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ackerfics · 3 years

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so this is love — annie leonhart

— annie leonhart x female reader

— request by anon: I kinda have a request. How about royal au? Where 2 kingdoms are at war with each other, and reader is the heir of the throne of one kingdom (but they’re not the spoiled type of heir, more like the solider one?) and then the kingdoms decided a truce. Reader will have to marry the heir of the other kingdom which is Annie. Idk maybe those arranged marriages that they never get along at first? Kinda like they were enemies bc they never get along until some development of feelings happen along the way. Maybe Annie will realize that she has feelings when reader got injured since they’re a soldier

— warnings: mentions of war, slight angst if you squint, just two idiots falling in love with each other :))

— summary: you were sent off to another kingdom as a sign of a truce, promising to yourself that the engagement is close to death at how you got off on the wrong foot with your betrothed. it was hell at first but who knows? maybe, unbeknownst to you, the two of you are a match made by the gods.

— word count: 7.5k

— author’s notes: i am so sorry this came out so long :((( we just finished our exams and we have a case study to write as our midterm for a subject. i hope this will still quench your annie fic cravings. and by the way, i fashioned the kingdom of idylle to mondstadt because genshin impact is my stress reliever right now and a kingdom built upon freedom sounds like a gem. plus, the glass castle of the reader is based off of the castle of cinderella, which is the reason for the title hhhhhh happy reading !!!

so this didn’t appear in the tags so i reposted it :”(((

Corsets were abominations that needed to be burned.

The girl with your features staring at you from the mirror was someone you couldn’t recognize from all the preparations your chambermaid did on your figure. The make-up was appalling and thick that you could see a smear on the back of your hand when you tried rubbing your itching nose. Your hair was done in a half up-do with too many decorative pins sticking out, creating a makeshift crown of silver roses, one of the symbols of your kingdom. The dress your mother expected you in was straight-up ridiculous, you couldn’t move from the tightness of the corset and the heaviness of your skirts was hindering you from moving freely. You couldn’t even deny that it was a lovely gown but its inconvenience was irking you at the slightest turn or stretch.

Dressing up this lavishly was rare for you, the Crown Princess of the kingdom boring flags of silver and lilac. You very much preferred the heaviness of your armor and your title as one of your kingdom’s Commendatore rather than the ladylike image your mother has been forcing you on the past few weeks.

You were livid when your parents renounced from the ten-year war that was purging the continent with just a sign on a piece of paper — one that included your name and your honor. Everything was brutal, carnage dotting every town and village of the two kingdoms throwing spears and fire cannons, and you witnessed it all firsthand when you started being one of your kingdom’s soldiers four years ago — a sixteen-year-old girl throwing orders that gave you an advantage from your enemies wearing the crest of the kingdom that painted your lands a heart-wrenching red. Of all solutions that your parents and the other kingdom could come up with, it involved you in the most unacceptable way possible. Officially entering your twenties this year, your parents thought it necessary to offer you as a bride that signified peace to the warring nation right beyond the border. The idea made your vision red, an outburst coming out of your mouth mere seconds after the proposal was announced in the council meeting.

A soldier, a knight, a commander — that’s what you are.

Not some forsaken young woman ready to be shipped off to your rival nation because it was the only way out of this bloody mess.

You had no choice.

The only way for you to grasp the final moments in your kingdom was relishing the touches of the chambermaid and taking in the décor of your room — the small trinkets scattered on your nightstands, the books you escaped to, the jewelry that boasted the colors of your family, and the stuffed animals your nanny sewed for you when you were a toddler. You closed your eyes and let the feathery fingers of the people around you lull you into a prayer for the gods in their celestial thrones, asking for their blessing in this far travel. In the middle of reciting an ode dedicated to the goddess of divine bravery, you felt a cool pendant carefully slide over your collarbones.

Your mother’s face appeared beside the watery princess of the mirror, a forced smile pulling on the corners of her lips. Your distinctly colored irises flickered down on the necklace your mother placed upon the exposed parts of your body. It was a flower-pressed necklace, the gold plate carefully protecting the flower representing your birth. The golden chain holding the necklace together was so thin that you worried for a moment that the fragile piece of jewelry might break in less than an hour while you meet your partner-to-be. You met your mother’s gaze in the mirror — from a chivalrous princess of armor to a dignified queen ruling within a land of eternal spring.

“You look so beautiful,” your mother breathed your name, holding your arms tightly against her ring-adorned hands. Tears blossomed her eyes, trickling down her cheeks akin to the lavender flowers’ petals of the large white tree in your backyard. “You look like the queen you were supposed to be.”

You tried smiling but your wobbly lips made you falter. You can only purse your lips in a tight, flat smile as you face your mother, face set in a kind expression. “Please don’t cry, Mother,” you murmured, placing your palm on top of hers, squeezing it for reassurance. “They wouldn’t do anything to me.”

They, meaning the kingdom you were at war with, the nation that claimed they needed a bride for their Crown Heir. In your world, there was freedom even in marriage — with the kingdoms pairing their sons with the sons of their enemies all for the sake of a truce, especially if the two of them were firstborns. This is very much your situation at the moment. The kingdom of Idylle was a beautiful haven of songs dedicated to the god of the winds, very contrasting to their military power that could take down a good number of your soldiers. You heard stories from some villages in your nation that Idylle was a hoax, that they were bloodthirsty warmongers hungry for the spilled blood of the people of Glaieul, your kingdom. You couldn’t help but believe their words. That was the only addition to your knowledge of Idylle except for their battle tactics and placement of soldiers on the battlefield.

“We’ll pray to the deities that they will do just that,” your mother laughed a little despite the tears. “Or else your father will wage war if they so much scratched you.”

“He wouldn’t do that, Mother,” you shook your head with a slight smile. “You two have worked so hard for this peace treaty. If I ever scratched myself in Idyllic lands, trust me that it would most likely be my fault. Not theirs.”

Your mother’s laugh twinkled in the room, painting everything in a light that erased the heaviness shrouding in every corner of your chambers. “I suppose so. You and your love for your sword are unrivaled. I can still remember the time when you first got the weapon, you were so thrilled for a six-year-old that one would think you were born in the barracks. I have to admit, you looked adorable swinging your sword until the greeting of the night and its stars.” She wistfully sighed, looking down at the necklace she gave you. “Your father was so proud when you came back for dinner that night.”

“My sword has always been a lifelong companion. I will even bring it to their castle.”

Your mother placed a hand on top of her chest, over her heart. “I hope you don’t unsheathe it in front of their royal family.”

You breathed a laugh. “No promises.”

The two of you talk about all the things that happened in your childhood, your laughs echoing through the hallways. The maids and the butlers bade you goodbye and safe travels as you passed by, never forgetting to nod in their direction in acknowledgment. You will miss their company for they saw you grow up before you decided to partake in the war. Almost all of them fussed over the mess you made while practicing your swordplay, cleaning up the broken vases and the mud on the carpeted floors. Even one of the apprentices of the Keeper of Books residing in the palace, Armin, enthusiastically waved at you, his friends flanking him for a visit in the kitchens. You didn’t miss how Eren directed an incredulous stare towards the blonde man, with Mikasa looking shocked at how easily the apprentice interacted with you in a public setting since your times with them only happened behind prying eyes.

You gave the three of them a huge smile that gave their faces a pretty rose shade.

Upon reaching the foyer, your father stood at the foot of the stairs along with the soldiers you acquainted in your time on the battlefield, sending a wave of warmth through your chest. His silver coat lined with gold details was a beacon and his white breeches were tucked in a pair of knee-length boots. His chest was decorated with his sash full of medallions, the kingdom insignia of lilac gladioluses and silver roses pinned on top of his heart. The king of Glaieul softened his eyes, crinkles appearing at the corners, at the sight of you and your mother descending on the stairs.

“My little flower,” was his greeting to you when you reached him.

“Father,” you breathed, picking up your skirts to settle in the embrace of waiting arms. You buried your figure against him, inhaling his scent of pine and rosewater, creating the last memory you will have of him. The two of you pulled away for a moment, your eyes watering at the sad visage your father sported. You felt the lightest brush of his kiss on your forehead.

“Now I’m becoming reluctant in sending you off,” he told you. “I felt guilty when I saw you fight against this during the council meeting. But it is what they offered and I have no say in the matter.”

“I know.”

“May the eternal spring never waver in your soul.”

You nodded before taking a step back, bowing with your knees on the marble floors. Your crown glinted against the light from the stained-glass windows, your hair forming a curtain around your face as you replied, “I will let it fester among the ballads and idylls they will offer. I will carry the name of Glaieul with faithfulness, honor, and grace.” You raised your head to meet your father’s eyes. “I promise to never deter the eternal spring.”

It would be that way until your last years in that kingdom. And as you rode the carriage with the soldiers you fought with guarding the vehicle with their lives on the line, you could only sigh and offer another round of prayers that this swerves in a more positive direction than what you were expecting. After a hefty journey across the bustling capital (people stopped by and waved your carriage goodbye, offering you flowers that one of the captains of the fleet, Levi, scowled at — you coaxed him that it was alright, though) to the hectares of meadows in the countryside, the sight of flowers mixed with emerald turned into a sea of teal as you entered the outskirts of Idylle, your betrothed’s home. Everything was bathed with the endemic species of grass solely blessed by the god of the winds on Idylle — legends say that it was because He wanted the kingdom that worshipped him to look different than the rest. No matter how much you deny it, it was beautiful.

“How are you faring, princess?”

Your daze was interrupted by a baritone voice, deep enough to alert some of the men around the carriage. His gray eyes provided you support during the war. You couldn’t help but smile at the onyx-haired man riding by your right window. “Hello, Captain Levi.”

“Tch. Drop the title, brat. You and I both know that the war made us friends somewhat.”

You let out a small laugh. “Well, Levi, to answer your question, I’m quite fine even though my parents just sold me to gain peace.”

Levi rose an eyebrow at the remark. “I am not one to have the capabilities to comfort someone but think of this as a way for you to help the kingdom without sacrificing your life for once. A nation without its heir is just like losing its king. I’ve seen you train when you’re starting as a squire and to the point when you got the position you deserve. This would be like a small walk in the gardens of your mother.” He fixated his stare on you, eyes dull yet determined to get his point across. “You have a role in every part of your life and this time, this is what the gods crafted for you. Do not fret, princess, you have more chances of being on the battlefield again.”

The words Levi spoke settled in you until you reached the capital of Idylle, a small island in the middle of a clear azure lake with walls resembling a huge castle. The bridge leading to the gates was lined with guards bearing the kingdom’s crest, all of them standing under the flapping flags bearing the symbol and colors of the royal family they serve — a harp surrounded by the colors of gold and blue. Their eyes warily followed the series of carriages, postures becoming stiff in the realization that the entourage holds the visitor their rivaling country sent. That was still the scenario when the series of carriages and horses passed by the marketplace, the vicinity on the lowest part of the walled capital, as if the wind even ceased to let the people gawk at the brightly-colored entourage making its way to the highest tier depicting mansions and the main plaza where their patron god stood tall and proud in front of the palace’s gates.

Everything looked magnificent.

It was a breath of fresh air from the glass castle you grew up in. Whereas your kingdom built a white, blinding home that withstood for hundreds of years, Idylle’s palace blended with the brick walls with its leveled mansard roofs and turrets. The gates were made of gold, welcoming you into a huge square of maze-like hedges, a fountain sitting in the middle of the labyrinth. Some gardeners stopped their daily chores to greet the carriages with a wave of their hat, seeing as you were going to be an addition to the royal family after the wedding in a few months. The steps leading to the main doors loomed in front of you with only a few servants waiting for you to step out of the carriage.

You took in a deep breath, nodding at Levi to open the door. When it swung open, you placed your hand on top of Levi’s as he guided you down the propped steps on the side of the carriage.

“Well,” Levi hummed from behind you, making you glance at him with a curious eye. “May the eternal spring never waver in your soul, Your Highness.” He bowed in front of you, only a dip of his head, a firm hand on his heart, and yet that was enough for you to reciprocate it with a kind smile.

“Safe travels back, Captain Levi. May the gods protect you.”

The servant boys standing on top of the stairs jumped an inch in the air, going down in fleeting steps to get your luggage when they realized they were staring too long at you. You smiled at them in gratitude before stepping inside the palace as the guards opened the huge, gilded double doors in front of you.

The inside was just elegant as the exterior appearance of the entire capital. Everything was bathed in gold that seemed to rival the Sun and it made you look away for a moment. The grand hall followed the kingdom’s colors, from the turquoise carpets leading towards two winding staircases to the golden ceilings decorated with paintings of cherubs and the story of how their god of the winds came to be. One of the servant boys slightly cleared his throat, snapping you out of your curiosity of the myths laid on the ceiling. You turned to him with raised eyebrows, spurring him to whisper a faint, “Follow us, Your Highness.” They led you through hallways hung with tapestries and paintings, drawing rooms where the queen hosted her tea parties (Levi would have loved it), and ballrooms that have the same aesthetic as the foyer. Finally, you stopped in front of one of the apartments in the palace, the servant boy who told you to follow them brightened at the guard stationed there.

“Reiner!”

You waited patiently and let your eyes roam across the hallway.

“Hello, Falco, Udo.” The man, Reiner, smiled at the young boys before turning to you. He placed a hand on his heart and bowed. “Welcome to Gale, the capital of Idylle, Your Highness.”

“Thank you for the welcome,” you replied, motioning for him that it was quite alright to straighten his posture. “The palace looks lovely.”

“Indeed, it is.” Reiner opened the doors of your room and once again bowed with an outstretched hand towards the room. “Here are your chambers and I will be your guard for the entirety of your stay here in the palace, Your Highness.” You muttered a faint ‘thank you’ as you entered a drawing room with a door to the private chambers on the left and the bathrooms to the right. There was a table fit for two people, armchairs, and drawers with vases on top. A huge floor-to-ceiling window illuminated the room, your feet carrying you there to open them, and letting the wind caress the curtains as they danced in the breeze. “If you ever need anything, you can call for my name and I will be here in an instant. Your chambermaid will be up here in a moment to help you prepare for the family dinner. For now, rest well, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Reiner, Falco, Udo,” you smiled, retreating towards the private chambers.

You let out a sigh and stared at nothing for a few moments. It came down to this. To think that you were in enemy lands and was treated so well without any degradation came as a shock to you. The people so far that radiated negativity at your arrival were the guards stationed at the bridge and some of the townsfolk and nobles parading in the streets. As you think about the servant boys and Reiner’s calmness in receiving you in the palace, you immediately thought that it would be better than you expected.

You took off your heels under your dress, mind racing that this wouldn’t be so bad, and plopped on top of your canopied bed, its baby blue curtains protecting you from unknown disturbances and drowning you in a rapid of dreams.

The dinner didn’t go so well as you expected.

You donned a more suitable dress for indoor use, something that doesn’t include forcing your figure in a tight corset and yet presentable enough to be shown in the family dinner. You even placed a circlet of silver flowers on your head to compensate for the dull dress you chose, the description fitting after one of the chambermaids expressed their perplexity at how simple regarding design your dress has. Your light blue skirts fanned out around you as you made your way to one of the grand dining rooms reserved for family use. The choice of the color of the dress should be enough to express that you are willing to be on good terms with the family of the person you will marry.

But your first meeting with Annie Leonhart was interestingly disappointing.

Before departing from your kingdom, you learned the royal family and even Idylle’s customs. You learned how they always valued freedom and expression above all else, compared to your home that valued their ties with the gods more than the idea of getting rid of the shackles placed by your deities. You learned how they have this festival dedicated to celebrating the love they share with their patron god and how it spanned for half a month.

Finally, you learned about the indifferent Crown Heir of Idylle, the young woman with the piercing blue oceanic eyes sitting in front of you at the dinner table. She was known for building up walls that discouraged some of her engagements with other royalties across the continent. She was so closed off that she didn’t even glance in your direction for one second. Her hair was done in an elaborate bun wrapping around her head in a braid, her small, thin diadem resting against her golden hair. Annie kept her gaze on her plate, even playing with her food mindlessly for a couple of minutes before sighing and taking a bite of the chicken the maids served. No conversation was exchanged and the dinner ultimately became one of the most awkward meals you had. The king even tried to engage his daughter for casual talk but Annie dismissed them with a hum.

The queen had to apologize to you several times after the dinner, with Annie huffing at the back and eager to get out of the room. Despite how much she was against this engagement, you still bowed at her before you retreated to your room.

Now dressed in your nightgown, you stared at the canopy of your bed, already missing your home the more you fixed your attention on the bundled-up curtains. You badly needed to hit a straw dummy with your sword to let out your frustrations. Of all the royalties present in your continent, why did it have to be you that was shipped to this measly forced marriage? There were still so many solutions that could lead to a peace treaty but why was this the only one the kings and queens could present to their courts? A sigh escaped your chest once again at the thought of actually getting to know Annie. You laid on your side, curling your legs towards your chest and prayed that the god of dreams will visit you sooner than expected.

A knock reverberated through your chambers, the sound making you sit up.

You went to the receiving room and opened the door. You kept the small hitch of your breath in your chest at the sight of Annie and her half-lidded eyes. There was no one in the hallways. You figured that she sent Reiner away for some privacy, meeting the blue irises you likened to brilliant sapphires.

“What brings you here, Your Highness?” you asked, opening the door wider.

“Annie.” She saw how your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Call me Annie, we’re betrothed after all.”

“Of course.” You smiled. “Annie,” you tested her name softly, missing the way she inhaled too sharply at your voice.

Annie reciprocated the gesture by saying your name. The two of you stared at each other and it felt like an eternity before she looked away to focus on the receiving room behind you. She noticed how your eyes held kindness underneath the star-like shine even though she showed hostility during your first dinner with her family. Your hair was disheveled and it didn’t take her a minute to realize she might have woken you up from a good night’s rest. The journey from Glaieul to Idylle was a long one. You deserve all the rest you can get, “I apologize if I woke you up but I feel like I should do this before dragging it out.” You once again raised an eyebrow so she took out a leather box, opening it to reveal a ring with a holographic gem showing teal and pink in the middle. The Leonhart family ring. “Here.”

“Oh.”

You were gawking at the beautiful piece of jewelry, with Annie taking the matter in her own hands. She took the ring out of the box and pocketed the container. Her hand reached out to hold your palm against hers, sliding the ring in your ring finger. Your hand still hovered in front of you after Annie retracted hers to find their place by her side. She continued to eye your mesmerized visage with a half-lidded gaze, clearing her throat to catch your attention. You turned to her with a small apology for spacing out.

“It’s fine,” Annie waved off. “It’s yours starting today.” She turned away from you and went down the hallways but not before saying a “Good night, [Name].”

The entire week of your stay in Idylle was uneventful, to say the least.

Annie kept her distance from you after that night she gave you their family ring. It left you thinking that you should also gift her the [Last Name] ring your family treasured for centuries. The ring was placed in a small cushioned jewelry box that you opened and propped on one of your night tables. Your conscience was telling you to give it to her but there wasn’t exactly any moment alone with her let alone just passing by her in the hallways. The blonde princess made it her mission to never let your fates meet the more time you spent in the capital. You then decided that she probably didn’t want this engagement to happen.

But she gave you the ring. Wasn’t that a strong signal that Annie accepted you as her betrothed, unlike the others before you?

You shook that thought as you focused on giving consecutive hits on the dummy in front of you. Two days before, you proposed to the king to let you have a moment alone in the training grounds for about two hours or so to keep you in shape. He reluctantly agreed, but not without a side stare at the queen. They heard of your glorious feats during the war, how you managed to become one of the Commanders of a battalion of soldiers tasked with being in the frontlines and how you won constant ambushes against Idylle’s numbers. Two hours of training became three until here you are, still not stopping as you finished every single dummy in the private training grounds. With your day spent outside, you thought it would be nice to have a nice dip in the bathtub before dinner.

In your walk towards your chambers, you spotted Annie in one of the drawing rooms, sitting in the window seats with a book of war tactics in hand. You recognized the author as one of the revolutionaries mentioned to you by your tutor.

“That’s a nice book,” you couldn’t help but mention. Annie turned to you unfazed by your interruption though there was a glint of interest in her eyes. “The book mostly describes battle formations but I think the author likened it to every situation on the battlefield. For instance, the phalanx was native to the empire of Great Findara and it was great for preventing casualties until it was overpowered by the infantry tactic of the city nation of Khisfire where every man has a role and a weapon depending on their group. The latter was more on the long-range yet melee way of taking back the territory.”

Annie hummed. “Do royal tutors of Glaieul teach this to their students?”

“Oh, no. I learned it while taking on the role of a squire.”

She once again hummed. “It completely slipped my mind that you are one of the Commanders in your military. You were ruthless as the folks in the noble plaza say, blood tainting your hands from doing raids in the border villages of Idylle.” Her tone was like a jab to your side, like an arrow tearing through your skin. “I know it was a time of war and desperate times call for desperate measures but our people didn’t deserve to experience the massacres.”

“They were far from being massacres,” you gritted your teeth.

Annie scoffed. “Then what were they? Because that’s what it looks like to me. I can still remember the story two years ago of a young girl wearing her lilac cape in the bloodbath, eyes so dull that you can see your reflection on it. What’s to say that this engagement is a hoax plotted by your parents to assassinate my family for you to win a territory you greatly needed because of the resources?” She closed her book with too much force, bitterly spitting out the next words, “The apple doesn’t fall from the tree as the saying goes.”

“If you question my being here then why did you give me your family ring, Annie?” you asked, your body now facing the tense young woman by the window. You cursed at how the light made her look angelic like the girl the god of the winds sacrificed his life to before he ascended to the heavens. “This peace treaty is everything my family wanted even though hundreds of our soldiers died in vain for not meeting the ends of what they fought for. If you’re saying that my parents placed me in an undercover predicament to add to the weight of deaths on my shoulders, I suggest you tell your father to put a stop to our betrothal. Because I don’t even want to be here, Your Highness, and it would do me such a huge honor. I would rather spend my time out with my fellow soldiers than pretending I’m some dainty princess my family sheltered when in fact, I was anything but that.

“Have a good day and I hope you enjoy the rest of the book. Chapter ten was a personal favorite of mine,” you dismissed, turning towards the direction of the apartments.

Once you reached your door, Reiner straightened his posture, faltering for a second when he noticed the cross look on your face. He chose not to say anything as he opened the door for you. You took off your boots right beside one of the armchairs of the receiving room and immediately went inside your private chambers. The glint of the ring on your night table mocked you. You stomped over the furniture and forcefully closed the small jewelry box, throwing the container inside one of the drawers.

Maybe sleep will be much kinder to you, the sheets enveloping you in an embrace you wish your mother can only give in this time of need.

You were radiant under the harsh heat of the Sun.

Annie was scheduled to have a free slot in her timetable after being included in one of the court meetings regarding the resiliency plan of some of the villages in the borders that managed to survive the Glaieulian raids. She suggested that the villages should be moved to one of the more remote villages nearer the capital, where the terrain is suitable for growing crops and starting small farms. There wouldn’t be an issue with overpopulation because the recommended village was home to the elderly and children. The newly situated families will also aid the old people as they go about their mundane activities. It was a sound suggestion and her father was also considering it. Annie hoped that would be the case as she scribbled a small note on a piece of paper. After the meeting, she stopped by one of the windows overlooking the training grounds, and there you are.

Your small argument that happened a few days before stirred some guilt in Annie’s stomach.

You weren’t even part of the raids she was talking about. They were led by a commander by the name of Erwin Smith. The stories about you that she heard were from Idyllic soldiers that suffered a lot during the war, not from the people of the villages Erwin raided. Annie couldn’t deny it but she did step out of the line by accusing you of being an assassin. That was too far-fetched. She was just stuck in her suspicions when she was supposed to be getting to know you.

All she knew about you was that you were adept with a sword and can name any tactic written in books about wars.

Annie saw a maid cleaning one of the vases in the hallway. “Miranda.”

The maid turned around, curtsying in a haste before patting her uniform. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

“Can you prepare a tray of iced apple juice and some cakes?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Annie nodded. “And can you place this note on the tray and deliver it to [Name]’s room?”

The maid was taken aback. “Well, it would be my pleasure, Princess.”

“Thank you.” With that, Annie walked away without a glance back.

Curious eyes followed the princess’ form, the maid finding herself looking at your figure sparring with Reiner and a smile instantly greeted her face. This could be a turning point in the betrothal because she could’ve sworn Annie had a small blush on her cheeks at the mention of the other princess.

After your training, a tray of sweets and a pitcher with glasses of apple juice awaited you in your receiving room. You wanted to ask Reiner if he asked some of the chambermaids to prepare the afternoon snack but a folded note caught your eye. With one hand gripping the towel around your shoulders, you read the note, your face warming up at the short yet endearing sentence.

Indulge in these, they taste better after a good training session.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, you thought as you munched on a sprinkled cookie.

Her eyes kept following a trail of gold tulle, silks, and laces, never looking away the moment her blue eyes laid themselves upon a beauty that rivaled the goddess of oneiric realms, the most ethereal goddess of the heavens. You were dressed in an off-shoulder gown with loose sleeves reaching your elbow, the bodice carefully wrapping around your torso in the most flattering way possible, and skirts adorned with silver gems. In a sea of aristocrats with fabulous dresses, you were a sight to behold in this ball dedicated to commemorate the truce between Glaieul and Idylle as well as announce the engagement between the two countries. You were starlight personified, shining in Annie’s eyes under the lights of tens of chandeliers in the ballroom.

You were on the other side of the ballroom, laughing with your friends from your home kingdom. There was a tall brunette that seemed to be star-struck because of you just like Annie, a black-haired young woman who was smiling slightly, and a blonde who was engaged in an animated conversation with you. Your smiles were refreshing, to say the least, Annie seeing it for the first time since you came to their palace. Your laughs are genuine and it came out of you so easily when in the company of your friends.

Annie visibly stiffened when you turned around and smiled at her, gesturing for her to come to join the small huddle. Your three friends tensed noticeably at her half-lidded stare, with you reassuring them that she’s not that indifferent all the time.

As if sensing Annie’s hesitance, Reiner chuckled behind her. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to introduce yourself to them, Your Highness.”

“I’m getting to that, Reiner.”

A laugh came from the blonde man. “She’s good for you. That much I can tell. The kindest soul I’ve ever met in my life.”

Again, guilt pooled in Annie’s chest. Those words are the opposite of what she spewed out to you the last time you talked. She called you a power-hungry monster who ravaged the war with no care on your shoulders. She didn’t even apologize yet. Annie sighed, “I know.” Then, she pulled up her skirts, navigated the ballroom, and stopped directly beside you. Her blue eyes scrutinized the three people you grew up with, with the brunette and black-haired woman stepping a small step forward to assert their dominance while the blonde pinched their backs to warn them not to step out of line in another kingdom. “Hello.” She transferred her eyes on you afterward, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back and rubbing it in a comforting motion. “I hope you enjoyed the ball so far.” Those words were directed to you.

You only nodded with a smile. “Annie, this is Eren, Mikasa, and Armin. They’re my friends when I was growing up in the glass castle.” Annie nodded. “Everyone, this is Annie, my fiancé.”

“We know,” Eren, the long-haired man in a low ponytail murmured with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Eren,” Armin reprimanded. He smiled at a stone-faced Annie. “Thank you for making [Name] happy! I can sense that she has a different air around her while we talked. It must be because of you.”

Annie stayed quiet, her hand coming into a still on the small of your back. It was a good thing her left hand was hidden away because they would immediately think that you didn’t accept the engagement. She glanced at the ring nestling in your finger, a perfect match against the golden train of your dress. Realizing that she created an awkward stretch of silence, Annie could only nod wordlessly before shifting her attention to you again. It seems like you’re the only one who can calm her nerves down inside the vast ballroom. She never took her gaze on you even as you continued the conversation between your friends.

Her mind was fogged with thoughts of only you throughout the ball.

The two of you excused yourself from the trio when Annie’s father called for everyone’s attention from the front of the huge chambers. “Everyone, kind souls and pure-hearted people of the continent, since tonight is all for enjoyment, the waltz of the ball will now commence.” His blue eyes went to his daughter, standing at the side of his throne. “The moment everyone is waiting for — the first waltz.”

She rehearsed this too many times for when a proper betrothal comes into play but why is her hand shaking when she outstretched it in front of you? You must have felt it because you flashed a comforting smile her way. The two of you went to the middle of the ballroom, the guests staring expectantly at the birth of a romance. They were wrong because you hate her and she hates you. Right? Her hatred for you will never waver for killing her people even though you look like a descended goddess with the lights of the chandeliers raining on you. Hatred must be fueling her heart to beat faster than ever, why she seemed to trip over her skirts and how her words stumbled in her tongue. That must be it.

The dance slowly made its way to the part where she struggled, dipping you as gracefully as she can. Before it happened, you whispered to her, “Please don’t make me fall.”

Annie’s voice was soft, for your ears only. “I promise, my princess.”

It truly was a birth of a romance, the two of you unaware of it all.

“Come on, Reiner!” You shouted at him from across the training field. “Come at me with all you’ve got.”

The blonde man hesitantly shifted into position as he eyed you. “Are you sure, princess? I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He remembered the threatening look he received from Annie before this training session and he would like all of his limbs intact, thank you very much. “I just don’t want your chambermaid to nag me again after last time.” He managed a cut on your arm your previous session and you had to wear a long-sleeved dress in such stifling weather.

You scoffed lightheartedly. “I can handle it, Reiner. You don’t have to worry about it. Plus, I can dress my wounds perfectly.”

Reiner didn’t believe that. Your skills in covering up your wounds were lacking despite being a soldier. The most you could do was apply some salve on your bruises, that was it. He had no choice because the past month he spent his days with you, you were like a persistent little child that reminded him of his younger cousin. He hoped that you two wouldn’t meet. “Alright, here I go, Your Highness.”

Parry after parry could be heard in the private training field. You were doing fine in deflecting Reiner’s sword but your ankle immediately ached after shifting your body, leaning back to avoid the sharp edge of the knight’s weapon. You let out a huff as you dropped on the ground, jolting when Reiner called for you to stay alert. Seeing the glint of his sword, you rolled away and the pain on your ankle flared, even more, traveling through your calf. It also didn’t help that you received a cut on the side of your bandaged arm. You picked yourself up despite the throbbing pain on your ankle and arm, now being on the defensive as Reiner continuously struck you with his sword. He then circled his weapon around yours, throwing your sword on the side and pushing you to the ground with the tip of his weapon. That was the time where your ankle finally twisted into a sprain.

“Ah!”

“Princess?” Reiner’s tone became alarmed, dropping to your level and taking off your boots in an instant. His hands ghosted around your swollen ankle, not knowing what to do. “Gods, Annie’s going to kill me!”

“Annie?” You asked between pants. “What does this have to do with her?”

He only shook his head, carrying you in his arms and into the palace. His steps were hurried and the maids gasped at the sight of your red ankle. “Please prepare a bucket of ice and bring it to Princess [Name]’s private chambers.” He turned to you. “Hang on for a moment, Your Highness, we’re nearing your room. Just a little bit more.” Reiner entered your room and gently placed you on your bed. “I’m going to be taking off your other shoe, Your Highness.”

“Reiner, I think I’ll take it from here.”

Reiner stiffened, slowly turning his head to the entrance of your private chambers. Annie was impatiently standing with a bucket of ice in both hands, eyes glacially set on the blonde man kneeling on the floor in front of your confused form. She didn’t care if Reiner trembled in front of her. She vividly remembered telling the knight to never hurt you (she didn’t see the cut you had last training session because Annie was in another court meeting involving the incoming tax collection of various villages). Annie glanced at your ankle, barely grimacing at the state of it before gesturing for Reiner to get out of the room. The large blonde man took his leave, bowing at the two of your hastily and closing the doors with finality.

Annie mimicked Reiner’s position, kneeling in one knee to place your injured foot on her thigh. She didn’t wear any dresses for the day and it made her look dashing. The image implanted itself in your brain. Her hands are gentle against your skin, your cheeks flaring at the contact. Her features were contorted in a downturned one that showed how bothered she was.

“How did this happen?”

Your eyes settled on the top drawer of your nightstand. “I dodged Reiner’s blow and I twisted my ankle in the process.”

“You should be more careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

Annie scoffed. “That’s clearly obvious.” She said nothing more while dipping your foot in the ice bath. She lifted her head too fast when you winced at the coldness of the water. “Deal with it. We wouldn’t want this to be worse than it already is.”

“Thanks for the concern,” you dryly mentioned.

“What makes you think that my being worried is all fake?” You’re silent, Annie choosing the moment to continue the words she didn’t have any control over. “When the maids prepared this bucket of ice in the kitchens, I was out of the council meeting. When I saw then bringing this up to your chambers, I was alarmed and my mind was a mess of thoughts concerning what happened to you.” At each word, her face held a multitude of emotions that you never saw on her. Her lips became pursed whilst you wordlessly stared at her. “I am not pretending to care for you. How could I pretend when I’m already feeling foreign emotions when it comes to you? It’s my first time feeling this way so I don’t know if I can categorize this as falling in love. But it feels like it. So, for the love of the gods, can’t you see that I’m rambling because of you?”

You didn’t reply, instead, you reached out to the drawer where you kept that ring.

“What are you doing? You should be still right now.”

You pulled out the jewelry box and flipped it open, showing the blonde the ring fashioned in a vine, the centerpiece being a group of small gladiolus flowers with diamonds in their centers.

Annie’s cheeks reddened, flustered at the pretty jewelry. “What?”

Words never came out of you as you took Annie’s left hand. The ring looked pretty on her, the two of you admiring it after you slid the engagement jewelry in her ring finger.

“I now accept you as my fiancé, my future lover, and holder of my heart. Annie Leonhart, may our eternal spring bloom for centuries, and may your god of the winds bless us with his idyllic ballads.” Annie’s eyes were wide and you can see your reflection on them, along with constellations that lit up her irises. You placed your forehead against hers, looking straight into her flushed face. “They were right, this is the birth of a romance.”

And as you two kissed for the first time, the gods were rejoicing in their thrones, each of your prayers answered — your love finally etched in a whimsical melody.

#annie #annie leonhart x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #princess!reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk x reader #annie leonhart x you

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vannahfanfics · 3 years

Text

Worthy

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Shoto Todoroki, Momo Yaoyorozu

Hey, everyone! I'm happy to present the piece I wrote for the @todorokibigbang! Enjoy some TodoMomo wedding fluff <3 Also, be sure to check out the absolutely stunning art by my partner, @danyartime!

Shoto sucked in a deep breath as he straightened his bowtie for the tenth time in the last minute, using his reflection in the mirror to ensure that the wine red accessory hugged the collar of his white button-down shirt snugly. As his hands fell, they automatically itched to smooth down the nonexistent creases in the thick, sleek fabric of his tuxedo jacket. He smoothed his palms down his front anyway, until they met the band of his black dress pants. Just as he began to wonder if he should re-shine his shoes, he realized just exactly where his mind was derailing and smiled sardonically to himself.

Natsuo told me about the pre-wedding jitters, but I never imagined they would be this bad.

Of course, Shoto had no compulsions to flee the altar; proposing to his soon-to-be wife was the greatest decision he had ever made. He would happily give her his heart, his world, everything he could offer, and more without sparing a second thought. However, as he stood there fidgeting in front of the floor-length mirror, listening to his groomsmen bicker and laugh in the adjoining room, Shoto would be remiss to admit that he wasn’t nervous.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he was deserving of all this— friends and family to surround him as he passes into the next chapter of his life and a successful career as a burgeoning pro hero with a sound investment in an agency that he, Izuku, and Katsuki were slowly building from the ground up—all of which he could share with his beloved. After all the trials and tribulations of his young life, it all seemed so… easy. Shoto was far from perfect and had his regrets, so how could this wonderful life just have fallen into his hands?

As he ruminated, he smacked his lips, his mouth going uncomfortably dry, eyebrows furrowed as he sipped at a bottle of water. Shoto had never entertained these thoughts before—not when he graduated, not when he broke out as a professional hero, and not even on his worst days when he couldn’t save anyone—so it was mighty conspicuous that his subconscious chose now of all days to second-guess himself. He scrunched up his face as he tried to will away the anxiety gnawing at his insides.

Ever since high school, you’ve worked hard to become who you are now. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t enjoy the comforts you slaved for… he told himself, but it rang hollowly in his heavy heart. He drained the water bottle and tossed it in the trash, grimace not leaving his face. His tongue still felt bone-dry and coated with ash. As he paced the small room, rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs, there was a quiet knock at the door that led to the hallway.

“Hey, Sho, it’s us!” called Natsuo’s cheerful voice, followed by Fuyumi chirping a greeting. Running a hand through his hair and checking himself in the mirror to make sure he didn’t look too rattled, he hurried to the door and opened it. His elder siblings wore identical smiles as they looked him up and down.

“You sure clean up nice,” Natsuo grinned as he looped an arm around Shoto’s neck and tugged him down to affectionately ruffle his hair. “Look at you, so big now that you’re getting married, huh? Man, how time flies.”

Shoto grunted as he tugged himself away, indignantly smoothing down his hair. The strands were fine and ordered enough that he didn’t have to bother doing anything, but he didn’t want to meet his bride with flyaways sticking up all over his head. “Natsuo…”

“Hey, stud, not having any second thoughts, are you?” the white-haired man grinned playfully, nudging him with an elbow. Shoto blinked, floored by his elder brother’s sudden inquiry.

“What? Of course not!” he answered in bewilderment. Natsuo seemed entertained and had no implications that it was an inappropriate thing to ask.

“Good, good!” Natsuo chimed. He then glanced at Fuyumi as she began to sniffle.

“I can’t believe it… Our Shoto is all grown up…” she moaned and dabbed at the tears blooming in the corners of her eyes. “Next thing you know, he’ll be having babies and will slowly move out of our lives…”

Shoto turned beet red at the mention of having children. It wasn’t out of the question, but it certainly wasn’t on his mind right now, so it unnerved him a little to have it brought up in conversation. He swallowed the nervous nausea in favor of stepping forward to wrap his sister up in a gentle hug. He was taller than her now, so she could nestle right into the crook of his shoulder and cry.

“Fuyumi, I’m not going anywhere,” he laughed lightly. “You’re still my family. I know life gets busy, but I’m still going to make every effort to see you all.”

“Really?” Fuyumi gasped as her head snapped up. Shoto tried not to laugh at the black smudges of mascara under her eyes and smiled reassuringly.

“Of course,” he said before leaning down to kiss the top of her head. The sweet action made Fuyumi start blubbering again, and no amount of dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief prevented the mascara from streaming down her flushed cheeks. Natsuo led her away to the bathroom, trying to suppress his snickers as Fuyumi wailed about “what a good young boy Shoto turned out to be,” and left Shoto in the doorway.

What a good young boy he turned out to be, her words echoed in the dark of his mind. Though her words should fill him with pride and love, the only thing that rose up within Shoto was the cold emptiness of doubt. He leaned in the doorframe as his breath left him in a heavy sigh, and he stared at the place his siblings had rounded the corner. Fuyumi’s crying face flashed in his mind.

Why was she crying in the first place? Why would she ever think that I would abandon them? The notion made nervous butterflies flutter in his stomach. Had Shoto perhaps been negligent with his family? Sure, they were the textbook definition of dysfunctional, but after his first semester at U.A., he’d done his best to try to mend their fractured relationship. Had he not done enough? Did Fuyumi really believe that now that he’d found a wife, he’d just make his own little family and forget all about them?

He scowled as that irritating dryness returned to his mouth, making him run a hand over his lips. His entire family would be attending the ceremony today. He thought that was because they were there to support him, but could it be mere pretense? Or worse, did they all believe that after today they would see less and less of him until routine visits became replaced with excuses? He squirmed in the doorway as a pang of guilt began to prickle at him.

Before he could dwell on that unsettling thought, someone called his name from down the hall. He looked up to see the looming bulk of his father striding towards him. Shoto involuntarily straightened up, blinking as Enji came to a stop in front of him.

“Hello, son,” Enji coughed uncomfortably, tugging at the baby-blue tie tucked into his gray suit jacket. Shoto could tell that Enji was trying to hide his nervousness by the way he kept his head held high and the nervous twitches in his face muscles. Even now, after Shoto had grown into a young man, their relationship still had its strains, yet Shoto wasn’t petty enough to deny his father witnessing his marriage, so he’d still invited him. Enji’s eyes raked over him before giving an approving nod. “It suits you,” he said with a vague gesture to his tuxedo.

“Thanks.”

Enji shuffled his weight from one large foot to the other, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he struggled to gather his words. “Father, is there something you want to say?”

“I, uh,” Enji gulped and scratched at his close-cropped auburn hair. “I just wanted… I just wanted to tell you… how proud I am of you, Shoto,” he mumbled, voice dropping with every word. Shoto’s face blanched in shock, causing him to just stare dumbly up at his father. Enji continued to fidget nervously, fumbling through his fatherly dotage. “You’ve, uh… You’ve come a long way. I know that a part of you will never forgive me for what I’ve done, and I know now that the way I treated you was not right. I’m, uh… very grateful that you’re even allowing me to be here to see you get married.”

“Father, it’s not—”

“Please let me finish,” Enji blurted, going a little pink in the face. Shoto nodded respectfully, and Enji grumbled under his breath, “How should I say this?” He contemplated anxiously for a moment before continuing, “You’re a fine young man and a fine young hero, a better one than I ever could have dreamed of, and you did that all on your own. Even if I don’t deserve it, it’s an honor to call you my son.”

Shoto’s throat bobbed as it grew a little tight.

“Thanks, Father…”

“I know you’ll go on to do amazing things,” Enji said, seeming to relax as Shoto didn't outright reject his sentiments. He laid a large hand on Shoto’s shoulders. “You’ve made a promising career for yourself because of your hard work in school. Japan couldn’t ask for a finer hero.” Enji held onto his shoulder a second before he coughed uncomfortably and retracted. “I, um… I had better go now. Sorry if I interrupted anything.” It looked like he wanted to embrace Shoto, but he merely offered him a handshake. Shoto shook his hand, still slightly dazed from his father’s emotional speech, and then watched him head towards the entryway.

Enji paused and looked back at him with knitted eyebrows.

“Are you… Are you all right, Shoto? You seem tense. You aren’t having any second thoughts, are you?”

There it is again… Why was everyone asking that? Was that just a thing people asked the groom on their wedding day? Was it really that common for grooms to leave their brides?

“Of course not, Father. I couldn’t be happier.”

Enji nodded thoughtfully, staring at him a moment, before uttering a terse, “Good.” Then he was gone, and Shoto was alone again.

Japan couldn’t ask for a finer hero.

Well, Shoto certainly didn’t feel very fine right now. Shoto had to crawl his way up to the top alongside his classmates. He thought of Fuyumi, of how she’d cried and begged Shoto not to leave them. Maybe he was devoting too much energy to his career. What would the adoring public think if they learned that Shoto was forsaking all the important things in his life to be the best? They’d call him an egotist, for sure. Was that what he was?

Once again, he thought about how easily everything seemed to be falling into place. Could that be because Shoto was sacrificing other things in the process? Or worse, was this “vision” of his easy life all an illusion?

What if all of this isn’t as it seems, and I really don’t deserve any of it?

Just as panic began to pump through his system, he was jolted out of his thoughts by the door to the adjoining room slamming open. He whirled around to see Katsuki stomping into the room, his face nearly as red as the wine red of his boutonniere. The volatile blond was dragging Shoto’s best man in by the collar, clearly to complain about something he didn’t approve of.

Shoto raised his eyebrows as Katsuki slung a very frightened Izuku to the ground in front of him.

“K-Kacchan! It’s not that serious!” the green-haired boy whined as he rolled over to sit cross-legged on the floor and pout. Katsuki snorted haughtily and craned up his head, nose upturned so far that he was nearly looking at the ceiling.

“Idiot! I’ll never understand why this Icy-Hot bastard chose you as his best man! Do you know what this loser just suggested?” Katsuki accused with a sharp point at the sulking Izuku while he rounded on Shoto. Nonplussed, Shoto just shook his head. “‘Hey, why don’t we send Shoto to check and see if the girls are ready’?” Katsuki mocked in a high-pitched, squeaky rendition of Izuku’s voice. “Moron!” Katsuki yelled and leaned down over Izuku, hands on his hips while Izuku blushed and rubbed at the side of his face. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride? A best man would know that!”

“I just wanted to make sure everything was coming along well,” Izuku explained meekly. “If there was a problem, I wanted to make sure we knew about it and could plan accordingly…”

“Then send one of the other extras, not the fucking groom!”

As the two began to bicker back and forth, Shoto sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. Honestly, he should have known better than to stick the two in a room together, but their venue didn’t really give them a choice. It was an antiquated millhouse fashioned into a wedding venue; the bridal party dressed in a small suite upstairs from the main floor where the wedding would be held, while the men prepared in a small, two-room shack next door. They’d been charmed by the rustic and quaint nature of the venue, as neither of them wanted a grand affair of their wedding, but Shoto was beginning to wonder if perhaps they should have opted for somewhere with more space and privacy…

“Enough,” Shoto barked as his frustration reached a boil. Izuku and Katsuki both stopped mid-chatter to look at him with wide eyes. “I appreciate the sentiments, both of you, but I would rather not quibble on my wedding day, thank you.” He sagged a little as the weariness began to take its toll. Arguing was really the least of his problems right now, considering he was shouldering an existential crisis. Izuku and Katsuki both looked at each other before squinting at him suspiciously.

“Hey, you all right, man?” Katsuki asked.

“You seem tense, Shoto. Are you okay? You’re not getting second thoughts, are you?” Izuku gasped worriedly. He shot to his feet to grab Shoto by the shoulders. “Please don’t tell me you’re considering calling off the wedding! Don’t worry! Lots of guys get nervous with this kind of commitment! But please, remember that you love—”

“Izuku,” Shoto interrupted with a weary smile and gently pushed his friend in the chest. “I’m not having second thoughts. Please don’t worry about that.” As Izuku deflated in relief, Shoto wondered if he should tell his friends about his real doubts. After a microsecond of consideration, he decided not to. Katsuki would probably just tell him to man up, and Izuku would go on an entire blabbering speech, and that’s not really what Shoto needed right now. Smiling thinly, Shoto placed his hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “I’m all right, really. There’s just been a lot of planning and preparation today, so I just want things to go well.”

“Right! Of course! As your best man, that’s my job! I’ll go right now and make sure everything is in order, okay? Don’t you worry, Shoto, I’ll make sure this goes off without a hitch!”

Before Shoto could insist that it really wasn’t necessary, the green-haired boy had zoomed off, untied dress shoe laces flapping behind him. Shoto looked after him with a small chuckle. Izuku had always been a bit flighty, but he really was an invaluable friend to him, so that’s why he had been the obvious choice for Shoto’s best man. He couldn’t imagine anyone else standing next to him when he greeted his bride at the altar.

The doubt crept up into his mind with its poisonous whispers. Izuku was a good friend, but did Shoto deserve a friend like that? Had he even come close to repaying all the things that Izuku had done for him? The smile fell from his lips as the cold guilt flushed through him once more.

“Oi.”

Shoto looked at Katsuki with unfocused eyes, still half-brooding. Katsuki’s crimson eyes thinned into small slivers as he squinted suspiciously. “Seriously, Icy-Hot, are you okay? You don’t… seem like yourself,” the blond asked slowly.

Shoto’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Katsuki was as prickly as his wild hair, so to have him so readily show concern and inquire about Shoto’s wellbeing definitely dragged him out of his stupor. Again, Shoto debated whether or not to come clean about the disordered mess that was currently his mind.

Shoto had never been much of a fibber, but for some reason, the lies rolled so easily off his tongue today.

“As I told Izuku, I’m fine,” he said smoothly, feigning a grateful smile. “I think all the wedding planning just caught up to me at once, that’s all. I’m sure if I just take a moment to relax and gather my thoughts, I’ll be alright. We still have plenty of time before the main event.”

Katsuki continued to eye him with his lips parted in a skeptical pout, but instead of prying, he just slowly nodded his head a few times.

“All right. If you say so. I’m gonna go make sure that loser doesn’t mess anything up,” he decided, brushing past Shoto to walk to the door. He paused on the threshold to toss a blank stare over his shoulder. “Don’t think too much. You’ve always been the type to get too in your head,” he advised before continuing after Izuku. Shoto went to step after him, hand raised, but Katsuki was already gone. His arm flopped back down to his side as he released a shaky breath.

“Maybe I am thinking too much…” he murmured to himself.

He’d like to convince himself of that, but that little beast inside him just snickered. Are you sure that’s not just another one of your lies? it taunted. He rubbed his neck as that ash-choking feeling returned, his body trembling with a few tight coughs. Izuku and Katsuki both seemed so concerned for him… Did he really deserve that concern? Maybe they weren’t really even concerned about him, but were more worried he’d take off and leave his fiancé a shattered, sobbing mess at the altar. Had Shoto been selfish in his friendships?

Had he been selfish in his relationship? Everyone kept asking the same question… What if they could see that selfishness and were on edge because they all kept thinking that he couldn’t stick it out, that he was too self-absorbed? Shoto’s breaths began to come in terse, ragged gasps as he spiraled into a self-esteem crash.

What was wrong with him? Why was he thinking like this? He pawed at his head with a small groan. Nothing made sense; everything was swirling around in his head like a whirlwind. He stumbled out of the doorway and slammed it shut in front of him before collapsing against it. The painted wood was cool against his flushing face.

Breathe. Breathe, he tried to calm himself, gulping down air.

It burned; his throat felt like it was drying up into a desert. Just as he stumbled into the center of the room, blearily looking for water, there was a soft knock at the door. It rang in his pounding head like a death knell. He clenched his teeth as he struggled to come down to earth instead of rocketing himself into the stratosphere.

I need… I need to calm down…

“Shoto?” his mother’s voice timidly called. Her soft-spoken tone sliced through the layer of anxiety clouding his mind, allowing him to descend back to reality. He closed his eyes as he composed himself, steadying his ragged breaths and slowing his heart rate. That’s right… I can’t… I can’t let her know I’m like this.

After he was confident he was presentable, Shoto crossed the floor in a few quick strides to open the door for her. Rei smiled sweetly up at him before her slate-gray eyes dropped to admire the way the tuxedo accented his muscular form. She ran her small hands down his sleeves before linking her fingers with his and giving them a gentle squeeze. He hoped she didn’t notice that they were trembling. “You look so handsome,” she praised, looking back up at him lovingly.

“Thank you, Mother,” Shoto smiled. He walked backward into the room, tugging on his mother’s fingers so she would follow, and Rei gently shut the door behind her. She walked to the floor-length mirror to inspect her own look— a baby-blue dress patterned with white flowers tied together with white flats and a baby-blue headband. “You also look lovely,” he added while retrieving another bottle of water from the mini-fridge in the corner. Rei hummed gratefully at his appraisal, watching him guzzle half of the plastic bottle through her reflection.

“Are you nervous, dear?” she asked abruptly. Shoto flinched in surprise, which made him lurch forward and spill water down his windpipe. He spluttered and coughed, eyes watering at the burning sensation overtaking his throat, while Rei turned around to look at him in concern. As he wiped the stream of water and spit from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, he debated lying to her. However, all notions of that flew out the window when he caught her soft, motherly gaze. “It’s natural, dear,” she reassured as she walked over to him.

Lie. She doesn’t need to know, chimed that anxious beast. It was tempting; Shoto could feel the excuse forming on his tongue. Except… no words came out. He looked helplessly at her, causing her expression to morph into one of intense concern. Shoto didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want to feel this way— selfish and egotistical and undeserving of his life.

His life with her.

“Shoto. Tell me what’s wrong,” she ordered, her voice just firm enough to abolish any remaining ideas of lying to her.

Shoto exhaled deeply and sagged down onto the small sofa next to the fridge. His mother could read him with scary precision, so there really was no use lying, anyway. She stopped in front of him to weave her slim fingers into his two-toned hair, and he responded by leaning forward to press his forehead into her belly. Rei softly scratched along his scalp in rhythmic, soothing strokes, and though she really hadn’t said anything, even the action alone made Shoto relax just the tiniest bit.

“What’s bothering you?”

He expected her to ask him if he was having second thoughts, just like the rest of them—but she didn’t. Shoto swallowed thickly before answering in a tiny voice. “I just realized how lucky I am, and I’m not quite sure I’m deserving of it.”

“What makes you say that, my love?” she questioned. Shoto pushed himself further into her stomach, comforted by her soft, soothing presence. Yet all the while, something nickered in the back of his mind. You abandoned her for years. You don’t deserve her comfort. Sickened by the thought, Shoto pushed himself away, grabbing a throw pillow to bury his face in it instead. He heard Rei softly gasp; then, the couch cushion dipped beside him as she tentatively sat down. He curled around the throw pillow, stomach whirling as all his anxieties came to a boil.

“Shoto,” she whispered and laid a gentle hand on the small of his back. “Talk to me, Shoto.”

Even though he had rejected her in favor of the pillow, he found himself falling against her. She held him close as he curled against her side. He was so much bigger than her now, but he still felt like he fit naturally into her petite frame. Slowly, he pried his face away from the pillow to reveal that the fabric had darkened with tears. He looked at her brokenly, the salty droplets rolling down his cheeks.

“Am I selfish, Mother?” he asked hoarsely, horrifiedly. Surely he must be, if everyone kept asking him if he would turn tail and run. “If I’m selfish, and am turning everyone away, then won’t… won’t I end up pushing her away and breaking her heart?” Just the thought of it broke Shoto’s, shattered it into a million little pieces. The love of his life, his dream, his salvation—the thought of doing that to her made him want to die, and the thought that he was already well on his way there made him want to die right now.

“Shoto, sweetheart,” Rei breathed and pulled him into a crushing hug. Shoto squeezed his eyes shut and buried himself into her, breathing in her scent of floral perfume and ice water. She kissed the top of his head before resting her cheek against it. “You are not selfish. What on Earth has gotten that into your head?”

“I just… Everyone keeps asking if I’m having second thoughts. Fuyumi was really upset thinking that I won’t be around anymore, and then Father came to talk to me about how far I’ve come as a hero, and then Izuku and Katsuki were worried about me, and—” he sucked in a breath after everything came tumbling out, trying to sort his disordered thoughts. “I just… Everything seems like it’s falling into place, and I just can’t help but think that it shouldn’t be. That it’s too easy, and because of that, I must be messing up somewhere, right?” As he looked at her, conflicted, Rei smiled reassuringly and brushed a strand of his red-and-white hair out of his face.

“Shoto, honey, you deserve everything you’re being given. If I can’t convince you of that, though,” she smiled mischievously and gestured at the door with her chin, “maybe she can.”

A blush exploded up from Shoto’s neck to flush all the way to the crown of his head. He grabbed the pillow and smashed his face into it, flopping across Rei’s lap to smoosh down into the couch for good measure. His mother laughed at his overreaction, barely masking the click of heels over the wood.

“Shoto?” came the tentative voice. What is she doing here? He thought, heart pounding in his throat.

“Sorry,” he heard Izuku say meekly. “Shoto was just so out of sorts… I thought the only one who could snap him out of it was her…”

“Idiot! Didn’t I say it was bad luck?” Katsuki scolded. Shoto heard him huff and the creak of the pressed fabric of his tuxedo as he crossed his arms. “But, Icy-Hot is acting pretty weird today… All right, do your stuff.”

Shoto just squirmed uncomfortably, listening to the ruffles of the lace and the soft click of heels as the woman he would be meeting at the aisle in another hour or two stopped beside him.

“Shoto,” Momo said, the laughter evident in her voice. God, he loved her voice. It was like a song, high and sweet. “Honey, what’s the matter?”

“Can’t look,” he mumbled evasively. “Bad luck.”

“You don’t have to look at me, then,” she chuckled, reaching down to soothingly run a hand over his back. He found himself arching a little into her touch, calm spreading through his nerves. “Just talk to me, sweetie.” Her white gown ruffled as she kneeled down on the floor beside him. Shoto dug his fingers into the pillow, wondering if there was a way out of this mortifying situation. There wasn’t, and he really didn’t want an out, anyway. She continued to stroke down the length of his spine. “Shoto, honey, you know you’re not selfish, right?”

The silence told Momo all she needed to know. She exhaled deeply, and he didn’t have to look at her to know she was wearing that sweet, loving smile she always wore when she comforted him. “Let me tell you something. Not for a single second have I felt neglected, nor have I had any inclination that you were sacrificing your personal life for the sake of your career,” she iterated slowly. Shoto squirmed as her reassurance battled with the poisonous beast inside him.

“Maybe I haven’t done it to you yet, but… What about my friends and family?”

“Boys?” Momo asked, presumably looking at Katsuki and Izuku. “Have you ever felt like Shoto hasn’t been a good friend?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Izuku blurted. “You’re an amazing friend! I can always count on you to be there when I need it, no matter what we’re doing.”

“Yeah. If anything, he can shove off, the Icy-Hot bastard.”

“Kacchan!”

“What? He’s up our asses all the time!”

“That’s because we’re partners, Kacchan! We’re gonna open up our own agency, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean he has to show up at my house for some stupid soba party he decided to have without telling anyone!”

Shoto found his lips curling into a tiny smile into the pillow. It was a shame that bickering was so familiar, and so comforting. Momo giggled sweetly and patted him on the back.

“See, honey? Your friends certainly don’t think you’re selfish and pushing them away.”

Although it was a start, Shoto couldn’t help but think of his sobbing sister.

“But… Fuyumi…”

“Shoto, that isn’t what Fuyumi meant at all,” Rei chortled and rubbed the back of his head. “Fuyumi just felt like a mother bird watching her chick leave the nest… Women get emotional over things like that. Your sister—and the rest of us, for that matter—all know you love us very much and want to stay an active part of our lives. I’ve enjoyed every minute of watching you grow into a man, and have never felt like you were abandoning me. You’re growing up. That is a reality we must face, and sometimes… It’s a little tough for us, that’s all.”

“That’s right,” Momo seconded. “See? We all love you, Shoto, so much. Please don’t ever think that you’re selfish, because you’re far from it.” He felt his eyes water as the emotions caused her voice to crack, indicating she was on the border of tears. Though he couldn’t look at her like he wanted to, he groped blindly in the air, searching for her hand. Momo caught it in both of hers to give it a tight squeeze, then pressed a lingering kiss to his knuckles. “Every day I’m thankful that you’ve chosen to love me,” she murmured against his skin, and he felt her tears drip down onto his hand. “My selfless hero.”

“Momo,” he groaned. When she hummed against his hand, he smiled weakly. “I appreciate you coming to cheer me up, but if you don’t leave now, I’m going to have to commit some wedding taboo.”

Momo laughed heartily, uttering small “okay’s” between her giggles, and slowly stood up. His fingers skimmed against the soft fabric of her lace skirt, and he found himself extraordinarily tempted to peek; but he didn’t. He knew that it would be a feeling like no other when he saw her walking down the aisle, so he just had to wait a little bit longer.

“Thank you both for looking out for him,” Momo said to Katsuki and Izuku as she left. “I’ll see you soon!”

Shoto waited until the clacks of her heels faded before he slowly sat up, rubbing at his tear-sticky face. Rei looked at him with a loving smile.

“Do you feel better, sweetie?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded with a sleepy smile. Having an existential crisis sure was exhausting. Still, his nerves soon began to buzz with the anticipation of what was yet to come. “How long until the ceremony?” he asked, looking expectantly at Izuku and Katsuki.

“About forty-five minutes, but it doesn’t matter, because there’s no way in Hell I’m letting you walk out like that. Get your ass in here!” Katsuki growled as he marched over and snatched him up by the collar. Shoto could only stumble after him as he was dragged into the groomsmens’ room, while Rei and Izuku both looked on laughing.

Forty-four minutes later, Katsuki had combed his messy hair back to submission and managed to erase almost all evidence of his puffy eyes and teary cheeks.

Now, Shoto stood rocking on his heels in front of the steel altar woven with ivy, wine-red roses, and white dahlias. Momo’s bridesmaids— Ochako, Mina, Tooru, and Tsuyu—were across the altar on the left, while Shoto’s groomsmen—Katsuki, Tenya, Inasa, Kirishima—and his best man Izuku were behind him to his right. Stretching out before him were rows of chairs, each one filled by someone special in his and Momo’s lives. Their families sat in the front row with bated breath. The ceremony was held in the main room while the reception would be held in an adjoining one—and in between them was a winding spiral staircase that Momo would be walking down any moment.

Shoto straightened up as the pianist began to play. His heterochromatic eyes were fixated on the staircase and his breath stilled in his chest. He caught the flash of her heel first, then the ruffles of her lace skirt as she slowly began to descend from upstairs. Shoto’s mouth gradually fell open as she came down from the heavens like an angel, here to grace his undeserving mortal self with her rapturous love. She was chuckling quietly to her father, who held her arm as he guided her down the steps. Kyoka came down last, carrying the long train of Momo’s dress.

He had been right to wait. It was a gorgeous sleeveless mermaid gown that hugged her beautiful figure in all the right ways. A swathe of wine red cut the skirt in half and adorned the bodice of her dress in thin, swirling threads that looked like roses. Her soft tresses of black hair were piled above her head before falling down in luscious curls to frame her face. A tiara was tucked into her hair, securing the sheer white veil cascading over her. She held a bouquet of white and red flowers as she slowly walked down the aisle, which had been laden with rose and dahlia petals by the flower girl. Even through the veil, Shoto could see her brimming with joy just by the aura radiating off her.

When she stopped next to him, giving her father a kiss on the cheek before he left to sit with the rest of the audience, Shoto could only gape in pure awe. He didn’t even register the priest speaking.

“Honey,” Momo laughed quietly. “You might want to pay attention.”

“Right,” he said and snapped his mouth shut, blushing as a few of the wedding party snickered and elbowed one another. His gaze snuck back to his beautiful bride, the love of his life, who stood so patiently waiting to read her vows. When she felt him staring, she smirked and looked at him out of the corners of her eyes.

“What?”

“I’m just realizing how lucky I am,” he explained softly. She looked at him with a confused smile. “I get to share this life I’ve made with the most wonderful woman on the planet. I thought at first I wasn’t worthy of it, but now… I’ve realized.”

“Realized what, Shoto?”

“Why I worked so hard for a life like this to begin with. I wanted to become a man deserving of your love, Momo,” he explained, reaching out to gently ghost his fingers over hers. “I’m just really glad to hear that you think I’m worthy.”

“Silly,” she laughed, tears slipping down her cheeks and clinging to the sheer lace of the veil. “You’ve always been worthy.”

Maybe that’s the way she felt. It was just a testament to how beautiful she was, right down to her soul. But now, after this whirlwind of a day, Shoto could rest easy knowing that he really was. Because she was his angel, his goddess, his salvation, and his life, and she was worthy of everything he had to give her and more—and he would work tirelessly every day to live up to that, to keep himself worthy.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#todomomo #shoto x momo #momo x shoto #momo yaoyorozu #yaoyorozu momo #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto #todoroki x yaoyorozu #yaoyorozu x todoroki #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero

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sly-merlin · 3 years

Text

T h e E n c h a n t e d C a n v a s

Pairing :: doyoung x reader ft simmi and her moots

Word count :: ~4k

Genre :: Hogwarts soulmate strangers to ?? Fluff

Synopsis ::

Y/n , a muggle is called to Hogwarts not because of her exceptional talents but due to the fact that her soulmate is a pure/half blood studying in Hogwarts. Her destiny takes her from an average household to the enchanting world of spells and charms. Would she found the one she sought? or sh’d end up losing herself in the new world!

A/n :: this is a Christmas gift for lovely nini - @dvrlingrenjun under @neoculturechristmas event. Thank you admins for letting me talk to her. And nini!! I'd be happy if you enjoy this even a little bit. I hope you can get some time out from your responsibilities to relax and then we can cry over twice's beauty!! MERRY CHRISTMAS NINI.

With love ,

From simmi(stocking anon)

tagging :: lovely @danishmiilk ( warning :: donot expect too much) @astroboy-lele (oops! i opened discord and just remembered i was supposed to tag you furou! sowy)

networks :: @neowritingsnet @kafenetwork @nct-writers

thank you aria @adamfoolcry for hyping me up!!!

"A MAGIC SCHOOL?DO I LOOK LIKE A FOOL TO YOU?" you screamed at your parents, their pleading eyes instantly making you guilty.

"Darling! That woman showed us what she's capable of. You can go and learn and it's not like you have much of an option." Your father said, caressing your arm.

They were right. The woman, who called herself the professor of Hogsy or something school, had explained to you the two tier unscripted path of your future. The first thing being that you were invited to study at an elite magic school, the evidence of which was provided by summoning your sketchbooks from your room. Second being, your soulmate was a boy of the magical community so you,inevitably, were a part of it and there was no escape from it.

"I don't want to leave you alone!" Tears threatening to fall, you requested your parents.

"Please sweetie. Don't make this harder than it already is. We do not have enough money to provide you with quality education. At least you are getting a chance to improve your life. Do not let this chance pass because of us. Besides it's like a boarding school. That lady did say you'd be visiting us twice a year and that too for two whole months! I see no harm sweetie. You possibly cannot refuse your soulmate right. They need you as much as you need them. So go and live your life. Make your parents proud!"

Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry,

Year - third

"Then the battery is placed in this small compact space in a very specific way to make the clock work. This small cylindrical unit called battery has very complicated working so we'll discuss that next week. And this week,I won't be bothering you with any homework so go and enjoy. Have an enchanting day." Your professor dismissed the class with a brightening smile.

"Y/n" she called as you were packing your bag.

"Yes mam?" You asked her, hands respectfully crossed in front of your skirt.

"I just wanted to say thank you so much for the automated battery clock that you got. The ones we have are very old and it's a long and tiring process to ask for new ones. Do know how delighted i am to have you in my class. I'm glad you chose muggle studies as elective." She smiled at you and you bowed just a bit to show your gratitude and walked outside for your other classes.

Being a ravenclaw was all about wisdom, intellect, being sharp minded and laced with logic and creativity or this was what the book that prof McGonagall gave you read. The almighty sorting hat, the pillar on which walls of Hogwarts stood, had placed you in ravenclaw. Though the hat did contemplate between every single house, you ended up with ravenclaw. You believed neither in the semi-animate object nor the popular saying that Sorting hat knows you better than you do yourself for you failed to find your own kind. The smart ravenclaws were too bright for you. It didn't help that you were the only muggle in your year. You weren't able to keep up with them and if it haven't been for willy, your only friend in ravenclaw, you'd have ended up going home,without finding your destiny. Not that you were any better at the moment but life was fun with willy and aria, your hufflepuff friend.

But nothing remains stationary right!

“How are you here already?” you questioned lazily.

“Arithmancy professor fell sick this morning. I've been free since then.” said Aria. You turned to William, who was busy toying with his alligator bracelet. “And you willy?”

“Huh?” he mindlessly asked.

“I asked, did you run away from divination again?” you repeated the question, changing the words to suit his ears.

“Oh no! We just had a small accident in class today.” he giggled, his glasses falling off as he doubled over with laughter.

The potion classroom was soon jammed with third year fellows, all chatting in their own friend groups, enjoying the few minutes before they would be bombarded with over expectation of brewing a girding potion. At the precise moment, the door was closed shut.

“STOP THE USELESS GOSSIP AND SPLIT INTO YOUR BREWING GROUPS. NOW!”

Prof. Snape thundered as all the students, without a second wasted, dispersed and settled. “Mr. brown.” he called a hufflepuff, “collect the ingredients and mr. kim, care to move yourself and help him.” he instructed two students who complied immediately. “Not that i expect any from you little incompetent students, you shall not prepare more than two vials of the potion or else i won’t hesitate to make you do your laundry in the same foul liquid. Understood!” his warning earned silent gagging from several students at the mention of the awful smell, of which you were not excluded.

As you got busy in discussing the recipe, noise of shattering glass and a shrill cry pierced through your ears. Before you could raise your head to witness the happening, your left wrist burned as if it was set on fire. Knees buckling, you fell on the floor as sudden inflammation blocked your senses, heart wrenching screams leaving your throat.Your wailing alerted your friends as William instantly unbuttoned your sleeve to view the reason of your pain and gasped at the damage.

“Prof. snape! Her soulmate mark is burning.” he shouted but your ears were too clogged due to choked sobs to feel the distress in his voice. You slowly opened your heavy eyelids as your wrist was pulled swiftly. With blurred vision, you saw prof. casting a spell,his wand releasing a blue light circling your mark which entered your wrist, momentarily soothing the pain. Your cries softened into tiny sniffles as the spell did it's work. You lifted yourself up with Willy's help while sloppily rubbing at the darkened spot.

“Oh yes, it’d leave some itching and for the spot and further treatment, you need to immediately go to the hospital wing. Ms. y/l/n and mr. Kim, you both are excused and for your foolishness, 100 points from slytherin.” Upon his command, your head snapped towards the man standing across the room in dishevelled state,probably matching your own,his hand clutching his wrist, eyes holding your gaze.

“Out!”

Nodding your head, you made your way out, the male following after you.

Either you were too slow in your steps or he was too brisk, but he seemed to be way ahead of you. Gripping your tingling and heavy hand, you were tracing his path when a pair of shoes met your vision, halting you in the middle of the corridor.

“It’s stinging y/n. We have to run!” and before you could reply, he was sprinting for the stairs, taking you with him.

“You both are in the same year?” the nurse asked, examining the burnt swans on your wrists.

“Yes” you both replied in unison, eyes meeting for a second before you averted your gazes. The head nurse noted something in her register before she went to extract some bandages and potions.

“is the skin still burning?" The nurse queried, taking doyoung's hand but he pulled his hand and pointed for you.

"She's more hurt. Check her first please" he mumbled, noticing your incessant scratching and ragged breathing. She shook her head and proceeded with the treatment.

"Why were you playing with the potions?" She scolded Doyoung while applying the healing potion.

"I wasn't!" Doyoung retorted as he straightened his back in defence. "It got spilled by mistake when I was finding seaho-RSES!" He screeched as the medicine stung.

"Seahorses are kept in see-through containers mr. Kim and don't you nincompoops know that golden marks are sensitive to heat. Why were you wearing a folded shirt in a potions class when clearly you were exposed t-

"The temperature madam!" Your eyes never left his face as you witnessed the misery he went through in the past few minutes and which you were going to experience in a few seconds.

"Give me your hand miss y/n"

The liquid ignited it again but as she massaged on it, the skin felt cooler than before and when she wrapped the white bandage, the sharp needles alleviated into cold jingling. You carefully glanced at doyoung through your peripheral vision only to find him staring at you with wide eyes. Saving yourself the humiliation, you tried to hide your face into your neck which only annoyed you further due to the wetness of your fresh tears mixing with sweaty moisture, creating what felt like a puddle but you endured it, calculating the weight of the outcomes.

"Do stop by every day for a change of bandage unless you want to live your whole life with black wrists which I clearly don't have any problem with kids!" She jested before leaving for her office.

You stayed seated beside doyoung, the newfound soulmate, wondering if he was as nervous as you were. Fisting your clammy hands, you mustered all the courage you could, ready to introduce yourself but the greeting travelled back through your throat when he hopped off the hospital bed and departed without uttering anything.

Your recently dried eyes were sprayed again with his callous action as millions thoughts ran through your throbbing head, heart constricting under the weight of silence.

Did the man for whom you deserted the whole world for, rejected you?

"HE DID WHAT?" Aria hollered and looming forward, slamming her hands down on the table. At her reactions, you felt your own anger bubbling again but the disorder generated by the recent incident and William's reasoning, you stopped yourself from forming any conclusion.

"Will you calm down."

"No willy, don't you want to rip that sly boy apart. How dare he! I’m going to- wait you told him before me! That's not fare." She whined, diverting her own attention.

“stop shouting aria. Let people eat in silence. An-and we don't know why he left. It could be--maybe he wanted to use the washroom or he wanted to hide his pai-

"Stop defending him willy or I'll pour this porridge over your head" willy pouted at her remark and slided down his chair to avoid her.

"Stop bickering and tell me what should i be doing now! I have a soulmate for god's sake!"

You had finally found the reason for your presence in the castle, your soulmate, kim doyoung and you didn’t know how to proceed.

"I guess wait y/n and at least you were saved from the awful odour of the gird today. Sicheng almost fainted in front of professor but that was a hilarious sight girl. You missed it" you saw rolling her eyes at the mention and you mirrored her reaction,resting your head on the table as Willy's ironic statement only intensified the pounding.

Wait! But for how long?

"YOUR FROG BRAIN DID WHAT?" Simmi jumped off the bed to face doyoung, her hand reaching for the transfiguration book.

"I-i- i got nervous!" He whined and cringed at his pathetic excuse. He was busy folding and unfolding his poor ear,apparently in nervousness, when his best friend thwacked his bicep with the heavy book.

He cried out loud, grasping his arm with one hand, “do you want to die!” he glowered at her.

“How could you miss your soulmate when she was right there in front of you for two years." She said before working on his arm again.

“I’m not the only one! She also missed me.” he reasoned, holding his hands up in refuge from her neverending attacks. “Wait!” he exclaimed, pondering over his words. “How could she not know I was her soulmate when almost everyone knows I've got a gold swan embroidered.” his face fell in despondency and the horrible and hurried conclusion his thoughts took him to. “Simmi what if she- what if she never wanted to find me and that-

“Merlin’s beard shut yourself up and mail your family. They need to know their baby boy is all grown up now!”

He nodded in acknowledgement of the suggestion but his wandering mind refused to rest until he was sure of his qualms.

Maybe he should wait! But for how long?

My love was sleeping, but there was fragrance in the air

Doyoung roamed around in circles, his heart unevenly drumming, body so warm under the strain of muddled thoughts that the moisture was seeping through the bandage. The response of his parents, lying on his bed in the form of a letter, had relieved him of the worries of any prospective opposition. Not that he didn’t know his family, he wasn't too convinced how their family would address the sudden revelation of his soulmate being a muggle. You were going to be the first muggle in his family and the first ravenclaw after his great grandmother. The first line of the letter “we are elated to know that your soulmate is a human and not your piano” had eased him for the remaining part. Now that the dragon was out of the dungeon, the subsequent troubles were giving him splitting migrains.

In the past week, he had tried to approach you after a painful shove from taeyong and simmi but he had to retreat due to your very malevolent comrades. The mental conversations he had with you continued to be in the confines of his head but nothing arrested him from searching for you in the crowds. You had always been there, in the same classes, in the great hall, in the corridors but you were nowhere when his eyes sought you. Just a week has passed and he found himself getting more and more conscious of your presence. He wanted to hijack and become a part of your convivial life yet he lacked the needed courage.

So he resorted to wearying his legs by moving around. Maybe Some blood rush from his branches to brain would give him some clarity.

By degrees, the thumping of his spirit corresponded to the swooshing of the sea creatures.

He might have been too young to fall in true love but slowly, he knew, he was falling for that little golden swan.

Hidden from the rest, you were completing your assignment when the chair besides you was drawn out. You raised your head with the intention of getting the chair vacated for your friends but watching the Kim doyoung occupying the seat, you shot up instantly,ready for your escape. Fumbling with the ink and books, you whirled around only to be stopped by the boy.

You glanced at him for a moment before pulling your hand ,which he was tugging at , back.

"Stay. Your friends won't be coming today. I won't say anything. Please" he requested with his doe eyes looking up in a hope to catch yours.

Wordlessly, you sat down.

He kept his promise.

No word was spoken that day or the next day or the next week.

The intense silence that engulfed you that day soon morphed into a tranquil one. The one of the familiarity, of the silent exchanges and of the growing unbreathed bond.

By the end of the month, the green leaves sacrificed themselves for the birth of fiery red ones as the days became shorter, the sun became mischievous and the gold on your wrists started gleaming more than ever.

One month later

“Gamps’ law of transformation? Didn’t we read it last year?” doyoung asked perplexedly, taking the reins of the conversation, again.

“Prof. told me to prepare an assignment which would be used for the younger students.” you replied sheepishly, dipping the quill in the ink.

“Pure ravenclaw” he muttered, looking lovingly at you. These days, he did it more often than he could count. He wanted to say more but the fear of your refusal always held him back.

“Not so much”

you heard his muttering! He wanted to pry further but saved it for a later discussion.

He shifted himself towards his own chair and worked on his sheet as the ticking of the grandfather clocks muddled with scratching of the quills filled the empty corner.

It wasn't home but it certainly felt like one!

Two months later

“Give us our y/n back” aria whisper yelled to taeyong.

“She’s doyoung’s soulmate, doyoung is my best friend hence she is my best friend as well.” taeyong retorted, dramatically flaring his nostrils.

“Don’t forget we live at the same place taeyong and simmi won’t be there to save you baboon face.” amused smiles adorned everyone’s faces as they saw both of them quarelling. Some things were always constant.

You sipped on your hot chocolate that warmed you up as you and doyoung went through the revision for the last exam. Without being asked, he helped you with his encyclopedic knowledge. you were grateful for his assistance but never said anything for you felt like the feather silence between you was too delicate to breach.

So you spoke through your eyes.

And he never failed to hear you.

Wrapping the scarf around your neck, you sprinted for the dining hall, tightly holding onto the white chocolates tightly.

At the end of the hallway, you saw another figure running over in the same state as you.

“Did you get shorter?” he said, grinning ear to ear. Glancing up at him, you scanned through his features, in case you had forgotten in the christmas holidays.

“This is for you!” you both said simultaneously, extending your hands

“Open it for me!” you requested.

Under the emerald covering was an elegant and vintage fountain pen, engraved and decorated with turquoise stones. “This is so beautiful.” you told him before taking it from him. You traced over the name kim carved onto the nib of the pen. You raised your brows in question to which he responded quickly , “it’s my great grandma’s. This is your Christmas gift from the Kim family. I know it’s small but you are invi-

“It’s precious. You are giving me a family heirloom when all i got are some homemade milk chocolates for you.” your smile faded as you avoided his sight.

“How did you know white chocolates are my favourite?” he exclaimed, a bit too loudly.

“Mom said you’d l-

Before you could complete your sentence, he prised the chocolate box out of your grip, sprinting for the great hall.

“OH KIM DOYOUNG! GIVE ME MY SHARE!”

YEAR - FOURTH

“Why are you always so quiet?”

“I’m never!” you defended yourself.

Doyoung didn’t know why he was talking about it now and here, out of all places, in front of whomping willow.

“Tell me!” he pressed.

“I talk to a few and it’s enough.”

“Do you know you are intimidating?” you raised your chin to scrutinise the sincerity in his words.

“I am not!”

“To those you don’t know you, you radiate passive energy. My slytherin friends wanted to introduce themselves but they got scared and ran away. Honestly, i was also a bit-

He trailed off, slouching on the bench as your eyes bored into his. His head hung low in apology for he knew, he must've crossed the line but for the first time, you decided to show him your dauntless side.

“Hogwarts did that to me.” you said, wearily. “I was happy with my parents, drawing and colouring in my art books when suddenly i was told that i’ve been living in a wrong way. That there is a secret magical place where i have a soulmate. I was angry because i had to leave everything behind. And then i was sorted into ravenclaw. And i was distorted when i found out that i wasn't smart enough for them. I couldn't solve the riddles! William was the one who showed me how to do it properly. It felt awful knowing that the only place that was supposed to be my home for next seven years wasn't the place where i belonged to.” you spoke calmly but doyoung felt your distress and let you continue without any interruptions.

“I was an eleven year old. I never wanted to fend for myself in a place full of strangers. I -i imagined my life to be a canvas full of colours that i wanted to design for myself. The borders, the paint, the drawing, i wanted to design it for me. But then an owl screeched and i felt like someone had shortened my canvas and after all these years, i feel it’s completely disappearing.” it sounded like someone snatched the life out of your voice. But your visage remained soft, drawing doyoung in.

“So you like art.” he asked with curiosity.

“Yes. i love art.” you said, eyes fixed at the movements of the branches of whomping willow.

“Can you please teach me?” he urged and within a second , the air filled with the fragrance of your happiness.

“ why wouldn’t I. what do you wanna do in future doyong? Aria wants to arithmancer, william would be a healer and sicheng, he would be a star quidditch player.”

“I don't want to worry about it right now. Let’s just live in today.” he answered back, smile gracing his lips at the thought of a future with you.

You both relished each other’s company until the temperature froze the both of you.

Removing a snowflake from your lashes, he made a promise to himself that he’d help you find something that’d put ice on all the bitter memories you had.

YEAR - FIFTH

THE GREAT HALL

“Doyoung’s got a howler!” yuta and simmi fist bumped each other, already too excited for the letter to be opened. Of all the howlers they have received, doyoung and yuta’s were record establishing and they expected mrs. kim to maintain the status quo this time as well.

The howler jumped in the air and as the seal opened, doyoung’s heart dropped at the voice. It was not from his mother but his sister and it shouted humiliation, if he was being polite towards her.

“MS. Y/N!”

You choked on the juice as you heard your name.

“MY DEAR TO-BE-SISTER-IN-LAW, HELLO! I’M IVET, THAT DENSE DUDE’S LITTLE SISTER. MUM HAS SENT YOU SOME ART SUPPLIES AND SHE WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU COULD PAINT HER SOMETHING TO DECORATE THE EMPTY WALL IN HER ROOM. SHE’D BE DELIGHTED AND IF YOU GET TIME,PLEASE DRAW SOMETHING FOR ME TOO. AND DOYIE BRO! BRING ME CHOCOLATE FROGS FROM THE TRAIN! SHOP FROGS DOESN'T TASTE THE SAME. FORGET THIS TIME AND I’D MAKE SURE YOU REGRET YOUR EXISTENCE. I hope we can meet soon ms. y/n. By.”

The howler exploded and so did the whole room. Several snorts, chuckles, happy curses were exchanged as doyoung lowered himself under the table to avoid the shame.

You checked your paint supplies attached with the howler and as your lips curved up, he knew what he was going to pursue in his life.

Your happiness and immortality.

When i found you, there was magic

“Mr. kim if you wish to ogle at ms.y/l/n instead of paying attention to my words then i’d suggest please fail your o.w.l.s so i don’t have to face your affection filled face from next year.” prof snape growled, throwing the head of vial on doyoung’s face.

He was going to fail potions, you thought gesturing him to apologise.

“And 20 points from slytherin and 10 points from ravenclaw!” you both ducked your heads in an instant, forcing a poker face to save yourself from further trouble.

When i found you, rain smelled good

YEAR - SIXTH

When i found you, desires awakened

“No simmi! This is a slytherin dungeon. I cannot go inside!” you warned simmi, who, all of a sudden was adamant on showing you her room, at midnight.

“I love you but please don’t call this a dungeon.” she held out her hand before you could correct her. “Yes i know this is practically a dungeon but we call it seascape. Close your ears, you don’t wanna hear the password. You nodded, palming your ears.

“Yutaisthegreatestbeingintheworld” you snickered as she recited the words.

“Our prefect is a dung brain so please excuse.”

Door opened to darkness but a dim light slowly floated towards you as you walked inside “Nox” your wand rose high up in the air. You made out doyoung’s figure and before you could calculate, the whole room resonated with a syncless birthday song.

And you knew, you were enthralled by this boy.

You heard my prayers, you answered my heart’s call

“I love you aria. Would you give me the honour of being the snitch of your life?” sicheng, aria’s ravenclaw soulmate confessed to her with a promise ring.

“The ice prince finally melted!” You and william, hands joined, jumped in joy as you watched aria’s eyes glistened with glee.

You rushed upstairs to find doyoung as you forsaw the end of your wait.

Panting heavily, you dragged doyoung out of prof’s room, his step gracefully flowing with yours in a instant.

“What are yo-

“What do you smell in amortentia?” you stopped abruptly and asked him, gasping for air.

“Wh-a-t” he giggled nervously, his hand patting his chest to control his own breathing. “What has gotten ov-

“Answer me kim doyoung.” you whispered, strictly.

He was quiet but you understood the stillness of his heart veiled by the thumping and you felt him losing his composure when his hands cupped your face,

"I-i smelled white chocolate, lovely lillies-

"Hurry up Kim." You hit his chest with your fist with requirement of the answer.

He chuckled, his bunny teeth enlightening his chiselled face while he looked at you like you were something special to him and you no more just wanted to feel it. You wanted him to say it, express it like he did when he read the poetry from your book or like the random scribbles on his notebooks. You wanted him to move on from the shy glances and profess that you were his and he was yours.

he licked his lips as he gulped harshly before continuing,

"And you. You-your hair. Your lavender scent. Your innocence. Your d-dreams. Your colours. Your paints yo-

Pulling him by his tie, you placed your lips on his soft ones, leaving them with a smack. His hands wrapped around your waist to embrace you in the warmest hug you'd ever received from a loved one. As your head laid on his chest, you heard his heartbeat for the first time, making you feel closer to him than ever.

"How would i ever requite your love Kim doyoung" you asked, closing your eyes.

"Maybe a portrait would do!"

Kim doyoung became the canvas of your life,giving you the liberty to paint him in your colours and your love and you became the smudged ink to his enchanted diary, without whom he would've failed to fill the pages.

You'd grow old but the swans born out of you would tell the stories of the years gone by.

#neowritingsnet #nct-writers #kafenetwork #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #doyoung fluff #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #nct fluff #doyoung soulmate au #nct soulmate au #doyoung x reader #nct dream #nct hogwarts au #hogwarts fanfiction #doyoung hogwarts au #nct angst #doyoung angst

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dumdumsun · 3 years

Text

Forever and Never

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this series ❤️ I’ve had so much fun writing this and am very proud of and excited for it, I can’t wait to see how people react to this. Um I know there are plenty of warnings for a first chapter, but I promise it’s not as depressing as it sounds. It’s just that this story can deal with heavy stuff sometimes, so I just wanna let you know that. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, death, sexual assault and mental illness

Word Count: 3194

—————————————

One: Hi, My Name Is

“So, what was your time in Pennsylvania like?”

“Uh… I’d have to say it was the best… and worst time of my life.”

“Best and worst, huh? Would you like to elaborate?”

“Well, I, uh… I mean, I don’t really know how to, like… explain it. It’s a lot. I don’t even know where to begin… Or how I would even word it or anything.”

“Well, you told me you like television and movies, right? You know those shows and movies where the main character tells the plot as, like, their life story? Maybe you could try that.”

“You aren’t… You aren’t serious, are you?”

“You’ll know when I’m joking, trust me.”

“Oh… Okay, then. Well, um…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi? My name is… (Y/N)? This is my life story, I guess.

So, if we’re going to talk about my life in Pennsylvania, we’re going to have to start with my life in Kansas, first. I had two loving parents that soon turned into one at the too-young age of nine years, when my mom died. I remember her as one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. She had this way about her that was so carefree, yet she gave a shit about everything. You could never pin a thought to her because she never let you in on what was bouncing around in her head. She was stubborn and patient and lively. I miss her so much. I don’t usually think about her unless it’s a particularly hectic day, which I then resort to talking to the ring I wear on my left pinky finger at all times. Wasn’t anything special, just some cheap ring with a little emerald inside she found at a thrift store. It used to be hers and she’d wear it on the exact same finger. My dad said she’d want me to have it.

My dad is my favorite person. He isn’t the most… present, though. His mind is never set in one place, always racing with hundreds of unrelated thoughts. It’s why when you finally drag him back into reality, he can’t repeat a single sentence spoken to him. Regardless, he’s all I had for a long time. I never really learned what he does for a living, but I just know that it forces him to leave town sometimes. Well, more like all the time. Before my mom died, it was easy for him to leave for weeks on end, but when he became my only guardian, he didn’t really know what to do with me. It was like he completely forgot how to take care of a child, his child. When I turned twelve, that was when he started travelling again. I would then be home by myself for a month to eight weeks. In these times, I had no choice but to learn to cook for myself, go grocery shopping and housekeep. I became pretty independent at a young age. It wasn’t like Dad left me totally alone, though. He would call every two or three days and he sent me two hundred dollars every two weeks. Like I said, I don’t know what my dad did, but he was definitely getting paid. At the end of eighth grade, Dad had a particularly long trip to go on, so he sent me to Pennsylvania, where his sister lived.

Pennsylvania was partially the best part of my life because of my family. My Aunt Pam was like a second mother to me. She was never able to have another child after my cousin Jacob and she’s always wanted a daughter of her own, so that’s what I was to her. The daughter she could never have. I’d often find her staring at me with a bittersweet smile on her face, watching my every move with a sense of pride, but when I’d ask her what was wrong she’d only brush it off as her admiring me. My Uncle David didn’t necessarily view me as a daughter, but he certainly treated me like one. When he wanted to spend time with Jacob, he included me as well. We’d usually go on drives around the town, but I always fell asleep to the soft and serene music that filled the car from the radio. On the weekends, we would head down by the lake and spend hours learning to fish.

I hated it, but I couldn’t complain. It gave me a sense of certainty to live with a father figure who didn’t leave me alone every two or three months.

Jacob was like a brother to me. He’s a year older than me, which, to him, meant that he had to protect me at all costs. I always assumed it was because he always wanted a younger sibling, and I was the closest he was ever going to get to that. I always felt as though I’d never be able to equal Jacob on an intellectual level because he practically had the IQ of Albert Einstein himself. I felt inferior to him until I found out how much of a joy he really was. On the weekends, he would beg me to accompany him in a movie marathon. I learned that Jacob was a huge fan of Tim Burton (his favorite was Beetlejuice). He’s the only cousin I’ve ever known. Mom and Dad didn’t like each other’s families, so I never met anyone besides this little family. Moving in with them meant that they’d have this huge burden on them.

Yes, I almost forgot to mention that I struggle with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD. It just means that my mind is flooded with these crazy and unnecessary thoughts and so my behavior is affected by them. For example, if I were to blink and felt I put more pressure on my left eye than my right, I would have to repeatedly wink with my right eye until they felt balanced. Sometimes I can’t enter a room until I have inhaled eight times. If I scratch an itch on my left knee, I have to scratch the right one in the exact same place. At the sink, even if I don’t use both knobs, I have to hold both in my hands. And when I turn them off, I often have to check about four times before I am certain they’re turned off all the way. I know, it sounds tiring. Just imagine being on my end, having it be a part of who you are. I can’t do anything to stop it, I wish I could. I was always afraid to make friends because of this. If I couldn’t be balanced, I’d freeze, and I mean actually stop whatever I’m doing and stand still, until my body felt as if I were balanced once again. Who wouldn’t make fun of me for this?

Apparently, no one gave a shit about it. After moving to Pennsylvania, I made quite a name for myself at school. Literally. My name was Zip. I have no fucking clue how that ridiculous name came to be, but that’s what I went by day after day. One could say I was considered popular, but it wasn’t like I actually spoke to anyone. When it came to extracurriculars, I only participated in theatre. I never was part of the cast, just the stage manager. Secretly, I wanted so badly to audition and be a part of the magic they created on that stage. Not to boast or anything, but I had the talent and potential to be a starring role. But I could never bring myself to break out of my shell. Nonetheless, being stage manager still got me quite the attention. Everyone was always so nice to me, so I felt a little bad for not considering any of them as friends. That was until I met Dina.

Dina was new to our school sophomore year. She had this sort of light to her that attracted the pesky moths that were our dull and boring school body. We had the same social status in school. People liked our personalities, so we were well-liked and accepted without doing much to prove ourselves worthy. She was sweet and compassionate and so fun. I didn’t mean to become her friend, but she was so welcoming, despite being the newcomer. We became close friends, but not best friends. We already had people filling those roles.

Dina’s best friend was Sydney Novak. Sydney moved to Brownsville around the same time as Dina, so the two became best friends quickly, but Sydney wasn’t very popular at all. She was shy and introverted, but I thought she was nice enough. I liked her and thought she was a pretty cool person. We weren’t necessarily friends, we were just well acquainted simply because we were both close with Dina. The transitive property, if you would. I just wish we could’ve talked more, our relationship was pretty much nonexistent.

Speaking of nonexistent relationships, let’s talk about Richard Berry. I honestly don’t want to even think about him, but he played a role in my life that was too vital to just offhandedly mention. For some odd reason, Ricky Berry was absolutely in love with me. It was so obvious to everyone except for me. Sophomore year, he expressed his love through the most arrogant and cheesiest of pick-up lines and compliments. I wasn’t so easily won over, if you could guess. I tried being good friends with him, but he’d always fuck it up when he tried to initiate intimacy. I didn’t want to hold hands with him in the halls or receive “friendly” cheek kisses. I’m not what you would call affectionate, especially towards people I’m not close to. It’s just never been comfortable for me. Junior year, everyone around me was buzzing with excitement when they heard Ricky was going to ask me to be his girlfriend. The cheerleaders, who got to know him through his high school football career, constantly pestered me with reasons as to why I would be so lucky to date The Richard Berry. Granted, he became less of a dick junior year, so I thought, Why not?, and accepted. Being in a relationship with Ricky was the most one-sided… anything I had ever been a part of. He was undeniably enamored with me, but I couldn’t find it in myself to reciprocate those feelings. He would show me off to his family and friends like a trophy, but if someone asked me if I had a boyfriend I’d go, “I mean, yeah. I guess”, so not a very healthy relationship. It also didn’t help that Ricky knew nothing about boundaries.

One night, we were in his bedroom, studying for a science test. Ricky wasn’t focused at all and kept trying to kiss and cuddle with me. I let him for awhile, but then he took my book from me and set it on the ground beside his bed. He suggested we have sex right then and there. Now, I was never a prude and definitely didn’t wait to have sex for the first time, but I never wanted Ricky to be my first. He hadn’t earned enough of my trust to even touch me suggestively. So, of course I refused. Ricky only took that as me teasing him, so he advanced, nearly forcing himself on me. Using all my might, I shoved him off of the bed. He stood to his feet, utterly confused, but I only gathered my things and left his house. He tried following after me, but I ignored him until he turned and went back into his home. The next day at school, he was holding me and kissing me and showing me off to everyone like he always did. As if nothing happened between us the night before. It was difficult to do, since he was so inconsiderate, but I managed to break up with him. He tried to deny that we were Splitsville for about a week, but everyone caught wind of our break-up. Once everyone knew about it, it became true for him. I never really felt comfortable with being intimate or open with guys after that.

Besides with Stanley Barber, of course. Stan was my best friend in the entire world. I told only my deepest, darkest secrets to him. And he told me his. The only things we really had in common were our lack of mothers and our hideous bacne. Stan lived a few houses down and was eager to get to know me a week after I moved in. I’d never met anyone in my life like Stan. He was so awkward, but loveable. I don’t know, I guess he reminded me of my mom. The way he didn’t care, but he so clearly did. Whenever I wanted to talk about something that was difficult to voice, we’d smoke to ease the tension. Of course, this wasn’t how we always communicated. Despite his nervous stuttering, he was easy to open up to. Stan provided a sort of security in my life. He was never going to leave me and that put me at ease when hanging out with him, which we did regularly. I don’t know when exactly I developed a crush on him, but I never wanted it to surface in our bond. He was to never know. It was just a stupid crush, right? He was a guy who wasn’t family and was so unbelievably caring towards me. It was bound to happen, but that didn’t mean he had to be aware of it. Though, it was a little hard to keep such a secret when we’d both made out twice already. The first time was while I was dating Ricky, the kiss was very awkward and ended after about a minute and a half. The second kiss was just half a week after my breakup. That time, we’d both known what we were doing. And I may be a little biased, but you couldn’t have even thought to fake the passion in that makeout session. We never talked about either of those kisses and remained friends both times. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that we didn’t become anything more afterwards. It was for the best, though, because two weeks before spring break, my dad returned from his job in Georgia and moved me to Kansas again. The move was so abrupt that I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone besides my family.

My life in Kansas for the second time was something I’d never want to experience ever again. Since it was a little late in the year, I finished junior year online. For some unexplained reason, my dad had us get new phones and new numbers, so I lost all contact with my friends. I had no one to talk to and it wasn’t like my dad paid much attention to me. I remember spending every waking moment with him when I was younger, talking or playing games or watching television. It used to be so fun being his daughter, but when we moved back to Kansas, I just felt like this huge burden in his life. Our relationship was strained and he clearly had other priorities in his life. Like whatever he left back in Georgia. I’d see his phone ring and the same number from that state would pop up before he’d leave the room and privately talk with whoever. It wasn’t the secrecy that was off-putting to me, it was the fact that it was so much more important to him. Once again, I was ignored by the one person in my life I wanted to spend the most time with. So, you can imagine the joy I felt when Dad had to go back to Georgia for work. I had been attending public school for my senior year and left not even a full month in. It didn’t bother me, I had no friends and nothing to leave behind. Mid-September was when I moved back to Brownsville with Aunt Pam. Everyone accepted me right back in. Especially my classmates. As I walked the halls I heard whispers like,

“Oh, my god, is that Zip?”

“Zip’s back! Where’d she even go?”

“I thought she died.”

The only person I really wanted to notice me was Stan. I missed him so much, I even got into his favorite band to have something to remember him by. I remember the day I got back to my aunt’s house. Jacob had picked me up from the airport and was driving me to the house. He was attending community college, but was still living with his parents. As we drove, he tapped his index fingers rhythmically to the shitty pop music that played on the radio. “So, what are you excited about for senior year?”

“Not much, I just missed Dina and Stan. Theatre, too. I wonder how they’ve been doing without me.” I chuckled. Jacob huffed in amusement.

“But you didn’t miss Ricky?”

“Fuck, Jake, you know I didn’t miss him for a second.” I frowned, waving my hand in dismissal. My cousin tauntingly laughed at me. Had he actually known about what happened between Ricky and I, he wouldn’t have teased me. In fact, Ricky wouldn’t even be alive that day if Jacob found out. No one knew about the incident, not even Stan.

Pulling up in front of the house, we got out of the car and headed to the trunk to pull out my bags. I tried carrying them in, but Jacob insisted that he do all the heavy lifting and simply asked me to carry my backpack and close the trunk. I did what little I was asked of and headed to the front door to greet my aunt and uncle inside, but stopped. In the corner of my eye, I saw movement from the Barber residence. Turning, my eyes locked on Stanley, who was frozen beside his car. He was wearing his work uniform and staring at me with the most bewildered expression on his face. It was like he thought himself to be hallucinating my existence. Smiling, I simply waved at him before walking back inside. When he got home from work that night, he headed over to my house and knocked on the door. I answered with a grin on my face. “Stan!”

“If it isn’t the famous Zip, showing back up in my life.”

“Ugh, do not call me that.” I rolled my eyes playfully before bringing him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin at the top of my head. I would’ve stayed there all night if I could’ve. When Stanley pulled away, my heart hollowed and a pit formed within my stomach. I felt unfinished, unbalanced. And I hate imbalance. He asked if I wanted to hang out and I accepted his offer. All we did was lay on his floor, listen to music and get high, but in that moment, that’s all I needed.

Bloodwitch, a joint, and Stan laying by my side.

—————————————

Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit

#i am not okay with this #ianowt #stanley barber #stanley barber x reader #wyatt oleff #wyatt oleff x reader #i am not okay with this x reader #ianowt x reader #ianowt fanfic #ianowt stanley barber #forever and never

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mythiccheroacademia · 4 years

Note

Hey I love you hc so far I was wondering if you could do one if s/n was about to get in a fight with this girl but Aizawa canceled there quirks but that didn’t stop s/n from putting her hand on her and beating her ass. How would Bakugou,Todoroki,Izuku, and Shinsou react to that

that’s so sweet of you, honey bunny! thank you sm for this ask! ive been itching to write something spicy lmao. i hope you like this!

A/N: i hope you don’t mind, but this s/n will be female-identifying just because if they’re going to get physical (and it’s not for hero training), i’d rather it be between two girls. i personally am not comfortable with the idea of a man putting his hands on a woman over something that’s not life or death.

Warnings: lots of cursing and a few punches

PSA: I don’t condone violence! Especially between women. I think us girls need to stick together. However, if someone is coming at you disrespectfully, they need to get checked and that's on period. Just try to use your words rather than your hands hehe

Before I forget, Happy 2020 everyone 💜

Bakugo Katsuki:

y’all know this man is the king of using his fist first and words later

you’re pretty sweet and laid-back and you mind your own business

anyways, there was this girl didn’t like you for some reason

all she did was gossip and talk shit about you

bakugo told you he’d help you jump her but you were trying to the bigger person and told him you’d talk it out

you and the girl met during lunchtime, you took Mina to help mediate

you politely confronted her

she denied it and called you crazy

you pulled out the receipts

her “friends” sent you all the screenshots

“why are you so obsessed with me?” you ask

“who would be obsessed with an ugly bitch like you?”

“sis, who you callin’ a bitch?”

now Mina wants you to throw hands

like why is she calling YOU a bitch when she’s the one that’s talking shit and you don’t even know her???

things start to escalate and you both are screaming at one another and attracting the attention of your friends

she uses her quirk on you and everyone gasps

like, what the hell?

Aizawa immediately uses his scarf and cancels your quirks and orders both of you to the office

but you’re seeing red at this point

“you’re lucky i’m being held back bc i’m not afraid to pull up on a bitch, and that’s on period”

“shut the fuck up you dirty looking rat”

you don’t know if Aizawa loosened his wrappings or not, but you were able to get free and you went in

Mina and Bakugo cheer

the other girl got suspended

you got two days under house arrest, but you thought it was worth it

bakugo was proud and wouldn’t stop bragging about it

“tch. of course my girl beat her ass. she can check that, dumb bit--”

you hit his head, “boys aren’t allowed to call girls bitches, idiot. but thank you baby”

Todoroki Shoto:

you dated some guy from another school who cheated on you with some girl

you were pretty torn up about it

you broke up with him without a second thought and found someone much better :)

you didn’t know the girl or care about her, so you just forgot about her*ladies, remember to check your bf first before the other woman. she’s not in a relationship with you, he is*

but for some reason, she wanted to torment you

you two went to U.A. but were in different classes

you didn’t see her much, but when you did, she’d make sly comments

it got on your nerves, but you just let it go

shoto told you she wasn’t worth the energy

but then she saw you and todoroki at your locker and said,

“probably won’t be long until I fuck her boyfriend again,” she giggled to her friends

you slammed the locker shut, that was the last straw

“if you have something to say, say it to my face”

“i think you heard what i said, bitch”

“what’s your problem with me?”

“you think you’re all that bc you date the hottest guys in school, but they only want you bc you’re a skank”

shoto looks the girl dead in the eye and says, “then what does that make you?”

the girl gets so angry

but at you???, and uses her quirk on you

shoto pulls you out of the way

aizawa comes out of nowhere and cancels all three of your quirks

it’s meant to calm you down, but the girl is trying to go at you

“you’re nothing more than a $5 prostitute and once everyone passes you around like the whore you are, i hope you get an STD and die”

yeah, all bets were off after that

even aizawa was like 😧

shoto put your hair up for you

“fuck her up y/n”

quirk or no quirk, you beat that ass

Midoriya Izuku

*y’all are in your second-year*

izuku is weak for strong-willed women

literally went 😍🤤 when you told him he should ask you out

you spend a lot of time with each other and he knows about the situation with your (equally as strong-willed) ex-best friend

your ex-friend started to spread disgusting rumors about your little sister (who also goes to U.A as a first-year) just because it got out that her crush liked your sister

izuku, trying to be your hero™, thought y’all should talk it out so he brought both of you to the lunch table

bless his heart but this boi don’t know

you both sat in silence before you glared at your boyfriend

“why am i in front of this girl?”

izuku: 😯

“don’t address me like i’m some child” she says

“then stop talking about my sister like some little ass girl, bitch”

“shut the fuck up, bitch! ain’t nobody care about your ugly ass sister!”

“yo izuku, why the fuck did you place me in front of this low down dirty bitch”

izuku again: 😮

he immensely regretted this

izuku tries to calm you two down, but things just get worse

suddenly there are mentions of area codes and he didn't quite understand how they correlated to how well people fight, but he didn't have enough time to think about it

he’s trying to hold you back now

someone called aizawa over because you two started using your quirks

your sister is begging you to chill out but you’re too furious to listen

aizawa cancels your quirks before things go too far

izuku got so scared because he knows the punishment for fighting and he would hate it if you got expelled because of his dumb idea at peacekeeping

“y/n, please calm down! it’s not worth it”

even with your quirks gone, you two are rolling around the ground, punching, scratching, and screaming awful things at each other

yells at bakugo for cheering you on

Hitoshi Shinsou:

you know this man is shady af

you two make snarky comments to each other all the time

he loves the way you hold your head up high

he just loves your confidence, it was one of the things that made you so attractive to him

so it hurts him when you started being insecure and timid

he asks you what was going on, but you just say you’re tired

but after a while, you breakdown to him about some girl that’s been bullying you

he knows how it feels to be demonized, so he comforts you, and offers ways to defend yourself against the bullying

very mature™️, very adult™️

it seems to work for a little bit, but then it gets worse

her words start getting to you and, instead of being sad, you start getting angry

but its that really calm type of angry

shinsou defends you a lot, but one day you tell him it’s okay

then you tell the girl, “next time i see you, it’s on sight baby girl”

it was in a sickly sweet tone that sent shivers down everyone’s spine

on the lowest of keys, it turned shinso on

he’s like: 🥰😏

you and your bully were then paired up for combat training

you two fight each other and you’re going at her with everything you’ve got

shinsou is at the side, cheering you on

he thinks you look hot when you’re angry

also, he’s so ready to see you destroy that girl

for educational purposes

it’s obvious that you two are fighting with ill-intentions and aizawa is forced to cancel your quirks

she doesn’t stop running her mouth though

“you deserved to be picked on”

“oh word?”

“did i stutter?

there was a moment of intense silence as you stared at her

then shinsou yells, “snatch that hoe, y/n!”

and you did just that

you don’t know what happened to her

but you got detention, but your boyfriend gets it too for instigating

so both of you just eat sweets and gossip to each other

#mha #bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha headcanons #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #midoryia x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #todoroki x reader #mha x black reader #bnha x black reader #bnha x poc!reader #bnha ask #mha ask

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nlights37 · 3 years

Note

three stars ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

::In very convincing Matthew McConaughey Texan:: Alright alright alright, 3 stars, 3 fics to disclose little nuggets of info on...

1. From Fixer Upper, Chapter 4 - Jon and Dany’s text exhange:

She was laughing even as she sent the text, knowing how touchy he was about this topic. Honestly, it was the whole reason she sent it.

Dany: I can’t believe we’ve been fake dating this long and you haven’t sent me a single dick pic 😖

The text bubble appeared for so long she was a little worried, but then his novel-length answer appeared. She was two lines in before she was laughing so hard she was crying and her vision blurred beyond her ability to continue reading at all.

Jon: How ABSOLUTELY DARE YOU?! Apparently I need to explain this AGAIN? If the Westerosi Security Agency is going to see my dick they can come here and do it in person like men. I’m not just gonna offer it up on a silver platter for them. Also need I remind you I am a small business owner, madam? This store is my kingdom and you ask me to besmirch it’s good name so you can see my cock at 2 pm on a Thursday? I’m disappointed in you Daenerys, I really am.

It should probably come as no surprise, given the ‘Buttslut’ text I shared awhile back, that a lot of the dialogue I write (including text messages) comes from the way my husband and I talk to each other, and in this case I based Jon’s reluctance to free the Peen digitally off my own husband’s unbreakable stance that sending dick pics means your dick is then somewhere in the cloud and idk I guess he thinks the Governtment is just chilling and collecting nudes all day. Anyway, I really did ask him once when we were dating why he had never sent me a dick pic and he said something along the lines of Jon’s response here, and even now, years later, it still makes me laugh, so I used it :)

2. A Thin Line (Just some thoughts on this fic in general, that I’m not sure I’ve shared):

I was SURE, ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that a lot of people would hate this fic. Like, I was over the top about ‘Hey this is crack’, etc, because as much fun as I had making them just awful people to each other, I was like ‘ugh there’s gonna be some stans in both camps that maybe get pissed about this’, but I figured fuck it, let’s do it. The thing about them in this fic that I really, really enjoyed writing was that they are completely and totally unapologetic about themselves, and letting myself just really let them be the worst versions of themselves, I don’t know, guys. It felt good. So good that I was like ‘hmmmm, maybe keep it in the drafts.’

Because that’s the thing I like best about them and this fic - it’s not a redemption story about two tortured souls who find each other and then learn the error of their ways. It’s more like two villains meet at villain convention and will they birth the antichrist? Who knows, really, but probably, yes. Definitely.

Anyway, I really dug that so many people enjoyed their unspeakably assholish tendencies and please know I haven’t abandoned my part 3, in which Dany gets to snob it up in the North and you know, so more light bondage, maybe some matching prenups, I don’t want to give it all away.

3. From Fang and Claw, Chapter 1:

“When you say fucking,” Drogon drawled, “what exactly do you mean, snack?” The three were all gathered near the stone walls of the Keep, guards watching anxiously as the three creatures of legend circled and paced.

“Stop calling him that.” Rhaegal leaned in, nipping at Drogon’s swishing black tail. “He has a name.”

Drogon rolled his eyes, looking at his brother incredulously. “I’ll call him whatever I like. What’s he going to do? Howl me to death?”

Rhaegal glared, inching closer to Ghost. “He’s magic, like us, and he’s Jon’s, so you’d better behave.” The green dragon growled. “You know what mother said.”

The black dragon gave a dismissive snort, his eyes searching the windows of the Keep instead of Rhaegal or Ghost. “Be nice. Yes, I heard her. This is me. Being nice. Not eating this talking little snack.” His eyes shot to the wolf’s. “Rather nice of me, isn’t it,” teeth gnashed together, grinding as Drogon uttered grudgingly, “Ghost.”

The white wolf ignored the black dragon, his eyes also falling to the windows. “You want to know what fucking is or don’t you?”

“I want to know what it is you mean when you say Jon is fucking my mother, yes.” Drogon sounded angry, offended even, and Ghost was surprised two mighty creatures could be so absolutely innocent to the ways of the world. Why, he’d been fucking for years now. Surely there were girl dragons flying about somewhere, though the lack of fucking certainly explained the black dragon’s horrible attitude.

“I feel itchy.” Rhaegal was shifting restlessly beside him.

Ghost gave a wolfish grin. “You’re bonded to Jon now.” Rhaegal nodded though it was not a question. “That’s what it feels like when Jon’s fucking your mother.” The wolf’s mouth fell open, and he panted in Drogon’s direction. “Like an itch you need to scratch.”

His red eyes fell to the windows till he found the one he wanted, and he whispered for the duo to follow as closely as they could as they slid along side the ancient stone, ‘til they were just under the window to Jon’s chambers.

“Hear that?” He certainly could, and by the look of confusion on the dragons’ faces they could as well. The Silver Dany let out a throaty yell then, followed by Jon’s name, the sounds and smells of mating flowing from the open window and out into the night.

“Is he hurting her?” Drogon was rumbling and thrashing his tail about, rage building in those mad eyes.

But Rhaegal responded before Ghost could answer. “No.” He drew the word out, his head rising until he could look into the room for himself, then shooting back down to stare at Ghost. “Why are they doing that?”

Drogon mirrored his brother’s actions, even angrier but endlessly puzzled when he lowered his head as well, clearly befuddled by what he’d seen. “Explain this!”

Ghost gave a shrug, padding off a few paces, ready to give his brother a spot of privacy with his mate, heading for the clearing along the tree line where he could scent some rabbits running. “It’s what they do.” The pair was scrambling after him, landbound, awkwardly lumbering after the sleek wolf. “Humans.” Both dragons remained clueless, and Ghost snagged a hare and crunched down heavily, warm blood streaking his fur, downing the small prey in a few bites before continuing. “When they want to make a pup.”

Drogon shuddered as he watched Ghost eat. “You’re a fucking savage.” He grumbled and groused, claws swiping out to catch an elk, idly shooting out gouts of flame to cook the meat before he began to tear it apart. “You don’t even cook your food, little snack.”

Rhaegal ignored it all, focused only on this new knowledge. “But our mother is a dragon.” His eyes lit up, suddenly, turning to his brother in excitement. “It’s how they make eggs!”

Ghost gave a snicker. “Humans don’t lay eggs.” He looked at the pair with amused eyes. “You lot come from eggs?”

Rhaegal gave a nod, but Drogon preened, proud as he broke his meal’s rib cage between his jaws. “You should be so lucky. We certainly do. Beautiful eggs people pay large sums of gold for.”

Ghost crouched, his attention on the deer he could now sense beyond the tree line. “Like a chicken then.” He leapt as the black dragon roared in outrage, his jaws sinking into the deer’s neck, and he pulled the twitching body out of the treeline to drop it in a heap before Rhaegal.

“NOT LIKE A CHICKEN!”

Rhaegal looked at Ghost pleadingly before he cooked the deer his host had provided, his eyes begging the wolf to stop baiting his brother, and Ghost grumpily complied.

“Alright, not like a chicken. Point is, humans have pups that look like them, and they don’t come from eggs.” He sat on his haunches, watching the pair as they ate.

“So,” Rhaegal snapped into a femur, “you meant to say that’s what Jon’s doing. Trying to put a small human in our mother.”

The wolf couldn’t stop the snicker of amusement. “Oh, no he’s already done that.” He looked at the pair wonderingly. What sort of beast were they, that they couldn’t smell the pup in their mother? “Now he’s just fucking her because it feels good.”

There is nothing funnier to me than the idea that (1) Ghost would ever try ot explain to anyone what sex is and (2) that the dragons wouldn’t know and would be VERY offended and it took a little bit for me to write this scene way way back ago when we all thought that Season 8 would not be a massive shitstain in history because I kept laughing so hard picturing this shit.

This story is probaby one of my favorites, just because it’s silly and every magical creature is TIRED TIRED I SAY of everyone dicking around and just the notion that they’re all like ‘THESE HUMANS ARE SO DUMB UGH DO WE HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING?!” It just really tickled me, and I might never have written it had the amazing @aweseeds not requested it after her winning bid for the Jonerys Unites charity event. So, everyone say thank you to aweseeds lol, this might’ve just stayed in my head and silly tumblr posts without that fine investment in fandom content.

Thank you lovely @frostbitepandaaaaa for the ask! I LOVE YOU BITCH, I AIN’T NEVER GONNA STOP LOVIN’ YOU BITCH!

#jonerys #jon x daenerys #fanfic #my fics #fic asks

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thoseofgreatambition · 4 years

Text

duet | {im}mature

description: you were supposed to be fred’s best friend. but you sure weren’t acting like it.

a/n: this broke my heart to write, but i think a bit from fred’s perspective would be wonderful. again this is the wonderful wonderful story i am writing with @ickle-ronniekins and you have to follow her, i honestly owe so much to her because this is something i’ve always wanted to do and haven’t had the chance yet.

DUET MASTERLIST

warnings: swearing, blood

wordcount: 5K

taglist: @highly-acidic @feffffffy @sweetpeastrigger @stuckindilemma @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @harrysweasleys @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens @woakiees @black-widow-fangirl @theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot @chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme @illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12 @obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld @shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes @peachesandpinks @gweaslvy @alpinewinchester @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual

no smut taglist: @parker-potters

Fred adored you. Truly. You were his closest friend, aside from George. The little Hufflepuff with the ribbons who’d shouted him down after a prank only four short years ago. The one who truly would tell him what you thought of his pranks.

Perhaps that was a lie, but he liked your opinion more than most others.

He often didn’t want to hear it, but that's beside the point.

Now though? Now he wanted your opinion. His mother told him once long ago that the reason he got into such intense arguments was that he poked and prodded others until they told him what he thought was wrong, and then he would pounce.

What utter rubbish, Fred thought as he stared you down from across the D.A. Room. All he wanted to know was why you were so against his suggestion that you come with them when they leave Hogwarts.

Very simple.

Not to mention how annoying it was that you were paired with Longbottom. All he ever heard was George prattling on about how much he missed spending time with you. If Neville weren’t careful he would catch the bad end of a Nosebleed Nougat.

You for your part, seemed to be returning his gaze with an equal amount of fervor. In between longing glances at George.

If Fred weren’t such a firm believer in keeping promises, he would have locked the two of you in a cupboard long ago to shag it out.

Alas, he was frustratingly loyal.

What a terrible flaw to have.

It was towards the end of the meeting, when you looked near tears of frustration of being unable to figure out the expelliarmus charm, and George was fawning over you that he approached. Even Harry had left.

“Y/N.”

George shot Fred a warning look, a look that said ‘if you pick a fight I’ll knock you out’.

Fred hadn’t been knocked out by George yet.

It was like an itch he couldn’t help but scratch. Fred wouldn’t admit it, even if there was a wand pointed to his jugular, but he was every inch as self conscious as George. Perhaps even more. People who knew them always talked about how confident Fred was and how smart George was. How his twin had the more mature personality.

Perhaps it was true, but the thought that he was missing out on something that others might have noticed dug underneath his skin and clawed against his skull.

You took in a shaky breath.

Fat tears on your cheek. Fred let out a grunt. He could be emotionally mature. He could be the more mature one. More mature than George obviously-- he could state things in a clear way, and even wait to say them.

He could do it.

This was a time to wait. “You want to be a healer right? No one’s going to come at you as a healer. Let’s go get you to the kitchens then to your dorm.”

The little smile you gave eased his heart a bit.

He’d always been uncomfortable when you’d cried.

You were mad. He could tell. You were mad at George, Fred knew it like he knew Quidditch formations. You always got weird and pouty when you sat on the other side of the Great Hall. You could have asked to sit over with them. It was the weekend. Life was boring without a bit of risk. But you took your seat at the Hufflepuff table and kept looking back over at George.

Fred wasn’t able to hang out with you either. Every free moment you chased after his twin.

You were supposed to be his best friend too.

You were a prat sometimes. And you were too wrapped up in your ‘unrequited’ love to notice it.

With a huff, Fred followed you out of the hall as you tried to escape. Presumably to cry in your dorm room again instead of coming over to speak with them.

Madness! What was George going to do, push you away?

And even if George didn’t want to talk-- which he always did-- you could have been speaking to him.

What had happened to best friends?

“Oi!” his voice was loud in the corridor, with his large frame and fiery hair it was easy for you to locate the sound. “Why are you running out without talking to us?”

He meant ‘me’, but that was too messy.

You frowned up at Fred, lip wobbling, eyes wet. It was hard to be intimidated by someone who looked like they were about to cry. “You seemed plenty busy, Fred.” When you turned on your heel and tried to stomp off, Fred followed you.

Followed you through empty corridors, easily outpacing you.

“Why won’t you come with us? Why aren’t you spending time with us?”

“Why aren’t you two spending time with me then?” Your voice sounded like he’d brought sandpaper to an exposed nerve.

“No! Stop turning it around! I have to listen to George pouting every day--” Of course talk of him is what gets you to soften. “Will you fucking stop with that!? Acting like your world revolves around him? If it did you’d come with us--”

“I can’t come with you, I need to finish my schooling! Some of us are studying for a job that requires a complete education, Frederick! Not all of us can just run off without thinking--”

There it was.

“And our plan is bad because it doesn’t need us finishing up here?”

“Will you shut up Fred? You’re taking words out of my mouth!”

“Then say your bloody words!”

Later on, Fred would be thankful that you two were in a relatively private location.

“IT’S NOT MY JOB TO COME WITH YOU, ALRIGHT? I’M ALLOWED TO BE UPSET YOU TWO ARE LEAVING!”

“IF YOU WERE OUR FRIEND YOU’D BE HAPPY FOR US--”

“SOME OF US ARE EMOTIONALLY MATURE ENOUGH TO FEEL MORE THAN ONE THING AT ONCE, FREDERICK.”

Fred felt himself pale, and pressed on despite George making his way over.

“Nice enough of you to call me emotionally immature. At least I can say what’s on my mind.”

Now you look every bit as hurt as he was. Good. Though, he had to admit, you looked much more intimidating now that you were getting truly angry.

“Shut up Fred. The only reason you’re picking fights right now is because you’re scared about leaving!”

“I’M NOT SCARED!” Fred’s voice bellowed and echoed down the hall. He shrugged off George’s hand on his shoulder.

“You are! You’re scared and confused and nervous, you’re just too fucking proud to admit that you might actually care about the risk you’re taking!”

“Will you two fucking settle down?!” Like always, George was trying to be the voice of reason. The mature one.

What horseshit. And he couldn’t even go let off steam at practice.

“Why should I calm down-- he’s the one who came over picking a fight!”

“You’re the one pouting like a fucking five year old, aren’t you? Why don’t you tell George then why you won’t go with us? Been making him upset too but you’re too busy thinking about yourself--”

You looked like you might cry again, though more than that you looked like you might smack Fred. “I shouldn’t have to explain why I need to stay here to be a healer! If you had any fucking sense of empathy you’d understand--”

“Hey!” This time, George stepped between the two of you. Apparently, hearing George bellow was enough to stun you both enough to stop shouting for a bit. “Go walk it off, Y/N.”

You gave George a look that Fred knew would bring his brother near tears later. George seemed near tears more than usual these days.

It only made Fred want to argue with you more. You were so determined to deny that George obviously couldn’t love you, that you rejected the notion that he might be just as sensitive as you were about some of these things. You rationalized his tears and fears so far away from yourself that any guilt on your part seemed absolved.

Fred opened his mouth to get the last word in, but stopped when he felt a rather rough grip on his shirt from his brother. He used his forearm and pushed him away. “Don’t touch me mate. I’m allowed to get mad at her.” You were far enough away that he could speak at least part of his mind. “Just because you like her doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to get mad at her. She’s my friend too. She’s been a prat, and she hasn’t been supportive enough even though she was one of the first people you told!”

“She’s upset!”

“SO? We all are! She doesn’t support us. And I’m not going to spend the rest of the year watching her feel sorry for herself about it. I’m sick of watching you pine over someone who’s too stubborn to even try to talk to us in the hall.”

Fred shoved past his brother and bit down his tears. He was mature. He didn’t spill either of your secrets. That was mature. Keeping secrets even when you were mad at the other person was mature. He knew that.

Something hot and wet was falling down his face. It must have been raining, he thought, as he walked blindly outside into the autumn night. It rained often in Scotland. People were often so focused on the fact that he and George were twins that they forgot that Fred was exactly in the middle of the rest of the Weasley children.

George complained to him once about not feeling like an individual, and like a good big brother, like someone mature, he bit his tongue and listened to his twin’s feelings.

Of course he knew what it was like to play second fiddle. He got labeled as the ‘mean’ twin. The rude one. The hot headed one. There was truth in that, and Fred wouldn’t deny it, but it stung still. You’d been nice about it though. You’d called him bold. Knew him apart immediately. Sanded down his edges over the years.

You’d called him your best friend last year. Laughed when he’d asked about George. Said you were always too nervous to tell George what was exactly on your mind. It was always so easy to talk to him you’d said.

So why wouldn’t you talk to him anymore? If you were supposed to be his best friend, why weren’t you trying to spend time with him?

Fred coughed into his sleeve as he finally ran out of breath. Eyes swollen. You were supposed to be his best friend too. You were supposed to prioritize him too. He was angry too about being kicked off the team.

He wasn’t scared. This was going to be an adventure. Fred landed himself onto the grass, shoulders shaking. If he could shout, he would. But instead his teeth seemed to lock together.

Fred Weasley didn’t get scared. The late nights he spent working on things where his heart wouldn’t stop pounding against his chest wasn’t fear. It was excitement, obviously. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t scared reading about more muggle attacks. He didn’t get scared remembering that you and so many other of his friends were muggleborns.

He certainly hadn’t panicked realizing what could happen to you and your family when you’d joined the D.A.

Fred Weasley didn’t get scared.

He didn’t cry either. His face was red as he rubbed his sleeve rather roughly against his eyes. The rain had gotten in them, clearly.

He would show you. He’d show you he wasn’t scared. He’d show you that he was mature. He’d show everyone that this was a great idea, and he’d been smart convincing George to do it.

Far off in the distance, a few first years were chatting amongst themselves, wondering why one of the Weasley twins was sitting alone in the grass, rubbing his eyes so harshly on such a perfectly clear night.

George was sad. Fred didn’t like it when his twin was sad. It crawled under his skin. It scratched at his bones.

Fred knew why his twin was sad, and it made him even more uncomfortable.

You were also upset. Something that shouldn’t have bothered Fred as much as it did, seeing as the two of you were arguing at the moment.

That didn’t matter though. Everything would be alright obviously-- he was the strong twin. He didn’t get sad like George did. He wasn’t going to be the type to lose his mind over someone not spending time with him, obviously.

He would never make George admit it, but the younger of the two of them had always leaned a bit towards anxious tendencies.

It was Fred’s job to keep himself strong so that George didn’t have to worry about things.

Thinking about you again made him rankled.

If you would just stop ignoring them, everything would get better. He couldn’t make you come with them-- and deep inside his gut Fred understood why you wouldn’t come, but if you would put everything aside everything would get better.

George was shaking his head when Fred asked if he was going to come to breakfast. “Don’t feel well?”

“It’s my stomach.”

Fred frowned at his brother. If he were the type to be honest with himself, he would admit that he was making things worse for his brother.

“Stay in bed then. Umbridge will only make things worse for you.”

Perhaps he could have been more comforting.

Perhaps he could have been better at explaining things.

Perhaps Fred shouldn’t have argued with George after his argument with you.

Perhaps Fred wanted someone to scrutinize his emotions like people scrutinized George’s.

Perhaps that was a silly thought. Fred Weasley didn’t get sad, after all.

When it was the three of you in detention it was easy to laugh it all off. Sure, writing in your own blood hurt, but you could all laugh it off imagining what may happen if you’d misspelled a word.

It was an awful experience, but it was easier to forget when it was the three of you.

Now though?

“Keep writing, Weasley.”

Fred wondered if he would be able to knock the lights out of Nott before anyone could stop him.

Being expelled wouldn’t be the worst thing--

Unless they snapped his wand.

For the moment though, Fred settled on a glare before staring back down at the parchment in front of him.

Just a little while longer.

I must act my age.

Malfoy sneered at him from across the room, no doubt excited to have some sort of revenge from the beat down he’d gotten just a few weeks prior. “Yes, come on then George. Or are you illiterate?”

Fred was about to open his mouth to make a crack, but you seemed to beat him to it. “That’s Fred.”

You’d never spoken in detention before. Malfoy strode over to your desk, and you met his stare with another one, “What was that?” Astonished, Fred watched you rise to your feet, eye to eye with Malfoy who seemed to flinch and step back. “I said that’s Fred. If we’re here for detention, perhaps you’re here for a remedial lesson then since you can’t seem to understand two word sentences. Don’t get cocky Malfoy.”

“You’re the one who’s being cocky if you can’t even duel.”

“Clearly I don’t need to duel you to send you off crying to the hospital wing.”

“Miss Y/L/N!” Umbridge’s voice was shrill from her desk. “Another week of detention for threatening another student.”

Instinctively, Fred grabbed his bag when the timer went off, ready to grab your sleeve and pull you out. Unfortunately it seemed Umbridge had another plan.

“Miss Y/L/N. You’ll be staying behind. I need another twenty lines from you.”

You shot Fred a look, as if you were reading his mind. Rarely could he read someone as well as he could read George.

This was simple though.

Get going.

Fred knew your footsteps. He’d memorized them over the years. When he heard you walk by the statue he was hiding behind, he stepped out just enough for you to see him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You frowned at him, “I did. He called you illiterate.”

Ah yes. Hufflepuff loyalty.

Hufflepuff stubbornness.

You two continued to stare each other down before finally Fred spoke again. “Your hand is bleeding.”

“Stunning observation there.”

With a scowl, he gestured for you to follow him behind the statue and down one of the hidden passages. “Let me clean it up for you at least.”

You sat down on the cold stone floor once the two of you were far enough away to be heard, and continued to glower at him as he sat across from you.

Fred kept your gaze inch for inch.

“You’re being awful nice for someone who saw fit to yell at me for being shy.”

“If you think that’s why I’m upset you’re just as thick as I thought.”

Fred kept the edge in his voice, but he kept his touch gentle as he dabbed the blood off your hand.

“How am I supposed to spend time with you two when you’re constantly busy with other people--”

“You just come over!” Fred’s voice echoed throughout the passage, louder than he’d intended. However, he was on a roll. “You’ve been our friend for years, you already know our friends because they’re your friends too, you spent the fucking summer with us! You just come and sit down, but you’re too fucking set on George coming over to do that aren’t you? You’ve always got that love story stuck in your head. Can’t see past it far enough to think about your other friends.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? I spend plenty of time with my friends!”

“Do you?”

The lack of comprehension on your face was frustratingly astounding. Biting back the urge to start screaming like he’d been doing into his pillow the past few nights, Fred allowed his voice to sound as bitter as he wanted as he rubbed a salve onto your hand. “We hardly ever see you! Just have to watch you stare at us from across the hall. Do you think I don’t notice? It’s obvious what you think, that you’re wishing someone will come over and tell you it’s alright. You’re not the only nervous one you know! You’re not the only one who gets scared or anxious-- have you thought about that? Getting so upset when I offered you to come with us-- you could have just said no!”

“I did say no!”

“You got so defensive-- like we were attacking you! You’re a muggleborn, I wanted you out of here before things got nasty! Making it sound like a terrible idea-- for every Malfoy that says those terrible words to your face, there’s a dozen others who are too cowardly to. But now Voldemort’s back! Can’t believe you want to stay here where it’s so dangerous. Your career isn't everything! Being a healer can wait!”

You were curiously silent, and if Fred were to snap out of his heated rant he would have noticed the odd expression on your face.

“That’s another thing, Y/N! You’re always so caught on George! He’s not the whole world you know-- do you know what it’s like to hardly see your closest friend, and when you do see them alone they just talk about their crush? It’s bloody annoying! Makes you feel like you’re not a priority! Or hearing that your idea to leave is a bad one when you’re just trying to be brave--” Fred’s voice felt thick, his vision became blurry with tears but he continued. “I am brave! And just because I’m not George doesn’t mean I don’t get scared or sad-- Everyone always prattles on about how he’s feeling, I don’t feel wonderful all the time either! But I have to keep pushing on, like nothing is bothering me! Because this was all my fucking plan, and if I don’t push on all this work will have been for nothing!”

Fred forgot sometimes, that you could read him better than you could read George. “I’ve made you feel looked over, haven’t I? Is that what it is Freddie?”

He wasn’t supposed to cry. So why was he crying? “You have! You said I was your best friend, and then you just start ignoring me--”

It was a strange hug that you wrapped him in. He had to crouch down on his knees to be properly held in your arms, but it didn’t stop him from crying into your shoulder as he continued to rant and rave. It wasn’t until his throat ached from speaking that he noticed you rubbing circles into his back or your hand in his hair.

He was brought back to many years before, how it felt to be wrapped in his mother’s arms after a long tantrum.

“I’m sorry Fred.”

He pulled away, sitting on his heels and watched you rub your own teary eyes. “I should have thought more about how you felt. You’re right.”

“Why won’t you just come over to be near us?”

“I was scared you two might not want me there. You always look like you’re having so much fun.”

His brow furrowed, what a silly reason. It hardly made any sense. “You’ve known us for years. You spent the summer with us. Why wouldn’t we want you there?”

You gave him a very halfhearted shrug, giving the impression of someone who didn’t quite understand themselves. “Don’t know. Since all of this has started… haven’t quite felt myself. I’ve been burying myself in studying. Trying not to think of much.” you looked as if you were willing yourself up to say something. “Was that why you invited me then? Because you were worried about me?”

“Someone’s got to-- you can’t even manage a simple disarming spell.”

Thankfully, you had the grace to laugh at that, even with tears in the corner of your eyes. “That’s mean!”

“It’s not mean if it’s true.”

“I want to be a healer. I’m not leaving early. I’m bad at fighting, but I’m good at healing. So I’ll be doing that during the war. I know you’ll do something silly and get your ear blasted off. Someone’s going to need to know how to patch it back on.”

“I’m the smart twin. That’ll be George who does something that stupid.”

You waved your hand as if it were all unimportant. “My point stands. I’m not afraid of Malfoy. I’m staying here and finishing up my education and I’m going to do well on my NEWTS so I can get into a good program.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Again, you shrugged. “Can’t just let you two try to beat up everyone for me.” With a half smile as you wiped away your tears with your sleeve, “And I reckon I made you feel bad about your choice?”

Fred hardly needed to nod as he shifted himself to sit beside you, arm squished against arm as you both leant back on the cold stone wall. “Didn’t make me feel good about convincing George to leave early.”

“Ah. I should have known it was your idea.” There was a silence, as you took his hand in yours and tapped your fingers against his palm. “I do support you, you know. And I know your ideas and marketing will do well.”

It was nice to hear you mention the marketing-- it’d been Fred drafting up the ideas for it. George tended to be the one to work out the specifics.

“I just get sad thinking about being apart from both of you. And I could have said that better.”

“We’ll miss you too, you know.”

“Even if I’ve made you sad?”

“Yeah. It’ll be hard for me to make you feel guilty about that if you’re all the way here in Hogwarts.”

When you pinched his hand, Fred let out a loud laugh.

“I could have said this all better. I’m sorry.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “It’s hard to talk about this stuff.”

“It’s difficult to open up when we’re scared.”

You read him too well.

You knew that he did get scared, every once in a while.

Even if he’d never admit it.

It was Fred who woke up first, shivering with an ache in his throat and his head with a rather harsh nudge to his thigh.

“Why are you two in here?”

He would have known that irritated voice anywhere.

“Morning Georgie.”

Fred sat up, and realized he’d fallen asleep using your forearm as a pillow.

“Answer my question.”

Fairly certain he had a fever, Fred looked up at his twin. “Clearly we had a passionate night of lovemaking, as evidenced by us both being fully clothed.” When George continued to scowl down at him, Fred let out a shrug and a cough, “Talked. Patched things up. Fell asleep.”

George used the back of his hand to test the temperature of Fred’s forehead. “You’ve got a fever.”

“Thank you Healer George.”

“Oh shut up. I was worried about you.”

“How’d you find us?”

“Borrowed the map from Harry.”

You finally began to stir, shivering just as much as Fred had been.

Sleeping in a cold tunnel towards the end of fall truly was a horrible idea.

“Why’s my arm asleep?” when you noticed George, you frowned a bit, “Why’re you here?”

“He came looking for us. He’s jealous I got to spend the night alone with you because of our torrid love affair, and that’s something he wants instead.”

Like always, the comment seemed to fly over your head. “We don’t have one of those.”

“Don’t hide our love, Y/N.”

George rolled his eyes, and offered his hand to help you stand. “You two are hopeless. Let’s get you to the hospital wing.”

“Not going to help up your brother?” Fred chuckled as he watched George put his coat over your shoulders before helping up Fred and wrapping his scarf around his brother’s neck. While he was sliding mittens onto his brother’s hands he shook his head.

“Just glad you two aren’t fighting anymore. Thought I was going to have a heart attack from the stress.”

“Sorry Georgie.” both you and Fred spoke at the same time, resulting in an amused smile from George.

“Hopeless. Just like I said.” with that, he slung an arm over Fred and wrapped his other around your waist. “C’mon. Now you both get to spend Saturday sick in bed. Terrible judgement, you two.”

Fred grinned as you let out a tired laugh.

Things felt a bit closer to normal.

#george weasley #george weasley oneshot #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fanfic #fic: duet #my writing

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chiantidinner · 3 years

Text

THE UNCLE WORRIES

"Well, as you have the formidability of an Adler and the intellegence of a Holmes, I don't believe these moronic obstructions will interfere with the path you will take on in the future, now will it?"

\\~\\

"Yes, I'm fine- NO! Your father musn't hear about this!" Nero berated loudly to the phone stuck to his ear, hands flinging outwardly and feet rustling about outside the school gates.

The Adler-Holmes offspring had just retired from school for the day and was yearning to be back at the home-y confines of Bakerstreet; just him, his father, occassional (now, more often) visits from his mother, the skull on the mantelpiece, and the ghastly laboratory equipments filling the whole of the kitchen area - but it wasn't until he recieved the call from Rosie, aware of what had transpired between him and a couple of boys their age, who think themsleves as tyrants, and had offered a solution that involved telling John Watson about the matter at hand.

"You know he'll tell father and..." The boy paused, sighing, rubbing his elbow and hissing as he felt a slight sting of the movement, "Rosamund, don't you dare-"

Nero's attempt to dispose his friend out of the idea had suddenly died down his throat, ignoring her cries as he watched a black Jaguar car pull up right in front of him. His eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowing ever-so-slightly but his expression remained stoic, hearing how the car door clicked and started to swing open. Nero tightened his grasp on the phone and muttered lowly, "I have to go.", then ending the call. He carried his long limbs toward the opening, slowly rasing his chin to imply confidence. Assuming the man inside the car is who Nero thinks he is, he'd have to appear much like his father - though for what reason, he doesn't know.

As he steps closer, a figure of a woman in a suit with light brown hair comes to view - further proving that the man responsible to the mysterious arrival of the vehicle, is indeed his uncle and not wealthy kidnappers trying to take him as bait for his father to willingly catch (which, unfortunately, has happened more than once in his 16 years of life). The boy closed the door beside him as he sat down on the leather seat, sighing before turning to face Mycroft - his apprehension expertly covered by his naturally sour facade.

"Nero." The older man inclined his head to his direction, as a way of greeting, the corners of his mouth curling upward.

"Good afternoon to you too, sir." the boy replied, still with a stoic and blank face.

Mycroft tried hard to hide his grimace as he heard his nephew call him: sir.

Ever since he was shown to Mycroft, it never really deemed him to be called uncle - much less ever being one - but the boy was different. The boy was far too brilliant and belongs to a far more extraordinary family than normal people would suspect. It impressed Mycroft how easily he could start a conversation with adults and then finds chatting with other children boring and annoying, how he could find clues in the most discrete of places at such a young age, and how he could act realistically and would use that against people that were worth the punishment, but he could say he wasn't the least bit surprised; he was Sherlock Holmes' and Irene Adler's son, after all.

"May I ask what could be so terribly important that you couldn't have just called me?" Nero replied pointedly, itching to get this over with and go home.

"I have heard about the shooting near your school and came to pick you up myself."

Nero's blank facade finally came crumbling down when it was replaced with pure confusion, mixed with a bit of shock, his face pulling into a grimace and his eyebrows knit together. The boy searched a reason from his uncle as he bore his eyes into his, but found that he didn't want anything from him and that his actions were from familial concern, apprehension, guilt (he didn't know where that came from), and, as much as he would deny, sentiment. He opened his mouth but no words came out, and the second try was unsuccessfull as well.

When he finally found the breath to reply, he choked out, "...Why?"

Much to the younger boy's surprise, Mycroft's demeanor actually softened; a soft grin played on his lips that spoke volumes, sharp brown eyes losing their sting. He looked nothing like what Nero had ever seen of his uncle, even his assisstant looked utterly surprised.

"Because I don't want my only nephew to become like my brother." Mycroft's eyes now showed signs of sadness and... guilt.

Ah, that's where that came from, Nero thought to himself.

"Really? Because I believe my father is in a good place. He receives inquiries for cases from the Yard, still gets to bring John Watson with him, and as much as he'd deny it.. he has his family. I would rather want to become like my father."

The British Prime Minister opened his mouth to speak, but not before something caught his eye: the scratches on Nero's elbow.

Nero covered his arms with his bag quickly upon realization, but the damage was done; Mycroft knew what happened to his nephew. He straightened and turned to the window - his face now unreadable and dismissive, a sharp contrast to the previous expression he donned.

"Tyrants." He spoke after a moment's pause, "Although they do not hold a single grudge in comparison to our intellect, they are the worst and most destructive enemies, us, Holmes' are destined to face - other than criminal masterminds. They are the ghosts that haunt our every sunny day, scribbled letters we keep in the very back of our minds." Mycroft continued with a dangerous glint in his eyes, his gaze slowly turning to the boy in front of him, a corner of his lips jerking upward knowingly (that somehow reminded him of his father's), "And you, to no surprise, have your own fair share, Nero."

For the first time since he stepped into the car, he allowed a one-sided but warm smile to appear on his face and felt pride fill his body. He wasn't proud that generations and generations of the family were ganged up and hurt, just because of their inexplicably curious nature. No. He was proud of the fact that they simply acknowledge the particular attribute each of them holds, that this experience may wound and scar them, but will always have their prodigious intellect as plaster.

The car came to a halt and suddenly they were at the Bakerstreet pavement.

"Nevertheless," Mycroft ducked his head slightly and glanced upwards to see his brother watching the car from the window, and turned back to Nero, "I hope you take this little conversation of ours as a precaution to not take into account what those babbling baboons imply to yourself."

"You are a smart boy, Nero. Make use of your intellegence for the greater good."

With nothing else to say, the boy merely nodded slyly, grabbed his bag and went out the door. But as he stepped foot on the hard ground, his name was being called from inside the car.

"Nero."

The person donning the name ducked and poked his head inside with an expectant look on his pale face.

Mycroft hesitated and sighed in fustration, his lips pursed together in a thin line, "I-... I worry about you as I do with my brother. I don't want you going through what he did."

Nero ginned once again, this time honest and genuine, his eyes smiling along with his lips, "I am aware.. uncle."

Giving, one tight smile to Mycroft and his assisstant, Nero disappeared from the door and into 221B Bakerstreet.

It was then that Mycroft realized the boy was as much every bit of his brother, and at the same time, not.

\\~\\

First of all, thank you to everyone who read and had actually finished lmao. Second, WOHOO my first fic!!

I got this idea from my own headcanon that generations of Holmes' - from the Holmes parents, to Mycroft, Sherlock, and Eurus, then Nero - were belittled and made fun of, because of their extraordinary intellegence, whether that was in school, or in the world at large. So, I incorporated that into this fic, mixed in with 'responsible-and-protective-big-brother-Mycroft' but instead of brother, we have uncle to Nero because, why not?

I also sort of made this because I had writer's block and read somewhere to write what's inside your pretty little head to bring back your natural creativity...

But, back to the matter at hand, I hope you guys liked it and I would REALLY love if you left some feedback and suggestions as to how I can improve my writing skills.

Much love, R. xx

#nero wolfe #mycroft holmes #uncle mycroft #adlock #sherlock headcanon #adlock fanfics #irene adler #sherlock holmes #rosamund watson #john watson #holmes brothers #parent!lock #sherlock au

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elena-reina · 4 years

Text

Worth It - Draco Malfoy x Reader

Request: (1/3) heyyy, can you do an imagine that draco comforts you for having depression for whatever reason and one day he saw you standing on the roof of hog warts almost leaping off the balcony but he catches you in time (you can create the ending) thank u if you do!! :)) - Anon

(2/3) Can you do a one shot where Draco knows about the readers eating disorder and he helps her overcome it? I hope that makes sense, I love your stories so much, please don't stop writing! - Anon

(3/3) Yay, you’re back! I was wondering if you could do a Draco Malfoy x reader where he finds her self harming? I get it if you aren’t comfortable - Anon

Warnings: Very triggering- read with caution please, depression- suicide related, anorexia, self-harm

A/N: PLEASE READ! These three all fall under the same category for me, so I just combined them. I just want to make it clear that I am not, in any way, romanticizing or making it seem as though I am pro self-harm whatsoever; I purely write whatever requests come in. To those that do, I know you’ve got a lot going on and there is a lot of emotions, trauma, and hurt; believe me I know a lot about it. But it gets better, I promise you. It always gets better. Incase you all haven’t heard it, I love you, I care about you, and I know you’re strong enough to make it through anything. If anyone needs to talk, my messages are always open and again don’t ever think you’re not enough or worth it because you all are golden. You were put on this earth for a reason :)

Just another day on top of another.

Yawning, you lightly scratched your head and stood in front of your mirror in your dorm room; nothing covered you besides your undergarments. Looking up and down your body completely still, you wouldn’t be able to tell there was anything wrong. You lifted your arm and looked at your wrist leading down your forearm; the markings covered the insides of your arms and varied in color, shape, and size. Some of them were old, obvious by how they shined and caught light at just the right angle. Some were bright red and bold, there was no denying it. Most were about a month old, looking like a cat scratched you and drew blood; which would be believeable considering you owned a cat- Pumpkin; some you could also blame on an accident.

Well, what kind of accident?

Well, you didn’t have that answer. Not as if anyone were to ask anyways due to the fact that you kept them hidden in the first place.

You started at your feet, averting your eyes from your own reflection. Your feet were bony and thin, like the rest of your body. Raising your gaze, you winced at the emaciated figure that stared back at yourself.

What had you let yourself become?

To others, you looked sickly.

Had you come to Hogwarts like this initially? No. It was harder to hide it at home, so your mind never crossed it other than maybe dark thoughts here and there.

Did you have a good life at home? Well, that’s subjective. You had a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and food in the fridge. All the necessary things to provide as a necessity to live.

But did you have genuine friends, loving parents, and a place to call home? No.

Your once plump and vibrant self, now looked thin to the bone. Once the soul becomes so thin, the body will inevitably follow in its footsteps like a wandering toddler, learning and adapting from the shadows within. Instead of a growing sense of ultimate self-love, self-worth, or self-positivity, the soul doesn’t have the strength to ascend upwards to health anymore. And so it is extremely hard to eat more, even when it is a simple bite at a time; drink more, with a tiny sip of water needed to survive; live more, the simple act of breathing eventually gets difficult from time to time; and ultimately hard to listen to that part of yourself that wants to stay alive and be loved.

Would you still go to the Grand Hall? Well of course, if there was one thing you hated more than yourself was unwanted attention. Part of you belives it’s your fault that you don’t have friends soley because of how introverted you are. And with the friends, well friend, that you do have just so happens to be the person most people don’t get along with; Draco Malfoy.

What’re the odds.

There definitely was more to it than just being “friends” with Draco, but neither of you fully acknowledged it. He knew about your eating disorder, and he tries his best to help you, encouraging you every step of the way- even when you blatantly push him away.

You never asked for help- Not that he cared if you did or didn’t anyway.

Turning away from the mirror, you slipped on your white button up shirt making sure to clip the button around your wrist, taking attention away for your skin. Sliding on your skirt, Y/H tie, and your Y/H robe, you were ready to head down for breakfast.

Your hand rested on the cold metal door knob, as you stared at the small piece of silver metal on top of your dresser; whom you have a terrible relationship with. You bit your lip, hesitating. You knew you shouldn’t take it. You knew you shouldn’t have it on you because it will only ingite triggers.

Fuck it.

You quickly walked over to your dresser and picked up the sharp piece to put in your pocket. Spinning on your heel, you headed on out of the room and to the Grand Hall.

You walked through the aisles, and immediately met with Draco’s eyes. He lit up and waved you over to your usual seat right beside him. He scooted over, patting the space next to him as you sat down. He grinned, happy to see you.

“G’morning, Y/N,” he said pulling you into a tight hug. He was always careful when touching you because he felt like he could snap you in half if he were to be too rough on you.

You smiled warmly, breathing in his calming smell. “Good morning, Draco.”

“Alright, I know we’ve been doing baby steps for the longest time, but I think you are just about ready,” he spoke.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What’re you talking about?”

He leaned over the table and placed food onto your plate, more than he’s put on the last times. Before it would just be pieces of fruit here and there, maybe a piece of sausage; but this time he put a waffle, more fruit, and two slices of bacon.

Your stomach gurgled for the food, desperate to be full off of something. But at the same time, you felt sick to your stomach.

“Draco, this is too much. I’m not even all that hungry. We had a big dinner the night before remember?”

“Nonesense, you literally only ate a handfull of rice and two small pieces of asparagus last night. Even my owl eats more than that,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

You stared at your plate, leaning back. Your tongue felt dry, despite your cup of water being right in front of you. Your throat felt as if someone thrust a handful of itching powder down and it was dying to be coughed out. If possible, you could sit in the chair for fifteen hours straight; you just weren’t in the mood to eat.

“Listen, you don’t have to eat it all, but please try for me.”

You nodded and picked up your fork, stabbing to the orange melon. Bringing it to your lips, you slowly chewed as your stomach was growling in pleasure being finally fed.

Draco cheered you on with every bite, causing you to laugh. He wanted to distract you so that you focused less on what you’re eating and more on conversing with him so you weren’t as distracted with how much you were eating.

Eventually, you finished about half the waffle, all your fruit, and had no more bacon left. You were surprised at yourself when you looked back at your plate and then to him.

“I’m so proud of you! You ate more than I expected- not that I am complaining, I’m definitely not because I am really happy for you,” he quickly chuckled, “Maybe tomorrow we can put two waffles.” He nudged the side of your bony rib jokinly.

“Ha ha very funny,” you joked, rolling your eyes.

After some time, you had to go to class. Sadly, you didn’t share many classes with Draco if at all. Walking into potions, you sat in your usual seat in the back of the room. As usual, there were always a few Slytherin’s that would pester you solely because you were one of the few people in the school who was able to even share the same space as Draco; it was pure jealousy but you didn’t have a say in anything, or even how your friendship blossomed in the first place.

“Y/L/N,” Daphne sneered, leaning close to your face.

You really tried your best to focus on your Potions book but the group of girls that taunt you every single day just so happened to want to be extra annoying and sit around you. And when I say around you, I mean literally in front of you, next to you, on both sides, and even behind you. You lifted your head from your hand to looked at Daphne in front of you, considering she was right in your face. You opened your mouth to speak, but she beat you to it.

“I really don’t understand how us purebloods are forced to associate with people like you rotting mudbloods,” she giggled, making a disgusted expression as she said the last part. Her friends burst out into obnoxious laughter.

You weren’t even a mudblood. You had friends who weren’t magical, but that only led people to paint you as a mudblood.

"Can’t say anything? Can’t stick up for yourself Y/L/N? My goodness, do you even speak or is that too hard for you?” Sarah on the side of you asks, awaiting your response, “I see the way you have Draco baby you. It’s pathetic really.”

They took your silence as an answer and continued but this time it was Heather behind you. "See, she doesn’t even deny it,” she snickered, "Just look at you. I don’t see what he sees in you. You look like, I don’t even know how to say it, a walking pole-”

“No, a broken twig!” Daphne interjected, laughing.

“Yes a broken twig!” Heather continued, slowly enunciating each word, “Nothing but a pathetic, filthy, mudblood who pretends to be sick just to get the attention from those who actually matter.”

Each word felt like a stab in an open wound over and over again, being thrusted through your entire body. Tears welled up in your eyes as you blankly stared down at your Potions book, threatening to fall at any given moment.

“What? Cat’s still got your tongue?” Alicia from the other side of you jerked, shoving on your roughly causing you to bump into Sarah. Sarah let out a disgusted groan and pushed you back off of her.

“Gross! Do not touch me!” she gagged, as Heather joined in and pushed you to the point that you fell out of your seat and roughly onto the floor with a loud smack.

“HEY! LEAVE HER ALONE!” someone in the classroom, whom you recognized as Justin Finch-Fletchley, spoke loudly finally witnessing what was happening.

Tears silently cascaded down your cheeks. He quickly jogged over to you as the mean girls dispersed to a different part of the classroom snickering together.

“Are you alright?” he asked concerned, extending his arm out towards you. You looked at his hand through blurry eyes and nodded, lightly grabbing onto him. He helped you to your feet. Grabbing onto your book, you turned and rushed out of the room and headed in the direction of the bathroom.

Keeping you head low, you sped walked, and crashed into someone that sent you flying to the floor. Choking over your tears, you didn’t bother to look at who it was and instead rushed to find your Potions book and hurry out of there.

“Y/N?” that familiar voice spoke.

Draco.

You still avoided eyecontact as you kept searching to your book only to find him holding onto it, to give to you. Standing up, you straightened out your skirt. Lightly grabbing it, you whispered a quiet thank you and tried to continue down the hallway. He stopped you grabbing onto your arm, alarmed.

“Woah, wait. What’s going on, what happened, what’s wrong?” he asked all at once as he watched the translucent tears glide down the sides of your face. You stood straight.

“Please, let me go,” you spoke softly, your voice slightly cracking.

“Was someone saying bullshit to you? Did someone hurt you? Because you know I’m always here for you and I’ll make sure they don’t say anything to or about you ever again.” He growls getting angrier by the second.

“I just really want to be left alone, Draco. I’m sorry,” you said snatching your arm back and sped walked down the hallway.

His scowl lightens, worrying for you. He slowly followed you.

Initially you wanted to go to the bathroom, but changed your mind last minute. Turning a different corner, you kept going up more and more stairs until you inevitably reached the top of the Hogwarts building. Rushing to the edge, you dropped your book onto the floor and stood slightly leaning over the edge to get a good look at the bottom of the building with your hair flowing in the wind. It was a long way down that will ultimately end up in costing you your life. Trying to force yourself out of your thoughts, you looked in your pocket for that piece of metal, grateful that you grabbed it earlier. Frantically unbuttoning the shirt around your wrist, you felt numb as you choked over your tears silently.

“I’m not worth it,” you thought to yourself.

You stood on the brink of something you couldn't describe. The weight of everything seemed to press down on your shoulders and you struggled to take even a single step forward towards anything positive.

You felt worthless.

A waste of space. A waste of air. A waste of life.

It was too much. All of it.

The tingle as the sharp metal glided against your skin provided a senseless, numb feeling. Every step cost you as the darkness in your mind grew darker and darker; the pain grew sharper and stronger; all of it seemed to only swell in strength and you began to wonder if things could ever get better.

You were tired of feeling things. Everyday felt like never ending dread. With an exception of Draco, nothing seemed worth it anymore. Hell, Draco will only end up forgetting about you in the end of it all.

You don’t play that much of a significant role in his life to matter to him in the long run.

Sometimes you wonder if someone ever notices that sad, broken look in your eyes that you see in the mirror that are masked with a smile and fake enthusiasm.

If they see beauty where you see ugliness.

You laugh, traveling up your arm going over old scars, a bitter, sarcastic laugh, at yourself. Nobody cares. No one notices.

They never seem to, do they? You’ve fought for years, all for what.

The crimson liquid dripped down your arm, falling onto the stone floor. The wind pushed and howled against you as though to try and shove you back. Clumsily, you dropped your metal blade.

“No!” you shouted, dropping to your knees and it fell further and further, out of your sight. You choked over your sobs, feeling broken. Your arm stung and you looked at it through blurry tears.

“I can’t take this anymore,” you spoke aloud to yourself and shakily stood up. You inched closer and closed on the edge, as you looked up inhaling the fresh air. With one last breath, you closed your eyes, opened your arms, and took your last step forward and felt the pressure of the wind beat you on the way down.

The blackness behind your eyes was perfect. It provided a visual silence that gave a respected admiration. With your eyes closed there was the simple sweetness of the longing of existing, of being, of breathing, and how those moments extended with such grace until you are met with the concluding dark abyss.

Prior while had Draco followed you, he could feel the dark and depressive energy emerging out of your presense. He knew you needed your space, but something was off. The higher and higher you went up the stairs, he had enough of following you and simply looked up. Only the worse things plagued his mind as he quickly rushed back down the stairs and sprinted through the halls to hurry and get outside. He had no seconds to waste, because he had a feeling you were going to try and jump.

He could’ve followed you all the way to the top, but if you had jumped he would’ve been to late. At least this way, he had a chance of catching you.

Ignoring the pain in his chest from running, he ran pushing anyone and everyone who got in his way.

Darting outside, his eyes widened as he saw your body flying down the side of the building. With one last push of exertion, he caught you in his arms just in time. He fell forward into the floor, but was sure to cradle your head so you got the least amount of injury.

Breathing heavily up and down. You opened your eyes and met Draco’s silver, scared ones. You didn’t know what to think. You didn’t think he was going to be there. Your fresh wounds, began to soak up in his white shirt. Draco sees them, the sight of your new scars reveal themselves to him. He sees your arm, not that he’s surprised. Still being held in his arms protectively, he starts to cry.

“Y/N,” he says your name like you had just broken his heart.

Your throat tightens and you feel yourself on the brink of tears as your eyes stung. You didn’t know what to say. You were broken.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, not knowing what else to say or do. “I’m sorry. I–”

He interrupts you. “Why...” he stammers gazing down at your arm, “How many times?” He rang a soft finger down your arm, wincing at every raw wound.

“I don’t know,” you mumbles.

“For fuck’s sake,” he cried out, his tears dripping off his chin. “I’m sorry I wasn’t…I wasn’t there for you enough.”

You shake your head, “No, Draco, it wasn’t your fault–”

Draco looked down at you with confusion and anger before he smashed his desperate lips onto yours.

Suddenly, the anger, the self-hatred, the loathing, the rage left your body for a split moment. It diminished as soon as his lips pressed against yours in a long over-due, intense passion. It was as if he was taking all away all your pain and misery and threw it away.

You kissed him back with burning amount of fiery love he was kissing you with. Your lips worked hungrily against his as his hands snaked their way to your waist and pulled your shaking body closer to his to kiss you deeper.

Your cold hands grabbed his face and pulled it closer to yours, if that was even possible. His calming scent flowed through your nostils, making your eyes water under your closed eyes.

Too many emotions were going through your brain and you couldn’t handle it. Deep down, you had always dreamt of being with Draco. Although, you wish that it could have happened under very different and happier circumstances. Nonetheless, you were grateful.

Pulling away, he gazed into your eyes. “Y/N, can you answer me why? Why didn’t you come and talk to me.”

You tried diverting your gaze, but he grabbed your chin with his hand lightly to keep his eyes locked with yours. “Please.”

“I can’t take it anymore. I hate myself and everything I stand for,” you began to cry, “I just... I just thought it would make it easier for everyone else if I were to end everything and erase myself from existence.”

“I would miss you and I don’t know what I would do without you. What if I had just offed myself and left you there to wonder where you went wrong.”

You broke down into sobs, burying your face into his neck as he embraced you in a tight hug.

You shook. “I... I know, but I’m nothing special. I’m just–”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he snapped harshly. “You are so fucking perfect, it drives me insane. I love you so goddamn much, do you know that? Do you? I love you too much to let you keep doing this to yourself. You are worth it. You are loved. You are my everything. I want you to remember that feeling you had right now at the thought of me ending my life, because that’s what you’re doing to me whenever you cut me out of your life like I’m nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” you cried lifting your head sniffing, “Draco, I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I swear. I was just…I was just..” but you didn’t have any excuse, so you collapsed back into his warm embrace.

“I know,” he murmurs against your hair. “I know. I love you. I love you so much.”

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jebazzled · 3 years

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it ain’t your muse! (shut up & write, ft. rihanna)

You nerds are always talking about your muse. My muse this, my muse that, I have no muse, my muse went the way of the dinosaurs, if my muse comes out of its burrow and sees its shadow I won’t be able to write for six weeks.

Shut up about your fucking muse!

It is true that you might go through periods where it is hard to find time and energy to write, or negative experiences in a writing community might leave you with anxiety surrounding writing. But by and large, writers block is something you can overcome!

Please, for the love of god, let me help you.

Writing is a muscle, and you’ve got to exercise it if you don’t want it to atrophy.

This tutorial is a bit of tough love about y’all and y’all’s diddly-darn muses, and some advice for snapping yourself out of it!

So here’s the thing about writing, my loves. You have to actually do it.

TERRIBLY inconvenient, I know.

I’m not here to tell you how to manage your work-life balance or how to manage your time. If you’re not writing much because you straight up don’t have time to write much, my advice is simple: pare down on your characters, focus on the plots that matter most to you, and spend some mental health juice on reminding yourself that there isn’t an RP Prom Queen, and even if there were, it’s better not to live or die by that bizarro crown.

But if you’re having trouble writing because of Your Muse... I’m cracking my knuckles.

We’ve all written with folks before - or been that folk before - who need a very specific set of circumstances if they’re going to write: they need time to Pinterest, need to listen to a specific playlist, need to get in the mindset, need the thread to scratch a very specific itch and need all of it to come together before the moon passes out of a waxing gibbous. As a fellow dev ho, I understand the appeal of writing to suit a mood, of vibing to a playlist, of prioritizing the stuff you’re going fucking feral for, of having the stars align while you do the thing. But if you’re like this when you’re writing for other people -

well, you’re making things difficult for both you and your writing partners! We can’t control the external constraints on our time, e.g. work and school, and we can’t always control the nonsense our psychology spins to keep us from writing. But some things are within our control, and by god, if there is any control to be had in the year of Mother Sappho 2021, don’t you want it?

At least some of your writers block is probably dumb as hell. So let’s beat the shit out of that part.

Anyway, if you’re yakking on and on about how your muse demands a bottle of red wine and a scented candle and fairy lights and soft socks and the blood of the servant, willfully given in order to spit out 200 words, or whatever...

it’s not that fucking deep.

Writing is a muscle. It’s like any other muscle: you need to exercise it.

If you’re training for a 5k, you don’t sit on your couch listening to “Eye of the Tiger” until race day. You get your ass off the cushion and pound the pavement. You probably start by alternating walks with short bursts of running. You probably don’t work your way up to actually running 5k at a time for a few weeks. And once you’ve run that first 5k, you don’t go sit on your couch to listen to “Eye of the Tiger” until the next race. You keep running to stay in shape for the next race.

Writing is like that.

What you write does not have to be perfect.

You can work on the post for six weeks and there will still be things you could change. You know what change your writing partner would have appreciated most? If you’d posted it for them three weeks ago. Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good.

Cut yourself the same slack you cut for your writing partners. Do you yearn to keelhaul them if their reply isn’t worth a National Book Award? No, because you’re not an asshole. They’re also not an asshole. Everyone is reasonable here. Write something that responds to what they gave you and that gives them something to work with. Not every single post has to be capital-I Inspired. ✨

What you write does not have to be a vibe ready for the Goop newsletter.

I was a creative writing major in college, and I was always having to turn stuff in for class that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to work on: a short story set in another country when I just wanted to write a play with puppets, an essay about food when I would rather write one about a weekend drive, etc.

Sometimes, you write what you write when you write it not because it’s getting you hot and bothered but because you’ve owed a reply for A While and you feel bad about keeping someone waiting. It will still be fun, because you chose to do that thread with your character and someone else’s character for a reason, and that reason stands, even if your monkey brain is yearning to play with that slime that makes fart noises when you put it away.

(Pro tip, here: don’t do threads you don’t actually have any interest in writing! It is less awkward to tell someone, “I am not interested in my character weed whacking your character’s lawn” than to waste their time with 10 posts of it before telling them, “I am not interested in my character weed whacking your character’s lawn.”)

The more you write, the easier it is.

Let’s talk about running again. A couple of years ago, I went on a bit of a kick with the running. I ran at least three times a week. I would bring my running shit with me to work so I could run in the park near my office. I would make running dates with friends. I would reward myself with a bagel from my favorite cafe if I did a run. And you know what? Once I got myself past the hurdle of pulling on my running clothes and lacing up my shoes, I enjoyed myself. When I ran 5k without slowing to a walk, I was proud of myself. When I told myself, “let’s do another loop at the park!” and stopped to take a photo of the sunset, I enjoyed myself. I would not have enjoyed myself if I hadn’t hit the goddamn pavement.

Put your ass in your fucking chair. I don’t care if you don’t have the right scented candle. Write 50 words. Right fucking now. I’ll wait.

Write another 50.

Now write another 100.

How long did that take you? Some days, it might take you 90 minutes to write 200 words. But that’s 200 more words than you would have written in 90 minutes of browsing Pinterest waiting for an angel to come down from heaven and write this post for you.

All that bullshit you do to Feed Your Muse? It’s stalling, you idiot.

The more you make yourself write instead of just thinking about writing, the easier it will be to actually fucking write.

I used to sit and stare at posts for hours and hours and hours before submitting them, so worried about the post being good enough. When I moved to a neighborhood with an aboveground train line, I was able to write on my morning commute, and writing every morning - even if only the 200 words I could crank out on mobile in 30 minutes before work - got me out of my weird writers block crutches and security blankets. It didn’t take as much effort to write, anymore. I wrote over 200,000 words in 2019, and over 300,000 words in 2020, when I had barely any commute at all to use on writing. I didn’t magically have endless hours of free time. I just wasn’t wasting my free time pretending that being on Tumblr counted as writing.

Tough love: doled out. And now:

TIPS & TRICKS FOR BEATING “””Writers Block”””

Stop acting like Writers Block is real. It’s not that it’s not real, but by telling yourself that you have Writers Block, you’re making it worse for yourself. You’re making excuses for yourself. I used Writers Block to stall writing my Topics in Creative Writing: Folktales portfolio for 3 months, and you know what happened? I still had to turn in the fucking portfolio, because the person I was writing for didn’t fucking care about my fucking Writers Block. And you know who had to sit her ass in a chair and write 30 pages of folktales in a 24 hour period? Me. It’s almost like my Writers Block was just PROCRASTINATION.

Set a timer. If you’re looking at your list of replies owed and you’re feeling like it might be easier to “do character dev” and “build a playlist” than to write your posts, break the task into smaller pieces. If your server has a sprint bot, use it. If not, set your own timer. Organize your list of threads with the ones you’ve owed replies on the longest at the top. Set your timer for 20 minutes and see how much you can write for the oldest post you owe. Not done? Set the timer for another 20 minutes. Keep setting that timer until that post is done and you can drop it in the tags channel. Now do the same for the second oldest. CRANK! THEM! OUT! If you find that it’s depleting your creative energy, that’s not unusual! When I get to this point in my own posting habits, my oldest replies owed are usually for Albus Dumbledore, a character I write specifically because I hate him. It is often easier to knock out all his posts in one chunk rather than shift voice, so this ends up working out nicely.

Don’t indulge your stupid stalling tactics. Do you typically get sidetracked by Pinterest? Put your phone away and close that tab. Do you get absorbed in lining up the perfect music for writing a post? Write in silence, asshole. Do you need to be in your favorite chair with the right lighting? Go sit on a park bench and write on mobile. It’s nice to write in idealized environments. I rented a treehouse last summer to write 10k on a novel! I get it! But you absolutely can write in other environments, if you have to. And if you can get yourself to write on a dark skin on your iPad at an airport in the Midwest while waiting for a flight - well, shit, think of how much you’ll be able to write on a laptop when your diva ass demands are properly met!

Don’t take on shit you don’t want to write. I fully admit that these tactics feel a bit like homework/chores/a to-do list for what is of course a fun hobby. You know how they say “love what you do and you’ll never work a day in your life?” If you don’t take on plots, characters, and threads that don’t have a lick of interest or excitement for you, this shit won’t feel like a hassle.

Hope this whips all you little miscreants (myself included) into shape! Now quit your yapping and start writing.

#rp guides #resources #writing resources #on writing #stop trying to make writers block happen. it's not going to happen.

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