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panda-writes-kpop · 2 months

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What does a demon and a function have in common? (You can test both of their limits!) - l. yb.

a/n: happy dami day! i know the timeline of this fic is messy, but just pretend that it's all okay and I will too :) also I wrote this because I was trying to understand my feelings as an aroace person towards love and I'm still really confused... but at least we got a good fic out of it! ❤️

tw: demons, undefined magic, lots of mentions of death, implied aroace! reader, a bit of religious trauma

word count: 2.6k

summary: you're in distress over your math homework and the pretty demon that helps you with it, and you're reluctant to let your heart do the talking since it ended pretty badly for your friend and her demon companion.

related fics: Demon! SuA - Tainted Love

♡ Masterlist ♡

You shouldn't do this.

You glare at the leather-bound book in front of you as you furiously erase another answer from your sheet of scratch paper. The book was a gift from a friend, one that had struggled with a demonic relationship before.

You hadn't heard from them in a year and a half, and from what you heard from mutual friends, they weren't doing too well. Although you weren't positive that the book was bad news, you had never seen your friend so desperate to remove an object from their grasp.

After doing a bit of research, you realized that it was a cursed tome. There were seven different markings on the cover, which meant that seven different demons were tied to the book. Luckily, only one had been released when your friend had opened the book.

Now, you had to be the one to safeguard it. To make sure that no one would ever be hurt by the book again.

But, as you stare at your Calculus homework, you realize that you have no idea what you're fucking doing. And at 10 p.m. the night before an exam, the tutoring center is closed and the professor is probably counting sheep while their students are stressing out.

You're well aware that it's a stupid, very dumb, unintelligent idea to open a cursed book in order to understand Calculus, but what other choice do you have? Do you fail this exam then fail the class, which would put you a year behind?

What would your peers say?

What would your family say?

A shiver down your back, from the looming threat of parental disappointment, causes you to drop your pencil and reach for the book. Your hand gently traces the seven etchings on the cover, and you notice that one isn't filled in with color.

The demon that took my friend away.

You really shouldn't be doing this.

You think about the laundry list of concepts that you have to master by 10 a.m. tomorrow, and your decision has never been easier.

I'd rather stick my hand in an open flame than do another problem with no help.

When you open the book, you realize that you're blissfully unaware of how to summon a demon. Do you say a bunch of random words in Latin? Do you do a little hand motion? Do you need an offering?

You decide that your best option at summoning a demon that won't smite you immediately is to plead with the book.

Because desperate never goes out of style.

“Listen, I don't know who I'm talking to, if I'm even talking to anyone in the first place. I'm having a problem. …Well, it's not a ‘the fate of the world rests in your hands’ type of problem, but I still could use some help.”

An orange trail of smoke leaves the book in your hands and swirls like a tornado in an empty spot in your living room. Objects start flying around because of the tailwind, and you have to duck before you take a pencil to the eyeball.

“Who knew Calculus homework could be deadly?” You joke as you try to not think about the magnitude of the situation that you're in. You haven't even met the demon yet, and the smoke that it creates(?) it is trying to kill you.

Not a good sign.

Once your apartment is messy enough for your demon of choice, the book in your hands shuts itself as the orange smoke starts to dissipate.

You set the book aside as you gawk at the woman- no, demon that stands in your living room.

She's dressed in all black, ready to go to a funeral.

You just have to hope that it's not yours.

“How can I assist you?” She softly asks in a semi-uninterested voice.

“I need help with Calculus.” You blurt out as she clocks her head at you.

“I beg your pardon?”

This demon was exceptionally smart, which was good for your tired, mortal mind. She also didn't kill you on the spot - a good thing, you assume, unless the murder is waiting for you on the other side of the Calculus homework.

She was taken aback by your request, staring at you in utter surprise until she joined your side and helped you with your homework.

Her voice was gentle and smooth, and you would've fallen asleep if you weren't thinking about being killed in your sleep.

“Thanks.” You rub your eyes as you set the pencil down as you check your phone for the time.

You're proud of yourself for putting your phone on dark mode (you've flash-banged yourself in the past, it's a one time mistake) as you realize that it's only one in the morning. With a few hours of sleep and a large container of your favorite caffeinated drink, you'd be fine for your exam.

“Is that all you needed? …A bit of guidance with math?” The woman sitting beside you is in disbelief as you nod your head.

“Is there something wrong with that?” You joke, momentarily forgetting that she's a demon.

“Forgive me, but the people who usually hold the tome are more demanding… and a lot less cute.”

“Okay, back into the book you go.” You toss the book her way before trying to hide her embarrassment.

She chuckles softly before running her fingers over the spine.

“You have no idea how any of this works, right?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod your head before starting to put your school stuff away.

“Right, right.” Her eyes meet yours for a moment. “Dami.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head at her, but she snaps her fingers and disappears with the book in an instance.

Well, that damn book is out of my sight and I now have a chance to pass my Calc exam. I'll take that as a win-win.

You don't remember climbing into bed last night (this morning? The days are blending together at this point).

Before leaving your apartment, you say a small prayer before grabbing your pick-me-up of choice from the fridge. You might have this exam on lock.

As you walk to class, you recite Calculus formulas in your head. Partial derivatives swirl around your mind along with the thought of the mysterious woman.

Dami?

She's not a directional derivative, so you should focus on something else.

You, at least, had the demon situation under control.

This semester, you officially renounced your academic weapon status; instead, you were an academic victim. Although you most definitely messed up the first problem (why do all of the problems have the same wording yet completely different solutions?), you had the rest of it down.

Your confidence evaporated when the two classmates behind you started discussing their answers and got completely different answers to you.

Maybe another semester here wouldn't be so bad?

“You did fine.”

You jump as your eyes lock with the demon from the night before.

“Sorry, sorry.” You apologize to the two people behind you as you step to the side to speak with Dami. “I like your confidence in me, and I wish I had a fraction of it for myself.”

“There's nothing wrong with having a little pride.” She shrugs as the doors to the lecture hall open.

“Well, at least there's another exam a few weeks after spring break.” Ryujin shrugs before closing the door and walking towards you. “How'd the exam go for you?”

“It was okay.” You softly shrug as you glance between Dami and Ryujin.

“You're too humble for how smart you are.” Ryujin scoffs before turning to Dami. “You new here?”

“I'm just visiting someone.” Dami winks at you, and your eyes avert her gaze afterwards.

Ryujin sighs before adjusting her backpack and clearing her throat.

“They're not interested in guys or girls…. or anyone, for that matter.”

You playfully smack Ryujjn's shoulder before she pretends to be in extreme pain from the hit.

“It's not an absolute thing. I'll know if there's someone I'm interested in.” You nonchalantly say as Ryujin checks her smart watch.

“Oh shit, I've got class in fifteen minutes halfway across campus. See ya!” Ryujin waves to you both before offering a nod to Dami. “Nice to meet you.”

She runs off in another direction as your attention turns to Dami.

“Why are you here, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I haven't been out of that book for centuries. I just wanted to see how humans lived.” Dami folds her arms before walking to you. “The world is so much different… better, if you ask me.”

“You're not like any demon I've heard of.” You blurt out before biting your tongue. “Sorry, that's probably really mean to say-”

“It's okay, and to be honest, I'd be surprised if I was like any other demon that you met. Not all demons fall from the sky, you know.”

It's been three hours, and you're still trying to come to terms with the fact that Dami’s a fallen angel. Who says that to someone after only two interactions with them?

Dami, apparently, because she's been watching you like a hawk as you sit across from her in the campus library.

“You think of me differently, don't you?”

You don't look up from your computer as you tap your pencil against the desk three times.

Click. Click. Click.

“I don't.” You calmly say before writing an equation in your notebook. “I should be honest with you, though, since you were honest with me. It's only fair.”

You pause for a moment as Dami folds her arms and leans against the chair. She's trying to remain cool, but a small twitch in her left eye tells you that she's more interested than she appears to be.

It's cute.

“I had a friend who summoned a demon from that book… I don't know her name, and I don't want to. She ruined my friend’s life, Dami.” You explain your friend’s story, going through agonizing detail as told through their family and other friends.

You have to pause once to wipe your tears, and Dami offers a comforting hand as the other drops to her side. You, albeit hesitantly, take it.

She should be cold like ice- undead, unfeeling. But there's some sort of warmth in her touch that can't be explained by the hellfire that she resides in.

Perhaps she's already gotten attached to you. You feel it too, you want to trust her. Can you, though?

She hasn't torn your arm off yet, so you're starting off on the right foot.

Trauma dumping counts as bonding, right?

You bite your lip before shaking your head, feeling the uncertainty of everything crash against you. What are you doing, trusting a demon that hurt someone that you care deeply about?

I can't do this.

“I should go.” You pull your hand out of her grasp as you quickly try to pack your things up. “I'm sorry, I'm probably shit-talking one of your friends that you've known for centuries.”

As you reach for your pencil, Dami grabs your wrist.

“I can't promise that I'm a ‘good’ demon or person,” She softly exhales before looking in your eyes, “but I won't betray you. Not now. Not ever.”

Something pounds, but it's not your head, swimming from the thoughts of your friends and the demon in front of you.

It comes from deep inside you, a feeling that you thought would be forever foreign to you. A magical feeling that “normal” people got to feel. The thing that makes them human, after all.

Your heart pounds.

This isn't you. You need to leave. Now.

Without exchanging another word, you run off into the afternoon light. You know she might follow you, but you hope she'll give you some space.

I hope she doesn't hate me.

You need to get a grip, and fast, before you rock the boat that's been steadily keeping you afloat for years.

Five hours. That's the longest you can last in a little internet cafe before you put your tail between your legs and head home. You know Dami will be there, and you don't want to sleep on a park bench, so home it is.

Will she be mad at me?

Who cares? You're not in love with her, you just like her.

As a friend.

As someone you can hang out with.

Someone to share secrets with.

Friends can kiss, right?

You've known her for less than twenty-four hours. You need to find where your sense of reality has gone and reclaim it before you head into your apartment.

But the key is already in your hand.

Your feet walk up the stairs without your brain telling them to.

You unlock your apartment door to see someone quietly sitting on your couch - the same spot where she helped you with your math homework.

Your stomach and heart fill with dread as you slowly take off your shoes.

She's been kind to you, and you ran off because you were upset about your own feelings.

You felt like a petulant child.

“I'm sorry for running off. I got upset thinking about my friend, and I should have talked through my feelings like a fucking adult. You're not like the other demon, just as I'm not like my friend. Feeling trapped by someone else’s opinions of you is rough,” You toss the keys on the counter before shedding your coat, “trust me, I know.”

Dami looks back to you, and the moonlight casts her in an angelic glow - she was ethereal and you didn't doubt that she was once an angel. You'd be more surprised if she wasn't one of God’s favorites.

Why was she here, instead of in the sky?

You don't want to pry, but Dami’s the first one to walk towards you.

“I was worried about you,” She softly admits, “a demon, a former angel, a creature much older than you could comprehend, was worried about the safety of a mortal.”

When she is close enough for you to reach out for her, she reaches out her hand.

“I'm not an evil demon or a perfect angel. But I can promise you-”

“I think I like you.” The words spill out of your lips before you can truly think about what you're saying. “I mean, of course I like you, but it's not how I've liked anyone before. I like Ryujin as a friend, she's nice to me and we get lunch sometimes. But you… you're different. And being different scares me. It's not just because you're a demon, it's who you are. It wouldn't matter if you were a demon, angel, or human because I'd still feel the same way.”

You pause to take a breath.

“I'm not normal, and I'm probably not like any human you've met. I don't want a traditional romance with a wedding or kids. I don't want physical intimacy with someone who won't appreciate me. Hell, I don't even know if I want a partner half of the time. The only thing I know,” You take her hand before pulling Dami closer, “is that I want you to be by my side. As a friend or as something more. Whatever we will be, I know we'll figure it out together.”

“I want you by my side as well.” She softly mutters as you place your forehead against hers.

You're both quiet as you envelope yourselves in the serene environment that you've created.

“So, do I meet your devilish friends now, or do I have to take you to dinner first?”

Dami laughs warmly before pulling you close to her.

“Whatever you want.”

You're in deep. She has in her talons sunk deep under your skin, in less than a day.

She could betray you.

You had to learn how to trust her.

And in time, you will.

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the-real-daddy-van-der-bellen · 3 years

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nothing funnier than tutoring students asking me if they are allowed to use the bathroom during online class.. while they're at their own home..

#the whole asking to go to the bathroom thing in schools is honestly borderline brainwashing #like #are children not allowed any bodily autonomy??#so weird #they ask me if they are allowed to go to the bathroom while I'm sitting at my desk #on which there is barely enough room to put my laptop #because of all the laundry I haven't put away yet and books and papers and other junk #and I didn't even get dressed i just put on a hoodie #so they don't see I'm still in my pajamas #and I haven't washed my hair in a while but it's okay it doesn't look too bad on the webcam #but yeah sure i have the authority over whether you are allowed to use your own freaking bathroom #madness...

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kerie-prince · 3 years

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We're Worlds Apart (8)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: mentions of smoking, mentions of death

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: god, i had MAJOR writers block for this chapter. i almost got lost in the direction i wanted this series to go and i'm still figuring out a way on how to not let this drag out too long. i'm debating on adding this to wattpad but i don't know how to make aesthetically pleasing cover art so if anyone could teach a bitch how, lmk ✋🏼😩

(gif cred)

Blaise has been acting differently than usual. Not that you had too many complaints considering that you hardly knew him. Better words would be that from the short time you knew him, he started acting different. What was once two nights a week turned into him staying with you almost everyday.

It was kind of annoying, actually. He was here to see Draco, not some random person he just met.

One morning, he got up early and tried to make breakfast, but he had no idea how to work any of the muggle items so rather than your alarm on your bed stand you woke up to the smoke alarm.

You woke up feeling groggy but had a pleasant soreness on your inner thighs. Before you even brushed your hair or teeth, you rushed as much as you could to see what was going on in your house. When you stepped into your kitchen, your toaster was on fire and there was smoke everywhere. Blaise was just standing by it scratching his head. It woke you right up; you ran to your small laundry room and snatched the fire hydrant.

After you put the fire out, you turned to Blaise, “What the hell happened?”

“I guess now would be a bad time to ask you to make breakfast?” He didn't really show that he was sorry. Maybe on the inside he was, but would it kill him to show it? You rubbed the temple of your nose bridge to smooth out the growing headache. Now you have to buy a new toaster and make food for this man.

The bell rang through your house in the early morning. You set the fire hydrant on the counter and walked to the front door to see who it was that was outside. Probably, no, hopefully Theo coming to pick his best friend up to take him out to go anywhere else that wasn't your house.

Fate was decidedly not on your side today. The person that stood on your porch was none other than your mother. “Ma? What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be rude, baby,” she let herself in just like she used to walk into your room when you were younger living in her house. She looked around and had a scrunched up look. “Y/N, what is burning?”

Just when the situation couldn't get any worse, Blaise walked out to the living room also assuming Theo was here to see him. It donned on you now that Blaise was shirtless and his pajama silk bottoms were sitting dangerously low on his hips. You were glad that he was wearing underwear or else your mother would see more than she needed to.

Blaise stood shockingly still and wasn't sure what to do, so he just did the first thing that came to mind. “Hello, I'm Blaise. Nice to meet you,” he held his hand out for your mother to shake.

She stood with a look of horror on her face and kept her hands to her side. As if it was natural, she gave you a disapproving look before looking back at the man in your house. Blaise retracted his hand and looked at you, “I'll just be at Draco’s then.”

You nodded and stayed with your mother as he put on his shirt in your room and left. “Y/N… what are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Isn't it a long ride from Boston?” you sassed.

“Don't give me that. I wanted to come see you and… and I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” You could tell that it was really hard for her to say the last bit. “I shouldn't have acted the way I acted on Thanksgiving.”

“What happened, ma?” you asked with your arms crossed, “I know it's not because of Stephanie also practicing Wicca. And if it is, then I really don't understand.”

“I just… why are you still doing this? All of this? I get that you wanted to be closer to your grandmother so I let you do whatever you wanted–”

“You let me? You make it sound like this is some hobby!” you yelled.

“IT IS A HOBBY,” she animated with her arms, “Y/N, you are 26 years old. When are you going to move on?”

“This is ridiculous, I need you to leave,” you began to escort your mother out of your house. “No, I’m staying. This was my house–”

“No, it was Grandma’s house and now it’s mine. Goodbye, mother,” you closed the door in her face and turned against it to lean on your back. Your face was in your hands and you wanted to scream.

You checked the time on your oven and saw you still had 45 extra minutes to do whatever you wanted before you had to get ready to open the store. Since Blaise has been over everyday and you haven't opened up to him about your practice, you wanted to spend extra time to soothe all the negative and stressful energy that was building up inside you.

The closet hadn't been opened in a few days and once you were facing all your herbs, crystals, and oils, you immediately felt better.

“It's been a while, girls,” you spoke to yourself. You grabbed some oils, a sage and crystals to get ready. And you had lots of work to do.

—

“Alright, you are good to go,” Draco released a child with their parents. Work has since died down since the huge fiasco earlier in the month. There was still the question as to who and why it all happened, but he decidedly let it go for now.

Recently, he's been getting closer with you with small chats every now and then since the day in Manhattan. Draco deemed you as now ‘okay’ in his book. Your chats were simple but not bad.

One thing that for sure was odd was Blaise suddenly staying there every night. He never got an explanation, nor has he ever asked him. Blaise was acting kind of strange, but Draco liked to think it was due to being homesick.

Thirteen hours had passed and Draco’s day would finally come to an end. Ian and Ashley asked him if he'd like to join them on a drink, but he declined. Theo called him and let him know that Blaise was home, so he was going to drink with the two of them. He had yet to introduce his work friends with his best friends and was planning to before they went back to London.

As he pulled up home, he saw you sitting alone on your porch. You had a stoic look on your face and had a cigarette in between your fingers. Draco didn't think you smoked at all. He has never seen you do it once in the months living next to you.

He figured he’d just be a good neighbor and say hello. He walked over and knocked on the wooden porch to gain your attention. You were pulled out of whatever thought you were in the middle of and looked at him. “Oh, hi,” you greeted without your usual enthusiasm.

Draco went through his coat pockets for his own pack and pulled one out. He then realized that he didn't have one of those muggle lighters and tried to figure out how to light his smoke without magic like he usually did.

To you, it seemed that he just forgot a lighter so you pulled out yours and gestured for Draco to come closer. He leaned in and accepted it, “I didn't know you smoked.”

You chuckled to yourself, “Yeah, I uh, quit a year ago.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “You don't look like you quit.” He took a couple puffs of his cigarette and looked out on the street. You took a particularly long puff and slowly let the smoke out of your lips, “Well, when you have a mom like mine, you start up old habits again.”

“You’ve never met my father,” Draco commented under his breath, “She seemed nice when I met her.”

“She's nice to everyone but her own daughter,” you rolled your eyes. You let your cigarette out and almost started another one, but something stopped you. You leaned back into your chair and closed your eyes.

“Have you two always fought?” Draco asked. You kept at your position but opened your eyes. You gave it some thought before eventually nodding ‘yes’. “What about your father?”

The question seemed to have affected you; your eyes started getting glossy and your bottom lip quivered. Draco noticed. Should I not have asked that?

“He passed away when I was 12,” you sounded like your breath was cut short. Your hands reached up to cover your eyes and wipe away any tears before they could fall down.

As much as Draco and Lucius never saw eye to eye, he couldn't really imagine losing his father. Sure, Lucius was harsh on his son and always compared him to Potter, but Draco still cared about him. And he knew that Lucius loved him in his own way. Maybe you weren't all that different.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Draco consoled. You stood up to go inside. The weather was cold and your cashmere sweater wasn't doing you any good. “Thank you.” Draco let his cigarette out and told you ‘Good night’ before leaving.

Stepping down, he looked back and called for you, “Y/N.” You hadn't closed the door yet, so you looked back with your door held by your hand, waiting for whatever Draco had to say. “If you ever need to talk… I'm right next door.”

It surprised you to say the least. But it unexpectedly made you warm on the inside. “Thank you, Dray.” He nodded and waved before going home.

Inside, Theo sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen eating leftovers from the night before and Blaise was going through the Daily Prophet. “How was work?” the latter friend asked.

“Alright. Good to see you here for once,” Draco greeted. Blaise laughed without taking his eyes off the paper, “Can't a man be with his girlfriend before he leaves?”

“Ha, is that what you two are?” Theo teased from across the room with his mouth stuffed, “Look at Blaise; he finally settled down. Hell has officially frozen over.”

Blaise listed one hand to flip off Theo. Draco, however, felt a churn in his stomach. It was weird to hear Blaise call you his girlfriend. No one has gotten Blaise to call them that, but somehow you did it.

He wasn't really sure Blaise even knew what it meant to have a girlfriend, or even how to be a boyfriend. He never asked what they did knowing that he'd get endless teasing.

Draco grumbled to himself and went to his room. He changed into comfortable clothes and right when he was about to join Theo in the kitchen, he looked at his window for a moment. He peeked through his window and saw you through yours.

You sat on your bed with your legs up to your chest and your arms wrapped them close. Your face had no expression on it, but considering the conversation less than an hour ago, one could assume that you were sad.

“You fancy her, don't you?” Blaise surprised Draco, making the blond jump. “Merlin, Blaise, don't do that.”

“Well?” Blaise stood against the open door with arms and legs crossed. Draco rolled his eyes and walked towards the door, but Blaise didn't budge from his position. “I don't fancy anybody, now move.”

“I don't care if you do. But I do care when you lie to me. And yourself,” Blaise’s tone was threatening.

“Shouldn't you fancy her? She's your girlfriend,” Draco matched his tone. “Besides, if she was, shouldn't you be pissed if I did?”

“I do fancy her, but I'm not the one living next to her. Eventually, I'm leaving,” Blaise reminded his best friend. “So do us the favor and figure out whatever it is you want, or I'll find a reason to stay.” With that, Blaise left to his shared room and slammed the door.

What in Salazar is his deal? Draco thought. He walked up to his fridge and rummaged through all the containers of leftover food. I really need to learn how to cook.

Theo was still eating when he started talking, “Blaise has been pissy all day. What you reckon is his deal?”

“‘M gonna guess there's trouble in paradise and she's sick of him,” Draco jokes. His eyes land on the Chinese food from a couple nights ago and warms it up with his wand.

“Hm, as if,” Theo commented. He cleaned his mess up when he finished and turned to Draco. “Night, mate. Fingers crossed he doesn't yell at me and I have to sleep on the couch.”

“Night,” Draco replied and sat down on one of the high chairs. He thought a lot about you telling him about your father. He sat and wondered if you told Blaise. Maybe you even opened up to him about your… craft? Draco didn't know what to call it yet.

But he figured that if you did, Draco would be the first person Blaise would tell. And seeing as even Theo, the biggest mouth between the three, hasn't said anything, then that meant that you probably hadn't told Blaise.

And for a quick second, passing just as quickly as it came, he wondered if you would tell him first.

—

It was currently December 18th. Your dad's birthday. Usually you'd ride with your mother to his stone in Boston, but seeing as your latest argument was bothering you, staring at photos of him was going to be enough today.

You hardly remembered much about him since you were young, but you remember the good moments and some of the bad. The bad being the last of his days. His cancer was strong as it was caught too late by doctors.

The store was closed today per usual. You never had it opened on his birthday. Blaise was also at Draco's house. You'd ask him to have the day to yourself and when he asked why, you didn't explain.

Your door bell rang and you groaned, hoping it wasn't your mother again.

"Hey," your brother greeted you. "Y/B/N, hey. Come in, you're probably freezing." Inside, he took his jacket off and hung it on your coat rack. He sat on the couch and your cat ran to sit on his lap. "Sometimes, I think she likes you more than me," you chuckled as your brother gave her head strokes and she purred loudly.

"How come you're by yourself? We missed you today," your brother asked. You sat beside him and closed the photo book. "I didn't feel like fighting with mom again today."

"Y/N/N, I know she's hard to handle, but she needed you today," he reached out for your hand and squeezed it. "I needed you, too."

"Well, she has a funny way of showing it," you stared into nothing. You rested your head on his shoulder and wrapped your throw blanket over your shoulders. "Sometimes, I almost forget what he's like. His laugh, how he made Ma smile. How he smelled," you started.

Your brother was 8 when your dad died, so his memory was limited. But he still remembers how much he loved him. You both sat in silence, hands locked and the only sound being your cats purring.

"Mom told me you have a boyfriend. That true?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe? He hasn't said anything, and he leaves after New Years, so maybe not," you half-explained. What was Blaise to you? Did he feel anything when you were together? Was it just physical? You didn't know, and you never asked.

"Well, if he breaks your heart, I don't care where he lives. I'm beating his ass," your brother commented. You hit his shoulder and he laughed. "How's Steph? I haven't been able to call her," you asked.

"Oh. Um, we're taking a break." Your brother sounded sad. You sat up and looked at your baby brother. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I think Mom just spooked her. But I'll get her back," he sounded only partly sure of himself. You nodded and rested back on his shoulder. He stayed for a few hours; watched a movie and had dinner before he left back for Boston to see your mom once more.

When he left, you sat in your room and lit up some incense to calm your nerves. Out your window, Draco's curtains were closed as usual. Something inside you wanted to talk to someone that wasn't your brother, Blaise, or even Miranda and Bianca.

It wasn't that Draco wasn't the best of friends, but you had an indescribable pull towards him, and you wondered if it was the same for him.

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#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x muggle!reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy series #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco x muggle!reader #draco x female reader #draco x reader

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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Hey, I just went through your entire blog in two days only and I wanna say, your writing is astounding! I haven't had a chance to watch the show yet as I can't afford Netflix right now, but you're fics were a truly fine introduction to the fandom Much love and keep being awesome! ~M

It’s you!!! I watched you blast through my blog with likes and reblogs and was absolutely in awe of you. Thank you so much for being such an avid reader and supporter. You single-handedly made me smile so much. And because words of thanks never feel like enough, I give the only thing I can, a ficlet of gratitude!

Education at Kaer Morhen involved a lot of things. Different weapons, physical fitness, hunting, foraging, identifying poisons by scent, even sewing to mend clothes. However, there were a lot of things it didn’t involve. Things that a witcher couldn’t possibly need. Music was definitely one of those things, Jaskier mused because Geralt obviously had zero appreciation of the art. But other things too which were less about being cultured and more about basic skills.

There were moments where Jaskier suspected things but didn’t want to believe them, Put them down to Geralt being Geralt. He obviously preferred information first hand, always seeking out the alderman or asking locals where to find the poster of the contract. Sometimes Jaskier just watched Geralt in front of a board like it was the world’s greatest word search. At times, he’d skip over a contract and Jaskier couldn’t figure out why. But pointing it out usually had Geralt frowning at the piece of parchment and huff out something about it not striking his fancy (as if witchers could ever pick and choose amongst contracts) or it not being valuable enough (as if that had ever stopped Geralt before - the man seemed to thrive on helping the poor). A pattern emerged after a while though and Jaskier didn’t want to think about the implications. The contracts Geralt skipped over didn’t contain the words ‘contract’, ‘monster’, or ‘witcher’. Which led to some alarming implications.

It wasn’t something Jaskier could delicately raise, lead Geralt to realising he knew and wanted to help. Also, Jaskier couldn’t very well corner the man and accuse him of being unable to read. Because if he was wrong, Geralt’s allegedly nonexistent emotions would be very hurt. So, Jaskier did the simplest thing he could. Whenever Geralt went to look at a village noticeboard, he tagged along and pointed at random papers, reading them out loud. Once or twice he fudged up words but Geralt never seemed to realise that the advert Jaskier was pointing at was for a laundry service rather than for a tailoring service he was describing.

“Why are you pointing out such useless adverts?” Geralt snapped.

“Just thought you’d be interested.” Jaskier shrugged and plucked the contract Geralt was looking for from the board. “Here. This is the one you want.” It didn’t have any of the key words Geralt tended to look for. There was no thanks thrown his way and Geralt stomped off, the parchment clutched in a tighter grip than usual.

It went on like that, each time Jaskier got more and more certain he was right, Geralt couldn’t read.

“What do you think of this one?” Jaskier plucked a random advert and pushed it into Geralt’s hand who stared at it with contempt. It was advertising a littler of puppies from a good guard dog lineage.

“What about it?” Vague, carefully eyeing the advert but not acknowledging any of it. Jaskier’s heart broke a little. Given how often he had shoved the necessary contract into Geralt’s hand, it was obvious Geralt was trying to figure out whether it was a contract or not. The price in the corner suggested it wasn’t but the poor couldn’t always pay in coin. Sometimes other goods or services were written down which he would negotiate verbally.

“You’re not tempted?” It was cruel but Jaskier had enough of the song and dance.

“For so little?” Geralt scoffed, hedging his bets on Jaskier not screwing him over by putting something other than a contract in his hands all of a sudden.

Ever so gently, Jaskier took the advert and pinned it back up to try and hide the sound of his heart breaking. “You’re right. I don’t think there’s much for us in the village. Come on.”

They turned away but Jaskier saw Geralt turn back, a small frown on his face as he looked at the advert Jaskier had put back, clearly not understanding. Returning to their room at the inn, Jaskier knew he had to end the farce. He pulled a book from his bag and passed it to Geralt who stared at it, more disgusted by it than any kind of head or guts he’s waded through on a hunt.

“What’s this?”

“A book.”

“I know that. But why are you handing it to me?” Geralt set it to the side, not even glancing at it.

“Given we’ve got a bit of downtime, you’ve tended to your swords last night, I thought you might fancy a bit of a change. Does the title not intrigue you?”

A gruff “no” had Jaskier’s eyebrow raising as he sat down on the bed with a small smile. “You mean, a monster compendium is not something of interest?” He had picked it up a little while ago, intent on learning more about Geralt’s potential enemies, even if the book didn’t have all the facts correct, it was a good starting place. “Or maybe you’d want to go through it with me and correct the mistakes?”

Watching Geralt try and find a way out of it was painful. He frowned, frowned harder and ended up growling in his throat, turning away from the book with a moody “no”.

“I could teach you,” Jaskier offered quietly. “If you’d like to read.”

Silence stretched and Geralt’s back was stiff obviously coiled tight and ready to either fight or flee. “Since when has a witcher ever read a monster to death?” That sounded far too much like something Geralt had learned from someone else and all Jaskier could think of was a young Geralt being denied the chance to learn to read over and over again with such cruel and mocking words. However, it wasn’t a no.

Moving quietly, Jaskier grabbed the book and settled on the bed with enough room next to him for Geralt to join if he so wished. Cracking the book open, he began to read out loud. It took a minute but Geralt eventually joined him, looking angry and disinterested but Jaskier knew better. He was scared, terrified even, of being mocked, of being found wanting. Not breaking his reading, Jaskier adjusted his grip on the book so he could pull his finger under the words as he read them, letting Geralt follow.

They spent a few days like that, Jaskier reading aloud and Geralt watching, listening to how the words sounded compared to how they looked. Jaskier even picked up a few other books, much simpler, suited for children really. He swapped out to one of those books as they sat in a clearing in a forest, away from everyone and everything. Shoulder to shoulder, Jaskier got Geralt to haltingly grit out the sentence “the cat lost his hat”. It was perhaps the proudest Jaskier had ever been and the small, satisfied look on Geralt’s face was worth it.

Months down the line, when Geralt was able to sit next to Jaskier and read aloud from the book of monsters and laugh together about the inaccuracies, there was a soft lull. In fact, Geralt looked nervous as he pushed to book into Jaskier’s hands.

“I’ve got something for you.” Eager, Jaskier sat up, smile wide. He was expecting a kiss, maybe some oil for his lute or, if Geralt was feeling especially romantic, some jewellery. “It’s something I’ve been working on in secret.”

Reaching into his pack, Geralt pulled out a bit of parchment folded in half. On the front of it was a crudely drawn heart, obviously done by someone who wasn’t artistically inclined. It was shoved gruffly into Jaskier’s hands and he opened up what was a handmade card.

To Jaskier,

Thahk Thank yuo.

I lov yuo.

Geratt Geralt.

It was, without a doubt, the most precious thing Jaskier had ever been gifted, spelling mistakes and all. Because while he had gotten Geralt reading, it never even occurred to him that writing would be another skill to teach. All the education at Oxenfurt was something Jaskier had taken for granted until now. With Geralt by his side, he realised it was a gift, one that he was delighted to share with his beloved.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #illiterate geralt #tldr: geralt can't read and jaskier puts his education to good use

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blackguanabana · 2 years

Text

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 5TH 2021.

(Writen on Saturday 6th @ 12:42 AM)

This is how my day went:

- Had a bad night. Anxiety & overthinking hasn't been letting me sleep properly.

- Woke up early with an awful pain around the left side of my neck after sleeping for a few hours in the worst position.

- Went to a doctor's appointment. everything was fine except my cholesterol. No surprise. That has been a problem since i was a kid.

- Went to another appointment to apply for a job (This is their role. Helping others finding jobs that are available and.

- I arrived with the papers my friend told me to hand out. They told me I didn't had every document so they couldn't do a thing other than give me a list of all the documents needed.

- Went to Walgreens and bought a few things I needed.

- Headed home.

As I was about to write ''I wasn't as productive today as I wanted to be'' I realize now how much I punish myself mentally for not doing certain tasks.

I literally just went out to a doctor's appointment, drove to get an orientation for a social work job, bought things I needed, did laundry and prepared + fixed a couple of thigns from some art notes I'll be doing soon.

In my head, being productive is being super busy. Doing a lot of things at once especially house work (since I'm unemployed still and I'm mostly at home cause I'm done with uni. And by ''I'm done with uni I mean that I graduated already).

Some of these punishment and judgement and spot that I put myself in also comes from the juding coming from my own mother.

If I don't do like 20 things around my house, I basically did nothing at all. In my own head I gotta be busy and doing this and doing that AND THEN I can call it ''productivity''.

That's not even what productivity is or what it means. Reading a book and journaling can be productive. But I look at my agenda and I don't see a huge list of things I have to do, I feel bad. It feels like I'm not oding a thing at all. When I actually am.

And the fact that I'm not that mentally stable (lol) at the moment, how I'm treating myself on the inside (with this whole productivity thing) just makes everyhting worse.

This is the second time I've noticed. Now I gotta work on this part of myself while working with my anxiety.

The good news is that, though they couldn't give any info about the social work job because my documents were incomplete (thank you Egna *eye rolls*), I heard they offered baking classes.

Which is what one of the things I wanted to do since I was a child? An early teenager? Idk, but it's a thing I wanted for many years. I had an uncle that baked and he was gonna teach me how to bake, but he passed away many years ago. And nothing happened after that.

I stopped thinking about it for years and I completely forgot about it when I had to decide what I wanted to do in university. In a time when I didn't know what the fuck to do with my life.

It came back and I'm excited that they have available two spaces for new members/students. So I gotta schedule that very quickly and find the rest of the documents that I needed.

I would like to earn extra cash this way so that I can pay for my professional wrestling classes. I've already mentioned that I'm not so sure about the social work job, but I gotta know what positions they'll have for me and what they'll do with me. Because they were asking for psychology students with bachelors degree. But on the other hand, you gotta have a license for that.

Anyways, we'll see what happens. At least with the baking stuff I can turn it into a small business or find a job at a café or bakery shop. Let's pray that these manifestations come true.

The most important thing at the moment ar emy professional wrestling tainings (that I haven't start yet lol caus eI'm broke atm) and baking classes come number 02 on that spot/list.

🌱 SONG OF THE DAY 🌱

HOLY TOLEDO! - GREEN DAY

#mental health #bakery #studyblr #journal #lifestyle #broke college student #studyblr community #don't procrastinate kids #productive #productivity

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themonkeycabal · 7 years

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If you haven't already could you write something about Tony reading some of the letters Howard sent? Thnx.

Hi! Sorry my reply is late here. But, I don’t think I’ll be writing a specific story with the letters, but the letters will come up, and we’ll probably see excerpts. So, yes, eventually, my plan is there will be such a thing as you are requesting. Just, not quite yet, for reasons. ;)

It might be something like this:

The Garage was empty.

Well, the main floor of the garage was empty, anyway. Except for two cars, three motorcycles, a desk, three chairs, a pair of short, wooden filing cabinets, and a long row of metal shelves. There was a large tool kit for working on the cars, and one of the metal shelves had been repurposed to hold parts.

So, okay, it wasn’t exactly, perfectly empty. But, with the decades of crates moved out, the space felt a little cavernous.

Darcy sat at the desk, her feet up on the cracked leather blotter, kicking her toes together in an absent rhythm.

There was something heavier in the Garage, though, despite its apparent emptiness. And she didn’t mean the super-secret base beneath.

The below-ground base was sort of rectangular, stretching out back away from the street side, to under a grassy lot behind the building. Operations, the elevators and stairs of the main entrance, along with a handful of side offices were the front third. Labs and workshops occupied the middle third, and the far end were a few bunkrooms and the stairs to yet another, lower level. The main engineering works of the base were down there — water, sanitation, air, plus storage, and an emergency exit out to tunnel to a hidden, fake water pipe in an alley four blocks away.

It wasn’t a facility meant for a big crew. Maybe it could house 12 to 15 people all together for a few weeks. If they really, really liked each other.

She and Tony spent a number of daddy/daughter date nights upgrading, tearing out and replacing environmental systems, rewiring for a proper network, pulling fiber, and in general, making the secret base operational. For what, who knew.

While Darcy questioned the degree of her own paranoia at having a double secret hidey-hole, it was also really cool. Like a private treehouse. She and Rico always planned to have one, but neither of them had yards with trees big enough. It was a crushing realization to their 10-year old selves. Now … all this.

She’d have to actually remember to tell Rico, though.

Nobody knew the Garage existed except Tony, Bucky, Steve, and Peggy. And only Tony knew where it was. He liked that part.

So, he didn’t need to know she invited Bucky by today. But, her invitation had a purpose and she wasn’t sure how he’d take it. Not that it was bad, necessarily. Maybe.

It might not have been a big, elaborate structure, like the Playground, but there was still plenty to explore. When going through some of the side rooms, Darcy came across one full of furniture. Just desks, chairs, and some bunks, really. But off to one side was a footlocker and a large canvas bag. Atop the footlocker sat a folded piece of paper with her name on it; Darcy recognized Howard’s handwriting immediately.

April 29, 1970

My darling D,

I had the strangest conversation with Peggy a few weeks ago.

Maria was out at some art luncheon, the nanny was off sick, and I got stuck with Tony. I hope he grows out of it, but if you didn’t know, your father is a screamer. Peg was trying to distract him with a truck, and out of the blue, she asked if I knew what happened to Bucky Barnes’s things. If we’d given them to his sister, or what.

Well, I recall trying to pass them on to Miss Barnes years ago. She took a few things, small keepsakes — one of his watches, his brass compass, his flag, a medal or two, I think — but his old uniforms and such, that hurt too much, she said and she didn’t have the space to treat them right. She asked me to keep it all with Steve’s things, thinking maybe some day we’d put it all together in a display.

I told Peggy that and she insisted I pull Sgt. Barnes’s locker and duffle and set them aside for you; that you’d appreciate it. She wouldn’t say why, but she was pretty damned pushy about it; you know how she gets. I suppose maybe you two talked about him all those years ago. I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to know him; he was a good fellow and a hell of a shot. I was working on a rifle for him when we lost him. Damned shame.

I hope you appreciate these, and just so you know, I’m breaking up the collection here. But since the collection’s all going to you anyway, I guess you can get this where it belongs.

Make sure people remember, sweetheart. I’ve done my best to keep their memories alive, and now I’m trusting them to you. Don’t let them be forgotten.

All my love,HS

As ever, when she found one of these messages from Howard, she had to take a few minutes to breathe through it. She really did miss him.

Then she growled a little, because, he loved to issue his orders. It was sweet at first, but then every subsequent letter had some sort of little command or directive in it, and now she kind of wanted to throw things at him. But, of course, he was dead, so she couldn’t, and he’d probably known that, and basically, even after death, he was kind of a jerk.

Do this, do that, family legacy, blah blah blah. “I love you Howard, but shut up.”

Once she got past that little emotional whirlwind, she lugged the trunk and the bag out of the room and up to the ground floor. Then she called Bucky and gave him directions to the garage. And now she was waiting and staring at the trunk.

She was very tempted to open it all up. What would she find? Dirty laundry? Hopefully not — 70 years of stank? Gross, pass. Girlie mags? That would be hilarious, and she would give him so much crap. Would there be books? The trunk was heavy enough. Old letters from a sweetheart or two? He was popular with the ladies, back in the day, everybody knew that. Did they send him little notes with lipstick kisses and a spritz of perfume?

What would Bucky Barnes carry off to war with him? And what would he keep once there?

#my fic #darcy lewis #tony stark #howard stark #bucky barnes #thededleadragoria #fic bit

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