before the arrival of the sweet babe.

Turning to face the door, she is surprised to find her second-born, Benedict entering the room. His eyes, sad and his expression, solemn as he runs a hand again and again through his hair.

“Mother,” Benedict greets, leaning down to press a kiss to her ageing cheek. “May I speak with you about a private matter?”

Violet’s eyebrows furrow but she says nothing as she dismisses her daughters; each one complaining as they leave the room, closing the door behind them. At the click of the lock, Violet smiles warmly at her son – he was so different from Anthony and Colin, not the least interested in their games such as Pall Mall but would rather sit to the side with his sketchbook in hand. He had a boisterous streak; could play with the rest of them, but he had his moments where he fall into a tranquil state and produce artwork that could rival the greats.

Nerves tangling his stomach to pieces, Benedict begins to pace the room. His hands are hooked behind his back as he begins to pace backwards and forwards, trying to form sentences from the jumble of words in his mind. He knew, deep down, that whatever he should want to do with his life, his beloved mother would support him, but even Violet Bridgerton could not ignore the class lines so entrenched within society.

“Benedict, my dear, you’re beginning to make me dizzy. Stop pacing and tell me what’s wrong.”

Benedict pauses his pacing but does not sit down. Instead, he stands as still as a stone, hands gesturing wildly as he tries to form thoughts into sentences. Mouth opening and closing, he struggles of how to bring up the issue of love and marriage.

“You would never stand in the way of who we love, would you?” He finally asks, running a hand through his deep brown hair.

Violet frowns, “I would not considering they were within reason. Why? Have you fallen in love, Benedict?”

“I think… No. I know I have, but there’s a problem.”

“Are they a drunk?”

“No.”

“Do they gamble?”

“No.”

“Then whatever is the matter?”

“She’s a servant. A housemaid to be precise… in this house.”

Violet would be the first to admit that she is surprised by her son’s admission. Sighing, she pats the cushion next to her, urging her son to sit down. “Who?” she asks as Benedict falls into the seat beside her.

“(Y/N),” He admits, fiddling with the hem of his jacket.

She runs a hand through his hair, “Does she love you too?”

“I don’t know,” Benedict admits, “She ran off after I confessed.”

“Then I need to speak to her to find out once and for all,” Violet declares, smoothing out her skirts.

“Mother…” Benedict groans. Violet shakes her head, “Let me talk to her. I can reassure her in ways you cannot. I can tell her that I approve.”

“You approve?” He asks, shocked at the words leaving hid mother’s mouth. “I thought you would disapprove…”

“Because of her class? My dear boy, you have found your love match, that is all I wish for my children. Should (Y/N) feel the same then of course I approve. I would rather you be happy than miserable, my son.”

“Thank you, mother,” Benedict replies, kissing her cheek once again, “You’re truly the best there are.”

Violet blushes at her sons words, dismissing him with a wave of her fan. “Off with you, and ring for Jenkins before you go.”

Benedict bows before pulling the cord by the door. Leaving the room, Benedict cannot help the smile that crosses his face. He truly holds some hope that (Y/N) might feel the same as he does and if his mother should approve, then there should be no issue to their courting and their union.

----------------

(Y/N) wrings her hands together on entire walk to Lady Violet’s drawing room. Having been summoned by the Lady herself, this could be either of two things. One: she was about to find herself suddenly unemployed for reasons she did not yet know. Or two: Lady Violet knows about the conversation with Benedict.

Neither reason made (Y/N) feel particularly confident as she is shown into the drawing room. Her heart remains in her throat even as Lady Violet smiles at her warmly; gesturing for her to sit down across from her and take some tea.

Adding one lump of sugar to her tea, Lady Violet bluntly asks, “Do you love my son, (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) promptly drops her spoon into her tea causing it to splash on the table cover. “Oh!” She gasps, reaching for a napkin to clean up the mess as best she can, “I am so terribly sorry, Lady Bridgerton.”

Violet chuckles, “It’s no problem, (Y/N). Tea tends to wash out as I am sure you are well aware. I do not want to think of how many table cloths and dresses I have stained in my time… but I love the drink so many more stains are due to come.”

“My mother says that the world can be put to rights over a good cup of tea.”

“Your mother sounds very wise.”

“She is,” (Y/N) nods, smiling wistfully as she thinks of her mother with the fondness of a child. “I write to her nearly every day. She likes to hear about the city and what is happening. She feels as if the Bridgertons are her own family.”

Violet beams at that, “I am glad to hear it, (Y/N), but you have not answered my question.”

“I apologise, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Are you in love with Benedict?”

(Y/N) remains silent for a moment before beginning to nod her head. “I am. I know I am,” (Y/N) begins, “But…”

“But what?”

“I could bring nothing to the courtship and then nothing to the marriage. My family are not rich enough for me to have a dowry; I have no title or land; I barely know proper etiquette – I would offend everyone the moment I stepped through the door. On top of that, think of the social connections Benedict would lose – there would be families who would never speak to him again all because he had the rotten luck to fall in love with me.”

Violet’s blue eyes grow determined as she begins to list off: “You do not need a dowry; we have enough money as it is. There is no need for you to have a title or land, Benedict has his own homes. In terms of etiquette, you converse with me quite well, so I see no issue there. As for social connections, if people cannot see how happy you make my son then that is their issue, not yours and not Benedict’s.”

“What about the Viscount, Lady Bridgerton? Surely he has final say.”

A glimmer of something maternal shines in Violet’s eyes as she smiles. “Let me handle my eldest son. You have no reason to worry, (Y/N). Benedict loves you. I will not stand in the way of his happiness.”

“So you approve?” (Y/N) asks, forgetting herself for a brief moment before dipping her head in apology.

Violet dismisses her apology with a wave of her hand; after all, if things go to plan, she would be calling (Y/N) daughter in no time. “Do I approve of having to find another housemaid as talented as you? No, I do not. But do I approve of the lady that my son has given his heart to? Absolutely. To be entirely truthful, I would rather it be you than someone in society.”

“Thank you, Lady Bridgerton,” (Y/N) says gratefully, feeling the all too familiar prick of tears in the corner of her eyes.

“Now go,” Violet smiles, the familiar sting of tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, “Go find my son and tell him how you feel.”

Standing from the chair, (Y/N) curtsies with a smile before rushing from the room. Her mind in a daze as to what has truly happened just now.

-------------

(Y/N) finds Benedict in the library, sat awkwardly in one of the chairs with his sketchbook propped up in his lap. He’s focused entirely on the sketch at hand; his mouth set in a determined line as a finger delicately smudges part of his work.

For a single instant, (Y/N) watches Benedict in his element, finding that the butterflies in her stomach have turned from slumbering to a full blown riot at the mere sight of the man that had captured her heart. Still riding on the high from her conversation with Lady Bridgerton, (Y/N) steps further into the room. Benedict freezes in place at the sight of her stood by the stacks of books; her eyes are bright, and her skin flushed as she fiddles with the hem of her apron.

The painting flashes in his mind suddenly and his fingers twitch with the urge to turn the page of his sketchbook whilst simultaneously asking her to remain still so he can immortalise her on page. She’s perfect; she’s the perfect model and she doesn’t even realise it; Benedict thinks to himself.

“Spare me a moment?” She asks tentatively, as if worried of his reaction.

“All my moments are for you,” Benedict whispers honestly setting her heart racing in her chest. He stands from the chair, long legs coming out from under him as he leaves his sketchbook behind.

“All mine are for you too, if you’ll still have me…”

“What?”

“I love you too,” She confesses, voice small as she fiddles with her fingers, eyes cast on them – too scared to meet his gaze.

A finger under her chin has her meeting his deep blue eyes. Eyes that are alight with the happiness that surges through his veins; that highlight just how his heart sings at hearing those magical words leave her mouth.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” (Y/N) begins to ramble, “There is so much that is standing in the way for us, and I know you do not care or at least, I think you do not care but I cannot help but worry that if we were to happen, one day you would wake up and regret every moment of it. I am not from the same class as you, Benedict, I do not want to ruin you.”

A smile breaks across his face despite the stark desperation of her words. She furrows her eyebrows, half in curiosity, half in concealed frustration. “What are you smiling at?” She demands.

His hands move to cradle her face; thumbs rubbing over her cheekbones as he chuckles, “You called me ‘Benedict’.”

Thinking over her words, she smiles despite herself. “I suppose I did.”

“As for your worries: I do not think there will be one day in my future that I will not wake up and be grateful. However, that will only happen if you are in it – if I am waking up to you every morning. Darling, I do not think you can ruin me. I think you will be the making of me.”

“Do you promise? Not to regret me?” She whispers, a note of vulnerability in her voice.

“I promise,” He vows, pressing a kiss first to her forehead, then to her nose and cheeks. Then as he hovers above her lips, he whispers, “With every moment you spare me, I could never regret falling in love with you.”

******

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley

Taglist is open! If you would like to be added, drop a message to my ask box and I shall add you to the list.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagines #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagines

1K notes · View notes

nationalharryleague · 4 years

Text

One Day

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Drunk!Harry Fluff!

Word count: 2K

A/N: Hi all! This is some drunk boyfriend harry fluff that I just love sm. It’s based off of “One Day” by Catie Turner (I highly recommend listening to it!!) More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and I would love to hear what you think in my ask! Thank you so much for reading!

***

Harry was the life of the party when he wanted to be. He knew how to let loose, with a tequila on the rocks in one hand and a beer in the other, ready to party until he (literally) dropped. He always ended up on some sort of elevated surface like a teenage girl, usually a kitchen island or an absurdly expensive coffee table, singing along to whatever music was playing, magically knowing every word to whatever came over the speakers. Sometimes he would get lost in the winding corridors of the massive mansions his friends lived in, taking a wrong turn in his enhibrated state and ending up somewhere he definitely wasn’t supposed to be. There was also one time he jumped off a (thankfully low) roof into the swimming pool below.

But usually, he was calm, cool, and collected; gently sipping on a single drink he would nurse for most of the night. The two of you liked to sit and watch during these parties, his hand settling securely on your waist, keeping you close to him and away from the chaos that unfolded before you. You would curl up on a couch somewhere and just watch it all play out like it was an observational study, often giving commentary and ranking people and their drunk dancing out of 10.

“I feel like we're the mean girls in the corner of the cafeteria who just sit and silently judge everyone around them,” you would giggle, nuzzling yourself further into his side.

“That’s because we are the mean girls in the corner judging everyone around them, sweetheart” he would reply, in a slightly buzzed drawl.

But tonight was not one of those nights. And Harry had ended up standing on top of the dining room table scream-singing ABBA at the top of his lungs.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic and messy performance. His limbs flailed freely as he wiggled his hips along to the beat of Dancing Queen, singing into a small statue of a naked woman he had picked up off an end table that you assumed to be very, very expensive, like it was a microphone. He wore a pair of high rise denim flares that swayed along with his movements to the music and his white “Women are Smarter'' shirt was now stuck to his body with sweat, just see through enough for his butterfly to make an appearance.

He only came down after a green malaise began to settle over his features, skin slightly clammy and a bit pale. You extended a hand, helping his loopy body down off the table and letting him settle into your side for support once he was on solid ground again. “Let’s head to the bathroom, H,” you said gently, trying to settle the panic that was beginning to crawl into his eyes. “I’ll take care of you.”

Once he got to the beautifully large and extravagant bathroom, he crawled into a small, or as small as the large man could make himself, ball and rested his hot clammy cheeks against the cool marble of the floor. “May have overdone it,” he grumbled from his spot on the floor, holding on for dear life as you were sure the room was spinning for him.

“Ya think?” you teased, immediately feeling a pang of guilt when you were met with a pathetically needy face from him in return. “Oh baby, it’s okay.” You carefully dug through the cabinets, knowing there had to be washcloths somewhere in the lavish room, and once you found one you dampened it with cold water. Settling down on the tile next to him, you pulled him and his sweaty curls on to your lap, wiping the layer of sweat delicately from his skin and then resting the cold cloth on his forehead.

You two stayed in this position for a while, carefully rubbing his back in an effort to sooth the large man and trying to ignore the loud music that was still shaking the house around you. He looked small like this, no longer your giant protector, but like a younger version of himself who just needed someone to take care of him. You were happy to be that person, as he always was for you.

This was the first time you had ever seen him like this. He always managed to know his limits, but tonight he just went off the deep end. He had been working like a dog, constantly in and out of the studio, frustrated that none of the songs he was writing were up to his astronomically high standards for himself. It wasn’t too shocking that he was trying to escape that stress.

Gradually, as he laid on the floor and you held him close, the color came back into his cheeks and he stopped holding onto your legs like the room was about to take flight. When you sat him up against the wall, he was still a bit wobbly, but no longer looked like he was about to unload his stomach contents all over the room.

“How are you feeling now, H?” you asked softly, scanning his face for discomfort or distress as you dabbed the washcloth over his skin.

“’m okay,” he hiccuped back, “jus’ needed a cuddle.” He got exceptionally British when he got this drunk, his accent coming out in a barely distinguishable garble of tall vowels and dropped consonants, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

His eyes fluttered open and closed without rhythm as he looked at you, his light green eyes glazed over with a glassy shine, and his mouth hung open slightly, like he didn’t have the coordination to close it. His pink cheeks were flushed and his skin had a sweaty sheen. His head had rolled off too one side and rested on his shoulder, like his neck had given up on holding his head up, and his arms fell heavy at his sides.

You should have been at least slightly annoyed with him for acting like a college kid, drinking until he made himself sick. His behavior and subsequent need for you to take care of him should have gotten under your skin and caused a bit of anger to bubble up into your chest. But it didn’t. You were just taking care of your man.

“Do you still feel nauseous?”

“‘m a-ok, babay” he said, making himself giggle with his rhyme. His lips lazily curled up into a smile and he dragged a lazy arm up to give the “OK” symbol with his uncoordinated fingers, before the heavy limb dropped back down to the tile beneath him.

“Okay, funny man,” you began sarcastically, planning on instructing to drink the glass of water you had retrieved on your way up to the bathroom, when he cut you off.

“I am pretty funny, aren’t I?” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back the loud belly laugh that fell past your lips. He took the glass from you and began to sip, a proud smirk never leaving his lips as he looked at you.

“You were a comedian in a past life.”

“I agree.”

You two were quiet for a bit, Harry drinking something other than tequila for the first time the entire night, and you just admiring him in silence. You let your hand crawl into his, interlocking your fingers together before bringing it up to your lips and pressing small kisses to each of his knuckles. It wasn’t long before his glass of water was finished and he crawled back into your arms, his back pressing to your chest with your arms wrapped securely around his shoulders. Your fingers ran through his still damp curls, initially just to push them up and away from his forehead and eyes, but continued when you heard the little happy mewls coming from him.

“Ya take such good care of me,” he said sloppily with a gentle tone, breaking through the bubble of silence you two had created together.

“I always will.” You pressed a gentle kiss to his salty forehead and settled back onto the hard wall behind you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You hadn’t been together for long, with saying the “L” word still being pretty new, and still slightly foreign, to both of you. But you meant it when you said it, you loved him, and your body always filled with a blushing warmth when he said he loved you too.

You had met through work when you interviewed him for the magazine you worked at. From the moment you saw those dimples in real life, you were weak in the knees and enamored with him. You hadn’t been trying to flirt, it just happened. And before he left the office, you had a date planned for that Friday. That was 6 months ago now and they had been some of the happiest of your life.

“Will you marry me?”

The question left his lips in his absurdly difficult to understand drawl and it took you a moment to process what he said, but when you did your heart stopped.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry him, because you did, but not now.

It was too soon. There was still too much for you to do together, too much still to learn about him, and too much for him to learn about you. You hadn’t even had a serious fight yet; you didn’t know how he dealt with conflict or how you would react to it. You didn’t live together; you didn’t know how your living habits would match up or if they would drive each other insane. You didn’t know how you would deal with him touring being away for so long.

There was just too much you didn't know.

“I will someday.” You spoke gently, trying hard not to hurt his currently fragile feelings. You were now holding his face tenderly, like if you held him steady and close, you could lessen the blow.

“So, no?” he looked up at you with his big puppy dog eyes, feeling guilt punch you in the gut.

“For now. Everything is just going so well right now, we don’t have to mess with it.”

“Jus’ wanna be with you forever,” he said softly and your heart began to melt. He was such a soft person, who felt everything so deeply and with so much emotion. He was a sap, and you loved him for it. You pulled him closer to your chest, pressing soft kisses to his temple.

“And you will be,” you breathed. “Forever will still be there down the line.”

“Why not now?” His lips held an adorable pout and you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing a kiss to them. He tasted awful, like tequila and sweat, but the kiss was loving and sweet as you tried to pour all your love for him into it.

“Because we still have to grow,” you watched the end of his mouth tick up, sure to make some sort of smartass comment about you both being grown already. “We have to grow together,” you finished.

“I guess so,” he mused softly.

“I promise that I will say ‘yes’ when we are ready someday.”

“Someday,” he repeated softly, feeling the words on his own lips. “I’m going to keep asking, ya know?” he smirked up at you, his smile and joking tone signalling that you hadn’t broken his heart, just bruised his ego a bit.

“That’s perfectly okay,” you sighed, a contagious smile finding its way to your own lips. “I’m going to keep saying ‘no’ until we’re ready, ya know?” you teased, using his own words against him.

“One day, I’ll make an honest woman outta ya when you let me.”

“One day.”

Thank you reading!! Reblogs/feedback mean the world!!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles concept #one direction #one direction fanfiction #harryandhockey #my writing

970 notes · View notes

poppywrites41 · 3 years

Text

Captive Love Ch. 4

Hello. Yes. I am alive and I am so sorry I have not posted. I have been so busy and have not had time to sit down and write but I now have a little bit of time to writs so I popped this chapter out.

I hope you all enjoy and please please please leave feedback!💜

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS. This fic does NOT represent the boys is ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM.

also: MINORS GTFO

Warnings for this chapter: noncon fingering, public fingering, swearing(? I can’t remember what I wrote to be honest I did this at 2 am lmao) and anything else I missed

If you are uncomfortable with noncon, then i sadly suggest you leave this fic alone.

Prev | Next

Y/N rushed back to the servant’s house and locked herself in her room. Heart beating a million miles a minute, she slumped to the ground and cried. “Why did I do that?!” she sobbed, “Now the princes will be keeping their eyes on me…” All the poor girl could do was cry until she fell asleep.

The next morning, Y/N was jolted from her sleep when she heard a knock at her door. Fearing that it could be Lilith about to throw a fit as to why she wasn’t working or worse, Jungkook, she shrunk back further into her room.

“Y/N” the voice of Emily said from the other side of the door, “are you alright love?” Y/N let out a huge sigh of relief at hearing her friend’s voice. “E-Emily!” she said. “Can you let me in love?” Emily asked. Standing on wobbly legs, Y/N opened her door revealing Emily, Elizabeth and the girl she recognized as the one Jungkook was about to humiliate.

“Oh Y/N! You’re alright! Are you alright?! Did they do anything to you?!” Emily cries out as she begins inspecting her. “I-I’m fine! Really. How did you-” “Maria told us what happened” Elizabeth said gesturing to the girl.

The girl ran to Y/N and gave her a big hug, “Thank you miss! Thank you for saving me. I am so sorry for causing you trouble…”

“It’s alright really,” Y/N told her, rubbing the girls back to comfort her, “I spoke with Prince Yoongi, and he let us off with a warning, but that he will not give us another.”

“What happened after Maria left?” Emily inquired.

Y/N took a breath and told them what happened. However, once she finished her story, it was time to work. As Y/N got ready she feared what would happen if she ran into the princes again.

Luckily, Y/N, Elizabeth and Emily were assigned to cleaning all the dishware in the kitchen, far away from the princes, which brought all of them some peace…

_________________________________________________________

Yoongi couldn’t focus on his book all day. All he could think about was that “stupid servant girl” as he told himself. He could not for the life of him find a reason to justify his actions on releasing her from punishment. He loved giving punishments! So why… He hasn’t seen the girl all day and it was starting to bug him for some reason. Did she skip work? Now that was a good reason to punish her. But that would be odd just going out of his way to find a specific servant to punish. It would definitely capture the attention of his brothers. Had she gotten in trouble with one of his brothers? Had she-

“Oh brother!” Jungkook said barging into his room with a big smile, “I wish I was there to see it! Next time I hope to partake in the event. I can just imagine her screams… Oh I bet they were lovely! Was her skin smooth before you tore it up?? Oh, how I wish I could have felt it before she was marred…”

“All women’s backs are the same Jungkook. Smooth.” Yoongi retorts.

“Not all of them brother,” the younger huffed, “That maid was exceptionally beautiful. Could have passed as a daughter of a lord if you ask me.”

“Well,” Yoongi huffed, “it’s over with and she has learned her mistake.”

The youngest brother hummed as he paced around his older brother’s bedroom.

Yoongi closed his book with a sigh of annoyance, “What is it Kook?”

“It’s not fair you got the fun. Sure, hunting was fun…But I feel left out. Maybe I should push the girl into making another mistake so that I can take a turn with her!”

“Now why would you want that? You never mess with the servant girls to get them to mess up.”

“I know. They usually just accept whatever happens. But this girl brother, she’s different. She has fight and that intrigues me. I want to break her.” The youngest brother smirks deviously.

“Jungkook-” Yoongi stops his snap back at his younger brother. He cannot let them see that he wants to protect her. He waves his hand and gets up to walk to the door, “Don’t be stupid. There are plenty of women more worthy of your time than her. She’s just a rat. The gala is starting. Mother and Father are expecting us.”

Yoongi left for the dining room leaving Jungkook to his own thoughts.

_________________________________________________________

Once their chores were finished the girls were given some time to rest before serving dinner to the guests. So they all went to Y/N’s room to finish what they were talking about that morning.

“Well!” Elizabeth sighs sitting on the bed, “I’ve never heard of the princes letting a servant off the hook, let alone Prince Yoongi. He especially never lets anyone go unpunished.”

“Do you think he wasn’t in the mood?” Emily asked.

“No,” Elizabeth said, “He is always in the mood to punish. This is strange. Why would he…”

“Well, he still did threaten me with a ‘next time’ but I think he’s not all that bad as what others make him out to be.” Y/N said nervously.

“Oh no hun! There must be an ulterior motive. Now Jungkook is not as bad of a threat as Yoongi, so you definitely need to steer clear of any more interactions between any of the princes. Just do your job and do it well to avoid any more unfortunate events.” She said with a worried face.

Before anyone could respond, the bell rang throughout the quarters.

“Well, it’s time for dinner to be served to the family and their guests. Let’s go ladies and remember,” she said to all of them but looking at Y/N, “do your job and lay low.”

“Alright ladies! It’s almost time to begin the dinner. You all know your roles so grab your platter or pitcher and get out to the floor! I do NOT want any accidents tonight!” Lilith said.

Everyone began moving and grabbing platters of elegantly arranged foods and large pitchers of wine, ale and water.

Y/N looked at Emily and sighed as she was one of the girls who would serve wine to the guests.

Emily squeezed her arm, “It’ll be alright Y/N. There are so many girls serving drinks so hopefully you won’t be near the royal family.

“I hope” Y/N sighed and made her way to the hall.

_________________________________________________________

The dining hall was massive. All decorated with expensive paintings and golden decorative features. One long table seating up to 200 guests including the royal family at the end. The royal band playing softly as to not drown out to conversations happening at the table.

Y/N took a breath and made her way towards her guest filling their chalices with wine, not looking them in the eyes as to not taint their status with her inferiority.

The night was surprisingly going well, she had not had one interaction with a royal member. She was beginning to relax. Maybe tonight won’t turn out to be so bad. Everyone had finished the main course and it was almost time for Y/N’s 15-minute break. All she had to do was wait for an esteemed guest to tap their glass and she would refill it with the sweet wine she carried.

“More wine please!” a feminine voice called.

Y/N looked up towards the people she had been serving wine the entire night to only to see that no one at her end had asked for wine. She looked around in confusion until Lilith elbowed her in the side, “The Queen wants more wine girl.”

“T-The Q-Queen?” Y/N whispers.

“Yes!” Lilith hissed, “Rose is still on her break so just go fill her chalice! Go now!” she said shoving the poor girl towards the other end of the table.

‘That’s where the princes are!!’ Y/N screamed in her head.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Emily trying to get Elizabeth to take her place but Y/N kept walking towards the Queen’s seat.

“Ah finally!” the Queen laughed, “The wine is here! What took you so long girl?! Are we out of wine?”

Y/N did not know what to say. Her brain was malfunctioning. She had the word but couldn’t get them out in fear of saying something wrong.

“When the Queen addressed you, you respond servant!” a deep voice spoke.

Y/N flinched.

“Look at me girl.” The voice said again. Y/N looked up and into the glaring eyes of Prince Namjoon. “Are you mute girl?” Y/N shakes her head. “Are you dumb?” Y/N shakes her head.

“Words.”

“N-No your highness.” She said in a shaky voice her eyes finding Prince Yoongi’s piercing stare causing her to look down at the floor.

“Then answer the Queen.”

Y/N turned to the Queen with a bow, “A-Apologies your majesty. W-We are n-not out o-of wine.”

“Ah,” she said sliding her chalice withing Y/N’s reach to pour, “well the room is big and there is a lot of chatter so it must have been a little difficult to hear. I will let it slide, but I expect this to not happen again.”

“Y-Yes your majesty. T-Thank you.” Y/N bowed again.

She was about to turn back when she heard another voice that frightened her.

“I need a refill as well.”

Jungkook.

Legs shaking, Y/N turned and walked towards Jungkook’s seat. When she reached him, he pushed his glass further into the table beyond her reach.

“So sorry but I am still eating. You can grab it and refill yourself I hope?” he said giving her a smile that looked innocent but she, and Yoongi, knows the trouble behind it.

Y/N bowed her head and leaned over to get the glass, which was properly placed to where her bum was right next to the prince. As she clutched the glass, she felt a hand slip under her dress and rest on her thigh. She almost dropped the glass but let out a small gasp when the hand tightened on her.

“Pour the wine like that and do not move. Unless you want trouble.” Prince Jungkook said in a low voice. “And pour it slow.” He added.

Y/N shut her eyes to keep the tears from escaping and began to pour the wine slowly. Her eyes flew open when she felt a pinch on the inside of her thigh. “Open your eyes rabbit. Or you will spill, and it will be all over for you.” The youngest prince threatens.

Y/N opens her eyes slowly trying to keep the tears at bay, eyes focused on the glass.

“Slower.” The prince orders.

The trail of wine turns into a small trickle while the prince’s hand makes it to the girl’s panties.

Y/N stifles a sob when Jungkook’s hand rubs at the fabric, her face turning red. Once he finds her nub, he pinches it, causing her to give a silent gasp and a single tear.

They both stop what they are doing when they hear a clank of silverware against a plate. They look up to see Prince Yoongi staring at them with an unamused look. Y/N thought she saw anger in his eyes, but she wasn’t sure through her watery eyes.

She is snapped back to reality when she feels her panties being pulled to the side. She was even more horrified when she felt some slick disconnect from her panties. How did she get wet?

“You’re wet my sweet rabbit,” Jungkook chuckles as his fingers swirl around in her slick, “Why don’t you keep pouring my wine love? And look at my brother the whole time.”

“P-Please…” Y/N whispered, “P-Please d-don’t.”

“You want me to stop?” Jungkook whispered, “But you are so wet rabbit. It would be unfair.”

“But t-they-”

“Are too buzzed to notice, well except my brother right there. Let’s give him a show. Now pour. And no sounds.” He ordered, his hands beginning to rub her nub in circles.

Giving a silent whimper, she resumed her task whilst keeping eye contact with Yoongi, her eyes red and watery.

When Jungkook figured his fingers were slick enough, he slid a finger into her pussy. Both of them shuddered. One with fear and one with delight.

Y/N wanted to scream in pain while Jungkook almost came in his pants.

“My sweet rabbit, are you a virgin?” he whispered, earning himself a silent sob from the girl to confirm his suspicions, “Oh how fun! I’m your first fingerfuck.”

With that, he inserted a second finger earning himself a squeeze from her cunt and began pumping in a out. He looked at his brother and smirked, knowing that he was hard as well and began to pump faster.

Jungkook was in heaven. His fingers were being squeezed by the girl’s cunt. Oh, how he wished he could see her face. He then noticed that his wine glass was full, and that the girl was clutching the table liner. Jungkook looked around and noticed that no one noticed what was going on. They were all pretty much drunk except for him, Yoongi and the girl.

Jungkook then grabbed Y/N by the waist and pulled her into his lap and hiked up her skirt a bit more. The new angle allowed him to thrust his fingers deeper.

Y/N looked away to not face the other prince only to have her face turned towards Jungkook.

“Look at me rabbit,” he whispered, “I want to see your face when you come.”

Y/N opened her teary eyes to him and clenched his jacket as she felt something start to blossom in her. Jungkook immediately knew she was close and angled himself so that he and his older brother can see her come undone by the prince’s fingers.

Y/N began to cry and pull Jungkook’s hand away.

“N-No! Please s-stop…I-I can’t”

Jungkook was much stronger than her and kept going, relishing in how her thighs started grinding together.

“You will rabbit,” he whispered in her ear, “You will not refuse my gift of giving you pleasure. Now cum.”

Y/N felt her high come crashing down unwelcomed. She suddenly felt weak and fell back into the prince’s chest as she let out a choked sob. The prince pulled her skirt back in place, patted her arms and pushed her onto her feet, the poor girl breathing heavily and unstable.

“There you go. I hope you enjoyed that as much as we did!” He said with a smile, “Now back to work with you. Thank you for the drink rabbit.”

Y/N grabbed her pitcher with shaking hands and looked at prince as he took his fingers covered in her release and stuck them in his mouth, moaning in pleasure, “and thank you for the desert. Compliments to the chef!” he said with a wink.

Still crying, Y/N bowed to the prince and hurried off to the break room.

Jungkook chuckled and turned to his brother who had a tint of pink to his cheeks.

“She was cute, wasn’t she?” the youngest asked his older brother with a smile, “She’s a virgin brother! Her sweet release tasted like nothing I have ever had before. You must try it for yourself sometime brother!”

The older prince chugged his wine and nodded, “Interesting. She is an intrigues girl I must say. I will have to investigate more on her.”

“You mean ‘in’ her?” Jungkook smirks.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. He could not get that image of Y/N’s face when she came. She looked so beautiful so fragile. It made him want to break her. Want to punish her for cumming by Jungkook’s hand.

The want to break her, punish her, fuck her.

Once Y/N made it to the break room, Elizabeth and Emily were about to head back out to the feast to serve.

“Y/N!” Emily said, “How was the Queen? Was she mad? Did she punish- Oh my god! Are you alright!?” She begins to panic when she sees Y/N’s tear-stained face.

“Y/N, sweetie, is everything okay?” Elizabeth began, noticing Y/N was not focusing on anything in the room and that her eyes are blank.

Y/N started to have a panic attack. Her heart began to beat faster, her mind racing a million miles a minute, her vision began to blacken and her hearing was going in and out.

“Y/N…. hear me….Y/N!!.............help!.......You’re going…………..Y/N!!!”

Tags: @d-noona

Please let me know if you want to be tagged!

194 notes · View notes

cinnamonrusts · 3 years

Text

i’ll see you in the village -- 7 (final)

parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Chris is overjoyed to see you safe and sound in his arms, despite Ethan crumbling before his eyes. Despite the circumstances -- is this happily ever after for Chris and yourself? (chris redfield x f!reader)

a/n: we’ve reached the end of this series! thank you all for your love and support! i enjoyed writing this so much, xoxo.

✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

Chris’s lips felt chapped against your cold skin and you could feel the coolness of his sweat from his cheek in the freezing air. Your eyes examined his face as he repeated his words, “You’re okay. You’re okay,” you were unsure if he meant the reassurance for you or himself, but nonetheless - hearing his real voice was soothing.

“Chris?” you asked again. His attention turned to you and his grip tightened around your hand, “Yeah? You okay?” he asked. You hummed and gave a weak nod, “It-It’s pretty cold out here. Th-these bad boys could cut glass right now...” your free hand covered the exposed upper half of your body. Chris chuckled, he couldn’t believe that everything you’d been through -- you could still crack a joke and make him laugh. That was one of the things he loved most about you.

He helped you lean up with his palm gently placed between your shoulder blades, “Let’s get you somewhere safe--,” Chris started but stopped when the roots that covered the landscape near the two of you withered away. When the area opened, Ethan Winters was on his knees with his infant daughter clutched in his arms. Chris looked toward you then to Ethan before he turned back, “I’m alright,” you assured him and watched as the man ran to his friend. “Ethan!” Chris called as he shook the blonde’s shoulder. Ethan’s head hung down over his daughter but remained silent. The Alpha’s voice cracked as he feared for the worst in regards to the father who was finally reunited with his child.

✧.*

A huge mass of black roots rose from just in front of the horizon and Chris quickly slinked his arm around Ethan to pull him in your direction. “Can you walk, [Y/N]?!” he called out. Your head nodded quickly as you pushed yourself up from the ground - whether you could or not, you would. It had been quite sometime since you walked on your own, so you wobbled side to side a few times before you were able to stand still. You pulled the lab coat closed and waddled to Ethan’s aide, then slinked an arm around the other half of his body. “It’s-it’s nice to finally meet you, Ethan. I’ve heard quite a bit about you,” you said with kindness heavy in your tone. Ethan remained silent but he slowly lifted his head and gave you a weak smile.

The mass of roots opened and revealed it was the Megamycete that Miranda praised during her rule of the village. Chris quickened his pace which was troublesome for Ethan and yourself as you were gaining back your strength while Ethan was losing his. “There’s a bomb in that thing that’ll blow this village sky-high!” Chris informed. “A bomb?!” you yelled. Chris pulled out a detonation device, “When I hit this trigger, we can’t be anywhere near it!” Despite this worrisome news, Ethan paused in his tracks which stopped the two of you, your eyebrows furrowed as you noticed Ethan seemed to get worse. Chris did his best to encourage the man to keep going by telling him that his wife was alive.

“Mia..?” Ethan asked. “Yes! Keep going, Ethan. Knowing that [Y/N] helped me when I felt like it was the end. You can do it too...” Chris kept egging him on before you stopped him when you said his name firmly. The infant looked up to her father with love in her saucer orbs while Ethan looked down to her, “I’m so sorry... I love you...” Ethan handed baby Rose to Chris who was reluctant to accept her, “Tell her yourself,” his voice dropped when he realized what Winters was doing. Ethan removed his coat and covered his daughter with it, his condition worsened as each minute passed in the frigid outdoors. “Teach her to be strong...”

“Chris, give me the trigger,” you reached for it but his grip was tight. He was reluctant to give you it because he knew that you’d give it to Ethan, “It’s what he wants,” you grabbed it again and this time you were able to yank it free. Just as you passed it to him, he pushed you out of the way from an attacking root. You stumbled backward into Chris who then pulled you tight to his body with Rose tucked safely in his arm. Ethan stood on the opposite side with the trigger in his deteriorated hand, “Goodbye, Rosemary.”

✧.*

When you heard Ethan’s voice crack with tears, you could feel your heart tear because it was so evident the love he had for his daughter. Ethan fought through hell and high water to reach her. He disposed of the Lords and managed to destroy Miranda (something that you couldn’t even do) - and now decided to sacrifice himself so the three of you could escape this European prison.

Chris knew that any more protests would fall upon deaf ears and he said goodbye to his friend. Ethan was armed with the detonator and the three of you needed to get the hell out of there - so he grabbed hold of your waist and ran off to safety before the explosion would detonate...

The helicopter was like a saving grace and you were relieved to see it because you knew that it meant you’d finally be free of this place. It had been days since you’d arrived. You were subjected to physical harm, torture, and whatever Miranda did...was it still inside of you? Your future was uncertain but instead of being afraid now for it now, you would live in the moment and worry later.

Mia, Ethan’s wife, was overjoyed to see her daughter safe in Chris’s arms. However, this soon darkened when the group lacked an important member. “Where’s Ethan?” she cried out as the helicopter took off into the air. Her eyes darted frantically as she ached for an answer from someone, anyone! You sat down on a seat and Tundra approached you, she gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Great to see you safe, [Y/N].” you smiled and nodded, “Yeah, good to see you guys too.” It was difficult but you tried your best to not make eye contact with Mia, you waited for Chris to give her the news - it wasn’t your place, you felt.

Her anger boiled as she demanded that Chris answered her. But the answer was not what she expected as the blast from the explosion rocked the helicopter and the bright flash blinded mostly everyone in the craft. Mia rushed to the circular window and observed the fiery inferno that engulfed the land below. “I told you to sit down...” Chris spoke, his voice dark. She wouldn’t look away, “What have you done?” she asked, sadness tore at her throat. Mia fell into a swarm of tears and Chris punched the wall of the cabin, “I tried.” his voice cracked as he fought back tears. “He stayed so we all could escape.”

✧.*

You pushed yourself up from your seat to try and comfort Mia. It was too difficult to watch her mourn as her head hung heavily over Rose, who cooed at her mother - she was a glimmer in the darkness. But when you took a step in her direction, your head felt like it was spinning. Soon, you ended up on the floor of the helicopter and began convulsing. Chris and two members of your squad rushed to your aid. They did their best to get you to answer them but you remained silent as your body shook uncontrollably for several seconds. Not long after, you stopped and laid completely still with your eyes wide open. Chris scooped you up and placed your upper half in the bend of his arm. “[Y/N]!?”

Suddenly, small fractures began to crack across your skin and spread out throughout the entirety of your body. Chris panicked when he noticed and his hands tried to hold the pieces that began to fall away from your core. Your skin turned white and broke like ceramic; Chris held you tighter but it only caused you to crumble more. “Chris...” you gained consciousness somewhat and struggled to speak. He hushed you, “Don’t say anything, just-just relax.” Chris rocked you back and forth in a soothing matter, but he was sure to be careful. “Chris. I-I...” you lifted your arm up slowly and cupped his cheek in your crumbled hand, which was now just a few fingers and mostly empty spaces.

“I love you...” just as you spoke your last words... you crumbled into the same material as the others before you who were infected with the mold. When the ashy pieces tumbled away, all that remained in Chris’s arms was a crystalized statue of your torso. Just the same as what Ethan picked up after he disposed of the Lords and the creatures that were scattered throughout the village.

Chris was speechless as he observed your remains that were still clutched tightly in his arms. “Alpha, I--,” Tundra attempted to sympathize with her superior, despite being in shock herself. She reached out to touch his shoulder but he slapped her hand away.

“Because we destroyed the Megamycete -- it took [Y/N] with it.” his thumb rubbed the smooth crystal as tears fell from his eyes.

“And someone’s gonna pay ---,”

#resident evil #resident evil x reader #chris redfield x reader #reader x chris redfield #chris redfield/reader #chris redfield #resident evil 8 #i feel this ending could've been better #maybe i will revise it #one day

116 notes · View notes

violet-knox · 4 years

Note

heyy :) I saw that your asks were open and of course I read your rules before coming here and I was wondering if you can write an adult snape fic where the reader is a fellow professor that he’s know from his childhood and they start to rekindle thier relationship

thanks in advance and keep up the great work !! <33

Gifts of the Past

Pairing: Snape x Professor!Reader

Summary: Severus thought his week couldn’t get any worse after finding out he’d need to teach his Slytherin’s to dance until Dumbledore announces the arrival of a new Professor joining the staff.

Word Count: 6207

A/N: So when I read these requests, this idea formed in my head and I couldn’t help but merge them (side note: as the first request didn’t specify a gender while the second did, I adhered to the first). I hope both requests were satisfied while also providing a unique piece to the ever growing list of snape x reader stories on here and I hope you enjoy it! Thank you to both anons (I’m assuming you’re two different people) for your asks and your kind words!

Also I know the gif I picked is suggestive but the reader is gender neutral which I’m proud of because it was very difficult to keep it that way with the dancing scenes. I just thought the gif was so beautiful when I found it, just look at that cuff 🤤 but the gif choice doesn’t hint to the reader’s gender or race as it may appear.

Nothing could have brightened his mood more than the thought of him walking into the Great Hall and finding the entire school deserted. It was really the only way Merlin could make up for the hand he’d been dealt this year and every other year since Potter invaded Hogwarts. This year however, the boy was clearly attempting to test his natural gift to bring trouble as the past three years hadn’t provided him with sufficient danger to prove his talent. It was bad enough he’d brought such a dangerous tournament to the school, but of course he had to go and get himself picked despite being underaged. Severus felt like he hadn’t gone a day without stressing since Dumbledore first made the announcement about the Triwizard Tournament and just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, the old Wizard had to instruct the head of houses to prepare their students for the Yule ball, as if the schools only Potion’s Master didn’t already have enough on his plate.

He’d spent the rest of the day sulking after his attempts to persuade the Headmaster someone else should take up the privilege of teaching his Slytherin’s to dance failed. Sleep could barely find him last night as he kept hoping he’d wake up from this nightmare, that the universe would cut him a break, but it was clear as he walked by the tables housing the school’s guests, his eyes shooting Dumbledore daggers as he passed the smiling man on his way to his seat at the high table, that he wouldn’t rest so long as Potter slept under the same roof as him. He slouched in his seat and waited for the day to begin so he could look forward to its end, staring so hard at the table before him, he was sure it would eventually catch fire if food didn’t replace his rage soon.

Dumbledore stood and cleared his throat to make his morning announcements, Severus finding himself focussing his anger towards him the more he rambled on about the first task and the current status of the tournament. His resentment towards the man only grew as he mentioned the Yule ball until he introduced the new professor who would replace Septima Vector for Arithmancy until the end of the year, a very familiar name washing away all his anger and replacing it with absolute horror. His head snapped to the side as he watched you stand with a smile, waving at the students who clapped for you. Severus’ eyes widened as he forced himself to join them, giving a few shallow claps but finding himself unable to slip out of the astoundment he found himself in.

You smiled and looked over towards Severus as you sat back down, sensing everyone’s anticipation for breakfast to begin. You caught his eye and saw the shock written all over his face before breaking your stare and shifting your eyes to your lap. At least the expression on his face told you he hadn’t tried to ignore you when he’d walked right past you this morning to his seat at the high table. There were no words to describe how you’d been feeling today. Nervous about your first day as a professor at Hogwarts, concerned about being accepted into the family of staff, anxious to see Severus again after all these years and absolutely heartbroken when he didn’t even acknowledge you as he walked past you like you meant nothing to him.

The food appeared in front of you not long after you sat down, but you could hardly find your appetite as you felt Severus continuously glancing your way every chance he got. You did your best to chat with your new colleagues, keeping up polite conversation as they ate while you picked at your food. You watched Severus chug whatever beverage was in his goblet as he left his own plate completely untouched. He was the first to leave the table, watching with a frown as he slinked away behind some side door with no idea where it led. You let out a small sigh as you sat back in your seat, beginning to wonder if this career choice was a good idea. When Dumbledore approached you, mentioning Severus was now teaching at Hogwarts, serving as Potion’s master and Head of Slytherin, you felt excited. You’d missed him over the years since graduation, finding yourself regretting a lot about your relationship as time went on. But you’d taken this job offer as a sign to reconnect, a second chance to do what you didn’t have the courage for back during your school days.

You were so naive back then, thinking letters would be enough to keep you in contact with him after graduation, that you were closer to Severus than it seemed, but it was nothing more than a silly illusion created by your imagination. Looking back, you’d found yourself always claiming there was no good time to tell him how you felt, that you really liked him as something more than just a friend, but that was just an excuse for the fear you held onto every time you thought of him rejecting you. After seeing how close he was with Lily, how he buried himself in his schoolwork and made new friends when their friendship burned to the ground, you’d tried to push yourself, to be there for him and show him there was still someone in his life who thought he was worthy. But no matter what you did, you felt nearly as invisible as you did now, and perhaps in all these years since the war had ended, nothing had truly changed.

One by one, professors and students began to file out of the Great Hall and as the room emptied, you slowly began to find yourself in complete distress, unsure of what to do about Severus, about this job and your possible conflict of interest. Pushing through, you tried to ignore your feelings and all thoughts of the Potion’s Master to focus on your classes. The day went by faster than you’d initially thought, each class easier than the last as the students seemed to accept you and your teaching style. Before you knew it, dinner had rolled around and knowing Severus had skipped lunch, eating nothing at breakfast, you anticipated seeing him already seated at the high table when you entered the room. Pausing a moment, you debated on what you should do, but your heart had already decided for you, your feet walking faster than you could process until you found yourself taking a seat next to him.

“Hi Sev.” You spoke in such a low voice, soft yet reserved, like you were introducing yourself to a complete stranger. It saddened you that you felt so nervous with Severus when you used to be so close once upon a time. He looked back at you with those wide eyes of his and the more you stared into them, the more you felt like you didn’t know him at all.

“(Y/N).” He stated your name with just a hint of surprise in his tone like his child-self was introducing you to him. He’d spent the day with such a headache thinking about what happened this morning, about you and everything that’s piled onto him. When he thought of you, he remembered the childhood friend who’d stuck by his side, who he’d taken for granted and who he could talk to about anything. But he struggled to feel that way again, to feel comfortable enough around you to open up to you and he wished that wasn’t the case. He needed someone to talk to, he needed someone there by his side these past few miserable years, but he could see now that he truly wasn’t deserving of such a thing, that he’d forever spend his life alone because that’s the card he’d dealt himself all those years ago and he had no right to try and get back what he’d lost.

“It’s nice to see you again.” You smiled, hoping this dense air between you would lighten with a bit of small talk. You wanted to tell him how much you missed him, his friendship and how close you once were. Everything was so much simpler back when you were eleven, still new to Hogwarts and oblivious to the world’s problems. Now, everything was different. You were both grown adults with responsibilities, changed as people and you weren’t even sure you’d mix well with him anymore.

“You too.” Severus happily retorted your attempt at making small talk, desperate to clasp at anything that could restore your lost friendship. Even as food appeared before him, he made no notion of filling his plate, his attention instead lay completely with you. “I-I had no idea you were joining the staff this year.”

You broke your gaze from his eyes and looked down at the table filled with food, your goblet was full and ready to be drunk, every other person in the room already indulging themselves in a well deserved meal. Looking over at Severus’ plate you found it as empty as yours, like he hadn’t even noticed the food had appeared as his eyes continued to study you while you slowly began to fill your plate, feeling less and less hungry as the seconds ticked by.

“It was a last minute decision,” you said, continuing to avoid his eyes as you began to nibble on a muffin. Severus watched you a moment, feeling comfortable enough to eat for the first time that day as he picked up a sandwich.

“I’m glad you decided to take the job,” he said, keeping his gaze on you as much as he could before munching on his food. His tone sounded so sincere and you couldn’t help but stare at him, wondering how he truly felt about you being here. This morning, you’d felt so hurt by his cold shoulder, almost ready to quit if things didn’t go as well as they did during your first lesson for your classes throughout the day. Now, here he was claiming to be happy you were sitting here beside him, and you so badly wanted to believe that.

“Oh?” you asked curiously, hoping he meant what he said, hoping there was a chance to at least regain your old friendship. “Because it didn’t seem that way this morning.”

Severus’ eyes suddenly took on the weight of the world as he looked down at his lap. You could feel his own disappointment in himself, his shoulders slouching, his hair falling over his face in the same way it always did when you were kids. Clearly things hadn’t changed that much, and you were almost happy to see you still knew him as well as you did.

“I apologize. I admit, you’ve caught me in a rather unpleasant mood,” Severus stated, feeling guilty for how he’d acted this morning. You were right. He should have said something to you, noticed you before Dumbledore spoke your name or at the very least came to find you earlier in the day to apologize sooner.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked him, relieved his stiffened attitude wasn’t the doing of the fact you’d re-entered his life. You turned your body towards him and began to feel like a child again, meeting Severus outside in the courtyard to talk about your day, to let him unburden his issues on you as you comforted him.

“There was a Head of House meeting yesterday. We were told by the Headmaster the responsibility of preparing the students for the Yule ball lay in our hands.”

You smiled, surprising a giggle as you remembered the night of Slughorn’s party, Severus tripping over his own feet when you asked him to dance with you, though you didn’t blame him for it after he’d just gone through his growth spurt. He had no such excuse now of course, but you could tell he hadn’t danced since that day, that he worried about how a lesson may go with his students, especially after the reputation you heard he held as a professor at Hogwarts.

“If you’d like, I could help with your lessons,” you offered without a second thought.

“You would do that?” Severus looked at you in awe, rather stunned by your selflessness after how he’d treated you. He couldn’t believe his luck, how you’d shown up just in time to help him with a secret he’d been dreading would be the talk of the entire school after he failed to teach his students to dance. He could only imagine the loss of respect he’d gain after working so hard to earn it all these years, how the students would make fun of him, how he’d never be able to step foot in the staffroom again without being ridiculed.

“Of course. Anything for an old friend.” You sounded almost hurt as you spoke, knowing he’d likely see you as nothing more than an old friend. But if the universe had placed you in this new job, pushed you to him, perhaps you were meant to take the second chance and risk your current relationship with him. You were after all being trusted enough to help him develop his dancing skills, something you were sure the scary professor of the dungeons wouldn’t easily entrust to anyone. “Care to begin after dinner?”

Severus nodded with a smile, a look of content settling on his face and for a moment, you could have sworn you saw his eyes twinkle, something you hadn’t seen since the first day he’d stepped foot on Hogwarts grounds. You both continued your meal, Severus feeling calmer as he continued speaking with you, catching up on what you’d been up to all these years. Thoughts of the tournament, the upcoming war, the Potter boy’s knack for finding trouble slipping his mind if not for a brief moment. He allowed himself instead to turn back the clock to a time much simpler than his current life, a time where Lily was still alive, where he still had a friend who cared about him. He’d taken for granted so much of his life as a boy, so much of his younger years spent filled with hatred and resentment towards those he blamed for making him miserable that he’d missed all the good parts he could only hope to regain now as an adult. You were the one constant in his life, the one thing that didn’t complicate his life, the one person he could count on and he’d completely dismissed what you had to offer. He was a fool for focussing on what he didn’t have rather than what he did have, a greedy teenager who should have seen what was right in front of his eyes.

Finishing off your food, you followed Severus down to the dungeons once the crowd of students had scattered throughout the castle. You walked alongside him, unable to help yourself from smiling at how easily you’d both settled back into your old selves, back to when your only concerns involved grades and who would win the next Quidditch match. You felt oddly nostalgic as you looked around the potion’s classroom, the layout exactly the same as when you were a student. You took your time to look around as Severus wove his wand and cleared some space. Walking up to the desk at the front of the room, you picked up the old quill sitting next to a pile of scrolls in the corner.

“You still have this?” You smiled as you ran the tips of your fingers along the feather, still intact and preserved rather well after all these years. You could still remember the look on Severus’ face when you’d given him the quill set you’d spent the majority of your money on for Christmas in your seventh year; complete shock with a dash of regret that he couldn’t afford something equally as stunning. He’d promised that one day he’d repay your kindness, that when he’d made something of himself, he’d buy you something worth ten times as much as the quill set that had gotten him through his Potion’s Mastery and all his days as a professor.

As time passed, the memory the quill held began to fade and slowly, he’d forgotten the promise he made. He walked over to you and took the quill from your hand, realizing just how much he truly had to make up for after all these years. He set it back down on the desk and began to wonder if Merlin had sent you here for a reason, if his redemption wasn’t just about protecting Lily’s son, but about reconnecting with those who’d supported him, who he’d brushed away and to take the second chance at a normal life he was being offered.

“I never thanked you properly for that gift,” he said under his breath as he stared at the quill, now the centerpiece of his desk, a new reminder for what he owed you. His eyes filled with longing, the sparkle you saw earlier slowly dwindling away as he hung his head low. You looked at him with such awe. Life had not been kind to him since graduation, that was clear through the weight he carried. He frowned when you asked him what he’d been up to since you last saw him, flashes of all his mistakes, all his sins passing before him. You could see it and it pained you to know that he hadn’t lived through the dreams he’d once shared with you as a child.

“You don’t need to thank me Sev, that was a long time ago,” you told him with a smile, beyond touched that he’d kept something as simple as a quill when you knew he could afford much better now. He’d taken care of it, even kept the original nibs that came with the set and the inkwell which no doubt had to take a chunk of his time just to clean it out and refill.

Taking his hand, you led him to the center of the classroom, turning to face him, gently positioning his hands to begin your first dry run of the dance you would soon share with him every evening before bed. His limbs obeyed you as you took his hand and pressed yourself to him, closer than you’d been all those years back when he’d first danced with you.

“Just, take it slow and let me lead. And then we can switch,” you whispered to him as you began to sway across the floor. The room fell into a soft silence as you led him, his feet struggling to follow yours at first, but he was a quick study as usual. Eventually, you felt confident enough in his movements to let him lead, switching position as you continued to sway in silence, Severus’ eyes lost in yours until the minutes passed by, turning into days. Before you knew it, you’d spent every evening after dinner for the past week with Severus, dancing with him for hours until it was time for bed.

You’d never felt so close to someone as you did with him now, like that missing part of your soul had finally found itself again. A week had passed, yet you felt like you’d lived here for years as he had. Every time he held you in his arms, your heart slowed to match his even beat, your eyes flickering between his and his lips. You wanted to tell him how you felt about him, how much you’d admired him, how you’d always loved and cared about him even when he didn’t notice you, but every time you tried, your heart collapsed in on itself, stopping you in fear of ruining what you had now just like it had when you were kids. The emotions you felt when he pulled you closer were too much, when he looked deep into your eyes and gave you that smile like he was trying to bring you both back to that night at Slughorn’s party, how different things may have turned out if he’d known how to dance. Perhaps you would have had the courage to tell him how you felt then, kissed him before he’d tripped over himself. Time was such a delicate fragment in the ensembled artwork of the universe, affected by every movement, every word spoken by every human being on earth.

Looking into his eyes, you saw that same twinkle he seemed to only let shine for you. It had been him who’d insisted he needed to practice again and again every night. It was him who’d always led you to his classroom, locking the doors and even bringing music to keep you both company as you danced the night away. He was as mysterious as the students had said, as lonely as your colleagues had told you, but you didn’t want to believe it. He was still that boy you met in the library in first year no matter the life he lived.

“Severus?” you whispered, his face so close to yours, his hands holding yours tightly. He looked at you with wonder, waiting for your words, for the question he knew you’d kept on the tip of your tongue since the day you'd arrived. He feared it, worried about what you may think of him if he answered it truthfully. He had yet to share everything about his life, how he’d betrayed your memory, his promise to you, that he was to blame for the death of their friend. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You sounded so nervous, your eyes shifting down to look away from him and his concern suddenly grew. He stopped his motions as he held you still, waiting for the words he feared would slip your tongue. His hand tightened his hold on you, needing you to stay with him, to keep him company. You’d become the only thing this past week that kept him at peace, that kept him alive. He looked forward to your evenings together, the thought of simply swaying through the classroom the only thing keeping him whole.

“What is it?” he mumbled cautiously, a bit of resentment present in his tone.

You’d terrified him, you could see your words worried him to no end. You couldn’t tell how he would react if you told him the truth and you weren’t sure if you could handle it. You’d both cherished every moment you had together again, cherished the past, the present and the future you could see alongside one another, but you weren’t sure how much you could bear the days if all he saw in you was an old friend. Thoughts of how happy he’d seemed the last few days roamed in your mind, playing on repeat, bleeding into your childhood memories. You could almost feel your emotions reciprocated as you looked at him, your chest pressed to his as you leaned in, Severus frozen in his place, his mind blank with awe.

Words could never be enough to describe how you felt, to tell him how much he meant to you. But Severus was never one with words anyways, never caring for them as he always read people better through their actions and as he did so now, he wondered why of all the people in the world, why of everyone you’d met in your life, he was the one you wanted to be close enough to press your lips to his. He wondered what made him so special, why he was so lucky to have you showing your affection for him through the gentle touch of a kiss. Your lips were barely parted, moving slower then he had when he danced with you. He could feel your nerves as you kissed him slowly wither away when he kissed you back.

Your hands grasped at him, and for a moment, when he felt you pull your hand away from his, he thought the moment had ended, only to be snapped back into it as your fingers were buried in his hair. Your free hand tugged at the ascot he wore, Severus finding himself pulled into you as you walked backwards, your lips never leaving his. You moved your lips eagerly until your back hit the wall, pulling Severus closer as you encouraged him to press himself into you. He moaned into your kiss, his hands wrapping around you, one pressed into your lower back, the other between your shoulder blades. His senses heightened as he tried to memorize the feeling of your kiss, of your figure under his fingertips, your chest against his, your legs entangling themselves with his.

You were almost disappointed when you both parted for air, huffing as you tried to catch your breaths, but the look on his face was more than worth the loss of contact. He looked as if he was still questioning reality, like he wasn’t sure about your intentions and of course, as before, words couldn’t help him make sense of the situation. Your hand slipped out of his hair instead and cupped his jaw, your thumb swiping across his cheek as he nuzzled into your touch. You could see the weight of the world returning as his smile weakened, his eyes closed as the soft sound of the music filled the room.

It broke your heart to see him like this, like he found himself unworthy of love, like he thought himself destined to be alone. You began peppering him with light kisses over his cheek, his nose, his jaw, what little skin of his neck you could reach until you finally saw his smile returning to his face. He opened his eyes and held his hand up to press against yours, still nuzzling into your touch as the twinkle in his eyes sparkled brighter than before.

“I’m not the same person you once knew,” he whispered, his heart breaking with every word, his instinct to push you away overtaking his need to have you as close to him as possible. He could hardly believe you felt this way about him, that after all these years, he’d been blinded by his own hatred to see what was in front of him and here he was trying to ruin what had yet to even be explored.

“Well, I’d be willing to get to know the new you if you’ll allow it,” you said softly, smiling as you showed no interest in running away from the spark between you.

“(Y/N), there’s something about my past you should know-”

“Sev,” you interrupted him when you saw the hurt in his eyes, the pain he brought on himself during such a sweet moment. You’d waited years for this day, and you weren’t about to let him ruin it when you knew he needed a moment like this. A short period of time to simply exist in the presence of someone that loved him, to forget the rest of the world and live in the moment. “You don’t have to tell me anything now.”

You knew he wasn’t ready, that he was only pushing himself to tell you whatever it was weighing on him because you’d kissed him. But you could wait until he was comfortable enough to share, until the time was right and now was not that time. You’d learned a lot this past week, how truly stressed he was, how the Yule Ball was far from the only thing that had him stressing every second of every day. He needed a chance to relax, to find harmony in his life and whatever secret he wanted to tell you would do the exact opposite.

Severus smiled as he felt the tension ease off his shoulders, the sound of the music returning to his ears. He reached down and took your hand, slowly stepping away as he led you back to the center of the room, offering to finish your dance, unable to thank you enough for all your patience, for everything you’d ever done for him. You happily obliged and danced the night away once more, looking forward to repeating your new routine tomorrow and the day after that until the holidays finally arrived.

He couldn’t count how many times he’d danced with you, how many kisses you shared in between, yet this morning felt nothing like the last few weeks. Today, he was to dance in front of his entire house with you, to teach them what you’d taught him and though he was utterly grateful for your lessons, he couldn’t stop the shaking pressure he felt for his reputation and the reputation of his house. He wanted to make you proud today, to help his students excel and to keep the school from spreading awful rumours like it had when he was young.

Tightening his ascot, he smoothed over his robes and ran his fingers through his hair a few times, sighing as it lay as flat as the pancakes he’d never managed to master whenever he cooked for himself. He held his head up high as he left his chambers and walked down the hall to his classroom, met with the majority of his house already waiting outside his door. You were nowhere to be found and he could hardly wait for this day to end. He let his students shuffle inside as he prepared the room for the lesson to come, minutes passing by as more students passed through those doors, but you had yet to arrive. Time was nearing and he was beginning to worry you had decided against aiding him in this particular lesson. He looked at the clock and sighed as the seconds hand passed twelve, indicating time was up.

“Gather around,” he commanded the room as silence fell around him, all eyes gleaming at him with anticipation as he felt his heart pounding with fear. “The Yule Ball, is a celebrated event taking place on the night of Christmas Eve; a tradition carried out for centuries and as students of the hosting school, students representing the house of Salazar Slytherin, I expect nothing less than an adequate performance from each one of you when the night arrives.”

Severus spoke to each of his students, walking down the classroom, eyeing each and every one of them. He did his best to keep his mind off of you, trying to stay focused on the task at hand instead, but you’d been at the forefront of his mind for so long and as much of a skilled legilimens as he was, even he wasn’t susceptible to the effects of the love you had for him.

“Now, the core event of the evening will of course be the dance. As such, today’s lesson will concentrate on the development of your dancing skills,” Severus froze in his place, losing his train of thought as his eyes met yours. You stood there with a smile behind all the students, closing the door behind you. “A demonstration will be presented, and you are each expected to pay attention as none of you will leave this room until you’ve performed well enough to uphold the reputation of your house.”

You pressed your lips together as you watched him address his class, rather taken back by his dominant presence. You couldn’t believe this was the same shy boy you’d met all those years ago, the same one that would rather be left alone than be placed in front of a room like this but you felt oh so proud of him and everything he’d accomplished thus far. “Professor (Y/L/N), if you may join me.”

He held out his hand for you as you stepped forward, the students parting like the sea as they stared in awe. The shock on their faces shouldn’t have surprised you, since you’d had many of them come complaining to you about all the Potion’s assignments they were being dealt, but you’d known Severus for so long now, you couldn’t imagine having any other relationship with him than the one that had blossomed over the last few weeks.

Severus led you to the centre of the room, waving his wand and allowing the music to fill the room before positioning himself waiting for the right moment to begin gliding across from floor with you. His eyes never left yours, his feet moving so elegantly. It felt nothing like the dry runs you’d done with him over the weeks, like he was almost trying to impress you. You missed how close you were to one another as you danced now, eyes all on you. But most of all, you missed the twinkle in his eyes, the smile he wore on his lips as he held you so sincerely.

“Pair up and start practicing,” he ordered and immediately you watched his students obey. It wasn’t at all like what everyone had said about the Potion’s Master. It wasn’t fear that commanded them, it was the respect and admiration they had for their Head of House that pushed them to follow his instructions without question. You smiled at him as you both continued to dance, the students following your movements, many of whom continued to look over to you as an example.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you whispered to him. Slowly throwing your arm over his shoulder to get as close to him as he’d allow in front of the students. “I was looking for this.”

You showed him your wrist and watched him let his guard down if not for a split second. His eyes analyzed the old green ribbon you had tied around your wrist, almost as well preserved as the quill he kept on his desk. He watched it disappear as you placed your hand back over his shoulder, memories of the first time you’d wrapped it around his wrist for good luck when Slytherin was playing Gryffindor in his first year during the Quidditch finals swarming his mind. That was of course, the one and only time he saw his team win the Quidditch cup during his days as a student, his first and only time to have worn that ribbon, giving it back to you in complete dismissal after the game. He’d abandoned you that night, choosing to party with his housemates who he hoped to fit in with over the simple celebration you’d invited him to. You looked so hurt the next day and it took a long while before you spoke to him again. But despite the horrible memories, the guilt he felt now, you’d still kept that ribbon and it warmed his heart.

“I thought since you were so nervous about today, I’d wear it for luck,” you told him, hiding the fact you’d tossed the ribbon in the bottom of your trunk after he so rudely dismissed you, never to see the light of day until now. You’d debated tossing it out throughout the years, but you could never do it. It served as a reminder for what you’d almost lost, for the love you still carried and the potential your relationship with Severus had.

“(Y/N), I-I’ve been meaning to ask you,” He whispered in such a low voice, you could hardly hear what he was saying, his words spoken for your ears and yours alone. “Would you accompany me to the Ball?”

“Of course, I will.” You happily accepted his proposal as you continued to sway in his arms, your conversation coming to an end as a new song began. Severus stepped away from you, his hair covering his smile as he composed himself to address the class, instructing his students to continue practicing. You both spent the remainder of the evening helping the students, waiting to be alone once more as rumours spread throughout the school of Professor Snape’s dancing and his surprising partner. Many had looked forward to the sight, wondering how he may fare on the dance floor, though no one expected to see the grace in his movements and the chemistry between you.

He’d spent all those nights with you in the hope’s rumours wouldn’t spread through these walls, but he supposed there was no avoiding it and if talk had to have spread, he was at the very least glad it didn’t tarnish his reputation. You and he would of course never hear the end of it from your colleagues; the first of the Hogwarts professors to have a chance at maintaining a relationship whilst holding a job at the school, many of whom still remembered teaching you as students. None of it mattered to him though. They could all talk as much as they liked, he would forever keep you close to his heart, safe from the rest of the world and cherish every moment he had with you so long as you allowed him in your life. He was utterly grateful for the second chance he was given, the one good thing to appear in his life amongst the sea of never ending darkness and he couldn’t have imagined any better way to combat it than to do it with you.

A/N: Can you tell I’m not a dancer? 😅

So this didn’t turn out exactly as I’d hoped. It doesn’t feel as organic as I wanted it to be, but then again, I can’t really expect it to feel organic since the dance lesson wasn’t in the books. Still, it was fun to write and I found myself restraining myself from going on forever with this story. I hope you found it refreshing and entertaining nonetheless. And who knows, maybe I’ll do a part 2 one day with the actual Yule Ball 😁

As mentioned previously on my schedule update post, I’m discontinuing my tag list so this will be the last time I tag anyone on any one-shots. Thank you all for sticking with me, your support truly means the world to me and I hope you’ll continue to read what I have planned for the future 💜

@sleepysnapesnake @wanderingtrails @darkthought15 @bush-viper-cutie @fluffymadamina @dracos-mudblood @mitchiesdungeon @severuslovebot @ravenhopeflyte54 @cuddlebunny0330 @flowerdementia

#Severus Snape #Severus x reader #Severus Snape x reader #one shot #Snape x reader #my fanfic #my writing #pro snape #snapedom

284 notes · View notes

mqgriett · 4 years

Text

Tech- Princess

Request: hello darling, i saw you were taking requests (it’s okay if you aren’t anymore, just disregard the rest of this) and I was wondering if you’d be able to write something for Tech? I’m absolutely starving for content surrounding him and I’d take literally any crumb you’d be willing to spare🥺 prompt/genre is totally up to you! @bandaid-bunny

Pairings: Tech x Fem!Reader

Warnings: small mention of death (very very minor, like a sentence)

Summary: you left the Jedi Order a year ago, which meant also leaving the Bad Batch. Tech’s feelings for you never faded, and neither did yours for him.

Notes: I really want to write a part 2 to this!! Please lmk if y’all would want a second part!!

Tech adjusted his tie for the fifth time, looking at himself in the reflection of the silver elevator. He licked his hand, smoothing back any stray hairs on top of his head.

“Nervous much?” Hunter muttered next to his brother.

Tech shook his head, “of course not. Why would I be?”

“Because this is the first time you’re seeing her in a whole year.” Crosshair replied, a smug smile on his face as he crossed his hands over his lap.

“And why would that make me nervous?” Tech scoffed, rolling his eyes and straightening the cuffs of his suit. The collar of his dress shirt felt increasingly tight and he pulled on, further giving his brother more of a reason to tease him.

“Last time you saw her you couldn’t talk right!” Wrecker slapped him on the back, making Tech choke on his own spit.

“That-”, cough, “is-”, another cough, “not true.” He finally caught his breath and repeated his sentence a little clearer. “That isn’t true.”

“Really?” Crosshair raised an eyebrow and turned to Hunter, who was giving Tech the same look.

Sarg intertwined his fingers, bringing his fist to the side of his face and making his voice a few octaves higher to mock Tech, “You look especially beautiful in the night time, it hides all of your imperfections. No- it highlights your imperfections. No- you have no imperfections in the night time. No- you’re perfect”

Tech crossed his arms, his cheeks glowing a shade of bright red as Hunter reenacted the scene from a year ago.

“We’re here for a surveillance operation, that’s all.” he swallowed the ball in his throat, “I might not even get the opportunity to speak with her, so I have no reason to be nervous.”

The quiet ding of the elevator reaching the top floor was his saving grace. Tech was the first one off and he automatically began to scan the crowded room for any sign of you. As Wrecker walked behind his brother he whispered, “surveillance operation.” He nodded and followed the rest of the Bad Batch, eyes still searching for any sign of you.

“Sarg, good to see you.” said Cody’s strong tone of voice, catching Tech’s attention again.

“Same to you, Commander.” Hunter replied, giving the 212th trooper a strong handshake. Cody pointed out that the Bad Batch and 212th were allowed to have fun that night, and that they were only to interfere with anything if it was a threat to the princess’s life. He pointed to the other troopers that had accompanied him that night. The majority of the 212th attack battalion dotted the ball room.

There was no sign of you after roughly twenty minutes, allowing Tech to ease up a little bit. Crosshair returned from the bar, standing next to his brother and handing him a medium sized glass with a small amount of black liquid. Although he wasn’t much of a drinker, Tech downed the shot within seconds of having it in his grasp.

***

“Nervous much?” Padme asked, watching from the corner of your room as you adjusted the front of your corset for the fifth time.

You ignored her snarky comment, continuing to speak your thoughts out loud, “Out of all the squadrons he could have asked, of course he chooses 99.”

“You’re going to smudge your makeup if you keep pacing and sweating like that.” she replied, walking to your side. “And, who knows? Maybe he’s not here.”

“Hunt- The Sergeant, doesn’t go anywhere without him. He’s here.” you answered, taking a loud breath in to calm yourself. “It’s been at least a year. Last time I saw him I was allowed to go on missions and hold a weapon that’s bigger than my palm.”

You reached behind yourself and started to undo the corset, “Now I need to go and sit in meetings, sit like a lady, smile and nod, and be pretty. That’s all… Could you re-tie this for me? The seamstress made it so I couldn’t breathe.” You motioned to the strings of the corset.

“How about you wear that blue dress, you liked that one.” Padme suggested, trying her best to get you into a better mood.

You sighed, “alright.”

As you walked back to your closet, Padme spoke behind you, “if you look on the bright side, attachments are no longer forbidden for you.”

It genuinely made both of you laugh, lifting your spirits a little as you unhooked the blue dress from its hanger. “maybe embrace that he’s here. You no longer need to follow the code, make the best of it.”

She was right, the Jedi code no longer applied to you.

About a year ago, when your sister had passed, it left you to take the throne of Alderaan as Princess. Your father, Bail Organa, was a senator and your mother, Breha Organa, was Queen. Someone needed to help her govern the planet, which led to you leaving the Jedi order and fulfill your duties as the only living legacy of your parents.

It was a difficult decision to make, and tonight would lock it in. The majority of Senators were here, including a few other monarchs. Last time you had seen the bulk of them you were still a Jedi Knight, now you were Princess of Alderaan.

This party was risky to throw, but it had already been postponed many times before. There was a small window to celebrate the new princess, which is no-doubt why the Bad Batch was called in. Majority of the troopers were on missions, and if the party was to be short on guards then it needed the strongest battalion available, Clone Force 99.

It was already twenty minutes into the celebration, and you had five minutes prepare to see them again. Last time you five were together it was a special operations mission, you were a Jedi and they were your designated clone battalion. Now you were tasked with pretending to be someone else, a princess.

You tugged your dress on and allowed Padme to lace the back up, it was time.

***

A loud sound of trumpets echoed through the room, quickly drawing everyone’s attention. The lights dimmed everywhere except the grand balcony with a staircase leading down to the main floor.

Tech followed the voice of the announcer, who seemed to be invisible among the huge crowd. “It is with great pleasure that I welcome the Queen and the new Princess of Alderaan.” he said obstreperously.

Queen Breha walked with grace down the steps, waving as she descended.

Next came the princess, her gold-accented, sleek, pastel blue dress shining in the light beautiful. Tech’s heart raced as he saw you, his glass slipping from his grip. He had nearly forgotten how beautiful you were, and the way you quickly walked down each stair nearly made him faint. The expensive glassware would have broken if it weren’t for Hunter’s quick reflexes.

The only other time he had witnessed the sight of you in a dress was during an undercover op, other than that you were frequently in your robes. Maker, you were breathtaking in that gown. He was going mad and you were still across the room.

You turned over your shoulder, automatically scanning the crowd for any signs of the Bad Batch. It seemed that every free moment you had was interrupted by a Senator or distant relative congratulating you on your new status. So, you smiled and made small talk, a tiny headache beginning to creep up on you.

As you thanked Senator Clovis for coming, a strong hand touched the small of your back. “Need a break?” Hunter asked behind you.

In that moment you could have cried at the sound of his voice. You were so overwhelmed and tired, wanting to collapse every time you needed to start a new conversation with someone. As you turned, you straightened your back, “Sergeant.” You gave him a curt nod, “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Hunter raised his eyebrow, waiting a moment before hooking his arm within your own. “Since when do you call me Sergeant?” he mused, beginning to lead you over to the edge of the ballroom.

You were well out of earshot of anyone important now, and your whole demeanor changed. You let out a breath of air and slouched, letting your legs rest a shoulder-width apart. “You have no clue how happy I am to see you.”

“Right back at you Command- Princess.” he said, letting go of your arm.

“Don’t call me that, for maker’s sake.” you pleaded, your tone genuinely sad.

He smirked, “not your thing, huh?”

You shook your head, “where’s the rest of the boys?”

“Wrecker spilled that Corellian wine on his shirt, Tech and Cross are helping him get cleaned off.” he responded with a shrug, as if it was a regular thing; on that thought, it was.

Your heart fluttered, “Tech’s here?”

Hunter chuckled deeply, combing his hair back, “he is. Why?”

You pursed your lips while narrowing your eyes, “just curious.”

Before Sarg could tease you any further, the large gold door to the men’s bathroom opened and the other three Bad Batchers stumbled back inside the room. You instinctively looked over your shoulder, your gaze catching Tech’s.

You both froze, trapped in each other's presence. He smiled, eyes sparkling in the faint light of the ballroom.

The group of three made their way to Hunter and you, Wrecker with a huge grin on his face.

Crosshair performed a dramatic bow, “m’lady.” he slid his hands into his pockets, a smug smirk on his face as he greeted you.

“I hate you,” You teased, shaking your head the smallest bit to show you disapproval.

“Hi Princess.” Wrecker didn’t hesitate to pull you into a tight hug, but he soon let go once realizing that he was possibly transferring the wine stain onto your dress.

Tech wrapped his arms around your waist and whispered, “you look nice.”

You rested your chin on his shoulder, “back at you.”

Crosshair interjected, “you got something on your dress.” he twirled his long finger towards your abdomen.

Wrecker had accidentally transferred some wine on your gown. You frowned, knowing that you now had to change dresses. “Kriff,” you mumbled, secretly slightly relieved that you got to leave for a few minutes, “I’ll be back. If anyone asks, just say I’m touching up my makeup.”

As you took a step forward, Padme’s words seemed to echo in your mind. Maybe embrace that he’s here. You no longer need to follow the code, make the best of it.

You smiled, “Tech would you mind coming along? I’m not supposed to leave the room without another person.”

He looked slightly surprised at your offer, but after tripping over a few words he nodded and followed.

Tech took a deep breath once you two were alone, clenching and relaxing his fists to ease a bit of his nerves, “I missed you, we all did. Missions aren’t as fun without you.”

You grinned, “I missed you too. Everything goes by slower nowadays.”

“You don’t enjoy your new life?” He asked, eyebrows creasing to form a concerned expression. He looked around at all the gold accented treasures hidden among the castle.

“There’s no excitement. Every day is just a repeat of the last.” The elevator doors opened and you both stepped inside.

They slid shut, officially making it just the two of you. “Do you miss the Order?”

You shook your head, “Not as much as I thought I would, but I miss the adventures. I miss you.” you said the last piece quietly, hoping he didn’t hear.

But since it was Tech, and he was the most attentive person you knew, he heard. He turned to look at you, making deep eye contact, “I miss you too. Co-piloting with Crosshair isn’t as fun as it was with you. I’m not as good at calming Wrecker down as you were.”

You arrived at your floor, the doors opening again and both of you walking out. There was an awkward silence surrounding the two of you now, both wanting to say the same thing.

As you stepped foot in your room, the energy shifted a little. You motioned for Tech to make himself comfortable and made your way to the closet.

He sat at the foot of your huge bed, admiring how well-decorated it was. He turned to look at the wall his back faced, eyes wandering to your nightstand. In the middle stood a framed photograph. It was a picture that Wrecker had taken after a rough mission. You and Tech were both asleep, your head on his lap and his hand draped over your waist. He sighed and called out to you, “You know I’ve always loved you, right?”

You froze, barely finishing at pulling the peach-colored dress over your head when his voice reached your ears. By the time you had turned around, Tech was standing in the doorway of your closet.

No more Jedi Code.

You walked to him, placing a gentle hand against his cheek and kissing him. He grabbed your hand and held it, leaning forward to deepen the kiss. He had waited too long for this to end quickly, and you felt the same.

#tech x reader #badbatchxreader #clone trooper tech #clone trooper crosshair #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper wrecker #bad batch #clone force 99

222 notes · View notes

deltas-writing-corner · 3 years

Text

Courtship (4): The Gargoyle Graveyard

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Again, thank you all for being patient with me and I apologize for having a very inconsistent writing schedule. I'm going to make it my goal to update on a bi weekly basis instead of leaving you all in silent limbo. Also a reminder I suck at figuring out which warnings to put so if there's something that needs to be forewarned that I failed to disclose please lmk!

Warnings: Mentions of heavy bodily injuries | childhood trauma/neglect | discussions/mentions of discrimination | mentions of virginity/sexual history

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

AO3 version

Clay. Stone. Porcelain. Plaster. Metal. There are even gargoyles carved entirely of wood! Some statues are stand-alone works of art while others are part of a clear collection or series of similar inspiration. They even come in all sorts of shapes and sizes; as small as an apple or a towering height to rival Malleus himself. No matter what, each grotesque has been crafted with the utmost consideration, by well seasoned and knowing hands. Even the ones that have clear defects and cannot serve their intended purpose are free of overabundant ivy, weeds, or dust. There’s a clear degree of love and care the family who makes these statues has for their craft that makes him feel less alone in his interest in an uncherished form of art.

“It should be around here somewhere,” you muse aloud. Ever since he expressed interest in seeing more sculptures made with non-traditional materials, you’ve been keeping your eye out for a particular one that would fulfill his yearning. You eventually find it and eagerly point to it. “There it is!”

Malleus watches as you approach a massive-sized statue covered with a thick and half-wet tarp. He helps you remove the cover, revealing a winged and slightly humanoid canine. There are many more grotesques with a similar design, but what makes this one stand out the most is the material it’s made out of.

“Amazing!” Malleus awes. “I’ve never seen a grotesque of this size made entirely of glass! They’ve even managed to maintain their attention to detail despite such an abnormal material choice.”

“You can even see the inner channel where the water would flow in and redirect out of its mouth,” you notice.

“They even went out of their way to make it functional despite it being unfit for actual installation?” Malleus inquires with disbelief. “Such a shame.”

“If you’re looking to buy anything here, I’m afraid it's a lost cause. One of the first warnings the grandfather gave me is that none of these are for sale.”

“What was his second warning?”

“If we damage anything, even as small as a scratch, he’ll kill us.”

“How charming,” he chuckles. “I cannot blame him. These statues must take weeks to complete. Time is a human’s greatest enemy.”

“For some, sure. But when I went to visit the family and talked to the old man, he was lunging around all this heavy equipment like he was still in his prime,” you recall. “He lives for his craft. If there’s anything humans are at risk of their entire lives, it’s a lack of motivation and reason to live.”

“I suppose that’s true, but the lifespan of humans and the inevitable effects of aging is difficult to live with, especially once it begins to hinder one’s ability to do what one could previously do without issue. ”

“You’re not wrong,” you acknowledge. “But I think I’d rather live a short life with fulfillment than a dull, long-as-shit life.”

To show that he’s entirely on your side, Gunter lets out a guttural bark while his tail rapidly wags and thumps the damp ground, coating the ends of his bushy tail in specs of dirt and dirtied, remnant snow of the north that has managed to stay frozen on the isles warmer south end.

“You’re only agreeing with them because you’ve been promised food,” Malleus chastises. “Don’t think I didn’t pick up on your grumbling stomach.”

“And don't think I didn't pick up on your stomach rumbling either your highness," you quip back at him. "The family has a small cottage nearby we can use. We'll settle down for a bit and eat before sightseeing some more."

Before you turn and walk in the direction towards the aforementioned lodgings, you reach your hand out for Malleus to take and he latches onto you with restrained enthusiasm. He's taller than you, but he takes care not to take his normal strides as to not leave you struggling to keep up with him. Gunter doesn't know the way, so he trots beside you every step of the way up until the destination is in plain view. The cottage is small but well-attended. There’s a rustic flair to its construction that makes it feel familiar and safe despite never stepping foot in it before.

"Those gargoyles were something, huh?" you remark to him while you tap and shake off the gunk wedged into the soles of your heavy boots against the frame of the door.

"Indeed," he nods, taking your cloak off for you and hanging it on the wooden rack nearby. "I don't think I've ever seen that many gargoyles in one day. Just when my eyes land upon an intriguing one, there's several more that catch my attention."

The way he gets all wide-eyed is outright adorable. It makes you grin just as enthusiastically too. "I bet your club is going to have a field day once you tell them about this!"

His child-like smile turns into one of disappointment. "I'm certain they would, if I wasn't the sole member that is."

Your hands halt from pulling out and setting down all the premade food out of your pack. "Seriously? You're the only one?"

When he nods his head, you feel a twinge of hurt in your heart. Poor guy. You can only imagine how disappointing it must be to go through all those lengths to start a club (you would know since you're technically a staff member of the school and have been given a rundown on some of the school's functions and regulations) only for no one to show interest. Of course, you completely understand that gargoyles aren't exactly all the rage within the minds of teenage boys. Still! He goes through so much effort to build relationships with his peers but they always cower away, either due to his status or even because of the way he looks. You won’t deny that he does come off as rather intimidating at first glance, but he's a sweet guy once you give him the chance to speak.

But to expect teenagers going through social pressures and demanding academics to be as understanding and willing to understand someone like Malleus is an impossible demand. Given that everyone in the school can be a bunch of self-centered and easily agitated bunch of pricks, it's understandable that most of the student body isn't keen on trying to take into consideration the proper etiquette one needs to consider in the presence of a young and noble fae. Deuce has met and talked briefly with Malleus on one occasion, but even he visibly shakes whenever his name is mentioned, even in casual passing.

Wait until they found out who you've gone and gotten buddy-buddy with behind their back. They probably think they're slick or that their intentions are well swept under the rug, but it's clear they feel some semblance of responsibility for your well-being, as both a magicless individual as well as a close, albeit older, friend. You dread the day people begin to make the connections between Malleus and you, but you still can’t help but wonder what their reactions might be. You also dread the high probability those two idiots are going to find out and embarrass the living hell out of you, which you know you do not have the patience or tolerance for.

Gunter jumps up and sits himself down in one of the wooden dining chairs, pushing the small ceramic plate towards you with his nose, as if telling you "Alright, I’ve done what I said I'd do, now feed me what I'm owed." You tell him that you'll give him what he's well earned after you get a small fire started in the brick fireplace. Just because it's warmer near the southern half of the island and not as heavily blanketed with snow, doesn't mean the cold has completely vanished, Winter is still winter after all.

"Where did these scars come from?"

Malleus' unexpected question and closeness nearly make you drop the iron rod you've been using to stoke the growing fire. You've since taken off your boots and rolled up the bottoms of your pants just above your knee as the room starts to warm up enough for a thin layer of perspiration to accumulate and roll down your skin. The scars he's referring to are the ones on your right leg, both side by side at an awkward angle and discolored. You have a lot more scars than these, some much more gruesome in appearance than these two. Malleus has never asked about your scars, but sometimes you catch him looking in the general area of some that peak through your clothes. He likely keeps quiet about their existence out of courtesy.

Yet out of all the markings on your body, why did these two stand out enough that he'd finally ask about them?

"It's a long story," you say in an effort to stall the topic. "Sit. I'll feed you two once the fire is stable."

He doesn’t push you for an answer, instead simply doing as you say and lets you poke at the burning logs until they're properly aflame on their own. You made mostly some of your morning favorites; Creamy and thick potato stew with diced carrots and peas and some eggs, ham, and crispy hash browns sandwich between homemade halved croissants. You teased him about having picky taste buds earlier, but Malleus is content to eat anything you serve him so long as it is not comparable to the likes of Lilia's atrocious cooking.

(Seriously, how does a man as old as Lilia not know the basic fundamentals of cooking? And why does everything he makes end up burnt and tasting like something rotten? You will never understand.)

"Don't eat too quickly," you warn Gunter as you pour a bit of light-colored soup onto his designated plate. Your words are ignored, as the equally marred wolf sloppily slurps and munches on the few bits of potatoes and vegetables you generously scraped out of the thermos. His food is gone as quickly as it’s put in front of him and he looks at you expecting more.

"No. The rest is mine," you scold. "And don't beg Malleus for some either! I know you do it behind my back, you little shit!"

He turns to look at Malleus with an accusatory glare, thinking that he ratted him out to you. Malleus’s response towards the silent imputation is to turn and look out the window as if something caught his interest all of a sudden, cup raised to his lips as he politely sips away at his meal without an air of calmness. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the amusement that overtakes your senses.

"Malleus, stop that!"

"Stop what?" he innocently asks.

"Stop making me want to laugh!"

He sets his cup down onto its matching serving dish. "It's not my fault you have an easily satiable sense of humor."

"Wow!" you say incredulously and put your arms up in offense. "And here I was thinking we were friends!"

His distant demeanor breaks and you both devolve into a fit of laughter together. Gunter unfortunately takes advantage of your joint distraction and slips away with a warm sandwich between his jaw, your sandwich in particular.

"That damn wolf!" you curse. "I knew I should have trusted my gut and pack extras.”

Malleus pities your distress before moving over to sit closer. "Worry not. I'll split mine in half with you,” he reassures.

"No, it's fine," you immediately dismiss his offer. "Have it for yourself."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he firmly states. “Don’t be stubborn. It’s far too early for that.”

"I thought you liked it when I was stubborn?” you pout.

He shakes his head with a smile. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t”

"At least someone likes my attitude,” you say after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of soup. “Sebek certainly doesn’t."

"The boy is stubborn as well. When two equally stubborn individuals cross paths, you will witness nothing but discord between the two."

"Add the fact I'm human into the mix, and we'll be exchanging fists instead of words sooner or later," you scoff. "I get that some faes don't like humans, but what's his deal with acting like he’s got a vendetta against me?"

"Sebek doesn't hate humans for the reasons you might think," Malleus admits. "It’s more like he finds them difficult to think that highly of. Did you know that he is half-human?"

You nearly choke on your own breath over the sudden revelation. "Really?"

"Indeed," Malleus finds amusement at your disbelief. "Have you ever wondered why his ears aren't pointed like Silver, but his eyes are like mine and Lilia’s?"

"Damn,” you scratch the back of your head with embarrassment. “Now I feel stupid.”

"You aren't. Given the way he speaks, not many would assume he had human blood in his veins. His mother was highly regarded within her social circle, but her marriage to a human man tarnished her reputation a great deal. She's happy and does not seem to care what others think of her these days. However, when Sebek set out to be a knight, his mother's marriage and his lineage were often brought up as a way to scrutinize his character and capabilities rather than any of his actual shortcomings as an individual."

"Poor kid," you sigh. "Lilia told me those sorts of things still happen in The Valley, but it sounds so outlandish that I couldn’t take it that seriously."

"Many faes hold old traditions above all else, to a degree that the purity of one's blood stands above all other merits." His eyebrows pressed together in annoyance. "Even my grandmother thinks it's archaic, but as the reigning queen she has to embody a persona of neutrality between the social divide."

"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you in the future," you say, almost apologetically. "What do you plan to do about it once you're the king?"

There's a brief flash of surprise over your question, but Malleus easily answers it as usual. "I think my first course of action as king would be to properly knight Sebek and Silver."

"Bet my rifle that Sebek is going to cry the entire ceremony!" you remark with certainty. "That's all he ever goes on about, being a knight and all."

"He's devoted countless hours and efforts since he was a child. If there's anyone who deserves to join the knighthood, it's him."

"Definitely," you nod to further cement your agreement with him. "He could stand to lower his voice a bit. He'll give you tinnitus before long.”

"At least we won't have to worry about losing him in a crowd," Malleus jests.

"That's to say we'll lose sight of him to begin with," you remark. "He'll gladly lose me in a crowd. You? You'd be lucky to get out of arm's length."

"You underestimate me, dearest," Malleus smirks. "Ever since I've met you, I've perfected the art of avoiding Sebek's insistent searches."

"Have you now?" you razz back. "Don't let him catch onto the fact. He'll have my head."

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Each second his skin touches yours makes you tingle. Time slows down ever so briefly if only to savor the small instance of physical connection for as long as possible. "What of your aunts?" he inquires. "Are they as overprotective of you as Sebek is of myself?"

"They’re a trio of mama bears," you proudly admit. "I'm old enough to drink and well equipped to fend for myself, but in their minds, I'll always be the little tyke that couldn't even eat their meals without looking at them for approval. Especially my aunt Gia."

You have three aunts. There's your aunt Marisol, the mother of most of your cousins and the main caretaker of the household. Your second aunt Lucia was well into her studies at university when you came to live with them, but her stress and long hours of mulling over her course materials paid off in the long run. Your gardening skills wouldn't be what they are now without her expertise in agricultural botany.

Then there's your aunt Gia. Oldest of the three. An absolute tank of a woman. No spouse. No kids of her own. She lived off the land like an absolute titan. The woman raised you as if she was the one that carried you for nine months and not your actual birth mother.

How would you describe your parents? If your parents were told to list out their priorities in life, their careers would be at the top of the list and you would be put at the very bottom. Why they carried you to term is beyond your understanding. You later learned that Gia had even offered to take you under her care well before your birth, knowing that your parents might not be well-suited to take care of you in the way she thinks would be beneficial for you. It was a convenient offer that would have saved everyone the trouble years down the line when you had your accident. They worked in a cutthroat industry and were constantly moving up the executive echelons. They had no time for you, yet their pride as a pair of young, successful business magnates made them incapable of seeing past the reality of the situation. That left you mostly in the care of last-minute caretakers and your aunts, but only if they had time from their own busy and preoccupied lives to come out into the city and visit.

You were eight years old when things started to get better, but it was upstarted in the worst possible way. Your parents had to go away for the upcoming weekend for work and left you in the care of a babysitter as per the norm. The babysitter never showed up however and your parents apparently couldn’t be bothered to check up on you even once the entire trip. Their silence wasn’t surprising. You just went on about your business for the next three days on your own like nothing was wrong. Your aunt Gia had even called at one point to check up on you, but you didn’t bother to tell her that your parents had left you to fend for yourself. She would have exploded if you did, but not as much as she did when you woke up in the hospital after falling down the stairs and lying helplessly on the ground for several hours with a dislocated shoulder and a compound-fractured leg. You were lulling in and out of consciousness due to all the medication pumped into you, but what little you do remember seeing and hearing when you regained consciousness will forever stick with you for the rest of your life.

If people think your level of swearing is bad, they should have heard your aunt that day. She swore so viciously that it could set an innocent bystander's eardrums on fire. What will forever stand out the most to you was the fact that your parents didn’t even look the least bit apologetic or regretful. They didn’t even approach you once your aunt was done giving them a piece of her mind to check up on you. They simply talked with the awaiting social worker and doctors and then left. It was for the better, but the small part of you that continued to hold onto the desperate belief that your parents would come around one day sent you into a thrashing frenzy and you had to be sedated before you could hurt yourself anymore.

The next year was spent recovering from your injuries, meeting regularly with your caseworker, and going through therapists like a pack of cigarettes. By the time you were back on your feet and the legal proceedings of your custody case were concluded, all you wanted was to move on with it all. Nearly a decade of neglect left you this unattentive, uncertain husk of a person who couldn’t take a single step forward without looking for some sort of guidance or assurance. Your family was exhausted by the entire ordeal and over speaking with third parties. Your aunts took it upon themselves to help you regain your sense of self in the comfort of your new home, no matter how difficult or demanding it was going to be.

“It took some time, but eventually it clicked in my mind that I was in a better place and I started to get better. As for my parents, I have no clue what they’re up to these days.” You lean back into your chair and let out a shaking yawn. “I like to think they’re getting on well like I am.”

“I don’t understand.” Malleus looks at you with unbelievable confusion. “Your parents treated you poorly, yet you don’t sound the least bit resentful. Why is that?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What’s the point? I'm in a better place now, so I've let bygones be bygones. 'Doesn't mean I don't harbor any anger against them anymore. I do, but getting upset won't change what's happened to me."

Gunter, having sensed your discomfort over the matter, trots over and rests his head on your lap. You gratefully rub the top of his head, carding your hands through his thick, coarse hair. "I'm just glad they let me go without a fuss. Family court was hell for my family.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Expensive too.”

Crackling wood fills the momentary silence that befalls the small cottage. What you've recollected to Malleus is a lot to take in, and if you're being quite honest you'd prefer if he just dropped the subject and talked about literally anything else right now. You hope he doesn't say he's sorry or any other type of apologetic comment. That's all you were ever told that entire year it all happened, during court proceedings, your rehabilitation, by both strangers and distant family members alike.

"I'm so sorry. What happened to you was unfortunate. You didn't deserve it."

No shit you didn't deserve any of that. You were a kid. You don’t need one pity party after another to realize that what took place then had fucked you forever. But as you said earlier, you're in a better place now, with a loving and supportive family that's moved on alongside you. A family you need to get back to as soon as possible.

"I love you."

Well, if he was hoping to take your mind off the past. that certainly did it. How can it not? It came out of nowhere and as good as you are at holding your composure when need be, you're sure you look no less like a gaping fish when warm and plush softness presses right against the corner of your lips. A kiss. His kiss.

"What's wrong?" Your voice sounds shaky. You’re nervous.

"Nothing," he smiles reassuringly. "I simply said what I felt needed to be said."

"Fair enough" you concede easily. He was going to say it sooner or later. He already has actually, now that you think about it. Yet here you are trying to process his words like it’s rocket science.

"Am I going about this too fast perhaps?" he genuinely asks. His hands that have been busy massaging your calves that have settled across his lap somewhere during your long retelling gradually slow down, but his hands never go completely still. "This is my first time experiencing something like this."

"What?" You sit up a bit straighter. "A relationship?"

"Yes."

Your head tilts to the side. "Really?"

He nods hesitantly "Yes?"

For a moment, you go completely quiet. "I don't believe you,” you doubtfully say, head shaking to further showcase your refusal to believe him.

He must not have liked your remark, frowning with clear offense in his eyes. When he dislikes something, the vertical slits in his eyes contract into a thin line. "I cannot lie, yet you still doubt me?"

"I know you can't lie, but I find it hard to believe you haven't been with anyone else before," you explain. Before you can consider the appropriateness that was your newfound curiosity about Malleus's apparently non-existent love life, you blurt out, "Are you still a virgin?"

You slap your hand over your mouth the moment those words come out of it. He's equally caught off guard and nearly drops his warm cup of coffee. Even Gunter is surprised by your question, olive-colored eyes looking at you as if you've lost your mind. It's an invasive question, inappropriate even. You and Malleus have been dating for a little over two days. A question like that is way too early to bring up just yet.

"You don't have to answer that," you tell him behind your palm. "I shouldn't have even asked it. Forget I ever brought it up-”

"I'm not," he interrupts you, leaving you even more shocked than you already are. You’re practically gaping like a fish by now. "I'm not a virgin,” he further insinuates.

A deafening silence, but it’s eventually broken by yourself. “I still don’t believe you.”

Malleus gets further annoyed at your refusal to accept his truth. "I'm not lying!" he insists.

"Bullshit!"

"Do you want me to recount my history to you?" he asks, exasperated as you are at the shift the conversation is taking. "Will that satisfy your doubts?"

"You know what? It will!" you loudly declare. "Who'd you sleep with?"

"He was a young page at the time,” he reminisced. “It happened before I was a century old.”

Your eyebrows raise with intrigue. "Was he cute?"

"Yes," he hushedly agrees. The disconcerting admittance paints his face a pinkish-red glow. "But that's not why I bedded him."

"But surely his looks are what made you interested in the first place?” you make blatant regard of the fact.

“You’re not wrong,” he acknowledges, expertly avoiding agreeing with you outright. “But his looks aren't the sole reason I was drawn to him. He was bright-eyed and ambitious, to the point you’d think him insane given his position in the court. It was also the first time I ever truly met with a group of humans, and my young mind was eager to get a more accurate perspective of humans that wasn’t through the lens of my tutors.”

“An ‘accurate perspective’?” You make playful air quotes, eyebrows wiggling because you know the fact that he knows what you’re implying. The playful comment is met with a sharp pinch on your leg that makes you jump and shriek out in pain. Did he have to dig his nails into you? Apparently so, and now you have small crescent indents on your skin. “I bet Lilia had a good laugh when he found out.”

“He doesn’t know, actually,” he admits to you with what is obviously a proud smile.

“Now I know you’re lying to me,” you scoff. “Nothing escapes the old man’s radar.”

His hands begin to rub out the marks he’s left on you as a form of apology. “Lilia is sharp, but he had lost most of his vigor by the time I was born.”

You go wide-eyed again. “You mean his hearing and eyesight was better than it is now?”

He nods affirmatively. “From what I’ve been told, terrifyingly so.”

Lilia is already frightening as is. His short stature and boyish looks make him perfectly unassuming to those who don’t know any better. You once watched him beat up a couple of bulky, twice-his-height students from Savanaclaw without breaking a sweat, yet moments before he was jokingly scolding himself for dozing off so easily. You never once thought he was ever out of his elements. A cold chill runs down your spine thinking how much more perceptive the older fae may have been back during his prime years.

“Wonder what Lilia’s gonna think,” you ponder out loud in a quick effort to banish out the skin-prickling mental imagery your mind was invoking. “About us, I mean.”

Malleus seems surprised that you would change the topic to that of all things, but his initial shock goes away as quickly as it came. “As you may have guessed, he’s an open-minded individual, but he’s also very realistic and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.”

“So what does that mean for you and me?” you question with a bit of hesitation.

“Well,” he trails off and ponders for a moment. “He’ll surely like the scandal our relationship would invoke. However, as my caretaker and mentor, he won’t hesitate to put an end to it if he feels it necessary.”

Had it been anyone else sitting beside you, you’d have found that comment way too extreme and outright ridiculous. However, you are not speaking to anyone ordinary. You are not sitting before someone normal. It doesn't matter how well you get along with him. It sure as hell doesn't matter how deeply in love you are with him, and him of you. The moment you have been deemed a shortcoming, the outings, the closeness, it all stops. All of it will come crashing down and both you and him will be left wondering what could have been done differently.

Malleus is truly your best friend, because already he can tell that your mind is beginning to spiral even when you go quiet. He calls for your attention by gripping his hand around your bare ankle and carefully tugging the end of your limb. “Don’t fret over it too much,” he soothes, yet also sounding like he’s scolding you for letting your mind wander off so negatively. “Lilia is an exceptional judge of character. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve well exceeded all his marks. He trusts you, and to gain such a thing from someone as old and wise as him is an extraordinary feat.”

You brew over the attempted compliment he tried to pay to you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t snub out all these festering thoughts in your head. It doesn’t even give you temporary relief. Perhaps it would have brought you a sense of peace a few months ago, but with everything that has happened thus far, you doubt even Malleus can alleviate the storm that rattles inside you, even if what he speaks is without a doubt nothing but the truth.

Surely he can see that you are still having some hangups. When you lift his hand and plant a chaste kiss on the back of his hand, you hope he can decipher the gesture as a pitiful request for his forgiveness for dampening the once energetic mood. He is not at fault for your loss and inability to think optimistically at the moment and you need to make sure he knows it.

Today is about him, not you. Even if it’s just for today, you’ll put on a pleasant facade and worry about the rest at a later date. It’s just you and him, and for now, that’s enough.

You do a mental countdown starting from three, before finally giving him a late response to the three words he uttered in confidence to you earlier. “I love you too, by the way.”

You love him. You love him. You love him. That’s all his mind can think of for the rest of the day. He replays your reciprocation over and over like it’s sacred and all-powerful.

He had planned to return to his dorm before the sun began to set, but he found the mere idea of detaching from you deeply unwanted and made the last-minute decision to spend the evening at the Ramshackle dorm. He already has a few articles of clothing and personal essentials set up in one of the many empty rooms, so neither Lilia nor you had any objections at his sudden request.

“Don’t worry!” You shout across the room so that Lilia can hear you over his phone. “I’ll make sure he gets to bed on time!”

“You have my gratitude!” Lilia’s muffled voice responds gratefully. “Don’t cause too much trouble now, you two.”

“No promises~” you sing in jest before Malleus hangs up. Once the call ends Johnny, Benji, Franky, and you turn their attention back to their ongoing game of poker. Malleus watches and occasionally laughs to himself over the friendly banter shared between the quartet. At the end of every round, the winner is assaulted with colorful profanities whilst they take their newly won gambling chips with ebullience. Yet with each new dealing of cards, the animosity goes away and they’re all back to being friendly. He finds your interactions with your incorporeal roommates more entertaining than the book he’s been reading to pass the time.

“Hey, fairy boy,” Franky informally calls out toward him. “Don’t be a stranger now. Play a few rounds with us.”

“I’m afraid I’m not well versed in card games,” he admits, yet he still finds himself setting his literature aside and moving over to join them.

“Don’t worry,” you give him a reassuring smile. “They’ll go easy on you.”

“For how long?” he knowingly asks.

You give him an impressed smirk at his quick uptake. “I give it three rounds before they start to pull back their sleeves.”

Malleus is well-adjusted to the need to quickly learn a new topic and the expectation for him to fully comprehend it in full. None of them are harsh on him for his minor mistakes like some of the tutors he’s had in the past. Answers that he believes may be obvious or not as complicated as he thinks they are being answered with enthusiastic patience. The smallest achievements he makes are met with a proud response. When he makes a surprise turnabout and wins his first game, he’s rewarded with an encouraging round of applause by everyone.

“Not bad,” Benji praises as he shuffles the deck of cards. “You’re a fast learner.”

“So I’ve been told,” he humbly replies. “Is this the part where you all stop going easy on me now?”

“Don’t provoke them,” you half-heartedly warn. “Otherwise we’ll be up all night duking it out otherwise.”

Franky sets his glass of iced liquor down on the edge of the table. “Don’t you little lovebirds worry. We won’t take up too much of your well-needed time together.”

Annoyed at the clear jab at his relationship with you, you throw one of your chips towards his head. It passes through his body and clatters on the floor behind him. Your fawn Blossom jumps down from their spot on the couch and goes to sniff it, thinking it to be food, but walks away with a disappointed strut when he realizes it isn’t anything edible.

“I didn’t tell them a damn thing,” you defensively clarify. “It was so obvious what was going on between us that they figured it all out before we made it official.”

He lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s...I can’t say I’m too pleased to hear about that.”

“We won’t say anything,” Franky reassures. “Just make sure to put a sock on the door whenever you guys want some alone time.”

“Franky!” you hiss at him. “What the hell?!”

“What?” he looks at you, unbothered by your clear embarrassment. “Do you honestly expect us to think you guys went out just to look at a bunch of statues?”

“Oh, I’m sure they were looking at something,” Johnny smirks. “It wasn’t made of stone though.”

“I hate you guys,” you growl out, arms crossing and leaning back into your seat with an angry huff. You don’t mean it. He can see the tremble of your lips as you try to contain the urge to grin. “Even if we did end up rolling around in the sheets, I wouldn’t be yapping about it for all to hear, much less you guys!”

“What happens in the gargoyle graveyard stays in the gargoyle graveyard, eh?” Franky winks at both Malleus and you, nudging you with his elbow.

“Exactly!” you affirm, batting the large ghost away from you for some much-needed distance. “Now stop being so damn nosy.”

They cackle one last time and everyone seamlessly goes back to their ongoing game. Conversations like the one that just concluded are commonplace in your dormitory. Even if he contributed next to nothing to the discussion, he enjoys watching them interact. You come from a world where ghosts are hardly as overt as the ones in this world. Ghosts are said to entertain themselves by picking on the living, to the point that it can be fatal. Your ability to come up with witticisms at a moment's notice is something he enjoys seeing in action. He feels great satisfaction not only knowing that he has secured your love but to also see you in a state of tranquility and within your elements.

As Benji and you have a hushed conversation on the sidelines, he reaches over and places his hand on your knee beneath the table. You quietly reach over and put your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb like it’s instinctual. Unfortunately, the heart-fluttering moment is ruined by the sudden buzzing of his phone. He has half a mind to ignore it, but when he gives the screen a glance he realizes ignoring the caller is not an option.

“I’ll be out for a moment,” he excuses himself once he sets his hand down and stands himself upright. “This shouldn’t take that long, hopefully.”

They all stop to look up at him inquisitively for half a second. In unison, they ask, “Sebek?”

“Sebek,” he affirms.

There are simultaneous displays of annoyance, pity, and silent wishes of good luck directed at him. He’s tempted to ask where all this contempt for the boy comes from, but then he remembers the many times Sebek barges his way into their dorm at the worst possible moments. It is either when everyone is beginning to settle down after a long day or in the middle of an important house project, the former more so than the latter now that the dorm is much more stable and in need of less restoration. Malleus learned the hard way how ill you and the ghosts will react when your peace is unwantedly interrupted and your space invaded by an unwanted guest.

Sebek is also quick to scrutinize whatever he sees out loud without a filter. You never seem to mind half of the time, merely rolling your eyes and moving past Sebek’s ill-meaning remarks as if you never heard them. As you are someone Malleus highly regards and holds close to his bosom, he hopes Sebek can one day set aside his strife with humankind and give you the due diligence you deserve.

...Though, he completely understands that reaching that point will take time. While you can endure Sebek to a certain degree, there are times where he, unfortunately, pushes you past that threshold and, without flinching, you will tell him to “Shut the fuck up”. Your words, not his.

“Young master!” Sebek's transmitted voice peaks and he has to half pull it away to give his pained eardrums some relief. “I was informed by Lord Lilia that you will be spending the night over at the Human’s dorm. Have you all your accommodations at their estate? If not, I will swiftly-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he half laughs at his enthusiasm over such a small task. “I have enough to keep me comfortable and well for a few days. Your offer is still very much appreciated.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he stutters. “If there’s anything you should ever find a need for, please inform me at once! I will fulfill your every wishes no matter the hour!”

He’s enthusiastic and ready to act at a moment’s notice, even during the middle of a cold and dark hour. Malleus doesn’t necessarily dislike this part of Sebek, but he’s starting to understand why someone like you would find such subservience difficult to deal with. At any moment, Malleus could ask Sebek to grab some insignificant item of his and tread through the thick snow to deliver it to him, and the boy would do so with jubilation and utmost timeliness. You on the other hand wouldn’t be caught dead ordering someone to do something on your behalf when you believe you are well and capable of doing it yourself.

You don’t put expectations onto the backs of others, choosing to trust yourself first before anyone else. He knows now that it’s a result of the one instance where you expected something from someone, only to be thoroughly let down and left wondering if it was you who did something wrong.

Malleus cannot make up for the pain you’ve been subjected to, but he hopes that he can become the outlier in your life that surpasses any preconceived notions you may hold onto others. He hopes...No, he absolutely will be the one who brings you your well-earned and deserved joy and repose, just as you have done for him and continue to do so.

You love him, and he will ensure he is worthy of every last drop of your fidelity.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst writing #twst fanfic #fanfic: courtship #reader insert #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fanfiction #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns #x reader

85 notes · View notes