#the library was the quietest it’s been in years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovebotmo · 4 months

Text

like the movies

chapter two - moly blossoms

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 2589

author's note: i want to thank each and every one of your for the likes and reblogs on my first chapter!!! big smooches to you lil cuties.

song inspiration: japanese denim by daniel caesar

Trailing behind Hermione, you eventually made it to the dungeons where your first Potions lesson of the year awaited. Walking across the threshold of the entrance, you made sure to keep the door open for two of your classmates walking a little ways behind you. The first of the two, Lorenzo Berkshire, flashed a bright smile at you in thanks. The two of you had been friendly over the years at Hogwarts, sharing a number of advanced classes. You had spent a few late nights at the library together cramming for finals, only to celebrate at The Three Broomsticks with a congratulatory butterbeer when you both received prefect scores. Enzo, the nickname he preferred to go by, was an absolute sweetheart and kind friend.

The second of the pair walked behind his more cheerful friend in stony silence. He muttered a barely discernible, “Grazie,” to you as he passed into the Potions classroom. You caught a whiff of his cologne, something that reminded you of crackling fires, balsam firs, and fresh snow.

His name was Theodore Nott.

In comparison to his friend, you didn’t have much to say to or about him. In fact, Nott didn’t have much to say, well, ever. Among the gaggle of Slytherins he and Enzo hung around, he was the quietest and the most brilliant—often giving Hermione a run for her money for the top spot, especially when it came to Potions. You knew he played on the Slytherin quidditch team, but you hadn’t the foggiest as to which position he occupied. But that was it. You didn’t really know him, only of him.

Realizing you had been standing and propping the door open long after the two boys had walked through, you moved to shut the hefty door. You turned only to see the small number of your classmates huddling around a piece of paper, a list of some kind. As you entered your seventh year, your Potions classes had steadily thinned out as the requirements became increasingly more stringent. Even through Professor Slughorn was more than happy to accept students who received Es on their N.E.W.T.s, Snape’s years of teaching had put many students off the subject. Frankly, you couldn’t blame them.

In your third year, while brewing doxycide, you had made an error in adding wolfsbane essence instead of the required cowbane essence. The contents of your cauldron proceeded to explode on you. The potion was particularly foul-smelling and disturbingly thick; it had also ended up in your eyes. Rather than sending you immediately to the infirmary, Snape had made you clean it up—bloody blind, you might add—before you were on your way to Madam Pomfrey. You had lost ten house points. Safe to say, you loathed the man. You had only agreed to Hermione’s pestering to join her in the advanced courses of Potions because Slughorn had taken the post…and the promise that she would help you should you need it.

Shirking the memory, you moved to Hermione’s side in hopes of seeing what she and the rest of the class were peering at. The parchment in front of you listed out eight pairs of two students—assigned Potions partners for the year.

You quickly pulled Hermione back from the fray by her arm. “You promised you would help me if I took this class with you! Now you can’t even be my Potions partner!”

Hermione batted your arm away. “Oh, please Y/n! No need to be so dramatic all the time. I can still help even if I’m not your partner. Besides you won’t even need it.”

You squinted your eyes at her, “And why is that? Because I’m so bloody brilliant? I’m out of practice and you know that!”

Your reply was met with rolling eyes. “For the love of Godric, Y/n, you’ll be fine. You and I both know you can handle this class.” She paused. “But that’s not what I meant. Didn’t you see who your partner is?”

“Um…no.” In the fuss of realizing you wouldn’t be with Hermione you had failed to check just who your partner would be. “I was a little distracted by the fact that I’ve practically been abandoned—betrayed even—”

Hermione flicked you on the forehead. “Enough with the melodrama. Nott’s your partner. It’ll be grand. He’s… brilliant in Potions.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at her hesitation. If there was one thing Hermione Granger did not enjoy, it was academic competition, something that Nott’s proficiency in Potions promised. “Killed you to say that didn’t it? How does it feel to be one of us mere mortals of average intelligence, ‘Mione—"

Hermione let out a huff before pinching you lightly on the arm. “Oh, shove off. Go to your station, your partner is impatiently waiting. He’s been staring at you for the past two minutes.”

That got you to quickly spin around to meet Nott’s blue-green eyes looking fixedly into your own.

Oops.

You quickly moved away from Hermione and shuffled over to where Theodore stood. Turning to your partner, you tried to make some small talk while waiting for Slughorn to begin class, “I’m guessing you wish you had been paired with Enzo, right?”

Theodore stared at you. He blinked once. Then again. Before replying, “…Right.”

Well, he certainly isn’t one for pleasant conversation. Godric bless the soul that gets stuck talking to him at a cocktail party, you thought to yourself.

“’Spose it won’t be too bad though, yeah? Everyone knows you’ve gotten the best scores in Potions each year—we’ll be alright.” Your attempt at conversation was once more met Theodore’s stoic façade, your efforts to converse metaphorically falling into the awkward silence between you.

Theodore just repeated his monosyllabic reply. “Right.”

Smiling self-consciously, you placed your books on top of your station as you sat down, just as Slughorn finally made an appearance.

Thank Godric for the silly old man.

“Welcome to the second sequence of Advanced Potions! In order to determine if you’ve all properly reviewed your Advanced Potion Making texts over your summer holidays, I’ve crafted a little exercise with the help of Professor Sprout.” Pausing his speech, Slughorn waved his wand, drifting eight blooms of moly flowers to each station. You let out a quiet gasp.

Ever since your third year, moly flowers had been your favorite. First encountering them in Potions while brewing wiggenweld potion, you had become enamored with the gentle and elegant white blooms and its distinctive black stems and leaves that denoted moly flowers. It didn’t escape your notice either that they were able to counteract a number of enchantments, but that fact didn’t measure up to the quiet beauty of the blossoms you had grown to admire. When you wound up in the infirmary after your adolescent explosion of doxycide, Hermione had brought a single stem of a moly flower to your bedside—a feat not easily done. It had involved begging Professor Sprout for some of the moly she grew in the greenhouse. Despite Professor Spout’s reluctance to part with the blooms, due to the flower’s value, both monetarily and magically, Hermione had successfully commandeered one. Hermione was, for a lack of a better term, ‘that witch.’ And you loved her for it. Hermione’s efforts and that sweet memory had solidified the ardent admiration you had for molies from that moment onward.

One of the blooms floated towards you and gently, you grasped the onyx stem. Lightly touching one of the four pearlescent petals, you smiled at the memory you forever associated them with before someone brought you out of your haze.

“Y/n.” You turned your gaze to your left where Theodore was watching you expectantly.

Shaking your head, you brought yourself back to the present. “Sorry, what was that?”

Your obvious confusion at what was going on seemed to bring the smallest of smirks to Theodore’s lips.

So, he can smile…Interesting.

“We’re meant to identify the thirteen potions moly blooms are used in along with its medicinal capabilities. Think you can handle the task, L/n?” Besides the fact that you were in awe that Theodore could string that many words together all at once, you were stunned at the challenge he seemed to set forth. His tone seemed to question whether you could do anything besides dumbly stare at a flower bloom, completely unaware as to what Slughorn tasked you to do.

The man probably thinks I’m going to slack off since he’s so proficient in Potions. Even if I am not as naturally talented as him at the subject, I am still a good student—with principles, nonetheless! The gall of the man!

You scoffed, placing the flower on the table before turning fully towards the Slytherin. “Please, Nott. Have a little faith. Contrary to your belief, I do know what I’m doing…at least most of the time.”

Theodore picked up the moly bloom from where you had placed down on the table. He gently twirled it in his large hands, which easily dwarfed the small blossom. “Guess we’ll just have to see then, won’t we?” Those stormy eyes returned to your own. It was the first time you had seen them without a veil of indifference.

“Just you wait, Nott. I’m going to be the best Potions partner you’ve ever had.” Theodore raised his eyebrows at your bold conjecture. “Now, hand me a quill and a piece of parchment.”

Later that day, you trudged up to your room with Hermione following behind you. As you were both Muggleborns, you and Hermione had bonded over Muggle fiction over the years; it had brought you closer among the sea of Purebloods and Halfbloods who were more than content to disdain at your blood staus. Over the last summer, you had both agreed to select a book for the other to read. Hermione had already given you her copy of Little Women, so you were eager to give her your battered edition of Wuthering Heights. Chatting about your respective choices of literature, you unlocked the door, eager to flop onto your bed. However, as you neared your bedframe, rest seemed to be the last thing on your mind.

Hermione’s nose was still buried in her gifted copy of Little Women. “I’ve put a couple markers in places I want you to pay attention to. There’s this once instance with Amy, where Laurie just—oof!” Having not noticed your silence and lack of movement, Hermione bumped right into your back. “Sorry, I didn’t realize—wait…what’s that there?”

Hermione’s attention now turned towards the thing resting upon one of your pillows. Her thick brows furrowed as you cocked your head in confusion. The thing was a small bouquet of moly flowers in full bloom. They were carefully bound together by a thin white silk ribbon, perfectly matching the delicate petals. In the afternoon light coming through the windows, the flowers seemed to glisten. The flowers were gorgeous…but why were they here?

You turned to Hermione. “You mean, you didn’t put them there?”

Your friend quickly shook her head ‘no.’ “How could I? I’ve been with you all day, remember?”

You nodded mutely. Hermione was right, there would have been no opportunity for her to put them on your bed, let alone procure them from Professor Sprout. Considering her account of trying to obtain the precious blossoms in your third year, you doubted Hermione would have gone through the trouble without good reason.

You mentally scratched your head. “I suppose you didn’t do it, ‘Mione, but who else?” You gingerly picked up the bouquet, thoughtfully considering the angelic blooms. You gently rubbed the silk ribbon between your forefinger and thumb. “I reckon you’re the only one who knows how much I like them. Did anyone ask you about what flowers I like recently?”

Hermione shook her head. You trusted that Hermione wouldn’t lie, not about something like this. For two of the brightest students at Hogwarts, the pair of you were stumped.

“Maybe it’s someone from our Potions class—did you mention that you liked them to anyone? To Nott maybe?” At her last question, you couldn’t help the chuckle that left your lips. You shook your head.

“Please, Nott spoke all of three sentences to me today and it was the longest conversation I’ve ever had with the guy. Besides, I didn’t mention anything to him.” You handed the flowers to Hermione as you sat down on your bed, hands behind you as you leaned back. Just as you were about to shut your eyes, trying to wrack your mind for who could have possibly sent it, you felt something just under your fingertips. Grasping it and bringing it forward, you found that it was a folded piece of parchment, which you opened slowly, half expecting something odd to pop out given the strangeness of the bouquet’s appearance. Instead, all you found was a note written in handwriting that could only be described as a boyish scrawl. It read:

Y/n,

Moly flowers, for you. Beautiful, for a beauty.

Yours,

Teddy

You reread the note, perhaps ten times, before asking the question on both of your minds, “Who the fuck is Teddy?”

Thirty minutes passed. By now, you had scrounged up a vase to place the flowers in by your bedside. You and Hermione lay sprawled across your bed, trying to solve the mystery of who this elusive ‘Teddy’ was.

“I don’t get it,” Hermione said, “There’s no one at Hogwarts named ‘Teddy.’ It must stand for something. Maybe an acronym. Oh! Maybe a pseudonym or a pen name.” Hermione continued to prattle off possibilities as you stared blankly at the fabric hanging off your bedframe.

Breaking your reverie you conjectured, “Maybe it wasn’t meant for me?” At that, Hermione flicked your forehead for the second time that day. “Ow! Stop that! I think you enjoy doing that a bit too much for my liking. I’m going to bruise.” She gave you a blank look.

“Y/n.”

“…Hermione.”

“Your name is in the bloody note. It’s most definitely intended for you.”

Solid logic, ‘Mione.

“Well, regardless, I haven’t the faintest idea who fancies me, who this Teddy is, or how he got his hands on an entire bouquet of molies,” you said. “Godric knows you had a difficult enough time getting Professor Sprout to part with one blossom, let alone a whole bunch.”

Hermione hummed at that and replied, “He either stole the blossoms from Sprout’s greenhouse, somehow managed to ger her to depart with twelve blooms willingly, or he’s wealthy enough to have purchased them. Either way, he’s gone through a good deal of trouble—possibly literal criminal trouble—to do something sweet for you. Whoever he is, he clearly cares about you.”

Turning to face her, you cheekily replied, “Are you sure this isn’t some grand plot to express your sweet, passionate love for me?” You batted your eyelashes at her, causing her to laugh and hit you with one of the nearby pillows. “Hey! Not near my molies!” You pleaded.

With a mirthful smile, Hermione said, “As much as I love you, I don’t like you enough to go through all that trouble. Sorry!” This time, your hit her with the pillow. The two of you roared with laughter as you swatted and swung at the other with the various pillows on your bed. Eventually the both of you settled down, resting on your bed once more. In the silence, your mind turned once more to the puzzling question at hand.

Who was this ‘Teddy’?

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renaiswriting · 1 year

Text

Whispers of Strength

Pairing: Xu Minghao/Reader

Summary: The idea of having your best friend tell you, "I told you so," once again was infuriating, but you were sick and he was all you needed.

Warnings: slightly angst (but like- barely, you won't even realize it's there) with soft/happy ending (?) | FLUFF

Word count: 4.2k

Masterlist

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A sneeze was heard loudly echoing through the walls of the darkened room. It was around seven in the morning, and you were still in bed. Your alarm had stopped dreaming about ten minutes ago, but you couldn't find the willpower to get up and start getting ready for your classes.

The rest of the space shared with your roommate was awash in complete silence; there was no doubt that Minghao had left the bedroom a few minutes ago.

Unwilling to turn on the light on your bedside nightstand, you fumbled with the surface of your nightstand, finding a used handkerchief that you had left there in the early morning after struggling to sleep.

It seemed that no matter how much you blew your nose, one side of it was always completely unable to breathe.

Around four in the morning, you gave up, opting to breathe with your throat (something that was completely uncomfortable because you're not used to breathing that way).

After all, the cold air you had been exposed to the day before and the effort you had had to make to let oxygen into your body had ended up killing your throat, and now even breathing the smallest amount of air made you almost start crying.

A new sneeze came violently through your body, shaking you completely as it left your organism. At the burning sensation in your throat, you closed your eyes tightly, accepting the discomfort with resignation.

It was tiring; it felt as if thousands of knives were cutting the inside of your throat at the same time.

The screen of the phone that had been charging all night on your bedside table lit up, revealing that Minghao had sent you a message.

Minghao: You're on your way? I forgot my book for Economics III.

If the idea of skipping class had even appeared for a millisecond, it was completely gone.

I couldn't skip class now that Minghao had spoken to him.

Because skipping classes would mean having to tell Minghao that she was not going to attend, and it would involve having to admit that she had made a mistake.

Minghao had entered the same university as you in the same year. You had been studying the same major and attending the same classes from day one, but you hadn't seen or heard his name until you both found yourselves in the same dorm.

Minghao had requested a roommate change due to having constant problems with the one he had before, and you, being forced to get a new place to sleep that wasn't expensive, had no choice but to sign up for the college dorms.

Minghao had been the quietest person you had ever met, and that was a lot coming from you, who within three years had talked to, at most, about five people.

Was it any surprise that you had never seen him? Not really.

Making friends has been an extraordinarily difficult task for you ever since you were a little girl. For many years, you forced yourself to try to meet different people and keep in touch with them, but you soon discovered that if you didn't write to them, they never did.

And so you gradually began to drift further and further away from everyone, keeping only three friends who had shown that they cared about you as much as you cared about them.

So, at the beginning of your university career, you had promised yourself to focus more on your studies than on making friends, so you went to class, took notes, and when you finished, you hurried straight to the library to continue studying in complete silence for another three hours.

At first, living together was really awkward. Minghao didn't seem to know how to deal with you, and you didn't know how to deal with him.

And it was even more awkward when you passed each other in class because neither of you knew whether you should greet each other or just ignore each other.

Luckily, the relationship started to improve as soon as finals came around because both of you had a lot of studying to do and each of you had your own doubts.

They began to meet in the living room, sitting late at night reading and rereading the same books.

That's how they went from awkward roommates to roommates.

Your friendship began to forge when Minghao found you sitting in the bathroom with the door open and your phone in hand, crying uncontrollably.

That had been a bad week; not only were you extremely busy with all the group work and homework due in the various classes, but also the first exams had started, and you had failed one. So receiving a text message from your (at the time) boyfriend telling you that the relationship had come to an end was not in your plans, and as expected, the situation got the better of you.

Minghao stayed by your side all that night, making you tea and watching those movies you loved so much, and he didn't share your feelings towards them.

Becoming friends with Minghao meant that you had basically been adopted by the group of friends he had, and that meant that every two or three weeks they would get together somewhere to eat and take some of the stress out of college.

And it had been one of those get-togethers that had brought about the current state you were in at those moments. If there was one thing Minghao always took pride in, it was telling you how right he was with everything he advised you:

"Don't drink five cups of coffee before you go to take your exam because you're going to feel like going to the bathroom the whole time."

"Don't lend money to that person; you barely know them."

"Don't put so much spice in that food; it will hurt your stomach."

And in every one of them, he had been right.

So, when Minghao looked at the weather on his phone and noticed the low temperatures, I sighed deeply.

I had been thinking about wearing a certain outfit for almost a week, but it wasn't warm at all, and the solution of putting a jacket on top, which Minghao proposed, was not to my liking.

"The cold is psychological." You spoke to the reflection on the other side of the mirror. From there, her eyes connected for a few moments with Minghao's, sitting on your bed.

"And the fever you're going to get is also going to be psychological." Minghao responded by rolling his eyes. "Don't be stupid; you're going to get sick."

"But you all look ugly!" I cried in frustration, walking over to my various coats and studying them one by one.

"Wear one of mine," Minghao shrugged, too intent on what was happening on the phone in his hands, "it's not that much trouble."

The topic wasn't touched on again; Minghao seemed satisfied with the 'I'll think about it later' answer, and you just prayed that miraculously the sub-zero degrees would disappear.

"Which one are you going to want?" Minghao asked, entering your bedroom with a knock on the door. In her hands, she carried three different coats, all black.

"None," I replied, still finishing touching up my makeup, "thank you."

Minghao frowned, "But it's getting five degrees below zero." Minghao reminded you incredulously, "What are you going to wear?"

"I'm going to go like this; inside the restaurant, it's not going to be that cold."

"Yeah, but in the ten-minute walk to get to the restaurant, it's going to be cold."

"It's only ten minutes; how bad can it be?"

Minghao rolled his eyes, muttering "whatever'.

It was worse than just bad.

Even today, underneath the warmth wrapped around your body from the blankets, you could feel the cold you had experienced the day before.

You: Where is it?

You: "I'll be there in half an hour."

Once again, you blew your nose; it was already red and burning every time the handkerchief touched the irritated area.

You looked as horrible as you felt.

You were just praying that the makeup would cover up any traces of discomfort.

Minghao was sitting in his usual seat; his hand was extended in the air, catching your attention.

He had reserved the seat next to you so that the two of you could sit together.

Your head was throbbing and your body felt weak, but you were determined not to let Minghao notice your condition. So you walked quickly to the seat next to his, pretending that the ragged breathing and sloppy movements were only because you were still tired and not because of the discomfort you felt.Taking a step felt like walking on the sand at the beach, only this one weighed about seventy pounds and stuck to your feet.

"Did you bring it?" Minghao asked as soon as your body settled into the seat. You nodded in response, still not confident that your voice came out at all well. You had tried talking out loud in the bathroom before, and it seemed as if a demon was struggling to speak.

You pulled a large book out of your backpack, relieving the bag of the extra weight it didn't usually carry.

Minghao sighed in relief, stowing it in his own backpack.

While he was distracted, you pulled out a handkerchief from inside your backpack, quickly wiping your nose, and hiding it back in your jean pocket in time to talk to Minghao.

Luckily, Minghao filled much of the conversation, leaving you with the job of reacting or mumbling occasionally to his stories.

The economics III professor entered the classroom, and everyone automatically fell silent.

As the professor began to speak, you discreetly reached back into your bag and pulled out the pack of tissues you had hidden, realizing that the tissue you had grabbed earlier wasn't going to be enough for the rest of the class and that the professor had no intention of slowing down today's class just because you were feeling under the weather.

The professor asked a question that your brain didn't pick up on at all; you just weren't there.

Physically, you were there, but your brain didn't pick up on any of the difficult words your professor was saying.

Your notes reflected it; they were a mess.

You hadn't even managed to make a coherent sentence; most of them stopped mid-sentence because you couldn't keep up.

Minghao looked at your notes, trying to find some word he probably hadn't been able to understand, but he frowned as he looked at your notes.

This was unusual.

Usually you even wrote whenever the teacher took a break or took a breath, so why were you a mess today?

"I read this before," you excused yourself, "it's all in the book."

Which you weren't too sure would do any good since you hadn't even touched that book in the last week, but Minghao seemed to agree with that answer as he quickly rushed to write down what the professor was saying.

Suddenly he stopped speaking, his eyes traveling to the faces of the students in front of him.

You settled into your seat, sitting up straight and adjusting your posture.

You could make out a cough forming in the back of your throat, so you quickly cleared your throat softly, disguising the tickle that threatened to trigger a coughing fit at any moment.

Minghao looked at you with a worried expression. "Are you okay?" he asked.

You quickly smiled at him, shaking your head. "I'm perfectly fine," you reassured him, your voice sounding louder than it really felt. "I'm still very sleepy."

Minghao nodded, looking at your face for a couple of seconds before dropping the subject and turning his attention to the class.

You reached for your water bottle, hoping that the cold liquid would help quell the feeling that you were about to start coughing.

Taking a deep breath, you scolded yourself.

It was just a cold; for God's sake, it wasn't the end of the world, and it was stupid how much it was affecting you.

You stirred in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position to ease the persistent muscle pain.

As you attempted (and failed miserably) to keep your mind in the present, your brain was constantly repeating the same thing over and over again.

"He warned me about this; why was I so stupid? I should have listened."

"Next time, I'll not be this stubborn..."

"Just a little longer, I can make it through the day; just one more hour...

The painkillers you took on your way to your class were not helping at all; it felt as if you hadn't taken them at all. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over you; everything was moving. You stopped writing for a second, until it got better. Minghao turned to look at you, noticing you were not writing anything down. You send him a smile in return, forcing yourself to focus on the teacher's words and desperately trying to appear engaged.

The class finished with their teacher reminding them to read the next two chapters of their book for the next class.

"Shall we go home?" You asked, already rushing to the exit.

"Oh, Jeonghan asked to study together at the library this morning, and I told him we would be joining them, but if you don't want to-"

"Oh, no, yeah! Yeah! Let's go!" You forced a cheerful smile, hoping your eyes didn't give away how dead you were actually feeling.

"You sure? They will understand if you want to go home." Minghao asked you once again just to make sure. In response, you nodded, already heading to the library. "Wait!" Minghao rushed to grab your wrist and say, "We should eat something; I'm starving, aren't you?"

If anything, you were feeling like you were about to throw up because of how bad you were feeling. but you nodded nonetheless.

"You have barely touched your food." Minghao commented with a frown. Today was slightly better than the day before; the sun was kindly warming everybody under its rays. The group had agreed to move from the library to the concrete seats and tables outside so they could all have a small lunch and talk for a little bit before starting to study.

"I'm still kind of full from breakfast." You replied, your fork moving the noodles from side to side.

"Breakfast happened almost five hours ago; you can't possibly be full for that long." Minghao replied, at the same time that Jeonghan moved closer to you, his hand coming into contact with your forehead.

"You're hot."

"Thank you, I know." You replied, biting your lip seductively at him and pushing his hand away from your forehead with a smack.

Jeonghan's hand came back to your face, this time holding your chin and moving your face from left to right. "Your cheeks are red as well; I think you might have caught that virus that's going on around campus."

"What virus?" Mingyu asked. Your tallest friend was finishing his own lunch, liking his fingers, and eyeing the food you had in front of you.

"The one everybody is talking about, Seungcheol got it last week." Jeonghan replied. "He has been throwing up once every hour." Minghao frowned, checking your forehead himself.

"I'm fine, just not hungry." You replied, pushing your food in Mingyu's direction.

"Nah-ah," he shook his head, "if you're sick, I don't want to have it."

You tipped your tongue. "Such an ungrateful brat."

"I've got finals next week; I can't be throwing up!" He defended himself. "Trust me, if you weren't sick, I would eat it."

"You should probably go back home and sleep." Minghao suggested.

"I told you I'm fine!" You snapped, closing your eyes for a second to control your emotions. "I'm totally fine; I just want to study and get over it. Please"

Mingyu sighed, "Fine, but you're buying us coffee. If we're putting up with this attitude, this is the last thing you can do for us."

You bite your tongue, shutting down the need to tell Mingyu to go and fuck himself. "Fine."

"Race 'til the bus stop! Let's see who gets there first!" Mingyu shouted, taking advantage of his long legs.

It wasn't fair; in two strides, he had outpaced the others.

Jeonghan started running as fast as he could, as did Minghao.

You took a deep breath; your body was screaming for you not to.

It was already under too much stress from whatever it was battling at the time (a virus or a cold, or at worst, both) for you to demand that it use what little energy you had left in a race.

But you knew that if you didn't run, others would again insist that something wasn't right.

"I won!" Mingyu sang happily; he was the only one standing up; Jeonghan was laying down on the ground, trying to catch his breath; and Minghao was sitting with his legs wide open, both breathing quickly.

"No shit Sherlock." You commented sarcastically, sitting next to Jeonghan. "At least give us a chance."

"I would usually do it, but today you weren't even trying." Mingyu frowned. You rolled your eyes. Running has only made you breathe with your mouth, and the cold air that was entering your body only caused more harm.

"What do you mean?"

"You're sick." Minghao said calmly, "Just as I told you." He reminded you, looking straight into your eyes.

"I don't know what you're saying." You denied. Minghao shook his head. Taking his own scar from his neck and softly wrapping your own neck with its warmth.

"Stop it; you sweated it!" You faked disgust.

"Stop acting like a five-year-old." He said it coldly.

You froze in your spot, stopping to try to take the scarf off your neck.

You could feel Jeonghan and Mingyu's eyes on your discussion. You felt your cheeks and eyes turning from pink to red in embarrassment.

"I don't."

"Yeah, you do," Minghao replied calmly. "I told you to wear a jacket, and you didn't."

"Stop acting like my dad." You complained, standing up as the bus started coming near the bus stop.

You went first, trying to get as far away from Minghao as possible, hoping that both Jeonghan and Mingyu would understand it and save your ass from Minghao's nagging that was just waiting for you.

But of course, they were completely assholes and chose to sit together two rows behind both of you.

Minghao paid for his ticket, walking towards you.You avoided looking at him for the first five minutes, knowing he was looking at you—or the window, since both were in the same direction—in the reflection of the window.

"I'm sorry for reacting that way." Minghao whispered near your ear, not wanting the people next to them to listen to their conversation. "I didn't want to upset you."

You looked at his reflection for a couple of seconds before choosing the words you were going to use.

"I know," you started, turning to face him, "and I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

"If you were feeling that bad, you could just tell me; I would have given you my notes after class."

Minghao looked sad.

and seeing your friend sad made you feel sad.

"I'm sorry, it's just that the whole "I told you" thing is so annoying."

"But I did, in fact, tell you so."

"I know!" You exasperated. "I know you did! You always do, and it's insufferable. For me, it is. I feel like I can't make any mistakes because, at first sight of them, you're the first one to point them out." You left it all out.

"I don't." Minghao said, looking confused. "I didn't say that to make fun of your mistakes or anything like that. Never. I just want to point out that I did tell you because most of the time you just shut people down as soon as they say something you don't like, but sometimes you need to hear that."

"You're stubborn, extremely stubborn." He continued. "And that stubbornness will get you hurt or sick sometime." Just like right now."

Your emotions were all over the place, and now, at the slightly rice voice from Minghao, you were ready to boil your eyes out.

Minghao saw your watery eyes, stopped talking, and painted his face with worry.

"Don't cry, oh my god, I'm sorry, please don't cry."

Minghao wrapped his arm around your shoulders, awkwardly bringing you closer to his body, trying to comfort you by hugging you.

"I'm sorry. "I'm such a dick; you're already sick; please don't cry."

You wanted to tell him that it was okay, that you were in fact mostly crying because of how horrible you felt and how exhausted, both mentally and physically, you felt, but instead, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting the tears run freely on your face and wetting Minghao's hoodie.

The warmth that Minghao's body emitted was comforting; it was like having your own personal sun.

The sweet smell from his shampoo invaded your nose, making you feel safe in the familiarity of the smell.

It was nice to let all the tears out. It was like finally acknowledging how awful you had been feeling since you woke up.

It sucked.

Minghao brushed your hair, cleaning your cheeks from the old tears.

"We're almost home." He whispered, noticing that you were way calmer now that you had let everything out.

You nodded, closing your eyes and focusing on Minghao's delicate touch on your hair, trying to come back to reality.

The bus stopped, and you both went down, walking towards your shared dorm.

"I'll prepare you a bath." Minghao said, letting you take your time taking your shoes off.

"It's okay; you don't have to."

"I want to; it's my "I'm sorry for being a shitty friend" way to apologize."

"But you're not a bad friend." You corrected him.

Minghao smiled, disappearing into the bathroom.

You went to your bedroom, looking for your favorite pajamas. The only thing you wanted to do was take a bath and sleep for the rest of the day.

Minghao called you, letting you know everything was ready, leaving the bathroom all to yourself to enjoy the rose bomb bath he had.

The water was warm, and it smelled so good.

It felt so good in your sick body.

Your muscles are finally relaxing.

You stayed there until the water started to get cold, and as you started to get dressed, the smell of chicken soup hit you.

Minghao was waiting with the table seated.

"This is my mom's famous chicken soup," he told you, filling your glass with more water. "She always made me drink it whenever I was sick, so enjoy it; it's delicious."

"Wow, he's so humble; he compliments his own food." You joked but tried it anyway, your empty stomach welcoming the food with eagerness.

"So? How's it?" Minghao asked, looking attentive to your every move.

"Delicioso!" You answer in a terrible accent.

"Is that Spanish?" Minghao asked, confused.

"It's really, really good!" "It brings the Spanish out in me!"

Minghao laughed, saying, "There's more if you want; you should really eat well; you barely ate today."

You nodded.

He was right.

"Stay tomorrow; I'll take care of taking good notes so you can study later, okay?"

"But I'll feel better tomorrow."

Minghao rolled his eyes. "You'll go to class and spend two hours attempting to take notes while your mind is everywhere but the class; let your body and mind relax for tomorrow. It's just one day; it won't hurt."

You were about to start an argument, but you remembered the words Minghao told you earlier.

"Okay." You replied instead, "But make sure everything's in Korean, please, or at least let me know in advance if there's anything in Chinese. I can barely deal with a second language while sick; I don't think I'll be able to deal with one I don't speak at all."

"Sure thing, let's watch a movie." Minghao proposed, deciding that it would be best to watch it in your bedroom, just in case you fell asleep.

"What do you want to watch?" You asked him while getting comfortable under the blankets.

"Whatever you want." Minghao replied, logging into his Netflix account from his laptop. "I'm fine with whatever."

"Mean girls?" you asked.

Minghao nodded, watching the movie.

You knew Minghao wasn't a big fan of that movie, but you appreciated the fact that he was watching it with you.

"I want to cuddle," you confessed; this was something your mom always did when you were a kid, and we're feeling particularly sick.

Minghao didn't say anything; he moved behind you, doing as you asked.

"Thanks." You mumbled.

"Don't fall asleep; we haven't even gotten to the pink Wednesday part yet." Minghao joked.

"Tomorrow is Wednesday; we should also wear pink." You said your mind was half awake, half asleep.

"The only oink thing you're going to wear tomorrow is going to be your pajamas, but sure, let's do it." Minghao agreed.

You smiled.

Your eyes were burning from exhaustion.

And without thinking twice, you let your kind shut down, allowing your body the rest it wished for the whole day, feeling safe in Minghao's arms.

146 notes · View notes

angiethewitch · 3 months

Note

hi i am enamored by your sounds of life post. i grew up not being able to hear much or at all and now after a surgery i can hear with crystal clarity. all of the frequencies high and low distant and near. i think i felt just as happy as you did initially but it didn't last very long, i started to become very irritated and depressed.. you can't just turn the sound off, everything makes noise, the wind makes noise and you can't even see the wind, im surprised we can't hear the roar of the sun. sleeping was difficult, reading was difficult, *thinking* was difficult.. even in the quietest places like a library with only two people inside, every page turn, every slight weight shift leaving the wood in chairs creaking.

i don't mean to worry anyone, i wear a combo of earplugs & sound suppressing earmuffs when I'm not out and about now and i feel better mostly. i feel a combo of both jealous that i didn't get to feel as joyful for as long as you have AND super happy you weren't as affected as me, but maybe you did feel something similar and just keep it private because it doesn't dominate how you feel as a whole. i guess i just want to know if you experienced anything similar?

i didn't mean for this to affect anyone negatively so if you don't want to post it that's ok, if you still want to answer just call out the hearing anon thank you for reading

hey, im sorry your experience has been bad. I do get you, im autistic and sometimes it does get too much, and I suppose im lucky in a sense because if I get overwhelmed I can just switch my hearing off. obviously switching it off comes with its own problems, but it can help with the sensory overload.

I suppose I don't really talk about it because im just so grateful i can hear after I spent 24 years in a muffled world. ive been hit by a car twice because I couldn't hear them. I couldn't appreciate all the sounds my little cat made. before my rats died, I never got to hear them make all the noises they do until I got aids. I spent my childhood having people tell me I just wasn't listening, people calling me stupid and slow. so now I can hear, im embracing the positives of the experience. there are certainly downsides, like sensory overload and finding noises that set my autism off and I suffer from migraines anyway so the extra flow of information sets them off occasionally and that's difficult...but I spent so long not being able to hear and experience the laughter of my friends, my husbands heartbeat, never being able to appreciate the subtler sounds of life, always missing out on conversation, that I choose to focus on the good. im so glad I can hear now and experience the soundscape this world has to offer me.

#anonymous

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sloanesallow · 1 year

Text

Endgame

Sloane is worried about her future, and Sebastian can’t imagine a future without her. The two discuss what lies ahead for their relationship, and decide to focus on the present instead. Alternatively, Sloane and Sebastian’s first time.

Notes: I had to get this out of my system, and for that I have no apologies. Hopefully this is as tasteful and stupidly romantic as I think it is. This can be read as a stand-alone, or as something that happens in the distant future, after the events of "So It Goes."

Tags: Aged-Up Characters, Sexual Content, Minors DNI, more tags on AO3

Available on Ao3 OR wattpad

The end of term was quickly approaching, and for seventh years this meant that they’d soon sit for the N.E.W.T.s that would determine their futures. Despite his penchant for adventure and occasional trouble-making, Sebastian had always been an excellent student with high marks, but even he had been taking time to study for the impending exams. That evening, he had skipped dinner to make use of the library while it was at its quietest, tucked away in an upstairs alcove with his nose buried in a textbook. It wasn’t until Madam Scribner’s scolding pulled him out of his concentration that he realized he had lost track of time and was about to miss curfew. Not that it really mattered—how much of his time at Hogwarts had been spent exploring the castle after hours when everyone else was asleep?

Nevertheless, he packed up his books and hurried along so as to not give the librarian another opportunity to send him to detention—he was already close to beating his previous year’s record. On the way to the Slytherin common-room, he recounted the day in his head, reminding himself of all the upcoming assignments he still needed to complete: thirty inches on Occlumency for Professor Hecat, another twenty on antiderivatives for Arithmancy, and…he was forgetting something. Was the potions work due tomorrow, or the following week? Perhaps Sloane could refresh his memory.

Sebastian suddenly stopped in his tracks, realizing very suddenly that he had gone the entire day without seeing her. They (regrettably) only shared one class that semester, and Professor Sharp had been keen enough to separate them as soon as he became privy to their relationship, not wanting ‘young love’ to distract them from their studies. He did not recall seeing her that morning at the potions station with her house-mate Poppy Sweeting, but had been distracted by another one of Garreth Weasley’s experiments gone wrong. Come to think of it, Sloane had not met him for their usual lunch rendezvous on the flying field either—he had chalked it up to her being equally busy with preparing for the N.E.W.T.s.

He cursed his preoccupied mind, disappointed he hadn’t noticed her absence earlier. Was she sick? Maybe he could sneak up to the Hospital Wing and check. He hoped she was not off on another adventure, without him. The more likely scenario was that she was already tucked in bed, safe and sound within the Hufflepuff common-room, a place in which he was absolutely prohibited from entering. Or maybe she was elsewhere—the greenhouse? The Undercroft? The problem with living in a castle was that it was a maze of never-ending and ever-changing corridors. There were literally a million different places Sloane could be. Sebastian pondered her whereabouts for another moment before deciding to listen to his gut, and made for the Astronomy tower.

Once in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, Sebastian closed his eyes and concentrated, thinking only of finding Sloane. He thought about the Room of Requirement in which she had shared with him the previous year, and how much quality time they had spent there ever since. He paced in one direction, smiling at the memory of when she had kissed his cheek for the first time in front of the mallowsweet plants. Turning on his heel, he crossed back in front of the dancing trolls and thought about when one of her many Nifflers stole his pocket-watch, never to be seen again. On his last pass along the corridor, he remembered when he confessed to Sloane that he loved her, and how the room around her changed in reaction to her emotions.

The door appeared, taking up space on the otherwise empty wall as if it had been there all along. Sebastian wasted no time, the entrance disappearing behind him as soon as he crossed the threshold. He expected Deek to greet him at the end of the short hall, but the house-elf was nowhere to be found. He craned his neck to look up at the somewhat infinite sky of the main room, somewhat surprised by the change in ambiance. It was usually sunny and bright, the sound of songbirds echoing throughout—it fit Sloane’s personality perfectly. Tonight, however, the room was dark, moonlight spilling through floating clouds and casting long shadows across the walls and floor. Even though it was late-spring, there was a chill to the air, causing a shiver to crawl up his spine.

He called out for her as he moved slowly through the long hallway. “Sloane?”

It was just as dark in that part of the Room, a flickering fireplace the only lightsource. Sebastian peered behind the tall screen that divided the area to investigate, only to discover a pile of mismatched blankets and pillows spread out in front of the hearth. In the center, curled up on her side with just her head poking out, was Sloane.

He grinned at the sight, as if she were a bird in its nest. “Sweetheart, is that you?”

“Sebastian?” she tilted her chin, rolling her eyes back in an effort to look in his direction. He circled around her form, crouching down so they could better see each other. His delight faded when he noticed her bloodshot eyes and flushed face—she was crying. Her lips were shaky as she attempted a smile. “You found me.”

“That I did,” he replied, reaching out to brush the wild hair from her face. He traced his thumb across her cheek to wipe away the tears. One of her hands emerged from the blanket to rest against his, and he flinched at how cold her skin was. He wanted to ask what was troubling her, but instead of saying something sweet, his brain and mouth betrayed him. “Room for one more?”

He would not have taken it personally if she denied him, understanding it was not entirely proper. Even though they had been formally courting for the last year, they hardly ever had the opportunity to be truly alone, without the fear of being discovered. They held hands while walking through the castle, and exchanged chaste kisses before departing to their respective classes. Ominis had discovered them snuggling in the Undercroft on several occasions. Not that there weren’t more amorous activities occurring in darkened alcoves and restricted sections, but Sebastian had been careful to maintain at least some decorum in regards to his relationship with Sloane. As much as he wanted to find a way to sneak into her dorm room and have his way with her, his parents (if they were still alive) would be disappointed if he did not behave like the utmost gentleman. Her virtue would remain intact, and his more baser desires would have to wait until they were properly wed.

Sebastian cleared his throat, hoping his expression did nothing to betray his thoughts. “Or, if we’re quiet, I can escort you back—”

“No,” Sloane said with a bashful smile. “Please, stay.”

Before she could change her mind, he moved, clumsily discarding his boots and jacket so he’d be more comfortable. Sloane shifted, lifting the thick duvet from around her shoulders so he could tuck himself in beside her. Sebastian was immediately surrounded by her warmth, and it could have lulled him into a fast and deep sleep if it were not for the worry he felt about her tearful demeanor. Rolling onto his side so he could face her, he gathered her icy hands between his own. He cast a non-verbal warming spell and softly kissed the pads of her fingers.

“Have you been here all day?”

She silently nodded, scooting herself closer. Sebastian took the hint, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and waist as he tucked her close. She rested her head against his chest, and he combed his fingers through her soft hair, tilting his head to press a kiss against her crown. Sloane idly toyed with the fabric of his tie, sniffling as her tears finally subsided.

“I had a meeting with Professor Weasley this morning,” she started to explain. “She wanted to discuss my plans for the future. Even though she’s confident that I’ll score well on my N.E.W.T.s, I’m not so sure. Even if I do earn a passing grade, I’m uncertain of what comes next.”

“You don’t want to teach?” Sebastian asked. Sloane had expressed interest in it before, when he finally declared a Professor’s track before the start of their seventh year. It was only natural that he would be a scholar like his parents before him, and he was proud to continue the Sallow legacy. Even Hecat had started to notice his aptitude, offering him a position as her assistant after graduation.

“How am I supposed to know what I want to do with my life when I’m barely eighteen? I was not born into this world, and I’ve had to adjust to so much change—I’m not entirely sure if I’m ready to fully embrace it. There’s still so much I want to see, to learn…”

Sebastian frowned. He had been so selfishly wrapped up in his own future that he had not stopped to consider if Sloane wanted to be a part of it. There was always a quiet fear that he hid in the back of his mind, that they would fall out of love and drift apart.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Do you…not want to be…with me?”

Sloane leaned back with a startled breath, tilting her head to look directly at him. “Sebastian that—that is not what I said!”

“I only thought—” he was unable to hold back his words. “I thought we might live together, after we graduate.”

“Would that not be considered inappropriate?”

“Not if we got married.”

Had he really just said that? She was blinking at him, speechless and agape. He smirked, despite the heat rising to his cheeks. “We could live in sin, if that is what you prefer.”

“Be serious,” she whispered.

He brought a hand up to tuck a loose strand of ashy-blonde hair behind her ear, and rested his palm against her cheek. “I am being serious.”

“Close your eyes,” he instructed. Sloane hesitated before fluttering her eyes closed, humming slightly when he kissed her forehead. He kept his lips pressed there as he quietly spoke, “I want you to imagine it with me. We own a tiny little cottage with a large garden for you to grow as much mallowsweet as you want. There’s a window in the kitchen where you can watch me as I struggle with the livestock and chop wood with a proper axe. We’ll keep a floo open for visitors, and entertain our friends every Christmas. And when the time comes, I’ll transfigure an extra room or two for our children.”

Beneath his hand, Sloane’s cheeks flushed with color, but she did not protest. When he glanced down, she was smiling. Sebastian’s heart was racing, in disbelief that he was revealing all that he desired for their future. It was more than he had ever dared to admit to her before—she knew how much he loved her, but this was a different kind of devotion. He rested his head against hers, and stroked his thumb across her cheek, down to her chin.

“But first, we’ll travel. Paris, Cairo…even America, if that’s what you want. We can impress them with our fancy accents and see what the fuss about Ilvermorny is all about. Only when we’re bored and homesick will we retire to the countryside to live out the rest of our well-earned, quiet lives.”

Sloane was silent for a long time, her tiny smile the only indication he had not completely terrified her with his fantasy. When she slowly opened her eyes, they were shining with fresh, happy tears. “What about your offer to teach with Professor Hecat?”

“None of that matters if I cannot be by your side,” he said. “I know we’re still young, and this wasn’t exactly how I planned on proposing but—”

She cut him off with a kiss, still grinning against his mouth as she spoke, “If this is you asking, then yes.”

Sebastian kissed her back, unable to suppress his joy. “Yes?”

“Yes,” her laughter nearly drowned out the answer. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he repeated, whispering the words into her mouth as they embraced.

Sloane cupped his face between her hands, soft giggles morphing into quiet sighs as their kiss intensified, spurred on by his heartfelt confession. He pulled her as close as possible, and before he knew it, she had pushed him flat onto his back, her knees straddling his thighs as she peered down at him. For a split second, their eyes met, and he was sure his pupils were blown just as wide as hers, fascinated and excited by what was happening. Sebastian threaded his hands in her hair again before tugging her back down, eagerly kissing and licking into her mouth as a moan caught in her throat. These weren’t foreign sounds to his ears, but still rare enough that it caused a heat to spread throughout his body, encouraging him to move.

He leaned forward, looping one arm around her waist to scoot her closer as he sat up. The blankets fell around them as she easily slid forward into his lap, the two breaking away with equally startled gasps when their hips brushed. Sloane reflexively bore down, causing him to flinch and hiss—he was already well and properly aroused. He tried not to think about how so many of his dreams had started out just like tonight, innocently enough, before his overactive imagination turned the situation into something much more tawdry and indecent. This was not what he had anticipated, even after their happy engagement.

He pulled away from her slightly. “We—we should stop.”

Sloane swallowed thickly, and he was momentarily mesmerized by the movement of her throat. “We should?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“You…” her eyes were scanning his face. “You don’t want to…?”

“Stop?” he clarified, gulping down his anxiety. He told the truth, “...no.”

He tentatively kissed her lips, brushing his nose against hers as he pressed his forehead against hers to meet her gaze. “I don’t want you to feel obligated—”

“Sebastian,” she breathed his name, not helping with his wild thoughts. One of her hands trailed up to thread into the hair at the back of his neck. “I’ve just agreed, in not so many words, to be your wife. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not wait for the marital bed.”

All Sebastian could hear was the pounding of his heart echoing in his ears. “You want…this? You want me?”

“Yes.”

When he thought about what his first time with Sloane might be like, he envisioned a certain kind of hastiness, desperate hands and sloppy kisses as they shed their clothes in a frenzied race to the metaphorical finish line. Instead, their kisses were much more languid, tender and passionate as their hands slowly roamed. It was better this way, he silently concluded, so that they could take their time. It seemed she was just as content not to rush. He blindly reached for the buttons of her waistcoat, deftly undoing them one-by-one before pulling the fabric away and tossing it to the side.

“My clothes won’t remove themselves,” he teased against her lips, fingers already moving to untie the silk bow tucked beneath her shirt collar. Sloane quietly snickered, rolling her eyes before sliding her hands to his front, making short work of his vest and tie. She inspected the fabric, a glint in her eye telling him it was unlikely he’d be getting it back after tonight.

They leaned back from one another to make it easier for them to undo the buttons of their shirts in tandem, Sloane’s breathing increasing as his fingers brushed against the skin of her clavicle. Sebastian felt his own breath hitch when she pushed back the cotton fabric, hands smoothing across his bare shoulders as she removed it completely. She smiled, fingers tracing over the ever-present silk tie he wore around his right wrist, a good-luck charm she’d gifted so long ago now. Sloane stared at him then, stormy-colored eyes dancing across his chest, focusing for a long while on his toned muscle before flicking her gaze up.

“Sebastian, you’re covered in freckles,” she said, with a certain kind of delight that made him blush. Before he could properly remove her blouse she had moved forward, pressing her lips against the slope of where his neck met shoulder. Her tongue darted out, tracing up to the shell of his ear. “Where else are you hiding them?”

He bit back a groan. “Oh, that’s not fair.”

“Now you know how I feel everytime you’d whisper naughty things to me before we parted in the evenings,” she kissed his cheek. “You have no idea the sort of state you repeatedly left me in.”

“You’ll have to show me,” he replied, imagining the sight of her in bed, woefully frustrated.

He was finally able to discard her shirt, adding it to the growing pile of clothes nearby. He took his time with her stays, lazily pulling at the ribbons. If Sloane was growing impatient, she didn’t say. As soon as the garment was removed, he descended upon her neck, grinning against her skin as she moaned.

“Be careful,” she hissed as he nipped her with his teeth. “Your little love bites are difficult to hide.”

“Then don’t hide them,” he replied, soothing his tongue over the mark, only to form another along the jut of her collarbone. He trailed away, pushing the thin strap of her chemise with his nose. She watched him, lips parted and swollen from their kisses, as he gradually pulled at the silky fabric until it pooled around her waist.

At first, Sloane attempted to shield her nudity, but Sebastian caught her hands, lifting them to kiss along her knuckles and the inside of her wrist. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

She allowed him to move her arms to the side, the tint to her cheeks turning a deeper shade of scarlet. Her chest heaved up and down with every shaky breath, enticing him even more. He slid his hands up along her bare waist, barely able to meet her eyes again. “Can I touch you?”

“—yes.”

Sebastian tentatively cupped her breasts, rolling the small weight of them in his hands and repeating the action when it elicited another moan. He arched down, replacing one of his hands with his mouth, licking at her nipple until it peaked against his tongue.

“Sebastian…”

What he wouldn’t do to have her say his name like that again, needy and breathless with an unspoken ask for more. He hummed, moving his lips to wrap around her other nipple. He hushed against her skin, “what is it darling?”

Sloane’s answer came in the way of her hips, slowly rolling against his own, pressing firm against his clothed erection. There was no hiding his want for her, with the way her skirt had bunched up around her legs, and the friction only made it worse. She looked at him with half-hooded eyes, her fingers tracing down the lines of his abdomen before resting along the hem of his trousers.

“I think,” she managed between a whimper as he continued to idly fondle her chest. “We are still wearing far too many clothes.”

Sebastian agreed. He guided her so she was laying back against the nest of blankets, her arms bent at the elbows and framing her face. Her blonde hair spread out wildly against the pillow, as if she were a portrait of a divine goddess come alive. She was beautiful, and even though he could scarcely believe it, she was his. Sitting back on his haunches, he watched as gooseflesh appeared wherever he touched along her skin. He tugged at the waistband of her skirt, dragging her chemise down along with it over the curve of her hips before removing the garments completely. A groan escaped Sebastian’s throat as he drank in the sight of her naked form, eyes roaming from the peaks of her breasts down across her flat abdomen and belly button until he focused on the thatch of wispy hair at the crux of her thighs.

“You’re staring,” she whispered, a pink flush covering her entire body.

“There’s a lot for me to look at,” he smirked, lifting one of her legs so he could inspect her more carefully. “You are…exquisite. I want to taste every last inch of you.”

He accentuated each word with just that, a feather-light kiss that started from her ankle, trailed up her calf and behind her knee and the inside of her thigh before he kissed down the length of her other leg. Beneath him, Sloane was trembling, biting down on her bottom lip to contain her whimpering. It was thrilling to know he was causing such a reaction with his touch alone. He ghosted his hands back up, watching as her eyes fluttered shut as he tentatively grazed his fingers across her centere.

“Sebastian, please,” she canted, and he gently grasped her free hand in his, moving it back to her heat.

“Show me,” he instructed, moaning with her as she guided him, encouraging his fingers to press through her folds to find her entrance. He swallowed a curse, gasping at the slick feeling and the heat that surrounded his digit as he slowly pushed inside. “Like this?”

Sloane offered no coherent response, just nodded enthusiastically as she adjusted his hand so he could more easily penetrate her, pressing his thumb against a bundle of nerves that caused her to flinch with a short gasp. “Right there.”

It was a good thing Sebastian was a quick learner. He copied the movements she so graciously taught him, glancing up to watch as her expression shifted, brows tightly furrowed and eyes shut as she chased the pleasure he was giving. He’d never wanted anything more than to see her through it. Tentatively, he pushed further in, curling upwards before withdrawing. This time, he added a second finger, groaning at how impossibly wet she was.

“Is this all for me, sweetheart?” he brushed the pad of his thumb across where she’d shown him, amazed by the way her body writhed in reaction. He had an idea, one he hoped she’d enjoy. As he shifted, Sloane peeked her eyes open to look down at him, inhaling sharply at his new position between her thighs. Despite her hesitant expression, she moved her legs to accommodate the width of his shoulders, one of her hands snapping to grip his shoulder.

“What—” she stumbled over the word as he continued to move his fingers in and out, gradually picking up the pace. Her voice was barely audible. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“I wouldn’t call myself an expert…yet,” he softly chuckled, making sure his breath landed against the soft skin of her thigh. “But there is some very interesting literature on the subject in the restricted section. We’ll have to put my research to the test.”

Whatever Sloane planned on saying was drowned out by a sharp yelp of surprise as he replaced his thumb with his mouth, and dragged the flat of his tongue from where his fingers were pressed inside to swirl around her clit. He was only encouraged by her wanton sounds, arousal straining against his trousers as he refrained from simply devouring her.

“I—God, Sebastian,” she whimpered. “I’m so close.”

Sebastian responded immediately, quickening the trust of his fingers and the movement of his mouth against her core. Sloane’s fingers found purchase in his hair, tugging him closer as a spasm rocked her hips upward. That’s it, he realized, focusing on the way the ecstasy shook through her body. Only when she slumped back against the blankets did he pull away and rested his head against her thigh. The mesmerizing sight of the mess he’d made of her had him in a trance.

“You’re so perfect,” he didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice, raspy and breathless from his excursion. When he craned his neck up, he found she was already gazing down at him with a new kind of want shining in her eyes. Still, he had to ask. “Do you want more?”

“Yes,” she slowly nodded, watching as he steadily lifted himself to sit back on his knees. He was already so dizzy, drunk on the taste of her. Sloane followed suit, soft hands caressing his shoulders and arms before resting along the waistband of his pants. She leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Show me, please.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to feel flustered, suddenly self-conscious about revealing himself to her. For all the wild confidence he’d had before, he could feel it wavering under her watchful eye as he undid the clasp of his trousers, letting the fabric fall open to expose his drawers. Sloane’s eyes widened a little as she inspected the outline of his manhood, straining against the fabric and just aching to be touched.

“Can I?” she reached out, and Sebastian grasped her hand, guiding her just as she had before.

“Care—ful,” his breath hitched as her fingers traced the length, able to feel the warmth of her palm through the thin cotton. In a desperate need for more, he pushed at his clothing until both his pants and underclothes were bunched along his thighs, exposing him completely. He tried not to think too much about the way her lips parted with a startled gasp at the sight.

“It’s—” she swallowed a gasp, and he did the same as her fingers tentatively grasped him again, this time with no fabric to separate his touch. It was almost too much for him already. “You’re…big.”

Sebastian’s chest swelled with male pride, but he at least tried to be humble. “You sure know how to inflate a man’s ego—ohh…”

He moaned as her thumb brushed against the sensitive head of his cock, and he grasped her forearm to stop her movements, if only for a moment.

“Is this okay?” her voice was so sweet, fingers flexing around him as she asked. He hunched forward, resting his forehead against her shoulder as he nodded. Sloane seemed to understand the need to be gentle, but any slight movement of her fingers caused him to spasm. It was an overpowering sensation, one he had never managed to produce while alone. He wondered if Sloane knew the power she held over him.

Sebastian gripped her tightly, panting against her neck. “I—fuck,” he hissed, bucking up into her hand. “Sloane, please. I need to be inside of you. Please.”

She eagerly nodded her approval, hands snapping up to cradle his face as he kissed her fervently, frantically tugging at his trousers and socks, wiggling his toes as he kicked them off his feet. Their bodies fell back into the soft blankets, Sebastian adjusting her so she was comfortably resting against the pillows. Sloane bent her knees so he could situate himself between her legs, both gasping out as his erection brushed against her folds, still soaked from his earlier ministrations. He nearly collapsed, catching his weight on his elbow as he sought the delicate skin of her neck again, uncaring with how his lips and tongue would surely leave a bruise to be discovered in the morning.

When he finally found the strength to pull away and look down at her, she was staring up at him in silent wonder, the fire from the hearth reflecting in her shining eyes. She rested her hands along his shoulders, sliding one to tenderly hold the side of his face. He leaned into her touch, turning to kiss the inside of her wrist.

“I love you,” he breathed. More than anything else in this world, he added, too overcome with emotion to say the words. “Siobhan.”

She widened her eyes—he hardly ever used her given name, alerting her to the sincerity of his words. He nervously licked his lips, in utter disbelief this was actually happening. “Are you sure? Absolutely sure you want—”

“More than anything, Sebastian. I love you,” she replied, as if she had read his mind, craning her neck to kiss his lips. “I’m ready.”

Sebastian shakily reached between them, grasping his length and pressed against her entrance. Sloane’s breath hitched, and he was unable to hold back the deep, guttural groan that escaped his throat. As much as he felt the need to plunge himself forward, he held back, the voice in the back of his mind reminding him to move slowly for her sake. He gradually pushed forward, kissing her again as she whimpered.

“Shh…just relax,” he muttered against her lips, smoothing his hand across her waist. Inch by inch he closed the distance, shuddering at the impossible heat that surrounded him. When he was fully sheathed inside, his mind went blank. He understood with amazing clarity why wars were waged, and why men drove themselves mad in the pursuit of a woman’s touch.

Moments passed before one of Sloane’s hands trailed down to grasp his hip. “Don’t stop.”

Sebastian complied, pulling back only slightly before advancing again, repeating the small movements as they both acclimated to the feeling. He clenched his jaw, struggling already—he was desperate to make the moment last, to see her completely undone and satisfied. They continued to kiss passionately as he fell into a steady rhythm, canting his hips so he could grind against her. He curled around her, pressing his lips to whatever skin he could find—her neck, shoulder, and breasts—murmuring incoherently about how he couldn’t believe love could ever feel this way, so dizzying and euphoric, and wonderful.

“My—Sloane,” he rasped, hooking one arm under her knee to spread her further, allowing him to thrust deeper still. She arched up, neck craned back as she cried out in ecstasy. He withdrew completely before diving forward, quickening his pace. He continued whispering against her skin, “You’re doing so well, I can feel you—”

“Sebastian, I—” she choked, eyes glazed over as a new wave of pleasure began to wash over her.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, shifting the arm he had been bracing his weight on to wrap around her shoulders, hand grasping at her hair. He faltered as he tried to keep momentum. It wasn’t a lie—he could feel her clenching around him, and with every shallow thrust it was getting harder to hold back. “I—Sloane, I’m going to—” he couldn’t think straight. “Where should I—”

“Inside,” she answered, as if there was no doubt. He wavered again, but she silently encouraged him, fingers digging into the flesh at his hip, her other hand grasping at the curled hair at the nape of his neck. “Sebastian, please.”

With an almost possessive growl he held her, pressing his body impossibly close as he thrust harder, unstopping as he hushed against the shell of her ear to come with him. She was already trembling beneath him, legs spasming as they hooked around his waist to hold him close. Sloane pulled his face to hers and he greedily captured her lips, grunting as he snapped his hips forward one last time, shaking with her as he spilled deep within her pulsing heat.

Sebastian was sure he had died, with the way his vision blurred with a blinding white light before fading completely. Feeling boneless, he collapsed, his arm unable to keep the weight of his shaky limbs propped up any longer.

He was unsure how much time passed before Sloane was gently pushing at his shoulder, breathlessly chuckling as she kissed his temple. “Sebastian, you’re crushing me.”

“Sorry,” he gasped, reluctantly pulling himself away, suppressing the way his male mind reacted to the sight of the mess they’d made. He rolled onto his back, and stared up at the enchanted ceiling, breathless. Surely, his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. He turned his head to glance at Sloane, grinning when he found she was already staring at him with a bashful smile. “We really just—”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “We did.”

Sebastian grasped her hand, lacing their fingers. Somewhere in the delirium of his mind, he thought to conjure a warm towel, which Sloane gratefully took to clean herself off. She sighed, “I’ll need a bath.”

“I’ll join you,” he eagerly responded. Sloane raised an eyebrow.

“If you thought I was insufferable before,” he joked, finally able to catch his breath. “It’s going to be impossible, keeping my hands off of you.”

Sebastian would have been glad to fall into her again, but the sound of his grumbling stomach interpreted his thoughts. Sloane heartily laughed, covering her mouth as she shook her head at him.

“Did you skip dinner again?” she chided. He shrugged, rolling towards her to attempt a kiss. She allowed him, but held him at arm’s length. “Food first—youthful energy only gets you so far.”

“Aren’t you glad I never stopped stashing items from the kitchen?” he smirked, ghosting his fingers across the silky expanse of her thigh. “After food, a bath?”

“Yes,” Sloane nodded, smiling bright. Her eyes shined mischievously, exciting him. “Then…more. I’m curious to know what exactly you’ve been reading in the restricted section without me.”

He was all too happy to oblige.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow #hufflepuff oc #smut

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the-royal-petals · 2 years

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Lack of Emotion | Stephen Strange x Reader | Part 1

Description: Stephen is frustrated that you don't show any emotions around him, do you hate him? Did he do something wrong? You've been like this since you first came to Kamar-Taj and Stephen wants to do something about it.

Warnings: Mention of Death, Light Angst

[ Part 1 ] - [ Part 2]

Note: I am proud of this!

Kamar-Taj has been your home for as long as you can remember. You came here when you were 10 years old and moved from master to master. The Ancient One was your first mentor, becoming one of your idols until she passed away. You weren't always quiet, always having something to say, hung out with most of the mentors and even cracked a joke or two; over time that happiness and positivity faded after the Ancient One's passing. Deep down you blamed one person for it. . . a new reckless sorcerer that never seemed to leave you alone.

Stephen Strange.

He had been told by other sorcerers that you were one of the quietest students -- but you were talented to say the least. When the Zealots attacked, you held your own against Kaecillius until he knocked you out. The only one that lasted longer than you was Stephen and you hated it.

There was a lot you hated about him, how cocky he was and always willing to make a remark about somebody. You managed to escape him when he first came here, watching him from afar like a sniper, though after he became a master and apparently redeemed himself, you figured you'd at least let him come a few metres closer. Since then, you spoke three times.

Today was like any other day. You were sitting in the library with Master Wong sifting through the books, setting them onto a table before returning them in a different order. This was one of the only places you could be without people bothering you. Wong stood in front of you, setting a book next to you with a small smile; though he didn't say anything. You reached for the book and read the title: 'Astral Projection.' Why on earth did he give you that? Before you could look up at Wong, he had disappeared to the other side of the bookshelf. Dammit.

Though you were quiet, you only spoke to Wong; the only conditions of this was that you had to be standing next to each other alone.

Taking the book, you stood up, approached him and held it up to him.

"Why do I need this? I already know how to Astral Project," you told him. Wong turned to you and eyed the book with a nod.

"You do. But our new student doesn't."

He couldn't be talking about Stephen could he? Deep in your heart you hoped it was a young kid or somebody who your tolerated. Anybody but Stephen. Your face fell as Wong gestured out the door, Stephen stood in the middle of the courtyard with Master Daniel, conjuring up a shield and creating portals with the rest of the class.

If there was something you had to admit, Stephen's skills could outmatch yours. He had a photographic memory for goodness sake. Why did you have to teach him? Couldn't you just hand the book to him? You could only think this was Wong's plan to make you and Stephen talk. It wasn't a secret that you despised him, blamed him for the death of the Ancient One. He had the cloak for goodness sake, why couldn't that save her? Why did he have to stand around and watch her die? He was a doctor! Why couldn't he save her?

Recalling the memory made your fists clench. Wong's hand went to your shoulder, pressing it gently and squeezing it, attempting to bring you back to reality. "Are you okay?" He asked, concern lifted onto his face, the book was no longer in your hand but on the table next to you. "I understand you do not wish to see Strange, however it's important that you settle this discourse between you two. You blame him for the Ancient One's death, however blaming someone will not bring her back. . . I miss her too." He said watching you look away from him as he spoke, trying to not believe a single word. She can't be dead. . . she was like a mother to you. "All you need to do is hand the book to him, that's all."

You felt your insides tense up as you pushed down your emotions. Your eyes stung from the build up of tears, which you wiped away and covered with a brief spell. Picking up the book, you nodded.

Just hand the book to him. . .

Once you left the library, you approached Stephen, holding the book across your chest like a barrier between you two. He looked at you once you came close enough.

"What's this?" He asked.

You didn't say a thing. You held the book out to him and gestured to Wong who stood at the door. Stephen rolled his eyes.

"I've already read this. Give it back to Wong." You shook your head, pushing the book back into Stephen's hands with force, staring him down. Though you didn't speak a word, the trainees around you could sense your anger. "Fine!" He took the book and you walked off, just in time to hear him remark on your silence.

Standing in your tracks, your snapped around, returning back to him, this time with the staff of the living tribunal in your hand. A circle cleared from around you as you held the staff up to him; he didn't need to be told that you wanted to spar. . . Or that's what he thought. Master Daniels stood to the side, eying Wong who shook his head in disbelief.

"You'd rather pick a fight with me?" He looked around, "you know better than to spar with somebody who is better than you." Stephen held up a shield and marched forwards, sending an attack towards your staff which you blocked.

"Never underestimate anybody." You finally said, your voice was low

This was going to go one of two ways; you could lose yourself and actually end up hurting somebody, or he could end up kicking your ass and have everyone laugh at you. Either way, you knew they were supporting you.

You struck a blow on his side, forcing him to gather his balance. Your next attack was caught by the cloak that pushed you backwards. A shield flew in your direction, almost whacking you in the face; luckily you dodged it. Stephen initiated the hand-to-hand combat, throwing blows towards your face which you blocked and grabbed his arm, attempting to throw him over your head with magic. Unfortunately, he saw two steps ahead. He grabbed the back of your robes' belt and threw you over the top of his head, sending you towards the floor where the wind rushed out of your lungs, forcing you to wheeze.

Stephen stood triumphantly, raising his hands into the air. You focused for a moment and reached out, grabbing him with telekinesis before throwing him into the wall; the cheers from the sorcerers declined, soon forming into shock as a fire burned within you, threatening to kill.

Wong rushed over and stood between you two, pulling you back away from Stephen who got up from the ground, the cloak didn't bother to help him. Instead, it came over to you to check you out, hovering in front before returning to Stephen with a magical call.

"That's enough." Wong warned, "you two are dismissed."

Wasting no time, you collected your weapon before returning to the library. You felt you insides boil, your hands shook with anger. . . and anxiety. Why did you feel anxious? Was it humiliation? You did have it coming after all, right? You challenged the Stephen Strange.

Sitting down in the corner, you flicked a light on beside you that glowed a soft orange. The words on the pages translated to English, you couldn't be bothered translating any Sanskrit today. The book was one the Ancient One gave you, one that only you were allowed to read; coming from her private collection. It was filled with stories and advice for you, reassuring you on your journey; somehow she knew you were going to be quiet after her death; nobody in your life had ever come close to this.

You ended up reaching a small wall of text talking about regrets and enemies. Somehow very fitting for the current situation. Your eyes glance over the page as footsteps near you; a blanket of red covered the book in front of you. You looked up to see the cloak again in front of you, this time it pushed itself between the book and your lap and cuddled there, perking up as you lifted your hands in the air like a marionette.

"Hello there," you whispered. It pressed against you like a cat. If it was able to speak, it would definitely be purring right now.

The cloak was well known for acting like a puppy, only very few people were able to interact and touch it. Before it came to Stephen, it would hang out with you every once in a while -- even cuddling up to you during the night when you had nightmares. That made you think, why did it go to him? Why Stephen? Did it see something inside of him?

From the right, Stephen emerged, folding his arms across his chest. He leaned against the bookshelf.

"Why are you here?" You mumbled, watching him sigh.

"Clearly something is going on and you have something against me. What's wrong with you?" His voice rose to demanding, making you sink into the chair. "You attacked me earlier for no reason at all."

You didn't answer.

"Do you still blame me for what happened to the Ancient One?" He assumed, "you know that it was going to happen either way. She saw it was going to happen, why do you think she wrote that book?" Stephen pointed to the book that you yanked away from him protectively.

"You could've still saved her." You argued, tears were already forming in the corner of your eyes, he didn't notice.

"I could've saved her? Just because I'm a doctor, I can't save everybody. She might've meant something to you, but she meant a hell of a lot to other people." Stephen finally looked at you, "we all miss her. Kaecillius stabbed her and she was already halfway to her death before I could catch her. She would've died either way." He sat opposite you.

Why was he trying to be nice to you? Though you were there when The Ancient One died, you couldn't fully process what happened. The cloak moved next to you and begun patting your face, its fabric wiped away your tears, enough to make you swat it away.

"I'm sorry." You looked at him. "She meant. . . so much to me. My parents died when I was young and she was the only mother figure I had. She raised me." Stephen's face softened as you finally opened up, "I know she meant a lot to everyone, but she meant everything to me. I don't believe you're truly a bad person, but just an asshole."

A small smile creeped on Stephen's face as he chuckled, "you're not wrong there. I'm sorry if I've been an asshole. I heard you blamed me for the Ancient One's death and just assumed you hated me in general. You're powerful, you remind me of her." He spoke finally sitting beside you, pushing the cloak to the side which ended up curled onto your lap again, giving you most of the affection.

"Do you think we can maybe restart?" He held his hand out, "I rather not get off on the wrong foot again."

You paused for a moment before shaking his hand.

Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

#angst #Stephen Strange #reader #Strange #Stephen Strange x Reader #mention of the Ancient One #Wong #Stephen Strange is wondering why Reader won't talk to him #Dismissive reader #Wholesome at the end

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resolvebound · 9 months

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About Page | Tags

History:

As one of the Exceed eggs that was sent to Earthland in X778, he hatched alone in a large forest. It didn't take long for some manner of creature to come by and startle him into fleeing and hiding, sending him eventually to the edge of the forest where a small town was settled. The sounds, scents, and people were almost overwhelming to him, yet not enough to scare him back to the forest. He sought shelter in the quietest building he came across, the library. Here, he felt safe.

The librarian, an elderly and kind gentleman named Terrence, found him and coaxed him into coming forward. Terrence cared for him and named him Lector, after one of his favourite scholars. After a little while, it became apparent that Lector was no ordinary cat, that he could potentially talk and fly. Terrence was thrilled to teach him to read and write, encouraging a love of reading and learning. When Lector was a few years old, Terrence decided to enrol him at the local school to help him make friends and socialise.

Lector’s intelligence, and already substantial pool of knowledge, made him swiftly rise to the top of the class. He aced all the tests, and to the chagrin of one of the oldest boys in the class, was found to be adorable by the girls around. Lector’s life began to get difficult from that point. The boy disliked the attention Lector got, and was further incensed when Lector would at times correct him or point out something he was doing wrong. Lector was only trying to help, but it was not well received.

The boy and his friends took to making fun of Lector and pushing him around at any opportunity. One day, they made fun of his wings and how he never seemed to use them (Lector didn’t have very good control of them, they would burst out whenever he was startled or excited, sometimes even just when he sneezed!). The bullies taunted him and challenged him to prove himself by flying a dangerous course. Lector, hoping to earn his place and put an end to the bullying, attempted the course.

It did not go well. He crashed and they laughed at him, soon scattering as it became apparent that he was injured. Lector eventually made his way back home to the library. As he recovered, Terrance asked what had happened, but Lector refused to talk about it, feeling foolish. Terrance, though concerned, did not press the issue, and instead gave Lector collections of stories that he thought might inspire him, books about heroes and bravery.

Sometime after Lector recovered, Terrence fell ill and passed away, leaving Lector alone. The bullying continued and Lector took solace in the books and heroic stories left to him. He dreamed of becoming as strong and capable as the characters in his books. So, when he then began to hear of a new kid around that was strong with magic, he was of course interested. He soon found him, a blond boy, clearly skilled already. Intrigued but wary, Lector watched from a distance at first, soon witnessing the boy standing up to and scaring off the kids that had given Lector so much trouble himself. Lector gathered his courage and followed the boy, requesting to become his apprentice, hoping to learn how to be strong and brave. The two have been together ever since.

Personality:

Lector’s self-confidence grew alongside his friendship with Sting. With such steadfast belief in his best friend, he began to become rather arrogant, as seen in his first appearances throughout the GMG arc. Seeing the battle between the four dragon slayers during the games end in a draw (this follows my canon div for Rogue along with other RP partners divs for the same event), Lector was shaken. He had never seen Sting struggle or be so evenly matched, aside from with Rogue, but what truly stood out to Lector was the way Sting tried for his sake, to honour the promise made long ago. Following the battle and talking with Sting, Lector came to understand that it didn’t matter what the rest of the world thought about either of them, he still believed in Sting and they had each other, that was all that mattered. There was almost a relief to be had, and an acknowledgement that they could both still learn more and achieve more. He was proud of Sting (and Rogue too for that matter), and that was what pushed him to speak to Jiemma on their behalf (which, as we all know, did not go well…).

Later, having seen what Sting went through in the battle, and having faced the possibility of death himself (not to mention then seeing dragons invade the city), Lector reassessed himself and became a little more humble, stripping back some of the arrogance he had walled himself up with and showing more of his true self.

Lector is, at his core, incredibly loyal and well-meaning. He favours logical and practical approaches and can be relied on to have a sensible suggestions, but on the other hand, logic flies out the window when it comes to his friends. He protects and supports them with everything he has, even if it means putting himself in harms way or going against his better instincts. He is slow to warm up to most people, as he and Sting never tended to get too involved with other people over the years and he doesn’t trust easily, however once he deems someone worthy, he is all in. He likes to help others, and in fact sometimes can’t resist helping, which can at times be taken the wrong way. Since the X791 GMG, he has tried to become more open to others.

Misc:

He addresses most people with a title – Mrs, Ma’am, Miss, Mister etc, as he was raised to do so by Terrence as a matter of manners. He uses such titles with strangers, and with people he respects only. He did address Sting as “Mister Sting” for quite a while when they first met. (this is me side-stepping his use of honorifics in canon). Once he is close with someone (or they request it), he drops the title.

Terrence also taught him a lot about tactfulness in the hopes of curbing some of Lector’s troubles with people viewing him as a know-it-all. Lector tries to think before he speaks and usually does well with it.

Obviously, there are limits to his physical capabilities and his hopes of becoming as strong as Sting were short lived, however, he did his own type of training with Sting in order to become a skilled flier and was successful.

He loves strategy games like chess. He loves an intellectual challenge. He has always known that his biggest asset is his mind.

On the same note, he loves crossword puzzles and puzzles in general as they use the brain and he doesn’t have to be ‘strong’ to have fun with and be good at them.

He has excellent handwriting due to learning from Terrence.

He really enjoys drawing and has become very skilled at it. He initially took up the hobby, alongside writing, with the goal of recording Sting’s adventures and achievements in a book.

He loves cooking and food in general and is highly interested in recipes from different cultures and areas. He tends to (subconsciously) associate a person’s cooking skill with if they are a good person or not, as Terrence was a very good cook.

He most definitely has nightmares about Jiemma and about being alone.

He has a variety of different vests, but tends to wear the light blue one the most as blue is one of his favourite colours.

#portrayal notes tag #❰ ⧓ ― headcanon. lector. ❱#🥰

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mrcowboydeanwinchester · 5 months

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🔪 Revenge for Dummies 💋

jomeg fic - 10k - rating: T - high school AU - 2stab2fest - read on ao3

“You said it yourself that being lesbian has novelty value! So it is a popularity move!” Meg shrieks. With blood smeared across her face and eyes wild with the power of standing on a table in two inch heels, she looks demonic. She looks incredible, Jo thinks. She looks like royalty. “We are being QUEERBAITED."

Jo is the queen bee of Midwest High, all until Meg steals the throne by claiming Jo is queerbaiting the school. What follows is the epic tale of Jo’s homoerotic revenge mission. It’s about girlhood and popularity and lesbianism and being a batshit insane 16 year old—with a knife!

written for the brilliantly run 2stab2fest and accompanied by gorgeous art from @keikakudom !!

chapter 1 of 5 below cut!

High School 101

Though it might’ve come as a shock to her 10 year old self, at 16, Jo Harvelle’s life is one long chick-flick moment. We’re talking resident queen bee of Midwest High with a side-dish of blonde bombshell best served hot. She rules alongside her best friend and loyal confidant Claire Novak, and their passionate alliance is founded on the fact they met in the opening weeks of middle school, when Claire found Jo reading Beginner’s Book to Blade Wielding in the quietest corner of the library and asked if she could read it with her.

It therefore may come as a surprise to some that Jo and Claire have ascended the ranks of social status with such ease and grace. Stabby lesbians with dearly departed daddys don’t often tend to work the runways of high school popularity, after all, but the facts of the matter fall like this: Jo has always been an outcast, but now she gets to be distant in the way royalty is and not in the way lepers are. Like, untouchable, but make it chic.

The lesbian thing turns out to be pretty helpful too. Jo and Claire are known for their Biker Barbie lesbian swag, which, at Midwest High, provides the perfect intersection of gender. The boys are into their leather jackets, but Jo and Claire don’t want them back, and the girls crave their nonchalantly fashionable attitude, so Jo and Claire can bask in their heterosexually-awed stares. It’s a perfectly measured concoction of being the most beautiful girls in the whole school but not doing it for the guys. Jo and Claire simply aren’t like other girls, and so all the other girls want to be like them.

So animal skin, pop-punk listening habits, and blonde hair. Paired with the incomprehensible fact they are two sapphic best friends who aren’t in love with each other, the whole school is pliant under their sweet and unbothered thumbs. Claire even had the incredible idea to glue Biker Barbie in pink rhinestones to the backs of their matching leather jackets. They are an inseparable gang of two and they rule the school, stomping past lockers and lesser students in matching black leather jackets, ripped jeans, and gleaming Doc Martens.

And it’s a fucking difficult life.

That’s Jo, right there, the protagonist of our Riverdalian love story.

Yeah, hi, it’s me. And let me tell you, the pressures of being the lesbian leader of hundreds of high school aged monstrosities are pretty near infinite. Firstly, I’m 16. I’ve never even kissed a girl, and somehow being one of the first kids in my grade to come out means I’m some dykey messiah. It’s a pretty impressionable age to be seen as a sexuality first and a person second.

Secondly, everyone in this place is like, stinking rich. Yachts and lawyers and mansions abound and so nobody can ever know me and mom scrape by living above a literal bar. All the rich kids have aloof, only vaguely invested parents, so they can do what they want, but I’m cursed with a mom who loves me and so is ridiculously interested (read: controlling) in my life. It’s just a shame my dad makes up for this by not being interested enough, in that he is dead.

Finally, amid the other infinite reasons why maintaining my monarchal image is hellishly hard, I’m not obliviously iconic like Cher from Clueless. I’m not just some dumb box bleach blonde—I’m the girl who’s making ‘freak with the knife collection’ work for her. That’s a hard line to walk. It’s a fucking tightrope. And I’ve been walking it for years.

On the topic of walking, another of our story’s featured cast is now strutting into view. We’re alongside Jo and Claire in the cafeteria at lunch, gazing down on the masses of normies from the heights of the exclusive Royal Banqueting Table. Popularity is performance, and so the Royal Banqueting Table is the only one in the cafeteria on a raised bit of floor. It’s a stage, essentially; it’s like sitting in the royal box or the back of the bus.

And through the maze of tables, past the nerds and the basketball team and the theater kids—this is a high school, after all—Meg Masters and The Rubies are winding their way towards Jo and Claire. Jo’s hackles raise at the sight of them, and she points them out to Claire with a nudge and a roll of her eyes.

Meg Masters is just like the other girls. She wears tight dresses and little tops and buys all-natural avocado shampoo which has the word ‘organic’ on the bottle but which her daddy flies in from Hawaii. She is rich rich, with the kind of house so big her parents keep their sailing boat in the front garden. But with the hordes of hell hounds baying for blood at the grand entrance of the passcode protected gates, it’s not like anyone at Midwest High has ever gotten the chance to really see it.

Well, anyone at Midwest High apart from Jo.

Because Jo and Meg had been best friends once upon a time, back in kindergarten and elementary school, in that squishy age where time isn’t real but friends are. They had been everything to each other, vowing solemnly at sleepovers never to lose the friendship which was blossoming so pure between them.

It wasn’t pure, Meg dropped me the second she got the chance to. The instant we reached high school, the ties were cut.

Jo doesn’t remember exactly how their friendship ended, she just knows it hurt her more than anything else ever has.

Shut up, I remember it. Meg was a bitch. I guess some girls are just built different: she went out shopping with her flaky new rich friends, and me and Claire built a small empire.

It is perhaps pertinent to mention here that while Jo is a very self-aware lesbian, she hasn’t quite mastered the art of feminism yet. She is only 16, after all.

Meg has equipped herself with new friends since the disintegration of her friendship with Jo, and these new friends take the form of The Rubies. If Meg keeps hell hounds at home, The Rubies are the demonic little chihuahuas who cling to her heels at school. Ruby 1 and Ruby 2 are essentially indifferentiable apart from the fact that Ruby 1 is blonde, with mean little bangs, and Ruby 2 is a pissy brunette. Underneath the skin they are both the same: shallow, devilish girls who delight in igniting chaos and looking good while doing it. So while the words Meg and The Rubies sound like a spunky indie girl band, the reality is that they are beautiful, invulnerably rich teens who love nothing better than making everyone else’s life hell.

“Meg and The Rubies at 12 o’clock,” Claire announces to the table.

The royal court of Bela Talbot, Rowena MacLeod, and Billie (nobody knows their last name, in the same way nobody knows Adele’s or Madonna’s—you simply don’t need to) chorus a sympathetic sigh. They are staples of the Royal Banquet Table, being more loyal to the power of The Table than to the current monarchy itself, and so Jo and Claire tolerate them. Rowena’s basically a witch, and Bela’s English, and Jo is pretty sure Billie could strangle her with their bare hands and she’d say thank you, so. It’s not like they’re unattractive company.

Besides, there’s another member of the table Jo is more concerned with.

Dean Winchester leans over to Jo, and in a rarely captured example of sensible advice, says, “ignore them, Jo, they’re not worth your time.”

Dean Winchester is different to Bela, Rowena, and Billie. He makes Jo’s very lesbian brain come to an unwilling and baffling stop. She looks into his dewy green eyes and she hears white noise. He’s a senior, and he exclusively wears his dad’s too-big leather jacket because he thinks it makes him look cool (it kinda does) and Jo would die before admitting that sometimes it feels like no one else’s opinion of her in the whole world matters apart from his.

Hey, fuck off! My feelings about Dean Winchester are perfectly normal.

“Yeah, you too,” Jo replies to Dean. And conversation is a subjective artform, but that is not the correct response to Dean’s previous statement.

Dean smiles at Jo anyway, like she’s somehow fun to be around, and she’s glad that if being the Teen Queen of the school gets her anything, it’s this. Dean hangs out with them some days, when he feels like it. Mostly he hangs out in the school’s garage working on cars, and more recently he’s been spending time in the gardens with the new transfer student Clarence.

My gaydar senses something is up there, by the way.

Jo is at least right about that.

Noice.

But as much as Jo tries to take Dean’s surprisingly sensible advice to ignore Meg and The Rubies, this is proves a lot more difficult than expected when Meg stalks over to the Royal Banqueting Table, steps up on the bench and onto the table itself, and lands the heels of her two inch stilettos right into the bread of Jo’s sandwich.

Jo peers up past the ankle—plump and solid—up the shin—shaved smooth and speckled strawberry—to the thigh—soft and fleshy—and then almost but not quite up her teeny tiny silky skirt.

“The fuck are you doing? Get your weirdly impractical shoes out of my sandwich stat, Masters,” Jo growls.

“Sorry, Josephine, no can do,” Meg says, her dainty lips curling maliciously around her words.

“You know that’s not my name.”

“Oh, is it not? That fact must have walked out of my brain the day you walked out of my life.”

Jo scoffs. “The day I walked out on you?”

“Okay, Meg, get off the table and stop making a scene,” Dean cuts in, trying to stench the flow of petty words before the drama dam bursts. He is unsuccessful.

Meg smiles. “Sorry, Deano. I have an announcement to make, and this table is my stage.” Her voice is rich as honey but dangerous as dart frog venom.

It is then that Jo sees the Gucci megaphone clutched in Meg’s perfectly manicured hands.

This is so not groovy.

“Hear ye, hear ye,” she begins before Claire can swipe the megaphone out of her hands and Dean can try and defuse the situation further. The Rubies are now standing either side of the Royal Banqueting Table like femme-fatale bouncers, effectively immobilizing the royal court.

The whole cafeteria falls obediently silent. Somewhere among the fringe groups, a phone buzzes, and is quickly stifled.

“I know we’re all obsessed with Jo and Claire, our Biker Barbies. They’re the reigning queens of our little high school, right? And what do we love them for? Their cutesy little rhinestone jackets, their perfectly blonde hair? Their lesbian swag?”

Jo and Claire exchange perturbed looks. Around the cafeteria, students are nodding affirmatively; if this is Meg trying to start a Les Mis style anti-monarchy rebellion, she’s gonna have to go a little more opera.

“But what if I told you that having matching Hobby-Lobby jackets isn’t the flex you think it is? What if I told you that they bleach their hair to make it that color?”

An uneasy muttering sweeps across the hall, and Jo suddenly realizes: Meg is working up to something.

What if she tells them about how I live above a creepy bar? What if she tells them about the dusty-ass van mom drives me halfway to school in? What if she tells them about how invested my mother is in my life and wellbeing and how weird it is that there’s only a twenty year age gap between us and that sometimes I feel more like I’m living in a documentary about troubled young women rather than a chick-flick movie?

“What if I told you that little Joey here isn’t a real lesbian?”

Jo almost spits out her water, the laugh comes out of her so hard. “What? Come on, jello-head, I’ve been averting my eyes from lingerie stores since I came out the womb.”

“Is that so, Harvelle?” Meg sings, and her eyes flash obsidian. “Because I have it on good authority that you, self-proclaimed cowgirl and lover of posse, have a crush on Dean Winchester.”

Suddenly everything about the situation is a lot less funny. The room erupts riotously, screeches of jeers and laughter echoing across the hall. Jo feels the blood rush to her face hard and fast, much like how she imagines an erection might feel if it was brought on by intense shame. Next to her, Dean’s minty eyes are wide and staring. She flinches away from him like his touch might corrupt her all-important lesbianism.

“No, I don’t!” Jo cries. Her voice goes unheard over the chaos of the hall.

“Awh,” Meg sighs, pouting down patronizingly at where Jo is now shaking with rage in her seat, “that’s exactly what someone with a massive crush on Dean Winchester would say.”

“You can’t just say she’s not a lesbian, only she can say that!” Claire screams indignantly. She scrambles up beside Meg before The Rubies can pull her down and wrestles the megaphone from her hands, giving her a solid elbow to the nose as she does so. Meg’s head ricochets back and her nose bursts, bloody in her hands.

“Shut up!” Claire bellows into the megaphone. Her cry rebounds across the far wall of the cafeteria at such a volume several kids covered their ears, and the hall falls sheepishly silent a second time. A few whispers snake across the air, though, and Jo feels her kingdom slip a little further from her grasp. “Use your brains, boneheads. As if Jo would lie about being a lesbian. Where’s the fun in that? This butt-crazy bitch just wants what we have and you can’t let her lap it up.”

“You can’t call me a bitch, that’s misogynistic!”

“You can’t call Jo straight, that’s homophobic!”

Oh, fuck. As much as I like to channel Taylor Swift, I don’t think I can come back from the Q word like she can.

And so that is the day that Jo and Claire lose the Teen Queen crown; that is the day the Biker Barbies’ heads feel the cold sharp cut of the guillotine. Meg and The Rubies are the new reigning monarchs of Midwest High.

#seeing as ao3 is down right now here is the first chapter to tide you all over !!#add this to your festive season reading list it is very silly and fun i promise <3 #jomeg #jo harvelle #meg masters #sapphicnatural #spn fic #ola writes

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 2 years

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Marmien: First Kiss

When I wrote Let Us Have Tonight, I referred to their first kiss when they were teenagers. It’s been in my head for ages, and I finally sat down to write it during a three-hour car journey after a trip away.

Reminder: This is an AU where Mark chose Damien instead of Celine.

Word Count: 1,592

Mark had been busy all morning helping his parents prepare for the after-party of an opera that was finishing its season. As the main patrons, it was their way of acknowledging all the hard work the cast and crew had put in. Mark never minded them. When he was a kid, he and his three friends would be thrown out into the garden and left to their own devices. It was the best evening of spring.

But they were growing up. They were seventeen years old, and things wouldn't be the same forever. William was training in the barracks, Celine was bedridden with a nasty dose of the flu, and Damien was attending university in another state. It would be a lonely, quiet evening, but it would be fine! No one expected a teenager to socialise amongst adults at these things anyway. All he would need to do was show his face, chat a little, then retire to his room.

When the preparations were complete, he dressed up neatly to accompany his parents. They were sharing knowing looks that infuriated the teenager… Until they arrived at the concert hall to see Damien and his parents waiting for them in the foyer.

Immediately, Mark charged over and pulled his friend into a tight hug. They hadn't seen each other in months, and letters just weren't the same as being able to make your way to another house and knock on the door. With Damien hugging him back, Mark didn't even realise how badly he had missed the other teenager. He nearly didn't want to let go.

Instead, they were allowed to sit together for the opera after catching up and discovering that Damien had been planning this trip home for weeks and wanted to surprise Mark. The opera was one Mark had been interested in: a young man was deeply in love with a woman. The love was reciprocated, but he had to complete a series of extravagant tasks set out by her parents. The man's stubbornness would see him through every time and help him succeed.

His mind wandered while the ballet dancers graced the stage. If he loved someone, he would be like the hero of this tale and jump through all the hoops to earn it! He knew strict parents like that too. They were so stubborn on love that they would never let Mark date Damien -

Oh.

He glanced at Damien in alarm, afraid that somehow the other teen had read his mind. When he realised this wasn’t the case, Mark relaxed; but knew that this discovery would not let him fully enjoy the opera without his thoughts coming back to this vital point:

He was in love with Damien.

Charming, adorable, wonderful Damien! But he was always so popular with the girls when they were in school. Everyone agreed Damien was going to grow up into a handsome man, ever since they were children. Even Mark! His face burned as he willed the chair to eat him alive when he remembered how he didn't think twice about giving Damien a red rose when they were six years old. Had he really harboured these feelings for that long??

He forced the realisation back to try and enjoy the show and return home to help his parents greet their guests without drawing unneeded attention to himself. The moment his duty was fulfilled, he and Damien quickly escaped to the library, where they could hang out without interruption. Damien was in high spirits as he excitedly talked about the opera. He had always been fond of tales of romance, but the group had agreed to never make fun of him for it. It was refreshing to see Damien so passionate about topics that he would talk at length about. He was always the quietest of the group. Seeing him come out of his shell was something that never failed to take Mark’s breath away. Would it be weird to let him keep talking so he could admire how pretty Damien was?

"- makes me feel like love could solve anything, you know?" Mark blinked back to awareness when Damien looked expectantly at him. Fortunate that he had heard just enough to follow the conversation, he nodded.

"Yeah. Like, imagine what it'll be like when we're older." Mark forced himself to not think of the here and now, but instead on the way there was a hint of sadness in Damien's smile.

"I only hope I'll understand it. Being away from home made me realise how love is lacking in my family. Or worse, that I might be like them when I’m older."

"Hey, don't start that." Mark reached over and placed a hand over one of Damien's, only to pull it back abruptly when his mind caught up to his actions. "What I mean is, uh, you're nothing like your parents. You can definitely feel love. I mean… You care! You care about everyone! You want to reach out and do what you can for them. You want to make people feel like they're heard and valued. Love is…. It's a feeling. Like…” Mark gestured loosely to his chest as he tried to will the words to help him explain it, “Something flutters in your chest, or there's a warmth that makes you want to hold onto something and not let go. It makes you want to take up arms and fight all the evil in the world!"

Damien giggled as Mark dramatically mimed brandishing a sword. "It sounds like you are in love already." Missing how Mark sputtered mid-mime, Damien rose from the chair he had claimed to walk toward one of the shelves. One book was slowly pulled out, only to be returned to its place. "I hope it will be something like what happens in a story. Something simple, yet the whole world turns on its head. I know my parents would want to arrange a marriage if I express any interest in having a family. I don't want that. I want to make a choice for myself. I want a relationship that's true and will stay strong, no matter what." While Damien spoke, Mark stood up and followed after. When he was close enough, Damien turned around. "I want a happy ending where I can find someone and know that it's who I want to spend the rest of my life with. One that my parents can't take away from me… Someone that I can trust my life with."

At that moment, Mark swore Damien was saying those words to him. They had maintained eye contact since Damien faced him. Suddenly, Mark didn't care whether this would lose him a friendship.

"Damien…" Once more, Mark reached out a hand, only to pause. He could feel his lips going dry. It was ignored in favour of speaking. "You are right. I am in love. I've never been in love before, but I'm sure this is it… And I - I think you are the beautifulest person I've ever met."

The university student was silent for a few seconds. Then, as his cheeks began to darken, Damien let out that familiar giggle that made Mark's heart do a backflip.

"The 'most beautiful’?"

"T-that's what I said! Is there something wrong?"

"You said 'beautifulest'."

"That's the same thing!" Mark sputtered, feeling his ears burning with embarrassment.

"Do you mean it? You're not saying it to make me feel better, are you?" It was there. A plea in the voice. ‘Be honest. Please do not be lying’. Did Damien feel the same?

"Why would I lie? Damien, I lo- I love you. And I know I'm probably not the Prince to sweep you off your feet. I-I think your dad still hates me, actually," he nervously admitted as he scratched the back of his neck, "but I would do anything for you."

"I…" Finally, nerves kicked in as Damien's eyes briefly darted to the side. His voice was barely a whisper when he willed himself to respond. "I want to be with you. It can't be anyone else."

Any second, Mark would wake up. He was so sure of it. This was too good to be true. But instead, he felt Damien's soft hand slip into his and squeeze it.

"Can I kiss you?" The request was blurted out before Mark realised it was not the best way to approach this. When Damien gave permission, he let Mark approach until he felt his back lightly bump against the shelf. Both teenagers weren't sure how a moment like this should be handled. Mark placed a hand on the student's cheek, and Damien was quick to cover it to urge Mark to not back down. Then, slowly, Mark leaned forward until their lips pressed together. It was tentative, yet sweet. Neither made an effort to push for anything further, instead relishing a moment they had desired for longer than either would care to admit. So much was this closeness needed, they rested their foreheads together when they broke apart for air and whispered confessions of love with only books as witnesses.

Tomorrow, they would talk about the reality of chasing this relationship. How Damien's parents would be quick to stamp it out in favour of one they chose, or how this would work once Damien returned to university.

But for tonight, they could stay in the embrace of the other and promise to be true. It was the first time either felt like the final piece of the jigsaw of their hearts had been found.

#marmien #actor mark #mayor damien #(both are teenagers)#(read-more is for tidiness! :D )#writersofmark #(how many times did I proof-read? Not enough; probably)

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moregraceful · 1 year

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15 questions, 15 people

ty for the tag @18minutemajor 🐔!!

nickname: kasper, kas

sign: sagittarius

height: 5 ft 2. good for huggin'

last thing i googled: "sap center seating chart" because i received free tickets to a sharks-sabres game for my agonies but had no idea where section 106 was. behind the away goalie's net!

song stuck in my head: "survivin'" by bastille. i named my birthday playlist after the chorus of that song and it's been stuck in my head for two weeks

amount of sleep: 9 if i want to be functional, however last night my dog burrito-rolled all the blankets off me somehow, so it was like, 7 bc i was freezing

dream job: i'm kind of between careers atm so THE SKY'S THE LIMIT however, in my quietest dreams i do spiritual care for queer people in hospice. this would not pay me enough to live in the bay area. also been thinking about looking at religious libraries

wearing: sea green t-shirt, black jeans, socks with unicorns on them

movies/books that summarize you: lmao oh no. i'm slowly hatereading king of infinite space rn, a hamlet retelling whose contents mirror the exact kind of stupid shit i write in fanfic (ophelia works in a flower shop with the macbeth witches and puck goodfellow hit on horatio in an airplane. i hate this book so much) while also revealing something very important about me which is that while i generally try not to be a completest about annoying books, give me a book that is so unhinged and stupid and i will be compelled to keep reading

favorite song: "wolves and the water" by edward r.

instrument: played violin for a couple years, hated it, used to play guitar in high school, loved it, mostly just play ukulele these days bc it's portable and fits my hands easily

aesthetic: in the winter i'm living that flannel and a puffy vest life babey! but usually just jeans and a blank t-shirt or shorts that used to be jeans and a sports shirsey if i'm not at work. the occasional floral hawaiian shirt too in the summer

favorite author: god i got so burnt by sherman alexie that i have not been able to open my heart to the concept of having a favorite author again. also no one has really consistently grabbed my heart consistently work after work like alexie. so now i'm just like well now what. lol

random fun fact: i counted recently and i own 36 copies of to kill a mockingbird in 6 languages. it's actually making me so frustrated bc i could have sworn i owned 37 copies in 7 languages but i cannot find my german copy. did i just make up buying a german copy of tkam? like i can picture the cover and everything! but i used to spend so much time scouring used book sites and international publishers for international copies of tkam, so it's very possible i know what it looks like and, in the height of my collecting period, bought so many copies that i just forgot what i bought

tagging: anyone who wants to!!! would love to read answers

#cool stories with kasper

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moonlatias · 1 year

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Chia, Jasmine, Nutmeg for the "get to know me" ask game!

chia ⇢ what’s an inside joke you have with someone else?

Hm, what's an inside joke that wouldn't be too difficult to explain... lol.

Sometimes when we answer the phone with each other, my husband and I answer it thusly: "Moshi moshi? KAA-BI DESU"

Inspired by this dialogue from a Kirby radio CD (this animation is the best too): https://youtu.be/jSD3vrR2HxI

Naturally this only works when we're NOT answering the phone in a populated area. Well, at least not if we don't want a lot of strange looks...

We... reference stuff a lot. xD

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

To be honest, I rarely watch movies over and over anyway... you're lucky you can get me to sit down long enough for one. My attention span is... fickle.

But! I guess I would say Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame. Specifically because I was sooooo excited to see these movies and really loved being there in theaters experiencing it for the first time. I am, indeed, a MCU fangirl (though only for phase 1--I have no real plans to continue keeping up with it going forward), and the MCU movies genuinely are what sparked my interest and liking of superheroes. Prior to that, I was extremely lukewarm on superheroes and really didn't care for the genre at all.

And while I think the last two Avengers movies were incredibly meaningful experiences to me, and I truly enjoyed them and how they wrapped up the main story (more or less), I would never watch them again because it wouldn't have the same impact. If I were to watch them again I'd just be nitpicking all the dumb plot details, thus ruining my happy memories of them. ^^;

I can reflect on that period happily, because I did genuinely have a lot of fun memories sharing the movies with my husband and my family. I don't think the MCU can be the same for me going forward (I'm not super big on multiverse stuff, especially with THAT many characters and worlds), but it still has a fond place in my heart. :)

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

I don't really feel like I do, but I think I try, at least? When I was growing up, my family never really... decorated the house all that much. My mom made efforts to, but because we were a military family, we never stayed in one place for more than 3-4 years at a time, and we weren't allowed to damage or alter things too drastically in our rentals/base housing, so... decorating was kind of temporary and minimal? So I never had a great sense of decorating, and the idea of even hammering a nail in a wall is shocking to me.

Ever since we bought our own house, though, we've been making efforts! Our whole downstairs is mostly modernist style, with various quirky pictures on the walls (so far we have a coffee picture, a giant framed picture of a chicken with a bowler hat signed by Alton Brown, and a portrait of a ghost painted by my brother-in-law).

The library has more darker colors in the furniture, and eventually I want to slap more stuff on the wall to make it feel closer to that scholarly, library type setting. (Not TOO stiff and formal, though... I do like to relax in there; it's the quietest room in the house!)

The computer lab is full of gamer/nerdy stuff. It's also sort of a mess. Eventually I want to put decals on the wall behind my computer to spice things up.

Our bedroom is... kinda trying to be boudoir in theme, though I'm not sure if the furniture quite matches that vibe. I guess the color helps me pretend it's more antique, and all the other decor in the room helps lend itself to that, lol. xD My altar lends itself to the decor somehow, and I do end up feeling more witchy whenever I do stuff there. Somehow.

I guess it was pretty magical, the way we crammed the bed from IKEA into my tiny hatchback and managed to get it home...

...

Haha, I guess I ended up rambling a lot, but... thank you for the ask! It was a lot of fun! ^^

#my asks #personal

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starrynight0612 · 2 years

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I love Libby. I've managed to read so much this year checking out e-books from my library. But there are moments that I miss that I can't replicate virtually.

The casual browsing of the shelves. The spot in the library that I claimed for my own by the window with a charging port nearby. The random wonder when I find a book misplaced on a shelf and question if someone's trying to hide it or if it's been shelved incorrectly. Browsing through the book to see how small the font is. Looking through the art in a children's book for the fun of it. Trying to find spots on the shelves to stack the books I'm going to check out. The smell of a book that no one's touched in decades. The timid smile when you make eye contact with someone in the same section as you. The sore knees from inspecting each book on the lowest shelf one by one. Reading through multiple zines or other stuff you're not in the mood to take to your home but still want to read. Finding the quietest part of the library. The wave of nostalgia that hits you as you see someone pick up a book that you've read and wish you could read for the first time again. But there's no jealousy in your thoughts, just well wishes and hopes that the book means as much to them as it did to you. Finding little notes in books that the previous reader left behind or their bookmarks. The smile of librarians who work so hard and don't let on that they're nervous about funding. The special selections where librarians show you a little of them and you make sure to check out because librarians have good taste. I miss the library.

#I am traveling a lot lately so me getting to go to my library is often rare now #library #booklbr #tumblarians #libby #ebooks

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itsthemysterykids · 2 years

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MORE MORE MORE MORE >:)

Raz: I'll bet you a million dollars that you haven’t! Let's end the suspense!

Coraline: Why don't you just shut up?

Raz: Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth? Have you ever been frenched? On your bed, wondering when you should come up for air, hoping to God your parents don't walk in?

Coraline: Do you want me to puke?

Neil: Leave her alone!

Raz: You gonna make me?

Neil: Yeah...

Raz: You and how many of your friends?

Neil: Just me, just you and me. Two hits. Me hitting you, you hitting the floor! Anytime you're ready!

*Raz goes to hit him, but Neil gets Raz down on the ground with a wrestling move*

Raz: I don't wanna get into this with you man...

Neil: *Helps him back up* Why not?

Raz: 'Cause I'd kill you...It's real simple. I'd kill you and your fucking parents would sue me and it would be a big mess and I don't care enough about you to bother.

Neil: Shit...

*Raz takes out aswitchblade and opens it. He stabs the switchblade into a chair*

Neil: Let's end this right now. *Wybie takes the switchblade while nobody is looking* You don't talk to her...you don't look at her and you don't even think about her! You understand me?

Raz: I'm trying to help her!

*The janitor, Henry come into the room*

Henry: Dipper, how you doing?

Raz: Your dad works here? *Dipper blushes* Uh, Henry?

Henry: What?

Raz: Can I ask you a question?

Henry: Sure...

Raz: How does one become a janitor?

Henry: You wanna be a janitor?

Raz: No I just wanna know how one becomes a janitor because Neil here, is very interested in pursuing a career in the custodial arts...

Henry: Oh, really? You guys think I'm just some untouchable peasant? Peon? Huh? Maybe so, but following a broom around after shitheads like you for the past eight years I've learned a couple of things...I look through your letters, I look through your lockers...I listen to your conversations, you don't know that but I do...I am the eyes and ears of this institution my friends. By the way, that clock's twenty minutes fast!

*Everyone groans. Raz smiles*

Neil: Shit!

CIPHER'S OFFICE

*The clock says 11:30. Mr. Cipher gets up and leaves*

LIBRARY

*Raz starts to whistle Colonel Bogey and everybody joins in until Mr. Cipher enters. Raz begins to whistle Beethoven's 5th*

Cipher: Alright, demons, that's thirty minutes for lunch...

Neil: Here?

Cipher: Here...

Neil: Well I think the cafeteria would be a more suitable place for us to eat lunch in, sir!

Cipher: Well, I don't care what you think, Neil!

Raz: Uh, Bill? Excuse me, will milk be made available to us?

Neil: We're extremely thirsty sir...

Lili: I have a very low tolerance for dehydration.

Raz: I've seen her dehydrated sir, it's pretty gross. *He stands* Relax, I'll get it!

Cipher: Ah, ah, ah grab some wood there, bub! *Raz sits back down* What do you think I was born yesterday? You think I'm gonna have you roaming these halls? *He points at Norman* You! *Points at Wybie who’s asleep* Hey! Lovat! Wake him! Wake up! Come on, on your feet mister! Let's go! This is no rest home!

*Wybie gets up*

Cipher: There's a soft drink machine in the teacher's lounge. Lets go!

HALLWAY

*Norman and Wybie are walking. It’s nothing but awkward silence between the two quietest students in detention, but eventually, Norman strikes up a conversation*

Norman: So, why are you here?

*Wybie doesn't answer*

Norman: What did you do?

*Wybie still doesn't answer*

Norman: Okay...forget I asked...

Wybie: … I got caught… Smoking in the school basement...

Norman: That's why you're here today?

*Wybie doesn't answer*

Norman: … Why are you here?

Wybie: Why are you here?

*They stop walking and Norman leans against the wall*

Norman: Um, I'm here today...because uh, because my teacher and my dad have the same mentality. My teacher sees me only as a freak of nature and tells my dad if I do anything “abnormal.” Then when I get home, my dad acts like my dad, I become even more “abnormal,” and the cycle continues.

Wybie: Yeah? That's very interesting. Now why don't you tell me why you're really here.

Norman: Forget it.

LIBRARY

*Coraline, Neil, Dipper, Mabel, Lili, and Raz are all sitting around waiting for the Cokes*

Raz: So... You guys wanna see a picture of a guy with herpes all on his lips? It's pretty nasty...

Dipper: No thank you.

Mabel: Not really.

Raz: How do you think he eats?

Mabel: … How does he eat?

Raz: Oh, Blue hair...would you ever consider dating a guy like that?

Neil: Do you ever stop?

Raz: I mean if he had a great personality and was a good dancer and had a cool car...Although you'd probably have to kiss with a piece of paper between your lips.

Coraline: You know what I wish I was doing?

Raz: Oh, watch what you say. See, Dipper here-

Dipper: Hey! I’ve kissed plenty of girls!

Raz: Name one!

Dipper: She lives out of town, you wouldn’t know her.

Raz: Ever kiss anyone around here?

*Dipper shushes him and points at Coraline whose back is still turned*

Raz: Oh, you and Coraline made out!

*Coraline turns around*

Coraline: What are you talking about?

Dipper: Nothin', nothin! *to Raz* Let's just drop it, we'll talk about it later!

Coraline: No! Drop what, what're you talking about?

Raz: Well, Dipper’s trying to tell me that in addition to the number of girls out of town, that presently you and he have locked lips.

Coraline: *Glares at Dipper* You little asshole!

Mabel: Hey! No he’s not!

Dipper: I'm not! Raz was about to say something about me, I said I kissed girls, that's it, that's all that was said!

Raz: Well then what were you motioning to Coraline for?

Coraline: You know I don't appreciate this very much, Pines.

Dipper: He is lying!

Raz: Oh you weren't motioning to Coraline?

Lili: He totally was.

Raz: Thank you, now were you or were you not motioning to Coraline?

Dipper: Yeah, but it was only...was only because I didn't want her to know that I never kissed anyone, okay? *Everyone just stares at him* Excuse me for being a kissing virgin, I'm sorry...

*Lili laughs*

Coraline: Why didn't you want me to know you were a kissing virgin?

Dipper: Because it's personal business, it's my personal, private business.

Neil: Well dude, it doesn't sound like you're doing any business...

Lili: … I think it's okay that you haven’t kissed anyone...

*Raz looks surprised*

Dipper: You do? *Lili smiles and nods*

Previous / Next

#coraline #mystery kids #paranorman #gravity falls #psychonauts #the mystery kids #ask stuff #answered ask #the mystery club

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traavels · 11 months

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I associate you with creeping out from a party in a grand mansion to the moonlit gardens, books of ancient myths that haven’t been opened for years in old libraries, the quietest person you know who always has the most interesting things to say

#ol

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robynlilyblack · 2 years

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The heart wants what it wants

Sirius Black x fem! reader

[Requested – see request here]

Summary: Sirius comes and goes from your life like clockwork, lighting up your wold with his presence and leaving you in the cold when he’s gone

Warnings: romantic moments, kissing, angst, swearing, breakup, slight insecure/depressed reader and Sirius, misunderstandings, mentions of sex

A/n: 4.6k words, no house specified but the reader is in the year below Sirius, I haven’t ever written anything based off of a song before and I’m not sure how good I am at big boy angst because I can’t judge it when I write but I hope I did okay x I’m sorry this took so long I’ve been so busy with uni x

Navigation | Sirius Black Masterlist

Your friends warned you not to get involved when he approached you but did you listen? Nope, never, because the heart wants what it wants and your heart would always be tied to Sirius Orion Black

You were in your 6th year and he his 7th when he first approached you. You had been sitting in the library with your friends who had since abandoned their studies and wandered off to procrastinated as they ‘looked’ for a book

“Can I sit here?” he gestures to the empty table with three unoccupied seats

You just nod, of course you knew him, everyone did, but you never thought he’d take interest in little old you. He didn’t take one of the two seats across from you like you expected which meant you let out a little hiccup of a gasp when he plopped himself on the seat next to you purposefully on the closer side so your shoulders would brush

After a few moments of Sirius pretending to work, and you doing the same while having a mini panic attack, he speaks “You’re adorable” he smiles to himself not looking at you but you’re sure he can feel your eyes blowing wide

“Thank you” you squeak out in the quietest voice he had probably ever heard which only made him smile more

“You’re welcome darling” he finally looks at you adoring your flustered state, his eyes trailed over you drinking you up while his face wore a small endearing smile “What’s your name?” he asks

“Y/n” you answer timidly

“Pretty” he notes before turning back to actually do work, leaving you slightly dazed but with a warm feeling spreading across your chest

Over the next months these little interactions became normal to you, he would show up lightly flirt and then he would go back about his business. With conversation he would do something similar, ask you something getting to know a bit about you, make you flustered, although he didn’t have to try very hard with that, and compliment you. Sometimes it was in the library like the first time, others it was while you were walking to class and he passed by, and once he walked around with you in Honeydukes when you both so happened to be in there at the same time.

He always showed up when it was just you on your own, he never pestered you either, if you were reading he would just let you do it and sit with you, same when you were studying. Your friends knew all about it, warning you that he was just going to use you like every other girl before you, that he was just taking his time because you were shier, or the worst one was he liked the feeling of playing with you for fun when he was bored.

Of course, all of those comments went in one ear and out the other, not because you didn’t know better but because you felt like he was genuine, surely if he just wanted to use you he would have asked you out the first time? You did see him flirt with other girls for the first little bit and it hurt, but as he moved onto another girl and forgot about the last one he always returned to you.

Maybe you were kidding yourself, thinking you were special, different, but there was just the feeling when he was with you, he lit up your world and always left you with a smile plastered on your face for the rest of the day

One day he came across you by Black lake reading, you had gotten used to his sudden appearances although sometimes you felt like he could sense where you were at any given moment. He sat down gently next to you, not saying anything as he looked out over the water, casually leaning back on his arms legs stretched out

You finished the page you were on and slid in your bookmark before placing the book down, bringing your knees up and wrapping your arms around them as you started to stare out at the water as well. You shivered slightly with the little breeze, he seemed to notice sitting forward, copying you with his legs and wrapped his arm around your shoulder loosely, almost like he was judging your reaction.

His grip tightened as you shifted closer “Better?” he asks looking at you

You hum in agreement knowing if you speak it’ll probably be all high pitched, you do however let out a little sound as you feel Sirius lean over and press his lips against the side of your head. He stays there for a second before returning to look back at the water

“Probably rather late to ask this…” he chuckles slightly “…but are you single?”

Your eyes shoot up to look at him, before widening as you realise your proximity “Yes” you whisper nodding your head slightly

Sirius’ lips tug up as his eyes trail over your face, lingering on your lips before he moves a little closer, letting your noses brush “Can I kiss you?”

You don’t say anything, too shocked to process to which a flash of disappointment appears across his face before he begins to move away. You snap out of your shock and half launch yourself forward for a quick peck, before burying your head in your hands embarrassed. You feel him chuckle next to you before his hands pull yours away from your face and he greets you with a warm smile before he leans in to kiss you properly

After that day by the lake it was back to regularly scheduled programming, accept when he approached you he’d always kiss you in some way. Usually on the cheek, forehead or nose, the lips when you were alone or it was quiet and once the neck in the library to which he walked off smirking after he heard the little moan that left your lips followed by your most flustered expression yet. You loved the next norm, the kisses lifted you up like you were floating on air but the cold periods where worse now, leaving you feeling empty until he returned.

Near the end of the year your heart started to ache that you might never see him again, you confessed this to your friends who all told you that was a good thing. Expressing that it’s good you haven’t gone further than kissing with him because that’s the only reason he still comes back, asking you if he had told you whether you were exclusive or not, or if you’re aware he might be still off kissing other girls since he flirts with everyone. You couldn’t answer, you didn’t ask if you were anything more to him that an occasional kiss, you felt like you didn’t need to like both of you just knew and were on the same page. Of course, they voiced how naïve it all was but you were in love, your heart didn’t care to listen to reason

A couple of days before the end of term, Sirius found you once more outside reading but in an empty courtyard as most of the students were crowded around your usual spot by the lake

“Hi” he greets as he settles himself next to you, arm lazily around your shoulder as he plants a kiss to the side of your head

“Hi” you lean into him placing down you book next to you

Sirius nuzzles his nose into the side of yours before leaning his forehead against you, taking a deep breath “I’m going to miss our little meetings” he confesses before pulling back

“Me too” you admit turning to look at him, heart dropping with knowledge this could be the last time

He brushes some hair from your face “Pretty girl” he compliments

“What happens now?” you ask being brave and asking a question about you and him for the first time

“What do you mean?” he looks at you confused “I graduate and become…well I haven’t worked that out yet but that’s part of the fun it’s it” he laughs, his laugh always made you smile but the way he was puzzled made you realise maybe this wasn’t the same to him as it was to you

“I still have another year to figure that out” you say sadly whilst hoping for him to say something, anything about yours and his future

“With the amount you study you could be anything darling” he kisses your nose, making your lips tug up again

“Pads! Come on” you look over to see James ushering him with Remus and Peter just behind him

“Duty calls, Minnie and Dumbledore won’t prank themselves” he chuckles turning back to you

“So, is this it?” you ask looking up at him with a worried expression but he doesn’t seem to notice

“Yeah, of course it is?” he says with a laugh again puzzled before leaning in to give you a lingering kiss to the lips before another to your nose whispering a quick ‘see ya’ as he runs off

Your mouth dropped as your heart began to shatter, eyes welling with tears as his figure receded. As the tears began to fall you pulled your legs to your chest and let your head fall into them. Was that really the end? Where was the contract you signed that stated this was just until the end of the year, he was so surprised, like he had no idea that he just took your heart with him as he left you alone in the cold.

You didn’t see him at all the last days, just at meals but you couldn’t look at him without fear of crying in the middle of the great hall. On the train ride home, you rushed off the train first, hoping to spot him when he got off the train, standing right under one of the clocks in clear view. One of your friends noticed you, sensing the imminent heartbreak you were setting yourself up for, soon practically everyone was off the train and you burst out in tears.

They comforted you as your body left the station while your heart stayed their waiting for him. Your heart didn’t want to believe it was truely over despite the pain in your chest which had spread across your whole body into your hands.

Sirius noticed you around the end of his 6th year and your 5th, you were just sitting in an empty courtyard reading yourself, content in your own little world. He was waiting for James at the time so he just leaned on the wall nearby and observed you. The way your lips tugged up and giggled or when your mouth parted in surprise, completely enraptured and invested in whatever it was you were reading. After that he started to see you every so often until the end of that year. Over the summer he felt the urge to talk you, ask you questions and get to know you, figure out why you were so interesting.

He had flings with shy bookworms before because he loved his effect on them, but why were you making him feel nervous to approach you? To start he didn’t want to invade your space but as he watched you from afar he noticed the little flash of sadness when your friends changed the conversation back to them or left you by yourself while they ran off doing other things. Eventually he saw you in the library yourself and decided to take a chance. As he sat next to you, there was something oddly fulfilling about the comfortable silence between you as you just enjoyed each other’s company.

He still flirted around, kissed other girls and continued his usual pursuits for a while, but he always gravitated back to you and soon realised no one made him feel so seen without having to utter a word. At Black lake he took his chance to take things further, test the waters, he saw you as more than a friend or fling, but did you? When you kissed him he felt his heart soar, and it continued to do so with every following kiss.

The day he kissed you he never went further than his natural flirting with anyone else, you never spoke about what you were or put the label, hell he never knew your last name but he felt like there was a mutual understanding. He felt alive when you were with him and when you were apart he couldn’t wait until the next one, being in different years and social circles made it hard for him to see you as often as he wanted but he would always come back, always.

As the year headed towards it’s close, his heart ached that he might not get to see you for a whole year until you graduated as well. He aimed to get your address to write to you and give you his and James’ when they got one, but thanks to their final prank he and the rest of the marauders ended up in all day detention all day for the final two days. He then decided to catch you when you got off the train but time just wasn’t on his side.

“Pads” James calls out “What are you looking for?” he looks at him confused as Peter and Remus exit the train, the latter checking the formers head as he groans in pain clutching his head

Sirius looks around trying to spot you before sighing as he turns back annoyed “I swear I’m going to kill you, all of you” he points between them all

“What did I do?” James shrugs puzzled

“Knowing you it could be anything but me and Wormtail haven’t done anything” Remus eyes James before turning back to Peter “If anything, you’ve done something to him, you alright?” he takes a look at Peters head to see there was a cut where the luggage fell on him

“Yeah…” Peter nods before looking around warily “Can you see spots?” he asks in a state that makes him look half-drunk as the concussion starts to set in

“I’ll take him to sit down, you sort whatever’s going on with him” Remus tells James before helping Peter sit down at a nearby bench as he pulls out his wand to heal his head

“Pads” James approaches him concern evident in his voice

Sirius voice was low and broken “I missed her” his expression turned frustrated “Fuck…what never heard a person swear before!” he snaps at a conductor as he gives him a disappointed look before quickly walking on

“Mate it’ll alright” James tries to calm him down

“No, it won’t! I don’t have her address…merlin I don’t even know her last name” he sighs cursing his past self

“You dated this girl for what, give or take 8 months and you don’t know her last name?” James could have laughed if he wasn’t sure Sirius would kill him

“I’m sorry I’m not stalker like you. Mr I knew Lily’s childhood pet before you’d even held a conversation with her” he mocks his friend

“I did not stalk” James defends himself

“Yes, you did I was there!” Peter shouts from afar

“Shut up Wormtail, I can make my luggage his you on purpose this time” he points at his friend before saying a quick sorry as Remus gives him a death glare, he turns back to Sirius “Look why don’t you go to Hogsmeade the first trip and see if you can find her then” he suggests

Sirius felt empty over summer, he felt so stupid for not doing anything sooner, he supposed it was because he was so caught up with you that he just didn’t think. He spent most his days helping James paint their new apartment, doing it the muggle way so he could keep his mind off of things. He wondered was you must think of him, if you would wait for him, if you thought of him as more than a little fling or if you would even want to see him after he left you high and dry.

It was time for the Hogsmeade trip, thanks to Peter he knew which weekend it was. He apparated there around the early afternoon, you had once told him you liked to walk around the streets in the afternoon since it was a lot quieter and everyone was either eating lunch or soaking up the sun near the lake. As he walked slowly around trying to spot you he did feel a bit sick, 4 months since he last saw you kissed you, hating himself for not saying those three little words. You had never gone further than one heated kiss in the library, he wasn’t exactly going to have your first time in one of Finches abandoned broom closets or deep in the books of the library, no, you deserved so much better he wanted to take you out, watch the stars with you and take his time to savour everything, for the first time in his life he wasn’t in a rush he was going to enjoy the journey.

The nervous feeling vanished when he spotted you, he started to smile as he started to walk towards you but wavered when he saw you were with someone. The sick feeling returned in full force as he didn’t recognise the boy you were with as one of your friends, his heart beat out his chest as he watched you laugh at something before the boy reached up and tucked some hair behind your ear. As the boy leaned in Sirius turned away, he wasn’t going to sit there and witness you kiss someone that wasn’t him. He quickly walked away and apparated back to his flat heart shattering.

“How’d it go!?” Lily asks as soon as he appeared

“Bloody fuck…merlin Red” Sirius jumps back having a minor heart attack before he clutches his chest

“Sorry” Lily cringes while James and Remus start chuckling

Sirius turns “Is everyone here?” he looks between the three

“Wormtail couldn’t make it but ya pretty much, so you tell her?” Remus tilts his head waiting in anticipation along with Lily and James

“She was on a date” Sirius collapses onto the couch, as their expressions drop “I left it too late…ugh I fuck up everything” his head falls into his hands

The others look among themselves, Lily taking a seat beside him as James took a seat across from him along with Remus “Are you sure it was a date?” Lily checks as she rubs his back

“I’ve done that little hair tuck thing enough times to know what he was going to do next” he grimaces “It was definitely a date”

“Did you talk to her?” Remus asks with knitted eyebrows

“No I left” Sirius leans his head into Lily’s shoulder as she wraps an arm around him “It was stupid of me to think she’d wait…I just thought…” for the first time since he ran away he let himself cry in front of people, Remus got up right away as did James, moving to the seat on his other side as James moved to kneel on the floor in front of him.

After a few minutes Lily turned to him “How did you leave things? Like at the end of the year, maybe she thought that was the end?”

Sirius shakes his head “No wee were perfect, the last time was any other day. Sure, I didn’t get a chance to see her again and give her a proper goodbye but we had gone for a couple weeks before without speaking…I’m so stupid” he mutters the last bit

“You aren’t stupid” Lily reassures him

“What was the last thing you said to her?” James inquires

“Ugh, Minnie and Dumbledore aren’t going to prank themselves I think? Then I got ready to leave and she asked…So, is this it?” he says the last three words slowly as his mouth drops “Oh fuck!” Sirius sits in shock as it dawns on him, hands trailing through his hair as he bunches them up

“What did you say?” Lily eyes him

“Yeah of course it is” he looks half catatonic while lily hits him “Hey!”

“Wait, so you broke up with her?” James looks at him confused and shocked mouth open

“No…well…I said it more like yeah, of course it is…like, yeah I need to…leave” Sirius shuts his eyes tightly “I can’t believe I broke up with her…merlin she probably hates me I just left her like I didn’t care…Imma gonna throw up” he hands his head between his legs as he takes deep breaths, as he sits back upright he turns to Lily “How do I fix this, please red have to fix this”

You sighed as you lent your head on the window of the train, watching as you slowly pulled into Kings cross “Cheer up y/n it’s the holidays” one of your friends say as the give your knee a little shake

“Sorry” you give them a small smile

“It’s been almost 6 months y/n” your other friend gives you look mixed with worry and annoyance “You need to move on” she insists

“I don’t want to” you snap at her “My heart wants him” you say quietly taking a deep breath

“And he didn’t want you” she claps back rather harshly making you wince

“Gal” your other friend warns, a look a disappointment on his face

“No I’m not going to teeter around this subject anymore, you need some tough love” she turns to you “He was and will always be a player, he came and gone from your life like clockwork showing up getting you attached like he was some kind of drug and now you need to detox”

“It wasn’t like that…” you defend frowning

“Merlin y/n you need to grow up” she says huffing as she picks up her bag “I can’t sit her and watch you suffer like this anymore…have a nice holiday” she shakes her head giving you one last look as she wishes you both before taking her leave

“I know she went around that the wrong way but she had a point” your other friend gives you a sad look “What ever happened to that date? You didn’t want to talk about it after” he asks as he lifts down some of his own luggage

“He tried to kiss me” you cringe remembering the moment

“Did you kiss him back” he tilts his head

“No, I slapped him” you say hesitantly

“Gal” he looks at you in shock “Seriously, you can just say no thanks” he lets out a small laugh as he imagines sweet little you slapping someone

“I did but then he said every knew I had a thing with Sirius so I should stop being a prude and playing innocent, then he called me a…a mean word starting with s and ending in t” you scrunch up your nose

“Oh, well next time punch him and break his nose, or call me and I’ll do it…actually I’ll just throw a Bludger at his head next year” He stands up and picks up his bags while you giggle at his comment “I won’t tell you what to do because you aren’t going to listen, but please take some time to think about this, this isn’t healthy” he gives you a kiss to the forehead and a hug before leaving

You sluggishly got your bags and such together and headed off the train, slowly pushing your trolley towards the little coffee stand you always went to for something to eat before you headed home. As you approached you could have sworn you saw Sirius for a second in the swarm of people, stopping you stare into the crowd. As some people parted you saw him already looking at you, your favourite flowers in hand.

You just stood there frozen as he approached you slowly, when he was about 10 feet away you snapped out of your daze walking right up and wrapped your arms around his torso tightly. His face looked confused as you approached, wincing a bit as he must have thought you were going to slap him. It took less than a second before he returned it sighing in relief as his lips tugged up, breathing in your scent.

As you pulled apart your hands stayed clutching the material of his shirt at his sides while his along with the flowers stayed behind your back “Hi” he breaths out

“Hi” you whisper back meeting his eyes

“I had this whole speech planned” he lets out a laugh “I didn’t expect a warm embrace you see” he leans his forehead on yours for a moment before pulling back “The premise was…umm…fuck it” you let out a small giggle “I love you” he says genuinely “I love you and I’m so sorry” he cups your cheek with his free hand

You tilt your head, lips parted at his confession “You love me?” you confirm, making sure you heard that right

“Yes, so much. I…I didn’t mean to break up with you I only realised I actually in October after a conversation with Lily, who hit me more than once afterwards…actually Wormtail did too” he cringes pressing a kiss to your forehead “I’m so sorry, I’m probably the world’s biggest idiot…”

You let out a little laugh, finding his ramble cute and your heart soaring as you were right, he did love you and you were so happy you never gave up “I love you too” you confess

His face lights up “You do? Even after what I did?” he looks at you hopefully, lips tug up into a thankful smile as you speak

“Yes…I never not stopped” his smile widens as he dips down to kiss you properly but hesitates as your noses touch “what?” you pout

He pulls back slightly, licking his lips “We were technically broken up at the time so I’m not upset in any way but…but are with anyone or been with anyone. I saw you at Hogsmeade on a date” he admits, insecurity evident in his voice

“You did?” you cock your head confused but your heart fluttered that he came to Hogsmeade to see you

“Yeah” he nods “I left before I saw him kiss you…I just couldn’t watch…” his expression is pained before he sees you grinning at him “what?” his own face soften as he can’t help but smile with you

“You left before the good bit” he looks a taken aback which makes you giggle “You left before you saw me slap him”

His eyes widen in happiness “You didn’t kiss him?” you shake your head making him throw the flowers onto your trolley as he lifts you up and spins you around, kissing you all over your face as he does while you squeal giggling. As he sets you down he finally registers what you said “Wait you…” he lets out a surprised yet proud laugh “you slapped him?”

“Little bit” you bite your lip “He called you mean things and said I was a…slu… a not very nice word” you couldn’t say it

A smile graced his face as he heard you defended him before it hardened as he knew what word it was “Give me his name and the marauders will end him, we might have graduated but no one messes with my girl” he cups your face

“Your girl?” you smile at him

“My girl” he says softly, leaning in to capture your lips in a long overdue kiss

#sirius x reader #sirius and reader #sirius black and reader #sirius and you #sirius and y/n #sirius x you #Sirius Black #siriusblack #sirius black fanfiction #angst to fluff #shy reader #maraduers #marauders era #marauders fic

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axoxtxhxh · 3 years

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Pairing: Sub!Goshiki x DomFem! Chubby!Reader Part 1 Summary: You met your good friend Goshiki at work one day, having similar interests in books. When you start developing feelings for him, things get difficult. Especially when he asks a special favor. Content: Body image issues

A/N: Thank you for following along! We’re now on our fourth week of stories! Both virginity loss stories are three parts. The second part will release on Wednesday and the third part on Friday. Be sure to check out @millenialfanfictionaddictions story Oikawa’s Oasis! You can reach it through the Please Me Series Masterlist. Feedback is appreciated!

This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to be like this at all. It wasn’t like you had your whole life planned out, in fact, it was quite the opposite. You didn’t know what you were doing half the time and you had reached a point in your life where you were kind of okay with that. While there were good things you tried to bring into your life, there was an even longer list of bad things you tried to keep out.

After hitting your late twenties, you decided it was important to take care of yourself. Getting rid of toxic friendships and focusing on your mental and physical health became your priority. You were doing a great job, as much as the rolls on your stomach and all over chubby look you had attested against it.

One of the other things you decided to finally pursue was your dream of being a romance novelist. You quit your nine-to-five day job that you hated and started working at your favorite bookstore in town while your nights were spent writing. The support you had from your friends at the bookstore was way more than you could ever have imagined. Even your boss loved hearing about your story ideas.

“You look tired.” Your boss, Dylan, joked as you walked into the breakroom, ready to start your shift.

“I was up late last night writing.” You hung up your jacket in your locker. “I could really use some… cof…fee.”

Your eyes lit up as you saw the full cup of coffee in your boss’s hand, extended to you. It was from your favorite shop down the street.

“How did you know I wanted coffee? Are you even real?” You took the cup and gulped down half of it.

“You forget, I’m your beta reader.” He laughed. “When you’re up writing, I’m up reading. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Thank you!” You held the cup up to him, then took another big gulp.

“You get another tattoo?” He asked, eyeing your arm as you closed your locker. You looked down at your arm and smiled.

“Yep. Trying to finish up this sleeve.”

“I have a question.” He leaned back in his chair, his hands resting in his lap. “Why don’t you ever write with characters that look like you?”

“People like me don’t get to have romances like those in the books.” You shrugged and headed out to the floor.

The morning mid-shift was always your favorite. As much as you hated getting up early, the bookstore was at its quietest then and you could relax with your coworkers. You spotted your favorite co-worker manning the help desk and focusing on something on the other side of the bookstore.

“What are you looking at?”

“Shh…” They put their fingers to their lips. “I don’t want him to know I see him.”

“See who? What are you talking about?” You whispered, trying not to expose yourselves even though you still didn’t know what you were looking at.

“That guy.” They pointed and your eyes followed the direction of their finger to see a tall figure in the magazine section, his hood up, mask on and wearing sunglasses. You could see black bangs peeking out under the hood.

“So why don’t you want him to know you see him?”

“In case he’s stealing.” They whisper-yelled and you laughed.

“I’ll just go talk to him.” You stood up straight and made your way over. He looked a little less shady up close because you could see that he was lost in his reading and didn’t even really notice you being there.

When you first walked up, you saw him reading one of the car magazines from the shelf, but now that you were closer, you could see he had a book inside the magazine and was reading the book.

“You know, normally people put the magazine in the book, not the other way around.” You leaned closer to him and he jumped back, shrieking as he dropped the magazine and the book. He backed away from you and if he didn’t have his entire face covered with a mask and sunglasses, you could only imagine his eyes wide and his mouth open.

The magazine was all bent on the ground and you leaned over to pick it up along with the book. You could only imagine what he was reading that he had it hidden in a car magazine. Putting the magazine back on the shelf, you looked at the cover of the book. Romance?

“Were you reading this?” You held the book up to him with a smile.

“No.” He shook his head back and forth anxiously.

“Then why is it here?”

“It fell.”

“From where?” You questioned.

“Alright fine, I was reading it.”

He dropped his head low and you gasped sarcastically, your hand to your chest. “No! Really? I would never have guessed.”

“Very funny.” You laughed, looking back down at the book.

“So why are you hiding then? Or did you not notice there’s only like two other people shopping.” You gestured to the rest of the store. “Or maybe you couldn’t see well with those incredibly dark sunglasses.”

“That’s not it.” He pulled off the sunglasses and mask, dropping the hood to his sweatshirt as he looked around the store nervously. “I just don’t want anyone to know I’m reading it.”

“What’s wrong with it?” You looked at the book. It was one of your favorites. “This is a great book.”

His eyes widened as he quickly looked back to you. “You like romance novels?”

“I love them. I’m trying to write one actually. This one has given me a lot of inspiration for my current story.”

“That’s so cool.” He smiled, looking really amazed, you weren’t sure by what though.

“So, let me get this straight.” You narrowed your eyes skeptically. “You come in here to secretly read these romance novels because you don’t want people to know you’re reading them?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you just buy it and read it at home?”

“I have a roommate and I don’t want him to know.”

“You could go to the library.”

“They don’t have the ones I like and they don’t release as quickly as you guys do.”

“How long have you been doing this?” His mouth opened and he turned away, looking nervous by the question so you changed the subject. “Never mind. Honestly, as long as you’re not stealing or planning to steal, you can read however you’d like.”

You stepped back, adjusting the unorganized magazines, and turned to walk back to your station.

“Well, wait.” He went to grab your arm, but thought better and pulled back as you turned around. “You said you write.”

“Yes.” You nodded at him.

“Can I read your stuff?”

“Why would I let you read my work?” You laughed slightly uncomfortably. It was a weird question. He doesn’t know anything about you or your writing. You could actually suck at it. “I don’t even know you.”

“Goshiki.” He put his hand out with a smile and you shook it, telling him your name. “So we’re friends now?”

You started laughing. You couldn’t believe this guy. Friends? You met less than two minutes ago because he was being a creep in your store.

“You don’t have to laugh.” He grumbled.

“Why do you want to read my work so badly? You don’t know me. It could very well suck.”

“I just don’t have anyone to talk to about this stuff. I’ve been reading these books for years. I tried to avoid them in high school because I knew I would get made fun of, but I’ve never met anyone in person that likes them too. Not since you.”

The look on his face made you feel so guilty. Why did you have to have such a big heart? The guy just wants to talk about romance novels. He also had a point. You barely knew anyone that liked romance novels and you worked at a book store. Honestly, you could use a second opinion. Dylan had no idea what he was talking about half the time.

“Fine.” You sighed and he started smiling.

“Really?”

“Yes, but I’m not letting you read it without me watching. The last thing I need is you to steal my ideas.”

“That’s perfect.” He pulled out his phone. “There’s a coffee shop just down the street I like. We can meet there. Can I have your number?”

“Are you talking about Milstead?” You took his phone and typed your information, handing him your phone.

“Yeah, you know it?”

“Know it? I love it. I practically keep them in business.”

That’s where your friendship with the weird guy in the bookstore started. You weren’t so stuck in middle school that you would call him your best friend, but he was definitely your best friend. You had even caught him calling you his best friend to your coworkers and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have you smiling.

You had never gotten along with someone so immediately the way you did with Goshiki. You had an endless list of similar interests, from favorite books to your favorite coffee shop. You even had the same oddball order from the café. Though, you were both pretty sure that he accidentally got your order once and liked it so much he continued ordering it.

It didn’t take long for you both to start hanging out nearly every day and he started coming into the bookstore to talk to you rather than actually reading the novels he loved. After a couple weeks you trusted him enough to email him your work and it was only a month into your friendship before he was going over to your apartment to hang out regularly.

“Don’t you think it’s weird how close you’ve gotten?” Dylan asked as he helped stock the shelves. He had been wondering how your writing was going and if you were going to finish the latest chapter you had been working on. When you told him Goshiki was coming over to your place later so it wouldn’t get done, he worried.

“I don’t think it’s weird. Is it?” You didn’t feel uncomfortable. Honestly, Goshiki didn’t give off any of the red flags you were so used to seeing in people. He was genuinely a nice person who loved the same things as you.

“I don’t know. You just so happen to love all the same things?” He paused his stocking and looked at you. “Are you sure he doesn’t just have feelings for you and maybe he’s pretending to like the same things as you?”

“Stop trying to put me in my romance novel.” You laughed. “Guys don’t do that for me.”

Later that night you were in your kitchen waiting for Goshiki to get there. You had done something so stupid, something so completely thoughtless that you knew would ruin your mood yet you couldn’t resist the torture apparently. You weighed yourself. The level of fluctuating your weight did was honestly unbelievable. You always had good days when it was down, but days like today when it was up, you couldn’t help but let it sour your mood.

There was a knock at the door before it opened up and Goshiki walked in. You hadn’t given him a key or anything, but it was only a matter of time before you both hit that step.

“I brought Oreos.” He smiled, setting the container on the counter, pulling it open and eating one. He grabbed a second one and split it open, handing you the side without the cream. “Here.”

“You can have my side.” You tried to smile.

“But you always eat my half that doesn’t have cream.”

“It’s fine.” You shook your head. “I shouldn’t be eating it.”

“Shouldn’t be eating it? Are you sick?” He pulled another Oreo from the container and ate it in one bite. He was honestly so lucky he could eat whatever he wanted.

“No just watching my weight. I sort of fell back into some old habits.”

“What’s wrong with your weight? You look great.”

“Let’s get started on the story.” You tried to change the subject.

“Did you finish the chapter?” Goshiki’s eyes were wide and he spit the dryness of the cookies from his mouth out of excitement. You laughed as he quickly covered his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Maybe.” You smiled coyly, grabbing his hand and he grabbed the Oreo container. “Come on.”

Moving to the couch, you sat on the end, Goshiki plopping next to you, and you put your laptop in his lap. There was a tiny bit of anxiety building in your stomach as you sat there watching him read and you were pretty sure part of it was what Dylan had said earlier. Was it possible that Goshiki had feelings for you? You watched as he put another Oreo in his mouth, his eyes glued to screen of your computer, scanning back and forth as he read. You weren’t even sure if he was blinking, the glow of the monitor shining onto his eyes. There was no way someone could be that into you to fake that look of concentration.

You smiled to yourself and kept watching him read. This chapter had a pretty steamy scene in it but you’d known Goshiki long enough and seen him read enough of your work to know that it didn’t matter what he was reading, his expression never changed. His eyes were always wide with interest, mouth closed in a pout.

He put another Oreo in and you watched him as he chewed, his jaw working. You could see the sharp, jagged edges of the cookie through his cheek until it eventually became a smooth, round bump and he swallowed it, reaching for another.

Propping your head up on your hand on the back of the couch, you continued watching him. He was definitely good-looking. You had noticed how good-looking he was the first day you saw him in the magazine section, hiding his romance novel. Not wanting to interrupt him, you tried not to laugh, but definitely couldn’t hold back the smile as you thought about the memory. Would it be so bad if he did have feelings for you? You had dated some really terrible guys in the past. Goshiki wouldn’t even be close to the list those guys were on.

He licked his lips, wiping Oreo crumbs from his mouth and you licked your own lips, swallowing hard as you watched him. You liked the same food, the same coffee, the same books, you had so many hobbies that overlapped and you could honestly spend hours with him without getting bored. You started to think that maybe you were feeling anxious not because of what Dylan thought of Goshiki, but maybe what you were feeling about him. Was it maybe you that had feelings for Goshiki?

“Wow, that was such a good—” He turned to look at you but noticed something in your face, an expression he wasn’t sure of. “Everything okay?”

You had made a lot of questionable decisions in your life, some of them you regretted, some led you to the most amazing times. This last year especially was a time of making really great decisions, cleaning out the bad and bringing in the good. You weren’t sure which direction this decision was going to take you, but you leaned into Goshiki anyway. His eyes went a little wide as your lips barely touched. You wanted to give him time to pull away if he wanted, but he didn’t and that made you push yourself the last inch until your lips met his.

Soft, plush, velvety lips pressed against yours and for an instant you were taken out of the moment, your head swirling with a mix of feelings, amazing feelings that you weren’t even sure you could separate but it didn’t matter because the cocktail they created in your head made you feel drunk, stupidly drunk as you kissed him. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you pulled back.

“Oh my—I’m sorry—I don’t—"

“No, it… it feels good.” He brought his hands up to your cheeks and pushed his lips against yours again, this time without any hesitation. You never knew the feeling of his nose touching yours or the little puffs of his breath against your face, or just how warm, calloused, and big his hands would feel against your cheek. Suddenly you were feeling them all at once and you pulled him closer, your tongue licking over his lips until he opened his mouth.

He dropped his hand to your waist, rubbing at the fleshiness of your body and you couldn’t stop the heavy beating of your heart. The awkwardness you had briefly worried about didn’t exist, it was only bliss. It was the best kind of overwhelming and you wanted more of him.

Pushing the laptop to the other side of him, you lifted yourself up until you could climb over him, straddling his lap. His hands immediately went to your plump hips, cradling them, but again you wanted more and you scooted yourself closer.

“Uh—I…” He gasped, sitting back from you.

“Is this too fast?”

“I’ve just never—I mean, I don’t know how—I’ve never—reading it is totally different.”

“Are you okay?” He kind of looked like he was shutting down. He was saying a lot, but none of it was complete and made no sense to you.

His eyes widened as he whispered quietly to himself. “Holy shit, my dick’s hard.”

“Goshi—”

“I have to go.” He started standing up with you in his lap and you quickly moved out of the way so he could get up. “I’m sorry. I just… I have to go.”

He didn’t even turn around to look at you as he moved hurriedly to the front door of your apartment. You heard the door quickly open and close and you couldn’t even let yourself feel bad. You were just confused.

It was possible you misread the situation, but he seemed really into it. Maybe he changed his mind partway through. You didn’t want to think about you being the problem, but it was hard to ignore. He felt your weight. You sat on his lap and he held you and maybe he finally realized that you didn’t ‘look great’ like he always told you.

You sighed, sitting back on the couch and running your fingers through your hair. You had done so much this last year to better yourself. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to be like this at all. Great decisions would lead to great opportunities and you were trying to bring good things into your life. Falling for your best friend was not on that list, yet here you were.

Shit.

.....

@chaotic-nick @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes @serostapesweat @lovelyzabrak-meadow

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