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#she hardly even speaks to the professors but is usually locked away in her own studies for her own self advancements
nashibirne · 3 years
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Intellectual Stimulation
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This is a follow-up to my first Mike fic (My Best Mistake), which was a huge flop 🙈 but I hope you like the second part better...if so, please leave me a comment, reblog or like 💜 You can read this without knowing part 1 though!
Pairing: Mike x y/n
Summary: Mike wants to impress his girlfriend by being a little more sophisticated
Words: ~ 1.8 k
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, unprotected sex, dry humping, vaginal sex, creampie, creampie eating
NO BETA! English is not my mother tongue, so expect bad grammar, wrong spelling, chaotic punctuation and clumsy language. All mistakes are mine…
Credits: I don’t own anything related to Hellraiser: Hellworld! A huge thank you to @nix-akimbo for the edit of Mike with glasses. I loved using it for the moodboard, the other pics are from pinterest. I don't know who invented Professor Cavill, but credits to you too because I briefly mention him in this story. I quote parts of "The Picture Of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde.
You can find my other fics on my masterlist.
Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added or removed)
@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81 @emelinelovesjc @wheretheriversrunintothesea @lam0ureuxq
Off we go...
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Premise: Mike and his girlfriend have been together for a few months now and everything could be perfect if there wasn't that one little problem called Professor Cavill. He's y/n's lecturer in English literature and she talks about that boomer with the good looks and the tweed jackets and the dad jeans way too often. Plus Mike has seen the way the old debaucher looks at y/n when they meet him on campus. So in short, Mike is annoyed with the guy who seems to be some kind of intellectual superman, especially because he can't keep up with him. Not a bit. When he met y/n for the first time he impressed her by reciting a poem but unfortunately it is the only poem he knows. He isn't sophisticated and although y/n keeps telling him she doesn't care he feels bad and decides to do something about it.
I take a look around the room one last time and yes, everything looks perfect. It's clean and tidy, I made the beds with fresh sheets, I placed some very pretty flowers on my desk and most importantly, I bought a huge box of vintage books plus a special item at a rummage sale. The books are strategically placed in the room in little piles - beside the bed, on the shelf, on the little table beside my sofa and on the floor in the corner of the room. The special item is sitting on my nose and I really hope y/n is not going to burst laughing when she sees me.
Where is she anyway? Late of course, as usual. I take one of the books and open it to read the first pages again. I want to be prepared in the best way possible. The book is old and the cover looks strange but cool. Antiquated of course but still somehow modern with the half-rotten scull and the snobby looking guy printed in black and gold on it. Very avant-garde, Professor Dickhead would say I guess, artsy-fartsy I say.
When I hear the key in the front door I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and turn around with a big smile.
"I'm sorry, I know I'm late. I missed my bus." She returns my smile, hardly looking at me because she has problems with removing her key from the lock. "You really have to change the lock, baby. One day my key will break off."
"Sure. First thing tomorrow, sweet cheeks."
She looks at me, surprised by the enthusiasm in my voice and now, on second sight, she sees it.
"Mike! Oh my god…", she says, covering her mouth with her hands, "what the fuck? You look great!"
"You like it?" I give her a smirk and step closer to greet her with a soft kiss on her pretty lips.
"I love it! But why? I mean...you don't need glasses. I'm confused." She laughs light-heartedly and I grin. "It's just clear glass. I thought you might like me looking a little more sophisticated." I wiggle my head with a grin and she smiles, cupping my face with her hands. "I love you just the way you are, but I have to admit the glasses are damn sexy on you." She gets on her toes to kiss me and I hug her tightly.
"So what are we up to tonight? You said you have special plans for us?"
"Just take a look around, I'm sure you can figure it out." I plop down on the sofa and look at her expectantly.
"Umm...well. You tidied up your mess…"
"Yep. But there's more."
"Fresh sheets...wait...the books. You don't have so many books," she giggles before taking a closer look at one of the piles. "Out of Africa?" She raises her eyebrows and I grin.
"Some are for the heart, some are for the brain." I grab the artsy book and show it to her.
"Ooh...I adore Oscar Wilde. The Picture of Dorian Gray is my favorite!"
"I know, you mentioned it when you were talking about Professor Know-it-all's class the other day."
She rolls her eyes and it looks fucking cute. No, wait, it looks absolutely enchanting! I should adapt my vocabulary to my new look.
"Is this about Professor Cavill? Are you still jealous?"
"I'm not a bit jealous but I thought it wouldn't hurt to broaden my horizon by reading some classics and if you want to, we could read some stuff to each other and talk about it? Like our own private book club. What do you think, babe?"
"That's a great idea. Count me in." She kisses me again before cocking her head, looking at me with a smirk. "Fuck, these glasses really suit you, baby. You look so hot..."
"Please, Miss. Show me a little respect. I want to be desired for my keen intellect, not for my extraordinary good looks", I joke with an exaggerated frown.
"Idiot!" Y/n laughs out loud and nudges me playfully, "so you're all brains today, huh? Then bring it on. Read to me like one of your french girls." She plops down beside me and I snicker at her Titanic reference. I love the movie -don't you dare tell anyone-, and she hates it because she finds it boring but she still watches it with me whenever I'm in the mood for it. Okay….she usually falls asleep with her head in my lap after 15 minutes but it's the thought that counts and in return I do some cultural stuff with her, exhibitions and such. We went to a vernissage last week and to a reading in a bookstore the other day. So, you see... it's high time for some intellectual stimulation.
"Of course. Let's see what we've got here", I splay my fingers in an affected manner and grab the frame of my glasses with my thumb and middle finger to adjust them before I clear my throat and start to read, putting an extra dark timbre into my voice.
"The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn."
I look up from the book to see that y/n obviously likes my reading voice. She seems captivated and I like the way she gazes at me so adoringly. "Go on", she says softly and I continue.
"From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs;"
I read the first few pages and I start to like both, the book and the growing erotic tension between me and y/n. She moves closer to me with every paragraph. After I turn the pages for the first time I feel her hand on my thigh, after I do it for the second time she starts to stroke me through my jeans and I sigh before I concentrate on the poetic words again. While Lord Henry and Basil Hallward talk about bane and boon of extraordinary talent, brains and beauty, I get hard under her touch. I stop reading to kiss her but she shakes her head and nods at the book. "No. Go on, Mike. Read." Her voice is thick with desire now and it turns me on even more but I give her what she wants.
"“Harry,”said Basil Hallward, looking him straight in the face, “every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself."
I moan when y/n decides to straddle my lap. She hitches up her boho style maxi skirt before she sits down and all that's between my hard-on and her sweet pussy now is the delicate lace of her panties and the thick fabric of my jeans. The sexy crochet bralette top she wears is not really helpful. Just Oscar Wilde separates me from her spectacular breasts right now. I'm about to put the book aside but she stops me again. "Keep reading." She rubs herself over my boner and looks me in the eyes with a teasing smile. I think this is a promising start to whatever is going to follow and so I go on and on. She's dry humping me now with slow motions, rolling her hips, riding me with closed eyes. I moan again, I'm so turned on I can hardly speak anymore but I try my very best to keep my girl entertained.
"I turned half-way round and saw Dorian Gray for the first time. When our eyes met, I felt that I was growing pale. A curious sensation of terror came over me. I knew that I had come face to face with someone whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself."
And that's it. That's the moment of escalation. We are no longer able to control ourselves and y/n takes the book from my hands and throws it away carelessly before she starts to kiss me with a passion I've never tasted on her tongue before. While we make out like love-crazed predators she opens my belt and my fly and she lifts her butt to allow me to get rid of my pants and boxers. She takes off her top and I push her panties aside, feeling how wet she already is. Wet and eager to take my cock. She sinks down onto my dick slowly and the feeling of stretching her tight pussy is as sensational as ever. I grab her ass and knead her juicy cheeks while kissing and sucking her boobs and her hard nipples. I know how much it turns her on when I bite those little rosy buds and caress her breasts, one time she even came when I took real good care of her tits while she was jerking me off.
But today she rides me and I thrust into her hot core with strong movements, rocking my pelvis rhythmically, and we kiss passionately while my hands roam all over her body. I can tell she's about to come by her breath that's going fast and by the naughty little things she whispers hoarsely into my ear. "Yes, babe...fuck me hard, fuck me rough," and "deeper, Mike, I need your dick deeper" or "I'm so close. Can you feel how close I am?" When she stops moving because she cums with a long, drawn sigh, her body trembling, her cunt clenching around my dick, I hug her tightly, pressing her down, forcing her to take even more of me and after a few fast thrusts I cum too, filling her up with my seed and I can't wait to see it drip from her pussy.
I know it sounds a bit pervy but I love to see the mess I've made and to taste our mixed juices on my tongue. She climbs down from my lap and lays down beside me with spread legs and I bend down to lick her dripping cunt clean, lapping everything up with slow, sensual licks while y/n plays with my dark curls, enjoying the sensation of my tongue between her legs.
When we are lying in my bed cuddled up at each other a few minutes later y/n kisses me tenderly. "I'll need you to read to me like this every day now." I smirk and wink at her. "With the glasses?"
"With the glasses", she giggles and her soft laughter sounds the bell for the next chapter of our intellectual stimulation.
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rohad93 · 4 years
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Moonlit Masquerade: Ch 2
If Luz was honest, her illusion classes were fun, especially since she shared them with Gus, but she wasn’t very good at them, despite her flair for the dramatic and natural affinity for a certain kind of showmanship.  
Though it wasn’t appreciated back home if her audition for Romeo and Juliet was anything to go by. 
Theater was supposed to be dramatic! 
Instead, it only landed her in the principal’s office.  
Gus was way more advanced than her in class, obviously, since she couldn't do any of the actual spells, but she did excel in the book portion of the class. She didn’t need a magic bile sac to read. 
All that reading came in handy too, one of her books had some diagrams in them that looked suspiciously like glyphs to her. Playing with them on paper she had discovered that one of them was. The whole class had turned to look at her when she’d made that discovery, because she had let out a shrill screech of excitement. She’d almost forgotten about it with all the stuff that had been going on the last week.
By drawing the symbol on paper and placing it on any part of her body, and concentrating on what she wanted it to do, she could cast an illusion of her choosing over herself. She hadn’t yet discovered any practical uses for it, and it was always fairly small, but it was fun to play with. She could cast small illusions over objects too. The illusion lasted as long as the parchment stayed intact with her skin.
She traced the symbol on some paper, tongue poking out in concentration till she was satisfied with the result. With her other hand she concentrated and tapped the inked symbol, a faint blue glow surrounded her fingers before fading to reveal her clawed hand. She grinned to herself and looked up at Gus, who was watching her with rapt attention. She bared her teeth and made a clawing motion at him, sending the younger witch into a barely restrained laughing fit. She giggled along with him
Now, this would have really gotten her sent to the principal and for an actually decent reason. 
With a twirl of his finger, Gus’s hands morphed to match hers and he growled back, trying to look fierce but both of them fell into a laughing fit before the teacher shot them a warning look.
She’d need to share this one with Eda later, though there was no telling what uses she might come up with to use it for.  
...Probably smuggling things…yeah, that sounded like Eda.
Any classes she shared with her friends always seemed to fly by much too quickly for Luz, even if the material itself wasn't always very exciting… or she got into trouble by messing around with her friends because the material wasn't exciting, either way, class always seemed to flash by.
The bell screamed and she jumped up, shouldering her bag. The second half of her Tuesday meant abominations with Amity. She grinned to herself as she jogged through the halls, carefully dodging other students as she dashed down the hall. Abominations 101 was in a different section of the school and if she walked she was always late. The last thing she wanted was the teacher and Amity scolding her.  
Amity always saved the other seat at her table for her though, no matter how late she was. 
She was always excited to have class with her friends, but for some reason she was extra excited to get to abominations today, she was thrumming with energy. well, more than she usually was. She wasn’t exactly sure why, if she had to guess though she was just excited to talk to Amity, the witch had been flittering on and off her mind since she’d left the library yesterday. If she thought about it hard enough she could still feel where the witch’s arms had squeezed around her shoulders and her breath had whispered against her neck. The thought caused an involuntary shiver to ripple through her. 
She was a very touchy feely person, but nothing had ever caused that response before. She rubbed a hand over the goosebumps that had erupted across the back of her neck with a thoughtful frown. 
She hadn’t really allowed herself to show how heavily destroying the portal had weighed on her in front of Eda or Willow and Gus when they had come over the day after they had escaped the Emperor. She didn’t want to bring them down or make Eda feel bad, not that she had any reason too. She’d made that mess, so it was up to her to fix it, no matter the personal cost; it was her responsibility to fix her mess. 
Though that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt. 
She hadn’t meant to let Amity see her down yesterday, but with just the two of them, alone in her secret room, those soft, gold eyes trained on her she had just… forgotten. 
Willow and Gus were easy to talk to, they knew what to say and were the calm to her bursting at the seams energy… 
Well, Willow was calm. Gus was still easy to talk to though!
That being said, it was just so easy to tell Amity things she supposed, to let her guard down completely. She always listened so intently and Luz just kinda forgot herself when they talked, things she normally wouldn't say had had a tendency to just spill out in her presence.  
True to form Amity hadn't looked at her with pity or anything but kindness and understanding. That small touch of her hand conveyed a lot, and thinking about it now made Luz grin as she skittered around the corner, heading straight for her class.
She skidded to a halt just inside the door, glancing around the room before her eyes fell on a familiar head of mint green hair. 
Amity's face was buried in a large, worn looking tome as Luz approached, her eyes scanning over the yellowed pages intently.
"Hey, Amity," she greeted, making the witch jump. Wide gold eyes whipped upward to look at her in surprise. 
“Oh, Luz, you’re here, like you said you’d be!” she exclaimed, face taking on a light pink hue as Luz sat her bag on the table and plopped herself in the empty seat next to Amity. She must have really surprised her to make her turn that color. 
“Yup!” She grinned, popping the ‘p’. “Whatcha looking at?” She glanced over at the large book that Amity had been so engrossed in.
“Oh, it’s a book about ancient, wild magic.” She closed the book to show the cover, which to Luz’s amazement was covered in designs that reminded her a lot of her glyphs. 
“Oooh..” 
Amity couldn’t help but smile at the starstruck look in Luz’s eyes as she peered at the book; the reaction she had been hoping for. Luz’s love for magic was as predictable as the rising of the sun. She could feel her face further heat up as she slid the book across the table to Luz.
“I brought it for you,” she managed to say without combusting, which was a remarkable achievement in and of itself if she did say so herself. 
“For me?” Luz’s bright brown eyes widened comically but Amity could only find the expression adorable, even as she tried to stamp down the stray thought that only furthered the heat in her cheeks. 
“Y-yeah, I found it in my family’s library and I thought it might be useful to you.” She gave a half shrug, as her eyes darted away from Luz’s.
Finally, and unbeknownst to her, mercifully, Luz turned her eyes away from Amity to look closer at the clearly ancient book that had been shoved under her nose, it’s hardened leather cover engraved with runes and strange symbols that could almost be glyphs. It was smooth and warm under her fingertips
“Wow,” she breathed, leafing briefly through the pages, she’d have to wait till after school to really look at it. “Thank you so much Amity!” She turned back to look at her, eyes locking as Amity had been watching her as she inspected the book.
“Sure, yeah, of course, no problem, keep it as long as you want,” she rattled off, glancing away and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 
Luckily for Amity the bell finally screamed, signalling the beginning of class. Luz slipped the book into her bag and turned back to face the abominations professor as he began class. 
She was so excited to get home and look through the book she hardly heard a thing the teacher was saying, but she tried, she really did. Abominations were one of Luz's harder classes since summoning them was entirely dependent on a spell circle, for which she did not yet have a glyph for, but she did practice creating the formulas for the abominations. Her classmates, usually Amity, would then summon it from the pot of goo for her to see if it was right. She was making steady progress in that bit. They did sometimes come out a little misshapen or with extra limbs, but hey, she was working on it.
Maybe the book Amity had given her would help her discover a glyph for it, from what she could figure, the Blight's had a history of witches that specialized in abominations. 
Speaking of, she glanced over just in time to catch the witch in question looking at her, with a small smile. Luz grinned at her and the girl jolted like she had been shocked before quickly facing forward again, cheeks reddening. Luz just grinned harder.
It was cute.
The second she realized what she had just thought Luz jerked up in her seat, blinking owlishly at her own thoughts. 
What?
Where had that come from?
She glanced at the other girl out of the corner of her eye, watching as she quickly jotted down notes while the professor walked around the room lecturing about the proper proportions for abomination slurry. The skin between her brows was furrowed in concentration as she quickly filled a page with rapidly taken, but beautifully written notes.  
She guessed... objectively speaking, Amity was cute, she admitted to herself. 
She thought of the book tucked away in her bag, she was kind too, once they’d cleared up all their initial misunderstandings. 
As top student, she was smart too.  
Also cool. 
And really good at grudgeby, she was a great dancer too… 
Luz felt her face heat up some as her mind kept supplying her with things.
Wait, what?!
She didn’t hear much the professor said after that, she was so busy trying to decipher her own thoughts. She must have sat their for a while.
“Luz?” The quiet whisper of her name made her jerk, glancing in the direction of the sound, where Amity was looking at her with concern. “Are you okay? You’re a little flushed.”
That of course only made her face hotter.
“Pshh, yea, of course!” she waved away her friend’s concerns. “Just… a little warm is all.” She smiled, tugging at the collar of her uniform. The smile on her face felt forced even to herself, though if Amity noticed she said nothing about it, she didn’t look at all convinced though, but she gave a little nod before turning back to her notes and what the teacher was saying. 
Had her eyes always been such a bright shade of gold?
‘What is wrong with me today?’ She thought herself as she slumped down in her chair. 
Unlike any other day the rest of her day seemed to drag by, especially her interactions with Amity, which for once she was glad were few and far between as today seemed to be a lecture day. 
The moment the final bell rang out Luz jumped up, saying a quick bye to Amity with the excuse that Eda needed her help with something right after school. Usually she dawdled behind on Tuesdays so the two could talk a little as they walked out to the front, but today she just had to get some space. 
“Oh, bye, Luz,” Amity was left saying as the human booked it for the door without a second look, but she didn’t let her thoughts linger on it for more than a moment, Luz was eccentric at the best of times after all.
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ferretandtheweasel · 3 years
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Ginny:
What the heck was his problem? No seriously, Ginny Weasley wanted to know. Granted, she was in the wrong class (by mistake, mind you!) and she was just as embarrassed as anyone would have been in her situation but that hardly warranted the scornful look he had on his face upon seeing her. She wasn't exactly thrilled to be in Malfoy's company either, Merlin knew the memory of that day tortured her as much as it annoyed him but she didn't go around acting disdainful towards him. Okay sure, it had been a brief connection, eye to eye, steely grey met her own honey brown, but his look stung her in her chest for some reason, it was a look accusing her of being in the same room as him, as if she wanted that! Leaving potions class, after quickly making apologies before Snape could use her momentary blunder to take points off of Gryffindor, she tried to make sense of her dilemma.
So yeah, why was Malfoy being an utter twat, more than usual, you ask? Well, it all came down to that one fateful day when she was out with her class in the forbidden forest. Dumbledore had announced a compulsory program for year 4 and aboves, they were meant to form groups and with teachers' supervision, would have to spend 5 days learning camping skills. Apparently the ministry of magic thought that students had become too "lazy" and needed more outdoor activities. She didn't even know what Draco was doing there in the first place since his class was supposed to have their camping exercise later but who cares now. All she remembers is that somehow she'd walked right into him sitting near a lake reading a book. And before you ask, she was initially going to ignore him and walk back to the camp, because believe it or not she wasn't particularly interested in talking to him, plus she had wandered off a bit too far in her search for food, and she wanted to go back to her friends when he spotted her and made a rude comment.
Here's the thing you should know about Ginny Weasley, she had that infamous Weasley temper (which she's working on, come on now give a girl a break please), but yeah she can get exceptionally hot headed when she's hungry... and she was very hungry that day hunting for food, so she may have been particularly nasty towards him and may have said something about his upbringing. Listen, he was rude first, she just returned the favour. That kind of started their age old tradition of insulting each other and somehow she and Malfoy ended up in close proximity, somewhere during their shouting match. She doesn't really remember how but it's possible that she may have been the one to shove him first, in her defense, he had insulted her mother's annual Weasley jumpers so she had to do something. That is definitely how both she and him, ended up in the lake and here's the thing, she kinda doesn't recall much of what happened afterwards, because he did look like a snack alright. It's because his white shirt was wet and it was see through, so she had a moment of weakness, may her ancestors forgive her. So yeah, she may have looked at him a certain way, but he was at fault too, he was giving her looks that did things to her heart and elsewhere in her body, his cool silver locks fell over his molten grey eyes and she was sure her heart probably stopped beating at the sight. She can't explain it.
Merlin knew that moment is exactly where her mind was wandering off to, when today she had accidentally, walked into professor Snape's potion lecture when she was meant to be attending charms for year 6 in a different building! No no no, this would not do. Ginny would have to take control of her mind that kept wandering to that day- ugh! There it was again, she was trying NOT to think about it but somehow the memory of Draco's soft lips descending upon hers, his slender hands slowly making their way down her body, her arms pulling him closer and their tongues locking in a passionate embrace.... yeah, that memory won't leave her alone.
It... It felt like he'd done something to her, like that kiss had changed something fundamental in her, she couldn't look in the mirror without thinking of his kiss. She could still imagine it, picture it, taste it even if she closed her eyes long enough... It felt as though he had tattooed that kiss on her lips and it will never go away.
The point is, yeah, she had been affected by that sudden kiss, but she wasn't going around the school being grumpy and passing him dirty looks. She was feeling tortured inside but she was acting indifferent and trying her hardest to forget everything that had transpired between them because unlike a certain irritating man, she didn't want people to suspect anything. She was sure he was disgusted by their kiss, but could he act more mature about everything please? Because she was trying her hardest to ignore him but his constant remarks every time they crossed paths, his eyes which dug holes in her back and his scathing looks were making it very difficult for Ginny Weasley to forget what they'd done in forbidden forest.
Just last evening she was trying her hardest to concentrate on her homework in the library, she had to read each sentence several times to get it through her head, that's how much Malfoy's presence had started to affect her. As she was trying and failing to concentrate, a loud thud from the other table rang throughout the quiet room, making everyone snap their heads in his direction. Malfoy was grumpily packing his books to leave the the library, giving her a murderous look as if everything was her fault somehow he left. She wished things could go back to normal somehow, but what was normal for them, ignoring each other? Or going back at each others throats? It was all very confusing.
Draco:
Merlin! She was doing this on purpose wasn't she, "accidentally" walked into potions, yeah right! How was he supposed to forget the mistake they'd made if she kept showing up everywhere, looking like... that! What was wrong with him? She must have put some kind of spell on him to torment him. Yes, that made sense, because why else on Merlin's earth would he, Draco Malfoy, find her agreeable. It was worse, he found her more than agreeable, those damn red hair, they enchanted him how they flew with the wind as she rode her broom during a match or when they partially covered her face in the dining hall while she would talk to her friends, tempting him to abandon all common sense and run his fingers through them to tuck them behind her ears. Fascinating, how those silky strands danced on her button nose when she was working on her homework in the library until she ended up putting them in a messy bun, which made her look adora— Mental!
She looked mental, she was a weasel afterall. Draco was frustrated, he was tired and most importantly he was angry, how was it that one kiss, one moment of relapse in judgement on his part could change things between him and a nobody like her so much so that here he was, all rewired somehow sitting in potions thinking about her red hair!! Was this how it was going to be from now on, she would just walk into a room and just like that, all logical thoughts in his mind would go out of the window, he would be transported to that singular moment of his life when her honey brown eyes looked up at him right after their kiss, in surprise and... shock. When she had moved her fingers to touch her lips in astonishment, innocent brown eyes looking up to him in confusion, hesitation, wonder? and then they had heard Pansy calling out for him which had made them both snap back into reality. Within moments, they were out of the lake, unspoken agreement that whatever happened, didn't happen.
And now here he was days, weeks later trying his best to be the old Draco, except it seemed like he didn't know what in the name of Salazar he was supposed do in a situation like this? All he knew was that she was suddenly everywhere, in the dining hall, on school premises, in the quidditch training pitch but most importantly, on his mind! That was the worst place she had occupied, it made it impossible for him to function anywhere. She had ruined his peaceful quiet reading spot because he couldn't go there anymore without thinking back to what they did, without imagining 'what if' scenarios, what if Pansy hadn't come to looking for him? What if Ginny wasn't a Weasley, what if he wasn't a Malfoy? Merlin! His ancestors were all probably rolling in their graves right about now.
"Weasley's sure got a nice arse"
Crabbe's loud observation almost made him want to hex the guy but miraculously, at the last minute his self preservation skills kicked in and he was able to keep his cool. He wished Ron Weasley had heard it right now, he would not only shut them up but also provide quality entertainment while doing so. Seriously, if Merlin was about to put him through Crabbe and Goyle's disgusting comments about Ginny Weasley's arse then, he would have no other option but to jump from the astronomy tower maybe, because no way in hell was he going to sit here as Crabbe and Goyle discussed her. Besides, her arse was just okay, like it wasn't all that special or anything. It wasn't big or small, just the normal size... if he was forced to comment on it, he would say it was pert, well-shaped probably because of all the quidditch training she did, it was perfectly round and firm, and frankly speaking, made to fit right in his palms. It wasn't his attraction speaking, no, it was just an objective fact that her arse fits in his hands, he knew that because he'd had the chance to grab it when they had kissed that day. Of their own accord, His hands itched to do touch her again —
"Woah, relax mate, you're gonna break that thing."
Draco looked at where Blaise was pointing and realised he was about to snap the beaker full of potion, he relaxed his hands and exhaled a sigh he didn't know he had been holding. What was that bint doing to him, he was going insane. Zabini didn't press him on what was going on and he was grateful for that. Instead he read more instructions and kept on working on THEIR class project, something they were supposed to do together! Had Draco not been so out of focus lately he would have helped out, but as it happened, a certain foul-mouthed, red-haired, brown-eyed gryffindor was on his mind and everything in life was upside down.
~
When Draco and Ginny fall into a lake in the forbidden forest, it ends up in an unexpected event. One moment they're arguing, honouring their ancestral family rivalry... the next they're locked in a passionate embrace neither saw coming. What happens now? Where do they go from here? How the heck did it even happen? Merlin, help them.
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wreckofawriter · 4 years
Text
Heartbeat
Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader
Warnings: Swearing, Angst
Summary: This is based off 'Points Scored' on my fanfic vote. Sirius and others play a game to see who can sleep with reader first.
An: Sorry for not writting!
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"Beat that, fuckers!" Sirius exclaimed busting through the door.
Avery and Mulciber were seated, they looked at him with nervous excitement that they couldn't quite describe. 
Sirius then threw a lacy bra onto the table proceeding to bow as the other two boys glanced down at the fabric. 
"Don't tell me that’s-" 
"That's right, Grace Huddleston!" Sirius beamed. 
"No way!" Avery complained, "She wouldn't even come within ten feet of us!" 
"That's because you’re slimy gits, not the smooth and handsome Sirius Black." He grinned enjoying the distraught looks of his associates.
Mulciber rolled his eyes and glanced down at the sheet, "As impressive as that is Black, you’re still losing." 
"What?! How?! She's worth 10 points!" He said completely aghast. 
"Yes, but while you did that I scored Narcissa and Andromeda, both 6 points," Avery smirked.
"My cousins you sick fuck? I thought we agreed on no family?" He growled. 
"Yes, we agreed on no DIRECT family, and since neither of us wants to fuck your brother I'd say we're fine." Mulciber smiled. 
"Fuck you guys," Sirius muttered plopping down onto a chair examine the chart they had made. He was indeed behind Avery by 7 points and only ahead of Mulciber by 3. The game was ending at the end of the month, leaving him only two weeks to pull ahead. This would have been easy if Avery wasn't scoring points fast enough to keep his lead.
"If you actually want a chance to win I say you go for one of the big two." Avery sneered.
There were two names at the bottom of their little chart, each worth 30 points, an amount which would pull Sirius far enough to win. 
The first name scrawled in Mulciber’s not so impressive handwriting read. ‘Lily Evans’. 
Now, of course, Sirius would never go for that one. For one, the thought of sleeping with Evan's made him sick, for another even if he managed to somehow seduce her, James would kill him before he even got his points redeemed. 
Sirius rolled his eyes, "You guys know that they are impossible." 
"I thought you were the Great Sirius Black?" Mulciber mocked. 
"Or was that all talk?" Avery grinned. 
"Fine." Sirius huffed, "Just don’t come crying for your money back when I win." 
"If you win Black. If." 
"You know what, let's make it more interesting," Sirius smirked, "Since all of us know I'm not gonna go for Evans, how about whoever can sleep with y/l/n first wins? No time limit, just racing against each other. Whoever gets her first wins?" 
Avery and Mulciber glanced at each other. 
"Or are you guys too scared?" Sirius jeered. 
"Fine." Avery agreed "We're in." 
You glared down the girl in front of you, almost begging her to do what you knew she was planning.
“Oops.” Marlen drawled sarcastically pouring the cup of pumpkin juice delicately onto your head.
You didn't flinch, your heart still sustaining its soft, steady beat. You swiped your tongue out onto your lips humming at the taste of the spiced gourde.
Marlen stared at you, you could tell that this was not what she was used to. She was used to girls screaming or bursting into tears. Of course, you did not fulfill these expectations.
“You’re going to regret that Mckinnon.” You murmerd a signature smirk still twitching on your lips.
You saw her eyes flash with fear before darting around and resetting on your own.
“Oh, are you going to write to mommy and daddy about it, they're gonna fix it for you? Or are you gonna break your psycho uncle out of Azkaban and have him kill us?” She smiled sweetly, the sugar that coated everything she did made you want to vomit.
“Don't worry you'll see him in there soon enough.” She giggled; a ridiculously sharp noise.
“Do not ever compare me to my family.” You growled.
“Oooohh, I'm terrified.” She mocked although you could read the truth in her eyes, the truth she would never share with the girls who were crowded around you. 
“You do it again and I won't have to break out my uncle to kill you.” Your voice was so low the girl you were speaking to could hardly hear it.
“Don’t worry I’ll put you where you belong, behind bars.” 
Her smile and the girls laughs only lasted for a short second. 
You heard a loud crunch as your knuckles connected with her nose, a sharp yell of pain echoed through the corridor followed quickly by gasps and screams. 
You hissed at the pain your hand now held, it throbbed lightly, your heartbeat finding itself there.
Sobs then grasped from Marlen’s mouth causing you to scoff, mumbling “Pathetic.” quietly under your breath before you turned to leave. 
"Miss y/l/n!"  McGonagall shouted, her voice inflated with fury. 
"Yes Professor?" You drawled turning to face the women, a bored expression taking your features. 
"I just ran into Miss McKinnon and her nose is broken!" She yelled glaring down at you, it was no secret you were one of her least favorite students. 
"She shouldn't be sticking it in other people's business." You shrugged picking at your nails.
"Are you telling me that you are the one who broke it?" She gasped. 
"Godric, I would have thought you had figured that already." You rolled your eyes. 
"Detention, my room, for a month." She hissed. 
"I'm so sorry, I'm going to have to cancel." You hummed a disappointed look falling upon you. 
"Miss y/l/n detention isn’t something you can just cancel." She scoffed 
"It is when I already have detention with Flitwick." You shrugged. 
"Fine then. Morning detention. I already have a group of students serving then, you will join them." 
"I'm gonna gave to cancel again." You smiled.
"Don't tell me you have more detention." McGonagall sighed.
"No, I'm just not a morning person." You smirked. 
McGonagall sharpened her gaze on you and you just smiled back.
"I expect to see you there Miss y/l/n." 
"Of course." You mocked.
McGonagall turned on her heel mumbling something about the need for discipline and left. 
You did the same continuing towards your common room. You reached the room and was about to whisper the password when a booming voice echoed through the dark corridor. 
"Y/l/n!" 
You turned to be met with a pair of stunning green eyes and floppy blonde hair. A mischievous smile danced in white, tucked neatly behind a pair of pink lips. 
"Avery." You drawled attempting to keep your eyes from rolling. 
"You look stunning as always." He complimented this time nothing could have stopped your eyes from turning in their sockets, "How are you?"
"Better when you weren't here." You sighed.
"Oh come one y/l/n, we're friends." He smiled.
"Just because I have been forced to go to the same social gatherings as you since I was four doesn't mean we're friends." You drawled before mumbling the password and slipping into the common room. 
Avery followed, as persistent as ever, "Good, I never liked the friend zone anyway."
You scoffed, "Well I hope you enjoy the dickwad-who-harasses-me zone." 
"I wouldn't call it harassment." He smirked placing his hand lightly on your waist. 
"I would," you spoke snatching his palm from your skin and twisting it harshly. 
He gasped but continued to smile, "I bet you like it rough in bed." 
You dug your nails into his flesh hearing his hiss in pain, "Speak to me like that again and I break your wrist. Clear?"
"Crystal." He whimpered. 
"Avery!" Another voice called through the common room, "Will you please stop harassing the beautiful girl?" 
You let go of Avery's wrist and turned, this time to see Mulciber. 
Avery through him a sharp glance before backing away from you.
"Are you okay?" He asked, placing his hand on your shoulder and examining you closely. A little too closely. 
"Fine." You shook his hand off your shoulder once and tossed one more icy glare at Avery before ascending to your room.
You groaned wincing as you sat up slowly from your bed, your head pounded. You swore, regretting the small bottle of fire whiskey which now lay empty on your floor. 
You stood slowly, the grey of early morning dulling the colors of your dorm room. You stepped down from your bed, your warm feet cooling on the wooden floor. You glanced out of the window to your left. 
You let your mind sink into the green murky water, you watched something dart by calmly. You wished to stay there forever, watching as the kelp swayed slowly back and forth, part of you wanted to grab the closest thing and smash the glass letting yourself become part of the dark wet. 
You brushed the thought from your head dressing in silence, downing a few painkillers and, sliding on your robes before grabbing the black leather school bag which rested at the end of your bed. 
You exited the room slipping slowly down the stairs before sighing and pushing open the door, greeted by the warmth of the dungeons. You listened to footsteps echo off the walls listening to your heart pound calmly. You let your mind wander, but never too far, you kept it in chains, holding it from dark corners which you wished would fall away.
You accened a stairwell enjoying the soft hum of the changing steps and the murmurs of the portraits which surrounded you. 
You walked a few more steps before pushing open a heavy wooden door to be greeted by five pairs of eyes.
The first you locked with were a deep grey, silver almost seeming to swirl within them. Your mind filled with memories of searches and hiding, pinning and secrets, hearts thumping, blush rising. 
They left your thoughts as quickly as they flooded them. Your heart thumped its usual slow pace, no change taking place.
“Ms. Y/l/n, nice of you to show up.” McGonagall snipped glancing at a clock which read five-o-five. Five minutes late. 
“It was nice of me to show up, you should be thankful.” You spoke back, your headache seeming to remerge. 
You heard a pair of sneakers and felt a glare on you, but you refused to look down at the boys who sat at the tables in front of you. 
“You should be thankful I don't have you expelled.” She wiped.
You nodded and took a seat at one of the tables in the back, you felt the boy's eyes follow you, you could hear whispers being exchanged. 
“Well, I hope you all like paperwork because you will be organizing it for the next three hours,” McGonnagle spoke earning a groan from James who sat in front of you. She waved her wand and papers appeared on each of your desks, most were disciplinary forms. Some papers you didn't quite feel like reading and some were littered with spells and charms. You reached for your wand, only to have it ripped from your hand.
“No magic.” The woman in front of you smirked almost as if she enjoyed your pain. 
“Give me my wand back.” you hissed.
She didn't follow her orders and instead examined the wand with intense criticism, “Hawthorn?” she asked.
You replied with a curt nod. 
“Core?” 
“Dragon heartstring.” You snarled missing the feeling of its rough wood in your hand.
“Very nice.” was all the professor said before setting it gently back onto your desk. “Wand away Potter!” 
You glared at the papers in front of you, the harsh black against pure white hurting your eyes. You leaned your head down hiding your eyes in the crook of your elbow, attempting to stop the pounding of your head by cowering from the light. You slowly let yourself be immersed back into black. 
You stifled a giggle, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you clamped your hand over your mouth. You were enveloped in blackness, the only visible light was sliding through a small sliver at your feet before it spread like a bird’s wings until it stretched too thin and disappeared. 
You felt another giggle rise in your throat. You were tempted to shed the uncomfortable dress you wore, but you didn't want your mother to scold you again. You choked back laughter as footsteps grew louder dress shoes on polished granite sounding loudly in your ears. You could feel a broom handle digging into your back, your heart now thumped so loudly against your rib cage you were sure that the boy outside could hear it, and maybe he could. 
The door whipped open, blinding you with light as you let out a small shriek hiding behind your hands before peaking through them and seeing a deep, swirling grey.
You awoke with a start, your eyes met grey once again and you stifled a light shout. 
“You awake y/l/n?” Sirius asked with a small smirk.
“No.” You answered turning away from the boy. 
He chuckled a dark rich sound, “Well you might want to change that, we’ve got class in four minutes.”
“Fuck.” You mumbled turning back to him. You watched as his eyes sparkled in a godly way, his silky hair falling from behind his ear, his milky skin uninterrupted by blemishes. Your heart thumped its lazy beat, almost bored. 
“You coming?” He asked moving away from you to gather his stuff. You nodded, although you weren't quite sure where you were going.
You gather your things and trailed slowly after the boy who waited for you at the door.
“I've missed you y/l/n, we haven’t spoken in so long.” Sirius spoke and you felt as if you were finally jolted awake. 
“You did?” Your voice was filled with doubt and menace.
“Of course, we were great friends as kids, how could I not?” He smiled at you.
Something changed, your heartbeat stuttered, your breaths quickened and you felt yourself falling, so slowly, like the hero in an action movie, you just hopped cupid had just as terrible aim as the villains always did. 
You struggled to keep your eyelid’s incredible weight up. You felt your mind nod into darkness before you snapped your head back to attention, Flitwick’s high voice echoing in and out of your head. You finally gave up and let your head fall back onto your arm, your hair spilling onto the desk as you let the world disappear behind you. 
You woke in a dark cold room you recognized far too well. The echoing of heels on marble floors ringing in your ears. You could feel the dress you wore scratching the back of your neck as the large earrings poked through you snagged in your hair. You looked across the table and met the face of a tall woman, her smokey black hair pulled into such a tight bun you almost thought it would rip the skin from her scalp. Your small hands grasped a fork, you suddenly felt a sharp hiss of pain and you bit back a whimper glancing at your mother who glared at you her wand clutched under her skirt, ready to perform another act of punishment. You set down the fork you held and grasp the one to its left earning a small nod of approval. 
You glanced to your right to meet the softness of pillowing grey eyes. You felt your heart thump loudly as the small boy reached for your hand under the table, grasping it and giving it a small squeeze. You bite your tongue as false laughter surrounded you, the soft tinkle of silverware hitting china running in the cold dining hall, the chandelier above you sending an icy light through the area. 
Yet you felt warmth on your cheeks and in your hand as the boy next you held you. You wished to tell him, you hoped for him to tell you something in return, but it was secret you knew you would die with because as your mother said, you're ten years old now, you aren't children anymore. You don't have time for feelings. You have obligations to meet. 
You jolted awake groaning slightly as a sharp pain spread from your shin, you glared at the girl next to you who only returned the favor.
Suddenly a voice greeted your ears, it was sharp and high making you cringe.
"Ms. Y/l/n!" Flitwick repeated, although the first attempts to gain your attention went unheard.
"Yes, professor?" You droned.
"What is the answer?" He spoke harshly.
"Ummm," you glanced at the board in hopes of seeing some hints for the riddle you were just handed. None were found, your heart remained calm, it’s beat steady and smooth as it always was.
With slight desperation in your eyes you glanced across the room and found two storms of grey. Your eyes trailed down to his lips which moved slowly, the word they were speaking exaggerated.
"Portus." You spoke suddenly glancing at your teacher, "The answer is Portus."
Flitwick’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing suspiciously. 
Your lips twitched into a cheeky grin, challenging the professor in front of you. 
"That is correct." He spoke slowly.
Your smile widened, you glanced across to Sirius mouthing a thanks. He winked back unfazed.
You felt your heart flip as he looked your way. Its steady beat was interrupted and it was sent into a frenzy as you glanced back down at your hands, laying your head back onto your desk
The next day you awoke with the same sense of dread you seemed to hold every moment you weren't asleep.
You slowly made your way to McGonagall's room, never quite waking, eyes half-lidded.
You came to the same seat you occupied the day before and glared down at the papers in front of you.
You yawned, eyes snapping shut as your mouth widened. When your lids parted again you were met with a cheeky smile.
"Sirius." You greeted lazily.
"I think I'll sit here today." He responded setting his bag down on the opposite side of your table. 
Your heart snapped aggressively, "You can't." 
"Why not?" Sirius asked almost looking hurt, almost.
Your mind went blank, reasons evading you as your head began to ache, "There's no chair." 
"Well, I can change that." He shrugged walking to the table he had occupied the day before grasping the chair it held and dragging it noisily back to his original position.
You winced at the sharp sound the legs emitted on the classroom's floors, "Can't you pick it up?" You growled.
He rolled his eyes playfully lifting the chair above his head and walking back in front of you, "Better?" He asked before dropping in onto the ground.
"No." You pouted slightly.
Sirius' smile widened largely, "You're really cute ya' know."
Your heart leaped uncontrollably.
"You always have been, even when you were little, you were always so adorable." 
You felt your cheeks heat, your breaths becoming irregular, "Shut up." 
"Are you blushing?" He teased bringing his finger up and poking your cheek.
You swatted his hand away biting back a smile, "No."
"Are you sure?" He jeered.
"Positive." You grinned sarcastically.
You attempted to focus on sorting the papers in front of you, but it was practically impossible when you could feel Sirius' eyes boring into you.
You snapped your head upwards, "What?" 
Sirius only smiled back, "You should come to Hogsmeade with me."
"What." You repeated, eyes wide.
"Ya' know, the village with all the shops and things." He explained
"I know what Hogsmeade is you moron." You said back, heart beating irregularly.
"Yeah well you should come, James, Remus, and Peter will be there. And Lily if she gets over the whole poly juice thing." He shrugged.
Your heart slowed back to a normal pace, "What is the poly j?- you know what, I'm not even gonna ask." You cut yourself off.
"So will you come?" He asked voice inflated with hope.
You bit your lip, "I don't know, I mean Lily and I aren't exactly best buds." 
"Come on y/n/n, for me?" Sirius pouted, jutting out his bottom lip in a pitiful pout.
You ignored your heartbeat growing loud and sighed, "Fine." 
He let out a little yelp of happiness, earning a glare from McGonagall, "I swear you won’t regret it." 
"I better not." 
As you made your way to your first class your momentary happiness was interrupted by a certain brunette.
"Y/l/n!" Mulciber shouted through the halls running towards you. 
You wondered if you could make a break for it, but before you could decide his hand was on your shoulder spinning you around. 
“Yes, Mulciber?” You asked in a deflated sigh. 
“I saw you weren't at breakfast and I didn’t want you to go hungry.” He smiled holding out a blueberry muffin.
You knitted your brows in confusion reaching out for the muffin, “Umm thanks.” 
“Yeah of course.” He said back, “Do you want me to carry those?” he gestured to the books tucked under your arm. 
“Sure.” You shrugged passing him the books and beginning to nibble on the baked good he brought you. 
“Where are you headed?” he asked trailing behind you as you began to walk down the corridor.
“I’ve got Herbology. You don't have to follow me all the way down to the greenhouses though.” You glanced back over your shoulder eyes narrowed, you were still suspicious of the boy’s actions. 
“It's no problem.” He smiled happily catching up to you. 
You suddenly stopped in your tracks causing the boy to come to a skidding halt, “Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?” you asked, never one to beat around the bush; your mother always told you it was a sign of weakness to be indirect anyway. 
His face grew a bit red, “Umm, I just, ya know.” 
“I don't know.” You cut in.
“I just think your kinda cute and I don't know, I thought maybe you might finally start paying attention to me.” He spoke scratching the back of his neck, his golden eyes refused to meet yours. 
“You’re lying.” You smirked. “I'm not an idiot Mulciber, I don't know what you’re playing at, but I will find out and you will regret it, you can be sure of that.” 
The boy’s eyes widened he opened his mouth to speak but before he could you had snatched your books back from him and dropped the muffin to the ground, stepping on it as you continue your way to class. 
As the week continued getting out of bed seemed to get easier. Your eyelids lost some of the pounds they seemed to be carrying and your heartbeat never felt the same. It jumped unpredictably, sped to inhuman rates and stopped abruptly. Your thoughts filled with those of black hair and leather jackets. The smell of fresh pine and chocolate clouded your dreams, grey eyes were all that you could see. You wished you had disregarded the schoolgirl crush you had for the eldest Black brother but it only seemed to grow stronger and stronger, from infatuation to true feelings. 
You went to Hogsmeade, despite everything in your body telling you not to, and it wasn't half as bad as you predicted. Lily was shooting you glares - no doubt because of what you did to her dear friend and darling Marlen Mckinnon - but no one else seemed to have a problem with you, although Peter seemed a bit scared of you. 
By the end of the month, you began to look forward to your detention. You got just about nothing done but the conversations with Sirius were endless. You reminisced over the awful dress robes his mother insisted he wore and argued over which quidditch team was superior. You laughed more than you had in far too long. You suddenly felt alive again. It was as if the boy you now fantasized about had finally showed you what existing was for. 
You felt the dew soaking through your robes as it numbed your toes and wet your hands as your fingers danced in the grass. You heard a slight grunt as Sirius plopped into the green beside you, your shoulders brushing as your heartbeat sped. You tore your gaze from the boy beside you and glanced up at the sky.
A small gasp left your mouth as you stared up at the stars in awe. Your lips stayed parted as your eyes traced the heavenly body above you. You just stared. You might have laid there for a minute, for ten, for an hour, you didn't know and you didn't care. You could have stayed, sprawled in that field for the rest of your life as you stared into the stars, tracing the constellations, disappearing into the universe above you. 
“It’s beautiful.” You sighed out in a dreamy haze.
“Not as beautiful as you are.” Sirius commented causing your cheeks to flush as you turned your head to meet his gaze.
“That was a really cheesy line Black.” You smirked, “You sound like you're in some terrible rom-com.”
“You make me feel like I’m in some terrible rom-com.” He sighed, staring at you in a way you couldn't quite comprehend. 
“That was just as bad.” You giggled. 
Sirius disregarded you comment leaning close to you, you could feel your heart pumping uncontrollably. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his breath fanning directly over your nose. 
You nodded slowly and without another warning, his lips were on yours. They brushed your own hesitantly as his hands found your waist. You felt your hands creep up to his hair tugging on it lightly. Sirius released a small moan and you took the opportunity to slide your tongue past his lips as you tasted butterbeer and mint. 
You broke away blushing harshly, your lips swollen, light gasps pulling from you. 
“I think I might be in love with you,” You whispered scared if you raised your voice anymore you would break the spell the two of you had been placed under. 
Sirius only stared back a you and reconnected your lips. 
The next morning you woke with a smile for the first time in ages. You practically leaped out of bed dressing quietly.
“You look dazzling today as usual y/n.” Sirius winked when you arrived at the classroom
“Only for you.” You respond as your heart stuttered in your chest. 
The hours passed in haze and you soon departed to potions. On your way, you felt someone tap your shoulder. You turned on see Avery who had been becoming slowly more and more kind over the past few weeks. 
“Avery. How are you?” You asked continuing to your class. 
“I'm alright.” He shrugged “How about you?” 
“I’m great.” You smiled as the two of you continued to potions. 
Once seated in the class you made a decent effort to pay attention to what Slughorn was speaking about but you couldn't seem to focus on anything, your mind wandered to the texture of Sirius’s lips, the taste he held, the way his hands felt on your waist. 
You glanced to were Avery was seated, seeing a numbered sheet of paper and catching a glimpse of your name at the bottom before it was torn from your view. 
“What is that Avery?” You asked him quietly.
“What was what?” He responded.
“Don't play dumb with me, I am not an idiot.” You hissed, your hand gripping his arm harshly. 
He whimpered sliding the paper over to you hesitantly. 
You opened the parchment your eyes scanning the list of names, but seeing yours on there wasn't what hurt. When you saw another's scrawled at the top your heart stopped. 
“No.” You whimpered, your throat tightening as your world spun. 
You stood abruptly, knocking your knees on the desk in front of you, moving the things on it, one jar falling to the ground and shattering. 
“Ms. y/l/n?” Slughorn asked hesitantly, the entire class watched you in a mixture of fear and curiosity. 
A wrecked sob left your lips tearing from your throat as your eyes welled with tears, “No!” You shrieked a sharp noise that made those around you wince. You darted from the classroom without another word, collapsing into sobs before you could even reach your common room. Your head began to throb as cries tore from your mouth, you could taste salt as you sunk to the ground. 
You slowly regain your footing and stubbled up the stairs, sobs still echoing around you, your throat becoming raw. 
Just as you reached the corridor you were looking for classes were released and students flooded the hallways, you didn't bother with anyone, not caring about one pair of eyes on you. 
When you saw him your heart halted altogether. He was a masterpiece, his hair shining in the light as his teeth flashed a dazzling white. You wanted to tear him open, rip him to shreds.
His gaze met yours and softened. You didn't speak a word to him, snatching his wrist and dragging him away, you didn't pay any mind to his protests as you dragged him into an empty classroom and slammed the door behind you. 
“Y/n/n wh-”
“Thirty points.” You choked out. “I’m worth thirty points.” 
His eyes widened mouth falling open to speak. 
“I’m impressed, Black.” You laughed darkly tears spilling down your cheeks like hot raindrops. “I truly am, you managed to trick me, you managed to seduce the cold-hearted bitch of a Slytherin right?” 
“Y/n, I don't know what to say.” He spoke slowly. 
“Say you love me.” You hiccupped.
“You know I can't do that.” He said as you bit your bottom lip in attempts to keep it from quivering. 
“Then get away from me.” You spat like venom.
He turned and left without another word and you collapsed to the ground, your nails digging into your wrist. 
You lay on the ground for hours, silent tears spilling down your cheeks, wishing your heartbeat would stop forever.  
Part 2
Taglist: @accio-rogers @k3nz-doodl3 @roslea @songforhema @wangmangagavroche
1K notes · View notes
thejilyship · 4 years
Text
It’s just Coffee
Lily is partnered with James for an Econ project that he seems unwilling to make time for. When he shows up forty minutes late to her flat, she finds out why.
single parent, college, modern, muggle au
ff.net | ao3
Lily Evans to James Potter: You’re late. Again.
James: I know, and I’m very sorry, but it was unavoidable
Lily: Of course it was.  
James: I’ll be there in ten minutes.
Lily: If you’re any later than that, I’m going to lock the door and not let you in.
James: Completely fair! See you in a few
James: Also, I have to bring someone with me, hope that’s alright!
Lily: I s2g, it better not be Sirius
James: it’s not Sirius, he’s on a date and he’s a git and I’m never speaking to him again
James: I’ll be there soon
 Lily put her phone down and frowned. She tapped her pencil against her textbook and looked up at the clock. He’d said that he’d meet with her at six so they could finish this stupid group project that they’d been partnered by their professor to do.
James was not the person that Lily would have chosen to be her partner. Not only was it now six thirty, and he hadn’t even texted to let her know that he was running late, but he’d been late to their last meet up as well. He hadn’t even wanted to meet up the last time. He’d tried to convince her that they could just finish their project after class, even though Lily had another class to get to just thirty minutes after.
But it was fine.
She took a deep breath through her nose and then slowly let it out. This was the last time that they’d have to meet up, and then she could go back to hating this class solely for the damned TA’s unjust disdain for her and the boring source material.
She looked over what she and James had scrapped together so far, and what she’d added for the both of them since she’d been sitting here for almost forty minutes now. It was a short presentation about economic principals. The work was tedious and monotonous, she’d almost offered to just put the entire thing together on her own multiple times just because he was always acting like he had something better to do and she was annoyed with him.
But she couldn’t in good conscious, let someone else take a grade that she worked for, whether it had been difficult to get or not.
She had almost been looking forward to working with James when they were first partnered. He was cute, and he was funny, and he usually sat next to her and there had definitely been some flirting. She knew very little about him. He was a football player, he had amazing hair that he was constantly playing with, his eyes were dangerously mesmerizing, and he was late for class almost every day.
It was six thirty-nine when there was a knock on her door.
Lily felt both annoyed that he’d taken nine of the ten minutes, and a bit guilty for giving him such a hard time. People were busy, sometimes time got away from them.
But as she walked to the door, she got annoyed again because showing up forty minutes late said a lot about how little you thought of the person whose time you were wasting. Her time was valuable too, even if she wasn’t a student athlete. She could have been working on her orgo homework instead of messing around with the font sizes and wording on their presentation while she waited for him.
“I’m sorry,” James said as he walked into her flat. He always walked in like a storm. His hair was wild, his limbs moving with direction and purpose, his eyes flashing. Lily stepped back, giving him a wide girth.
Unlike every other time she’d seen him storm into a room, today, he was carrying a car seat.
“Sirius was supposed to watch Harry for me so that we could finish this project, and then he ‘forgot’ to tell me that he had a date until after I was already supposed to be here. I tried texting Remus, but he’s got his calc lab tonight and Peter’s working in the library- also I didn’t want to be this late, so I didn’t really reach out further than that.” He was talking a mile a minute, but Lily could hardly register what he was saying, she just stared at the round little face in the carrier.
“You have a baby?” She asked, and then she was crouching down so that she could get a better look. “Harry,” She reached out and took his little foot between her thumb and pointer.
“Yeah, Harry. He’s eight months old.” Lily looked up to find James’ hand in his hair. “He’ll probably fall asleep in a bit, so finishing our project shouldn’t be a problem.” He looked at the watch on his wrist and then pushed his glasses up to rub at one of his eyes.
“James, you could have just told me that tonight didn’t work for you.” Lily said, feeling guilty again. He should have communicated better, but he looked a frazzled. “If you need to take him home and put him to bed- I don’t want this stupid project to ruin his night.”
“What?” James’ glasses fell back onto his nose as he looked down at her. “No, he sleeps like a rock, so he’ll be fine. I just left his bag down in the car.” He made to lift the car seat again and Lily shook her head.
“You can leave him with me if you want. I live on the third floor of a building with no elevator. Unless you’re trying to impress someone, it’s insane to carry this thing up and down again.” She gestured to the car seat and he looked as though he was debating something. Lily almost started listing out the reasons she was qualified to be left alone with an infant.
“You’re sure?” James asked before she could tell him that she was CPR certified.  
“Of course.” Lily was sitting cross legged in front of the car seat now, smiling at Harry who was smiling right back at her. She’d already forgotten about econ.
James watched her and Harry for a moment longer and then rushed out the door.
“Well isn’t this a surprise,” Lily said, speaking with Harry as though he was an old acquaintance and not an eight-month-old. “I don’t know why your daddy thought I wouldn’t understand that he needed a bit of leeway here. I thought he just wanted to hang out with his friends or play with his hair, but he was probably with you, yes? And who wouldn’t want to be with you,” She wiggled his foot again and Harry laughed. Lily fought the urge to take the infant out of its car seat and hug him to her chest. “Why are you so cute?” She shook her head and Harry laughed again.
It didn’t take James long to run back up with Harry’s diaper bag.
“I just need a third arm and then this will be easier.” He said, closing her door behind him and setting Harry’s bag next to his own.
“I’m sure your coach doesn’t mind all the extra stairs you just had to scale.” Lily grinned, though she was still looking at Harry. “He’s like a perfect clone. Except for the eyes.”
James crouched down next to her. “You been paying attention to my eyes, Evans?”
“No, I’ve simply noticed that they’re not this brilliant shade of green.” Lily said coolly, turning to give him a look. “Green eyes aren’t nearly as common as people think. So for those of us with green eyes…”
“Sure.” James nodded, “Pretend like you don’t know what color my eyes are.” They were still looking at each other and Harry laughed again, kicking his feet. “Alright, alright, I’ll get you out of there.”
Soon, the three of them were at the table, and James was paying much more attention to their econ assignment than Lily was. But Harry was eating cheerios and kept getting them stuck to his chin and Lily couldn’t be blamed for being distracted.
“Do you want to hold him?” James asked after Lily had leaned across the table to help Harry find the cheerio that was stuck to the tip of his nose.
Lily bit the tip of her tongue and nodded. “I wasn’t sure if it was okay to ask.”
James laughed and held Harry out to her across the table. Lily held out her arms, making sure that Harry wanted to come and sit with her before she took him. He reached out to her happily, grabbing a fist full of her hair almost immediately.
“I like her hair too, Harry,” James laughed, picking up a pencil now that his hands were free, and adding a few things to their notes.
“Are you using your child to flirt with me?”
“No,” James looked back up at her, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “I was flirting with you when he wasn’t here. I’m just continuing to flirt with you now that he’s here. I’m being consistent.”
“Ah,” Lily nodded as she gently pulled her hair from Harry’s grip. She tossed it up into a quick plait to prevent it from happening again and then looked over at James again. “I’m sorry I’m not helping.”
James laughed and shook his head. “I noticed that you added to it before I got here. And I brought the distraction. No need to apologize.”
“You did bring the distraction,” Lily agreed, letting Harry stand up on her lap. He started bouncing happily and Lily started singing nonsense that made him laugh some more. “I’m either hilarious, or you’re delirious.” Harry was still laughing, and Lily shook her head. “Delirious then.”
“He normally goes to bed about now.” James nodded, looking at his watch again. It was seven thirty and Lily didn’t feel like they’d been in her flat for almost an hour. She pressed her lips together for a moment and then nodded.
“There’s no reason we can’t finish up the rest of this online. We’ve already got the outline for the rest of the project done.”
“You’re sure you wouldn’t mind finishing it up that way?” James asked, and it was obvious that he would prefer to take his baby home before he fell asleep, so Lily nodded, even though she was not sure that she wanted to let Harry, or his father, go just yet.
“I don’t mind at all. I told you that I didn’t want to mess with his sleep.”
“Thanks,” His shoulders relaxed, and he started packing up his bag.
“And James,” Lily nabbed his attention. “Next time you can just tell me that you need to reschedule.”
“Oh? Are you going to pretend that you haven’t been very annoyed with my being late all the time?”
“No,” Lily shook her head. “Though I can be more understanding now that I know you’re not blowing off econ just for fun.”
“Right,” James nodded. “It’s not… I mean, it can be a little awkward telling people that I have a kid. And I don’t want to use him as an excuse- unless my mates are trying to get me to go out and get shitfaced on a Tuesday.” He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “And then sometimes I go too long without telling someone that Harry is around, and then it’s awkward when they find out. I’m still trying to work out how to handle it all.”
“Completely unacceptable.” Lily deadpanned. James laughed.
“Right, well, thank you for being understanding and for not getting upset that I had to bring him with me.”
Lily narrowed her brow. “Who would get upset?”
James shrugged. “People have all kinds of weird reactions when you ask them to be accommodating.” James stood up and so Lily did too, sliding Harry deftly to her hip as they made their way toward the door.
“I suppose that’s true. But if you want to bring him to any future projects we have to do, I’ll do my best not to be annoyed.”
James snorted, “Right. You look very annoyed right now.” He put Harry’s snacks back into his pack and then held out his hands to take Harry back.
Lily gave Harry a hug first and then handed him back. “I’m only a little annoyed.”
“So, you like kids, do you?”
“What gave me away?”
James laughed and Lily grinned.
And then Harry was all strapped in and James was carrying everything he had brought with him. “Alright, well then, I’ll text you when he’s down so we can finish up our project. See in class?”
Lily nodded. “Sounds good,” She waved at Harry. “Hope to see you around too, little one.” Harry laughed at her again, but this time it was immediately followed by a big yawn. “I feel you,” She nodded.
She opened the door for James and waved again, this time at him. “See you later.”
 As Lily has thought, their project required no further face to face meetings, which she no longer thought was a relief. Now that she knew James wasn’t some inconsiderate ass who thought it was fine to show up thirty or forty minutes late, she found that she liked more than just his hair or his eyes.
James had texted her after he’d gotten Harry to sleep, only they hadn’t stopped texting after they had finished their project.
And then they never really stopped texting.
And the flirting in class came back tenfold.
She was sitting on the couch, her feet propped up on the arm, her head resting on Mary’s lap, and her phone glued in front of her face when Mary tugged on her hair.
“You texting that econ boy again?” She asked.
“You know that I am.”
“I do know that. I was starting a conversation though, and I wasn’t just going to jump right into the middle, was I?”
“You’ve been known to do worse.” Lily set the phone down on her chest and looked up at her friend.
“Have you even seen him outside of class yet?” Mary asked, still looking at her own phone.
“No, but I didn’t even like him until-“
“Until he showed you his baby.” Mary sighed and looked down at her. “Babies are like crack to you.”
“I don’t like him because he has a baby.” Lily said. “I forgave him for being late so often because he has a baby. I liked him before though.”
“You mentioned his hair a couple times,” Mary nodded. “But I wasn’t really trying to give you a hard time for your weird fascination with small humans.”
“It’s not weird to like kids, Mary. You like kids.”
“Sure, and do I wish that I had been home while there had been a baby right here? Where I am every day? Yes, but I was just trying to tease you, let it go so we can get to the point.”
“If you started conversations with your point-“
“Are you going to ask this bloke out?”
Lily pressed her lips together. “Am I allowed to ask him out?”
“Do you want to?”
“I… want him to ask me out.” Mary whacked her on the arm and Lily cried out. “Only so I know that it’s okay! I’ve asked blokes out before, I’m not scared!”
“You are totally a scardy-cat, but have you considered that maybe he doesn’t think it’s okay to ask you out?”
“He said that he was still trying to figure things out with Harry.” Lily said, twirling a piece of her hair around her finger.
“So the two of you are just going to keep obnoxiously texting one another to no end?” Mary asked. “And look, if that is the reason that he says no to a date, will it crush you? Will you be unable to go on?”
Lily pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”
“Well then…”
“Alright. Alright I get your point.”
Mary narrowed her brow and stayed quiet.
“What?”
“Well go ahead and ask him out.”
“I can’t do it now! We’re talking about how The Voice was a better show before they made all the rule changes.”
“I don’t know why you’re hung up on that-“
“They need to get Adam back, that’s why.”
“Ask out your boy, Evans. Or else.”
“I don’t like it when you say that. I never know what it means.”
“You’re not supposed to.”
“You filled my entire pillowcase with shaving cream once.”
“Well, you’re the one that didn’t listen to me, so who’s fault was that?”
Lily shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “Definitely yours.”
“You’re stalling.” Mary grabbed Lily’s wrist and moved her arm so that Lily’s phone was in front of her face again. “Ask him out. Ask him to dinner here, or for coffee or something else lowkey.”
“You think asking him to dinner here, where I’d cook for him, is lowkey?” Lily’s brow went up. “Remind me to help you out if you ever think about asking someone out.”
“I didn’t say you had to cook for him- you could order in- oh shut up and text him.”
Lily huffed and then clicked on her phone again.
James: Last season was weird anyway just because everyone knew Maelin was going to win from the beginning
Lily: Yes, so I’m going to change the subject now
James: Thank you for the warning lol
Lily: right
Lily: I know that you’re really busy, but I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime. Coffee maybe?
As soon as she hit send, she shoved her phone into the couch cushions.
“You did it already?” Mary asked, surprised.
“You told me to!” Lily pushed herself up and spun around toward Mary.
“What did he say?”
“I don’t know, I turned off my screen.”
“Well you gotta look!”
“I know that!” Lily pulled her knees up to her chest. “He’s going to say no. He’s going to tell me that he doesn’t have time.”
“You don’t know that.” Mary said. “He might say ‘yes.’”
“He might say ‘yes.’” Lily agreed and then dug her phone out of the cushions.
James: You asking me out, Evans?
“He didn’t even answer yet, he just wants to know if I’m asking him out.” Lily’s heart was in her throat.
“Well then clarify! I should have proofread your text.”
“I asked him if he wanted to go out sometime. That’s pretty clear!”
Lily: Of course, I’m asking you out.
“Is saying ‘of course’ a bit aggressive? It’s too late if you’re going to say yes because I’ve already sent the message.”
“No, it’s cute.” Lily looked at Mary. “Sort of aggressive, but in a cute way. Maybe.”
James: Right, of course you are. Why wouldn’t you?
James: I’d love to go out with you
“He said yes!”
“Okay, play it cool!” Mary was on her knees next to her now.
Lily: Love? Relax. I asked you to coffee
“That’s a bit too cool,” Mary laughed. Lily shoved her.
“Don’t read over my shoulder.”
“I’ll do what I want!” But she sat back down.
Lily bit her tongue and settled back against the couch. She really liked this bloke.
James: It’s your enthusiasm that’s bolstering me thanks
James: You free before class on Thursday?
Lily: I am.
James: You were
James: Meet you at one?
Lily: So I should show up at one thirty then?
James: I can be on time occasionally
Lily: Proof?
James: I can tell that you really do like me
James: I’m so excited for you to tease me in person
Lily: teasing is 90% of how I flirt so
Lily: I hope you don’t mind.
James: Nah, I don’t.
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willcwthewisp · 3 years
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false god complex | ben & willow
LOCATION: university of maine, white crest. PARTIES:  @professorbcampbell and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: ben is more than happy to lend willow a helping hand.  CONTAINS: elements of grooming.
Willow’s knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel of her car in a near death-grip, already dreading what was to come. Why had the telemarketing company thought she was a good person to deliver toner? She’d done her best to avoid getting too close to anyone in the office, constantly afraid that she’d end up throwing someone through the flimsy walls that made up their miniscule cubicles. But somehow they’d settled on her to make a delivery that required a signature. She couldn’t even find peace in the knowledge that she’d be able drop the package and run. No- the telemarketer would have to come face to face with an actual person. This was the exact opposite of what she’d signed up for when taking a job that was about being away from people.
Pulling into the university, she struggled for a moment with the box of printing supplies, finally managing to balance it on her hip as she locked her car. One slow and deep breath later, she was steeling herself as she walked towards the closest building. Just find a person. Have them sign. And get out. That’s all she had to do. At least it was later in the day, getting closer to a time of the evening when less students were on campus. Throwing a college student into the quad fountain was also on her list of scenarios to desperately avoid. And it was a rather long list. Why were there so many people in the world? Turning the corner into a hallway, she scanned for any nearby lifeforms, finally spotting the back of a man’s head down the way as he walked away from her. “Um- excuse me!” she called out, her free hand waving with uncertainty above her head as she made an awkward shuffle towards him. “Excuse me! Sir? Sorry- I just- well I’m dropping off this toner, and it needs a signature. Do you think- well would you mind signing for it?”
Thumbing through his mail, Ben scanned the various letters. Hardly anyone sent him physical mail anymore, but he made a point of checking his mailbox once a week. It was good practice to walk through the halls, make a show of being polite and friendly to all of the cubicle dwelling student workers and pitiful staff members who didn’t have access to offices of their own. His office was on the third floor of the building, and while he didn’t have a corner office just yet, he had it on good authority that the next vacancy would be his. Tossing a few pieces of junk mail into the recycling bin, he headed out of the mailroom back to his office. He would finish up some emails and then take home his remaining essays to grade. Perhaps stop by the coffee shop, see if he could arrange a serendipitous meeting with a student--
As he walked down the hall, Ben was caught off guard by the sudden flash of movement and a woman’s voice calling out to him. Toner? What, did she take him as a secretary? It wasn’t his job to make sure the printer room was stocked. But, he offered an easy smile instead and hurried towards her. “Here, let me take that.” He said, taking the heavy package of toner from her easily. “You’re a ways off from the printing room. I can carry this and sign once we get there?” He said with a nod.
“Oh- oh no, you don’t have to-” Willow began, but he’d already taken the package from her hip in a movement so smooth she almost forgot to be nervous about the proximity of him. Almost. Realizing how close she’d come to potentially grazing against the man, and therefore possibly tossing him into next week, the medium took a healthy step back. “Sorry- it’s been so long since I went here, and I swear they moved everything around,” she breathed with half an attempted chuckle, trying to set herself at ease after the close call. “You really don’t have to, though,” she started once more, hating to be any sort of inconvenience. “I mean- I didn’t mind carrying it! And it’s not your job, you know?” As she said the words she finally did a cursory one over of the man in front of her, blinking a few times in quick succession as she began to fully understand just how handsome he was. Oh god- now she was nervous again. “And I mean- you could just sign here, if you wanted! Then I could just take it to the printing room or wherever and set it and leave it there since you...signed for it. And it’s just toner! I don’t think anyone wants to take toner or anything, right? I mean, have you ever heard of anyone ever stealing toner before?” Willow ended on an semi-awkward chuckle, practically begging herself to stop talking before she said anything else that sounded equally, or god forbid, more idiotic.
Hefting the box in his arms, Ben made his expression one the model of politeness and patience. It was irritating to have to maintain his role as the good-nature professor for someone who so clearly wasn’t worth his time. Well. She was cute, in an out-of-sorts kind of way. Which was typically how most women acted around him. “No, it’s quite alright. It’s a heavy box and it’s easiest for me to just carry it while I have it now.” He said with an easy smile and tilted his head. “The printer room is on my way back to my office, so it’s no skin off my back. Two birds with one stone, hm?” He said as she rambled on and on. Incredible. She just kept speaking without providing anything of substance. “No need to worry. And no, I can’t begin to imagine why someone would steal toner of all things. Unless they’ve got a massive printer at home, I can’t see why they’d do that.” He laughed. “Ah,” Just shut up, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by just taking the box from you. You just looked as though you were struggling and I wanted to offer a hand. Or two.” Ben gestured to the box resting in his hands.
“Oh- well...thank you, then.” Willow wasn’t about to argue with a man who was being so perfectly polite about helping her, especially when he looked as handsome as this one did. After all, who didn’t enjoy it when a good-looking man helped you of his own accord without seeming threatening or overbearing? Feminism be damned. “Sure,” she agreed, feeling like she’d be doing that more often as the conversation went on. His words and actions were so confident that they nearly even set her at ease, which was no small feat. “Thank you, again.” She should make conversation, shouldn’t she? It was only polite after he’d helped her. “So you’re...a professor here?” That much was obvious given his mention of an office. “”What do you teach?” For a moment she laughed with him, still somewhat amazed that she’d been able to do so in the first place despite being at risk of telekinetically throwing someone in a public setting. “I guess so. Unless there’s some toner black market that I’m completely unaware of.” It was her own attempt at a joke. “No, no-” she began, not wanting him to think she was upset. “It was nice of you- really. I just wasn’t entirely expecting it and-” She didn’t like people getting close to her. Not when she was a ticking time bomb. “-and I appreciate the two hands.”
“You’re quite welcome.” Ben said with a kind smile he didn’t mean in the slightest. This woman looked familiar, and he couldn’t quite place his finger on why. She looked to be around the same age as him, perhaps a few years younger. Blonde, brown eyed, classical bone structure, but why did she look familiar to him? Perhaps he’d be able to worm the information out of her. “Please, it’s really not a problem. And yes, I am. I teach the classics. Greek and Roman history, culture, and philosophy for the most part, but I dabble in most ancient Western civilizations.” As he always did for the more nervous types-- and this woman struck him as quite nervous-- Ben offered a self conscious grimace. “But, it’s hardly the most interesting field.” He said as he led them through the halls at a leisurely pace. A toner black market. Knowing some of the creatures who roamed this town, there very well might be. “Well, my apologies for startling you. It wasn’t my intention at all. Do people generally let you,” Flounder “Struggle without offering to help? That’s hardly the sort of behavior I’d expect of people here.”
He seemed like a very nice man. Or a well-meaning one at the very least. The more he spoke, the more Willow settled into the situation she’d been handed, figuring there was little she could do at this point if he was going to be so insistent about helping. She just had to keep her distance, and everything would be alright...right? “Oh- well that’s all very impressive sounding,” she replied with a tentative smile, as if she were testing the waters when it came to the expression on her face. “The closest I ever got to the classics or anything like that when I was here were the art and visual culture classes for the eras.” While Ben carefully practiced humility, Willow was already shaking her head in denial of his words. “Oh no- if it’s interesting to you, that’s what matters, right? And I’m sure there’s plenty of people who find it really stimulating.” As she walked along with him, her eyes scanned the hallways, curious to see how her alma mater had changed in the years since she’d roamed it. “No, really- you don’t need to apologize at all. I mean- you were just being thoughtful. And there’s nothing wrong with that at all! Pretty much the opposite, actually. As for other people...I guess I wouldn’t know- I’m not really a ‘delivery’ sort of person, but the usual person was out today.”
Walking alongside the woman, Ben continued to appraise her. She seemed to have calmed down a bit which had resulted in, thankfully, less rambling. Some people rambled in productive ways, providing little insights into their lives, their minds. This woman? Not exactly. She spoke as though she had to fill the air with sound or else there would be dire consequences. “Ah, thank you, though it’s hardly impressive.” Ben said with a shrug. Oh, he was very impressive. Department co-chair, associate professor, and well established within the college at his age? No, he was impressive and he knew it. “Art and visual culture? Are you an artist?” He asked with interest, though internally he couldn’t care less. “Indeed! That’s how I find it as well.” Ben nodded as they continued down the hall. Rounding the corner into the printer room, he set the heavy box on the counter. “Ah, in that case, I’m quite glad I was there to help. It’s never pleasant when you have to take on the responsibilities of others.” He said with a sympathetic smile. He leaned against the copier, waiting for her next move, curious to see how she’d fill this new gap in conversation.
“Don’t say that,” Willow insisted, apparently gaining confidence where Ben carefully lost it. If there was one thing she was confident about it was boosting the spirit of others. “You know something that plenty of people couldn’t even begin to really grasp. Isn’t that impressive?” A friendly nod had her head bobbing up in down as he asked about her, blonde hair bouncing along with the motion. “I majored in Fine Arts when I was here, and then opened a gallery a few years out of school.” A smile grew more comfortable on her lips while he continued to be perfectly amenable. “Well then I’m glad you agree,” she finished with a small chuckle, finding herself more at ease with every moment. “Oh- well I was definitely lucky that you were there to help. And that you’re obviously more than happy to lend a helping hand.” A shrug tugged at her shoulders. “It’s alright- I don’t mind helping.” At least that was usually true when it didn’t put her in public situations that might result in someone getting broken in half. “But um- if I could get that signature from you now, that would be great?” She offered him the little electronic device they’d given her at the office, a pen attached to it. Holding it by the very ends, she desperately tried to ensure that no contact would be made when he took it. 
“I suppose it is.” Ben said and offered a sheepish, apologetic smile as the woman admonished him. So she was one of those types. An optimist, someone who tried to lift others up. Naive. Interesting, very interesting. He couldn’t help but weigh and measure her, even if he had no real desire to lure her towards the way of his Lord. But who knew. She might be able to be of use to him, one day. It never hurt to cultivate “friendships.” Just as he thought, an artist, one of those creative types. “Now that, that sounds quite impressive.” As she held out the little device, she watched the way she kept him at arms length. As though she was scared of him? No, not quite. He wasn’t entirely sure why she was so frightened. “Of course.” Ben signed off on the machine with a smile before handing it back to her. “Ben Campbell. A pleasure to meet you..?”
Willow’s grin widened as the man agreed, happy to see that he wasn’t planning on minimizing his accomplishments anymore for the time being. Why shouldn’t he be proud? She was fairly certain everyone had something to be proud of in their lives, and if they couldn’t see that then she was more than happy to help show them. “Oh no- I mean- it’s not that big of a deal.” Willow fell naturally into the persona that Ben had cultivated for himself over their conversation, a slight blush creeping over her cheeks at his praise. “But thank you, nonetheless.” Relief flooded her as he didn’t offer a hand to shake along with his introduction, knowing she would have only made the conversation terribly awkward as she refused to take it. “I’m Willow- Willow Finch. And thank you for the signature, Ben,” she said warmly, already taking a step back as she reminded herself that she was testing the limits of her telekinesis simply by talking to him. “I hope you have a good day, Professor Campbell.” Then she was starting to head off, wishing she could have counted the man as a new friend, but knowing it wasn’t possible with her current situation. But it had been nice to pretend for the length of the walk down the hallway.
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A Grand Gesture
lysissisyl said: I got: “Byleth breaking into Edelgard’s room through their window” It’s so damn in character. 😂
“It’ll just be a drabble,” I said.
“It will be fluffy,” I said. 
…It is neither of those things. 
Rating: G
-
Really, in a way, what happened could be blamed on Dorothea and Ferdinand. They were the ones who brought up the opera, and seemed to believe that  only certain gestures were the perfect solution for - to borrow one of Dorothea’s phrases - the hopelessly lovelorn. 
It had seemed a good idea at the time, asking the two of them for advice. Who else was there, really? And finding them sitting together in the dining hall might as well have been a sign yelling Fate!, because how often had that happened? Byleth couldn’t remember them ever sitting together as students; they’d seemed barely able to stand one another. 
She sat across from them, and, after perfunctory greetings, saw no reason not to get to the point: “Do you know why Edelgard keeps locking herself in her room?”
Dorothea raised a knowing eyebrow, but Ferdinand seemed confused: “She was at the council meeting yesterday… Though now that I think about it, she did seem to have rather less to say than usual.”
“And went back to her room immediately following,” Dorothea said. “Hubert was muttering darkly about it. Not that he ever mutters any other way.”
“She painted a picture,” Byleth said - already perfectly aware of Edelgard darting from the meeting room as if goosed, and Hubert rushing to follow. “She got upset when I saw it - but that was two weeks ago. She still won’t talk to me.”
“A painting?” Ferdinand asked. 
Dorothea asked the more pertinent question: “A painting of what?”
“Me.”
Her face lit up like a candle. “I knew it!”
“Knew what?”
“I am afraid I must ask the same question,” Ferdinand said - his own expression had gone from confused to thoroughly befuddled.
Dorothea laughed - absolutely delighted. “Of course it’s of you, Professor.” She glanced sideways - not bothering to hide her smirk. “Surely you didn’t miss all of dear Edie’s infatuation, these last five years? Even the horses couldn’t be so oblivious as that.”
“Of course not! It was simply… not the first thing to come to mind.”
“Infatuation?” Byleth asked. 
For a long moment, they both simply stared. Byleth stared back - waiting. 
“Oh, dear…” Dorothea finally said. “Though I suppose you truly did miss these last five years.”
“Most of it.”
“But… you’ve noticed since? About Edie and… you?”
Byleth considered this. Certainly, there was something she was feeling about Edelgard, and it was one of the strongest feelings she had felt, and it was getting stronger still, but she continued to have trouble understanding any of her feelings, even the simple ones. This one was not simple. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but it was certainly not easy to figure out - it was warm, and kind of tingly in her head, and it made her feel like laughing, but it wasn’t funny…?
A very odd feeling. 
She certainly hadn’t noticed anything markedly different about Edelgard, except that she looked like and spoke even more confidently as the emperor now. Until the painting - which was why she was here in the first place. And she said as much: “Nothing except the painting.”
Dorothea stared again, then shook her head. “Hopeless. Both of you, hopeless… My dear professor, Edie is head-over-heels in love with you.”
Ferdinand spoke before Byleth could: “In love?”
Dorothea ignored him. “But she’s embarrassed. I doubt our poor little Edie has ever grappled with such tumultuous feelings. Leading a revolution is a far more straightforward matter. Especially for one of Edie’s… disposition.”
“I haven’t either,” Byleth said. Was that what to name the warm-tingly-laughing feeling? Love? She had felt love before - but even as clueless as she knew she was about feelings, she also knew there were many different kinds of love. 
Dorothea cocked an eyebrow. “So the feeling is mutual, is it?”
“I…” Thinking of Edelgard - and there was the warmth. Byleth nodded. “Yeah. It is.”
“How romantic!” Ferdinand said. “Will you tell her? And perhaps more importantly - how will you tell her? Over tea? I would be more than happy to assist in acquiring the perfect blend. Something with an infusion of rose, but sweet. Perhaps -”
“You’re thinking like a noble, Ferdie - all tradition, no grandeur. Nothing memorable.”
“I would think the symbolism would be memorable enough, Dorothea. The gift of a blend perfected solely as a gesture of love, the intimacy of a table laid out within a hidden glen, with places only for two… Are you saying such an act is not evidence of devotion, deep and abiding, and promised for all eternity?”
“I never said that. I said it was boring.”
Ferdinand pursed his lips, shook his head. “Not everything needs to be a grand stage production, Dorothea. Life is not an opera.”
“How very deep, Ferdie. You surprise me. But why not something grand and operatic?” She leaned against her elbows on the table, chin resting atop her entwined hands. “What do you think, Professor? A grand gesture, or… afternoon tea?”
“I just want Edelgard to come out of her room and talk to me again.”
“Just to be clear - are you certain it was the painting?” Dorothea asked. “Nothing else you saw? Nothing unusual happened?”
Byleth thought back to that day - to the truncated shout that had taken her to Edelgard’s room in the first place. “I called her cute.” No more details given; Edelgard would almost certainly get even more upset if suddenly everyone knew her deepest fears - even if all those included in “everyone” were her closest allies. 
Once more, Dorothea looked absolutely delighted - and this time, Ferdinand did, too. “Did you really?” Dorothea asked - and actually turned to Ferdinand long enough to share a knowing smile. 
“Yes.” Had it been the wrong thing to say, even if it was true? Edelgard had gotten flustered, but she always got flustered when she thought she was being teased. Which she wasn’t. 
“Hmm… So you called her cute, and then saw the painting?”
Byleth nodded. 
“…Poor Edie has probably never in her life fallen into a stew of emotions quite this thick.” 
Ferdinand also nodded - a contemplative expression on his face. “I must say, I am rather jealous.”
“When once again, you’ve lost to Edie?”
“Of course not! I speak only in the most general of terms.”
“Mm-hmm - but back to the matter at hand. Edie is in love, Edie is thoroughly overwhelmed by this - and perhaps lingering uncertainty about whether the feeling is truly mutual - and rather than do the sensible thing and speak to someone, as our professor here has done, she has opted to lock herself away, because no one ever told her pining princesses don’t go looking for hidden towers of their own accord.”
“Which begs the question,” Ferdinand said, “of how to rescue the princess from the tower.”
Byleth was confused - and fairly certain that if Edelgard needed rescuing, she would rescue herself - but kept silent. It felt as if some progress was finally being made. Maybe. They had at least moved on from the “in love” aspect, anyway. 
“Which brings us back to grandeur,” Dorothea said. “No one ever knocks on the door and politely asks the evil king to please return the princess. And isn’t it always you nobles doing the breaking-and-entering in the name of rescue?”
“I hardly think breaking down Edelgard’s door is a noble idea, whatever the circumstances!”
“It’s a terrible idea,” Byleth said. Edelgard’s aim wasn’t always the best, but in the confined space of the dormitory, that would not particularly matter. 
“Metaphor, my dears.” Dorothea was leaning across the table again. “Ferdie says life isn’t an opera, but what is an opera but a grand-scale depiction of everyday life? You’re familiar with the tale of Cremina and Lycaon, are you not?”
Byleth shook her head, but Ferdinand said, “Of course. Cremina was a distant - and likely mythological - relative of House Vestra, and Lycaon the purported father of Wilhelm, founder and first emperor of Adrestia. The story claims to explain the allegiance House Vestra swore to House Hresvelg.”
“Exactly,” Dorothea said. “I always wanted to play Cremina, but wasn’t considered mature enough for the role before I left the opera… but regardless - Professor, you’re sure you are not at all familiar with the tale?”
“I don’t think so.” Her father had not been much for telling stories. Especially about princesses in towers - which was a little concerning, if this was a common occurrence. But that was something to try to figure out later. The library probably had books about it. 
“The family of Cremina did not approve of her love for Lycaon,” Dorothea said. “They saw him as little more than a savage, a guard dog of Seiros. They locked Cremina away beneath the grand home in which they lived - they were already very wealthy, while Lycaon had been nobody at all until he proved himself upon the battlefield. He knew where Cremina was being held, but had no means to rescue her.
“There was war all across Fódlan, then - for centuries, if you believe the legends. Cremina’s father was slain in battle, then, one by one, six of her seven brothers. Knowing Cremina was still locked away beneath her family home, Lycaon decided to behave like the dog they claimed that he was - he began to dig. Each day, as he worked, he sang to Cremina - his songs her only nourishment, and her songs sung back the same to him, letting him dig harder and longer with no need for food or rest. When finally he reached her, they swore to love one another for all eternity. Soon after they were wed and had a son, Cremina’s youngest and final brother returned home, having recovered from the grievous injuries he had sustained in battle. As a thank you for what Lycaon had done to save Cremina, the brother pledged his and all his descendants’ devotion to the Hresvelg line, for as long as both should remain.”
“A preposterous story, by all true historical accounts,” Ferdinand said. 
“Of course it is, Ferdie. You just said it yourself - it’s a story. A grand story of the lengths to which the hopelessly lovelorn may go. Far grander than any tea party.”
“A tea party is feasible in our current situation, unless you mean to propose the professor should somehow dig her way to Edelgard’s room?”
“Nothing like that. I meant -”
They continued this pseudo-argument, but Byleth was no longer listening. She was thinking about tea, and tea parties, and what might be a grand gesture that was like digging into an underground prison to rescue someone beloved. Something like…
She looked up, interrupting Ferdinand and Dorothea’s bickering: “I have an idea.”
-
The rope was the first thing - and this part, at least, Byleth was very familiar with how to do. Knotted around her waist, snug, but not so tight it would impede movement, and a loop around the handle of the basket. More rope to tie the heavier things within, so they wouldn’t jostle - and each arranged to serve as weight or counterweight, a trick her father had taught her when they had once moved so frequently from place to place. 
She left the basket at the far edge of the dormitory, where it wouldn’t risk hitting the overhang above the ground floor rooms. She needed to get herself up, first. 
Her idea had brought a look of delight to Dorothea’s face, and a surprised excitement to Ferdinand’s. He had, as promised, kept up his end of this grand gesture before the week was out. The rest of it was up to Byleth. 
She was no hero from some ancient legend, but she’d been climbing trees to scout for her father and those who had worked for him almost as long as she’d been able to walk - or rather, for a long enough time she could not remember having to learn to do either. Now, it was as simple as using a crate to get a height boost, and then shimmying up the column to the overhang - not a completely flat surface, some of the boards warped and loosened with age, but far more stable than a narrow branch ten meters above the ground. She would just have to step carefully. Especially with the basket - even with things tied down, pinwheeling would mean a spill inside, if not without.
She pulled the basket up now, slowly, hand over hand, adjusting carefully at every lean or noticeable shift in weight. Edelgard probably had water in her room, but it had seemed like a good idea to bring some, just in case. The evening was still early; there was no hurry to get the basket up. When it was up, though, she checked the contents - all intact; no spills. Good. She untied the rope from both the handle and her waist, tossing it to the ground to pick up later. 
The correct window - she had counted three times, to make sure she knew the one, and had climbed up on the side with the shorter distance to it. She held the basket in one hand, let the other trail against the wall, steadying her as she stepped carefully from board to board. “One,” she said, touching the windowsill. “Two. Three.” She wasn’t likely to be seen - everyone was still at dinner. 
Everyone but Edelgard. 
There was the window. And there she was. 
And for a surprised moment - surprise at herself, at yet another confusing, inescapable, inexplicable reaction - Byleth froze. She stared. 
The horns were gone. The crown, too. And the cape, the armored dress. Edelgard was cross-legged on her bed, her hair down, falling over one shoulder. Her dress was simple, almost loose - a nightgown? Bare feet. She was reading a book, and apparently nothing important, because Byleth knew the way her brow furrowed when she was intently focused on a history or military treatise. Now, her face was relaxed, her lips curled ever-so-slightly into something almost resembling a smile. 
Warmth. Tingling. A happiness that made her feel like laughing. 
Love.
Byleth rapped at the window. 
Edelgard jumped - almost sending her book flying - and whipped around, all the easy enjoyment in her expression wiped away in an instant. She looked tense, now, and - of course - more than ready to protect herself. 
Her eyes found Byleth. Byleth waved. 
For a long time, Edelgard stared. Her cheeks flushed red - anger, or embarrassment?  Byleth had no idea. Finally, at a loss, she held up the basket. 
Maybe grand gestures befitting an opera had not been the way to go. Still, at least she had brought Ferdinand’s plan as well. She pointed at the basket and said, “Tea!” Even if Edelgard probably couldn’t hear her. It would be a pretty simple word to lipread. 
Now there was the furrowed brow. But Edelgard pushed up from the bed and came to open the window. 
Bylth tried her best at a smile. She felt like smiling, and just about everyone seemed to think it was the friendly thing to do. In the right circumstances, anyway - hopefully this counted. She held the basket a little higher. “Hi, Edelgard. I brought things for tea. And sandwiches, since you weren’t at dinner again.”
Edelgard’s flush deepened, and she glanced away - roughly in the direction of the dining hall. “Hubert’s been bringing me… Nevermind. Come in before someone sees you. Or you manage to break your neck.”
“I won’t get hurt.” But Byleth did as told, placing the basket on the long shelf that ran beneath the window, then climbing in after it. There was a fire going - that was good. She hadn’t been able to think of a way to keep the water in the basket warm. And besides,  if she had, the condensation on the little kettle might have made the sandwich bread soggy. That seemed like the sort of little thing Byleth was supposed to remember other people did not appreciate. 
“You might if you ever do that again,” Edelgard said. “What in the world were you thinking?”
“You wouldn’t answer your door. So I asked Dorothea and Ferdinand what to do.”
“Dorothea and -” Edelgard put a hand to her forehead, rubbing as if it ached. “Of course.”
“Do you want tea?”
“I… Yes. I suppose. Let’s… have tea.”
A good sign? Not a rescue from an underground prison, but better than being yelled at through the door. “I brought a blanket.” Opening the basket, untying the ropes holding everything in place. “Like a picnic. Dorothea said that would be romantic.”
She paused in her unpacking and looked up at the sound of Edelgard spluttering. “Romantic?” 
“Yes. Is that a bad thing?”
“It’s… no. But… I’m not…” She could see Edelgard tensing, just as she had that day two weeks ago. “This might be a bad time, actually. You should go. We can… we can have tea another day. Perhaps tomorrow. Hubert will be here soon.”
Byleth took her hands off the basket. She looked at Edelgard - at her eyes. Her cheeks were still red, her lips pursed, but her eyes… There was fear there. A naked vulnerability. 
She doesn’t understand feelings, either. Not these, anyway. Maybe for Edelgard, love wasn’t warm-tingly-laughing. Or maybe it was, but it didn’t come with curiosity - it came with terror. Byleth felt no pain from it. But Edelgard…
“I’m sorry,” Byleth said. 
“You’re…?”
“I shouldn’t have said it like that. I should have just said I miss you. And talking to you, and having tea with you. Which I do. I like seeing you, Edelgard.”
Edelgard’s eyes looked away, but she made a little noise that was almost a laugh. “I’m no good at this. Not with you. I like seeing you, as well. I… I suppose I should be the one apologizing. I certainly know… the pain of missing others. Even when they’re not truly far away. I overreacted. I was…” She shook her head. “Let’s prepare the tea. There are… more things I should have told you quite some time ago.”
It was warm, too, doing it together - not tingly, no laughter, but definitely warm. Edelgard took a careful sniff of the tea blend, making a face. “That’s… different. Ferdinand?”
“Ferdinand.”
…Very, very warm. 
Edelgard showed little interest in the food, but did cradle her teacup in her hands. Maybe they were cold - she didn’t have her gloves on. Her skin was pale, and Byleth could catch occasional glimpses of the scars running up her arms, beneath the loose sleeve of her dress. Did that mean something - that Edelgard did not try to hide them; seemed to have all but forgotten them? It felt as if it meant so much more than simple trust. 
As did what Edelgard said, looking down rather fixedly at her cup. “You saw it. The portrait.”
“Just for a second.”
Edelgard shook her head. “Nevermind that. I was the one who left it out. I wanted to explain… why. Why I painted it in the first place. I don’t think anyone would ever mistake me for a master artist.”
Dorothea had said infatuation. Dorothea had said love. And still, perhaps she was right - but there were things she likely did not know about Edelgard. Things it seemed likely almost no one knew. There might be infatuation, there might be love, but there was something more. So Byleth said nothing. She drank her tea. She waited, watching Edelgard attempt to gather her thoughts. 
Finally, Edelgard took a deep breath, and said, “I forget things.” She swallowed visibly. She was clutching the teacup tightly enough that her knuckles had gone white. “Not so much anymore, but… I’m always afraid that I will. You remember what I told you - of what happened to my siblings?”
“When they��”
“When they were killed. When…” Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head again. “After, I realized the gaps, in my memory. I had to be reminded of things - things that had only happened days or weeks before. I could only remember the faces of my younger brother and sister as they had been before I left - they were hardly more than babies! - not as the older children they’d become. The youngest was almost nine years old, hardly a toddler - but even now, when I try to imagine him, he’s no more than a tiny, babbling, fat-cheeked thing.” She looked, finally, at Byleth. “You know that I spent several years in the Kingdom, with my uncle?”
“Yes. Not the details, though.”
Edelgard made that almost-laugh noise again, but there was no humor in it at all. “Don’t expect the details from me. I don’t remember that, either. I knew I’d been away from home, but more than once had to be reminded of where I’d been taken, and with whom, and why.”
She took another deep breath, and let it out slowly - almost a sigh. “Like I said, it isn’t so bad now, but… when you disappeared…” She put the cup down, and, once more, her gaze with it. “I was afraid I might forget you, too. Your face. Your voice. Forget… all of it. And I couldn’t stand that. To lose someone else…” Her hands shook - she laced her fingers together, but Byleth had already seen. “I painted before I could forget. And when you came back… I realized all I had already gotten wrong. The length of your nose. The shape of your chin. I found the painting again because I needed to fix it. In case… in case…” Her voice broke, and she pressed her lips together, almost savagely. Forcing away the sorrow. Forcing away feeling. 
“Edelgard.” Byleth wanted to crawl closer, gather her up, hold her until it was better. Another strange, insistent, new desire - Edelgard might battle her own feelings into submission, but Byleth had no idea how to do that. But she couldn’t do what she wanted. Not now. Not yet. She contented herself with leaning forward, elbows on her knees. “I’m sorry.”
“As you’ve already said.” Edelgard’s voice was soft and low. 
“I’m sorry I was gone.”
A pause - then Edelgard was looking at her once more. “Just… would you be willing to promise me something? I know it’s presumptuous, and perhaps asking too much, but -”
“What?”
Those eyes - those bold, determined eyes. “I know I cannot ask you to promise to keep yourself safe - such is not the nature of war - nor can I ask you to promise to stay by my side.”
“I will, though.”
She almost smiled - not quite, but almost. “Promise me, my teacher… if you ever do choose to leave, or if you must leave… you’ll do me the courtesy of telling me, before you go? I will not try to stop you. Your life, and your path, are your own.”
My life and my path are alongside yours. But as earlier had shown, it was not yet the time for such words. So Byleth just nodded. “I promise.” She cocked her head. “Now you have to promise something, too.”
“Making demands of an emperor and commander of an army?” Edelgard raised an eyebrow, but she was finally smiling. Genuinely smiling. “That’s quite the bold move.”
“Dorothea said gestures should be grand.”
“Dorothea thinks like a minstrel. But go ahead - what would you ask?”
“Promise we can keep doing this.”
“Doing…?”
“Having tea. And talking. And you tell me what’s bothering you. Now, and until the war ends, and after the war ends. I know feelings are hard, but you can tell me about them. I’m trying to learn them.”
Again, for a long moment, Edelgard just stared at her - assessing her. Almost scrutinizing. 
Then - a single, firm nod. “Yes. I think I can make that promise. I do promise.”
It was Byleth’s turn to smile - as best she could. Inside her was warm, and tingly, and felt like laughing. 
A promise from Edelgard seemed a grand gesture indeed. 
226 notes · View notes
stones-x-bones · 3 years
Text
Classic Blunder || Ben and Bex
TIMING: Current PARTIES: @professorbcampbell and @inbextween SUMMARY: Ben finds Bex reading alone in the hallway and decides she’s quite a remarkable find. CONTENT: Brief Domestic Abuse mention
Being back at school was a strange feeling. Bex was eager to be back, she did love learning after all, but the strangeness of it came from sitting through hour long lectures about modern law and criminal justice systems, because despite trying to convince herself that she could still do this, she really didn’t want to be doing this. There was a meager acceptance as she sulked through her mandatory classes of the day, only to give herself the gifts of her electives-- A Timeline Of History Before Humans and, of course, Professor Beck’s class, Our Monsters, Ourselves: Recognizing the Other in Speculative Literature-- after them. She always came away feeling refreshed from them, especially now more so that she was living at Morgan’s. Going home to a place that didn’t feel...suffocating was nicer than Bex had ever imagined. But, that still left a lingering fear in her-- because, ultimately, she’d have to go home one day. And it was probably going to have to be someday soon. So perhaps the strangeness was more a feeling of bittersweet, because despite the bruises now fading on her skin, and the cuts closing up, the things that brought her joy also reminded her of the fact that they would not last. They simply could not. 
Morgan’s class had ended a while ago, but Bex still lingered in the hallway. She was reading one of the books she’d borrowed from Morgan’s library, about Ancient History and how the stories of the past influence modern literature. There was only one bench in the hallway and she’d curled up on it, letting the masses of students wander by, not paying much attention to them and they paid little attention to her. But she remained even after the halls had cleared and more classes had started, lost in her book. She didn’t even notice the footsteps in the hallway, or the man approaching her.
Shutting his attache case with a final sigh, Ben stood up from his desk and shut the door to his office. It had been a long day of grading, office hours, and a department meeting, but it was worth it in the end. Making the right appearances, maintaining a good work flow, ensuring that his end of semester feedback responses were just where they needed to be-- it was all a balancing act. And it was an act he excelled at. Locking the door behind him, Ben made his way through the winding hallways of his building towards the exit. As he made his way through the halls, his forehead creased as caught sight of a young woman lost in a book. “I hope you don’t have a class to be going to,” Ben commented loudly, slowing to a halt in front of the girl. “Not that I’d tell on you-- this isn’t high school, after all.” He said with a conspiratorial grin. “What are you reading?”
Bex nearly jumped out of her skin when the man spoke, snapping her book shut out of reflex. She looked up at him, trying to shake off the jitters that had suddenly crawled into her hands. “O-oh, no! I don’t! I just got out of class, I pro--” she stopped herself mid sentence and shook her head, “I just got done with my last class of the day, I just like, you know, the atmosphere here sometimes cause it gets real quiet and there’s usually no one around in the halls, so reading is easy, but I--” she needed to take a breath, to calm down-- “sorry. Sometimes I talk a lot when I get nervous. Not that I’m nervous! You just kind of...caught me off guard.” But he didn’t seem too perturbed by her frantic rambling and he looked like one of the nicer professors, unlike most of the ones who had permanent furrows in their brows. She looked down at the book in her hands. “Oh, um…” held it up to him, “it’s something Professor Beck lent to me. A-about the history of storytelling and how it influences modern literature and media. Do you, um, know her? Professor Beck? Are you in the lit department, too?”
Slipping his hand into the pocket of his trousers, Ben listened to her ramble with a patient smile on his face. She was one of those students. The anxious, over-eager, not yet self-assured children. Ripe for the picking. And his little gatherings, they were long overdue for a fresh face, for fresh blood. “I was only joking, I’m sorry for making you nervous.” He said with a laugh and apologetic shrug that he didn’t mean. “Or rather-- not nervous.” Ben corrected himself. Watching as she held up the book, his eyes flicked across the cover. It seemed… exactly like the kind of drivel Bitchy Fucking Beck would have in her personal collection. Modern literature and media-- what sort of study was that? Were her students analyzing movies? Or, he shuddered to think, TikToks? Disgusting. But, his expression remained politely intrigued, “Ah yes, Morgan and I are well acquainted. And no, I’m not a member of the literature department, but we work within the same college. I’m a professor of the Classics and not,” Ben let out a wry chuckle, “Literary classics. I teach Greek and Roman classics. I’m sure your book includes some references to the old mythologies and tales from back then.”
“Oh, no, it’s okay! Really! It was mostly my fault. I’m really bad at paying attention, sometimes. Especially when I’m reading a book.” Bex gave her best attempt at a reassuring smile, finding that innate part of her that needed to please adults surfacing again. She perked up a bit when he mentioned knowing Professor Beck. “You are? She’s great, don’t you think? I mean, I’m kind of struggling in her class, but it’s because I’m really bad at creative writing and critical analysis of literature, but I enjoy it! It’s interesting and I like learning new things.” She watched him eye the book before setting it down in her lap again, fiddling with the cover. “Oh, you teach the classics? That’s so cool. I’ve always been interested in studying them academically. I’ve read a lot of books on them-- like, a lot-- but I’ve never taken a class for it! And um, it sort of does, obviously! Story-telling was often used as the only means to pass on history and culture and it was such a large part of both the Greek’s and Roman’s society. I know it’s kind of typical, for people to enjoy Greek mythology, but there’s a reason it’s so popular. But, um, I don’t really have to tell you that, do I?” She chewed her lip anxiously. “Sorry, uh-- I’m Bexley, by the way.” Stood up, holding her hand out. “Professional rambler.” 
“Nothing wrong with getting lost in a good book,” Ben said with a nod, “I’m guilty of that particular crime myself.” Among other, actual crimes. But, that was neither here nor there. Watching the way her eyes seemed to light up at the mention of Beck, Ben offered a reassuring smile. She was one of these foolish children who preferred fiction to fact, hm? But, as the girl continued to speak, perhaps, he thought, not. “Ah, regardless of performance, the pursuit of knowledge is a wonderful thing. That’s why we’re all here, right?” He said. Listening patiently as the girl’s words took on a meandering, if anxious, quality, Ben regarded her with a practiced eye. She was young, she hardly looked old enough to order a drink. There was a nervous anxiety that practically bubbled over from within her-- he could see it in the way she played with her book, how she bit her lip, the skittish way she moved. Interesting, very interesting. “Oh no, I’m always happy to hear what fellow lovers of the classics have to say.” He said and shook her hand firmly, a broad smile on his face. “Ben Campbell. Professional Rambler of the Classics. If you ever have the misfortune of attending one of my classes, I can assure you, I have you beat in the rambling department.”
“Oh, do you like reading books, too? What kind? Do you have your own library? Professor Beck has a huge library at her place. She lets me pick whatever I want to read.” Bex gave the professor a genuine grin as he took her hand to shake. He had a firm grip, and she remembered all the times her father told her a man could be judged by how firm his handshake was. She still didn’t understand what that meant. “I’m trying my best, and, really, that’s all I can do right now, right?” Even if that fact still made her feel poorly. She hoped her inability to keep the waver from her voice wasn’t a dead giveaway. She shook it off and readjusted. “Nice to meet you, Professor Campbell! And, well, I mean-- who wouldn’t ramble about the Classics? There’s a lot to say about them, and a lot to, you know-- know.” She wasn’t sure she was making too much sense anymore, but the lack of sleep was getting to her. She really needed to sleep. Rubbing her eyes, she looked around the empty hallway. “Have you taught here long? This is my first year at UMWC so I don’t know a lot of the professors. Or a lot of the staff. Or...students.” She knew Mina, and she knew some of the weird kids in Morgan’s class, and she knew Frank. But that was about it. She really needed more friends. “Sorry! If I’m keeping you, you can go. You probably don’t wanna be stuck talking to some awkward student who’s not even in your class.”
With an amused smile, Ben replied, “Yes, I do. I have a rather large collection of books at my home, as well as in my office. Most of the ones I keep here are related to my classes, but my personal library at home is a bit more diverse. Still, I’m rapidly running out of room in my collection. A pretty common struggle for your average bookworm, I suppose.” He said with a chuckle. “Of course! And I’m sure your professors understand that. What are you majoring, if you don’t mind me asking?” He asked. She knew Beck-- quite closely too, it seemed. But, she’d also said she wasn’t the creative sort. Hm. So how did she know her? “It’s nice to meet as well, Bexley.” He beamed. “I’ve taught here for the past ten years. First as an adjunct but I’m now an associate. Though I doubt you wanted to know that-- suffice to say, I’ve been here for some time. How are you finding your classes? I’m always interested in hearing what students think of the matriculation process.” He said before waving off her concern. “Ah, no, I’m done for the day. Like I said. I value what our student body has to say about the university.”
Bex’s eyes lit up at his words. “You have a library here?” she couldn’t help but ask, not thinking much of it, really. She wanted to see it. Books were her only escape for the longest time. It sounded stupid and cliche, but when you were locked up in a room for most of your life, adventure was where you made it. In hallways, in blanket forts, in books under the bed. She couldn’t help the curious glow in her eyes. “Oh, yeah, I totally get that. Most of the books I have at home are stuffed in my closet, but my dad’s library is pretty big. Though, he really only has law texts and old books on, like, world wars and stuff. I never understood the appeal of them, but I guess some people just like different things. I, uh-- I’m majoring in law. Well, pre-law, but, you know.” She shrugged. “Ten years? Wow, that’s a really long time. You must know this place well.” She wondered if he knew about all the hidden secrets White Crest had. He seemed so normal. But, then again, she seemed normal, too, didn’t she? Sometimes? “Oh, no worries! I don’t mind! Tell me whatever you want, I’ve been told I’m a good listener and I never mind learning more about people. But, uh-- classes are fine! They’re-- I was out for a bit, cause I was um...sick,” she scratched at the back of her neck, “but I’m catching back up, I think. It’s nice to know a lot of the professors here care so much about the students. Penn State felt very...different.” And yet she missed it. Missed the freedom. “That’s where I transferred from. I actually grew up here, but I don’t ever really feel like I did, since my parents sent me to private school.” And there she went, oversharing again. She bit her lip. “Sorry, that was probably more information than you wanted from someone who’s not even in your class.”
“Library is a strong word to describe my office, it’s just a wall with some shelves. But, it’s rather comprehensive, if I do say so myself.” Ben said with faux modesty. Always better to play the bashful professor than to yammer on about how much time and money and effort he had put into his collection. Particularly the money. There were first editions in his collection that librarians dreamed of. “I can’t say I understand the interest in the world wars either, but again. I’m a professor of antiquity. Anything beyond 6th century AD is too new for my tastes. It’s a wonder I can even use a smartphone.” He smiled at his own little joke. “Pre-law, that’s got quite the courseload. How are you finding it compared to Penn state?” He asked, shifting his weight so he could stand more comfortably, his body language relaxed and open as he listened to her ramble. “No, no, it’s quite alright. I grew up in town as well, but I went to college elsewhere, so I can understand that sentiment.”
“Wow,” Bex breathed, “I’m a bit jealous. I think it’s my dream one day to just have an entire room full of books. I...guess that’s really just a library, but they wouldn’t even need to be shelved. Stacks on stacks would be nice. I would shelve the nice ones, though. I’m not a heathen, I take care of my books!” In a way, Professor Campbell almost reminded Bex of Morgan. Less wiccan, though, and more scholarly. “Oh, really? What’s your favorite period? And, well, smartphones can be confusing, but really they’re just small computers. If you ever need help, I can probably show you. I had to show someone else recently how to use her smart phone cause she couldn’t figure out how to change the background wallpaper.” She swallowed, nodding maybe a little too eagerly. “Yeah, yep-- heavy course load. Lots of reading and citing and making sure everything is exactly word for word. My whole family is lawyers and they’ve all got degrees from Harvard, so you’d think it’d come naturally to me, but I guess I didn’t get the right genes. I’m trying my best, though, you know? And UMWC is...smaller than Penn, but I guess it feels...cozier? I liked the freedom I had at Penn state, but it was really high pressure. A lot of the kids in my program here just seem really bored, though. This isn’t a top school for pre-law so you have to get really high scores in order to even think about getting into Yale or Harvard or Princeton, so I think a lot of them are resigned to just going to second rate grad schools. Where’d you go to college?”
“Sounds like the dream of a fellow scholar,” Ben said, voice kind and understanding. She seemed young, impressionable. Eager to learn, eager to please. Interesting. How very interesting. “I’ve gone through the stacks of books phase myself, I know how that is. But, having shelves just really ties a room together. There’s nothing quite like seeing all the spines laid out, the titles staring back at you. It’s a wonderful thing.” He said with a nod. “I’m quite a fan of the first century of the Roman Empire. Marcus Aurelius, his works still hold to this day.” At the girl’s offer, he let out a small laugh, though internally he wanted to roll his eyes. He wasn’t inept. “I appreciate the gesture, but I think I’ll be fine. Thank you for the offer, though!” He said. As she continued to speak-- on and on, about her family, about her inane observations of what the campuses were like-- Ben continued to mentally measure and weigh her. This Bexley girl, she was new to the university, still trying to find her footing. She didn’t know many people, students or staff, she’d admitted that herself. She seemed as though she was struggling with that critical jump that all students experienced when they entered college. And who was he to withhold aid from a student in need? “Ah, I went to Princeton actually. For both undergrad and my doctorate. But, UMWC is still an upstanding school-- it’s no Ivy League, but I can assure you, faculty here are providing just as rigorous of an academic experience.”
“Well, I mean, that would be nice,” Bex sighed, “I don’t think I’d mind teaching all too much, but I’ve already got my future career all planned out.” Not that she was all too excited about it, and she was more than sure that it was getting harder and harder for her to hide that fact. SHe laughed it off and gave a smile. “I can’t wait to have my own library, it really does sound like a dream come true.” Her eyes perked up. “Oh, that’s a good one! The rise of the Roman Empire really is one of the most incredible things to read about. I’ve always wanted to go to Rome and see the remains of the old empire. Have you been?” She smiled up at him again, shifting in her spot. :Ah, right, of course. I just kinda-- like to offer to help. I like feeling like I can help, you know? And, wow, Princeton! That’s a pretty prestigious school. I think my parents really want me to go to Harvard. Did you like Princeton? And yeah, totally! I-I know this school is pretty great and there are a lot of wonderful professors, it just usually helps being at an Ivy League if you wanna get in somewhere like Harvard. Or Princeton. So I’ll just have to, you know, try harder. Which is fine! I can do that.” And hopefully not run herself too ragged in the process.
“As cliche as it is, I can’t help but quote John Lennon-- Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” Ben said, shamelessly using the quote. It was very “motivational poster-esque” but it resonated in students, for one reason or another. “So who’s to say what the future holds? I never thought I’d be a professor either, but I fell in love with academics during my undergraduate degree. Once I figured out that I wanted to teach the coming generations, who all shared my passion? I never looked back.” He replied. “Oh yes, I spent the third year of my doctoral program across Europe, assisting in archeological digs. I must say, I was jealous when I heard they uncovered the tomb of Romulus last February. I would have given anything to see that.” Ben let out a sigh and gave a shrug. As she continued on, babbling away, Ben was beginning to put together a nice little picture of her life. Overbearing parents, who wanted her to be something that-- well, he couldn’t quite tell if she wanted to be that. But, there was a hesitation to her that seemed quite promising. “I enjoyed my experience there quite a bit-- the environment, my peers, the professors… All of them were incredibly influential on my professional journey. And I owe my success to the university.” He smiled, though it faded as she mentioned trying harder. Eyebrows knitting together, he replied, “You know, rest is a very critical part of growth. It never hurts to take a break from time to time.”
Bex felt her immediate reaction bubbling up her throat-- John Lennon was such a problematic man, but of course a white cis man would think his quotes were profound-- but she swallowed it back down, smiling sweetly. “Sometimes cliche is true, though. They’re cliche for a reason, right?” She didn’t like the implication of it, though. Was she so transparent? That she didn’t want the life her parents had laid out for her? She rubbed her arm absently. “I know that, though. That I should stop and enjoy life. But what I want is kind of irrelevant. My family has been lawyers for centuries and every daughter has always taken over the business. So even if I don’t wanna do that, I don’t really have a choice.” But her grievance was immediately dismissed. “Wait-- you’ve been on digs? Like real, actual, digs!? Where you found stuff and you got to-- you got to see it first hand? Which digs? Where were they? What did you find? Oh, god, I nearly cried when they found Romulus’ tomb! What an amazing discovery! Can you even imagine being there for that? Or the new tomb they found in the Valley of King’s? It always feels like we’ve discovered so much, but then we just keep finding more and it’s amazing.” She couldn’t help the sparkle in her eye or the shine in her voice-- this was her true passion and the worst part about being a lawyer was that it made it impossible to chase. “Wow, Princeton sounds amazing. I haven’t done a campus visit yet, but I’ve heard good things about Harvard. If I make it in.” She withdrew a little at that. “I-- I know. And I did! Take a break. Sort of. It was an unintended break, but a break all the same.” If being in a nightmarish dreamscape counted as a break. 
“Indeed.” Ben said affably, eyes still analyzing her every move. The way she shifted in place, the way she rubbed her arm, the way her smile seemed a fraction less genuine than it had before. It seemed she wasn’t one for John Lennon. Suited him just fine, the Beatles were vastly overrated and John Lennon was a musician, what bearing did he have on anything that mattered? “I’m just a professor, so… please, you don’t need to take this to heart. But, life is meant to be lived, is it not? And what’s more important to life than choice? The freedom to live as you please and to live without wondering how things might have been different, it’s incredibly important.” He said with a firm nod before easing back slightly, his eyes losing some of their intensity. It seemed as though his mention of his field work had piqued her interest though, which was something else he made note of. If they met again-- and he would make a point of meeting her again-- he would have to bring that up. “I did. Truly incredible, the discovery they made there was absolutely groundbreaking. Literally, given how the dig went.” Ben joked. “History is absolutely like that. Just when we think we know it all, our ancestors surprise us.” Glancing down at his watch, Ben raised his eyebrows, as though startled by how much time had passed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you. It’s not everyday I meet such a remarkable student like yourself, though.” Reaching into his jacket, he withdrew one of his cards and handed it to Bex. “If you’re ever interested in talking more-- about archeology or the Ivy Leagues, please feel free to contact me. I also have office hours on Thursday and Fridays, my door is open to you.” He said with a bright, toothy smile. 
Bex went still when he started explaining. It was the same things Morgan always told her, that her choice mattered, her wants mattered-- but it wasn’t as easy as all that. She had duties, she had responsibilities. Leaving that life just wasn’t an option. Her parents had made sure to drill that into her from a young age. This was her life, this would always be her life. She had no choice. Her eyes sank to the floor, she no longer felt brave enough to look him in the eye, even as he described his incredible experience of being part of a dig, being a part of history itself. It should have made her heart flutter to hear about it, but something inside of her told her to stop letting herself believe that one day she might get to have something like that, too. She nodded slowly. “No, it’s fine! You didn’t keep me,” she said, trying to keep the smile plastered to her face as she glanced up enough to take the card he was offering her. She stared at the neatly typed words pressed onto the paper. Benjamin Campbell. Professor of the Classics. His information was included below the title. “Remarkable?” she repeated, unsure if she’d heard that word right. “But I’m not even--” in any of his classes. But as she looked at him, she knew the offer was genuine. Her smile came a little easier this time. “Thank you. Really. For-- for this.” She pocketed the card. “It was really great to meet you, Professor. I’ll um-- I’ll see you around. I usually tend to read here most days so, you know.” She chewed her lip before grabbing her bag. “Thanks. A-again.” She needed to stop saying thanks, Mina would kill her if she knew. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.” And then with that, she scurried off, the business card, and a million questions, burning a hole in her pocket. She couldn’t wait to talk to him again-- maybe things really weren’t as bad as they felt. Maybe she could have a good life here.
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omg omg omg please can you write anything about yen? i literally love how you write for her, and also there’s barely any fanfics of her so please !! 🥺👉👈
Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Yennefer x Reader Word Count: 916 Rating: T Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me @daydreamer-in-training @morelikebyesexual a/n: First of all, god bless and keep you and thank you for your sweet words. Also, this could not be more clearly a part one and I’m not sure what exactly that part two will be but it’ll happen sometime.
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She hummed a quiet tune as she stroked your hair, alternating between the comb and her fingers. You were cradled against her chest, sitting between her legs, eyes closed as you enjoyed the scent of lilacs and gooseberries and the tiny kisses she pressed against your cheek. If anyone at the academy had walked in on you, they would have been stunned. The stoic professor and the haughty mage were usually embroiled in conflict or at best cool disdain when forced to be around each other on campus. Few knew that it was a ruse you’d concocted together to maintain your privacy. And, you both secretly felt, because it made your evenings together all the more exciting.
There were times the ruse grew hard to keep up. More than once you’d walked in to find her perched by the windowsill, long dark tresses falling over her shoulders and a soft smile on her face as she gazed outside. The violet eyes, already calm and happy, would grow even softer and even happier in the flitting moment she saw you before she recalled her role. More than once she’d walked into the library and found you, chin propped up on your elbows, a quill stuck I your hair and ink spots on your fingers and she would feel a tightening in her chest that she could only call love. You would look up at her, one of the few people or things that could steal away your attention when you were working, and your eyes would widen and she could nearly hear your heart skip a beat from across the room. And then you would sneer and huff, even if there was no one else around, just in case.
Sometimes your playing became more charged than either of you anticipated, blurring the lines between acting and foreplay as you traded barbs and your words grew vehement, bitten out in low growls that reminded each other of nights tangled up together with just as much passion.
But your favorite moments, perhaps, were these.
The soft moments before or after the displays of rage or act of lust. The times when she would hold you and sing to you and make you feel like something treasured and whole. She would wrap her body around you like a dragon guarding its horde and you felt a sense of safety that you never felt anywhere else in your life with anyone else.
“Someday,” she whispered in your ear, “You will be mine in a way that no one can protest. Someday I will sneak in and steal you away. None of them deserve you. Nobody does. But nobody would try harder to than me and that is why I will win you yet.”
“You’ve already won me,” you laughed, turning your head to meet her violet eyes, “The very instant you say the word I will stand on the tallest structure around me and scream as loud as I can that I am yours.”
“I do like it when you scream,” Yennefer purred, pressing a kiss against your throat and feeling your pulse quicken beneath her lips.
“I’m serious,” you said, using all of your willpower to still her hand that snaked between your legs, “What would happen if we did?”
Yennefer’s eyes grew solemn, the smile falling from her lips as a pained expression crossed her features. Your heart pounded with a new sensation; anger.
“What is it?” you asked breathlessly.
“There are people who would pay very dearly to find a weakness to exploit,” the mage said.
“Who?” you asked, rage thundering in your chest at the very thought that someone would make her fearful or try and make what you had something you had to hide. It was one thing when it was a fun ruse and a convenient way to prevent gossip; it was another to be told you couldn’t speak of it. That you couldn’t really claim her for your own.
“People it is better not to speak of. And frankly so many I can hardly keep track anymore. I am not a well-liked woman,” Yennefer said with a rueful smile.
“Are you in danger?” you asked, suddenly realizing how little you knew about the mage who had walked into the school and changed your life forever. You had fallen with dizzying speed, foregoing your usual questions and concerns, and now you feared what you may find out. Yet at the heart of it, you knew it wouldn’t change a thing. She gently brushed a lock of hair out of your face, watching her fingers as they ever so lightly grazed against your skin.
“Only as much as anyone else who tries to raise above their station,” she replied enigmatically, “But let’s not talk on that tonight. Tonight I just want to hold you.”
You had so many questions and so much to say but her eyes pleaded for acquiescence and you nodded with a little smile that didn’t reach your eyes. She pulled you back against her and stretched out on the fur rug you sat on and she wrapped you up in her arms tight, tighter than she ever had before. You could feel the tension and fear and frustration but at the core of it was love and concern and the wisdom to know that now was not the time to search for answers. You let her hold you and you hummed a soft song until you both fell into a restless sleep.
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Between The Pipes [Chapter 30]
Rating: M Words: 2376 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.
[Chapter Index]
Where To Read: [AO3]
Notes: Something less amazing happens.
this is the inspo for the end of the chapter, if you’re having trouble picturing it. but it’s a spoiler so don’t click it until ur done reading. :^)
Enjoy!
Anna tried to ignore her knuckles turning white as she gripped the steering wheel so tightly that she thought she might’ve been able to break it. This was it - her last game working for the Ice Breakers, and her last time getting to joke around with the boys she had grown so fond of. It wasn’t fair, but she knew better than to fight. Her father would just treat her like a petulant child and it wouldn’t change his mind anyway.
You’re never going to grow up, are you?
She had grown up. But she was starting to think no matter what she made of herself, she would never be able to be exactly what he wanted her to be. Anna didn’t know what he wanted from her anymore. Nothing she ever did would be good enough for him.
But she was starting to be okay with that.
You cooked up this whole scheme so you could sleep around again, just like in LA.
No. She had agreed to someone else’s plan to help out someone who didn’t deserve her fathers’ wrath. She had agreed to help because it was the right thing to do. The rest had simply happened.
And now… look where she had ended up.
Because of the scheme, Anna was finally with a man she knew loved her. Even if he didn’t say it. Even if nothing was official. 
He had come over the second she asked, knew she was trying to escape her own worries, stopped it, and then actually managed to make her feel better. He had caressed her and worshipped her and whispered about how special and amazing she was as he satisfied her every need. He had stayed with her all night, comforted her and made her laugh and ran to the store to get her her favorite snacks and they had just spent hours upon hours just… talking, and joking, and watching dumb movies that he let her pick out.
And in the end, he held her close and tucked her messy hair behind her ears and told her - assured her - that everything was going to be fine as they curled together on her too-small bed.
And then he kissed her, for the millionth time that night, and she knew he was right.
This hadn’t been what she wanted to do with her life. This hadn’t been her dream. She had been dragged away from everything she knew and thrown into a small town and given a job because her daddy was the owner. She had felt obligated to be grateful, to be so, so overjoyed that her father had trusted her enough to give her this opportunity. 
But, in the end, it wasn’t a job that meant very much, and it wasn’t a job that he had worried much about her screwing up. It was a throwaway, much like she had always been to him. Just a way to keep her busy and out of what he considered to be trouble, she supposed.
You’ve always been such a pain to restrain, you know that? I’ve cleaned up more of your messes than I can count.
Then Anna had begun to remember the messes he had cleaned up. Like the time her second grade teacher had physically disciplined her because she kept walking around the room, unable to focus. Or the time she punched a boy when she was fourteen because he grabbed her breast even after she had told him no. Even when she was seventeen and a professor had promised her a good grade in exchange for something special, and threatened to fail her if she hadn’t complied. 
And he had thrown money at them, and told her she needed to stop being so provocative.
She hadn’t realized the implications at the time. Looking back and realizing what he had been implying, Anna could feel anger starting to bubble up in her stomach. 
A short knock on her window startled her and she swung her head around so fast she could’ve sworn she had given herself whiplash, but she let out an audible sigh of relief when it was just Kristoff, hunched over and smiling softly at her through the glass.
“You okay?”
He was muffled, but she could still hear the concern lacing his words. 
You’re going to go out there tomorrow, and you’re going to show your idiot father exactly what he’s giving up.
Anna unbuckled herself and got out quickly, practically throwing her body into his waiting arms. He had left early this morning - not because he wanted to, but because he really had needed to go to morning skate and get home for a solid nap to make sure he was up for playing tonight. They were playing the Stallions again, and he knew it would be a tough fight. Luckily, the second she was back in his embrace, Anna could feel all the day’s tension draining from her body.
“Hey,” Kristoff mumbled into her hair, dropping his duffel as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “How’re you feeling?”
She pulled back just enough to catch his gaze. “A lot better, actually. I…” Her hands came from behind his neck to lay gently on his cheeks. “Thank you. I can’t… I’m not even sure how to express how much last night meant.”
There was a hemming sound from beside them that sounded enough like her father to catch her off guard, but Anna knew he didn’t care enough to be here for her last night. Looking behind Kristoff, she physically relaxed when she saw Sven laughing and winking as he walked by. “Shut up, Pederson!”
“Stop being nasty, Arne!” He spun on his heel to keep looking at them as he walked towards the arena. “Bjorgman, don’t tire yourself out - there’s still plenty of hockey to be played in there.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder. “Even if it’s less fun than the hockey you’re playing out here.”
Anna couldn’t help the snort that blew through her nose and looked up just in time to see Kristoff rolling his eyes as he turned his head back to face her. “He’s fucking annoying. Don’t know why I put up with him.” The smile teasing at his lips was enough to make her heart beat harder behind her ribs.
She loved him, so much.
And she wasn’t sure what was going to happen if she had to leave.
It had thrown her off when her father had actually shown his face at this game. She was coming back from getting mic’d to listen to Coach Mattias’ pep talk, when she heard his voice call her name. “Anna.” 
It was so empty. When she turned to face him and saw the lack of empathy on his features, she felt herself growing angry all over again.
“Yes?”
He rolled his eyes. “I trust that you won’t be doing anything… drastic tonight?”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Anna felt her frown deepen. “Like what? Tell everyone how you’ve fired me unfairly? Explain that you’re taking the word of a - frankly, quite horrid - person over mine? Or do you think I’d just strip naked and fuck my boyfriend in the middle of the rink.”
“Anna.” His voice was barely a hiss.
“Well you seem to think pretty lowly of me, father.” His eyes were narrowed as he stared her down, as if daring her to make a wrong move. “Well,” she breathed, straightening her back and dropping her hands back to her sides. “Lucky for you, here I am a professional, and I’d never risk ruining anyone’s livelihood.” 
She heard his voice again in the back of her head.
You’re coming back home, where I can keep an eye on you.
“And…” She felt herself stutter slightly as she tried to keep her composure. “I’m not coming back home. I… I like living on my own. I like living here. And…” She kept her eyes locked onto his, channeling her strongest will to dare him to challenge her. “That’s final.”
He hardly scoffed. As if he didn’t want to make a scene. “We’ll see.”
And she stood there, waiting, shaking slightly in her skin as he walked away, not letting herself deflate until he was out of sight. Anna could feel panic rising in her throat, threatening to boil over into a full-blown attack. She had made it so concrete. She hadn’t given herself an ounce of wiggle room. If she didn’t have a job, she wouldn’t even be able to afford her tiny box of an apartment. What was she going to --
“Anna?”
Oh, she adored that voice.
“You said you were coming down for --” She turned to face him and he paused, his eyebrows knitting together. “What’s wrong?”
There was a sad smile pulling on her lips. “My father is here.”
“I thought --”
“Yeah, me too.” Kristoff clambered forward, his full gear clearly hindering him off the ice, and wrapped her into a warm hug, only made slightly awkward by the stiff blocker digging into her back. “I guess he wanted to make sure I left peacefully.”
“What an asshole. Want me to fire a puck at his face?”
She snorted as she nodded into his chest, leaning into his warmth. “Yeah, honey. Knock his teeth out.”
He leaned back just enough to look at her. Anna could see small tears brimming on his bottom lashes, and she had never felt more cared for. “Hey, just go out there, and do what you do. We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”
Anna lifted herself to her tippy toes, not even close to tall enough to reach him when he had skates on, as she puckered her lips just slightly to let him know exactly what it was she wanted. He met her halfway with a grin, and she relished the tenderness of this kiss. “You’re amazing,” he mumbled against her as they parted.
For the first time, she was starting to believe it.
Kristoff was playing erratically tonight.
There was a ferocity in his game that Anna was unfamiliar with as he dove and hit and bodily put himself between other players and the net. He was absolutely on fire, and Anna couldn’t help but gush about him to every single person she was speaking to that night. But it was far from his usual play style, and when it didn’t let up, she found herself growing a little further to the worried side of the meter.
It didn’t help that they were playing Hans’ team, and that Warren was being a little weasel.
During warm-ups, Kristoff had come over towards her to say something, and suddenly a puck was ricocheting off of the glass right next to them. She had jumped, startled, and when Kristoff’s head snapped around, he caught the last glimpse of Warren making some sort of gesture towards Hans. 
Mattias was screaming at him for not being more careful, and he simply apologized and said it wouldn’t happen again.
Anna heard him mutter something under his breath, something she could have sworn was along the lines of wanting that asshole off the team, but she couldn’t be sure. Kristoff lowered his head to meet her, his gloves pressing into her shoulders. “You good?”
She nodded, trying her best to ignore the new prickle of anxiety on the back of her neck. “You?”
“Want to strangle him, but that’s nothing new.”
Anna had laughed, but now as she watched him play, she wasn’t so sure he had been kidding.
Not a single puck had gotten by him in the last two periods and you could see the tension growing between the two teams. Westergaard had broken two sticks so far trying to land a slapshot as fast as possible, hoping just sheer force would get one past the brick wall that was Kristoff Bjorgman. He continued to have no luck.
It wasn’t until the third period that things started getting dirty.
There were more unnecessary hits, more high sticks and elbows and roughing and penalties being called left and right. Anna had stayed on the edge of her seat the whole time, grimacing everytime a puck came close to hitting Kristoff’s mask. 
With eleven minutes to spare, Anna noticed something strange happening in the Stallions’ huddle. Something venomous spread across the face of their forwards, and Anna tapped nervously on the arm of Sven. “Hey - um… I’ve just got a really bad feeling --”
“Huh?”
He looked at her for about half a second before both of their eyes turned back to the ice, the Stallions racing to their goal with ease. The positioning seemed normal enough, but Kristoff’s eyes were locked on the men passing the puck back and forth in front of him. There were players behind him, players he didn’t see, and Anna gripped at the boards with tense fingers, watching as Westergaard started speeding up the wing.
In a flash, the puck was shot, rebounding to the side, and Kristoff was looking for it for just a second as Hans came forward, scored, and didn’t stop. He crashed into the goalie, full force as he jumped into the air, stick up in celebration, and practically tackled Kristoff to the ground.
There was a thud as his head hit the ice.
Kristoff did not move.
Sven was out there in a flash, grabbing fistfuls of jersey, and landing one clean punch against Hans’ jaw as other teammates followed, and medical ran out more carefully behind them.
Kristoff still wasn’t moving. 
The refs were blowing whistles, always nervous to get between angry hockey players throwing fists, and eventually Anna could see his mask off to the side, his legs moving just slightly as the medical team moved him onto his side. Sven abandoned the fight, his gloves long forgotten, as he knelt down behind Kristoff, gently helping them turn him.
It was dead silent in the rink. 
She begged, her fingers clenching the edge of the boards even tighter, for him to just get up. If he could skate himself off the ice, it wasn’t that bad. If he would just get the hell up, she wouldn’t be so worried…
Get up, god damn it, get up.
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teriwrites · 3 years
Text
the big manuscript search tag
I’m compiling a bunch of different tags from @cecilsstorycorner and @akindofmagictoo so this might be a long one!
My words to find: lonely, cup, drown, routine, deep, feather, rich, contact, kick, sun, pair, whisper, king, chord, chip, prove, mix, spin, water, color, need, fade, everyday
...yeah, that’s really long, so I’m going to throw the results in a read more to spare all your feeds from a wall of text
There’s a few words that don’t appear in one project or another, so I’m going to use both Castle on the Hill and Beneath Alder Creek! Because of that, the order won’t be quite the same
Castle on the Hill:
Lonely:
For the first day of break, Hans spent the entire day lounging around his house. His mother said nothing about it, except to suggest moving to a new spot every few hours so that he wouldn’t cramp up. She was in and out of the house a lot, which Hans took as a good sign. The harder days were those in which his mother spent most of it upstairs, locked away in her room. Hans had been allowed to join her, if he wished, but he’d preferred not to see her in such a state. Still, it had led to many a lonely afternoon.
Cup:
The following morning, Peter made the short trek over to the familiar cafe for his second date with Ursula. Despite having left five minutes early, Peter arrived to find Ursula already waiting at a table, with a cup of coffee in hand. He beelined for the table and tossed his blazer onto the back of the chair across from her. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” “No worries, I enjoyed the walk,” Ursula said brightly.
Drown:
“You seemed pretty smitten with this tutor girl,” Peter mused. The sounds of a dramatic breakup on the television nearly drowned him out. He fished the remote from the coffee table and muted the television. Klaus looked between Peter and Georg, who were both sending him matching smug expressions. Georg dramatically batted his eyes at Klaus, who shoved him in the shoulder and nearly sent him toppling over the side of the couch. “Come off it,” he dismissed with a snort. “I barely know her. She’s a fox, sure, but I’m not going to lose my head over a girl I’ve met once. Klaus Müller is always on the make.” Georg leaned forwards to look at Peter. “He’s speaking in the third person again.”
Routine:
“Alrighty, now that that’s out of the way, who wants to tell me what year the European Economic Community was established?” Prof. Dietrich asked brightly, shifting back into his regular routine of starting a lecture with an oral quiz. Josef avoided the man’s eye contact, choosing instead to pretend to be desperately jotting down notes. “Herr Weber? How about you give it a shot?”
Feather:
The rest of the class shifted their attention back to the lecture, but Josef’s face flushed as he fished out his notebook from his bag. He could practically hear the stories that would be circulating later. Josef Weber, the snobby inheritor to his father’s auto company, got scolded in front of a whole class. Wouldn’t that just put a feather in quite a few caps?
Rich:
“Tell me why I didn’t decide to work as a janitor,” Klaus muttered. “You’d never succeed as a janitor; you never even had to clean your own messes growing up.” One of Klaus’ arms snapped forwards and a smack that was aiming for Georg’s shoulder instead slapped smartly against the wooden back of his chair. With a sharp intake of breath, Klaus straightened in his seat. As he rubbed at his knuckles, Klaus shot back, “That’s rich, coming from a lawyer’s son.”
Chord:
“It’s a little complicated right now,” Hans said calmly. “Look, I’ve talked it all over with my mother, and she agreed that it would be best for me to stay here. It’s not that long, Josef, don’t look at me like that.” The doubt etched into Josef’s features was enough to warrant the comment, and he shook his head to try clearing it. Nothing in Hans’ demeanor pointed towards it being a lie, but something in the idea struck a false chord in him.
Water:
Though he'd managed to subdue most of his panic, Peter felt it all rushing back. A sudden pain at his hand drew him out of his thoughts, and he realized that he'd been aggressively stirring the pasta, and some of the water had splashed out of the pot.
Fade(d):
As Hans spoke, Professor Abend’s face lit up with recognition, which quickly faded into a solemn mourning. The exam lay on the desk between the two, forgotten. “I knew I had a Faust in one of my classes, but I never thought to make a connection,” Professor Abend said in a low voice.
Beneath Alder Creek:
Deep:
A deep breath, and then Winnie followed through, dragging her other foot into the creek. The water rose halfway up her calf, and continued to rise as she made her way forwards. To her thigh, then her hip, and finally up to her waist. It was the second dress she’d soaked that day, Winnie thought with a wry smile, and, in her distraction, she failed to notice a large rock in the creek bed. It could hardly be considered a fall. Winnie pitched forwards, plunging her face into the creek for only a moment before she caught her balance and straightened up. But she’d opened her mouth as she tripped, and her rise was met with a violent coughing fit. Loose strands of hair clung to her face, making it impossible to see, and Winnie pushed forwards carefully by feeling along the bottom with her foot. The progression was slow, but Alder Creek was by no means wide, and it wasn’t long before Winnie found the water beginning to ebb away. As she pulled herself out of the creek, Winnie brushed the hair from her face and finally opened her eyes. Looking to where she’d seen the fairy ring, she froze.
Contact(ing):
Contacting the fae was no easy feat; they only made appearances of their own volition, not subscribing to any convenient timetable. While it was said that certain holidays brought the mortal world closer to their realm, years had passed before any signs revealed their presence. By then, the couple had been so eager that they’d wasted no time in seeking out a deal. They were the fourth and fifth victims within the fifteen years. Nobody had been so hasty since.
Kick(ing):
Back into the bog. Winnie no longer worried herself with her skirts, allowing them to drag through the stagnant water. It was a mistake, she soon discovered, as the drenched fabric weighed her down and made the progress even slower. With an exasperated groan, she stomped at the ground, kicking up a spray and lodging her boot into the mud.
Sun:
Time steadily passed as they traveled, though how quickly or slowly it went by, Winnie couldn’t say. She could feel the blisters beginning to form on her feet, the slight ache in her shoulders where she’d slung her bag, the warmth that spread across her back as the sun’s ceaseless rays washed over them. When she fell slightly behind Taliesin, he was shining so brightly that her eyes began to burn, and she had to quicken her pace to keep in step with him.
Pair:
The first thing Winnie noticed was the boat they were standing in. It was like a skiff, sitting low in the water and directed by a pair of oars. The figure rowing seemed to be wearing some type of headgear, a hazy and elongated shape still a little too far to make out. Taliesin moved back from the shore, forcing Winnie to do the same to provide space for the skiff to breach.
Whisper:
“Don’t stare,” Taliesin reminded her in a whisper. He raised a hand in greeting, and the figure dipped their head slightly, though how they could’ve seen it without eyes, Winnie couldn’t say. “Hail, Ferryman!”
Prove(n): 
Turning away from the Llion, the group soon found themselves returning once more to the thick fog of the wetlands. Winnie took the middle, knowing better than to have Taliesin and Enid side-by-side. In one hand, she took the long sleeve of Enid’s robes, and in the other, Taliesin’s cloak. He dragged his feet the whole time, still sulking, and it took all of Winnie’s self-restraint not to let go and leave him behind as punishment for his pettiness. Being proven wrong did not suit the golden man.
Mix(ed):
It was nearly a week later when Winnie found herself back at Alder Creek. The water level had dipped back to its usual shallows, which lazily drifted by. Winnie could see her face reflected as she stared down, features blurred in its [flowing surface]. The hem of her skirt had dipped into the water, which lapped at Winnie’s bare feet. Her shoes were somewhere behind her, abandoned, a sign of her troubled mind. For the most part, Winnie had abandoned the practice of walking about barefoot - how her mother would’ve shouted if she’d seen her. The thought of her mother brought a fresh wave of mixed humiliation and frustration as the events of the day replayed through her mind.
Spin:
A light flickered in the trees. When Winnie looked up, she stared at the sight. Taliesin was crouching on a branch, catlike, with his hands holding the branch between his feet. Somehow, he did not sway but remained perfectly still, patiently watching Winnie spin in circles to look for him, all with an amused half-smile.
Color(s):
The opening of the cavern shifted through several colors, like an ever-changing kaleidoscope of light through a prism.
Need:
She offered Enid no response, so after a stretch of silence, the statuesque woman continued. “This is out of some attachment to the Dusk fellow, then.” Winnie bristled at her tone. “Of course it’s not. I merely need him to ensure that my brother and I are able to depart the Fae safely.”
Not found:
King (Apparently my writing does not support monarchies lol)
Chip
Everyday
This was excessively long, so I’m going to leave it an open tag. The words for anyone who feels like it are king, chip, and everyday because I’m sure somebody out there has them, even if I don’t. 
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sabineelectricheart · 3 years
Text
Licking His Lips
Summary: Dimitri is jealous when he sees his professor wearing her old mercenary clothes. This will not stand.
Rating: MA - Content is only suitable for mature adults. May contain explicit language and adult themes.
Words: 2100
Notes: Smut galore. I thought I’d make Dimitri more of a sexist pig, because, y’know, medieval, but it turned out he was pretty tame. Oh, well, next time I’ll get ’em.
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“Oh, professor!” Mecedes gushes as soon as they see their instructor coming over from the Archbishop’s room to the Entrance Hall. “Don’t you look lovely this morning?”
Dimitri frowns, keeping his eyes focused on the trunks in front of him. He might appreciate Mercedes and Annette as individuals, but whenever they come together, it was an ordeal. He hates the noise of their gossips and snickered laughter, he detests that sense of a hub of whispers and wasted time when there are things to do and more important subjects to address.
Byleth thanks the church ward politely, but that does not satisfy her pink-haired friend.
“Doesn’t the professor look lovely, Your Highness?” She snickers, and the blond noble thinks this whole affair had been carefully planned by their meddlesome scheming.
Not that he actually needed their help to express his appreciation towards their blue-haired professor.
He sighs. As much as he would like to, he cannot ignore the incessant prattle, so he sweeps his eyes from the shiny tops of Byleth’s riding boots, across her legs covered in black lace and armoured chest, to protect against wandering arrows, to her beautiful face, looking away from his scrutiny.
It had been over six Moons since Dimitri saw the comely woman in such a scandalous garb. He knew those were her travelling clothes, which she used often while a mercenary, but ever since she arrived in Garreg Mach, Seteth had provided her with an array of black and grey dresses to be worn in class, and while out on the field, she usually wore the nunnery habit of the monastery, proper of the magical classes she elected to use, to better assist their learning efforts.
Alas, in a couple of bells, they would depart to Gronder Field, for the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion. She had declined travelling with the Archbishop and Seteth, so she would be allowed a more comfortable wear, and, despite him also insisting that she travel with him on the Royal Carriage, she had pointed out that Dedue was much too heavy to ride the same horse all the way to the Bergliez hunting lodge, and it would be uncomfortable for the three of them to sit eight hours in such close proximity.
Byleth would ride with Rodrigue and the rest of the Royal Bodyguards in the front, which motivated her to dust her old outfit, but it also meant that Dimitri would have to watch that damn skirt to roll up, her breasts to move in the rhythm of the horse’s gallop, her navel exposed to the sun, and he would not be able neither to touch or even speak with her. It would be torture.
He wonders if he would be able to convincedly persuade Rodrigue to force his professor into ceremonial garb. At least they had long breeches.
“If that skirt were any higher, we would all be able see what you had for breakfast.” Dimitri snaps, ignoring the gasps around him as he turns on his heel.
He is not sure why he is in such a bad mood, or rather a worse mood than usual, as mornings were always difficult to him. His headache was under control, and he did catch some sleep the night before. Yet, the prince has moved from gruff to grumpy in a matter of seconds, and he finds his thoughts returning to the vision of the professor more than once as he finishes packing and giving orders to the guards.
It is not that he minds the skirt that sits a palm above her knee. In fact, he loves how easily it scrunches up to her waist as he leans her over his large desk, taking her from behind at every available opportunity, but he does mind that other people notice.
They are not official. They cannot be. He is a noble, a prince at that, and could not afford to court a mercenary in any official capacity, not to mention that her position in Garreg Mach was undoubtedly fraught, and a scandal would cement the idea that she had slept her way into her job, even though the Church would never allow such a thing.
His funk continues throughout the morning, and he is still out of sorts when he meets Sylvain and Felix at the training grounds, probably there to sneak a little bit of practice before the big day tomorrow.
Dimitri channels his rage into his routine, digging deeper than he has in a while.
“It would be best if you slow down, Your Highness. You do not want to hurt something today of all days!” Sylvain furrows his brow as he spots Dimitri’s lifts.
“I’m fine.” Dimitri grunts through gritted teeth.
He has starting to feel more than a little regret that he came here to try to decompress, since both of his equally-noble classmates have shown more than passing interest in Byleth over the last year.
Dimitri is admittedly less worried about Felix than he used to be, since his former friend does not seem that invested in anything other than becoming stronger and beating his sovereign into line, but something tells him Sylvain Gautier is still one to watch.
“Why are you so perky?” The prince asks the famed philanderer as they put away the training lances.
Sylvain shrugs, his grin stretching from one ear to another. “I started the day with my favourite thing.”
He wiggles his eyebrows and runs a tongue across his top lip, signalling he had enjoyed some sort of sexual activity in his room before dawn.
Felix frowns. “You are absolutely disgusting, Sylvain. Don’t you have anything better to do in the morning?”
Dimitri rolls his eyes and says a curt goodbye, but as the day stretches on infinitely, he wonders just who Sylvain is spending his mornings with.
Surely not Byleth? They’re together, right? Just because they cannot be public, it does not mean that she had the right to cuckhold him with the entire Faerghus nobility. He had maintaining unwavering fidelity; she could surely extend the same curtesy.
What does Sylvain even have that he does not? Certainly not beauty, wealth, a title or a Crest, as the prince has no shortage of any.
By the time of their departure towards the Imperial border, he is already at his wits’ end, particularly because he cannot find his professor anywhere. He spends the whole eight hours in the carriage grumbling and glaring at wheat fields and collapses into a restless sleep at his luxurious private room at the Lodge as soon as they arrive.
Though, sleep might be a misleading word. More accurately, he thrashes in the frilly bedsheets in Imperial fashion while being haunted by nightmares of Sylvain and Byleth doing the same thing just down the hall.
By the morning, before breakfast, he has a plan of action, and he pounces as soon as Byleth walks into his chambers.
“What the…” Her words are cut off as he presses his lips to hers, sandwiching her body between the door and his own as he locks the lock shut.
Her eyes widen in momentary surprise and then flutter closed as his lips trail down her neck and a hand works its way up her skirt.
“You are gorgeous.” Dimitri murmurs as he tastes the smooth skin above her collarbone.
“I thought you did not like this skirt, Dimitri.” Byleth teases.
His ice-blue eyes harden as he pulls back to meet her gaze.
“I like it just fine on my floor.” He tugs at the leather straps that held the fabric on her waist and it smoothly slides down her thighs. “Less so in the hallways, where anyone can see it.”
“So, this is what the whole commotion was about?” She folds her arms across her waist. “You are jealous?”
“Hardly.” He loosens his uniform as he pops the buttons of her blouse. “I just value professionalism.”
Byleth snorts derisively.
“Clearly you do, Your Highness.” She gestures to herself as she shrugs out of her top and Dimitri gulps as he takes in the black lace corset, matching panties and thigh-high stockings.
He pulls their bodies together, flushing again as he divests her of her remaining clothing.
“This is our place.” He tells her as she fumbles with the buckle of his riding trousers. It would be a chore to dress themselves back again, but neither cared for that now. “Forget about everything while we are here.”
She bends as if to fall to her knees, but he stops her. Now that she is nude, he has other plans for her.
He lifts her in his arms, carrying her to the seat by the tiny working desk and kneeling at her feet. Her eyes widen as he leans in and swipes his tongue across the tender folds of flesh between her thighs.
“Dimitri…” The teacher moans, gripping at his blond, full hair.
It is an unusual flavour. Something spiced and musky, very unlike what he would expect of a woman that spent most of her youth travelling through Adrestia. Yet, despite enjoying the taste, the reaction she has to the soft licks makes him double down on the task.
His is the only name he wants her to call when she is like this.
The prince moves her legs apart in a wider angle, one that allows his forehead to touch her lower abdomen and her knees to rest against his broad shoulder, and she groans and lolls her head back as he curves his tongue and pushes it as far as he can inside of her entrance.
“Holy Star!” Byleth shrieks as he adds one finger and then another to his efforts.
The professor begins to pant and he has to pull back then, to see her quaking at his ministrations. She is a thing of beauty: blue hair splayed around her face and sunlight filtered by the red satin curtains streaming across her nakedness. Her breasts rising and falling with every breath, areolas large and dark.
A bead of sweat rolls down her neck and past the valley, across the plains of her toned midsection and further still to where his digits are pistoning her in and out.
“Please, do not stop!” She begs, and he obliges, returning his mouth to her centre.
It is a strange thing, to have so much power while bowing servantly at someone’s feet. Maybe this is why Sylvain and his delusions of power and status like it so much.
When Byleth explodes, Dimitri is almost mad with desire, balls heavy and muscles taut. He pulls her from the seat to her hands and knees on the ground and enters her from behind with a single, forceful lunge.
“Not too loud.” He cautions into her ear, although a part of him hopes a certain member of the Blue Lions overhears them somehow.
“Say that you are mine.” The prince demands, quickening his thrusts.
“All yours.” She admits it in a whimper that only seasons his arousal.
He pushes her legs together, his knees outside of each of hers so that she is even tighter around him and he ruts once, twice, three more times before spilling himself completely inside of her, in a most unbecoming scene for someone of his high station.
They lie there together, strewn over the cold stone floor, catching their breath, and for a moment he wishes he was just a nameless mercenary on Jeralt’s merry band, so that he could marry her and make her scream like that night and day.
Byleth turns around in his arms and runs a hand across his unmarred cheek.
“A penny for your thoughts?” She whispers softly.
Dimitri swallows heavily. He knows he cannot tell her the ridiculous notion he was entertaining, so he settles for something else that is true, albeit not front of mind.
“I am famished.” He announces as he hefts himself up.
“Seems like you had a pretty healthy breakfast to me.” The woman quips, humoured by their situation.
He laughs, in spite of himself.
“A hearty one.” The prince concurs. “Yet, I found myself more famished than I was before.”
They take their time dressing, kissing tenderly as each garment is thrown and straightened.
They part ways as they exit the room, him heading for the cafeteria and her for the dormitory.
“Victory dinner later?” She asks him hopefully as she retreats.
He smiles. “Certainly.”
Dimitri watches as she walks away, so wrapped up in the sight of her elegant form that he does not realise he is licking his lips.
*_*_*_*_*
Fire Emblem Masterlist
Three Houses Masterlist
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rhydianww · 4 years
Text
Kicking and Screaming
“You don’t need the trouble, Rhydian. Just leave her alone.” This was the sage advice from the Slytherin’s just barely older sister. Owena sat next to her brother in the back seat of their mother’s car, a pile of snacks and a forgotten game of Uno laid between them. They were on their way to Kings Cross station, ready to start their fourth year of Hogwarts. 
But Rhydian was paying no head to his sister’s warning, he could hardly hear her over the music reverberating between his ear drumbs and the soft black cover over his headphones. His violet eyes were cast outward to the blurring scenery as the vehicle moved down the winding highway away from the northern welsh coast and the place they called home. Had his father been around, the family would have apparated somewhere with a floo that connected to King’s Cross, but Louis had been beckoned for work in the dead of night. His father had woken him up in to hug him goodbye and wish him well in school, and Rhydian had been too tired to be rude and deny his father the simple affection.
He felt bad for him, Rhydian, even if he’d never admit it to the older wizard’s face. But Louis hated his job and it was clear for anyone to see. He was always tired and grumpy when he came home from a mission, and he often didn’t speak to his family members until after Caerwyn would take her husbands hand and lead him to the bedroom, the door would lock behind them and they’d be gone to the world for a few hours. Rhydian knew some of what his father experienced must be horrific. Louis never spoke about work but Uncle Cleary, Louis’ partner and Rhydian’s Godfather, was much more forthcoming with information now that Rhydian was older. Knowing the bits and peices of what his father had done at work, and what had been done to him made  Rhydian just as sympathetic to his father as it did angry.
On one hand Rhydian understood his father put his life on the line and was witness to many dark and terrifying things for the sake of his family. Caerwyn and Louis had ended up pregnant and unwed at nineteen freshly graduated. His father had done what he needed to and found a job with security. On the other hand Rhydian felt that Louis’ experiences should have made him more sympathetic to his son’s illness. Louis never slept well and could be found nearly at all hours with a cup of black hot coffee in his hand. Rhydian knew it was because of work just like Rhydian had trouble sleeping because spirits. Shouldn’t that mean Louis could understand why Rhydian didn’t going new places? Why he needed his music? Why he couldn’t pay attention all the time? These were all coping skills Rhydian had unconsciously picked up from his parents after all.
But Louis didn’t seem to understand his son, and Rhydian felt he never would.
As if sensing the way her son’s thoughts were heading, Caerwyn spoke up. Owena nudged her brother, and two matching sets of violet eyes met in the rear view mirror.
“It’s Poppy’s first fucking year, you’ll keep an eye on her, won’t you?” Caerwyn asked. She was always interrupting Rhydian and Louis when they started to go at each other, always trying the ease the waves between them. Could she feel the impatience Rhydian had begun to stew in the fleeting thought about his father’s absence?
“She’s going to look simply adorable in her robes, oh I can’t wait to see her, I bet she’s going to be in Hufflepuff, just like Aunty Lils.” Owena cheered, always bright and cheerful. She was like the sun, Owena, and just like the gaseous celestial body, the world seemed to revolve around her. Everyone liked Owena, everyone wanted to be her mate. Rhydian was envious of such magnetism but also thankful. He had gone his whole life being left alone he shouldn’t think he’d take to being popular all that well now.
“Mmm.” Was Rhydian’s gruff response, his eyes falling away from his mother’s and back to the landscape. Poppy was one of Rhydian’s dozens upon dozens of cousins, a daughter of his father’s cousin Lily and her husband Lorcan. The Potter/Weasley family was large, too large for Rhydian to feel all that comfortable around every one of his cousins the way his father was, but he got on well enough with Aunty Lils’ girls. Briar and Thistle, the eldest of his aunt’s surmounting hoard, were close enough in age to Rhydian that they had been able to play as children. There were also no spirits in the valley Aunty Lils and Uncle Lori had made their home which meant Rhydian was willing to spend time there on occasion.
But home was one thing, school was another. As sort of a social pariah, Rhydian was generally avoided at school, even by his cousins. Rhydian didn’t care, he wasn’t particularly close to any of the one’s in his year anyway. Owena was really the only one he hung around with regularly at school, usually tagging along to whatever she was doing with her mates at her insistence. Most of the cousins he saw consistently were older anyway, after Addie had been born it was like a baby bomb had gone off. Sophia, Tante Vic’s daughter had been born, then James’ oldest, Junior, and then a whole ton more. If he had to pick favorites Rhydian would have to say it was Viktor, Tante Doma’s son, but he lived in Eastern europe with the Dragons so it was rarely Rhydian got to see him, they certainly didn’t go to school together.
Poppy was alright, but young and a girl. Shy but sweet. She’d make friends fast enough. Rhydian agreed with Owena’s assessment, Hufflepuff was likely.
“And leave fucking Maggie alone.” Owena quipped. Rhydian rolled his eyes as he replaced his headphones, not looking up to meet the violet eyes staring at him once more in the mirror. It was no secret what had happened over the summer at Addie’s going away party. Louis had blamed Rhydian but he hadn’t cared. There had been no use in arguing. But just because he had accepted his father’s lame punishment of having to sit at a table with him -probably what he would have been stuck doing anyway- that didn’t mean the Slytherin didn’t blame Maggie Stonefyre for him getting in trouble to begin with.
Rhydian wasn’t the forgiving type, and Owena was probably sensing her brother was scheming, but  Merlin did she have no idea what was in store for the weirdo snake bitch was in for. Maggie was a nice girl, according to Owena, ‘a Hufflepuff’ Owena had stated, dragging the house name out, her eyes reflecting exasperation. She believed no Hufflepuff was rotten to their core. And Rhydian supposed Maggie wasn’t rotten to her core, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t deserving of justice.
He started picking on Maggie the first day of classes. He found them sharing a bench in Potions oddly enough, other students were weary of the snake that curled itself around her body. Rhydian had learned the snake was passive enough though and so he took the opportunity and grabbed the seat next to her. They hadn’t spoken, but she had gone to the loo which allowed Rhydian ample time to poor a sickly smelling sap into her book bag. He had been carrying it around of hopes  of seeing her.
He expected to give her a hard time for a week or so, then move on. Just enough to upset the girl. Rhydian however did not expect retaliation. Perhaps he should have, looking back on the event over the summer, but he had assumed the gun had been Hads’ idea, she could be a wicked little thing Rhydian had observed. But you know what they say about hindsight; it’s always twenty-twenty. Maggie came back at Rhydian was a vengeance, pouring the same sap in his trunk and on his bed, he had no idea how she got in his dorm. From their things escalated to name calling, to school work sabotaging, and it was now to the point they were hexing each other in the corridors much the frustration of their Professors. They could hardly stand each other, Maggie and Rhydian to the point their anger was on sight. Peers knew to stay out of their way if they noticed the pair glaring at each other and drawing their wands. 
It landed them in detention more than once, but the Professors were loosing their patience. It wasn’t very fair either that they favored Maggie over Rhydian, especially the Arithmancy Professor who was particularly defensive of the annoying witch. But Rhydian couldn’t let it go even though he had received angry letters and phone calls from his parents by now about how often he was getting in trouble. Even Addie had written inquiring what it was that was upsetting her brother so much. He didn’t write back. Rhydian had always been a difficult and was in and out of trouble most of his school career but no one thought this fixation he had on ruining Maggie Stonefyre’s day was healthy. 
Eventually the Professors decided if the two couldn’t resolve their differences on their own, they would force them to do so. And so as a pair, the two were sent into the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid to tend to the Unicorns. Rhydian doubted it would go well, the whole thing was ludicrous. How was he, a boy, supposed to even see the unicorns?! How had Hagrid been feeding them to begin with?! It didn’t make any sense. 
“Yer Grandfather Ron-”
“Bill. My grandfather is Bill. Ron’s my great uncle.” Rhydian had reminded the half giant gently. He was getting very old, Hagrid, forgetful. He had enough wit however to recognize a Weasley when he saw one. His father having been close with Harry and Ron’s respective children, Auntie Rose and Uncle Shithead, had known the half giant well in their time at Hogwarts. And he was kind, Rhydian noted, in a way that was quite rare.
The two spoke about family and Great Uncle Harry’s heroism until they were joined under the stars at the edge on the Forrest by Maggie. Hagrid gave a small lantern to each of them a bid them to follow after him into the woods. 
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faerieghos-t · 3 years
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Blood Tastes Like Water
The summer before your sixth year at Hogwarts had been doused in grief. Cold and miserable and utterly unshakable, you wonder whether you will ever find salvation. Draco Malfoy is caught in his own silent battle of wills. He doesn't know if he is strong enough. A diary, a secret chamber, and a mysterious dark-haired boy will bring into question all you thought you knew about the world. A tale of trust and betrayal; hurting and healing. "No matter how much we want it....some stories just don't have a happy ending."
*****
The train ride back to Hogwarts was, like the summer before it, tainted with an infrangible sadness. Since Sirius’ death nothing had quite felt real. It was as though you were a spectator - your head two feet away from your body, watching people and things and days pass you by with no end in sight. The holiday had been mostly spent in your bedroom, each day somewhere between wailing for the mercy of some- any -God, and a hollowness that you couldn’t shake away. Your exceptional OWLs results qualified you for some advanced classes this year, and the relief you felt when you had opened the letter confirming this stemmed undoubtedly from the quiet gratitude that maybe you would be busy enough to forget. Forget. That word seemed almost impossible. Dangling just out of your reach, begging you to overstretch for it and topple into oblivion. How could you possibly forget? Forget the screams and the flashes and the blistering white hot agony that choked you when Sirius fell through the veil. Tears pricked your eyes and shook you back to reality. You were alone in the carriage save for two first years comparing the sweets they had bought earlier in the journey. Outside the window, the sky was finally beginning to darken from the warm September glow into a wan purple: the hue beneath a sleepless eye - often, lately, your own. The colour washed the barely-visible Hogwarts in a sickly light, as though it, too, felt the hum of evil in the air.
The Great Hall was bright and warm and abuzz with a hundred different conversations all at once. To your left, Ron was speaking incoherently through a mouthful of jelly, ignorant of Hermione’s disdain that he was - “eating when your best friend is missing!” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at this; you loved Hermione, you did, but there were moments she could be a little overbearing. Besides, her concern was unnecessary, because Harry came stumbling through the large oak doors several seconds later. He was covered in blood. Your subconscious drifted back to that day - those events now flicking through your mind like a photo album. “What happened to you?” Someone further down the table asked him; he shrugged it off. Conversation resumed, and continued in a sluggish, reluctant recount of summer exploits until Dumbledore cleared his throat and the room fell silent.
There was some calm, quiet energy about Dumbledore - one you could never totally put your finger on - that seemed all-knowing yet totally intrigued. Nobody doubted his abilities as a headmaster (at least, nobody with whom you chose to associate), but his ability to hold and maintain the full attention of every person in a room was a singular marvel. The usual formalities of his yearly speech barely registered in your mind, and you weren’t fully paying attention, picking at your finger nails until his utterance that “Professor Snape will be filling the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.” It had been something of a running joke among your peers that Defence Against the Dark Arts was a post whose inhabitants rarely stayed for long. In your fourth year, Seamus Finnegan had joked that “it’s the most dangerous job in the whole wizarding world.” At the mention of their Head of House, you heard some rowdy cheers erupt from the Slytherin table. Looking over, however, your eye caught a head of icy blond hair, and skin as pale to match. If anyone else’s summer had proven excruciating, it was Malfoy’s. Several rumours had already been circulating that his father was placed in Azkaban for his involvement with the Dark Lord, and it was Harry who, in a letter he sent to you over the holiday, confirmed it to be true. Something had changed about Draco over the summer - his typical scowl of arrogant contempt had been replaced with something sadder. Something hollower. The loneliness in those pale blue eyes could not be disguised by his erect carriage and feigned nonchalance. You indulged, briefly, guiltily, in the romantic notion that maybe you were two forlorn souls amongst a sea of blissful idiots. It was when his eyes locked on you, mouth already twisted back into that disdainful snarl, that you remembered. Draco Malfoy did not care about you, or your sadness, or your foolish romantic indulgences. Draco Malfoy did not play nice.
You were ushered back to the Gryffindor common room, the hallway a cacophony of first years’ exclamations at the stairs - even you had to admit, there was some residual excitement as the heavy stone rumbled beneath your feet - and merry exultations from the paintings, welcoming every student back for another year at Hogwarts. Outside the Gryffindor common room - as was annual tradition - the students huddled around the entryway to hear the fat lady proclaim the password, to be used right until school ended in July. “Welcome back, my lovelies!” She sang. “Keep your ears peeled children; I will say the password once and only once.” A hush fell. One year, Fred and George managed to hex the doorway so that, while the password was Grindylow, the painting would only swing open at the merry exclamation of “I’m in love with Professor Snape.” It was a grand success for about a week before someone - their brother, Percy, they had speculated - reported them to McGonagall. Gryffindor did not win the house cup that year. “Anagnorisis!” Pulled you from your reverie. It was a word you were unfamiliar with. Hermione, however, wasn’t, and as you filed into the common room, she began explaining its literary significance to any unfortunate souls who happened to be in her vicinity.
You spent very little time in the common room that evening, choosing instead to unpack all your things and place them meticulously neatly in your drawers. Having already been given your timetable - free periods reduced from nine to a pitiful two thanks to the advanced potions and arithmancy classes bulking up your busy schedule - you plucked tomorrow’s books from your suitcase, throwing the rest into the bottom drawer, beneath your clothes. Afterwards, there was nothing much to do but lay on your bed for an hour or so before the others began trickling in. The events of the evening, arriving back at Hogwarts had distracted your heavy head for a while. Now, though, the dull ache of sorrow set its way back in. Maybe it was selfish of you, to be grieving so bitterly over Sirius - Harry’s godfather, and a man you hardly knew before last year - but you couldn’t help yourself. In a way, the secret pain almost felt thrilling, as though in some hedonistic way you finally had a reason to look at the world through somber, sober eyes. Your wandering mind found its way back to Draco, sitting alone - though surrounded by his peers - in the Great Hall. It had been strange, catching him in a moment of doubt - so much so that you wondered whether you really even had. Either way, it was a reminder that - no matter how hard the Ministry tried to hide it, no matter how innocent and oblivious the new students, no matter how desperately you wanted it to go away - something dark was on the horizon, and you could not shake it away.
*****
hi
I hope you enjoyed my first foray into fanfiction (entirely inspired by the fact HP has been dominating my tiktok for you page) Ive got a brief outline for this story, but updates may be few & far between any/all feedback is welcome :)
PS here are thinks to this story on my wattpad:
https://www.wattpad.com/959623615-blood-tastes-like-water-chapter-one
and my ao3:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700265/chapters/65129323
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‘Kiss from a Rose’
"Come on, Rubles! It'll be super fun!" Yang encouraged, trying relentlessly to get Ruby to come to the upcoming sleepover. Ruby rolled her silver eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time. She'd rolled her eyes so much they were starting to hurt.
"Yeah, for you! They're all your friends, after all! I'm not gonna know anyone at the party!" Ruby clapped back. She wasn't much for large parties or gatherings.
"Neither will I. A bunch of them will be Blake's friends, and I've hardly met any of them. But really, Ruby, you should make the scene. There will be tons of cute girls in their pajamas for you to look at. Huh? HUH?" Ruby shook her head at Yang. "Come on! You don't want to visit Blake, even? She'll be disappointed if you aren't there."
It was tough to argue with that. Blake was one of Ruby's favorite people since she and Yang had gotten together, and she made Ruby's sister remarkably happier. Could Ruby really stand to disappoint her favorite faunus?
"Fine... but only because Blake invited me herself. I'm not here to pick up girls. I'm not even sure if I like girls."
"Well, I know you don't like boys. What are you into, then?"
"Video games, weapons, Gurren Lagann, y'know. Cool junk." Ruby beamed as she mentioned her favorite anime. Yang grinned at her kid sister.
"Maybe you'll meet up with someone who likes giant robots and weapons and stuff as much as you do, sis. Blake knows some interesting people." Yang encouraged again. Ruby shrugged as she leaned into her closet to grab some pajamas. She settled for her usual rose-print pants and a top with a Beowolf printed on it. "You'll nab yourself a sweetheart for sure in those jam-jams!"
"Shut up." Ruby blushed brightly, her face turning ten shades of red. "I just want to visit Blake. I'm sure she misses her favorite gemstone." Ruby smirked at her own comment.
\/\/\/\/\/
Ruby and Yang entered Blake's pajama party in their sleepiest clothes. Yang wore an orange tank top with a yellow flame print and some small black shorts. Blake greeted them at the door, looking stunning in a black yukata shirt and a matching skirt. Her purple undershirt had a Gengar on it, one of her favorite Pokemon.
"Ooh, you brought the kid!" Blake joked as she hugged her girlfriend. She gave Ruby a tight hug as well, grinning at her favorite gemstone. "Speaking of gemstones, my friend Emerald is here. She's adorable, so you should maybe chat her up," The catgirl told Ruby with a grin. Ruby rolled her eyes.
"Geez, you sound like Yang!" Ruby complained, but she smiled through it. She knew Blake meant well, just as Yang did. Ruby just didn't care about dating or anything of that sort. She never really noticed people that much, as she was always preoccupied with weapons or video games. She tried to talk to a girl or two and got along well enough.
Ilia, Blake's chameleon friend, chatted Ruby up for a moment before Yang spooked her as a joke and her entire body changed color. "Cripes! Blondie, I'm gonna wreck you!"
"Come on with it, Scale Face!" Yang yelled as she ran. Ilia gave chase, and then suddenly all of Ruby's progress was gone. The chameleon girl was definitely pretty, especially wearing that rainbow-colored pajama suit. She'd worn an undershirt that read 'No One Knows I'm A Chameleon' also.
Ruby caught up with Blake's friend Emerald, an absolute knockout with a sea green bob haircut. Her pajamas were a silk suit as red as her eyes. There wasn't much for Ruby to talk with her about, though, so Ruby waited for something else to catch the green-haired girl's attention and made a swift escape.
She was just about ready to find Yang and start complaining when she saw a goddess made flesh. Short and petit in a soft blue gown that fell to her knees, this beauty had long white hair tied back into an off-centered ponytail. Her bright blue eyes mesmerized Ruby. She suddenly had a mighty need to be in this girl's presence.
She sidled up to the white queen as subtly as possible... which is to say, as subtle as a brick through a window. The girl noticed her, pausing for a long moment to stare. Could she feel the same? Surely she hadn't been thoroughly hypnotized by Ruby... right?
"Excuse me... have you seen Blake? I need to let her know I'm here." The girl spoke. Ruby's soul left her body for a moment. She had the voice of an angel. Ruby almost forgot her own name for a moment.
"Sure, I can take you to Blake. She's probably near my sister..." Ruby replied once she remembered how to function. She took the girl by the hand, an involuntary action, but one she did not regret. Her left hand was soft and cool, and very comforting. Ruby nudged her way through the crowd of girls until she saw Yang.
"Hey, sis! OH!" Yang instantly assumed something. Ruby shook her head.
"A new arrival looking for Blake," Ruby replied, Blake turning her head at the sound of her name.
"Welcome to the party, Weiss. I see you're making friends fast." Blake told the white angel. Ruby's heart melted at the name. She swiped her hand away when she realized she was still holding Weiss's hand.
"You didn't have to stop..." Weiss told her. "What's your name?"
"I'm... gay." She hiccuped as she realized what she'd said. "I'm Ruby! Ruby Rose! Ruby is my name, not 'Gay', although that's a pretty cool name too, I suppose." Ruby stammered. Yang chortled at her sister, and Ruby rolled her eyes at Yang for delighting in her suffering. "My sister is dating Blake."
"Yeah, that blonde is all Blake ever talks about these days. If it weren't so cute it'd be disgusting." Blake laughed as Yang stuck out her tongue. "So, are you here with anyone, Ruby?"
"Not really. I sort of only came to see Blake... Are you meeting a girl here?"
The angel blushed at the question, as Ruby had blushed while asking it.
"Well, if I might be so bold, I think I just did," Weiss replied, her pupils slightly widening as she looked at Ruby more and more.
"Well, I bet she's pretty great." Ruby winked. The two girls clasped hands and found a quiet area to talk.
\/\/\/\/\/
The next morning, Ruby opened her eyes as she felt a slight pressure on her chest. She looked around for a moment and saw piles and piles of sleeping girls. Gods, how many girls did Blake know? Two redheads that were sleeping close by stood up and found their way to the nearest bathroom. One had a short orange bob while the other had flowing scarlet locks.
Ruby looked down at her chest to discover a white-haired girl was laying on top of her.
YIKES! Had she and Weiss gotten that close so quickly? Ruby could remember talking with her for hours, and even getting a small kiss. Wow, Ruby was smooth as all get out... or so she wished.
"Hey there, Flower Pot," Weiss told her, yawning and smiling at Ruby.
"Good morning, Snow Angel."
"I'm thinking of going to grab breakfast. There's a small diner across the street. Do you know if it's any good?"
"It's great! Blake's friend Neo works there. She must have had work this morning because she was here last night but I don't see her now." Ruby mused as she gazed out into the sea of sleeping girls. "Wow, Blake must make friends with every girl she meets."
"Yeah, people love her. She's the coolest. So... you wanna have breakfast with me?" Weiss asked, blushing all the while. Ruby nodded, and the two girls tiptoed their way through the mass of sleeping girls. Once outside they let their eyes adjust to the sun before crossing the street and entering the diner.
A girl with pink and brown hair addressed them with a wave. She came to the table and signed them a greeting.
"Good morning, Neo! Wasn't that party crazy fun?" Ruby asked. Neo signed rapidly. Weiss could hardly catch any of it, but Ruby seemed to keep up well enough.
"Uh, I don't think anybody paired off and did... the thing. I mean, I know Yang jumped on Blake the second they were alone together, but I'm not sure about anyone else."
Neo signed more and more, Ruby nodding and laughing. "Oh, Ilia and Emerald were here? Maybe they will be a thing now."
"So, are we going to order breakfast or just chat up this adorable server all morning?" Weiss asked. Neo looked at her sharply, signing the letters 'G' and 'F' at Ruby with a curious face. "Uh..."
"Um..." Ruby and Weiss thought for a long time. "Sure." They said simultaneously. "JINX!" Neo smiled at them. Weiss ordered a coffee while she perused the menu, and Ruby asked Neo for 'a coffee as black as her soul'. Neo brought her a glass of milk, much to Weiss's amusement.
\/\/\/\/\/
\/\/\/\/\/
\/\/\/\/\/
Day 10: Professor or Headmaster FORGET PROMPTS IT’S WHITE ROSE WEEK!
Nah, since I was behind and sorta did a two-in-one for ‘yesterday’ I figured I’d do one for WRW. 
Day 1: First Date / Coffee
Idk if I’ll go the rest of White Rose Week but I decided to do at least one.
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lunaraindrop · 4 years
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Quentin’s Mentor (part 4)
A lot of shit happened quickly to Quentin and his friends.
The Beast was gone.
Just like that.
One minute he was terrorizing people, the next? Eaten by Quentin’s pet plant.
All of that fear and angst an-and scary fucking build-up just…dissolved into nothing. 
Very anticlimactic. 
It left everyone standing dumbstruck, not sure what to do or how to react.
It was a little disconcerting.
Oh, and apparently The Beast, the guy that ripped out Dean Fogg’s eyes, was the psychotic voice in Penny’s head, and was trying to kill him at every turn? Yeah, that was MARTIN FUCKING CHATWIN! Martin Chatwin, one of his childhood heroes, was trying to kill him.
What the hell?!
In all honestly, he was not sure how to react to that. On the one hand, why the hell did Martin Chatwin want him dead? Him! HE wasn’t special by any means, so what gives?
On the other hand…holy-fucking-shit Martin Chatwin, THE Martin Chatwin made it his purpose to kill HIM! Quentin Coldwater! Martin Chatwin was *eaten* alive by HIS pet plant! (Which is ironically named after Martin’s sister. That would make for an interesting feminist philosophy paper.)
…was it weird that he felt a little…in awe about all of this? Maybe even a little special? Like…maybe he wasn’t such a screw up and he was a chosen nemesis to the big bad in a story? Because, well, he kind of was? Like, umm, nobody was exactly sure why Quentin was targeted by Martin fucking Chatwin, but he *was* a target. That’s why Jane (Chatwin, not his cat-like purple and blue Venus fly trap) kept telling him to step off the garden path.
Apparently the garden path took offense. 
It was l-like Treebeard and the Ents in Lord of the Rings! Nature fights back, mmm hmm…bitches.
He was just glad nature was on his side. He was on theirs too.
Case in point, this was why he was running through Queens in the middle of the night, heading for a portal in an alley that would take him to the Addams mansion. 
His arms were crossed across his chest, cradling what was hiding inside his maroon hoodie. Tucked up against his sternum was his poor baby plant, Jane. While she shrank back to her original size after eating The Beast, she turned a sickly green-gray and lost some of her vibrant leaves a few hours later. 
After the first few hours of being saved, he was worried that Jane would get a taste for human flesh. He loved her, but he was not about to go on a killing spree to keep her fed. Maybe. No, definitely not. Maybe rob a morgue…?Anyway, Morticia never warned him of anything like this. She just old him to make sure she was watered, fertilized, and had a steady diet of insects and small mammals.
Nothing was ever mentioned about her growing in size and eating a human whole.  
Those went out the window when she kept gagging (well, as much as a plant can sound like gagging), wilted, and changed into such dull colors.
He was concerned, yes, but he was a little to freaked out (and frankly embarrassed) to go to Morticia Addams for help. He had only had Jane for a couple of months, and now he allowed her to eat people and she was sick? He knew Mortica was…an odd lady, but as his mentor he wanted to impress her. She trusted him with this gift…and now he was letting her down.
He decided to ask for some help on campus. Surely someone would know how to help his magic plant.
That turned out to be a big mistake. Just like Alice, nobody could identify what species she was. 
Then Lipsom dropped the bomb: They wanted to study her. 
As in take her away, cut her open, and find out more about how Martin became The Beast.
Margo was angry and cussed Fogg out for going along with this plan.
Penny, who is usually a dick, actually looked really sad and left the room without comment. Kady followed, but not before giving Jane one mournful stare before sneering at the professors.
Alice…was actually on Lipsom’s side. She tried to sympathetically reasoned that this was a perfect chance to learn what had happened, how to avoid it happening again, and that Jane was really dangerous now.
It was Eliot though that was peculiar. Eliot, who probably loved Jane just as much as he did, was stone-faced the entire time. He didn’t stop or hold Margo back, but he also didn’t speak at all. He hardly moved except to pet at Jane’s drooping little head. He didn’t seem to fear that she could snap off his hand.
Neither did Quentin.
Quentin turned to the Dean. “You know what? No. Fuck you, and fuck that! S-she just saved all of our lives! A-and s-s-s-she’s sick because she did! You don’t touch her! 
Dean Fogg sighed and covered his face with his hand.
“I’m going to assume that that literal death trap came from Morticia Addams to annoy me into an early grave. Your precious ‘Jane’ is obviously poisoned by something to do with eating Martin Chatwin. We need to know what. Normally, a large type of Venus fly trap even remotely close to that size would take a couple of days to digest a small animal. Yours won’t live that long. I estimate that she has maybe ten hours to live. You have five to get me what is left of The Beast’s body, or we’re going in for it.”
They tried to call the mansion, but nobody answered. Luckily Fogg, showing he had some heart (even small) told him of a portal behind a diner that take him as far as the front gate. But he also warned Quentin.
“We don’t know how dangerous your plant is. Keep her out of sight, and away from the public’s eye. It’s not my fault if she eats you too.”
Quentin narrows his eyes and lifted his chin in defiance. “Jane would never hurt me, or anyone else really unless they are bad people. I’ll be fine.” With that he stuck her wilting, quivering body safely into his hoodie, close to his heart.
Just before leaving Brakebills wards, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Eliot. Still stone-faced, his eyes showed his distress. Intense hazel eyes locked onto his own as he stepped closer. So close their chests almost touched. Breaking eye contact for a few seconds, he leaned down and placed a lingering kiss over the maroon fabric, just grazing her head and landing softly on Q’s heart. He looked back up at Quentin again and tucked his hair back behind his ear.
“These Addames…do you really think they can help her?”
Quentin shrugged, unconsciously leaning closer to Eliot, being careful not to crush the plant. “I-I think, uh, I hope? She did come from a cutting from one of Morticia’s plants, so there’s a good chance she will know how to help Jane. I really hope she knows how to help Jane.” his voice broke at the end. Eliot carefully pulled him close in a warm, one armed hug.
“Okay. Then go take care of our girl, Q.”
Those words echoed through his brain as he made his way up the long drive.
In front of him stood a giant, Gothic house. Something that looked like it belonged in Jane Eyre or Brideshead, Revisited. As he went to look for some type of buzzer, the gate ominously opened…
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