#given the insomnia and bad back sleep and I are already enemies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jishyucks · 3 years

Text

Eight Count ‣ lmh

‣ genre: fluff, enemies-to-lovers, hogwarts!au, I think it's a slow burn

‣ wc: 10.8k

‣ summary: "There's honestly no way Minho would like me. And me of all people would know that." ; in which fate decides to be an ass and make you and Minho dance partners

‣ an: I'm sosososo sorry @ whoever requested this bc of how long it took. I didn't mean for it to be so long but it kept going and uni is to blame bc all of the work :(( but anyways enjoy !!

You feel the beat of your heart quicken as you maneuver through the maze of corridors that you had begun to approach. Time was ticking. The first classes of the day had already started about half an hour ago, and here you were, racing down the stone hallways, tardy and a bit dazed.

It had only been a mere five minutes since you had woken up in the dormitories in pure panic, the realization that everyone had left and you were still cuddled up against one of the pillows in your bed driving you to act quick. You could accuse your housemates of not even bothering to check if you were alive, but you soon decided to place the blame on your body's restlessness and inability to go to sleep when you wished. You wouldn't call it insomnia, but your sleeping patterns weren't normal either.

Approaching the dance room with a quiet sigh of relief, you tug at the wooden door and peek in, hoping that you weren't barging in at such a humiliating time.

Scattered around the rather room, students were paired in twos. Each couple's bodies had been facing each other, hands sitting awkwardly in the other's while their faces were turned towards the dance instructors, Professor Shin and Professor Na. By the look on Professor Shin's face, it was evident that she was about to continue speaking, but the door swinging open had caught her attention.

"Ahh Y/N, nice of you to finally join us," she clasped her hands in genuine excitement, passion towards dance obviously bubbling up inside of her.

You grinned crudely and bowed your head, "W-what should I do, Professor?" Spotting your best friend Felix within the group of students, he tried his best to send you a look of 'we were supposed to be partners'. You shot him an apologetic expression back before turning your attention back to both professors.

After a brief pause in thought, Professor Na's face lit up, "Ah yes! Lee Minho lacks a partner as of now!" Following the eyes of your teacher, they brought your line of sight to the far corner of the room where Minho had been sitting. At the mention of his name, he raised his head to see that everyone had been gaping back at him in what seemed like total silence.

A sharp intake of air through your nose had replicated a gasp, eyes growing wide, "P-pardon?" Out of all the boys in the class, an amount you couldn't keep track of with your fingers, you had to end up with Lee Minho? The human embodiment of a wet sock?

Minho was… unbearable, to say the least. It wasn't that he had done something for you to hate him, which made you seem like a bad person, but in all honesty, your guys' personalities didn't seem to match. He was too arrogant, in your opinion. He has this energy that he carries that really didn't sit well with you, and by the looks of it, the feeling was mutual. It was as if you both ended up on the opposite bc end of everything.

It really doesn't help that you're a Hufflepuff, and he's a Slytherin. For some unknown reason, they always loved teasing the people from your house, though Hufflepuffs chose not to return their actions.

"Mr. Lee is the only student remaining with no partner."

You gulped and slowly approached him, only because your professors had motioned you over to him. If you could protest, you would, but what was holding you back was the attention given by the entire class and the teacher's who seemed too excited for their own good.

Minho pressed his tongue against his inner cheek, eyes lighting up in wrongly-fueled happiness. He hopped from the upper bench and down across from you. You blinked back at him dryly, maintaining calm yet trying to speak to him with your eyes.

Crossing his arms, he leaned forward and smirked, "Why the bitter face? You should relish in your luck for ending up with me."

"Stop talking, dead cells are coming out of your mouth… Luck my as–"

"Now! That everyone has a partner, I'd like you all to stick with these individuals until these classes are finished," Professor Shin had announced. It was quickly followed by groans and whining from many of your classmates. Though you hated your partner and wished you had arrived earlier and paired with Felix, you stood quiet, isolating the anger within your chest.

"And before we begin once again," Professor Na added, "I'd like to point out that this is still a class. We will be holding a class particularly focused on evaluation and your grade will be heavily based on participation over the length of this course." Once again, a chorus of grumbles had flooded the room.

You hear Minho curse under his breath, only because he was now two steps too far into your bubble, "This is utter bullshit."

This time it was your turn to taunt, "Why? Are you scared or something? Can't dance? Can't keep up with everyone?"

Narrowing his eyes, he scoffs, "Oh, shut your mouth, bumblebee. Just wait and see."

ii.

"Get up!" Felix tugged at your arm, voice sounding louder than it actually was. When you hadn't shifted at all in your bed, he sighed and tugged once more, "Y/N!"

"Wha– Felix you're not allowed in here!" You kicked at your blanket and sat up.

"We need to get to dance class," he clicked his tongue, "Let's go~"

"I really don't want to go," you whined, "I'd rather fail a class than hold hands with Lee Minho for an hour and a half." Felix dragged you out of your bed to see that you were already dressed in your robe, only your yellow and black tie had been carelessly tied.

"Wait, did you not change out your clothes from yesterday?" Felix jumped back in exaggeration, alarmed and slightly grossed out. His nose scrunched while he judged you through his eyes.

You glared at him and scoff, "Of course I did, you idiot. And don't act like you haven't done that." You take this as your victory as it was true, Felix had gone two days without changing, and it was a bit nasty considering all the places he's gone to in a day.

This time it was his turn to glare at you, "You shut your mouth! Now let's leave before Snape sees us roaming the halls once class starts."

Minho winced slightly, trying not to let your feet ruin the simple waltz routine that the class had finally run through, "If you step on my foot one more time, I'm shoving yours up your arse." His teeth were gritted in frustration, looking down at you with narrowed eyes.

"Then stop stepping on my feet," you muttered back, hoping that no one else, especially the professors, were hearing you two bicker.

It had only been about two lessons into the class and that amount of times that Minho had purposefully disrupted the routine… as if it were good, to begin with.

The two of you found it difficult to fall in sync with each other. It was always either going too fast or too slow, someone making an 'accidental' mistake, and Minho's favourite, holding your hand and hip with a tight and stubborn grip. It wasn't evident whether he was doing it on purpose, either, but you had pointed it out plenty of times, and he never seemed to loosen them.

"I'm not stepping on them," he pushed you back a little too early in the dance, causing you to stumble on your own feet. This caught the attention of those around you, though they carried on almost immediately after.

"Tell that to my bruised toe," you argued back.

As if you were being blessed, the music had finally come to an end. You promptly retracting your arms and to your body and taking a step back from Minho. He had done the same, going an extra mile to turn away from you and to the professors.

"Perfect! Perfect!" Professor Na's face lit up from excitement, "Now that we have learned this simple routine, next class we are moving on to one of the actual dances done in the Yule Ball as tradition. I hope you all are excited as I am!" Very few students had taken time to let out a "whoop" while everyone else, including you, chose to retrieve their books at the seats.

Felix approached you with a pitiful smile. He already knew what you were going to say, patting your back gently, "So how was it?"

Exhausted, you just shook your head and shrugged. Being partners with Minho honestly had been completely draining for you, mentally and physically, which was unusual as you could often live through such situations without feeling the need to scream.

"What else do you think?"

Felix nodded apologetically and puffed out his cheeks, "Is it as bad as the potions exam we had in fourth year?" He shuddered subtly and led you out of the classroom. Just thinking about that exam made Felix want to claw at his brain. If there was a way to take a particular memory and make it disappear from the chamber of long term memories, he would. Maybe then he'd be able to get a few more hours of sleep.

"Yes," you replied simply. The test was equally as horrible for you, but a test didn't force you to 'create chemistry' with a certain Slytherin.

"You're lying… can't be that bad," Felix laughed lightly.

"Easy for you to say," you sighed.

From behind, you feel someone bump your shoulder and pass by you, "Oops," he snickered, walking backwards to watch your reaction. The only thing he was missing was popcorn.

You turned to see Minho and rolled your eyes, "Ha-Ha, you're so funny, Lee Minho." Such a childish joke and you guys were almost leaving Hogwarts.

Though your reply had been dripping in sarcasm, Minho's wit had dodged it entirely, "Well thank you very much," he bowed, more like a manly curtsy, before he ran off, leaving Felix slightly puzzled at what just happened.

"Don't you see how much of a dingbat he is? He constantly chooses to pick on me just to get a reaction out of me," you utter, "He should be glad I was raised to be patient, if not I'd be hexing him like the world was near its end."

"I see a pattern," Felix hummed. The expression on his face looked as if he had come to an incredible epiphany.

Making a face, you click your tongue, "What do you even mean by that?" What pattern? Green, white, green, white? Minho and his constant need to be the crow to your crops?

Felix patted your head, "You're slow sometimes, you know that right?" He puffed his cheeks up and raised his brows as he looked down at you as if you were a kid.

"Can you just spit it out?" you narrowed your eyes at him before you physically pried his hand off your head.

"Minho does all of that just to get a reaction out of you," Felix presses his lips into a thin line, slowly forming a smile.

Finally arriving at the next classroom, you groaned, "You basically repeated what I said earlier…"

"If you didn't know this already, boys love getting attention from someone they are attracted to," Felix plopped into his seat. You followed right after, "I should know… I'm a boy."

You almost laugh at the tone of his voice. The confidence and the look he gave you to emphasize his statement; was all too funny, "So what you're saying is… Lee Minho has a – and god forbid– crush on me?" Felix nods like a young child, with eyes wide and a tight-lipped smile.

"Bollocks," You burst out laughing, "Felix, I love you, don't get me wrong, but you've never said anything more rubbish in the years I've known you."

"The chances are never zero," Felix put his index finger as if he were saying it in 'a matter of fact'.

You lean forward and sit your chin at your folded forearms. You eyed the teacher as she made her way into the room, "You're right there, Lix, but there's honestly no way Minho would like me. And me of all people would know that." You locked that statement in, feeling your words and emotions contradict.

Right?

iii.

"And then Y/N had the audacity to step on my foot," Minho kicked at the bench across from him, frustration released after what seemed to Seungmin was years of ranting. He didn't mind though, in years of being in the same house as him, he learned how to block him out yet still know what was going on when Minho asked for some sort of reply.

Minho tapped the end of his pencil against his textbook, eyes drifting off elsewhere in the grand hall. Students were clumped at their respective tables, studying for whatever class they had. Minho was trying to do the same, but his state of mind was not in the mood. But he was trying, he was pushing himself, that's what mattered in his opinion.

Turning his attention to Seungmin, who was seated next to him, he jumped, seeing that Seungmin's eyes were wide and directed at him, "What the hell!?"

"What?" Seungmin shifted back forward, facing his own books. In a sense, the scene was hysterical. He acted as if he hadn't done anything wrong or out of the ordinary, but Minho still tried to push an explanation out of him through looks.

"What do you mean what? Why were you looking at me like that?" Minho put his pencil down and closed his book on it.

"I was trying to see something," the boy shrugged and got back to his own work.

Again, Minho furrowed his brows at Seungmin's lack of detail in his response. What in the world was he even trying to do? "Trying to see what? If you don't answer me properly–"

"Okay! Okay!" Seungmin exclaimed a little too loudly, earning looks from other wizards in the room, "You know that saying that if you're in love, you start to glow?"

"No? What type of nonsense are you saying?" Minho scoffed, "Love? Are you sick or something?" Roughly, Minho brought the back of his hand to Seungmin's forehead, which Seungmin had thrown off almost right away.

"You've been talking about Y/N this entire period, you haven't stopped until moments ago," wiggling his eyebrows, Seungmin whispered his reply to Minho, making sure no one would be able to hear him this time.

Minho's face had contorted into one of disgust and confusion, "And?" Where was Seungmin even going with this? He was just relieving stress. It's not that deep.

"My point is that they're the only thing you've been talking about lately," Seungmin scribbles his pen at the top of his paper to get it to work, "Even if I start the conversation, it somehow just shifts to Y/N. Normally I'd be mad, but since you're in love, I'll let it pass."

"In love?" Minho's jaw dropped, a mixture of emotions swimming around inside of him, "In love!?" Trying to find words to perfectly reflect what he was saying, he fails, shoving Seungmin off the bench. Actions spoke louder than words, right?

Seungmin smirked and chuckled, unfazed, "What? Cat got your tongue?" He gets up, dusting his robe off before sitting back down, "It's because I'm right, aren't I?"

Minho gulps, "Will you quit it? You're…"

"I'm…?"

"You're confusing me. Quit it," Minho huffs, gathering all his things as he was planning to return to the dormitories. This was a different way of playing with emotions. There was a zero per cent chance that he liked you, or worse, loved you. That word was way too strong, dangerous like amortentia.

"I take that as a yes!" Seungmin stood his ground, just letting out a genuine laugh.

Minho held a finger up at Seungmin, who still laughed, unbothered. He didn't like you. And if he did, it wasn't wrong to do so. It was an ordinary mortal thing to have feelings. But that didn't matter right now because he didn't like you, not even a tiny crush.

But that slight state of unfamiliar panic in his heart says otherwise.

iv.

The muscles in your arm were aching from the horrible fact that Minho had been purposefully letting his arm go limp while he was holding your hand, which somehow led to you holding up his arm with your arm. You frowned at him, tempted to let your arm fall in the middle of the routine.

"Can you actually put in some effort?" you whispered through gritted teeth. Squeezing Minnho's hand, you directed a look of annoyance that only returned with an amused look. Underneath his robe, you could tell he had been intentionally dragging his feet, causing the both of you to slowly hold those partnerships behind you up.

"I'm not wasting energy on this," he shrugs quietly, "It's ridiculous."

"What don't you find ridiculous?" you rolled your eyes, "You Slytherins and the lack of interest in anything but yourselves. Where's the excitement in that?" No, you didn't want to generalize the entire Slytherin population, especially since you had family members from that house, but you knew exactly how to rev up Minho's engine. Just by the way his face twisted, you knew damn well you hit the right spot.

"Shut your mouth before I spin you a little too hard…" he said a little bit louder, "I don't find it ridiculous, I just find that us being partners is ridiculous… who in this entire school would want to be partners with you?" Before you could even reply, he had caught you, "That's not from your house."

"Jokes on you, I know plenty of people who would be partners with me," you scoffed, and it was true. There was Jisung who had somehow been sorted into Gryffindor, Hyunjin and their seniors, Bang Chan and Changbin. And there was Jeongin, who was a Ravenclaw. You could list a handful more, but that's beside the point.

"Silence is deadly," he stifled a laugh which had driven you to 'accidentally' stumble over your own feet. This caused him to stumble himself, only he wasn't prepared for it, "I'm blaming you for ending up being my partner. I was hoping someone else would've entered the room. But no, it had to be you."

"You're blaming me? For this?" You shake your head out of disbelief, not noticing that your voice had gone louder. You were catching the attention of those around you and the professors at the front of the room, "You could have found a partner you wanted in the first place but you probably decided to stay back and wait for someone to go up to you. No one wanted to be partners with you, which is why you ended up alone in the first place."

Minho's eyebrows furrowed, eyes almost on fire at what you had just said, "You know what?!"

Before he had been able to continue the banter, Professor Shin had cleared her throat. The glares that they both were sending your way had caused the both of you to stop with the squabbling, "Y/N, Minho, I know we've never talked to the two of you about your constant bickering, but it is simply interrupting the atmosphere of my classroom."

Taken aback, the both of you had stumbled over each other's feet, falling to the ground and causing a domino effect among the rest of the students.

Flustered, you turn to Minho, "That was all your fault, Lee Minho." You huffed and attempted to get up, failing once you noticed that Minho was practically lying on your leg.

"Oh be quiet," he rolled his eyes and dusted himself off, "That was all you! You and your two left feet." The rest of the room was silent, regardless of the incident. All ears and eyes were on the 'love birds,' not entirely sure whether or not they should blame you both on what had just happened.

Sliding out from underneath him, you scoffed, "Don't speak so highly of yourself, Minho."

Minho cackled, "Highly? Of myself?!"

"Stop this instant!" Professor Na had finally mustered up the courage to intervene, anger bubbling in his stomach, "Enough!" The two professors began helping the students up, scolding both of you as they did.

"Five points deducted from your respective houses," Professor Shin said sharply, "And you both are now in charge of polishing the floor every Friday for the following three weeks."

"But professor–"

Minho was cut off, "That, or ten points off for your houses…" And without another word, you both chose to polish the floors after all classes were done for the day.

Day one of polishing the floors was practically the most difficult. Not only did the professors restrict using magic to finish the chore, but the overall idea of doing something alongside Minho aggravated you, which was why you hated dancing with him so much. The comments he'd make, the taunting looks he'd give you, the jokes that were obviously uncalled for, they all were honestly bringing you to the point of near insanity.

At first, both of you had decided to start off on the same side, almost the same corner. But the moment you noticed Minho constantly glancing your way in the corner of your eye, you decided against it, "How about I start at that end."

"Whatever floats your boat," he mumbles, "I don't care."

The tone in his voice hadn't matched yours, which you assumed was polite enough not to spark some type of that energy in him, but it did.

"Whatever," you make your way to the other end, sliding your robe off on the way. You let it hang off one of the benches, making sure it wasn't touching the floor. You rolled up your sleeves and started polishing the further end of the room, a bit relieved that Minho wasn't hovering anywhere within your line of sight. It was better that way.

The second day, you were hoping that you could get through a period of cleaning without hearing Minho's ungodly voice. He had been moving back and forth from one corner to the other, feet squeaking seemingly endlessly against the floor. You wished that the volume of the music could be turned up louder.

"I'm doing more than you are," Minho pointed out. You turned to find that he was standing in the middle of the room, hair messy and beads of sweat lining his hairline. His collar was out of place, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows just as yours were. Did he, for some reason, look attractive, or was it the lack of light in the room? Probably the latter.

"What do you mean you're doing more than I am?" you feel your eyebrows knit together in confusion, "I'm doing the same amount of work as you." And you were, but you were working just a bit slower than he was. He had probably sped through his area with the idea that the sooner you both finished, the sooner you were able to leave.

"Just hurry up," he groaned. Minho dragged his feet over to a lone stool, pushing it against the wall before plopping into it. The music continued to play, drowning out the shuffle noises of his feet.

"No," you replied, keeping your speed consistent. It wasn't like you wanted to stay longer. It was the fact that Minho couldn't leave until you were finished that was making you act this way. Maybe if he did his job well, he wouldn't be sitting around doing nothing.

Tile by tile, you continued to carry out the chore given to you, not paying mind to the pair of eyes that were burning holes into your back. You ensured that the areas you had worked on were basically spotless, reflection or not, you assumed that shiny meant clean.

Minho had been humming along to the somewhat catchy tune, foot tapping to pass the precious time he believed you were wasting. Nonetheless, he leaned back and sighed, hoping you could finish in time, so he had time to nap before dinner.

"Why do they even need classes for dancing?" He sighed out. At first, you weren't quite sure if he was speaking to you or if he was just thinking out loud, "I feel like we'd be fine either way…" You turn to look at him, seeing that he was already staring at you down.

"I mean it's going to look nice at the Yule Ball,"

You replied.

"Yeah but not everyone's going… it's a waste of time," Minho had a point, yet you still found it somewhat amusing that the school would want to organize such things.

"I don't see why you don't just skip class if you find it a waste of time," you moved onto another spot and sighed, "No one's stopping you."

"Yeah but who'd be your partner then?"

Not knowing how to react to his question, you keep quiet. Minho decided not to follow up on the problem, thinking that he had said something out of the ordinary.

The sun had reached the horizon when you finished your portion of the room. You stood up to stretch, hearing the joints of your knees and back pop out of exhaustion. It was satisfying to see the difference between the used, scruffy floor and the clean, polished floor.

"Okay Lee Minho I'm finished," without taking a glance at the boy, you made your way over to the record player. You lifted the needle off and picked the record up, slipping it into its sleeve. It didn't occur to you that Minho hadn't shifted in the past thirty minutes, silence filling the room because you turned the music off.

"Minho?" Finally turning to him, you found him sleeping with his head sat back against the wall. His mouth was wide open, practically becoming a makeshift trap for bugs that happened to be flying around. The rest of his body was limp, legs spread out beneath him. It was surprising that he hadn't fallen off yet.

You walked up to his sleeping figure and laughed lightly, wishing you had a camera to capture this moment. It would've been great blackmail. Maybe then he'd start being nice to you. Naturally, your eyes followed the slope of his nose, then to the two front teeth that stuck out from underneath his top lip.

He had bunny-like features, and you didn't mean that in a wrong way. His face was still sculpted nonetheless. Anyone with eyes would have to admit that he was attractive.

"Done staring at me yet?"

You screamed and jumped back, pressing your hand up to your chest as if to calm you down. Looking back at Minho, you find that his eyes were still closed, yet a smirk had replaced his gaping mouth. The number of curse words that threatened to leave your mouth was countless, the embarrassment creeping up to your cheeks. He finally lifted his head to look at you, eyes still a bit droopy from his nap.

"I-I wasn't staring at you," you denied, shaking your head a bit too aggressively, "Well I was… but because I was laughing at how foolish you just looked."

An offended look surfaced Minho's face, scowling at you as he stood, "I have this feeling that you're lying, bumblebee… Anyways, this is where I leave. Finally, after years." He shook his rolled-up sleeves so that the cuffs slid back to his wrists. You let him leave without another word from the two of you, still in a bit of shock at what just happened. You knew he was never going to let you forget that.

You slumped next to Felix as dinner was being served, an expression almost as heavy as your posture. He looked down at you, debating whether or not he should interrupt the mini montage you were probably playing through your head.

"I want to ask you how the cleaning today was but I think I already know just by looking at you," he stated, sliding a piece of roasted chicken your way, "Unless you do want to speak about it. Just eat and the day's over."

You gave him a grateful smile and gestured for him to eat too, eyes lighting up slightly, "I'm actually not tired from cleaning that stupid dance room, but it's just… this thing that happened. It was beyond embarrassing."

Felix snorts and stuffs his cheeks with food. His words came out muffled as he still chose to reply with a full mouth, "What happened this time?"

You glanced towards the Slytherin table, eyes scanning it quickly to get one quick look at Minho before you whispered, "Minho fell asleep waiting for me to finish cleaning. He looked idiotic as he did so I sorta just—how do I say this— stared at him? But it wasn't like I was admiring him, it was more like I didn't want that stupid look on his face to go away. It was amusing."

"And?"

"In the middle of that he went, 'are you done staring yet?' It was like he had a sixth sense or something," you muttered, "Now I feel like he's making fun of me."

"Doesn't he always make fun of you," Felix had yet again stuffed his mouth, so his words were still muffled, "Why does it matter this time?"

"It's different. It's not some useless situation… it was genuinely embarrassing," you poke the food before taking a bite of your own, "He's going to it against me, I already know."

"Don't worry, I'm pretty sure he'll forget it sooner than you will."

"Hey remember when I caught you staring at me?" Minho's voice echoed faintly throughout the room. He stood up to stretch before he crouched back down.

"I never stared at you," you sneered, "And why are you talking about that as if it happened years ago. That was literally last week."

"That's long enough in my book," he retorted, "Good times." A small reminiscing type smile appearing on his lips.

"Can you not start? I sorta want today to be stress-free and you're literally ruining it," you roll your eyes and move onto the next tile on your side. Minho had decided to choose a different record to play today, one the professors had never played in class. It had been hidden behind all the other records being used, and it took Minho a good five minutes to rake through all of them just to get to it.

The songs were more upbeat than the waltz music you were forced to listen to, which was actually much more perfect for cleaning to. It made it a bit more bearable than the last two times you had to clean.

Minho didn't reply, though you didn't see how he switched glances between you and the mechanical polisher in hand. The track had shifted into a faster song, something that was easy to dance to. From where he stood, he could see your knitted eyebrows, eyes dropping from the slight fatigue blanketing over you after a long school day.

Upon awareness that his shoulders were slumped, he straightened himself and sighed. This week had indeed been a long week, and it was evident in some way in both of you. This was the last of the week's labour before he could go and relax while mindlessly saving his homework for Sunday.

The music had been tempting to let go earlier than he should for the week, the steady beat and the catchy melody filling the room.

Putting the polisher and the rag down, he took a few steps towards you, still contemplating whether he should do what he was thinking or not. He was unsure whether it was bizarre for him to pull such a thing. But you did say you wanted a stress-free day, so he thought he should switch up a bit.

He started moving his body to the rhythm of the music, head bobbing as it took over him naturally. It was easier dancing alone than with a partner, that's for sure, but he wanted to invite you.

"Y/N!" He was freestyling, arms flailing and legs bringing him across the room with a swift movement.

You sighed, "What now?" Turning to Minho, you find him in the middle of the dance room, doing what the room was made for. He had a foreign smile on his face, not the usual smirk you'd find him sporting.

"What the–"

"Join me!"

You went through several different emotions in seconds, confusion, amusement, joy, contemplation… how were you supposed to react to a goofy Minho?

"Join me!" He repeated. This time he approached you, hands out in invitation, "C'mon it's fun!"

"Minho, we have to finish this so we can leave, remember?" You tried to keep a stern look on your face, yet you couldn't hold back the smile that had been forcing itself out. Minho suited this look; It was happier and carefree. You didn't know that his eyes would light up when he smiled a somewhat gummy smile.

"I know, but let's take a break," being the impatient boy he was, he took hold of your hands and pulled you up. He led you in a dance that probably wasn't considered a partner dance. He just pushed your arms back and forth like those scenes in the movies.

"Minho!" You finally let out a laugh, feet unable to keep up with his. He was sidestepping left, then sidestepping right, then back and forth, all unplanned. You stumbled, letting out joyful laughter that was rare around Minho. He laughed along with you, eyes disappearing the bigger his smile got.

When your legs had gotten worn out from constant movement, you tripped over one of them, sending you and your dance partner to the ground. Instead of erupting anger that would have usually washed over you, fits of laughter fell in its place, echoing throughout the room.

Before you could ask if he was okay, you hear footsteps enter the room, a confused Professor Shin staring the both of you down, "What are you two doing?! This is not polishing the floors!" The exasperation changed the normal hue of her skin into a shade of crimson.

Quickly apologizing, you get up and return to your so-called 'stations,' not being able to say another word about what had just happened to each other.

You wouldn't admit it out loud, not in front of Minho at least… but that was the most fun you've had in weeks.

Little did you know, Minho felt the same way.

There was a part of you who had gotten used to Minho's horrible dancing after two weeks of dancing classes. After what happened last week, there was a tiny sliver of toleration that had surfaced from both of you. It was mutual. But obviously, neither of you were going to admit it.

Though Minho was starting to get somewhat bearable, there were still days when he'd begin to act up, smirk pinned tightly on his lips while he mischievously pranced about in the dance room. Today was one of those days.

When Professor had slipped the record onto the play, dropping the needle onto the very edge and starting it, Minho had chosen to let his body go heavy, relying on you to haul him around like a giant, weighted ragdoll. You knew he wasn't tired, just judging by the look in his eyes.

"Give it up," you tugged him roughly in one direction, then again towards another, feet hardly following the steps the class was taught the past few weeks. If Minho let his body grow just a bit limper than it already was, his head would have fallen directly onto your shoulder. If you were being honest, you didn't want any attention from anyone else in the room, "Lee Minho, I'm not in the mood for this today, okay?"

Minho's ears perked at the foreign tone that had slipped from your lips, sensing that you were being serious. You would tell him to quit it most days, but never with that tone; It was no fun if you weren't fighting back. Sighing quietly, he had picked his body up and started to follow the eight-count that Professor Shin was practically yelling out.

This minor change didn't go unnoticed by you, feeling his body grow lighter just moments after you'd ask him to quit it. Did he just…?

Other students in the room were surprised that you two were going more than thirty seconds without arguing like a married couple. Many sets of eyes didn't bother leaving the both of you, watching what would happen next in the twist of events.

Minho's feet carried his body swiftly; for the first time, he was guiding you like he was supposed to, but his eyes were glued to his feet, not wanting it to become weird if he were to make accidental eye contact with you. He didn't like how quiet it was between the both of you. The music didn't even do its purpose by filling the silence.

"Are you going to the Yule Ball?" Minho asked awkwardly. He twirled you as part of the dance. He recognized that look on your face which was basically a wordless reply, "That was probably a dumb question." Shaking his head, Minho mentally slapped himself. Never in his life did he fail with words.

"Of course I'm going," you replied rather expressionless, "Why would I not?" You were almost as confused as earlier. Minho trying to make a civilized conversation. Who the fuck was this? It wasn't Minho.

He shrugs, "I don't know… I guess you have a date…?" Minho, what the fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut as if the stone floor would swallow him wholly to take him away from this situation.

As puzzled as you were, you still decided to keep the conversation as it was, "Nope… I think I'm just going with Felix for fun." You tried to keep your tone calm when really you were freaking out. The only thing was you had no idea why you were freaking out, "Y-you?" Facepalm.

"No one."

None of you chose to speak after, not knowing where the conversation was going. The song was slowly reaching the end, which you had wished came sooner. Minho's hands were growing sweaty, and you wanted nothing more than to wipe your hand off. It was getting hot in the room too. Your collar was growing tight, throat itching for water.

Minho's heart was beating a bit too fast for his liking, but it was probably because he was growing tired from the moving. He wondered if you could feel how sweaty his hands were getting. Embarrassing.

"Final counts!" Professor Na called out before the static of the record player replaced the music. The two of the professors had clapped in adoration, overlooking all the students in the room.

Professor Shin had a broad smile on her face, "Beautiful! Gorgeous! Best one so far!" She twirled in place, "Thank you everyone! The Yule ball is in two weeks so I am very pleased with the effort you all are putting into this class! Remember we still have the final class in which you are graded, which I'm sure you all will ace."

"I couldn't care less," Minho mumbled, only so you could hear.

You turn to him, squinting your eyes and tilting your head to express your slight frustration, "You know I'm your partner right?"

"Oh no~ really?," he stuffed his hands into his pockets, "And?"

"And? I don't want to fail this class, even though I'm forced to dance with you," you stated, "So don't you fucking dare fail us both." That tone in your voice was evident once again, catching Minho off guard. The only reason that it had this effect on him was that he was so used to you choosing to fight back. It was like some sort of reminder that everyone around him was getting old, and soon all those around him were expected to be serious.

Nevertheless, Minho shrugs to annoy you, "Whatever."

Instead of answering, you eyed him once more. Your dancing just a few moments ago says otherwise.

You had practically sighed out the total capacity of your lungs as you hung onto Felix's arms on the way out the door.

"What are you sighing about?" He chuckled.

"You already know," you elbowed him.

Felix rolled his eyes and sang, "I saw you guys dancing earlier~."

You pushed him away gently, shock littering your face and posture, "What the bloody hell are you on about now, Lee?"

"You guys actually look cute together when you aren't babbling and all," he grinned innocently. Your heart had the audacity to skip a beat, startling you just as much as Felix did.

"Cute?" You scoffed, "First you said you think he liked me, now this? Are you his wingman or something? Are you trying to get me to like him?"

Felix skipped in his step, "I don't even talk to Minho, Y/N, don't be ridiculous… wait… did you basically just say you're starting to like him?" He gasped, hand slapping over his mouth, which had fallen in shock.

"No," you say flatly.

"Liar," Felix poked at your rib, "Liar. At least confess that you find him less bad."

"Sure, whatever makes you happy, Felix."

When you had fallen out of Felix's line of sight, you let the corner of your mouths turn up slightly. He said we looked cute, you think, only followed by you flicking yourself in the temple.

"I thought you were staying here until it closed?" you frown at Felix, who started gathering his stuff. You both had planned on cramming everything in for a test the next day, but plans didn't go as planned when Felix was eager to go back to the dormitories to sleep until the morning.

"My eyes are going to fall out of their sockets if I don't go and sleep, Y/N," he pats your head as if he were talking to a young child, "You can stay if you want. I know how much you hate studying in the common room." He double-checks his area to ensure he hadn't forgotten any of his belongings before patting your head once more. He grins and turns towards the door of the library, leaving you sitting alone at the table.

"Felix ~" You called out quietly, only for him to wave with his back facing you. You sighed and slumped back in your chair, resting your arms on the handles. Libraries were so much better when you had company.

The words in the textbook were starting to turn into blobs of ink, and for a second, you were thinking about following in Felix's footsteps. After moments of consideration, you shook your head and sat up. You'll stay, even if it was against the will of your fatigue self that had been prompting you to leave. This was all your fault anyway. Procrastination was a cruel thing.

Hunching forward, you let your eyes trace over the words, trying to process the information. You rewrote the info you wished to remember carelessly. Your notes resembled chicken scratch, but at this point, you didn't care because it was simply supplementary to your studying. The sun was close to its horizon, and the library was close to empty. It was somewhat more motivating.

Slowly the information had started to get more interesting. It was easier to run through the key terms and ideas listed in the textbook, and you could feel the exhaustion simply leaving your body. I'll finish this one last chapter and then save the rest for lunch tomorrow.

Your focus on the book had hindered your peripheral vision that the presence of another wizard floating over your shoulder went unnoticed. It was only until they had sat down next to you when you finally noticed.

You jumped in your seat, eyes growing wide. You had luckily suppressed your scream with your hand, which you had, out of defense, swung forward, slapping the person in the chest.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You don't sneak up on people like that, Minho," you rolled your eyes at the Slytherin, shifting away from him before turning your attention back towards the textbook. He scooches closer with intentions of irritating you, pushing his face towards your book, "What are you doing?"

You push him away and stick one of the thicker books between you both, "What does it look like?"

"Studying?"

"You're smarter than I thought, Lee Minho," sarcasm dripped from your voice as you glared at him. Attempting to continue with the final chapter, you miserably fail when Minho interrupts your concentration by tapping his fingers loudly against the wooden table.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" you say numbly, voice muffled by your robe, "I was literally just sitting here and you decide to do this."

Minho shrugs and uses his arms as a makeshift pillow, "I was bored, saw you, here I am, I'm here to stay."

Your eyebrows furrowed at the fact that Minho decided to 'spend time with you upon seeing you. You had no idea whether to feel flattered or irritated, but you knew you were confused. He could've just gone back to the Slytherin dungeons to sit with his housemates, but he saw you and decided to sit with you.

Staring blankly at the bookshelves across from you, you huffed out the corner of your mouth, blowing a stray strand of hair by your cheek. You did say you wanted company. You just weren't sure if it was Minho's company that you wanted. Glancing down briefly at him, and looked back up to the bookshelves.

"Fine," you say after pondering about the idea.

Minho's ears perked up, raising his brows, "Fine?"

"Just don't be loud."

Minho's head tilts in confusion, though he still complies, sitting next to you patiently. You continued to read through the final chapter, which you had underestimated in length. The chapter was a good half a centimetre in thickness. Though it didn't seem as much at first glance, the pages were practically dipped in ink, words covering it from one corner to the other.

You could feel your eyes grow heavy as you delve deeper into the chapter. Your bed was calling for you, but there was no way you were going to give. Not until this chapter was finished.

The library had been silent except for the occasional click of the pen from the librarian's desk. You had been mentally counting down the number of pages left to skim over, eager to feel that feeling of satisfaction you usually get once you finish a task. It was the same feeling as crossing or checking off a chore on a to-do list.

Minho had settled his eyes on the centre of your book, keeping them steady even as you flipped the pages. He felt the lids of eyes gradually get heavier as each page went by, and by the time you shut the book in delight, he had fallen asleep.

"Again?" You furrowed your eyebrows, remembering the last time he had fallen asleep in your presence. You darted your eyes away from his dormant figure, not making that same mistake twice, "Minho, wake up."

He stirs right away, head rising from his arms. This time he says nothing, pushing himself off of the library's chair before stumbling over his own feet as he makes his way to your side. He looked like a toddler, and it was admittedly adorable.

"Why didn't you just go straight to the dorms if you were tired," you snorted at his dumbassery. Some students still littered the halls even if curfew was nearing. Instead of parting from your side at the library's entrance, Minho stuck by your side.

"I wanted to spend time with you outside of class," he grumbles. He blinks at the long corridor in front of you two, eyes barely staying open from exhaustion.

Feeling your heart skip a beat, you tried to pick out if he was joking or not, but his tone screamed, 'I'm tired.' Any other emotion was hard to comb out, so you sighed and shook your head, pressing your lips into a smile, "Sleep that cheesiness off, Lee Minho."

Minho continued to walk next to you, silent and confused about what you just had said. It wasn't like he was drunk. He was well aware of what he just said. Nonetheless, he subtly walked you to the kitchen corridor, parting ways with you with an uttered 'goodbye.'

vi.

Sitting against the stone wall, you watched the rest of the class carry out the dance routine, formation changes and all. You ran through it with them, only mentally as your partner was nowhere to be found, and the class was halfway done.

There were barely any classes left before the final graded run through, and Minho really thought it'd be funny to skip? You would have let it pass if you guys weren't the worst duo in the room, but you guys are the worst duo in the room, which made the situation different.

"Professor Na," You asked quietly, "Has Lee Minho been excused from today's class. Is he ill?" You didn't want to jump to conclusions, keeping in mind that people did have their own reasons. Maybe he had caught a cold or was doing a missed exam that was far more important than dancing.

"No word from Minho, Y/N," the professor hummed back.

You frowned and thanked him, turning back to the main dance floor, students moving in sync. Where was he?

Just as you had finished your train of thought, the door had swung open just like it probably did on the first day of class. Minho stumbled in, hair a mess and a rather sheepish smile stamped on his lips.

"I apologize Professors," he bowed deeply, following the perimeter of the room. He bowed again as he reached the two instructors at the front of the room.

Professor Shin stopped her counting, "No need to apologize to us, apologize to your partner." She gestured towards you, already looking back. Minho nodded and approached you, though when he did reach you, he didn't apologize.

"And?"

"And what?" Minho ridiculed.

"Aren't you going to apologize like what the Professor asked?" You tried not to laugh at how Minho had been acting.

Minho let out a cackle, “No? Why should I? Can you stand up so we can start dancing or something?" His hand was itching to reach out for yours, feeling like he should pull you towards him, but he hindered himself from doing so, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Instead of pushing the apology out of him, you decided against it, not wanting to waste any of your time, "Why are you even late?"

The two of you followed the crowd, joining in at the perfect time. Minho smirked, "Worried about me or something? I know I'm in your head twenty-four seven, but I didn't expect you to be so obvious about it."

Tightening your grip around his hand, you gritted your teeth, "I wasn't worried about you, nitwit."

"Then why are you asking?"

"Because you made me sit, doing nothing for nearly forty-five minutes?" You reply as if you were pointing out the obvious, "So why are you late and coming to class looking like a mountain troll?"

"Wow, ouch," he sighed, "I slept in. Am I going to hell for doing so? Because I can recall you did the same the first day and got us into this mess."

"This is about you, not me," you applied pressure onto his hands, causing him to stumble back slightly, ruining the rhythm he had built up. He furrowed his brows at you and did the same, only you were somehow ready for it.

"Oh please," Minho rolls his eyes, "You've done the same so you shouldn't even be mad at me."

"I'm only frustrated, not mad, there's a difference," you point out, "And I'm frustrated because we have that graded dance next week. If we fail, it's going to be your fault."

"It takes two to tango," he quoted, "And you already know where I stand on that. I don't ca-"

"Shut up, the professors are looking," you warned, flashbacks to the three weeks you had to polish the floors.

Minho laughed slightly, letting air blow out of his nose. He let his eyes drift down at you, keeping them there for a little too long.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, spinning you along with the other students, "You just looked way too terrified." The next move had the two of you closer than the initial space between you.

"I don't want to be spending an extra three hours with you after classes polishing the floor," you retort sharply. Instead of holding eye contact with him, you stared at the Slytherin crest on his uniform.

"I know you liked spending time with me, don't lie," he rolled his eyes teasingly.

"I'm not lying."

"You staring at me says otherwise."

"Oh hush about that already, I literally told you that I wasn't staring at you," Inwardly cringing, you felt relief once the music had stopped. You stepped back and eyed down the boy in front of you, "Why do keep bringing that up?"

Before Minho could give reasoning, Professor Na had spoken up from across the room, reminding everyone that the next class was the graded class. Though they wouldn't be strict with grading, he still wanted to see the students' effort 'flowing'. After a chorus of groans, class ended, allowing you to avoid Minho and find your way to Felix.

Someone tapping your shoulder had woken you up, head jolting up as if you were frightened.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Chaeryeong gasped sheepishly. She was hovering over you slightly, eyes wide. She was changed into her nightwear.

You sat up, only now realizing you had fallen asleep in the common room, "It's alright. What time is it?" You didn't even remember how you fell asleep, but you sure did have a good sleep.

"It's almost midnight," she replied, "I needed to grab water from the kitchen, then I saw you here and figured it'd be more comfortable for you to go to sleep in your own bed rather than this tiny couch."

You grinned, "Thanks Chae… I'll probably get something from the kitchen as well."

She nods and mumbles out a quick goodnight before disappearing to the girls' dorms. You return her farewell before standing up, eyes drawn to the wrinkles your nap had made on your robe. Attempting to straighten the robe and yourself out, you stumbled towards the Hufflepuff house entrance, exiting promptly.

The fireplace had been lit, a few house elves roaming about and carrying out their own duties. They paid no mind to you, as midnight snacks weren't out of the ordinary for Hufflepuffs.

You asked for what you needed, then was given it with no delay, "Thank you." The house elf nods before turning away with a grunt.

You sit at one of the tables, zoning out as you stared at the blazing fire across from you. School was getting a bit more stressful than it usually has, which was probably the reason why you had fallen asleep without knowing. You remember coming back from a long library visit. Maybe you collapsed on the couch once you did.

You made mental notes on the work still yet to be done before the following week, spontaneously creating a headache. Standing up, you figured it was best for you to go back to sleep. Slipping the dish into the sink, you started making your way back to the dorms.

You rubbed your temples and shook your head as you closed your eyes. It probably hadn't been a good idea to be wandering with your eyes closed as you had immediately bumped into something firm.

"Y/N?"

Looking up, you came face to face with Lee Minho, who was just as shocked as you were. He had been dressed down in a knitted Slytherin sweater and pyjama pants.

"Minho? What in the world?"

He backs up after noticing how close you were to each other, "Could say the same 'bout you."

"My dorms are right there," you point just down the corridor, "While yours is in the dungeon…"

Minho blinks before he tries to move around you, eyes avoiding yours.

"What are you doing here?" you grab his wrist, eager to find out why he was roaming the halls. It wasn't unusual for students to be breaking the rules, especially Minho, who loved living up to the stereotypes of a Slytherin. He smirks at the skinship, which prompts you to let go of him, heat rising up to your cheeks without warning. You're suddenly glad it's dim around the two of you.

"I was… taking a walk," he successfully pushes past you and into the kitchen, a glass of water already there for him. He thanks the house elf, leaving the glass, before turning back to you. By the looks of it, it seems like he's been doing this before, like a routine.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, "Taking a walk? You're painfully awful at lying." And the pause in his speaking gave that away. You followed behind him, expecting an honest answer as if you deserved to know.

"Weren't you just leaving?"

"But my question is unanswered," you shrugged.

"I answered you, I was taking a walk," he pushed the answer. Putting the cup down, he turned to you, "I have… sleeping problems."

"You just lied again," you nonchalantly, "Just tell me the truth. No judgment. A Hufflepuff's promise." You weren't usually one to push an answer out of someone, but this situation was different.

"You say no judgment but I already know how you're going to react to the truth," he takes another sip of water.

"So you were lying!" You raised your brows, "I knew it!"

"You don't deserve the truth," he sighs. Finishing the cup of water, he starts to make his way out, not even turning to look back.

"Lee Minho!" You groaned. Maybe it was your fatigue self or the fact this felt like some sort of game, but you weren't holding yourself back, "When I said I wouldn't judge, I won't. My mind's open to whatever you're going to say."

Minho spins around to face you, stumbling backward a few more steps before he halts, "I was practicing the dance steps."

No judgment.

The flat expression on Minho's face indicated that he had no intentions of lying this time. He had his hands hiding behind his back, eyeing you just to see if you would live up to your promise. Instead of his expected reaction, he finds you smiling, something he'd only see when you were around your friends.

"Wipe that smile off of your face, bumblebee," he mutters.

"Didn't you say you didn't care about that class?" you quoted, a smirk slowly replacing your smile, "Why are you practicing the steps?"

Minho licked his lips. He was at a loss of words, nothing but the truth occupying his mind… Why the hell not?

"Because you care."

You blinked back at him, lips parting and meeting several times as you tried to find the right words to say. The silence was deafening. "What?"

"Because you care," Minho repeated. He kept his expression still, eyeing you, trying to figure out how you were taking this in.

How would he further explain it? He didn't know. All he knew was that ever since that specific moment between the both of you the other day, he took it upon himself to better his partner dancing. He didn't want anyone else knowing, not you, and especially not his housemates, which was why he chose to stay up late to do this; it was the real reason why he had shown up late to class.

You weren't sure if it was because it was quiet, but you could easily hear your heartbeat as it quickened. You try to cover up the fact that you wanted to freak out, "I don't know whether I should laugh or–"

"Yeah, whatever, shouldn't have told you in the first place," he mumbles. For some reason, he felt his heart lub-dub in a way that it shouldn't. He frowned and sighed, "Just forget it."

"Wait, Minho," you call quietly. He stopped in his tracks and turned, partially facing the wall and facing you. He stared back at you with a vacant look, waiting for you to say something. If you weren't going to be saying something nice, he didn't want to hear it after exposing himself like that.

"'Because you care?'" you frowned, "You can't just say that and leave." You already made up a possible answer to the countless questions through your mind, but it was still unclear whether or not that was it.

"What else do you want me to say?" Minho stuffs his hands into his pockets.

"I just want you to explain it," you reply quietly.

Minho glanced out the window sitting by you both before sitting down on its pane, "Remember that other day… when I told you I didn't care?" You nod and move closer to where he sat, unsure whether or not you should sit next to him or not, "I don't know… you were really serious back then… I guess I wasn't used to that. So I figured…"

There was a quick moment of silence before he huffs, almost sounding defeated.

"Did you know that I genuinely don't dislike you as much as you think I do?" He says out of the blue, throwing you off. You wanted to tell him to sleep it off again—why did moments like this always happen at night?

"I don't either," you say back, "At first I did… but I matured."

"I only ever argued with you out of amusement. You're the only person outside of Slytherin that could out-talk me and it bothered me for some reason," he laughed as if he recalled a memory.

"Me intimidating a Slytherin? Just wait til the others hear about this," you joke. He glanced towards your direction and saw a clever glint in your eye.

"Don't you dare," he holds back a smile before standing up to face you directly, "Or…"

"Or what?" You challenged, "Imagine how Seungmin would react! Donghyuck and Renjun? What about Yeosang and Wooyoung?" You start listing the other well-known Slytherins off of the top of your head, holding back a laugh as you watch Minho's face crumble into an expression that looks far too close to fear.

Minho recollects himself and shakes some sense into himself, "Or I'll make you go to the Yule Ball with me." He hadn't planned on asking you today, but the timing was perfect. It fit with the situation. If you were to react unfavourably, then he could just joke about it.

His question shut you up. Your eyes widened at him as you processed what he had used as a threat, "What if I want to go to the Yule Ball with you?"

Minho takes a step towards you, a smirk appearing on his lips. His confidence was skyrocketing, and you can tell, "Then I guess it's a date?"

Rolling your eyes, you let a smile grace softly onto your lips, nodding, "It's a date."

Bonus:

"I told you to wear something with gold," you whined jokingly as you were greeted with Minho, who had completely dodged your request. Instead of the black and gold look you were going for, he decided to wear a black suit that had traces of emerald. As much you wanted to match with your date, you had to admit that he still looked as handsome as ever in the attire. He looked like a prince.

"And look like a Hufflepuff? No thanks," he scoffed teasingly. He pulls out a corsage, one that matches the clothes he wore, tying it gently around your wrist, "You look very beautiful."

"Well, you look very handsome."

Minho laughed as he sticks out his forearm, a brow raised in your direction. Music being played by the live band had been spilling out of the ballroom; the voices of everyone attending gave the ball more life. It was exciting.

"Minho!" Seungmin had called. Felix, who had slipped from your side the moment Minho approached you, was standing by Seungmin, smiling brightly. He had been hyping you up the entire night, telling you that there should be nothing to worry about.

He was right.

"Shall we?" Minho asked. It was cheesy, but it worked.

"We shall."

Hope you enjoyed it! A like would be appreciated <3

214 notes · View notes

iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Teas and Tisanes // G.W.

Request: Another request for my boy Georgie because I'm a needy bitch! Hahaha Set during OoTP, and they're at school and the whole Umbridge situation is really getting to the reader, and her anxiety spikes and she's struggling with sleeping and she hides her panic attacks from her amazing boyfriend (but he notices, just doesn't want to push!), until one night it gets so bad, she ends up sneaking into his room and sobbing in his arms and he soothes her and helps het sleep? just comfort and fluff!

A/N: Here’s your request! I’ve been working on it for so long so I hope it’s okay! Feedback is appreciated in any form whether it’s likes, reblogs or comments. As always, I hope you all like!

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, insomnia, nightmares and panic attacks BUT A LOAD OF COMFORT AND FLUFF AND A HAPPY ENDING.

Word count: 2.9k

The appointment of Dolores Umbridge as Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sent shockwaves through the entire student body.

They were all well aware of Umbridge’s presence – it was hard not to be, after all. With her constant decrees and her iron fist, Umbridge had become public enemy number one for the students at Hogwarts.

You had always had issues with anxiety; struggling with panic attacks since your early teens, but since the appointment of Umbridge, you’re experiencing the attacks and the sleeplessness that follows much more often.

There felt like there was no end in sight as you sat up night after night; tiptoeing down to the common room, sitting with your knees pulled up to your chest, resting your cheek upon them. The usual heaviness settling over you as if greeting an old friend, and from then, you knew that the next few would days would be spent jumping at loud noises and such.

George realises something’s wrong a day into your panicked state. He makes the extra effort to walk you to every class; holding your hand that little bit tighter, silently letting you know that he is there – and he always will be. He’s loved you since Fifth Year, and now two years later in your Seventh, George is certain he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. He’s well aware of how young you were, but his parents have loved each other since their Hogwarts years and who better to emulate than Arthur and Molly Weasley?

In a private moment in the Gryffindor common room, George pulls you to one side. One hand tangling with yours whilst the other brushes against your cheekbone. You lean into his touch; loving having him so close to you.

“You know I’m here, don’t you? If you ever need to tell me anything.”

“I know, I know,” You comment, burying your face in his chest.

His arms come to wrap around you tightly; his chin resting atop your head.

You hide the tears that threaten to fall. You just squeeze him that little bit tighter, thankful to know that he’s here and waiting for you to come to him.

-----

In your mind, Herbology is one of the calmest subjects offered at Hogwarts. Sitting in the greenhouse, you understand how young Neville Longbottom fell in love with the subject; deciding at such a young age to dedicate his future career too it.

You sit next to George throughout the lesson, and whilst it is one of the calmest subjects, it doesn’t stop your knee from jerking up and down for the majority of the lesson.

It seemed even in the safety of the glass greenhouse; your anxiety would not let up.

Thankfully, Professor Sprout has you up and about repotting Asphodel plants that have grown too big. It keeps you distracted for a time; your mind too busy on not damaging the valuable roots instead of on the crushing anxiety settling in your gut.

George flashes you wary glances throughout the class, and all you can do, is smile back at him with what you hope is reassurance. Each time you find yourself next to the red-headed teenager, you brush your hand against his gently. It takes everything within him not to pull you from the greenhouse and whisper reassuring words into your ear until you begin to believe them.

The bell rings, however. Standing from your seat, you look over to George where he remains seated.

“George?”

“I’ll follow you out, love. I need to ask Professor Sprout something.”

You smile smally at George before you leave the greenhouse. He promises he’ll meet you in the common room soon; you nod before grabbing your bag and heading out of the door.

George approaches Professor Sprout after the particularly long lesson. Usually, he’d be first out of the door, eager to finish his school day but he has more pressing matters on his hand.

“Professor?” George asks tentatively after waving Fred away.

“Mr. Weasley, is everything okay?” Professor Sprout questions, eyebrows reaching her hairline in surprise at the prankster still sat in his assigned seat.

“Everything’s fine with me. I was hoping you could help my girlfriend?”

“Whatever’s the matter with Miss (Y/L/N)?”

“She’s suffering from a lot of anxiety and I think she’s having panic attacks as a result. She hasn’t come to me yet, but I was hoping you’d know of a plant or an herb that I could brew into a tea or potion to help for when she does come to me.”

Pomona Sprout blinks away the sudden wetness in her eyes. She had never seen this side of the Weasley twin, and it oddly touched her. She clears her throat before answering, “Lavender is the most helpful with issues of anxiety and panic.”

“Lavender gives her migraines I’m afraid. Is there anything else?”

Sprout purses her lips, thinking of alternatives, “Jasmine for relaxation. Peppermint boosts awareness. Chamomile helps to calm the nerves too.”

George grins; happy to have an answer, “Thank you, Professor. I’ll go find them now.”

“Don’t spend your money, Mr. Weasley. Take some from greenhouse but don’t tell anyone I helped except for Madame Pomfrey who’ll help you brew this into a tea.”

“Thank you, Professor.” George whispers; touched by the kindness lacing her words. Then and there, George resolves to take Herbology more seriously; to work on improving his grades and attendance in class.

Professor Sprout waves off his thanks as she hands him bundles of the plants, “Go on. I’ll tell Madame Pomfrey you’re on your way.”

George nods once again before leaving the greenhouses, heading straight to the hospital wing.

Madame Pomfrey already has her cauldron heating up when George arrives at the hospital wing.

“Pass me your ingredients here, Mr Weasley, and I’ll show you what you need to do.”

George hands over his bundle of plants and herbs; eager to know how to help you manage your anxiety.

Madame Pomfrey, for the next hour or so, goes over the method with George meticulously, ensuring that he won’t make any mistakes should he need to create this brew on his own. She highlights how long it needs to steep and the right amounts to add so the brew isn’t too overwhelming.

“How often would you say it needs to be drunk for it to be effective?” George asks as Madame Pomfrey starts to ladle the mixture into a container for George to take with him.

“One cup, every morning, Mr. Weasley. For it to be effective. It’ll stay warm until morning in the container I’ve given you, but if you have any troubles with it, come see me.”

George nods, taking the container from Madame Pomfrey. He thanks her repeatedly before rushing out of the hospital wing, eager to get the tea safely to his room where he can keep it safe until morning.

He lets himself give in to the growing excitement coursing its way through his body; he truly feels as if he has found one way to help you with the anxiety that paralyses you so often.

Upon his arrival at the common room, he rushes to his room where he stores the tea in an empty drawer of his bedside cabinet. He bounds back to the common room where he finds you sat at a corner table, working on another essay set by Umbridge; he knows exactly which one – the theory behind the practicality of the stunning charm. He won’t write it in protest of her abysmal teaching methods – final grades be damned.

He takes the seat across from you, “Love? How are you?”

You smile at him tiredly, “I’m tired and hating Umbridge.”

“How much sleep are you getting?” George asks; a concerned lilt to his voice.

“Enough,” You comment lightly, turning your attention back to your essay.

George sighs at your evasion, but the last thing he wants to do is push you into saying something you aren’t ready to say yet.

He leans back into his chair; watching your work silently for a while.

He leans back into his chair, and he hopes and hopes that the freshly brewed tea now hidden away his bedside cabinet helps you step away from the edge you’re teetering so precariously on.

-----

Even in sleep, the panic finds you.

It has you sitting up in bed, gasping for breath after breath; trying to leech enough oxygen out of the air to be able to properly inflate your lungs, but not enough is coming in and you’re panicking more. The tell-tale sign of tears dampens your cheeks and the sobs only add to not being able to breathe.

You throw your quilt from your body; not caring if it slides off the other side of the bed. You push your feet into your slippers; rushing out of your room without a second thought.

You climb the flight of stairs to the boy’s dormitory; your tears coming faster and faster with each step. The headache you would have in the morning was something to worry about then, but already, you didn’t look forward to it.

The door to the boy’s dormitory, thankfully, opens quietly as you tiptoe into the room. The only sounds being the echoing of snores from Fred and Lee Jordan.

You find George’s bed easily; having slept in here so many times before. You smile a watery smile as you gaze down at the sleeping teenager; he’s kicked off the covers and lies with an arm covering his eyes as his mouth hangs open. It’s not the least bit attractive, but all the same, you find your heart racing at the sight of him.

You kick off your slippers before padding to the small gap of mattress available.

George startles awake at the change of pressure; blinking bleary eyed as he looks for the culprit of change. He relaxes a little when he sees you but is immediately worried by the sight of your tears.

“Love?” is all it takes for them to start anew.

You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs in order to not wake any of others in his dorm. George frowns, pulling you into his lap, wrapping one arm tightly around your waist as the other runs through your hair. He rocks you gently back and forth; all the while hushing you quietly, whispering words of calm and reason into your ear.

Your sobs turn to sniffles, and you slowly start to feel your eyes get heavier and heavier, but you force them open out of the fear of experiencing another nightmare.

“Do you want to try and sleep?” George mumbles into the dark.

You shake your head. “Nightmare?” He asks.

You nod your head.

“Alright, we’re going to need to move, love.”

George pats your hip, getting you to shift further down the bed so he can grab his dressing gown and a hoodie for you to put on over your pyjamas.

Your slippers make their way back onto your feet as you shove your arms through George’s hoodie, pushing the sleeves up some so it fits comfortably.

You wait by the door as George grabs a container of some sort from his bedside cabinet then he reaches for your hand and leads you down to the common room.

The fire still roars as you take a seat on the couch in front of it. Your tears have dried now, and you scrub at your face with the sleeve of George’s hoodie to remove their stain from your cheeks.

George sets the container down on the small table before sitting down next to you; his arms already open for you to crawl into. His fingers doodle a calming pattern through the material of his hoodie and your breathing relaxes into a more acceptable rate. He presses kiss after kiss to your hair and for a while, he’s silent on the whole matter.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” You whisper.

“Are you ready to talk to me now?”

You nod, “It’s all been piling up on me, George and I thought I could cope but I can’t. Exams, Umbridge and the Dark Lord – I don’t think I’ve had a full night sleep since term started. And on top of that, I feel so awful with how I’ve been treating you; I am so sorry, George.”

George hushes you as you start to ramble faster, “Love… Love, calm down. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, George.”

“I accept your apology. I’ve been so worried; I didn’t think you wanted to come and talk to me.”

Your eyes widen, “No! I did! I did want to tell you, but I was so scared of what you’d think.”

“Love, anxiety and panic attacks are not something I’m unfamiliar with. Ginny suffered with both after what happened in her First year.”

You nod your head as you think back to the small girl now in her Fourth Year. You hadn’t started dating George yet, but the feelings were there. It was the disappearance of his youngest and only sister that had you talking to him for the first time; offering him any words of comfort that you could think of.

“I should have known, but I didn’t think.”

“That’s okay, love. The fact that you came to me now means everything.”

You nod your head, smiling apologetically at the red-haired teenager that you fell in love with at the age of fifteen.

Curiosity being your besetting sin though, you can no longer ignore the container sitting on the table, “George, babe, what’s in the container?”

“Oh!” George yells, only just remembering that it’s there. Then he blushes deeply, “It’s something I had made for you.”

“What?” You gasp.

George manoeuvres himself out of your grip; reaching for the container. He opens the latches, happy to see the steam rising from the tea. The smell of the chamomile calms his racing heart, and he turns to you with a shy smile – two cups already poured.

“George?”

“So after you left Herbology, I spoke to Professor Sprout. I asked her for her advice on some plants or herbs that can help with anxiety.”

Tears spring to your eyes, “You didn’t?”

“I did,” He nods, “She suggested Lavender at first, but I know how it gives you migraines just from being in its vicinity, so I asked her for some alternatives. Chamomile, peppermint and jasmine. Then I went to Madame Pomfrey who showed me how to brew this tea to help with your anxiety. She said to drink a cup a day and see how it helps.”

“Oh George,” You hiccup; tears falling fresh down your face, “This is everything. Thank you, my love.”

You lean forward to catch George’s lips in a long kiss. Tears mix with the laughter coming from your mouth. George can barely kiss you for the smile on your mouth; instead, kissing your teeth.

George pulls away with a laugh, handing you a cup of the tea. Immediately, you blow on the hot liquid before taking a small sip. The tea warms your body and you settle back into the couch; George settling with you.

The scent of the chamomile has you feeling more relaxed, and just having the comfort of a warm drink in your hand, helps make you feel better.

As your grandmother would always say: everything can be solved over a cup of tea.

“What do you think?” George asks somewhat shyly.

“George, I think this is the best gift someone has ever given me.”

“Really?”

“Really,” You affirm, “You saw me struggling and instead of pushing me, you went out of your way to help find a solution for when things become too much. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“I have an idea,” George comments lightly.

“Oh?”

“Let me know when you start to feel this low again? Or if you think you’re going to? I know how to make this tea now, and I’m sure mum wouldn’t mind growing these in her garden especially if I tell her what they’re for. She’ll be happy to help in any way she can-”

You break off George’s nervous rambling with a kiss, “What did I do to deserve you?”

He kisses you again, “Nothing, my love. You were yourself.”

“I promise though. To let you know.”

“Thank you,” He whispers.

Silence falls over the both of you; settling happily as you drink your tea, already feeling the calming effects.

With the heat of the fire and the feel of George’s chest pressed into your back from where he’s relaxed back to where he sat, your eyes start to droop once more.

No longer afraid of the nightmares that could come; no longer afraid to face the panic now that George has helped and will continue to help, you let your eyes slide shut.

The morning after brings with it sleepy smiles and a calm atmosphere. You kiss George good morning before stealing away back to your own dorm where you can get ready for the day.

On your way to the Great Hall for breakfast, you find George leaning on the wall opposite the entrance, waiting for you.

“How are you feeling?” George greets.

“Better,” You admit with a smile, “I’m glad we talked last night.”

“I am too.”

You nudge his side with your elbow, smiling happily for the first time in days, “Come on, Weasley. You can treat me to breakfast.”

“Love, nothing would make me happier.”

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

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @msmimimerton

George Weasley taglist: @susceptible-but-siriusexual

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fluff #george x reader #george weasley x you #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #george weasley reader insert #reader insert #x reader #comfort fic #harry potter imagines #my writing

802 notes · View notes

emachinescat · 3 years

Text

Amytal Sodium + Mac

A MacGyver Fan-Fiction

By @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 8 - “hey, hey, this is no time to sleep”

Summary: An increasingly desperate Jack struggles to transport a drugged and barely coherent MacGyver to exfil before it’s too late.

Characters: Mac, Jack

Words: 1,898

TW: drugs

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging! :)

Even though the exfil point was less than a mile from where Jack Dalton stood, it had never been farther. This day was rapidly reaching Cairo levels of suck.

Jack had arrived to rescue his missing partner after an op gone to hell to find the two, now very dead, domestic terrorists who’d taken Mac injecting some foreign substance into his bloodstream. Jack would later find out that it wasn’t the first dose they’d given him - that’s why Mac hadn’t had the opportunity to escape on his own.

Because whatever this stuff was, it messed him up.

The bodies of the terrorists had barely hit the floor when Jack was racing across the room to his friend. Mac had been tied to a sturdy, high-backed dining chair, slumped in his bonds. It took Jack two seconds to cut the duct tape on his partner's wrists and ankles, but Mac hadn’t even seemed to notice he was free. He was awake, but he was not there. His blue eyes had glazed over with a detached vagueness that sent fear sparking down Jack’s spine.

With great effort, Jack had managed to hoist a limp MacGyver to a facsimile of a standing position, and that movement had elicited some response, much to Jack’s enormous relief.

“J-Jack?” Jack fought the urge to cry at the sound of Mac’s voice, weak and lost and scared - it didn’t sound like his partner at all.

“I’m here, pal,” Jack said simply. “Let’s get you home.”

It was easier said than done.

Even with Jack supporting him, Mac couldn’t keep his feet under him for very long. He attacked his newest mission - getting to exfil without Jack having to carry him - with a determination that was one hundred percent on brand for Angus MacGyver, but determination could only get a person so far, especially when they had been drugged with what was most likely some dangerous cocktail of mind-altering drugs. Jack just hoped that whatever had been given to him, it wasn’t deadly.

“So, any idea what they pumped you full of in there, hoss?” Jack asked as he grabbed the back of Mac's belt to steady him for the umpteenth time. It didn’t help that the ground was steep and uneven with roots and rocks - these terrorists had set up shop in an retired, abandoned safe house used by the FBI in the mid-80s, which just so happened to be halfway up a mountain.

Mac’s answer, when it finally came, was not encouraging. It took him at least a full minute to understand and process Jack’s question, and then another full minute to formulate his response. Jack had already given up on the question, thinking that Mac either hadn’t heard him or hadn’t understood, but then Mac slurred, “Truth ssserum.”

Jack stopped moving for a second, pulling Mac to a halt next to him. It was mid-afternoon, yet already it seemed to be growing dark underneath the thick canopy high overhead. He studied his friend closely, taking in even in the dimness the flushed cheeks, sweat-beaded brow, and hazy eyes with anxiety pooling in his gut. “They wanted information?”

Mac nodded, a jerky, uncoordinated motion, and then he muttered, “Pr’bly something like Thiopental Sodium or Amytal Sodium …”

“So what you’re saying is that you’re just really salty right now, huh, kid?” Jack joked weakly, not knowing for sure what either of the drugs mentioned were, but knowing they couldn’t be good. He gripped Mac’s waist tighter as he lost his footing again, this time while standing still, and took on more of his partner's weight. It was a credit to how bad Mac felt that he didn’t protest being supported. He reached out his other hand and felt Mac’s head. It wasn’t hot, but it was reaching a level of warmth that didn’t set well with his overwatch.

“I think you’re getting a fever,” Jack remarked, trying to keep the worry out of his tone.

“Side effect of l’rge doses of Am’tal Sodium,” Mac explained.

Fear clawed at Jack’s chest. “Just how much of this stuff did they give you?” he demanded, even as he started moving again, now half-carrying, half-dragging a mostly limp Mac by his side. The blonde’s feet were barely moving anymore, his toes more often than not scraping uselessly against the loose dirt.

“Too much,” Mac supplied, very unhelpfully.

“Okay…” Jack breathed out slowly in an attempt to calm himself. “Well, what other side effects should we be looking out for? If they used it as truth serum, are you gonna be revealing all your deepest darkest secrets to me? If so, I’m game for a good round of truth or dare.”

“D’sn’t work like that,” Mac informed him, and Jack couldn’t help but crack a smile at the piece of Old Mac trying to shine through. “Truth serums are act--”

“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there, Einstein,” Jack interrupted. “I don’t think you’re up for a science lesson right now. Can you tell me what other symptoms I need to keep an eye out for?” By his best estimate, based on the map he’d checked right before he’d set out with a drugged Mac in tow, exfil was still quite a ways away. If they kept moving at this pace, they should definitely make it in time, but if Mac kept deteriorating, things would get much more complicated.

“Uh… fever,” said Mac, and Jack just grunted, not reminding him that that was the one they’d just talked about. “...confusion… I think? Headache…. Hallucinations, sometimes… anxiety… spasms ‘n diz-zy-ness--” he overpronounced the word like he was having to try extra hard to say it correctly, “--sleepiness, insomnia, vomiting, diarrhea, constipation--”

“Okay, okay, I think I get the picture,” Jack interrupted Mac’s breathless spurting of grim side effect after another. “Geez, you’re starting to sound like a commercial for Prozac or somethin’. How can it give you sleepiness and insomnia? That’s about as opposite as you can get.”

“Mmmm... depends on the person,” Mac said several long seconds later, his words sounding as if they were being pulled with great difficulty from deep within. Still moving, but slower now, Jack glanced over and saw that Mac’s eyelids were beginning to flutter, and suddenly all of Mac’s weight was on Jack. He stumbled, barely keeping them from taking a roll down a steep incline.

“Hey, hey,” Jack gently shook his friend, who stirred with a groan, “this is no time to sleep.”

“Tired,” said Mac simply.

“I know, bud, and I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get your scrawny ass out of these woods before we miss exfil, and I don’t know if I can carry you down this mountain. I need you to help me, even if it’s just a little, okay?” He paused, then added, “And anyway, you probably shouldn’t sleep until medical’s got a chance to look at you. It’s safer that way.”

Mac didn’t say anything, but he did make a valiant attempt to straighten up and bear some of his own weight, so Jack pressed on.

Five minutes later, the nervousness set in. Despite being exhausted and barely coherent, Mac gazed around furtively, whipped his head around at every snap of a twig, mumbled something about his skin crawling and chest hurting and he thought they were being followed. At one point, Mac tried to break away from Jack as if he were the enemy, and would have rolled down the rest of the mountain if Jack’s reflexes hadn’t been so finely tuned.

A short pause and a panic attack later, they were back on their way, Mac still shifty and scared but thankfully more docile. He nodded off again.

“Hey,” Jack reminded him with another jostle, “no sleeping, remember? Let’s get down this mountain first.”

Ten minutes after that, they had to stop for Mac to empty his stomach of everything he’d eaten in the past five years. Jack rubbed his back and offered soothing words as his partner hacked and gasped and sobbed breathlessly against the strain to his body, but there was no time for coddling after the fact. They were running out of time.

Mac really wanted to sleep after the toll that had taken on his system, but Jack prodded him awake, trying to distract him with mindless babble. The ground was slowly beginning to level out, and he could hear the chop of the helicopter blades several hundred yards away in a clearing at the base of the mountain - they were going to make it in time, if only just!

At this point, Mac had become so uncoordinated and woozy that he might as well have been asleep, as Jack was supporting him entirely. But still, every time his head dropped onto Jack’s shoulder or fell forward, Jack prodded him back to consciousness, desperate to keep his boy genius awake and semi-coherent, because what if he fell asleep and didn’t wake up again?

And then they were in the clearing, and Mac was trying to sleep again, and Jack shook him as the exfil team surged forward to put the fading kid on a stretcher. Mac blearily opened his eyes at the movement.

“Hey, Mac,’ Jack said softly as he kept pace with the stretcher with long strides. “Stay awake for a little longer for me, will ya? Just until we get in the air and the medics can take a good look at you.”

Mac studied his face with a serious, but baffled expression. Finally, he gave a tiny, clumsy nod right before he was lifted into the chopper.

“‘Kay, Dad,” he murmured, and Jack froze where he stood, heart pounding wildly in his chest. Mac had said that hallucinations were one of the side effects of whatever drug he thought he’d been given. Was Mac hallucinating now? Was he seeing his dad instead of Jack?

Or - and this idea was one that Jack found himself approaching shyly, as if afraid to acknowledge it in case it turned out not to be true - could it be that Mac’s defenses were down? Could it be that he saw Jack as a father figure, that maybe Jack had been able to fill in, in some small way, the void that James MacGyver had left when he’d abandoned his son?

“Dalton! We need to move!”

Jack shook himself out of his thoughts, swiped the back of his arm across his eyes, and followed Mac into the chopper. Medics were already examining him, and even though Jack was informed that they wouldn’t be able to know for sure what they were dealing with until they were back at Phoenix and could run more extensive tests, he was reassured that sleep was probably the best thing for Mac, now that his vitals were being closely monitored.

Jack sat down next to the stretcher, and grabbed one of the kid’s hands. To his surprise, Mac was still awake, barely clinging on to consciousness.

“Hey, man. You’re gonna get help real soon, okay?”

“Is it… ‘kay to sleep now?” Mac asked, his words falling over one another like someone tumbling in slow motion down the stairs.

Jack smiled warmly and brushed a strand of sweaty hair off of his kid’s forehead. “Yeah, son,” he said, not even realizing what he’d called Mac in this quiet moment - it just felt right. “Now, it’s time to sleep.”

21 notes · View notes

frenchy-and-the-sea · 3 years

Text

TMA Fear Alignments: OC Edition

A million years ago, @rufinagertrude popped into my DMs and asked me what Magnus Archives patron my OCs would serve. Naturally, I spent like ALL DAY thinking about it and then never did anything with it. So now it's 8AM, I've got five hours of bad sleep in me and a bout of insomnia piloting my brain, and this is what it has decided to fixate on. So here's some very niche info about my very niche OCs.

---

Finn: The Desolation

- This one just makes sense to me. Finn is a vengeful little bastard who is already fond of fire, and would both take great pleasure in seeing his enemies in utter ruin, and fear greatly his own. Slap a little supernatural motivation on that, and he's a perfect little avatar of the The Lightless Flame.

Davin: The Web

- This one, on the other hand, came as a bit of a surprise to me. But Davin is quite a bit more calculated than his brother, and would 1) deeply dislike the notion of being controlled without his knowledge and 2) would relish being able to weild that over others. Plus, there's some real good imagry to be had re: his fascination with games of strategy, and being "the one to hold all of the cards," etc. I've never seen anyone take on the Web with themes of card games being played against the house, with the illusion of choice being treated as the illusion of possible success, and I think it's neat.

Iggy: The Vast

- Taking a bit of liberty here assigning a dread power to someone else's OC (@urdnotgrunt) but Iggy is a cartographer with a special interest in being out in the vast wide world, simultaneously swallowing and infinite. To be insignificant in a world that goes on without you feels like something that would catch hold of her like flame to flash paper.

Adelina: The Spiral

- All of the manipulation of the Spiral, of the "friend you can't count on, that might not actually be your friend at all," plays into a lot of Adelina's more unsavory talents. One of her first acts in the series is a bit of manipulation to secure a place in Alex's crew. Imagine if she didn't regret it. Plus, the loud colors and zany aesthetic of the Spiral? MWAH, so good for Ade.

Myrine: The Corruption

- The themes of community and hivemind in the Corruption avatars are too far in line with Myrine's deep commitment to people she cares for and her flagrant disregard for everyone else for me to pick another Fear for her. I get the sense that it'd manifest more as mold/fungi for her given the connection she has to water, but like. "To be fully consumed by what loves you," c'mon.

Jonathan: The Eye

- Pursuit of knowledge despite all boundaries and social grace is what gave Jon his name. He's relentlessly hungry for information, and also carries with him a deep sense of paranoia at being seen/having his secrets exposed. So. I didn't REALLY have a choice here LMAO.

Alex: The Lonely

- I struggled with this because I didn't want to jump right on the Peter Lukas "ship captain is the avatar of the Lonely" train, but.... well. Alex fears connection with others decidedly more than she craves it. Isolation is terrifying, and comfortable. She would 100% leave some dude stranded in a completely empty world and let him rot there because he insulted her (1) one time. (also, all of the imagery of deep set fog on the ocean, or a grey featureless beach is VERY good.)

Tahir: The Buried

- I went back and forth between this and the inevitability of the End for a while, but I think I'm happy with the Buried for Tahir. His entire character arc circles around the notion of stagnation, of being trapped and terrified of it.... but of finding it comfortable in its routine. That said, the traditional imagery of the Buried didn't really fit, so Tahir's got more of the "drowned sailor, pressed in on all sides by water, unable to escape" version. Plus, I like to imagine that in this horrible AU, it still lets Alex and Tahir work together. Can't help a manifestation of fear take over the world together if your aesthetics don't match!

#oc crap #seven cities #hush frenchy #this is fun its like doing oc zodiac but evil #i also thought of what my d&d ladies would be but I'll keep that to myself #this is already too niche a post LMAO #tma #or at least adjacent to it

8 notes · View notes

dracosearlgreytea · 4 years

Text

indelicate marks (6)

indelicate marks: chapter six - the common room

A/N: part one of celebrating dracos birthday! sorry this one is only short but ill be back in a little with the next chapter - ivy

warnings: language, could be potentially offensive to hufflepuffs (sorry not sorry)

lovely tags: @h-annahayy @okaydraco @fanficflaneuse @thatoneasrastan

indelicate marks index

Sleeping was becoming difficult again. You had been struggling to sleep for a while - ever since you had met your parents for the first time, in fact. It fluctuated, mostly, between you sleeping too much, or too little, and since Bellatrix... well, it got even worse. You thought you had managed to shake off most of the insomnia, finally, by the first couple weeks of being back at Hogwarts, exhausted from classes and work. Since your first Occlumency lesson with Draco, however, it had crept back up on you. Tossing and turning in your bed was ironically tiring, your mind too empty and welcoming bad memories you really did not want to remember at all. And so, you had taken to sitting in the common room - once you were sure everyone else had gone to their dorms - to curl up with a book by the fire. Tonight had been no different. It was around 3am. The fire was still blazing, but you had given up reading a while ago, head too messy to focus on the words on the page. What you hadn't expected, however, was the familiar rumble of the shifting wall that hid the common room to pull you from your thoughts. Eyes fixed on the passageway, you froze as someone strode in, gaze landing on you immediately. Of course it was Draco Malfoy. You couldn't shake the anger Draco had left you with for a while. His words had played on repeat in your mind, keeping that rage simmering in your chest. So much, in fact, that you had contemplated if you would even bother turning up to the next session. But, after a few days, the anger melted away. Draco - annoyingly - had a point. It didn't make sense, you supposed, to anyone looking from the outside in. In fact, it occurred to you that it didn't really make sense to you, either. Not really. You had just been so desperate to prove yourself to be something, anything, other than what you had been labelled as. And so, despite everything, you had jumped to the aid of those who had scorned you your whole life. Not that you blamed Hermione or her friends for what happened to you, or you disliked Muggleborns, but you equally came to understand what Draco was saying. After his form of upbringing especially, you could see why he wouldn't understand. Draco paused, for a second. There was a silence, stretched between you, on the sofa, and where he stood, wand hanging from his hand. Words came to mind, but they lodged in your throat, until he finally turned and headed towards the boys dorms, expression passive, as though he'd never seen you in the first place. "Draco, wait." You managed to call, jumping to your feet. He hesitated, before turning and looking at you with an arched brow. "I didn't realise we were on a first name basis." His tone dead, you rolled your eyes. "Malfoy, then." You paused. "Wait, do you even know my name?" He scoffed, shaking his head, shifting to walk away again. "Malfoy," You urged, taking a few steps forward. "What?" He hissed, spinning round to fix you with a glare. Scanning his expression, you had to admit, he looked exhausted, the dark rings around his eyes giving him a sunken look. "Can we talk?" Draco narrowed his gaze, scowling. "I'm not going to tell you anything, before you start asking questions." "I wasn't, actually." You retorted, crossing your arms. "If it's got anything to do with... what I already know - well, I suppose it's best I don't know more." "Glad you got the message." He muttered, visibly relaxing, but his gaze remained guarded. A small silence settled between you as you debated your next words, Draco watching you, expectant. "I've been thinking a lot," You started, avoiding his eyes. "About what you said." "I was trying to piss you off." Draco said, as though it were obvious. "To test your Occlumency." "Right." You uttered, suddenly feeling awkward under the pressure of his gaze. Of course, you're taking it too bloody personally, you dimwit. "Well, I guess I understand where you were coming from-" "You what?" "I mean, don't get me wrong, it did piss me off-" "You're not making any bloody sense." Draco interjected, features tensing, confusion etched into his expression. "I'm trying to say we can forget about it." You winced inwardly at your tone, words rushed. "And I'm sorry I nearly... burnt you." "Burnt me?" Draco raised his eyebrows dramatically. "I'd be dead if that hit me." "I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be dead." You scoffed, falling silent again, cheeks hot. He stared at you for a minute, searching your face - making you feel very uncomfortable, as though he were judging you. "We aren't friends, you know." He said. Faltering, you frowned at him, unsure about the sudden change in topic. "I'm aware." "Then why are you acting like a Hufflepuff?" "I am not acting like a Hufflepuff." You shot him a disgusted glare, his eyes glittering in amusement at your offence. "Just because we aren't friends doesn't mean we can't be civil, Malfoy. We're not exactly enemies." Draco took a moment to reply, staring at you, unreadable. "I'm pretty sure what I am makes us enemies," He spoke slowly - careful. Not unsympathetic, as though he were trying not to trigger another argument. "You didn't choose... that." You said, cautious. Draco swallowed, eyes darting away from you for a second. "And I don't hate you. When you're not giving me shit about my life, that is." "I was testing your Occlumency." He repeated, though you noted the slight bitterness in his tone. It was most likely the closest to an apology you were going to get. Your lips quirked upward into a faint smile, glimpsing at him in understanding. "I know." Draco's gaze lingered on you a moment longer, before he straightened, raising an eyebrow at you. "Can I leave now or are you going to chase me again?" He drawled, his usual confidence returning from his momentary uncertainty. Shaking your head, you glanced away from him, only to look back. "Try actually sleeping tonight. You look awful." Raising your eyebrows, your voice was lilted, teasing. You knew, though, that it held a sincere undertone that Draco seemed not to notice - or, at least, chose to ignore. "Not friends, remember?" He growled, turning and sauntering away towards the boys dorms. And though you despised yourself for it, you couldn't help but smile.

#draco x you #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy angst #harry potter fanfiction #slow burn

81 notes · View notes

echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years

Text

Book Four: War (Gladiolus x Reader) Chapter Thirteen

A/n: This chapter is just a filler one and takes place mainly on the boat. I tried to cut down on the dialogue, but there's still tons of it in this chapter. Feel free to skip it! Love you all!!! ••••••••••••••••••••

A couple days later, the royal retinue returned to Cape Caem. They'd taken on a handful of hunts while they were in Lestallum in order to get some more gil before heading to Altissia.

Arriving back at Cape Caem, the group decided to rest for the remainder of the day and depart for Altissia in the morning. Gladio ate the lunch Iris offered him and his friends before heading upstairs to one of the vacant rooms. Recently, he'd been needing more time to himself due to what transpired in the nightmare. Ever since the moment he was about to kiss (Y/n) two days ago in the nightmare, it hadn't returned and his sleep was peaceful.

Every now and then, Gladio would check his pocket to make sure he still had the summoning orb. Even more often, he would try to summon (Y/n). Unfortunately, she heeded none of his calls, but that didn't stop him from trying. He wanted to apologize for his careless question and reestablish the bond he had with her.

Gladio eyes the summoning orb in his palm just as the door to the room opened. Iris entered and noticed what her brother's attention was fixed on. "Hey, Gladdy. Noctis told me (Y/n) wasn't with you guys anymore. What happened?"

"I wasn't thinking and opened my big mouth," he confessed. "I wanted to explain, but she stormed off before I could. Haven't seen her since."

"I know (Y/n) has a temper, but she's usually good about listening to others. What you said must've really made her mad."

"I pretty much deserve a punch to the face for what I said."

Iris sighed, "Well, at least you're honest. I'd gladly punch you in the face for (Y/n)'s sake. You really don't think before you say some things, Gladdy. And now, you've hurt someone because of it."

"I know..." Gladio mumbled sorrowfully. "I want to make this right, but (Y/n)'s ignoring me."

She patted him on the shoulder. "Give her some time. I'm sure she'll come back."

"Hope you're right about that, Iris."

"You know I am!" She smiled confidently.

Gladio followed his sister out of the room and walked down the stairs. He walked out of the house and froze when he saw Ignis chatting with an ivory-haired girl. He sauntered over, wondering who the mysterious girl was.

Hearing his footsteps, the girl spun around and offered him a smile. "Ah, you must be Gladio. A pleasure to meet you."

The shield glanced between the two and noticed how polite the girl was when she spoke. He grinned, crossing his arms. "Didn't know there was a female version of Iggy out there."

"Gladio," Ignis chided.

"It's all right, Ignis," the violet-eyed girl said. "I am Pestilence. War asked me to check in with your companions when they went to the Vesperpool while you sought to fight against Gilgamesh."

Hearing she was one of the Four Horsemen, Gladio asked about the redhead. "Think you could send (Y/n) my way?"

"She told me what happened between the two of you," Pestilence stated. "However, I believe she needs more time to clear her head. She will come when you call once she's settled the turmoil in her heart."

"Damn..." Gladio scratched the back of his head. "I fucked up royally."

"Time is what she needs most of now, but please do not give up on her. Ever since joining your group, she has changed for the better. She is more lively and joyful."

"Trust me, I won't give up on her."

Pestilence nodded. "Thank you for understanding, Gladio." She them clapped her hands together. "Now then, I should be leaving. I've still my own target to hunt. I wish you all well in Altissia."

"We do appreciate your assistance," Ignis said.

"I'm glad I could be of service. Farewell."

Gladio and Ignis watched the girl as she vanished in a puff of smoke before heading back to the house to recuperate from their many hunts for the rest of the day.

<------------<<<<<

Once morning rolled around, Noctis, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis were ready to depart for Altissia. They ride the elevator in the lighthouse down to a basement area in a seaside cave. They exited the elevator and made their way to the hidden harbor where the boat waited for them.

In the makeshift living room stood Talcott, Iris, Cid and Cor. The little boy shouted excitedly as he addressed Noctis. "Look, Prince Noctis! Even the marshal came to say goodbye!"

When Noctis and his companions reach the bottom of the stairs, Cor spoke up. "Something I gotta get off my chest."

"What's that?" The raven-haired boy questioned.

A somewhat melancholic expression washed over the marshal's face. "I'm sorry. Sorry I wasn't there for your father. I swore an oath to protect the king, but I wasn't strong enough to uphold it."

"Ain't nothin' nobody could've done to stop what happened," Cid interjected himself into the conversation.

"Yeah, I realize that," Noctis said.

"But you need to realize just what you mean to the boys by your side."

He nodded. "I do."

Cid glanced towards Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis. "Even if they can't solve your problems, you can't hide what's goin' on from 'em. It hurts like hell. Remember-those ain't your bodyguards, they're your brothers. Trust in 'em. Always."

Noctis looked towards his closest friends in silence, clinging to what Cid said. He kept those words in mind as he, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis boarded the boat. Cid followed shortly after, heading towards the helm and starting the engine. Gradually, the sea vessel pulls away from the dock.

From the dock, Talcott and Iris watch the boat leave. The young boy suddenly shouts out to Noctis. "Hey! Your Majesty!"

Noctis walks toward the railing of the boat and met Talcott's gaze. "What's up?"

"Please come back soon! We need our king!"

Noctis nodded with a faint smile. "Yeah. Count on it."

Talcott and Iris wave goodbye and Noctis waves back.

The boat leaves Cape Caem and soon entered open waters. The gleaming water of the vast ocean greeted them, the sun's warm rays bouncing off the surface. Prompto, who was sitting on the cushy bench, sighed in content as the wind blew through his blonde locks. "Y'know, I've always wanted to go sailing like this."

"Not many opportunities living in Insomnia," Gladio stated.

"Out here, it's just us and the horizon! It's amazing-it's life changing!"

"We've quite a ways to go until we reach Altissia, so keep gushing to your heart's content," Ignis said.

Prompto leaned back against the bench. "When we step off the boat, we'll be in a foreign country."

"The anticipation alone is a foreign sensation."

"And to think this is where we were headed to begin with," Gladio chimed in.

"We've been through a lot," Noctis stated.

"And there's still more to come," the advisor added.

"So next on the docket is Leviathan," the blonde said.

Gladio turned his gaze out towards the sea, remembering the image of Leviathan from the nightmare. "A giant serpent, huh?"

"How'd you know that?" Noctis asked.

Realizing his mistake, the shield turned around and tried to keep from explaining the nightmare. "Have you already forgotten? (Y/n) was a queen who was once in the same position as you. She might've mentioned a thing or two about Leviathan."

"Oh, right..." Prompto muttered. He looked away from the brute with a knowing expression. "Too bad we can't ask for her help because a certain someone chased her off..."

The shield glowered at him. "I didn't chase her off."

"Hey, you said something that made her mad," Noctis said. "So, you kinda did chase her off."

Seeing no point in arguing, Gladio crossed his arms. "Even if she was here, you'd still have to face Leviathan on your own."

"She could've given me a few pointers."

The conversation continued on as Prompto changed the subject from (Y/n) to Lady Lunafreya. Noctis and Ignis also chatted of the Oracle while Gladio casted his gaze back out across the sea. When hearing the subject of their conversation move to the Ring of Lucii and how Lunafreya got her hands on it, he wondered how War was able to control the Crystal of Vanaheim. Unlike her kingdom, Lucis used the ring to harness the Crystal's power. Now he had even more questions he wanted to ask her.

"The ring is important, and so is Leviathan-but Luna comes first," Noctis said.

"You know, I was thinking back to our encounter with Ravus," Ignis confessed.

"Hmm?" The raven-haired boy hummed.

"Do you recall an apparatus in place of his arm?" The strategist asked.

It was then Gladio rejoined the conversation. "Yeah, I remember."

"Seems he lost his old one in the invasion. But in its place, he seems to have acquired new power."

"Power?" Noctis parroted.

"That would help explain how a son of Tenebrae suddenly came to command Niflheim's army," Gladio said.

"Now that you mention it, his strength did seems sorta...supernatural. I just chalked it up to the Oracle lineage," Prompto stated.

"His ancestry may be part of it, but that alone wouldn't account for his freakish strength."

Noctis' eyes narrowed as he mumbled, "I wonder what could've happened to him?"

"There's a disturbing rumor about. Lord Ravus has taken to brandishing His Majesty's sword," Ignis informed the group.

"My dad's?"

"And what's the big idea behind that?" Gladio inquired with a faint growl.

"That his power's the same as the power of kings?" Prompto wondered.

"I cannot say for sure, but I have my doubts. Ravus wears the sword, yet does not wield it," the strategist answered.

"For all his newfound powers, he's still the chancellor's lapdog...holding on to the enemy king's sword like some badge of honor," Gladio spat in disdain.

"It might help if we knew what he was after." Prompto's eyes widen as he recalls what (Y/n) told them after encountering Ravus at Aracheole Stronghold. "Hey, didn't (Y/n) say something about the empire wanting to control the monsters from the Inner Sanctum?"

"Yeah. What about it?" Noctis asked.

"Do you think the two are connected? Y'know, the sword and the monsters."

"It's difficult to say," Ignis stated.

"We probably would know more if (Y/n) were here," the blonde sighed.

"Seriously," Noctis groaned.

Gladio glared at the two younger boys. "You two aren't gonna let this go, are you?"

"Nope."

"Never," Prompto cackled.

Gladio rolled his eyes, tuning out the conversation once again. He pulled out the Vanaheim coin from his pocket and admired as the crystal reflected the sun. Even the black symbol engraved on the coin was shiny. Unbeknownst to the shield, the others ceased talking when seeing what was in his hand.

Noctis was the first to ask. "What's that?"

"A coin from Vanaheim. (Y/n) said it was the currency her kingdom used." Gladio lifted his gaze from the coin and tossed it towards him.

Noctis caught the coin and examined it closely. "Damn, this is what they used to pay for things?"

Prompto peered down at the coin with sparkling eyes. "It's so pretty!"

"Where did you get this?" Ignis pried.

"Gilgamesh had it. Apparently, some of (Y/n)'s ancestors sought him out to test their own skills," Gladio explained. "He also said the queen and this coin are all that remains of Vanaheim."

"Well that's...sad," Noctis muttered.

"But what about the second Crystal?" Prompto asked. "It's gotta be in one piece if (Y/n)'s still able to use its power, right?"

"If you wanna try and find it by swimming to the deepest parts of the ocean, be my guest, Blondie. But I don't think you'll make it far," Gladio said. "Y'know, with the water pressure and lack of sunlight."

"Although the Crystal of Vanaheim is still actively being used by (Y/n), it is out of reach. No one could possibly reach the depths and claim it," Ignis claimed.

Noctis gave the coin back to Gladio and all went silent for a few minutes until Prompto began to whine. "Are we there yet?"

Gladio arched a brow in bewilderment. "Didn't you just say you always wanted to go sailing?"

"Yeah, but all this ocean gets kinda bland after a while."

"Last time I checked it was "amazing" and "life-changing.""

Eventually, Cid spoke up after being silent since they left Cape Caem. He kept his eyes focused on the ocean ahead while sparking up a conversation with Noctis. "So, soon you'll have yer old man's ring back."

Noctis nodded. "Yeah. When we arrive in Altissia."

"Good thing. To him, it was his heritage."

"Is that what my dad said?"

"Carrying a royal line ain't a task to be taken lightly. For a small thing, that ring can sure weigh heavy. After he became king, I only ever saw his face in the paper."

"Wait-weren't you at the coronation?" Gladio asked.

Cid shook his head. "Nah, I was long gone from the city."

"Must've been invited at least," the raven-haired boy commented.

"Had a fallin' out o' sorts with your old man. Right at the end of the trip."

Prompto blinked in shock. "You did?"

"I was given to understand you stayed in touch," Ignis said.

"We buried the hatchet years later, but never talked face to face again. Shoulda paid a visit while I had the chance. Well, no use dwellin' on it now. Got the Regalia in the hold, but y'all gonna stay in Altissia for a good while, right?" Cid inquired.

"Yes, we believe so," the strategist replied.

"In that case, I'll tune her up for y'all. Not that I'll have much to do, though, what with Cindy lookin' after the old girl."

"If you say she's good, she must be great," Prompto stated.

"She was never afraid o' hard work. Heaven knows she had a hard childhood."

"A hard childhood"?" The marksman reiterated.

"He means her parents," Gladio clarified.

"Lost 'em both when she was little. Was big enough to understand, though...an' to hurt. But ya wouldn't guess that, seein' her now," Cid explained.

"Not at all. She's always so cheerful," Prompto said.

"Well, that oughta tell ya how far she's come."

Another silence befell the group. Gladio, wishing to slay the tranquility, spoke to Cid. "Man, you must have seen your fair share of Altissia by now."

"Yeah... Only done been the once. Stayed a good while, though," the old man stated.

Prompto was curious about the city and asked, "What's it like?"

"Big ol' city."

Noctis was slightly amused by his response. ""Big." Okay."

"Well, it ain't the Crown City."

""Different." Got it."

"You'll see for yourself: foreign lands seldom lend themselves to trite explanations," Ignis said.

"Change o' scenery oughta do you good," Cid claimed.

Gladio crosses his arms with a huff. "Well, I'm all talked out. Can't be far to Altissia now, right?"

"We'll be there in no time. Nice having the wind at our backs."

"Lodgings are our first order of business," Ignis stated matter-of-factly.

"All work and no play..." Prompto began.

"Makes Ignis a dull boy," Noctis finished.

Gladio glanced between the two younger boys. "Someone has to babysit you two."

"And you're welcome to sleep in the wild," the advisor added.

"Ain't no hotel, but I know a fella has a place," Cid spoke up. "Weskham-ran with Reggie and me way back when."

Prompto's curiosity blossomed. "Oh, was he the other one in that photo at the garage?"

"Yep. Runs himself a diner or café or somethin'. Go and see for yourselves."

"Sure," Noctis replied.

"Does the place have a name?" Gladio pondered.

Cid thought for a few seconds before a few names came to mind. ""Magee"? Or "Magoo"? Or-"Maagho," that's the one."

"Nice," the raven-haired boy commented.

"You can count on ol' Wes. He'll chew your ears off."

Suddenly, the radio turns on as the boat enters the waterway leading into Altissia. "The government issued a statement promising that the reasons behind awakening the Hydraean would be clarified in the ceremonial address. Delivering the address will be Lady Lunafreya, who was previously reported dead. This will mark her first public appearance since the violence that befell the signing ceremony."

Prompto had been listening to the broadcast. "Lady Lunafreya's gonna give a speech?"

"Sounds like it," Gladio said.

"Lord knows-this world could use some wisdom," Cid sighed.

"Won't be much longer now, Noct," Ignis stated.

Noctis nodded with a small smile. "Yeah."

The boat pulls up to a guard who stands along the waterway. Cid shows him the entry permit for the vessel and the guard approved. He then drives the boat on ahead and heads towards the dock. There, he carefully docks the boat and everyone hops off. They make their way toward the city, but were stopped when arriving at a customer queue. Noctis walks up to where some gatekeepers await and was stopped by one. "Sir! What is the purpose of your visit?"

Noctis was taken aback. "Purpose? Uh..."

"They're with me," a cheerful voice proclaimed.

Prompto recognizes the voice immediately and beamed happily. "You're here!"

The gatekeeper let them through while Cid returned to the boat. Famine smiled at the marksman once they entered the city. "War told us you'd be arriving in Altissia soon. Knowing what the empire is planning, we put our hunts aside to help you."

"Uh, "us"?" Noctis parroted. "Does that mean..."

She nodded. "Death, Pestilence, and War are also in the city."

"You four sure are everywhere," Gladio commented.

"Well, nice to know we won't be alone," Noctis said.

"I'm quite familiar with Altissia," Famine said. "What's your first course of action?"

"To secure lodging," Ignis answered.

"Then let's head to the Leville first."

The royal retinue followed the Horseman through the bustling streets of Altissia. It was a short walk to the hotel and Ignis was able to secure a room for them. Once they settled in their room, they headed to the lobby where Famine was patiently waiting for them. Prompto was the fastest out of the group to make his way over to the emerald-eyed girl.

Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis saw him ask her something, but they weren't exactly sure what until they pried. "What're you two plannin'?" The shield questioned.

"I-I was simply asking her if she could give a me a tour of Altissia later," Prompto responded with a faint blush.

"Which I happily agreed to. But for now, where do you all need to go next?" Famine inquired.

"You familiar with a place called Maagho?" Noctis responded with his own question.

"Yep! Follow me!"

#ffxv #ffxv x reader #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #gladiolus amicitia #gladiolus x reader #gladio x reader

4 notes · View notes

angelkitty54 · 4 years

Text

Someone on AO3 requested it, so here’s part the next of This AU. I have so many ideas for this AU... this ended up being really long...

Also here’s some songs that make me think of this AU: “Bad Idea” and “You Matter to Me” from the Waitress musical.

...

So, there’s no scourge or prophecy in this AU but the war with Nifflheim is still happening. The Oracle is a religious figure, and much beloved by the people, hence why the Empire originally wanted to obtain control over Tenebrae. But lately the Emperor is feeling threatened by Lunafreya.

She’s is beloved by the masses, and though her brother has been indoctrinated, and she lacks any real power, it’s clear she still has a mind of her own. So it’s decided that Luna ought to be replaced with a younger cousin, who has also been indoctrinated and is far easier to manipulate.

It doesn’t matter to them that this girl doesn’t possess the powers of the Oracle. The powers that be in Nifflheim are not religious. They couldn’t care less about the magic’s of the Oracle line. If nothing else, they’ll just have Ravus (who is a beta btw) marry and produce a kid at some point.

But first, Luna must disappear. It will be a tragic accident, or perhaps even a plot by the enemy. Either way she has to go.

And yet, for all that Ravus has been thoroughly brainwashed by the Empire, he still loves his sister above all else. He’s not just going to stand by and do nothing while Luna’s life is in danger.

So, swallowing his pride and hatred for the Lucian King, Ravus secretly makes a deal. Luna is spirited away to Insomnia seeking political asylum. To her it feels a little like abandoning her duties and her people, but (as it’s been since the Niffs invaded years ago) she has little say in the matter.

Life is Terrible for omegas in Insomnia, and in Nifflheim it’s just as bad. The only difference being that the Niffs are open about their cruelty, whereas Lucians like to sugar coat it. Luna can’t tell which is worse.

Luna knows exactly what would have happened to her had she presented as anything other than an alpha. And like Noctis, her status and birthright would not have been enough to save her. But she never would have thought such a thing would have happened to him.

Her magic and status as Oracle is the one thing that Nifflheim couldn’t take form her. It strikes a cord in her, seeing Noctis stripped of his own magic and status as prince. And Luna, well, she knows better than anyone what it’s like to be a prisoner in your own home...

The first time she met Noctis he was a shy, damaged child in a wheelchair. The second time he is a boy still not yet a man, yet he is pregnant and far more damaged, for more broken, than the child she met ten years ago.

She just can’t understand how this could have happened.

It’s typical alpha behavior to offer food to omegas (to show they are a good provider, someone who can put food on the table), but Noctis won’t eat anything Ignis or Gladio give him.

After everything they’ve done to him, all of Noct’s instincts scream that Ignis and Gladio are unsafe alphas. He physically cannot eat the food they provide, which means he’s not eating period. They’ve started force feeding him, which only causes him more distress and he ends up throwing it all back up again.

Furthermore, Noctis hasn’t been sleeping. How can he when he sandwiched between two unsafe alphas (his captors, his rapists) at night? There isn’t a single place safe from them in his home. He’s trapped in an unsafe home with two aggressive, untrustworthy, dangerous alphas. Sleep is impossible when he’s on high alert at all times.

The pregnancy is hard on his body too. He doesn’t want this baby. It’s little more than a lump of cells, not even a person yet, and he already despises it. To Noct, it’s nothing more than a parasite, slowing draining his life away.

“It’s just hormones.” The so-called experts say. “Everything will be fine once the baby is here.” They diagnose him with prenatal depression, and largely brush it off as being “normal” for omegas experiencing their first pregnancy.

Nevermind that Noctis is miserable, that he’s wasting away. That he has been suffering ever since he presented.

And it’s ironic, but before Noct presented, Ignis and Gladio had actually been good alphas. Ignis made Noct feel cared for, while Gladio made him feel safe. They had a healthy dynamic before. If they just stayed the way they were, then Noct would have felt safe with them, might have even accepted them as his alphas. But they didn’t.

The fact of the matter remains, Noctis is dying, and nothing seems to help (naturally, given their version of “helping” is just to be more abusive and controlling).

As an unmated alpha, Luna would normally never be allowed near Noctis, but as it’s the Oracle’s duty to offer guidance and healing, well...

Luna knows how to navigate a conversation peacefully while holding an unpopular opinion. She knows how to probe and question, without rocking the boat. She’s had a lot of practice after all, though she never thought it’d be like this with the likes of Regis and Noct’s friends...

She’s able to gain access to Noctis, alone, without guards or his alphas hovering threateningly over their shoulders. She’s the Oracle, and an old friend. Who is more trustworthy than her?

The fact that Noctis seems so much better after speaking to her just once helps her case quite a bit too.

Luna is the only person who speaks to Noct looking him in the eye. She doesn’t talk over him, or at him, or to his alphas instead of him. She doesn’t touch him without permission. She doesn’t crowd him and keeps a comfortable distance. She’s the only person who truly sees him; sees whats happening to him and understands it’s wrong.

Luna is a good, safe alpha. More than that, she’s still his friend. Where everyone else abandoned him, Luna did not. Even if it’s only for a few hours every other day, she provides a safe haven.

She tries to undo whatever Regis did to seal Noct’s magic, but is unsuccessful, and Regis isn’t sharing what he knows either. Every time she brings it up, he manages to brush the topis aside. Sometimes he even makes his actions sound quite logical.

But Luna knows it’s not right. One look at Noctis is all it takes to realise the truth. It seems that no one else is willing to truly see him though...

Noctis has been her closest friend and confidant over the years, even when they were apart. She wants so badly to help him, but it seems she’s just as powerless here beside him, as she was when they were separated...

As Noct’s pregnancy progresses, his mood swings violently from one end to the other. With Luna he is almost happy, hopeful even. But at other times he is utterly inconsolable. All the while, the pair grow closer and closer.

They don’t mean to fall into bed together. It just sort of happened. They know what they’re doing is a terrible idea, dangerous even, but it’s difficult deny their feelings. Noct has always provided an escape for Luna, and visa versa, and this is just one more way of escaping from their unhappy lives.

For Luna, she has been trapped in a cage for so long, even now, she’s simply traded her old cage for a somewhat nicer one. For Noct, well if he had no choice but to belong to someone, he’d rather belong to Luna. They both want something that’s entirely theirs.

Still, is dangerous and if they get caught, well, never seeing the other again will probably be the least of their worries...

Noct’s 18th birthday has come and gone. In the past he would have faced it with pride and trepidation for the future for it had meant he was one step closer to being king. Now though, well, there’s very little for him to look forward to...

And while others celebrate, dread begins to fill his entire being as his due date is fast approaching...

TBC...

#ffxv #lunoct #noctis lucis caelum #lunafreya nox fleuret #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #alpha beta omega #abo dynamics #angst #omegaverse #this got long again

6 notes · View notes

umbralich · 5 years

Text

Never ending survey

RULES: Repost, do not reblog. Tag 10 blogs!

Tagged by: @lareine-kira and @paleshadeofrose

Tagging: @hangedemperor , @istolin , @maximiloix , @trahja-tia , @eorzeasfrozenknight , @charm-in-spades , @thorcatte , @haila-wetyios , @a-sharlayan-abroad

---

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Varg Blacksoul, formerly Timur Oronir NICKNAME: Varg-Varg (given by Lareine), Stiffy and Grumpy (given by Silke) AGE: 54 BIRTHDAY: 9th sun of the 1st astral moon ETHNIC GROUP: Xaela Au Ra NATIONALITY: Othard, Ishgard LANGUAGE/S: Common, xaelic, ishgardian SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single and not looking for company. HOME TOWN / AREA: Dawn Throne, Azim Steppe CURRENT HOME: Pillars, Ishgard PROFESSION: Paladin, medic/healer at Ishgard’s service.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Long and silvery grey. EYES: Black with white limbal rings, small irises. FACE: Angular features, long nose, high cheekbones. LIPS: Narrow, often cracked, slightly darker than his usual skin color. COMPLEXION: Grayish purple BLEMISHES: Dark circles SCARS: Lots of scars which he keeps hidden at all times. Two thick, long ones are visible and almost go across his right eye. TATTOOS: No tattoos. HEIGHT: 210cm WEIGHT: Slightly underweight BUILD: Slender but masculine, somewhat toned. FEATURES: Black markings around eyes, and naturally thick, black claws. ALLERGIES: None USUAL HAIR STYLE: At work or formal meetings it’s combed back either completely or with some locks on his temples left loose. In more casual situations he mostly just lets it be. USUAL FACE LOOK: Calm, focused, narrowed eyes. USUAL CLOTHING: Full, dignified heavy armor or parts of it combined with a long coat, formal robes, jodhpurs, vests, blouses and high-heeled boots.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Imprisonment, being held or tied down, physical pain, betrayal. ASPIRATION/S: To be successful, self-sufficient and powerful until the end, to bring as many as possible wrongdoers to justice, to find an heir, and catch people still on the loose who managed to escape his revenge long ago.

POSITIVE TRAITS: He keeps his word, doesn’t leave things unfinished, is a good motivator for slackers, aims for high-quality results in everything, is reasonable and logical.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Insensible towards most of people, logic always comes before his own or other people’s feelings, very straightforward, capable of cruelty if necessary.

TEMPERAMENT: Calm SOUL TYPE/S: Thinker ANIMALS: Gray wolf

VICE HABIT/S: Smoking. He hates it, but it’s the least harmful thing that calms his nerves down, and he’s addicted. He tries to limit it though, and use it only in worst occasions, since he doesn’t want the side effects affecting his health or work. If things get especially grim, he also has full stashes of potent liquor and intravenous sedatives.

FAITH: Science usually comes first, but he’s also spiritual in some way. It’s one of those topics he doesn’t discuss with anyone. Some of his duties include working as a cleric, so it may have something to do with Halone. Or then it doesn’t, and it’s just another job.

GHOSTS?: Has seen them with his own eyes so can’t deny their existence. AFTERLIFE?: He hopes it exists, for reasons. REINCARNATION?: It’s a possibility.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Generally neutral, but on demand would choose the side of underdogs: ignoble, the poor and the sick, minors etc. Wouldn’t show his alignment publicly if it was a threat to himself. Would also pretend to be supporting the oppressor, only trying to sabotage their work at every opportunity. Even I’m not sure would he actually die for anyone else or some common cause. He has fled once to save his own hide and he could do it again. Knows main points of what’s going on and where around the world for the sake of common knowledge, but is only interested in topics that concern himself. Has been a target for racists since arriving to Ishgard as a teenager, so he despises them from the bottom of his heart.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Learned

FAMILY.

FATHER : Not relevant MOTHER : Not relevant SIBLINGS : None that he knows of EXTENDED FAMILY: Iris Ymir (patient and protege) and Arsene Dreadeois (butler)

NAME MEANING/S:

Timur is a Turkic and Mongolic name which literally means iron. In Indonesian, timur translates to east and symbolizes hope by the rising sun.

All members of the Oronir tribe believe themselves to be direct descendants of Azim, the tribe's god of the sun.

Varg is wolf in swedish. Varg was also originally a nickname given by his friends at the Steppe. It was the only thing he kept after starting his new life in Ishgard and severing his ties with his homeland.

Blacksoul was given by his comrades in the army for being so ruthless towards enemies - both the ones on the battlefield and the ones captured.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: None

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Science, mythology, swordplay, alchemy, etc. Everything that has something to do with his work or hobbies. DEITY: Halone seems to share most of his values. HOLIDAY: Doesn’t celebrate any. MONTH: September and October. There isn’t many little things in life he gets pleasure from, but fall colors is one of them. SEASON: Fall and winter. PLACE: His estate, cathedrals, libraries and forges. WEATHER: Thick fog, rain and sunshine at the same time. SOUND/S: Fire, rain and musical instruments when someone who actually knows what they’re doing plays them. SCENT/S: Herbs, iron, parchment. TASTE/S: Whisky, tea, whatever Arsene makes. FEEL/S: Clean clothes, heat radiating from a fireplace. ANIMAL/S: Doesn’t like animals except for his chocobo, Mori. NUMBER: Doesn’t care about numbers. COLORS: White, black, blood red, gold, silver.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Accuracy of a chirurgeon, skillful with swords, managing to define a goal fast in any kind of surprising situation and being very patient and stubborn at achieving it. BAD AT: Admitting he has weaknesses, comforting people, having fun, small talk, relaxing. HOBBIES: Reading, studying, weapon maintenance, alchemy. TROPES: Antihero, tragic hero and mad scientist. Definitely could also be a villain. Depends on whom you ask.

QUOTES:

“Since you seem to be so worried of my… customers, perhaps I should take you along the next time I interrogate them. You would see with your own eyes what kind of delicate, exquisite and misunderstood individuals they are, when they spit on you, mock their victims and brag about the amount of people they have raped or murdered.”

“Today it happens. Make sure she is out of here before I return tonight. I am no longer even sure which one of them is the worse one.”

“It was a mere procedure. If procedures were considered intimate, I would be close friends with half of Ishgard by now.”

“Do tell me... If you work as much as you claim, how come you are always broke when we meet?”

“Very well. Play something for me. Let us see are you a man of your word.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?

A1 : He’s been busy sticking his spoon into so many soups during his life that you could probably make a trilogy of his fooleries feats. The first part would tell about his early life in Azim Steppe and how he was forced to leave from there, the second part about how he found his soulmate and adapted to his new life in Ishgard, and how it all eventually ended up into a shitstorm, and the third one would be the current storyline. No clue about the name, though. The Soulforge would be perfect but too bad it’s taken.

Q2 : What would their soundtrack/score sound like?

A2 : Bloodborne, Dark Souls and Amnesia the Dark Descent OSTs are absolutely the closest ones you could get to Varg. Orchestral, choir, bowed string instruments, both epic and monstrous. Even if there were more peaceful pieces here and there, while listening to them you’d still have that same feeling of dread you used to have while playing the original Resident Evil and Silent Hill games and finding a safe room: you just barely escaped death but can’t stay in the safe haven forever.

Q3 : Why did you start writing this character?

A3 : He’s quite different compared to my Forsaken shadow priestess in WoW, whom I used to RP for... two or three years? Long story short: I wanted something else for a change. I also used to have an old Forsaken death knight, who was a lot more similar to Varg, but he was more evil. He existed pretty much only for occasions when someone needed a true villain for some plot. He was funny however and I always thought it was a pity I didn’t get chances to RP him more often.

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?

A4 : He’s a mixture of four different OCs of mine, with a bit of his original spice ofc. One of them came into being in, uh, somewhat obscure conditions. Kept seeing him in my dreams when I was a kid, and he became one of my imaginary friends I used to have back then. And not just one of the many, but the closest one. Also generally in entertainment I couldn’t care less about Lukes and Frodos. Villains, tragic heroes and the like are my thing. They’re usually the most multilayered and interesting characters.

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 : Perfectionism. I’m similar and it sometimes drives me nuts to watch him neglecting himself while trying to achieve perfection. If I could physically talk to him I would go and slap him and be like “EAT. SLEEP. YES THE THING IS GOOD ENOUGH ALREADY. LEAVE IT.”

Q6 : What do you have in common with your muse?

A6 : Well, already kind of answered this one, but wait, there’s more: insomnia, nightmares, PTSD, misanthropy and cynicism come to mind first. And booze. How could I almost forget booze? I believe I know what misery is so I’m good at RPing miserable characters and make them look as authentic as possible. *lols like Alcyone from Magic Knight Rayearth* We both also have a strong sense of justice and nonexistent sympathy for those who use others as stepping stones. Aye I know, sounds a lot like a self-insert character, but it’s not like that. It’s more like... before meeting him/the OCs he’s based on, I used to be quite a scentless and tasteless kid. Similarities and peer support attract. And I’ve also learned from him.

It’s also a lot like me and Lareine. We became friends because we had 95% of the same interests and problems but perhaps that’s why we get along so well and understand each other.

Q7 : How does your muse feel about you?

A7 : He would probably hate and like me at the same time. Or couldn’t decide. We both like peace and quiet, doing our job well is fundamental and our basic values are pretty much the same. We would get along well if we worked in the same place. However, unlike him, I have some horrid procrastination seasons, crippling self-esteem issues, tend to put other people’s needs and opinions above my own and keep stressing about things for 7 billion souls instead of just myself. I’m suspicious of pretty much everything else except Lareine and our plushie crow Agatha, except that Agatha creeps me out sometimes as well when she takes out a knife and sits next to my bed at night, staring at me, can’t watch Hachiko without bawling my eyes out during the entire movie, love puppies and kittens and danger noodles and I’m addicted to video games. Very likely he’d kick me out as well.

Q8 : What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?

A8 : Varg would never admit it to himself, but I think he gets best along with people who are a bit silly in some way, and who get on his nerves by being too carefree and doing stupid things. Lareine and Iris, when they’re behaving. Arsene, who’s kind at everyone. Currently Shaura is my favorite. Varg himself is so uptight people like them help breaking his gray routines. Also a bonus: he doesn’t see them as a threat, so that’s probably the closest he’s able to get to relaxing among other people.

Q9 : What gives you inspiration to write your muse?

A9 : I’m a fan of my own characters. It doesn’t feel like I would’ve created them. I saw them with my third eye or something and I’ve just written for others to read what I’ve seen. I don’t plan RPs beforehand. I just let the hound loose and let him do whatever he wants. So far I haven’t got tired of my characters’ antics and could just write more. The only obstacles are limited hours per day, necessary evils like eating and sleeping, procrastination, trying to sort out my life, and the damn FFXIV. SOMEONE PLEASE TAKE IT OUT OF MY HANDS.

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete?

A10 : Ehh, maybe 4-5 hours.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #character info #au ra #never ending survey

11 notes · View notes

boymeetsweevil · 5 years

Text

sleeping bags (and other unconventional cures for insomnia)

Grouping: Reader x Hoseok

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: i think it makes the cut for PG-13, idk... Sort of enemies to lovers if you squint, cuddling!!! BUT also talk about money troubles and insomnia. Sorry for the weird title

Summary: This is my contribution for the @bangtan-bookclub holiday fic swap. This is based off the prompt “snowed in with your enemy at a ski resort” and this is for @hoseokiehopie. Hey Megan! Sorry for the wait, I hope you’re having a good holiday season!

A/N: also thank you to @b-angst-tan for reading my first 3 drafts and getting me to redirect my frustrations

“Get in the bed, please.”

“N-no.”

The sound of teeth chattering from the cold is just barely audible above the sound of the fire that Hoseok started earlier in the evening.

“Please get in the bed. They said the temperature’s gonna drop another 10 degrees before midnight.” “I’ll focus better if I’m at the table. Stop trying to sabotage me.”

“Who’s trying to sabotage you?”

Hoseok’s voice booms over the small space of the cabin, but you ignore him in favor of scanning through your 15th court case and scribbling on a notepad. The cold is starting to get to you, but you fight through it as best you can. Your fingers seem to have other plans, though. The pencil you were holding drops for the millionth time because the cold has made your fingers rigid. You bend down to grab the pencil and hear Hoseok sigh, followed by the sound of his approaching footsteps. He swipes up the pencil just before you can grab it. “Get in the bed or I’m shutting your computer down.”

“Stop! I’m on a strict schedule.”

He examines you further for a second before throwing his hands up. “Your lips are turning blue. That’s it, I’m taking your computer.” “If you so much as touch my computer, I’ll—” In that moment, your computer screen turns black and shuts off. You’d ignored the low battery warnings for too long, apparently. Hoseok laughs and shakes his head at the irony while you look on in horror. At this rate, you’d have no time for a power sleep if you wanted to finish all the cases before daybreak. “Serves you right.” The shock of your computer dying makes you pliant enough to allow Hoseok to maneuver you away from the table. He brings you to the side of the bed before getting in on his own side and quickly shimmying back into his sleeping bag. It seems to be professional grade from the logo emblazoned on the body of the bag. Not that it matters to you at all. Stubborn, you sit stiffly at the side of the bed, back ramrod straight and lap facing away from Hoseok. “Are you really going to just sit there all night? You might as well try and get some sleep since you can’t work.” “I can’t not work, Hoseok. If I don’t, I can’t prove to Professor Kim that I should be going with him to visit the client to gather testimonies.”

“Why can’t you just go with the flow,” he asks as you run to your bag to see if the printed copies of the cases are there. “Not all of us live a life where good things just fall into our laps. Some of us have to work for it.” He watches as you rifle through your bag several times. There are no printouts to be found and you walk back to the bed with a defeated slump in your shoulders. “I don’t understand why you work so hard, though. You’d probably do fine even if you weren’t first in line for everything. And you’d probably still get into a good firm even if you didn’t participate in all the law extracurriculars available on campus.” You flop down onto your back because there’s nothing else you can do. The wood grain on the ceiling makes an interesting pattern from this vantage point. Too bad it won't get you un-screwed. “I can’t do the bare minimum. I’m a scholarship student. Everyone already thinks I don’t belong at the school because I’m a freeloader.” You make air quotes to the ceiling. “I can’t not be rich and then not get good grades.” “That…makes sense, but does it have to be number one?” You nod. “Why?” You shrug, hopeless. “No one can say anything bad about you if you’re number one.” Hoseok tilts his head and looks at you. Really looks at you. You look a little more frazzled than usual after having the week that you’ve had. First, the toughest professor on campus tasked you to work with Hoseok for the rest of the school year as partners in his student research team. Only one person is ever ahead of you in terms of test scores, GPA, or being fast-tracked to the best internship positions and its Hoseok. Hoseok is, for all intents and purposes, your competition and he doesn’t even see it because he doesn’t ever have to try to earn his number one position. He’s rich and brilliant and chill and you hate it. Everything got slightly worse when the first task of the year was for the two of you to go spend 3 days in isolation at a ski resort. The original intent was so you could survey the suite your professor booked before he went there with an important potential client of his firm. But the peak of suckiness then came when you realized you were given the keys to the wrong lodging: an economy cabin for 1 instead of the luxury suite that could comfortably house 8. Things went further downhill when you couldn’t duck out of the resort to go do outside work at home because a sudden blizzard struck. And since you didn’t think you were staying, you didn’t even pack for the weather.

Now you are trying to meditate away the chill that was seeping into your bones. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew when you were getting dressed this morning that just a sweat-suit and a windbreaker wouldn’t be enough for the weather at a ski resort, regardless of how long you were staying.

There’s nothing you can do now, as you wait for morning to come and hope the constant chattering doesn’t make your teeth fall out. “You didn’t pack a blanket or anything?” “No,” you sigh. Another large shiver wracks your body and Hoseok can’t help but feel something inside him reaching out to you. “I thought I would just stop by and get the inspection over with in a few hours and leave.” “And you don’t want try going to sleep?”

You lock eyes with him and immediately tense up. “I can’t,” you whisper. Your voice is muffled through your hands while you breathe onto them to warm them up.

Everything about the moment is oddly conflicting. You’re so frustrated and so cold, but Hoseok’s gaze is so sympathetic that it feels like its burning holes through your lame knitted beanie. Combined with the dull yellow firelight cast on his already bronzed skin and his coppery hair, he seems like warmth itself. No, he feels like the sun because you can’t bear to look at him. Briefly, you wonder if it’s possible to cry when your tears are frozen.

None of these feelings make any sense.

His brows raise slightly and he turns to you in his sleeping bag. You turn subconsciously towards him as well. “What do you mean ‘you can’t’?” “Oh, come on,” you snort. “You’ve never heard those rumors that people spread about me? Or heard the jokes about me never sleeping and being addicted to coffee?” “Those are true?” His mouth drops open at the prospect of you actually popping pills before zooming around the library at night like a sped-up ghost. “Well...no. I just can’t ever really sleep. I think it's insomnia, but I never got it officially checked out.” “Why not?” “Couldn’t pay the consultation fees even at Campus Health because I had to waive my health insurance. And I can’t get a job right now, otherwise I’ll jeopardize my scholarship.” You play with a loose thread on the bare mattress underneath you. The shame makes your hands itchy and restless. “Oh.” The sounds of the logs Hoseok put into the fireplace earlier getting eaten by the flames takes over for a while. It’s almost nice, but it doesn’t do much for you. For Hoseok, though, the sound is lulling him to sleep. He’s a natural early-riser and sleeps early as a result. Knowing that you’ll be up all night with nothing to do, trying not to freeze makes him feel awful. He unzips the side zipper on his sleeping back and scoots closer to you on the bed. “Get in.” “What? Hoseok, I can’t.”

“I’m not asking if you can. You’ll freeze if you don’t. You don’t have any other options, and the guilt will probably kill me faster than the cold will kill you.” When you don’t budge, he tries one more time. “Get. In.” “I won’t fit.” “Yes, you will. This is an extra-large. Get in.” “This is so inappropriate.”

Hoseok snorts in reply before tugging on the loose fabric of your shirt as a silent ‘hurry up’. Even still, you wait until he’s opened the bag up more and then wriggle your way in so there’s still enough room between you to be respectable. Given that he’s had some time in the bag by himself, it’s already significantly warmer than the air outside it. As soon as you’re fully in you realize the tapered shape of the bag means your feet have to touch Hoseok’s. Somehow that’s more intimate than the fact that your faces are less than a foot apart. You’re still shivering, though. Hoseok takes note and moves closer to you.

“What are you doing?”

His cheeks color. “I’m just—you seem like you’re still cold.” “R-right.” He presses closer and you instinctively look up to gauge his features. With the fire slowly dying, the light has changed. This soft red light still suits him and lends a subtle softness to his otherwise sharp bone structure. His hair also matches the flames crackling in the background. The sound of his breathing is deep and steady, but slow. His arm brushes yours as he shifts onto his side. Everything is very...cozy. You’re struck by a strange feeling. It’s a familiar one, but you can’t remember where you’ve felt it before. While you contemplate, Hoseok takes a moment to look you over as well. In all truth, he’s sad he hasn’t gotten to know this much about you until now. He didn’t want to believe the rumors that he had admittedly heard floating around since his first year in the law program. Part of it was because he knew what it was like to be the subject of jealous rumors. He knew what people said about him and his parents’ wealth and his accidental success both in school and outside of it. But he also just didn’t believe some of the stuff he’d heard about you. They called you the girl that never sleeps. He supposes that’s because, like him, you’re always in the top 1% of class. But he’d also heard people say that you’re the girl who breezes through the stacks late at night like the ghosts rumored to haunt the ancient school halls. The girl who allegedly has 4 different fake prescriptions for Adderall and extra-strength caffeine pills. The girl who is always the first one to show up for classes, for exams, for office hours, for the legal colloquium meetings. Perhaps the name is the only accurate thing attributed to you. He knows your pride wouldn’t let you take the easy way out and that, as a result, you could be found at any hour outside of class in the stacks, studying. But he can’t imagine you being as conniving as everyone makes you out to be. Just a little insecure and a little sleep-deprived. The dark circles under your eyes that are always there are a clear sign of the price you pay to keep your high spot in class among your cohorts. It’s a little sad.

Hoseok finds himself wondering what you look like when you’re carefree and smiling. He wants to know what you look like when you’re just lying in a patch of sunlight because you can and there’s nothing you want more. He wants to see what you look like when your eyes are drooping with contentedness. “You’re staring. Is there something on my face?” He snaps out of his musings and realizes he’s been spacing out while staring directly at your forehead for some time now. When he shakes his head, you only give him a suspicious look before you turn your back to him. “Let’s give the sleep thing a try, okay? If it works, tomorrow I’ll let you read all your cases unbothered.”

He sets his phone on airplane mode to conserve battery since the storm killed the power. He sets the phone alarm next and then gets up as carefully as he can without letting too much cold air in so he can extinguish the fire. By the time he comes back to the bed, you’re already missing his heat. You’re tempted to turn to face him again so you can seek the warmth out at the source, but the potential misunderstandings would be too much for you to deal with right now. So you settle for scooting back an inch or two until his body heat radiates more strongly against your back.

“I’m just cold. Don’t read into this too much.” You’re glad that he can’t see the mortified way your face heats up in embarrassment.

“I won’t,” he says to you before slinging an arm around your middle and bringing you closer. “As long as you don’t misinterpret this either.”

“You’re still cold?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the syllable.

Then, for the first time in months, you feel the cottony weight of sleep taking over your body. Suddenly you can’t seem to care that you haven’t finished reading the 30 court cases you brought with you to be prepared for the meeting next week. All you care about is letting the feeling wash over you until you end up somewhere else. The last thing you see before your eyes shut is Hoseok’s hand pulling the hood of the sleeping bag over both of your heads.

When you wake up, you’re cuddling Jung Hoseok like your life depends on it. Somehow you’ve migrated completely on top of him, with his chest pillowing your head and your leg thrown across his. His arm is still wrapped around your middle, though it’s more tightly holding you than before. You hold your breath and wait for the embarrassment to come rushing in, but it never does. Instead all you can focus on is the fact that your head feels clearer than it has in a long while. In fact, your whole body feels more refreshed.

Reluctantly, you try to pull away, but the arm Hoseok had thrown over you squeezes you lightly. You freeze up in his grip and he relaxes his hold a bit. “Sorry for, uh, getting in your space,” you mumble into the fabric of his thick sleep shirt. “Are you uncomfortable?” “Actually? No.” He shifts so he can roll over and rest his cheek on the top of your head. “Let’s sleep in, then.”

“But shouldn’t we talk about—”

“Do you wanna get dinner with me as soon as we’re not stranded here?”

You stammer for a second and Hoseok takes the moment to adjust the sleeping bag around the two of you once more. Under the cover of darkness, he probes again.

“So, dinner?”

#bbcexchange18 #bangtan bookclub #networkbangtan #hyunglinenetwork #JHOPENETWORK #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfction #bangtan fanfic #bangtan scenarios #bangtan imagines #hoseok scenarios #hoseok imagines #hoseok fanfic

406 notes · View notes

crazyrandomfucker · 5 years

Text

Adrien Augreste: Nightmares

Adrien wasn't okay. He definetly wasn't. A week ago, he was with his Lady, happily getting ready to battle and defeat Hawk Moth once and for all as Kitty Noire and Lordubg battled against Monarch. None of them came unharmed from that battle, even if the damages weren't physical. After defeating them, they discovered their identities along with the identities of Le Paon and Mayura. Noone could have predicted how harmful was to discover that Gabriel Agreste and Jeanne Agreste had been plotting against their own family and their protegees. Of course their loyal minions resulted to be no other than their so loyal secretaries: Nathalie and Nathan.

They hadn't revealed to the public the identieties of the vilains, but everyone knew about the defeat of those who had been tormenting them for so long. Master Fu was shocked when he heard the identities of the villains and appologised several times to the teenagers. His siblings, Mister and Miss Fu, had been giving some sort of psychology treatment to the young heroes. The rest of the miraculous squad wasn't informed about the identities of the villains, but upon seeing how affected their heroes were, they didn't dare to ask them.

It was so painful. Adrien had been so close to die at the hands of the monsters his father and aunt created. Even worse he had almost lost everything important to him: his friends, his sister and, the worst of it, his love. He felt furious, betrayed, hurt, ... But he still had Marinette, who supported him without doubting, even if she just was almost as hurt as Adrien. But the worst were the nights, when he managed to fall asleep, the memories of all those previous battles came back to him, haunting him with the possibilities of things that could have go wrong and even picturing his father or his aunt killing him, instead of the akumas, as they laughed evily and took his miraculous away.

As far as he knew, his sister and the bugs were also dealing with their own traumas and the nightmares. Mari suffered insomnia, Marin developed a PTSD and Adrienne recluded herself on her bedroom, only allowing Marin to enter. It was frankly devastating for all of them to even face any of their enemies, mainly because they had to see them on a daily basis, but also because they clearly were devastated by their defeat. Gabriel was the shadow of the man he once was, recluding himself, barely getting any food or sleep and over obsesing with every single details of his surroundings. On the other hand, Jeanne showed some sort of depression mixed with sudden outbursts. The young heroes were almost scared to see them just in case the villains would somehow recognise them outside the mask.

The only bright side Adrien and Adrienne could possibly ever see about the situation was that they were no longer expected to do any sort of modeling and could do as they pleased, given the parnoic state of their father and the misterious disappearence of Nathalie, but in the end, they only felt more depressed because of the fact that they had also lost the little to unexistent love and care from their father. Of course, Mar and Mari were constantly with them, even if they didn't interact, just being there to let them know that they still had someone who cared about them, who would support them no matter what and that will always love them unconditionally. It wasn't really strange to see Lordbug entering Adrienne's bedroom or seeing Chat Noir running over the roof tops and stopping over the bakery of the Dupain-Cheng.

Strangely, each time Chat visited Marinette, someone of the miraculous squad was also there or at Marin's secluded space on the rooftop. He slowly began to understand that it wasn't because they had revealed their identities (they had meant to do it after defeating Hawk Moth and Monarch, but they weren't precisely mentally sane after that battle), but because they enjoyed how the children of the best bakers in Paris treated them, as if they simply were another civilian and not superheroes nor gods, like most of civilians used to do. Of course, he suspected that they knew the designers from outside the mask, but Chloe and Cleón certainly weren't exactly known to be civil with the designers and yet, they surprisingly appeared more often that not and generally behaved.

That day, he had had a particulary horrible nightmare were his father and aunt forced akumas into him to akumatize him and then made him cold-bloodly murder everyone in Paris, each murder bloodier and crueller than the last. he had slaughtered his firends, cataclismed Adrienne and Marin and torn Marinette into little pieces. He was honestly trembling and his eyes couldn't stop the torrent of tears flooding his face when he awoke and Plagg surprised him by hugging him and purring to sooth the pain, but he couldn't calm down and, despite Adrienne was recluded, he entered in her bedroom to check if it had only been a nightmare. When he opened the door, he saw his sister, also holding the handle of the door and with watery eyes and a stream of tears flowing down her face.

Without ponouncing a single word, both twins understood perfectly how the other felt and why the other was there. They hugged themselves closely, comforting the other and crying in a strange mix of fear and relief. Once they pulled apart from the heartfelt hug, they look one to another, nodded and called upon their transformations, turning into their superheroes selves and leaving the now colder than ever house. the jumped from roftop to rooftop, not saying a word, being only focused on getting to their destination. But when they arrived, they didn't expect to only see Marinette's lights on and much less to see all of their miraculous friends and Marin in her bedroom, no matter how big and spacious was the place (seriously, she and Marin had small apartment to live by themselves and they were still somehow surprised by Adrien's and Adriennes bedrooms!).

"Oh, um... Hello?" said Chat awkwardly. "Are we interrumping something?"

"Chat! You're not inte..." began Marinette. "Kitty! You're here too! Are you feeling better? Can I bring you anything or do anything for you?"

"Kitty?!" erupted all the heroes as they noticed her in the shadows, hiding behind her brother. They made a move to get to her, but Marin and Chat stopped them.

"Hey, give her some space" said Marin in a warning tone.

"She's not feeling in the best mood for this and honestly neither am I" declared Chat.

Marinette approached Chat and caressed his cheek. "Another nightmare minou?" said the girl worried.

"A bad one. She also had one, probably similar to mine" said in a low voice Chat.

"Poor minou" said Marinette as she hugged him tight to comfort him. "I'm sorry that you have to go through all of this. Is there aything we can do to help?"

"Yeah dude, we're kinda worried about you cats and the bugs. You haven't been yourselves... lately" said Carapace.

"Specially about you and Kitty. Seriouesly, we want to help you two. That's why we're in here today in fact" said Rena Rouge.

"Thanks a lot" said Kitty tearing down. "I'm sorry I'm like this..."

"There's nothing wrong ma minette" siad Marin comforting her. "It's not your fault and it's totally justified to be like this after... that discovery".

"Still, thank you. I don't know Kitty, but seeing all of you is kind of a relief right now" said Chat.

"Don't tell me it was that kind of nightmares" said Marinette very worried. "Oh, I'm so sorry Chaton. We're here and we're fine, you haven't hurt anyone".

"What does that mean?" said Queen Bee.

"It's because of my nightmares... One kind of the worst I tend to have is about getting akumatised and killing... everyone" explained Chat visibly in pain.

Carapace and El Zorro looked eachother and put their arms around Chat's shoulders. "Bro, dont worry, you're certainly not getting rid of us so easily" said el Zorro.

"Yeah dude, we're all here for you dude. We were even discussing about revealing ourselves, so you two can have more civilians to talk and get it all out from your chests" said Carapace.

"What?!" exclaimed Kitty in a bit of panic.

"Don't worry girl, we're just going to reveal ourselves, we're not going to force you two to reveal and the same goes for the bugs" said Salihafa.

"I still think it's not the best idea" said Marin.

"Oh shut up breadface" said Drone King. "We don't have to worry about villains now, let them do it to help the alley cats".

"Okay, now we're having it" said Marin angry. "First of all f**kface, they're not alley cats and they saved your ass more times than you can count, so show some respect. Second-".

"Stop it!" yelled Kitty. "I'm done with you two fighting always!"

"Fine..." said Marin resigning.

"Know your place commoner. We're the heroes here" said Drone King pridefully.

"He's also one you stupid dumbass!" exploded Kitty as she detransformed into Adrienne and everyone gasped.

"Well, I guess that now the cat's out of the bag" said Chat and detransformed.

"NO WAY!!" exclaimed the turtles and the foxes at unison.

"My bro has been a superhero all the time!" said Carapcae.

"No wonder I've liked this girl so much" said Salihafa hugging a confused Adrienne.

"You know they won't get it unless you detransform right?" pointed Rena.

"Yeah babe, spare the girl all the confussion already" agreed Zorro.

"Oh, right" said Salihafa as the turtles detransformed and revealed Nino and Nina.

"Wait a minute" says Chloe. "I get this is all important. The turtles are the Lahiffe and that means these sly foxes are the Césaire, yes. But has anybody thought that if Adrikins and Adri are the cats, that means the bakers here present are Lordbug and Ladybug?!" exclaimed Queen Bee.

Everybody remained silent for a couple of minutes, everybody looking at Marinette or at Marin until Drone King snapped out of it. "No f**king way. YOU are Lordbug! NO WAY!"

"Well, yes way young drone" said Tekke coming out of Marin T-shirt. "Hi, I'm Tekke, the kwami of Lordbug. It's a pleasure to meet all of you".

"Boy, you've got looooooot of explaining to do" said Zorro smiling.

"Well, sorry for keeping you in the dark bud" said Marin. "You know how it is".

"My best friend is Ladybug, her boyfriend is Chat Noir and their siblings are Lordbug and Kitty Noire. I'm the worst reporter in all existance" lamented Alya.

"To be honest kitten, if it wasn't for the magic protecting your identities, you would have guessed a long time ago" said Plagg coming out of Adrien's shirt. "The name's Plagg, god of destruction and a cheese gourmet".

"It's adorable!" exclaimed nina upon seeing Plagg.

"Sheesh, calm down little Molly" said Plague. "He's not the prettiest of the two".

"Is this turning into a kwami-holder meeting?" said Weiss as she pulled her head out of Nina's jacket.

"It seems so" said Marinette. "honestly, this is pretty chaotic and definetly not how I expected to be either the night or the reveal".

"I'd recommend you to lower your voice and detransform before someone comes" says Tikki flying from behind a pillow. Everybody turned back to their civilians selves and sat down in silence, until Trixx made a fart noise.

"Trixx!" complained Alya.

"What? It was getting uncomfortable AND boring" replied the mischievous kwami.

"Little Foxy's right, it was getting bored and I don't have any cheese" said Plagg.

"Okay, how about we do a presentation round" suggested Marinette. "So everybody will know everybody's name".

"Excellent idea Ladybug" said Wayzz. "I suggest to begin with the red ladybbugs and the black cats".

"He always suggests that" says Plague nonchalantly.

"I will start" said Tekke glaring Plague. "I'm Tekke, Kwami of creation and my current holder is Marin Dupain-Cheng. Hello again".

"And I am Tikki" said the red kwami. "Would you like to continue Stinky Socks?"

"I already presented myself Sugarcube, it's her turn" said lazily Plagg.

"Very well then. The name's Plague, beautiful godess of destruction and that blonde mess of feelings is my holder" said Plague.

"Plague" warned Tekke.

"Come on Jawbreaker, I've behaved myself this time" complained Plague.

"I believe it's quite disrespectful to call your holder a 'blonde mess of feelings'. And don't call me Jawbreaker, I'm not calling you Death Breath" replied Tekke.

"Okay geez. Her name is Adrienne and she's in a tough spot right now, please be gentle with her" said Plague.

"Yeah whatevs. I'm Trixx, kwami of illusions and this beautyful reporter here is my awesome holder" said the foxy Kwami.

"And I'm Traxx, same story except that my holder is Alen" said Traxx as she jumped from Alen's head.

"Hello dear holders of miraculous. My name is Pollen and I'm one of the Bee Kwamis" said Pollen respectfully.

"As my sitser said, I'm the other Bee Kwami, Pellet. I apologise for my holder behaviour, we're still wroking on it" declared the kwami.

"I guess it's my turn then. Hello, I'm Weiss, Kwami of Protection and the Turtle" said the little turtle goddess.

"And I'm Wayzz, her brother".

"Is there any doubt?" said Marin. "Something to say or to ask before we go back into the loop of awkward silence?"

"I have something to say and something to ask" declared Chloe, surprising everybody. "First I'm going to say something. Marinette, we have never been in good terms and we have hated each other for quite a long time. But you still trusted in me and gave me the miraculous of the bee even after I got akumatized again. Two times actually. You still had faith in me despite how I am and how I've ever treated you. Thank you for that and I'm sorry for everything I've done to you"

"Thank you Chloe" said Marinete surprised after she recovered from the initial confusion. "That's very sweet of you... I'm glad that having the miraculous has helped you".

"Don't expect me to apologise breadhead, I still hate you. But I'll also thank you for trusting me with the miraculous" said a petty Cléon.

"You're welcome. I was hoping you would gain some sense in that blockhead of yours" said Marn.

"Stop it you two" warned Adrienne. "I'm not in the mood and Chloe still has a question to ask".

"Thank you Adri. Now, spill. Who were the villains that affected you for so much" said Chloe seriously. "Your attitude has been ridiculous since and I'm not the only one who wants to help, but we need some intel to help you whatever is going on with you four".

"Chloe, we appreciate the intention, but-" began Mari.

"Hawk Moth was father" interrumped Adrien. "Mayura was Nathalie, my aunt was Monarch and her secretary Nathan was Le Paón".

"Say what?!" blurted the others.

"It's true. They don't know our identites thought" said Marin.

"I'm going to shove my shield up into the butt of that old man" said Nina getting angrier.

"I'll shove my flute at full force against Jeanne's face then. She was so hypocrite!" said Alya.

"No, no. We're going to skin them alive" said Alen.

"Dude, dudette, I'm adopting you two and there's nothing you can do to change my mind" said Nino.

"I can't believe it was them" said the Bourgeoise having an existential crisis.

"We know Chloe, we were also so shocked Cléon. Nino, you can't adopt them, my parents claimed that a long time ago and they don't know about the miraculous. Alya, Alen and Nina, as much as I'd love to do all that, those are still crimes and we are superheroes" said Marinette, bringing peace to the room.

"I love when you do that" said Adrien.

"Shush minou" said Marinette blushing slightly.

the teenagers kept talking and discussing for the night, slowly accomodating themselves as they got sleepy. Adrienne sat on Marn's lap and he hugged her, falling asleep like that as she purred and he buzzed. Alya and Nino slowly rested their heads on the other's and fell asleep. Nina fell asleep on Alen's belly. Chloe and Cléon fell asleep on their chairsand Marinette covered them with some blankets. Adrien thought, just put his head on Marinette's lap and she began to pet him, runing her finger between the golden locks and driving Adrien crazy of pleasure. He began to purr and she smiled, not noticing that both of them were also sloly falling asleep, but this times, no nightmare would dare to come in the room of superheroes.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #miraculous au #adrien augreste #Twins!Au

9 notes · View notes

antonixfawley · 4 years

Text

About: Antoni Fawley

“ I’ll keep all my plans close to my chest . . . ”

Introduction

name: Antoni Fabian Fawley also known as: Toni age: 23 birthday: January 30 astrological sign: Aquarius species: Human gender: Male pronouns: He/Him orientation: Queer

Past/Bio

Early life: Antonio was raised by two loving parents, Peter and Lena Fawley. His father’s family came from a long line of pureblood, members of the sacred twenty-eight in fact. Though his family did keep their bloodline pure, they only did so out of tradition, and not because they really put much stock into blood purity. The Fawley’s were a long line of Hufflepuffs, with nearly every member being sorted into the badger house, aside from those who married into the family, such as Antoni’s mother. So of course he was raised on values of loyalty and hard work, kindness and gratitude, all the makings of another fine Hufflepuff student. Antoni never really clicked with those things, though. He wasn’t as interested in family activities as he was in reading alone in his room, he found making in depth maps of the land surrounding his family home much more engaging than playing silly games or doing chores on those lands. He had difficultly finding time alone growing up, as his father insisted he stay out and spend time with his siblings as well as aunts, uncles and cousins who were always at the estate for one reason or another. From fancy dinner parties to family game night to simply having tea, the Fawley’s adore entertaining guests. Antoni’s mother understood though, the polish witch being a bit introverted herself, she knew her oldest son was a bit more like her than his fathers side of the family. She would let Antoni leave dinner a bit early some days, or skip out on tea to have some alone time. She let him stay up later so he could read a few more pages of whatever book he was on at the time, when his siblings had to go to bed early. Growing up in a household with such high expectations for their children to be a certain way, Antoni became quite calculated in his behavior. He chose when to sneak away and when to be present with family, quickly learning when the right time to speak was, and when he should hold his tongue. He kept most of his thoughts to himself, already being so distant from his siblings and family, he didn’t want to further alienate himself by making any wrong moves. Hogwarts: When Antoni went off to Hogwarts, his whole family was ecstatic to see the eldest son find a place in the line of Hufflepuff legacies, but when the sorting hat touched his head, it had no hesitation before shouting out “Ravenclaw!” to the hall. Most children would be mortified of not being placed in their family’s house, but all of a sudden he saw a sea of blue rise up and welcome him in, a sea of people just like him. He felt like all his years of running off to find a quiet spot, staying up late in secret to read or write were validated now, he wasn’t the odd one out anymore. Antoni’s family, of course, were supportive anyways. After all, what kind of Hufflepuff wouldn’t support their family? There was always teasing though, and his siblings and countless Hufflepuff cousins never let him forget that he was different, he was odd, but he didn’t mind what they said. He knew who he was and he didn’t care what anyone else thought. Toni’s years at Hogwarts gave him time to grow and branch out, finding interest in astronomy, arithmatic, potions, and history the most, though he excelled in all his courses. He continued his hobbie of map making, working tirelessly to document every part of the castle that he could, drawing extensive separate maps of each floor and the grounds. He found many friends in ravenclaw, as well as some outside his house, though he always preferred to be alone when given the chance. He didn’t really find much interest in dating for the first few years of school, but around fifth year, his friends around him began to couple up he knew he needed to blend in with the behavior and found himself beginning to flirt and be more outgoing with other students. His family credits these years as when he started to blossom, as he began to stop secluding himself and interacted much more with others. He enjoyed these little flirtations he found, and some even blossomed into relationships, though they never lasted long. He wasn’t very focused on actually finding love or romance, he was just having fun with what he found to be a challenge. He wanted to see how easily he could get someone to trust him and fall for him, often playing mind games with the people he dated. Antoni grew into an extremely intelligent, calculating, and focused individual, crafting a reputation for himself as a charming, friendly young man with a bit of a heartbreaker streak. Current life: After leaving Hogwarts, Antoni ventures into various places of employment, testing out office jobs, interning at various places, including the Daily Prophet for a spell, though it didn’t last long. None really ever did since he was easily bored and would just quit, getting a new job whenever he wanted. Due to the high marks he reached on both his OWL and NEWT exams, pretty much any job was available to him. Then, Antoni had found an interest in Ministry work, and law had always been eye catching to him as well. Currently, he has been working as an intern for the Auror department at the ministry of magic. He found a place with the Death Eaters not long after graduation, his intellect and moral ambiguity being good qualities for him to apply to the group. He had never grown up being taught about blood purity, but he of course learned of it in school and was quickly swayed. After all, he was a Fawley, a member of the Sacred Twenty-eight. In his mind, he deserved a spot at that table, and he was going to get what he was owed.

About

personality: charming, calculated, friendly, intelligent, and self-serving label: The Facade positive traits: clever, passionate, level-headed negative traits: self-serving, two-faced, easily bored alignment: True Neutral goals/desires: find something that interest him and holds his interest, gain power in society fears: being bored, not finding anything engaging that can intellectually challenge him hobbies: map making, reading, writing, calligraphy. habits: zoning out, over explaining things, lying

Appearance

Face claim: Thomas Doherty height: 6ft eye color: Blue hair description: * color: Dark Brown * highlights: none * length: medium * worn: shaved on the sides, long on top, usually messy and tousled or styled up scars: none piercings: none tattoos: drawing of the golden ratio with a shell and an outline of Poland on his right forearm. A quill on the back of his neck, if you look closely the ink is actually dark blue, not black. clothing style: Clean, often a t shirts and jeans with a flamboyant statement jacket. For work he wears a suit, often dark blue. usual expression: Neutral, basically has RBF distinguishing characteristics: speaks polish sometimes. health physical ailments: none neurological conditions: insomnia allergies: none sleeping habits: bad he doesn’t sleep enough eating habits: also bad he isn’t starving tho exercise habits: decent he likes to keep in shape emotional stability: he isnt very emotional and doesn’t get worked up by much sociability: he’s quite sociable only because he forces himself to be to make himself look good, he would rather not be social. body temperature: cold addictions: coffee/tea/energy drinks(caffeine) drug use: social alcohol use: moderate-high

Relationships

father: Peter Fawley, distant, he doesn’t really understand his son but still has a civil and kind relationship. mother: Lena Fawley, positive, his mother is supportive of him and they are close siblings: distant, less positive, since his siblings don’t like how much he distances himself from them. relatives: Most- neutral, distant, he doesn’t associate with most of his relatives. Jasper Travers (cousin), positive, friendly. family line of work: Ministry work, quidditch players, politicians. best friends: open!!! cohorts: Scorpius Malfoy, Marcelina Bloem, Daisy Dursley, Doe Creevy, Dominique Weasley, Dylan Parkinson idk there’s a lot significant other: none atm gimme crush: open exes: open!! Pls hmu for this connection I’m sure he has loads followers: plots frenemies: plots enemies: gimme plots

Education

school: Hogwarts house: Ravenclaw best core class: Astronomy, potions, charms, defense against the dark arts worst core class: Care of Magical Creatures quidditch: no extra-curricular: astronomy club idk probably others I can’t think rn

Magic

wand: * length: 10 3/4 inch * flexibility: unyielding flexibility * wood: Elder * core: Unicorn Hair pets: none boggart: boredom animagus/patronus: Wild Rabbit amortentia: old books, grass, firewood

Favorites

theme song: wait for it- Hamilton food: toast drink: coffee/tea color: navy blue animal: mouse flower: lavender season: fall

#about #bio #this took forver this is the only time im using adrians format #gimme plots

1 note · View note

durifmdarchived · 5 years

Photo

[ spotify link ! ]

he could probably tell you about all the stars in the sky. the constellations that are formed, the way they shine so brightly, and about that one star that shines the most. he knows the stars; the friends that he holds during those late nights where his body just won’t go to sleep. he founds solace in the slow songs, the one’s to relax him during these long nights with late night stars & tired eyes.

001. don’t forget by crush ft taeyeon. ⏤ if you and me become estranged someday, if we could never meet each other. don’t forget, don’t lose. even if you are holding other’s hand, if you are at somewhere i cannot go. don’t forget don’t lose. 002. lay your head on me by crush. ⏤ can see you're lost, i see you strugglin’. can't even tell your friends from your enemies. but you can come to me and lay your head on me. oh when you say you've given up, when you say you had enough, i'm thinking 'bout you always, i'm thinking 'bout you always. 003. palette by iu ft g-dragon gold star solost 1 ft ?. ⏤ rather than long hair, i definitely like short hair. but still i was pretty when i sang good day. oh why is that? i like things a little outdated, mmm rather than pictures i like filled palettes, diaries, times i was asleep. 004. empty by winner. ⏤ my reflection in the mirror is so empty, as if there’s nothing there. i walk alone on the street but this empty street feels so empty. da ra dat dat dat dat dat dat, baby don’t worry. after waking up from the dream that was you, this morning of reality feels so empty. 005. underwater by heize. ⏤ right now i’m underwater look at my status message. i put on black goggles, so i don’t see you. this is my oxygen tank because i’m suffocating please move aside. right now i’m underwater, right now i’m underwater. 006. insomnia by the rose. ⏤ just go away, stay here in my heart. just go away, stay here in my heart. i don’t know me. i’m standing somewhere in the shaking ground. it’s just that i already passed you. 007. nightingale by demi lovato. ⏤ can you be my nightingale? sing to me, i know you're there. you could be my sanity. bring me peace, sing me to sleep. say you'll be my nightingale. 008. the moment i knew by taylor swift. ⏤ christmas lights glisten, i've got my eye on the door, just waiting for you to walk in, but the time is ticking. people ask me how I've been as i comb back through my memory, how you said you'd be here, you said you'd be here. 009. ronan by taylor swift. ⏤ i remember your blue eyes looking into mine like we had our own secret club. i remember you dancing before bed time then jumping on me waking me up. i can still feel you hold my hand. little man, from even that moment i knew you fought it hard like an army guy. remember I leaned in and whispered to you. come on baby with me, we're gonna fly away from here, you were my best four years. 010. unconditionally by katy perry. ⏤ come just as you are to me, don't need apologies. know that you are all worthy. i'll take your bad days with your good walk through this storm i would. i'd do it all because i love you, i love you. 011. wide awake by katy perry. ⏤ i'm wide awake. yeah, i was in the dark. i was falling hard with an open heart. i'm wide awake. how did i read the stars so wrong? i'm wide awake and now it's clear to me. 012. breathe by taylor swift & colbie caillat. ⏤ music starts playin' like the end of a sad movie, it's the kinda ending you don't really wanna see 'cause it's tragedy and it'll only bring you down, now i don't know what to be without you around and we know it's never simple, never easy. never a clean break, no one here to save me you're the only thing I know like the back of my hand.

#⌜ tunes. ⌝#yeah there's three taylor swift songs on this playlist keep it moving #⌜ about. ⌝

2 notes · View notes

megaphonemonday · 6 years

Text

my worst enemy

romanceisreal: Neither of them can get the baby to sleep so they start enlisting team mates to come over and help

Did I steal at least the inspiration for this premise from The Office? Definitely. Am I proud of that? Eh.

read on ao3

It was entirely possible that at the grand old age of 41, before he’d even managed to make it onto the ballot for the Baseball Hall of Fame or master the art of the one-handed diaper change, Mike Lawson had finally lost his mind.

Sleep-deprivation-induced insanity was a thing, right? They—and he didn’t know who exactly, but he was willing to bet someone out there believed this—said that too many nights without hitting a REM cycle could do that. Mike had to have left that particular benchmark in the dust at least a week ago.

He’d either lost his mind or he’d actually crashed the car on his way home from the grocery store and this was some hallucination courtesy of a concussion and an infusion of the good shit at the hospital. Because he definitely hadn’t stumbled his way through laying up his haul, probably stowing boxes of spaghetti in the freezer and the Eggos in the pantry, in his fatigue and eagerness to get upstairs for Ruby’s bedtime only to be confronted by... this.

Because this could not be real. Not unless some very serious brain damage was at play.

It was the only way to explain what Mike was witnessing in the nursery. It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him. His exhausted brain had finally given up the charade and melted into a puddle of goo that’d come dribbling out his ears any minute.

That, after all, was just as plausible as the scene he’d just walked out on: Ruby Baker-Lawson for once sound asleep at her designated bedtime.

Of course, that wasn’t what made him turn on his heel and go in search of her mother. That, if anything, was a dream come true. Had he mentioned how goddamn long it had been since he’d had a good night’s sleep?

(If he were less tired, he’d remember that he’d started keeping track on the calendar on his phone. As it was, Mike was just relatively sure it’d been too fucking long.)

The problem was who, exactly, had finally, miraculously, gotten her down for the count.

It wasn’t Ruby’s mother or father; their kid had proven over and over again that she had little respect for his or Ginny’s authority.

(Or their begging and pleading, for that matter.)

It wasn’t Al, who’d been more than happy to adopt yet another grandchild, in spite of the fact he already had a horde of his own.

It wasn’t even Blip or Evelyn, which would’ve probably stung a little. In the interest of reintroducing his daughter to something even approaching a regular sleep schedule, though, he’d learn to get over it.

He was less sure he’d get over this.

Mike wasn’t sure how to even begin wrapping his brain around the sight of Livan fucking Duarte in the nursery— settled as comfortably into the rocking chair as if he’d been the one to spend hours cursing over the incomprehensible instructions just to construct the damn thing—a sleeping Ruby nestled into the crook of his arm.

Was it too late to ask for that total mental breakdown?

“Ginny!” Mike hissed, probably too loud considering his daughter was soundly asleep for the first time in what felt like weeks just a room away. He wanted answers. Right fucking now.

Which, okay. If it was possible that Mike had actually lost his mind, it was more than possible that he was overreacting.

He knew this. Somewhere in the last reasonable part of his mind—the part that wasn’t operating solely on day-old coffee, adrenaline, and three hours of dozing, one ear always cocked for fussing from his baby girl—was fully aware that this was not the hill he wanted to die on.

(If he had to pick, he’d definitely go with something more important. Like the superiority of Empire Strikes Back over Return of the Jedi. Or implementing Pants-less Thursdays in the Baker-Lawson household like he’d tried before Ginny got pregnant.

At least as long as Ruby was too little to notice. How else was she going to get a younger sibling?

Well, given his track record, in a multitude of ways, but this would definitely up the odds, right?)

Problem was: that part, that utterly reasonable part of him that he wanted so desperately to listen to? It was weak. Defenseless. Beaten down by weeks of failure to get his daughter to do one of the four things all babies were constitutionally designed to excel at: sleep.

So much so that every other part of him—the ones that had turned a little ruthless in the face of too little rest and too much stress—had no problem squashing it like a bug.

Poor thing. It never even stood a chance.

His wife, as relentlessly productive as usual, though she had to be operating in the same thick fog of fatigue as him, stuck her head out of the laundry room but stepped into the hall when she caught sight of his thunderous expression. She padded along the plush runner, wafting the soothing scent of dryer sheets and warm linen as she approached.

Mike didn’t let himself be lulled out of his anger in spite of the way she smelled exactly the way he’d always imagined home would and looked even better. (It was always something of a marvel that Ginny’d actually agreed to hitch her wagon to his, not least because she still managed to look like a goddamn supermodel with bags under her eyes and dried spit up on her shirt.) He steeled himself, didn’t let the indignation sputter and die, instead stoking it to a crackling roar.

How could she have called him? Of all the people who would’ve dropped what they were doing to help them out—and Mike could even admit that they probably needed it—it had to be Livan?

“Seriously?” he demanded, unwilling or unable to translate his—God, there was no word for it but—betrayal into more something more eloquent.

He didn’t really need to, though. They knew each other too well—which was almost always a good thing, even if something ugly was stirring in the pit of Mike’s stomach now—for there to be any question of what he meant.

Her jaw squared, shoulders drawing back as she braced for his response to her answer: “He’s babysitting. So we can get some sleep.”

Mike snorted, even if the thought of actually getting to sleep with Ginny in the same bed at the same time nearly made him tear up in desperation. It’d been too fucking long since he’d had that and goddamn it, he missed it.

Livan Duarte, hotheaded hotshot still tearing up the NL West and coaxing Ginny through her starts, had lowered himself to babysit? And Mike was supposed to just go to sleep with him in his house? Jesus, what had the world come to?

Theoretically, it wasn’t such a bad idea. It was pretty brilliant, actually. Mike would just chalk it up to sleep deprivation that he hadn’t come up with it himself.

It was the reality of it all that bothered him. Livan had already taken one job from Mike. He couldn’t have this one too.

If Mike were just a little less exhausted, he was pretty sure he could put up a better fight. Then again, if Mike, or Ginny for that matter, were a little less exhausted, there’d be nothing to fight over.

He’d been tired before, but this was something else. Worse than any burnout from a playoff push, worse than back to back doubleheaders in the depths of July, worse than his bouts of insomnia during his separation from Rachel. Worse because there was no end in sight; he and Ginny were responsible for this mess—under ordinary circumstances Mike would never refer to his six-month-old daughter as a “mess” unless she’d managed to blow out yet another diaper, but he figured it might be allowed in this particular instance. Ruby was theirs to raise and love unconditionally and, yeah, at the moment, grit their teeth and deal with until she eventually grew up and moved out.

Which, to be clear, Mike still wanted to come only after she’d graduated or maybe turned at least 35. Still, it was a little hard to remember that sometimes.

Because for what seemed like the past eternity—but could only have been a month tops or they’d already be dead instead of just dead on their feet—little Ruby Baker-Lawson had been running her parents ragged. His own progeny.

Spawn seemed more accurate lately.

God knew Mike loved Ruby more than life itself—remember: no moving out until after she had her own 401K and maybe not even then—but would it really kill her to cut them a break? To go the fuck to sleep and stay asleep for more than an hour or three at a time?

Given Ruby’s continued refusal to do so—even in the face of her parents’ increasingly desperate tactics: swaddling, long car rides, the rock n’ play she was rapidly outgrowing, sprawling her bare-skinned and squirming against Mike’s chest to be lulled by his breathing, endless circuits of the house as Ginny bounced and rocked her into drowsiness—Mike suspected that it just might.

As soon as they thought they had her down, settled into her crib, white noise machine whirring, and began to sneak out of the room, the baby would begin to wail, upset at finding herself left alone.

On darker days, Mike found himself wondering from which parent she’d inherited her clear terror of abandonment.

It wasn’t that Mike would rather endure his daughter’s sobs, his heart broke every time her little lip so much as wobbled, but did it really have to be—

“Him?” he hissed, not bothering to keep his voice down. So what if Ruby had been quiet the whole time he’d been home and this woke her up again? Apparently, they’d hired a goddamn Cuban manny without Mike even realizing. God, how long had he been at the grocery store? “Ginny, Jesus! You called him? To our house? Where we live?”

"Neither of us are gonna be living here much longer if we can’t get Ruby to sleep through the night! We’re gonna lose our minds, Lawson,” she hissed right back, albeit at a far more reasonable volume. Any louder, though, and Mike was sure she might’ve just given in and yelled. Clearly, neither of them were at their best tonight.

Well, at least he wasn’t the only one entertaining that possibility. Maybe going crazy wouldn’t be so bad if Ginny was in it with him. It sent a funny wave of warmth rushing through him; he really did love this woman. Wouldn’t trade her or her ability to understand him for anything, not even a solid eight hours.

“Besides,” Ginny continued, apparently oblivious to the rush of affection she’d just inspired in her husband, or she wouldn’t ask, “who else should I have called?”

“Anyone!” Mike was aware there was a distinct whine to his voice, but he didn’t really care.

Out of all the people she could have asked to come lend a hand, (Blip and Ev, Salvi, Al and, weirdly because he had no kids of his own, Omar all had pretty good track records with Ruby, even if only for short periods. They were better than what Ginny and Mike were currently managing. Some other time, when Mike’s brain wasn’t shrouded in a haze of sleep deprivation, he would feel worse about the fact that his baby only went to sleep for men who weren’t him.) she had to pick the smirking asshole who’d taken his job.

After he retired on his own terms, of course, but it still fucking rankled.

She rolled her eyes. “You never complain when Omar babysits.”

Which was—

Well, absolutely true. But for good reasons!

For one, Omar had never set himself up as the Baby Whisperer, easily getting Ruby to cooperate and fall asleep where neither of her parents could. Omar definitely hadn’t looked up at Mike’s entrance into the nursery, baby cradled peacefully in his arms, smirked, and said, “Heard you needed my help, old man.”

Because for two, Mike actually scared Omar.

That’d never been true of Livan.

Of course, now Livan had even less reason to be afraid. He had an ace in the hole.

The kid loved him. She loved lots of things—strained carrots and her stuffed turtle, Ginny’s dimples and his beard—but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she loved Livan Duarte.

It was a bit of a sore point.

Even before this latest bout of sleeplessness, Ruby always lit up whenever the Cuban catcher happened to walk by when Mike took her to Petco to visit Ginny. Livan, in turn, was slightly less obnoxious while interacting with Ruby; he grinned rather than smirked and it didn’t matter if he spoke to her in crooning Spanish because it wasn’t like she really understood him anyway.

If it were anyone else, Mike would’ve been happy to admit Ruby babbling in excitement as she was danced around the Padres’ clubhouse was pretty fucking cute.

Except it was Livan and, seriously, fuck that guy.

Still, Mike didn’t really have much interest in delving into his lingering resentment and jealousy of the guy who’d taken his job.

So, he replied, “Because Omar’s not gonna teach our kid Spanish pickup lines before she can even walk.”

Ginny laughed, a short, almost hysterical sound that immediately had Mike catching hold of her hands to draw her in close. She took the invitation gratefully, but didn’t collapse against him the way he really wanted. She held herself up, looking him straight in the eye as she asked, “What did you want me to do? Neither of us have slept for more than an hour at a time all week.”

“She’s just reverse cycling,” he tried, feeble and well aware of it.

Sensing the flicker in his resolve, Ginny shifted her grip and twined their fingers together. The cool, platinum band of her wedding ring against his skin flicked a switch somewhere deep in his gut. Immediately, his hammering heart rate dropped, the flood of anger and desperation leaking away. She looked up at him, big, brown eyes weighted down by heavy shadows. Mike doubted his were much better.

“I’m this close to losing it, Lawson,” she said, honesty and a little shame coating her words. Automatically, he squeezed her hand, bringing a flicker of a smile to her face. Still, Ginny shook her head. “Livan’s the only one to reliably get her to stay down for more than an hour or two at a time, and she’s so little. She needs to sleep. If that means he has more opportunity to push your buttons, I’m willing to put up with it.”

“Because it’s not your buttons he’s pushing,” he muttered.

“Mike,” she pleaded, pressing her forehead into his shoulder and otherwise sagging against him. His arm wrapped around her waist, support and comfort all at once. He marveled, not for the first time, that in six months she’d already worked off all the baby weight. He didn’t necessarily miss the extra softness, though it’d been nice while it was there. Honestly, he loved Ginny any way he could have her. Besides. Her rack? Still phenomenal. A fact he could appreciate all the better with her pressed to him. He did manage to drag his thoughts out of the gutter to listen to the rest of her request. “I need to sleep. We need to sleep.”

She sounded so exhausted, so close to throwing in the towel in a way he wasn’t used to, not from Ginny fucking Baker, that he immediately caved.

“I know,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles up and down her back. Ginny sighed, and Mike was sure that if he kept it up, they’d fall asleep standing right there in the hall, mere steps from their bedroom. When her arms came up to wrap around his waist, and she snuggled in, warm and close and perfect, he thought he might not even mind.

Except, that was the moment Livan chose to emerge from the nursery, cradling their sleeping baby—the love of Mike’s life right alongside her mother—and smirking that insufferable smirk of his. He raised a brow at the position he found them in, but otherwise managed to keep his thoughts to himself.

“Mami,” he murmured, low and concerned enough that Mike felt a stab of affection rush through him; anyone who cared about Ginny that much couldn’t be all terrible, “I thought I was here to babysit. Let you and the old man get some sleep. What are you still doing up?”

Ginny pulled away and any charitable thoughts Mike might have harbored went up like so much smoke.

“We’re going, we’re going,” she replied, tugging on Mike’s hand, to lead him to their room. He followed along, only a little grudging.

“You sure it had to be him?” he muttered, low enough to seem like he didn’t mean for Livan to hear it while still making absolutely sure he did.

Ginny just squeezed his hand. Livan, though, hadn’t quite learned when to keep his trap shut.

“Don’t be mad, Lawson,” he said, that god damn smirk somehow audible. “Your girl’s just got good taste.”

Whether he meant Ruby or her mother was up for debate. Neither option left Mike feeling warm or fuzzy, though.

He glared but still allowed Ginny to pull him away, into their dark bedroom. Which was made only darker when she shut the door, cutting off the hall light and any more snark from their babysitter.

Smart move.

In the dark with just his wife to worry about—for all his faults, Livan could handle a sleeping baby on his own—the world seemed to slow down. Mike wasn’t quite so aware of the way his pulse rushed in his ears, became more attuned to Ginny’s quiet breaths filling the space, the warmth of her hand still clasped in his.

At the foot of the bed, she turned back to him. Her hands skated up his arms, over his shoulders, fingers finally lacing behind his neck to hold him just where she wanted.

Mike waited.

Not for long.

In the weak light filtering in through the windows, she leaned up to press a less than chaste kiss against his mouth. It didn’t take much convincing for MIke to sink into it, even with a cocky Cuban somewhere outside their door.

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d done more than swig mouthwash; Ginny’s tongue was curled around his, sweet as the first time he’d ever kissed her. For the first time in weeks, Mike was at his leisure to reciprocate, working a hand into his wife’s—God, he was never gonna get tired of that; Ginny Baker was his goddamn wife—hair and drawing her in close. She came eagerly, leaning against him the way she had in the hall, though there was nothing weary about her now. She licked eagerly into him, rising on her tiptoes to get her own taste.

For once, nothing interrupted the moment.

For once, Mike got to languidly undress Ginny, fingertips skimming over miles of smooth, brown skin, and enjoy her hands against his arms and chest and thighs as she did the same for him.

And, yeah, once they made it into bed, they were too fucking tired to do much more than curl together and lazily kiss until their eyes and lips grew too heavy to do anything other than give in to the heady call of sleep. But Mike wasn’t going to complain.

Sure, it was Livan playing babysitter to his daughter, but there were worse things in the world. Especially since it meant Mike was going to wake up after a full night’s sleep with Ginny Baker in his arms. Maybe, come morning, they’d even be able to finish what they started. A little morning sex would more than cancel out putting up with a smirking Cuban in his house.

Plus, once he was properly rested, Mike could start coming up with some appropriate payback. Livan could joke about Ginny’s, or Ruby’s as yet unproven, taste in men all he wanted.

Just like Mike could bribe his former teammates to replace all of Livan’s expensive hair products with glitter-infused knockoffs.

He chuckled in spite of himself.

From her place draped over his chest, Ginny let out a sleepy sigh, nuzzling her cheek over his heart as she settled more firmly against him. Mike didn’t bother reining in his beaming smile as he dropped one last kiss on her forehead and closed his eyes, arms tightening around the love of his life.

Didn’t matter how satisfying it would eventually be; payback could wait. He had something much better to focus on now.

#bawson #bawson fic #pitch #pitch fic #i wrote something #i am 95% sure #all of my kidfic #takes place in the same time line #i haven't gone back to check #re: continuity #but from now on #that's what i'm thinking

31 notes · View notes