#I shouldn’t have overslept :l
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I’m getting deja vu every thirty seconds or so and it’s scaring me so bad
#it’s an aura for my seizures but it never happens this much#I shouldn’t have overslept :l#idk if I should go er or wait to see if I’ll have a grand mal or my regular#simple partial seizures#seizures#frontal lobe seizures
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Hey, l really enjoy your fics!
Maybe this is a weird request but I love sick fics! Could you do a tasm!peter x reader where reader gets carsick?
Even if you don’t do the request, thank you so much for all your other writing!
AN | So I misread this and made it just sick!reader, but I hope y’all done mind 🥺 Enjoy ❤️
Pairing | TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
Warnings | None
Word Count | 1.8k
Masterlist | Main | Peter
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
You felt like you were on death’s doorstep from the moment you opened your eyes and were hit with the blinding light of the afternoon sun. Oh no. You had overslept. Not only had you slept all of the alarms you’d set, you were sick. That much was obvious from the burning in your throat, your sore body, and the raging headache. Today was most decidedly not going to be a beautiful day. The only good thing was that you didn’t have to work today and your missed classes would be easy enough to catch up on.
“Ugh,” you groaned as you rubbed at your sleepy eyes, sitting back down on the bed. Your energy was practically nonexistent and you couldn’t even think straight. Your phone was sitting on the nightstand, so you grabbed it and saw that you had a lot of notifications - missed calls from a couple of friends that were in your classes, as well as texts wondering where you were. The majority though, not surprisingly, were from your boyfriend. See one Peter Parker. Judging from his texts, you were honestly surprised he hadn’t come over and broken down your door to make sure you were still alive.
You decided to quickly call him to let him know everything was okay before going back to bed and attempting to sleep this all off. It rang just once before he picked up with a worried, “hello?”
“Hi Petey,” your voice sounded as awful as you felt, all scratchy and croaky. You could practically feel him cringing on the other end of the line, “‘m sick. I just woke up.”
“Babe,” he sighed lightly, already mentally planning on how he was going to take care of you and make you feel better, “I was so worried. But - and no offense, light and love of my life - you sound terrible. I’ll be over soon to-”
“Peter no-”
“Peter yes.”
“Honey boy,” you laughed lightly…before breaking into a small coughing fit. You held the phone away from your face and sighed softly at yourself, “I’m okay-”
“You’re anything but okay. It sounded like you just coughed up a lung!”
“Fine,” you nodded despite the fact that he couldn’t see you, “but I will be okay. Please don’t worry about me. Besides, I don’t want you to come over and get sick too. We shouldn’t both be suffering! A few days apart and I’ll be back to normal.”
You knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. That was not his style; he had so many good qualities, stubbornness among them. Sometimes it was hard to tell if that was a good or bad trait. You were flattered though that he was willing to risk himself getting sick in order to take care of you. You were doubtful about a lot of things, but his love was never one of them.
“You realize that isn’t going to stop me, right?” you could hear the smug little smile on his face, “has it ever worked in the past?”
“Not once,” you admitted softly, “what if you come and I don’t let you in?”
“I have a key.” Oh yeah.
“Well…”
“You don’t think I could lock pick? Get in through a window? Literally anything?” he sounded so pleased and you couldn’t help but playfully groan at him, “nothing you could say or do is going to keep me from coming to see you. So…what kind of soup do you want? Chicken noodle, tomato, something else?”
“Peter,” you loved this man; you really really did. You paused for a moment and grabbed your water bottle and took a long drink to soothe your burning throat, “butternut squash, please. Maybe some ginger ale…and maybe some fresh fruit or something.”
“There’s my girl,” he relaxed slightly at the fact that you were going to let him take care of you, “do you have tea? Tissues? Cold and cough medicine?”
“No, no, and no,” you answered with a pitiful little laugh, “I am wholly unprepared for anything and everything. You don’t have to get all of that for me. I’ll be okay without it.”
“Nonsense,” he tutted softly, “I’ll get everything and be over soon, okay? Just try and relax for now, maybe get some rest? I can help with everything else once I’m there.”
“Thank you,” you whispered softly, “I love you, Peter. So much.”
“I love you too,” he promised sweetly, “see you soon, baby.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
You were out like a light and back to sleep within minutes of hanging up with Peter. When you woke up to the noise of him stumbling into your apartment, you startled awake but quickly relaxed when you realized it was him. Leaving it to Spider-Man to fumble around like a fool. Wrapping your big blanket around your frame, you padded into the kitchen where you found him unpacking everything he’d gotten. To say he went overboard was an understatement. There were lots of soups, snacks, teas, and various cold medicines to last you a lifetime.
“Petey,” you croaked and his attention snapped to you. A big smile spread across his features, wavering only when he saw the pallor of your skin and how miserable you looked. You felt just about as good, “hi.”
“Hi,” he stopped what he was doing, in front of you within moments and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. You let yourself meld into his body, letting him dwarf you, “how are you feeling?”
“About as good as I look,” you said with a sheepish smile, “thank you for coming, despite me telling you not to come.”
“When have I ever listened to you?” there was a teasing glint in his big brown eyes as you rolled your own dramatically.
“It wouldn’t hurt for you to start Peter Parker,” he took your hand and started pulling you towards your bedroom, “what’re you doing?”
“First things first,” he stated simply, opening the door to your ensuite bathroom, “you’re taking a bath-”
“Are you saying I stink?” you stuck your lower lip out in a pout as he laughed and turned on the tap to just the warmth you liked.
“I’m not saying that,” he insisted, pouring in some of your bubble bath, “I just think it would help you feel better. But…now that you mention it, you don’t smell…the freshest. Hey - ow!”
He was laughing despite his feigned hurt as you lightly smacked his chest. You were well aware of the fact that you probably looked incredibly pathetic as you stood there, pouty and bundled up, “can’t help it. ‘m sick, Petey.”
“I’m well aware baby,” he stuck a hand into the water to make sure it wasn’t scalding before making a small sound of content. Gentle hands reached for the duvet around you, peeling it from your body as he set it down. You shivered at the loss of warmth, but he made quick work of closing you closer to him and gently helping you out of your pajamas. His touch was so soft and reverent that it almost made you want to cry; you were already in your own feelings with being sick, but there was something about Peter’s quiet love that was about to push you over the edge.
“C’mere,” he motioned for you to lift your arms over your head and he pulled your shirt off and tossed it to the side. He’d worry about different clothes and blankets later. He reached for the waistband of your bottoms, causing you to hold onto him for balance as he slid them down your legs and you kicked them off. His hand went to yours as he helped you into the warm bath, making sure you weren’t going to slip. The last thing either of you needed was a spontaneous trip to the emergency room. You settled in and let out a small, content sigh, “better?”
“Much,” he plopped down on the floor next to you, flicking a few of the lavender scented bubbles at you. You leaned on the edge of the tub and reached over to touch his face. You cupped his cheek before gently stroking your thumb over it. You really wanted to pull him in for a kiss, but also didn’t want to kiss him with what you were sure was horrible breath, and potentially get him sicker. He must have read your mind because he took your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, “thank you for coming. You’re my hero.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he grinned from ear to ear as a light flush of pink rose up in his cheeks. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, “come on, you know you want to.”
“Don’t wanna get you sick.”
“Too late for that.”
“Bad breath.”
“I’ve dealt with worse,” he didn’t wait for you to argue again before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You practically melted at the feeling, wishing the moment never had to end. But your congestion made you short of breath and you were pulling back much sooner than you would have liked, “not even that stinky.”
“Thanks,” you snorted in amusement, “love you, Petey.”
“Love you more,” he booped your nose before reaching for your shampoo, “lemme help you and then when you’re all clean, you can take a nap while I make you something to eat.”
“You’re really going to stay?” your eyes were so wide and innocent that he couldn’t help but lean in and steal a few more kisses.
“You didn’t think I was just going to come by and drop stuff and then head out?” Of course you didn’t. He would never, but you still wanted to give him a last out. You shook your head, “well, hate to break it to you, but I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me until you’re better.”
“I hope I’m stuck with you forever.”
“Well that too,” he insisted softly, “that’s always a given.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he pressed tender kisses all over your fast, “always.”
#tasm!peter#peter parker x reader#peter parker x fem!reader#peter parker x you#andrew garfield x reader#andrew garfield x you#andrew garfield
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Hakuoki Character Drama CD Book Vol 3 - Harada
Typed out “Haradad” by accident when I was typing out who the speaker was for one of the lines in this drama... i think i want to go crawl into a hole and hide now.
*insert pathetic laugh here*
lol. in my defence, the content of this did not help. Also I’d rank Yamazaki higher than Harada.
anyway.
enjoy!
Hakuoki Character Drama CD Book Vol 3 Harada Sanosuke-hen Winter Story
Translation by KumoriYami
Act 1
Location: Bedroom
Time: Morning
【Leaving the country we came from to come here, Sanosuke-san and I crossed the sea to get to this northern country. The winters in this coastal town are extremely cold, and the icy winds coming in from the sea are bone-chilling. However, we've built a family in this country, and narrating our own happy times——】
Yukimura:...Nn....
【Although the winds outside were extremely cold, I still felt very warm with my child wrapped in the blankets, and I unwittingly forgot what time it was... 】
SE: rustle
【I was woken up by the sound of Sanosuke-san changing clothes, he turned his head.】
Harada: Sorry, did I wake you?
Yukimura: Eh.... Ah, Sanosuke-san?
SE: Getting out of bed sound
Yukimura: So-Sorry! I... I overslept...!
Harada: Don't worry about it, I woke up early. Furthermore, [our] child seemed to have been crying for a long time last night, so you must be pretty tired.
Yukimura; Yes..... but
Harada: You both seemed to be sleeping so peacefully, and I feel happy just from seeing your sleeping faces.
【I looked at the child sleeping next to me, who just woke up. He seemed to be in a good mood at this time, and even though he was a bit difficult at times, he was mostly an honest child.】
Harada: This child also slept peacefully, so he's happy this morning. Well, it's truly great that he was able to sleep with his mother
SE: baby's laughter
Harada: See, he also said that he's happy. Besides, the sun hasn't come out yet, it'll be fine if you sleep a little longer.
Yukimura: Thank you. Even so... Sanosuke-san, you still got up very early today.
Harada: I have to go to a distant sentry post to observe the situation today, which is I need to leave early.
Yukimura: Is that so
Harada: Dad's going to work now, so be a good boy
SE: baby's laughter
Yukimura: Have a pleasant journey, Sanosuke-san... stay safe.
Harada: Yeah, you should also pay attention to staying warm, and even if you're at home, it'll still be cold today so don't get sick. Then I'll be setting off now.
SE: the sound of a horse's galloping hooves
【As soon as the door opened, some of daybreak's chilly air difted into the house, and Sanosuke-san braved the cold as he rode away, disappearing into the darkness in the blink of an eye. 】
--------
Act 2
Location: living room
Time: evening
【With a child, the day passes very quickly.】
Yukimura: It's almost time to prepare dinner.
SE: footsteps
Harada: I'm back
Yukimura: Welcome home, Sanosuke-san
Harada: I'm back, how were you today, nothing happened, right?
Yukimura: Nn. It wasn't too cold today, so I took this child to play outside for a while.
SE: baby's laughter
Harada: Is that so. Did you protect your mother while i wasn't here?
SE: baby's laughter
Yukimura: really, shouldn't it be other way around? I should be the one protecting this child.
Harada: Haha, that's right. You're already a qualified mother... Thank you for protecting our home/family everyday.
Yukimura: How can that be... Sanosuke-san is the one working hard everyday.
Harada: What, a job like this is nothing, [though] it's great to be able to come home early.
【At that moment, I noticed that Sanosuke-san was holding a package didn't recognize, just was [in?]it?】
Yuimura: ? Sanosuke-san, that package is...?
Harada: oh, almost forgot
SE: The sound of a package being put down
Harada: This package was given to me by the man who was in charge of the lookout post last month, saying that it was my share. It's venison that was caught by someone who's good at hunting.
【As he spoke, he opened the package to showed it to me.】
Yukimura: Wow, there's so much
【The weather in this land is extremely cold, and during winter, it becomes a barren land. However, the people give food to one another like this to support each other.】
Harada: Are you going to start making dinner now?
Yukimura; Yes, I'll start right away
【With that, I got up and prepared to head into the kitchen.】
Harada: So, since we managed to get this, why don't we have venison tonight?
Yukimura: Ah, yes. Then... drink some wine first and [I'll] grill it.
Harada: Aahh, I'll leave it to you. Let me play together with my adorable son first.
【After he spoke, Sanosuke-san lifted up the baby up high.】
SE: baby's laughter
Harada: Up high! Isn't this fun! How about this! Watch this!
SE: baby's laughter
Yukimura: Oh, it seems like you're having a lot of fun... Then please look after our child.
Harada: Aahh, leave it to me
【As I listened to the laughter of the two people behind me, I happily walked into the kitchen.】
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Act 3
Location: Living room
Time: night
【The temperature during the day isn't too cold, but in the evening, it gets worse. Strong winds make the windows rattle.】
SE: Sound of strong winds
SE: Sound of windows shaking
Harada: The weather's gotten worse. It was good to have come home early.
Yukimura: Yes. This weather Horses aren't able to run in this weather.
Harada: Nn.... Thanks to you, I was able to enjoy such a delicious dinner.
SE: The sound of tableware clattering
Yukimura: How does the venison taste?
Harada: It's delicious and doesn't have any fishy smell. I feel like I can eat as much as I want.
Yukimura: That's great. I made a lot, so eat up.
Harada: You seem to be very good at cooking with the meat and other ingredients here; when I was in the Shinsengumi, I've always thought that no one could match your cooking skills.
Yukimura: I'm really happy to hear you say that. When I first started living here, I suffered a lot of hardships [learning how] to cook.
Harada: I did too, and although I'm now familiar with the locals, it was really hard at the beginning. But looking back now, there are only good memories.
Yukimura; Yes.
【As I chatted with Sanosuke-san, I suddenly recalled when we lived in Japan... when i started living with the Shinsengumi, and although the situation then might be different in Sanosuke-san's eyes, I think it's similar to now.】
Harada: It's a miracle that complete outsiders like us were even accepted.
Yukimura; Yes, it must be because Sanosuke-san is a very popular person.
Harada: I'm popular? It's certainly as you say, [but] aren't we also popular because you're a good person?
Yukimura: Why do you say that?
Harada: Everyone time someone who lives nearby gets sick, aren't you always the first person to take care of them? It's only natural that someone who does so much for people without asking for anything in return will be trusted.
Yukimura: That... I simply did would should be done...
Harada: it's already very difficult for me to do. Thanks to you, we are now fully accepted as people in this neighborhood. This is all your credit.
Yukimura; Sanosuke-san...
Harada: If there aren't any acquaintance/friends nearby, it would be very lonely. It'd be really hard to live like that. With such an environment, this child will be able to live well here.
Yukimura: Nn, yes
SE: baby's laughter
Harada: Lately, he's been smiling/laughing a lot. At the beginning, whenever I held him, he would get very restless, so it was really hard.
Yukimura: Aahh, yes. Nowadays this child is always very happy whenever Sanosuke-san holds him/lifts him up.
Harada: Speaking of which, when this child can walk/stand up on his own, why don't the three of us go somewhere else [tl says "distant place"] to play together? This child will have to ride a horse one day, so it'd be better to get used to it earlier.
Yukimura: I've already started thinking about the future.
Harada: That's as it should be, right? It's my duty as a father to consider the future of this child.
【When I first I arrived in this country, I couldn't even figure out my directions, but now this foreign land where I've built a family from nothing, has unexpectedly become so warm, which makes me extremely happy.】
--------
Act 4
Location
Time: Night
【After a lively dinner, doing some housework and [some] other things, the skies soon became dark. The winter climate in Ezo is also very harsh, and rarely will people be busy until late at night like in Kyoto, and most people will have already fallen asleep at night, waiting for the next day to arrive. 】
Harada: Oh, he seems to have fallen asleep.
Yukimura: yes, he was playing a long during the day, and is tired [now].
Harada: Haha, it seems that he's sound asleep... if this continues, he won't cry tonight, right?
Yukimura: I think he'll sleep until dawn...
Harada: Then you should also go take a bath and go to sleep.... Hah, I'm sleepy too.
Yukimura: Then, we'll go to sleep early.
Harada: Haha... I'm tired after riding a horse all day today.
Yukimura: Today was exhausting. I have to get up early tomorrow!
Harada: Hey, are you still worried about what happened this morning? You didn't oversleep, I got up early.
Yukimura: but...
Harada: Furthermore, it really won't matter if you sleep in tomorrow.
Yukimura: Eh...?
Harada: I'll rest at home tomorrow, [though?] it's not good for all three of us to sleep together/so it's fine if the three of us sleep together [one or the other. can be interpreted both ways though I think the latter makes more sense].
Yukimura: Sanosuke-san, tomorrow... you'll be resting?
Harada: Yeah, I have the whole day off, I haven't done that in a month.
【I was relieved to hear what Sanosuke-san said. Sanosuke-san job doesn't have holidays, and it was rare for him to come home early, rather, he almost always came back late at night... I'm worried that Sanosuke-san's body will collapse one day.】
Yukimura: That's great...
【Sanosuke-san seemed to know what I was thinking, and looked apologetic.】
Harada: I'm sorry for worrying you
Yukimura: No, that doesn't matter. But, take better care of your body.
Harada: Nn, however, you don't need to worry about me/my body though. You know, compared to how busy i was everyday when I was in the Shinsengumi, this is nothing.
【Sanosuke-san's words reminded me of those days, when indeed, everyone at that time barely had time to rest, and even and even if they were off-duty, they still had to go on patrol immediately.】
Harada: Besides, after surviving the war with great difficulty, and starting a family with you, I need to live well.
Yukimura: Sanosuke-san....
Harada: Of course, I understand your worries. After finally getting away from the war in Japan and coming to a place where I didn't need to take up arms, I still chose a job that required violence.
But, I don't regret it. In any case... what I need to protect now is different from the past.
We had a duty to protect Kyoto at that time then, and it didn't matter if we had to risk our lives [to do so]. That was true for me and for them.
But now, my duty is to protect you and this child. I have to work hard to take care of him, so I absolutely cannot die easily.
Thank you for coming with me to live in this foreign country.
Our family of three... No, perhaps that will increase in the future... regardless if that becomes four or more, I will do my best to protect you all.
Yukimura; Alright... I'll be relying on you.
Harada: Okay, we should sleep too. We've inadvertently been talking for too long, and it'd be bad if if woke up now and wanted to join us.
Yukimura: Yes... Hehe, this child is sound asleep...
SE: Baby's snoring
Harada: A child's sleeping face is truly wonderful I will never get tired of the sight of you and this child sleeping together.
Yukimura: Me too, if Sanosuke-san and our child sleep together, I won't be able to stop staring...
Harada: Haha, yeah. Apparently [we'll?] have to wake up early tomorrow to see [his?] sleeping face.
Yukimura: Yes... rest well, [and] please allow me to see your sleeping face, Sanosuke-san.
Harada: Aahh, it feels pretty good to be watched by you...... then I'll put out the light.
Yukimura: Nn...
【Sanosuke-san stretched his body to blow out the lantern that was next to his pillow. The room was immersed in darkness, and the sound of the wind from outside seemed to be louder. 】
Yukimura: good night, Sanosuke-san
Harada: Nn, good night.
Starring: Harada Sanosuke... Yusa Koji
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I think.. of the original routes, Souji and Heisuke are the only routes where kids/pregnancies haven’t ever mentioned?
For Hijikata, it’s in Reimeiroku.
For Saito, It’s in Ginsei no Shou.
For Harada, it’s canon.
For Kazama, it’s Tsukikage no Shou.
#hakuoki#hakuouki#harada sanosuke#Yukimura Chizuru#hakuoki drama#hakuoki drama cd#hakuoki drama translation
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Arigale: Spite in the Spirit Ch. 5 - Betwixt
Since the first five chapters are up on Amazon as a free preview anyways, I may as well bring them on here to remove the middle man and have it up to promo myself. I will not share more since the book is for sale and this is my job, but there is other free content for the series and more on my website at ArigaleFantasy.com. Now, here's the fifth chapter! (Keep in mind this is copy/paste from google docs and not my final pdf since it's taking away all my breaks doing that.)
You can find the first chapter here.
You can find the second chapter here.
You can find the third chapter here.
You can find the fourth chapter here.
Here is the fifth and final chapter that I will be putting up for preview! Many thanks if you have made it this far! Besides my website which links to stores in the paragraph above, you can also purchase the full book using these links on Amazon, Barnes&Noble, Apple, Indiebound, and Kobo. Enjoy! Feel free to message me with any questions, and yes, you can look at the trigger list in the descriptions before buying! 💜💙💜💙💜
The floorboards creaked in the dining hall; as Chit finally snuck into his placement at the far end of the long dining table. Members of the Dark all sat in a line. No one seemed significantly perturbed by his lateness, but his body held every muscle tensed like he was ready for a punch to be thrown. His wooden tableware didn’t offer the same gleam as that used at the Light table across the hall, yet he tried to crane his head just right to catch a glimpse of what his face might look like this morning. Proper excuses whirled about his thoughts to match it by the time he was approached. There was no way he wouldn’t be reprimanded, both for his missing curfew and his tardiness at breakfast. His shoulders dropped as he watched everyone else around him eat and held his hands together in his lap.
“About time. I made sure to save some for you. You’re never late.” Chinea’s sweet voice reached his ears, and they both burned. He was caught. It could be much worse.
“I-I o-overslept.” He fumbled and burned darker across his cheeks. It sounded lame even to him.
“Overslept? Where? In a field or a tavern?” She chuckled and dished out some porridge to him and, looking over her shoulder first, threw some bacon on top. “You were back in your quarters well past nightfall. The whole of the upper ranks is aware, but it hasn’t been spread to your peers yet. I’m trying to get Master Brenner to go easy on your first offense, but he’s beside himself. I’ve never seen him act like this with the other boys.”
Chit sunk lower in his seat, but he still made sure to swipe the bacon off the top of his bowl and cram it into his mouth to quell his rumbling stomach. He rubbed his arms as his tail twitched around behind him on the floor. He looked up at Chinea with a heavy expression dragging down his features.
“I should speak to him l-later. Sh-shouldn’t I?” The thought of it made the hair on his neck stand up.
“Yes…” Chinea looked like she’d buckle if that serving bowl she held were any heavier. “He’s ordered me to tell you to see him after breakfast, but I’ll be at my usual post, so you can find me after.”
“R-Right…” He looked down at his food and brought a wavering spoonful to his lips. Chinea sighed and sat on the edge with a hip bump to scoot Chit down the bench to make room.
“So, want to tell me why you were really late last night? It may help me help your case.”
“I-I… I was helping someone. She needed a hand after we met at the tower outside town.” His body relaxed as she scooted closer.
“You were outside? That far?” Chinea held a hand to her chest. “If the Master hears-”
“He already knows.” Chit stuffed another bite into his mouth. “He’s the one who agreed to it, because of the elf that invited me, but that weird mage said Master wasn’t pleased about agreeing to it. That means I’m in double trouble now.”
“Mage? Was that who needed your help?” Chinea was watching his face about an inch away from it with a skeptical look. He swore a bead of sweat crossed her cheek.
“No. Judith did. She u-um… well she needed to bury a friend, but before that, I was just helping her get back home after she used up her strength and couldn’t walk.”
“Bury?” Chinea’s voice rose before noticing as she grew more concerned by the second. “Chit, you know that’s against the-”
“I couldn’t help it. She said he didn’t like f-fire. She wanted to let him rest peacefully, and I couldn’t say n-no to that, so we went out to the old tree. I-I made sure it was far off and obscure.” He pulled at a curl in his vision and set his spoon down with the bowl only half empty.
“I see then.” Chinea rubbed her forehead with one hand as the other tried to support her against the table. “Let’s hope that part stays secret. Don’t tell another soul, you hear me?”
“Y-Yes ma’am… of course.” Chit swallowed hard and pushed his bowl away. He felt sick to his stomach.
“So you were called out to that tower outside town along with some girl named Judith. Whatever for?”
“An um… I don’t know if I should say. The elf wants us both to w-work together on some request. A big request at that.” He slowly eased his posture while his tail wrapped about their ankles.
“The two of you, huh?” Chinea got the hint of a smile forming in her dimples. “Is this Judith cute?” The white speckles appeared on his still darkening cheeks.
“N-Not like that m-matters.” The spoon clattered against the wood as he flicked it from one side to the other.
“You didn’t say no~,” Chinea said in tune as she started to chuckle at him. “Chit. You’ve got one shot still. You’re turning twenty in two weeks, and I know you’re aware that after that you’re…You’ll be initiated and take oaths into the Dark.”
“Two weeks isn’t enough time to get to know anyone. I’ve got more training. I probably won’t see her again.” The hall had cleared out but for a few talking at the end of the Light table. Chit rose, and his muscles all screamed at him as they tensed again, but he looked stoic as could be under the thick, cumbersome robes of the church.
The echo of the Master’s staff as it hit the stones in the hall made the few remaining people quietly retreat through the ornate door to the Light side of the church. The Master emerged from the bowed doorway of the Dark, the brooch and gold stripes of his rank slithering with the fabric as it rolled. Staff in hand, leaning on it as a walking stick, he made a limping beeline toward Chit as Chinea stood in front of him. He still towered over her, shoulders and up, a clear target as his posture stooped the closer his Master came. The older man’s face seemed to bear more lines than before as he used the rod to urge Chinea to the side. The force knocked her breath out and she followed with a huff as she straightened her robes.
“My office. You’re even late for your inquiry. What nonsense has wormed its way into your head, boy?” He spat the words out across Chit’s neck as needles pricking up his neck again. Chit nodded as he tried to withdraw his trembling hands into his sleeves, yet Chinea eased her way back beside Chit with a hand concealed between his shoulders.
“Chit was just finishing eating. I’m afraid he hasn’t felt well, and I was offering him some aid with my latest remedy I mixed into his porridge. It must need some work. Too bitter to handle at the proper dosage. Please take it easy on-” The long, ebony staff connected with her waist on the side that wasn’t squeezed up to Chit and made her crash against him. Chit bent down and scooped her into his arms before she could fall. His tail lashed out without thought, and the table behind them was overturned, porridge and all. The wooden tableware clattered to the floor. His dark eyes watched his own bowl roll into Master Breener’s buckled shoe as porridge flecked over the shine.
“I’ve warned you to remember your duties, Chinea. I will not repeat myself again.”
“With all due respect, my Master.” She panted through clenched teeth as she held to Chit’s shoulder to pull herself back up. “Taking care of the sick is one of my duties.”
“From this moment onward, this one is under my sole supervision. Effective immediately.” Chinea balked and clenched her fists at her sides. Tears stung behind her eyes even as they twitched with indignant rage. Chit straightened his robe and hung his head as he walked forward toward the Master.
“Y-You should head back to the L-Light, M-Mistress.”
“Chit.” Chinea exhaled as her shoulders shook. She walked a few steps away, but then turned back at Master Warren with a cold calm. “I was still his caregiver. I raised him. I expect to be able to see him when I wish.”
“As soon as his punishment is decided and fully enacted upon.” The Master turned, and Chit’s tail dragged across the stones on the floor as it bumped along behind them. They walked off in silence, but for the clack of the staff on the floor that resounded to fill the empty space.
The sun was already low in the sky as Judith pushed past a few stumbling men and women exiting the church doors. Their countenances rang of a fine mood as the hour changed to evening. She had never been this close to the building before, and she wondered for a moment if this was the right entrance. She waved down the first person in robes she saw with a gleeful grin. They wore far different designs from Chit’s clothes, with such vibrant colors, it almost hurt her eyes against the glare of the sunset. The woman with autumn hair smiled and waved back at her calmly.
“Can I help you? I haven’t seen you around before. I’m Freena.” She extended a hand, and Judith shook it gladly, along with most of her thin arm as the young woman’s eyes opened wider.
“I’m here to see Chit. Is he around? We have something I want to talk about, and all I know is he lives here somewhere.” Judith chuckled to herself and peeked around the woman to the open doors behind her. The finery within sparkled and the colorful hangings reflected in prisms out the door as her jaw dropped. “He lives HERE?”
“Not quite.” Freena regained her composure until she realized her hand was now covered in dirt, as were the sleeves and hem of Judith’s dress.
“Oh. You know where he is then?” Judith started for the doors, only to be tugged back by her collar.
“Yes, but… right now isn’t a very good time.” The woman’s sweetened voice lost its sugar as her fingers curled about the hem of the fabric.
“Ah.” Judith nodded and stood in place as people passed her into the church carrying fruit, incense, wine, and all manner of offerings.
“You can come back tomorrow if you like.”
“Tomorrow is a while when the outcome of so much is riding on what he decides.” Judith pouted and crossed her arms as she racked her brain for an idea.
“Well, I um, don’t know about all of that. It’s the best I can tell you on the matter. If you wish to come inside a while and leave a prayer or offering, perhaps indulge to ease your worries, all of that I can help with.” Judith didn’t seem to hear her. Freena had a hand on the door handle, ready to close it in front of her before Judith finally snapped to and lifted her head.
“Can I speak to Chinea? She’s here, right?”
“Well, yes, but… You’re asking to speak with the Mistress out of the blue, and we don’t have any prior knowledge of you. Are you even a devout? A new worshipper? A recruit looking to join should be far younger, so I am afraid if you wish to petition that case you are far too late to-”
“You can trust me. Besides, it’ll be fun to meet her. She’s like his mom or something, right?” Judith ducked under Freena’s still outstretched arm and between her body and the heavy door, with a twist she was able to easily free herself from the grip at her neck. She rose on the other side as the woman in bright orange hurried to shut the doors and follow.
“You cannot just waltz around looking for her! Take a seat, please.” Freena had to jog to keep up with Judith flitting around the area and weaving through the heavily dyed drapes enraptured. A piece of mint-colored silk was tugged toward her face. Her whole form inhaled it with a loud gasp.
“It’s so nice in here! Is that perfume?” Judith exclaimed as she spun and wrapped the cloth about herself. The group she passed sat on large tufted pillows on the floor, and they all cringed at the dirty footsteps and cracked mud that dislodged from her and ended up all around them. A plop echoed in the silence as she spun back out of the fabric. A woman a few years older than Judith herself with just as shiny hair slammed her drink down with a piece of brown floating to the top. Outrage spread until the whole section began to stir, yet the ensuing commotion piqued Chinea’s interest. An older woman stood up from the altar with smoke trails wafting off of her from the incense. Judith’s eyes landed on the small, stocky woman, even if she had to look down to hit eye level. Chinea’s robes gleamed gold through a sheer orange fabric, like clouds covering the sun cast in the diminishing light from the many tall windows of the area. Chinea smiled softly and waved Judith over. Freena tossed up her arms and went to clean up the mess and offer the other patrons some more wine with overlapping apologies.
Judith followed the woman in flowing robes to a multitude of rather plush white chairs in the corner of the room, behind an array of the drapes they had to work together to push aside. The woman let her weight sink into one such chair, but it didn’t seem to relax her at all. Her eyes focused somewhere else as she looked past her guest. Judith took her seat across from her, assuming she had to be the boss. Her hands went to straighten her unruly hair, but only scattered dirt among the tangles.
“How may I help you? I heard Freena call out that you were looking for me in particular?” Her voice was a soothing broth that warmed her stomach.
“Yes. You’re Chit’s mom, right?” Judith set her hands back at her sides to feel the softness of where she sat. Chinea’s gaze flew back to focus on Judith in the space of a blink.
“Not quite.” Brown eyes looked the girl over in one quick nod before her smile widened. “I take it your name is Judith then?”
“How did you know?” Her dominant hand reached for her staff leaned against her seat and gripped tight.
“No one would come here talking about Chit, except maybe the girl he just mentioned to me at breakfast this morning.” Chinea leaned on one hand and gave her another once over. Judith looked down following her gaze and shrugged, which caused Chinea to giggle. “He said he helped you with something quite private. Do not fret. I wouldn’t tell a soul.”
“I finished up and did pretty much all the work in the end, but he did help me get home. I wanted to see how he’s doing and ask if he’s decided on what Maleth said to us.” Chinea stared at her as her skin erupted in goosebumps.
“Maleth… asked you. You’re sure of that name? I believed someone else may have taken up residence. The Light hasn’t corresponded with them since-” Her fingers twirled around the yellow ribbons that hung off her waist cincher until her skin turned colors. There was a moment of perfect clarity in her expression, but also fear that made her back rigid. Judith nodded as she gazed all around the room at the glimmering goblets and trinkets. Her hand reached toward a bauble made of the thinnest colored glass she’d ever seen, but she drew it back to her lap and stayed it under her other hand.
“So, where is Chit? I think the lady at the door said he was busy. I can wait if I need to.” Judith poked a hummingbird wind chime and jumped a little when it started to tinkle. The sound carried on as she quickly put her hands in her lap again to face forward. Chinea shook her head at the girl and went to go fumble in a trunk behind her. Her middle was bent over the wood as she reached deep inside and came back carrying another dress of gold and orange that dangled with multiple layers of varying cloth, the likes of which she had only seen on the wealthier merchants in town. Her hands reached out eagerly to feel the fabric between her fingers. It was so thin it was sheer, but the layers overlapped and made it colorful and light, but still modest enough to wear in town, maybe.
“You should change clothes. We’ll wash yours and get them back to you as soon as we’re able, so for the time, let us care for you in a way befitting a newcomer.”
“Oh. I guess changing would be a good idea.” Judith stared greedily at the dress. Her hands let go of the fabric, only long enough to reach for the back of her dress and hike it up overhead. Chinea guffawed and had to still her laughter with both hands. She had to stretch to help the young girl maneuver the new layers around her body and tie the corsetry in the back. Judith gasped as Chinea pulled the strings so taut she felt her chest try and heave out the top. She tried to stuff herself back down, not being used to her bust sticking out so much.
“You’re a miniature string bean, but you are pretty cute.” The rotund hands left the dress once it was finished and started to shake a few sticks out of Judith’s hair. A comb was pulled off her tidy desk and raked through the tangles with utmost care as sticks clattered to the floor. Judith was boiling over rocking back and forth on her heels as her head was pulled back with a tug. The words bubbled outward.
“Thanks! It’s been ages since I heard that. My dad used to gush all the time over me and my Sis being cute.”
“I called you cute before…” Jacob murmured, and she directed her gaze over to his glow at the edge of Chinea’s desk and smiled at him in reassurance. Her father chucked him on the shoulder before wrapping the same arm around his shoulders. Jacob smiled some at that, and Judith’s smile widened with an added burst of giggles.
Chinea gave her a look from one side, but then shook her head. Her fingers separated her hair like second nature as she reached to a shelf beside Judith’s head for some ribbon. She held the tips of the black silk in her mouth and let them hang as she formed two buns with braids trailing from them. The black silk was interlaced in the braids and made the shine in Judith’s hair stand out all the more in contrast. There was plenty of hair still left down in loose waves that Chinea struggled to get the brush through.
Once the Mistress of the church was satisfied, she took a seat across from Judith. The lines in her face deepened as her gaze still focused on someplace beyond all the silk and shimmering furniture. Judith played with the new braids between her fingers with a grin. The texture was wholly changed, and the ribbon gleamed in even the lowest light.
“So, can I see Chit soon?” Chinea looked down at her hands, and then to the last smolders and puffs of smoke from multiple sticks of incense that expired on the desk. She heaved a heavy sigh and extended one of her hands to Judith, careful of the pile of ashes on the golden stand emblazoned with a symbol of black and gold waves crashing into one another.
“I can’t help you there. I wish I could, more than anything. If you would like to stay here through the night with us, by the afternoon I would hope we can both see him.” Judith stared at the outstretched hand and gave a quick nod.
“If you think that’s best. Who wouldn’t be happy to spend a night here?” She smiled, but she could feel Jacob and her family move in closer to her with concern. “It will be fine, everyone. Chinea seems nice. They all do.”
The older woman stared at Judith with intent as she went about closing down the church for the night and setting up a spot for Judith to sleep in secret next to her own chamber. The hanging curtains separated everything in the spacious room and were repositioned easily to give her a little nest of her own covered in plush pillows and blankets strewn across the ground. Chinea pulled a powder blue curtain aside as Judith was trying to get comfortable. Another pillow was tossed in her direction, that Judith caught and held to her chest.
“This is the first time I’ve slept somewhere this fancy.” Judith yawned, somewhat drained from the solo burial earlier. It was only then that she fully appreciated the pleasant aroma that surrounded her, resulting from the different incenses mixed in citrus and floral scents that saturated the air. The thought crossed that if she took deep enough breaths she may just fill her belly.
“Maybe you can stay again sometime. For now, rest. I have a few more things to attend to before my respite.”
Judith shut her eyes and pulled a violet, velvet cover to her chin. After a minute, she could hear the curtain rustle again as Chinea walked away. A few minutes more passed and one blue eye opened up to look around. All the bustle from earlier had faded, and the energy had turned subdued and silent to an eerie degree. Judith sat up and looked at the low glows of her spirits around her with a whisper that barely crossed her lips.
“Spread out. See if you can find anything going on nearby. I’ll move to give you all more space if I need to, so let me know. I’ll act like I need some water or something if anyone sees.”
“That is a bad plan, Judith. Chinea is obviously upset about something, but she said even she couldn’t do anything about it. She’s the second-highest rank here!” Jacob huffed and settled near her shoulder. “We could wait like we were asked.”
“You know I’m not the patient type; besides I’m worried now. If she’s his mom, then why can’t she even go see him?” Judith pushed her lip out and Jacob groaned before his purple light was the first to leave her sight. Her family followed soon after, and she was left alone with nothing but the flickering candlelight from beyond her enclosure to help her watch for them, or any obstacles.
Meanwhile, Chit’s shoulder skidded across the stone floor of a room he had grown far too used to over the years. He placed his hand over the new wound and winced as he looked up at Master Brenner while he slammed and locked the door. The cold floor soothed his other bruises and bumps, so he lay back and let it be, but the Master continued to stare at him through a few short bars high atop the door.
“You will stay here overnight.” The harsh tone made Chit’s tail curl beside him. He shut his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the displeasure on top of the audible disdain this man had for him.
“W-What else?” Chit sighed and rubbed at some bleeding marks on his tail.
“You will be here every night henceforth, as well as every day. Unless I declare otherwise.”
That made the breath freeze in his lungs. Chit slowly raised his head to glimpse Master Brenner’s face. The way he watched Chit surveying his wounds was apathetic at best, but his tone and his shoulders held firm with his authority. Chit scrambled to his feet and placed his palms open on the door.
“You can’t m-mean that. I haven’t done a-anything warranting th-that! Where’s the c-council!?” His tail struck the floor as his mind began to race while his sentencing took hold in the clamminess of his skin.
“I will have scrolls delivered to you so you may complete your tasks.” The Master’s voice trailed off as he cracked his staff on the door, and Chit jumped back with a hiss and blistering burns on his hands. He knelt and cooled them on the stones, but his stunned gaze never left the Master until he walked out of frame.
Not long after the corridor fell silent, his first delivery arrived, from the very boy he trained with in the pit. Chit was none too pleased to see him and barely bothered with a greeting as he swung his tail about in a half-hearted wave. A clatter on the floor drew his attention as the scrolls were pushed through the bars above one by one. Chit gathered them in his tail and laid them in the farthest corner of his new accommodations. He barely had to even stretch since the room was so small. If he lay flat, he could nearly touch both walls with his fingers.
“There a-are no c-candles in here. The light from the t-torches in the hall w-won’t do unless he wants m-me blind too.” Chit thwacked the scrolls, and they bent under the force. His spine bent as well, curled up with his head on his knees. Another clack rang out, followed by a hollow thud, but Chit didn’t bother to raise his head again. The boy hit the iron bars with a clang so loud Chit jumped and had to look.
A dagger was pressed against the iron as the sound continued to reverberate in his head. A wide chin set atop the ledge around the bars with heavy lids over the boy’s eyes. There were candles, matches, and a sizeable chunk of bread lying below on Chit’s side of the door. A deep groan drowned out the fading noise as his muscular forearm shoved through the bars. The sleeve of his robes rumpled back and exposed a fresh branding in the exact middle between his palm and the bend of his elbow. The flesh was red and raised in bumps in places with the seal, a familiar circle filled with two contrasting colors for the Light and Dark aspects that melded and opposed each other in a strange dance. Chit pinched at the same symbol he wore around his neck in color, while the brand was only red. The other initiate laughed at Chit’s reaction.
“What’s so f-funny, Geraine?”
“You probably won’t even flinch when you get it. You’re so used to bleeding by now, you know?” He peeked down at the items on the floor. “Going to waste it? Lotta good that will do you.”
“Why the f-food? It’s not c-custom.”
“Not going to let another one of us starve. Ain’t right. Master’s got his reasons for things, but I got a conscience too. If you’re down here for who knows how long, then you got to eat. Candles can help you not go nuts after a couple of days. Trust me on that. The shadows in here start to get to you.”
Chit leveled a glare in his direction. The bread was scooped up in his tail and brought to his mouth. The two stared at each other as crumbs fell and dissolved on the stones in the damp chamber. Once Chit had finished, he looked up with a calmer disposition.
“Hey.” The brand disappeared from view as Geraine took back his arm. “Your ol’ babysitter may have had the right idea.” He mumbled before his steps faded away down the hall, leaving Chit to curl up in the corner with his thoughts.
#writeblr#booklr#indie author#arigale#writers on tumblr#book#fantasy#epic fantasy#writing#books#fantasy books
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One of Those Days
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Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff! Reader
Warnings: Language.
Request: hi!!! I’d love to see one where it’s Draco x a female Hufflepuff reader who had a rough day of classes and just wants comfort so lots of tooth rotting fluff pls thank u🥺love your writing! @thatsassyhufflepuff
Word Count: 2,871
“Today was terrible.”
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Academics at Hogwarts aren’t exactly meant to be a walk in the park. It takes lots of repeated practice and skill to master the materials taught to young students. Every wizard and witch is unique in that they each have a subject that speaks to them and is easiest to them. For someone like Neville Longbottom, the ins and outs of Herbology always seemed to suit him best. The famous Harry Potter always had a knack for Defense Against the Dark Arts. For Hermione Granger....well, everything seemed to come easy to her.
But even someone as academically gifted as Hermione had days where classes were just impossible to bear.
Your day had already gotten off on the wrong foot when you woke up almost fifteen minutes late for your first class because your alarm clock didn’t go off for some mysterious reason. You always set your alarm for the same exact time every single day (even on weekends) and of course it decided not to go off on a day where you had Advanced Potions first period.
You had stayed the night with Draco in his single prefect room, so it was even worse that you still had to make a mad dash to the Hufflepuff tower to get ready for the day. Draco had been abruptly stirred from his peaceful sleep when you leapt out of bed to grab your stuff, and he whined out when he suddenly didn’t have his favorite girl to snuggle with.
Despite his pleas and begs, you declined him cuddles and rushed out of his room before you totally missed Potions all together.
At least if it had been Herbology or Transfiguration, you could’ve convinced Professor Sprout or McGonagall to let it slide considering you were almost never late or missed a class.
Trying to plead your innocence to Professor Snape was a whole different matter.
“Ah, Miss [L/N],” Snape’s voice bellowed out when you came rushing into the Potions classroom, barely even dressed; “I’m very pleased that you found time to allow Potions into your schedule.”
Usually the other students in the class might snicker at someone else being called out by the Potions master, but based on how no one dared to even glance at you, you got the notion that you weren’t the only one having a rough morning. You snagged your usual seat, setting your bag down and unpacking your materials as quickly as possible to make up for lost time.
“I’m sorry, Professor. I just overslept.” You muttered, sitting awkwardly at your desk.
Snape let out a hum of disapproval, looking your disheveled frame over. He turned his attention back to the class as a whole.
“As I was saying: since none of you successfully completed the homework reading, I see no choice but to assign a quiz.” He announced.
Your head shot up from its lowered position, your jaw falling open slightly.
Your class of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws erupted into scattered groans and complaints, knowing good and well that they were about to botch this quiz. Snape was a man of his word, producing a ridiculously hard quiz and putting it forth in front of everyone. The quiz was insanely difficult and the questions were so specific that you weren’t even sure if you would have been able to do well even if you HAD read the reading.
You answered the best you could and at least made an attempt to give some kind of answer for each question. That couldn’t be said for everyone in class, however. You were pretty sure you spotted Padma Patil turning in a blank quiz. The rest of the class period was dull and hazy, everyone depressed knowing that they had just tanked a critical grade.
While you were the last one into the classroom, you made it a point to be the first one out. While Potions had put a damper on the start to your day, you were hopeful that the rest of the day would be smooth sailing.
You couldn’t have been any more wrong.
You had Charms with Flitwick next, and even though you were right on time, you just couldn’t seem to do well. You couldn’t produce a single spell correctly, and if you did produce a spell, it was completely the wrong one. By the end of class, you had accidentally casted a Colovaria charm on Cedric Diggory, turning him a deep shade of purple. While the purple adorned his black and yellow robes nicely, purple was definitely not his color.
Professor Flitwick was able to return Cedric back to his normal skin shade, but you were far humiliated at that point. Cedric, being the gentleman that he was, brushed it off as if you hadn’t just almost permanently stained his complexion. Cedric (aside from Draco) was your best friend, and so he wouldn’t mind being the color of a grape at the hands of you.
“Bad day for you too, huh?” Cedric asked as you exited Charms, checking the back of his hand once more to make sure he didn’t change colors again.
“Yeah. I just can’t seem to get it together today.” You admitted, rubbing your temples in hopes of relieving your oncoming headache.
Cedric nodded as he walked with you to your next class.
“You’re not the only one. I heard that Luna accidentally changed Lavender into a caterpillar in Transfiguration. Not a pretty sight apparently.” Cedric told you.
You shuddered at the thought. You could only imagine what choice words Lavender had to say when she was back in human form. While you were relieved that you weren’t the only one having a whirlwind of a day, it didn’t make things any easier.
In Herbology, you dropped and shattered one of Professor Sprout’s favorite plant pots, and while she assured you it was fine, you were sure that you saw her almost shed a tear over the lost pottery. You apologized profusely, but nothing really seemed to make her feel better.
DADA was your final class of the day, and it wasn’t exactly a winner either. While nothing exactly went wrong, you did receive your latest essay grade and it was less than a passing grade. You weren’t the only one who failed it, because you noticed several papers marked with a huge red “F” at the top. Your spirit had been broken for the day along with many others, and you were thanking whoever was listening that you had the weekend to recover.
Dinner was unusually quiet at all the House tables. Everyone seemingly kept their heads down and voices low as everyone ate a decent meal. You sat at the very end of the table with your head in your hand as you picked around at what was on your plate. You didn’t have much of an appetite after the day you had. Your mood was rather sour and damper, and you wanted nothing more than to go back to your dorm and crawl into bed to sleep off this horrible school day.
But it was a Friday, and you almost always stayed with Draco in his room on weekends. If nothing else, you could hopefully get a little loving from your Slytherin boyfriend.
You dragged yourself to his room, silently praying that nothing else went wrong between your commute from The Great Hall to his dorm. You felt like you had a dark cloud hovering and following you around, which was not normal behavior at all. Draco wasn’t back yet, but you let yourself in and made yourself at home, knowing he’d be back soon. You snorted at how he didn’t even bother to make his bed before leaving, his sheets all akimbo and thrown around the bed.
You slid your Hufflepuff robes off of your shoulders as well as changed out of the rest of your clothes until you were down to your panties and the tank top you had on underneath. Draco’s bed was calling your name, and honest you were sure you could’ve been asleep before he even had the chance to get back.
You slid under his covers, bringing your knees to your chest as you cocooned yourself with his array of sheets and blankets. His room was perfectly quiet, which was all you wanted in that moment. The day’s events kept playing over and over in your head as you laid there, wishing you didn’t feel so crummy.
Draco entered his room, cursing the door for making such a horrid squeak when he opened it.
“Darling, I had the best day today. You’re never going to- [Y/N]?” Draco called, realizing you weren’t in sight.
He immediately chuckled when he noticed the trail of clothing leading to his bed. If he hadn’t been paying attention, he easily could’ve missed the way the ball of bed sheets were moving each time you took a breath and exhaled. You grumbled to yourself at his jubilant entrance. Of course Draco had a great day when everyone else had a bad one.
He slipped his shoes off and closed the door behind him, approaching the bed carefully. You were completely under the covers, shielding yourself from the unpredictable outside world.
“[Y/N], are you alive in there?” The blonde-headed boy joked, peeling back the covers so he could see you.
His amusement faded when he saw the pure look of discouragement and the tinge of sadness in your eyes. His heart sank at the sound of your meek voice.
“Hi.” You whimpered.
Your energy was totally off, and Draco could sense it. Normally you would attack him with kisses when he entered, ready to ask him all about his day. Now he could see the slight watery glaze in your eyes, and it was breaking his heart.
“Hey, beautiful...what’s the matter?” He asked, his brows narrowing in confusion.
Your voice quivered as you spoke, but you refused to let the tears spill. One bad day shouldn’t have been enough to break you. After all, the day was basically over already and you had tomorrow to start fresh.
“Today was terrible.” You stated simply, not even knowing how else to describe it.
“You had a bad day too? Everyone seems to have gotten their ass kicked today,” Draco replied, walking around the front of the bed to his small closet; “What happened with you, love?”
Your eyes didn’t even follow him as he changed out of his school clothes and into something more comfortable. He could tell that you had really taken a hit today.
“Well, you know I was late this morning. I still have no idea how my alarm didn’t go off,” You explained; “Snape dropped a pop quiz on my class, I almost made Cedric look like a troll for the rest of his life, I broke Professor Sprout’s favorite pot, I failed my Defense essay....” You rattled off, continuing to explain in detail how horrible your day had been.
Draco listened to every word, understanding how all of that could definitely put a strain on yourself. Truth be told, Draco had secretly turned your alarm off the night before, hoping you’d sleep through first period and be with him longer. He didn’t dare tell you though, because he felt horrible that it put such a bad start on your day.
He slid into his bed, but didn’t try to pull you towards him. You needed a little space for the time being. You did, however, turn your head so you could see him. He could see the tiredness and displeasure in your expression, and he just wanted to make it better.
“My sweet girl is never supposed to have a day like that.” He said with a charming grin.
Your down and out demeanor caused you to be much more aggravated than usual, and you took his comment completely the wrong way. You snapped at him with a tone full of annoyance.
“Oh, what? Just because I’m a fucking Hufflepuff I can’t have a bad day?” You said snarkily, turning your head back around.
His smile faded and worry filled his voice. He hadn’t meant to offend you, and he surely didn’t want to make you more upset.
“I didn’t mean it like that, love. I just meant that you never deserve such a rough day,” He corrected himself; “But everyone has them.”
You sighed heavily and nodded. You didn’t mean to bark at him like that. You were just in a bad mood.
“I know. I’m sorry.” You apologized sincerely.
He rested his hand on your back, staring at the back of your head. He shook it off like it was no big deal. It seemed that everyone was being too forgiving towards you today.
“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it.” He smiled, even though you couldn’t see it.
His fingertips danced along your back, feeling at the tense muscles there. You had grown silent now, and he was honestly not sure what to say. His comforting skills had greatly improved over the years you had been together, but he still came up short sometimes. All he knew to do was to shower you with love and make sure that you knew that he was there for you.
He carefully left kisses on the back of your neck, moving his hand to run across the exposed skin of your arm. He always kept it cold in his room, and he could feel the chill on your body. He leaned over and spoke lowly in your ear, mentally noting that if anyone saw him like this right now that they’d think they were dreaming.
“I think someone needs cuddles from her boyfriend.” He suggested, knowing that was an offer that you’d never refuse.
Your heart did a little jolt in response. You turned over, letting Draco pull you flush into his warm body. Your head nuzzled into his neck and his arms draped around you.
“There’s my pretty girl.” He said, kissing your temple.
Your cheeks grew hot at his kind words, but you suddenly remembered what he had been talking about when he first entered.
“Tell me about your day.” You requested, running your finger along his collarbone.
He shrugged. He had been stoked to tell you about how great his day was, but he didn’t want to make you feel worse by telling you all the good things that happened to him.
“Ah, it wasn’t much of anything. Just some Quidditch and grades stuff.” He said casually.
You shook your head.
“No, come on, D. You were excited to tell me. I want to hear it.” You said honestly.
Maybe hearing about someone else’s good fortune would help. Honestly, Draco could tell addresses he had memorized and you’d be entertained. Draco opened his legs a little so you could place one of yours between them. He smirked at how you couldn’t possibly get any closer.
“I had Quidditch practice this morning after you left. It went really well and I think that we’re going to beat the brakes off of Gryffindor next weekend.” He praised.
You scoffed at that. Of course that was considered important in Draco’s mind. He went on as you began to leave kisses along his jawline.
“Then I had Transfiguration and McGongall said I had a great technique. That woman hates me and she gave me a compliment! I don’t know who spiked her morning pumpkin juice.” Draco chortled.
You knew all too well that McGonagall had it out for Draco. As a matter of fact, most professors weren’t too fond of Draco...minus Snape. Draco was cold most of the time. He didn’t allow himself to be vulnerable in front of anyone. He didn’t share his secrets with anyone other than you and he very rarely ever let out the emotions he kept bottled up. On the outside, he was a sneaky and mean guy with no sympathy for others.
But you didn’t see him that way.
He had been nothing but wonderful to you in your time together. He held a real soft spot in his heart for you, and you were the only one that got to see the way he really was. A strong, loving guy with nothing but hope for humanity deep within himself. You knew him backwards and forwards, and the Draco Malfoy that he worked so hard to maintain wasn’t really him. One day he’d bare his realness to the world.
But for now, you were fine with having him to yourself.
“That’s great, love. I’m glad you had a good day.” You responded, with a soft grin.
You still weren’t feeling like yourself, and Draco’s only hope was that he could hold you until you felt better. Your kisses had moved to his neck, sucking lightly on the spot that you knew he liked. He hummed out happily.
“If we get to stay like this for the rest of the night, then today will be the best day yet.” He proclaimed.
“How about we stay here all weekend?” You whispered into his ear.
He moved his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss, beginning to melt away all the stress from your no good day.
“Even better.”
#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy blurb#draco malfoy oneshot#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco malfoy x female reader#draco malfoy fluff#seriouslysnape
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How the Karasuno Boys react to fem! S/O being hit on by someone from another Team
Daichi Sawamura
-Oh it’s fine, he’s happy to know that other people recognize your beauty
-hold the fuCK up why is Kuroo touching you?
-only he can touch you, why aren’t you pushing him away?
-would literally death glare Kuroo,who was complimenting your body all the way from across the gym until he feel chills running down his back
-wraps arms around you from behind, smiling way too nicely at Kuroo, staking his claim as you giggle at your boyfriend’s jealousy
-”I know she looks goregous, but she hears it enough from me already. Oh, and she’s mine. Did I fail to mention that?”
-tucks face into side of neck whenever he finally leaves, grumbling as you poke fun at the fact he got jealous
-”I just want to hide you away, dammit.”
Sugawara Koshi
-He claims he’s not the type to get jealous
-Until he sees you basically pushed up the wall by a forward Bokuto, who had his hand resting on the space next to your head, basically prohibiting you from going anywhere
-Bites his lip, but you seem okay, right? You’d tell him you have a boyfriend, right?
-Unfortunately for you, Bokuto just laughs, claiming that you were just saying that to play hard to get
-Leans even closer before you get pulled away into Suga’s chest, feeling him at his peak anger level as he glowers at Bokuto, who smirks, shoving his hands in his pockets
-”Eh, I knew you two were together. I just wanted to ensure you were manly enough to protect her when the time comes.”
- Waves happily before leaving, wishing you two the best.
-Say whAT
-Suga cups your face in his hands lovingly before wrapping one around your waist.
-You can’t help youself. “So...you say you don’t get jealous.”
-To your surprise, he breathes out a sigh of relief before clicking his tongue, bringing his face closer to yours, his voice quieting to one that gives you chills
-”Don’t stray too far away from me...okay?”
Asahi Azumane
-Sees that you were wearing a cami that accentuated your breasts that he loved,but realizes everyone would get to see you in it
-Hardly surprised when boys left and right come up to talk to you, leaving you to hide behind the clipboard you were holdingI
-Says nothing and tries to focus on practice
-Until one of them rests their hand on your bare shoulder
-Oh it’s fucking on
-Looms over the group of boys crowding you with a dark aura (which is natural for him, but he doesn’t know that)
-Slips his own jacket over you so that you aren’t visible, lifting his naturally deadly eyes to the boys, smiling his usually friendly smile
-”Hm? Did you guys need something?”
-They all back away slowly before breaking into a run
-You can’t help pecking the cheek of your usual soft boi as the rest of the Karasuno team gapes at what Asahi had just done
-Tilts your face upwards towards him as he lovingly strokes your cheek
-”I know I can’t give you much, but I know for a fact I can give you protection.”
Nishinoya Yū
-Gets to practice late because he overslept, only to see you laughing your ass off with some guy from Fukurodani, who was a little too close for comfort
-Immediately begins to roll his sleeves up because someone’s about to get bEAt
-Decides against it, you can handle your own. You were just that strong-
-Did this fucker just adjust your bra strap for you?
-You automatically become uncomfortable, prompting your sporadic boyfriend into action
-Throws the fucking volleyball at that bastard’s head, who turns to glare at him pointedly as Nishinoya promptly marches up to the two of you. He cups your chin and makes out with you heatedly, turning your mind to mush as he grabs your waist, pulling you even closer
-He’s long gone when Nishinoya finally pulls away, smirking at your blushing face as everyone in the gym’s jaw slacks with shock
-He laughs loudly when you bury your face in his shirt out of sheer embarrassment, kissing the top of your head before smirking widely down at you
-”Come on, he touched your bra. We should go take it off.”
-”We?!”
-”Did I stutter?”
Tanaka Ryunosuke
-”Uh...Tanaka, is this really okay?”
-Deflates volleyball in his hands at the amount of pressure he was squeezing it, smiling scarily at a sweatdropping Suga
-”Hm? Why wouldn’t I be okay? I’m fucking dandy.”
-The scary aura he was giving off didn’t reach you on the other side of the gym as you scoot another inch away from Takahiro, who didn’t seem to know how to back off
-”Come on, you’re boyfriend doesn’t let you have friends?” Wraps his arm around you as you blanch, suddenly seeing you’re boyfriend walking over
-Sits down in the fucking middle of you two, making you hold back your laughter at how scared Takahio suddenly becomes as Tanaka slings an arm around your shoulder
-”SO. What are we talking about, hm?”
-The silence that follows is enough to get him to stand to walk away, but Tanaka isn’t done yet.
“Hey, (y/n), remember that night we-”
-Your mouth hangs agape at the absolutely vulgar words that followed, the heat rushing to your cheeks immediately as Takahiro darts away, his ears pinkened and eyes full of fear as Tanaka cackles in laughter
-You punch his arm when you realize what had just happened, Tanaka guarding himself with a playful smile on his face before he leans forward and grabs your wrist, stopping your punches as he leans in closer to you, your noses brushing
-”You gotta do what you gotta do sometimes, and I’ll be damned if anyone tries to take you away from me.”
Tsukishima Kei
-Would shrug at the group of players from Nekoma trailing behind you like lost puppies
-”Shouldn’t you help (y/n)-san? Aren’t you two dating?” A worried Yamaguchi asks your boyfriend who seemed like he couldn’t care less
-”What she does is none of my business.”
-You happen to hear that little comment, making you feed into the attention that the Nekoma boys were giving you, seeing how far you could test him
-Let’s be honest though, aside from Kuroo, most of the players from Nekoma were harmless
-”Wow Lev, you’re really tall.” You compliment the gray-haired boy, smiling brightly at him.
-Yamaguchi watches as Tsukishima suddenly pauses what he’s doing, sweatdropping at how still he became
-”E-eh? You think?” Lev blushes as you flirt harmlessly,you picking up his hand and examining his fingers.
-”You’re fingers are massive!”
-Yamaguchi begins to panic when Tsukishima’s glasses flash over
-”You see, I think tall guys are the best.”
-That does it
-Your chin is suddenly jutted towards the side as the Nekoma boys watch with wide eyes as Tsukishima presses his lips to yours harshly, entangling a large hand in your hair before pulling back only to look at the group of boys like they were a nuiscance
-”Nothing to see here. Move along now.”
-You smile cutely up at your boyfriend, who scoffs before thumping your forehead with his thumb
-”You think this is some kind of game, huh? I’d like to see you try to win it.”
-Yamaguchi hides his gushing nosebleed.
Yamaguchi Tadashi
-”You’re seriously dating that freckled kid? I can put five bucks up right now that I can give you a much better time than he can.”
-You glare at the boy who was attempting to flirt with you by bashing your boyfriend as Yamaguchi frowns down at the volleyball he was holding as the Karasuno team pat him on his back
-”(y/n)’s strong, and she loves you! Don’t worry about it!” Hinata tries to alleviate the tension obvious in Yamaguchi’s face to no avail as he focuses in on the words you were hearing
-”I mean look at him, his girl might just be taken from him right here right now, and you want to stay with a weakling like that?”
-Before you can return a sharp retort, another voice enters the scene, warming your heart at what was playing out
-”L-look, I know I might not be the strongest, but...” You watch with a small smile as Yamaguchi clenches his fists, trying to keep his composure. “But if someone tries to take (y/n) away, I won’t just sit back and watch!”
-You stand, initating a kiss with your boyfriend, smiling into the kiss as the douche from earlier stomps away, only to be met with Tanaka and Nishinoya, who promptly crack their knuckles (that’s what you get when you talk shit)
-”I know there are better guys.” Yamaguchi says softly, looking at you lovingly and shyly, cutting you off before you can disagree. “But if you’ll have me, then...please let me continue to cherish you.”
Hinata Shōyō
-Dense boy doesn’t even realize you’re being hit on until Kageyama whispers it to him, making him gulp at the unfamiliar feeling bubbling in his chest as he sees Kenji Futauichi asking for your number
-It’s okay, because you’re his right? You said you were his...so he shouldn’t worry!
-right?
-Feels automatic bubbling anger at the fact that he kept pressing on, despite the fact that you said no
-Mumbles something to Kageyama, who blinks in surprise, but nods anyway
- Throws the fucking ball at you
-Kenji dodges quickly in fear of the velocity it was coming to you, leaving you in line of fire before you shut your eyes, waiting for the impact
-but it never came
-you smile widely at the orange haired boy who had exhbited his phenomenal athletic ability, running at the speed of light and catching the ball before it can hit you
-"Do you understand now?” Hinata meets the eyes of Kenji with the scary, hawk-like look that paints his irises. “I can protect her, and you can’t.”
-With that, he pulls you away and you giggle at the jealous expression on his face before you realize what had just happened
-”You got Kageyama to throw a fast ball at me to prove your point?”
-Kisses your nose, grinning at you with his childish smile. “It worked, didn’t it?”
-”He understood that you’re mine, and mine to protect,”
Kageyama Tobio
-Come on, he of all people knew you were absolutely goregous, but out of all guys:
-Why Oikawa?
-Glowers at the friendly atmosphere the flirty guy was creating, beating himself up for forgetting to tell you to avoid him
-Anger level reaches 100% when you spill water on yourself, the water making your bra underneath slightly visible, prompting the raven-haired boy to be in front of you within the next second
-Whips jacket off himself to wrap around you, turning to glare at the staring Oikawa
-”I’d appreciate it if you tore your eyes away from my girlfriend.”
-Oikawa smirks, raising his hands in surrender before releasing a breathy laugh.
-”I never expected Tobio-chan to get such a cute girlfriend! A girlfriend who certainly has good...taste in clothing.”
-Doesn’t even hesitate to take Oikawa by the collar, meeting his playful gaze with an even stare
-”Yeah, but I get to see it up close and personal while you get jackshit.”
-You’veneverseenthissideofTobiowhatwasgoingON
-”Hm. See you around cutie-chan!” Oikawa flirts around the seething Kageyama, who pulls you close to him when he finally prances off
-”Up close and personal, hm?” You tease, watching his cheeks flush as he slowly reverts back to his awkward self.
-”Shut up. It’s the truth.” He zips his jacket up for you, hiding the water stain that revealed your bra. “You’re mine to look at, and mine alone.”
=
#haikyuu!!#karasuno#haikyuu tobio#hinata shoyuo#asahi x reader#haikyuu tsukishima#haikyuu sugawara#haikyuu daichi#haikyuu nishinoya#haikyuu yamaguchi#haikyuu tanaka
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for reasons wretched & divine
summary: unfit: unfit for duty, unfit for a proper teaching position, unfit for you.
word count: ~14k
warnings: ~inappropriate~ student/teacher relations, age gap (27 & 19), war related topics, mental illness related topics, some suggestive moments (not 18+ but be mindful), angst, innuendo, language
a/n: what can i say? i’m a hoe for period pieces. i have been laboring over this for an embarrassingly long time so i’m pleased to finally share it with you all! would love to hear your thoughts. also: big big thank you to @joemazzmatazz for being an extra set of eyeballs on this one and listening to me ramble about my insecurities every other day! love you long time, sis. xoxo.
(photo: @consumedbygwirst)
snowshill, gloucestershire, england. 1917.
a deaf ear, that’s why they wouldn’t take him; a deaf ear. he’d tried—god, he’d tried—to convince someone on the medical board that he was fit for duty. he’d come dangerously close to offering a bribe; something, anything, to be able to go and fight alongside his kinsman. but in the end, they’d still slapped his file with a rejection stamp.
gwilym james lee: unfit for duty by reason of physical impairment necessary for proper military response.
the words are engraved on his very heart now. he can’t shake them.
unfit, unfit, unfit.
his hands shake as he gathers the papers littered across his desk. the tremor has plagued him since he left his review with the medical board. why he can’t say for certain, and he doesn’t like to probe the issue too deep, but it’s always there, fluctuating in intensity. a slight waver in his fingers one moment and a full-scale trembling the next. it makes him feel like an old man, his deaf ear, his shaking hands. he’s twenty-seven years old, in the prime of his life, not eighty.
it’s sunday, and the mid-afternoon sun warms him through the window. he’s been in snowshill for a fortnight now yet his students—all twelve of them—remain a mystery. it’s clear they miss their former schoolteacher, but, like most, jefferson lewis has gone to serve his country. the vicar, bless him, had proven to be of more harm than good during his brief tenure as schoolmaster for the last four months, hence, gwilym’s new post: a stone, one-room schoolhouse on the edge of a vast field; a community away from civilized society, away from his father, away from any place he could soil the family name with his failures.
materials gathered, he slips out the front door. he considers locking the place up, but if anyone does break in, there isn’t much to steal. he’d come by this afternoon on a whim. lodging with an elderly woman and her six cats is one of the many things about snowshill that grates on his nerves, and the quiet air of the schoolhouse is a welcome respite from constance’s inane titterings. it’s nearly time for afternoon tea, though, and she’ll be cross if he doesn’t show, so he heads down the dirt lane, hands in his pockets, head bent low.
his steps slow, but do not stop, when the sound of his name reaches his ears. it sounds muffled, far away, as most things do. still, it’s loud enough to give him pause. he throws a glance over his shoulder. two pupils—maryanne clouder and you—walk down the lane. you stroll arm in arm with maryanne, your hair tied back in a long braid. maryanne’s arm is raised in a motion meant to flag him down. begrudgingly, he stops.
“mr. lee!” maryanne is not coy in the way she grabs your wrist and drags you across the road. her cheeks are flushed when she reaches his side, her elbow still circled around yours. “we didn’t see in you sunday service this morning.”
he shifts on his feet, fingers curling around the strap of his satchel. “no, i didn’t attend.”
“any reason?” maryanne’s head tilts to the side, her lower lip caught between her teeth. he stifles a sigh. the girl is young, merely fifteen. she’s cute in a girlish sort of way; one might see her as a pesky sister. still, she tries to catch his attention each day, her eyelashes batting against her sun-chapped cheeks, her legs swinging back and forth at her desk.
“i... overslept,” he lies.
his eyes flick to your face, which struggles to remain unamused. you’re the eldest of his pupils, nineteen and itching to capture whatever semblance of freedom is left in the world. maryanne is your closest classmate in age, and he rarely sees you without her on your tail. to your credit, you never complain, never seem to mind. he admires that. there had once been a day he’d been like maryanne—so eager to please whoever would give him the time of day—but those days are long gone.
“well, mother asked after you,” maryanne continues. “she’d like to invite you over for supper sunday next—as a proper welcome to snowshill.”
he’s quick to turn her down, as he has two other families since his arrival. “that’s very kind, maryanne, but i’m not sure it would be appropriate.”
“nonsense, sir!” he hopes his eyebrows don’t rise too much in surprise when you jump to maryanne’s aid. “i’ll be there with my niece and my grandfather, and mrs. coulder makes the best roast you’ve had this side of london. you must come.”
from behind his circular, wire-rimmed glasses, he wonders if you can see the way his eyes widen. since arriving at the schoolhouse, he’s known you only as the eldest, wisest, and least rambunctious of his class. you’re quiet, but well-spoken; authoritative, but not domineering. the way you carry yourself—shoulders held straight, chin extended outward, eyes soft yet purposeful—he could easily mistake you for a woman. but you’re not. you’re a girl, his student, and just because you insist he attend sunday supper does not mean you look at him as anything other than your teacher. certainly, he doesn’t look at you as anything other than his student.
he clears his throat. it’s been a long day. he’s tired, on edge. he shouldn’t be thinking about these things.
forcing a tight smile, he gives a nod. “it seems i have no choice.” maryanne claps her hands together as he says, “tell your mother i’ll be there.”
“oh, goody! you won’t regret it, sir, i promise. i’ll be sure to tell hastings not to pester you too much.”
a groan nearly surfaces as he remembers the previous week’s antics of maryanne’s brother. he bites his tongue to keep from retracting his acceptance. “hastings doesn’t bother me, maryanne.”
her grin turns sly, and she pushes his arm in a playful gesture. “you don’t have to lie, mr. lee.” her tone is slow, drawling, and he has the integrity to blush. his ears feel hot, uncomfortable—and not at all pleasurable.
you tug on maryanne’s arm. “come on, mary.” stepping away, you jerk your head toward town, a measure of concern hidden beneath your smooth features. “we should leave mr. lee be. we’ve bothered him enough already.”
he doesn’t refute your statement. even if he jogs the rest of the way, he’ll still be late for afternoon tea, and he’ll still bear the brunt of constance’s wrath. in truth, you have bothered him enough already. so he lets you steer maryanne away without another word. at the last moment, he thinks he’s imagined it when you twist to look over your shoulder, your eyes running over him with a modicum of interest. he shakes the feeling off; it must have been his untoward imagination.
by the time he reaches contance’s cottage, a light drizzle has wet the shoulders of his suit jacket. his hair is damp, his glasses foggy. he ducks to avoid smacking his head against the doorframe as he enters. the cottage smells of tea and scones, both fresh, both warm.
from the kitchen, constance’s shrill voice meets his ears. no matter his hearing loss, her voice will never be one he can ignore. “is that you, gwilym?” she putters to the kitchen arch, wrapped tight in her pink robe, tea kettle in hand. when she sees him standing in the doorway, she frowns. “you’re late.”
“yes, yes, i’m sorry.” he sheds his jacket and places it on the wooden banister. rolling up his shirt sleeves, he makes his way to the kitchen. “i was accosted by some of my students.”
constance laughs, her fleshy cheeks taut with a smile. “oh, child, you make it sound like you loathe those students.”
he says nothing, simply brushes a few crumbs away from his place at the table. a fat cat jumps to take his seat before he can settle, and he sighs. constance chuckles at his misfortune, placing the tea kettle in the center of the table. she shoos the cat for him, and he sits.
“pour for us, won’t you?” she says, turning to gather the scones.
gwilym hesitates. his hand flexes on his thigh, but there’s no point in arguing with constance, so he lifts the kettle. heavy with hot water, the pot wavers in his hand. as he pours, his tremor grows stronger, the pot shaking so violently water makes it everywhere but the teacup.
“dammit,” he mutters. he puts the kettle down with more force than is strictly necessary; enough that he can feel constance’s eyes slide to his back as he rises to mop up the spilled water. it’s hot as it drenches the napkin, and he takes the moment of pain as punishment. he uses both hands to pour on the second go around. there’s still an unnatural rhythm to the stream of liquid as it descends to the teacups, but it hasn’t ruined the tablecloth, and he supposes that’s all that matters.
“there we are.” constance places a scone—blueberry iced with cream; she always makes his favorites—before him, and she does not mention the spilled water. “who were the rascals that accosted you this time?”
between bites of scone and sips of tea, he answers. “maryanne coulder and [y/n] [y/l/n].”
constance replaces her teacup on its saucer with a knowing nod. “ah, i know the coulder family. good bunch, except for that son of theirs.” her smile widens as his face blanches. “it seems you know him too.”
“he put tacks on my stool this thursday.”
“did you sit on them?”
he shakes his head. “no, but i might’ve.”
“and it would have given all the children a royal laugh.” she takes another sip, challenging him over the rim of her cup. “[y/n] i don’t know so well.”
“she’s in her last year. bright girl.” he doesn’t know why he feels to need to say such a thing. he’s barely given constance any information about his students thus far, but there’s something about the way she’s watching him that makes him speak and speak fast. “she could go on to university if she put her mind to it.”
“nineteen, i think, yes?”
he shrugs. “i think so.” constance hums and reaches over to pet an orange tabby cat. “they’ve wrangled me into sunday dinner next week. the coulders, i mean,” he adds.
“oh?”
“it was impossible to say no.”
“well, i believe it’s about time you show your face around town.” constance lifts a barely visible brow. “you really much try and engage your students more, gwilym. no one likes a sour puss.”
heat rushes up the back of his neck, and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. she’s right, of course. he hasn’t always been this way, but since the war broke out and his subsequent service denial, he’s been nothing but a gray cloud in every room. he can’t help it.
constance changes the subject as her eyes move to the window at the back of the cottage. “did you know michael livingston went and shot a fox at four o’clock this morning?” she tuts her tongue. “that man! he really is the bane of my existence. a horrid excuse for a neighbor.”
gwilym’s gaze drops to his teacup, and he filters out what he can of constance’s prattle. she’s right. he should work on connecting with his students more. his father is a master at that. he has every student at the university eating out of the palm of his hand by the end of the first term week. gwilym thought he might have the capacity to do the same, but it seems he had been wrong. his students are respectful enough, but aside from maryanne and her silly crush, they are largely unattached. though, it isn’t as if he wants their affection or even their approval...
he’s fine without it. really, he is.
still, it wouldn’t hurt to at least seem approachable. he’s in snowshill for the foreseeable future. he might as well face it and try to appear like he gives a damn.
at four o’clock sharp the following sunday, he stands outside the coulder household, his fist poised ready to knock on the dark green front door. only he can’t seem to bring himself make his arrival known.
if he knocks, he has to be sociable. if he doesn’t knock, he can retreat to his attic room and spend the rest of his sunday in peace.
if he knocks, he might begin to chip away at the three-foot-thick barrier he’s placed around himself. if he doesn’t knock, he remains hidden, but protected.
his fist trembles in front of the door.
“mr. lee, are you alright?”
he nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice. dropping his hand and readjusting his hold on the plate of muffins constance sent along with him, he turns away from the door. you stand halfway down the stone path leading to the home, one hand holding the chubby fingers of a toddler he doesn’t recognize. your other hand is pressed against the back of an old man, his shoulders bent with age, hands wobbling as he uses a cane.
gwilym swallows and looks away. “oh, hello. i just...” he can’t think of an excuse, so he, lamely, settles for the truth. “well, if i can be frank with you, miss [y/l/n], i was—am—feeling a bit apprehensive.”
you just smile and lift the toddler from the ground. with the girl on your hip, you come to stand by his side. he shifts when he catches a whiff of your shampoo. you glance up at him, your smile lifting, before knocking on the front door yourself.
“there’s nothing to be nervous about, sir,” you whisper in the lull between your knock and the door opening. “’s just maryanne.”
he isn’t certain, but he thinks you’re teasing him. the possibility makes his skin crawl in more ways than one. he hates that.
saved the duty of response, he pulls his mouth into a tight smile as the door opens. mrs. coulder, flanked by her daughter, stands in the threshold, brightly patterned apron snug around her waist.
“oh, mr. lee!” she stretches out her hand, and he shakes it, the plate of muffins tipping precariously in his opposite palm. “we’re so glad you decided to join us.”
“thank you for the invitation, mrs. coulder.” he waits until you’ve passed with your grandfather to cross the threshold.
“please, call me vivianne. can i take that for you?” she nods to the plate of muffins, eyes sparkling all the while.
“yes, thank you. from constance pruder,” he adds. “she told me to tell you hello.”
“how kind of her!” vivianne takes the muffins from his arms and gestures toward the back of the house with her chin. “my husband, john, is out back. why don’t you go and chat until supper’s ready. he is ever so eager to meet you.”
gwilym fights to hold back his cringe. fathers—he doesn’t do well with them. not his own, not anyone else’s. it’s just another item on his long list of dislikes and annoyances.
but he’s a guest, and he really does want to try. so he fixes his tie and follows vivianne’s directions to the back garden.
john is sat on a wrought-iron chair, his hands braced against the arms, round face pulled tight in a frown as he watches maryanne play with the toddler on the grass. he stands when gwilym ducks to step outside. he extends a hand, his grip painful.
“lee,” he barks in greeting before dropping back to his seat.
the old man—gwilym assumes he’s your grandfather—twists from his place in a similar chair. “forgive me if i don’t get up, son.” the way his fingers waver in the air makes gwilym’s stomach clench; his own hand shakes slightly as he touches the old man’s palm. “name’s richard.”
“sit down.” john points to a bench against the house. “i’ve got questions for you.”
gwilym hesitates, caught bent at the waist as he goes to sit. his hands are firm on his thighs, and unwittingly, his eyes flick to yours. he’s surprised to see you already watching him, your fingers twirling in the blades of grass around your legs. when the moment has stretched far too long, he sits and smooths his sweaty palms against his trousers.
“i hope easy questions, sir,” he says. his tone is light, but his teeth are gritted.
“easy enough if you tell the truth.” john withdraws a silver cigarette case from his breast pocket. jamming a butt between his teeth, he offers the case to gwilym, who declines with a shake of his head. john puffs on the cigarette for a moment before saying, “why aren’t you off fighting, lee? all the other lads from gloucestershire are doing their part. what makes you special enough to stay away from the battle?”
to say gwilym is shocked by john’s pointed question would be an understatement. the force of the query, spoken in harsh, biting tones, is enough to tilt him sideways in his chair. he’s sure his face is red, his chest tight from forgetting to release the breath he holds in his lungs. his hands curl against his trousers, his knuckles gone white with rage.
“well, sir,” he drawls, careful to keep his tone even. more than anything, he wants to stand, leave, and slam the door on his way out for good measure. his ears burn with embarrassment. “i would certainly be fighting if i could.”
it’s an honest answer, the truth if ever he’s spoken it. what he wouldn’t give to be away from snowshill, rushing the battle field with his brothers-at-arms. what he wouldn’t give to be worthy of a moment’s notice when he returned from war.
but he’s not worthy and he’s not fighting. he’s stuck in the back garden of his most precocious and love-sick student, the sun beating down on his brow with an undue heat, his muscles twitching with the restraint it takes to keep from decking snowshill’s most prominent lawyer.
john narrows his eyes across the cobblestone patio. “if you could? what’s wrong with you?”
gwilym says nothing. red—the color of blood, ambulance sirens, and fire—flashes before his eyes.
“in my day,” john continues. “we fought no matter our delicate sensibilities.” he huffs around his cigarette, his chest ballooning like a baboon. “i’d say that i—”
“mr. coulder!” your voice is sharp, though not unkind, when you break into coulder’s soliloquy. gwilym’s eyes snap from john’s throbbing forehead muscle to you. you stand beside your grandfather, your skirt tangled around your legs in your apparent haste to stand. there’s grass pressed against your knees, and a faint tinge of red on your cheeks. “i believe i heard mrs. coulder calling for your just now,” you say, sweetening the blow of your interruption with a smile.
john looks to the open door, a pucker forming between his brows. “oh,” he mumbles, rising to his feet. “i’d better go see what that’s about.” he ambles on bowed legs into the house, and gwilym is left to pick of the pieces of his fractured dignity.
he dares glance at you. your eyes lift from the ground slowly, your fingers curling along the hem of your cardigan. when you meet his gaze, you look away first, as if you’re scared—scared to look at him, scared to admit you had to rescue him like a drowning puppy. he swallows hard and stands, though he isn’t sure why. he just can’t stay sitting anymore.
vivianne pops her head around the frame of the back door. “come come, everyone. supper is ready! mr. lee, you sit beside john. he has so much he wishes to discuss with you.” she grins and waves him inside, and who is he to refuse her?
later that night, when his back is pressed against his firm mattress, moonlight washing through the attic room, gwilym feels the overwhelming urge to cry. he can’t remember the last time he shed a tear. after his mother’s passing—god rest her soul—tears have seemed... pointless. they didn’t bring his mother back; they won’t cure his deaf ear or his tremor, won’t stop people like john coulder from asking questions.
still, his chest aches. there’s something in his lungs scratching to get out. it rises in his throat like a lump and bubbles forth in a broken sob. he presses his hand to his mouth, feels a hot tear slide down his cheekbone.
god, he hates it here.
really, he hates it everywhere. there’s nowhere he can go to escape from himself.
class on monday is disjointed.
he didn’t sleep well, tossing and turning the whole night long, his dreams plagued with images of his mother, the war, you staring at him like a broken man. he woke several times in a cold sweat, his bedclothes drenched and sticky.
his students bear the brunt of his poor night’s rest. he is tired to the very core of his being, and it shows in the way he waves hastings away after one-too-many attempts at the same arithmetic problem. it shows in the way he sits at his desk before the class, rubbing at this throbbing temples, the echo of the previous night’s supper ringing in his ears. though the sentiment is there most days, today he truly does not care if his students learn or not. he just wants a stiff drink, maybe a quick shag, something to take his mind off it all.
shifting in his seat, he withdraws the pocket watch snug in his trouser pocket. the gold around the clasp is worn with decades of use, and when he unlocks the face, the watch within is slightly obscured by a thin crack over the number five. still, despite its flaws, the clock ticks on. there’s a metaphor there, he knows, about himself: worn, broken, but still working. he’s too jaded to believe it.
he rises from his chair. the legs scrape against the floor. “it’s lunch,” he announces, breaking the heavy silence of the classroom with his deep voice. “take your things and go home. class is dismissed for the rest of the day.”
from her place in the front row, maryanne bats her eyelashes in confusion. “what’s the occasion, sir?” she sits straight at her desk, eager to please, panting for some drip of his attention.
gwilym doesn’t have any attention to spare for maryanne, for any of his students, really. his eyes flick from maryanne to the open window to you. he clears his throat and looks away. “it’s a nice day out, maryanne,” he says. “we shouldn’t waste it inside. don’t you agree?”
she grins and nods as she hastily gathers her things together. “oh, yes, of course!”
his jaw goes tight as he says, “thank your mother again for inviting me to supper yesterday. it was very kind of her.”
scarlet blush crawls over maryanne’s cheeks. she holds her books snug against her chest, her shoes dancing back and forth in nerves across the hardwood floor. “you are more than welcome any time, sir.”
he nods once, glancing toward the open schoolhouse door. she gets the picture; their conversation is through. grabbing hastings hand, she drags her brother out of the building and into the sunshine, leaving gwilym in blessed silence. he drops to his chair with a groan, cradling his forehead between his pointer finger and thumb. outside he can here his pupils laughing in the field. he removes his hands from his face and looks out the window-lined wall. hands crossed in his lap, he watches the children play, wonders what it feels like to live so carefree.
had he ever been like that as a child: wild, uninhibited? he must’ve been—surely. his long-term memory is poor, brought on by a hard tumble he’d taken from a horse at an early age, but memory impairment aside, he wasn’t always this sullen, this removed. surely.
“mr. lee?”
he jolts at the sound of your voice, twisting in his chair to see you standing before his desk, a crease of worry between your brows. he frowns. “miss [y/l/n]? have you been there long?”
you shake your head, and a lock of hair falls out from behind your ear. you tuck it back, your eyes falling momentarily to the floor before you say, “no. well, yes. i was gathering my things, and you looked... pensive.”
he sits upright, and the urge to smooth his hair works its way to his fingers. he adjusts his glasses instead. “pensive? that doesn’t bode well.”
at his half-hearted attempt at levity, the corner of your mouth lifts. you step closer to his desk. “i wanted to be sure you were alright after supper last evening.”
his gut clenches at the memory, the shame of john coulder’s interrogation, at having to be saved by his own student, at that student being you. “i’m fine, truly,” he says, an edge to his voice he doesn’t mean.
still, you push further. “it’s just that mr. coulder... he’s not very diplomatic when it comes to asking questions. i thought maybe you—”
for the second time, gwilym stands from his chair with the intention of ending the conversation. he will not discuss sunday’s supper with you. the memory is still too raw, and his dream of you coming to his rescue is thoroughly and completely humiliating. yet when he stretches to his full height and sees you standing there, the most earnest expression of concern he’s ever seen on another face, he is powerless to stop himself from admitting the truth. he shoves his hands in his pockets, rolling his tongue over his teeth in thought.
“your concern is kind. mr. coulder’s questions were ill-phrased but not unwarranted. the men of this country hold a heavy duty right now. i suspect he was only asking out of patriotism.”
you blink, lips pressed together. he’d thought you’d be satisfied with his answer, but it appears you are not. the crease in your brow deepens. “sir, he was very unkind to you.” you speak as if he didn’t realize, as if he didn’t wet his pillow with tears of shame and hurt.
he nods. “perhaps.”
“it’s not fair, though. i’m sure whatever your reasons are for staying away from the front are valid.”
“again, your kindness does you credit.”
“i’m not trying to flatter you, mr. lee. i’m only speaking the truth.”
gwilym hesitates before saying, “i did not assume you were the flattering type.”
you shake your head. “i’m not.”
he’s not sure if it’s just the warm spring breeze drifting through the open window, but the air feels heavier than it did moments before. his eyes search yours. searching for what he can’t say, but he searches nonetheless. you hold his gaze until the faintest of blushes rises to your cheekbones.
“i must thank you, though, miss [y/l/n], for coming to my aid last evening.” he’s surprised by his confession. it should drive him to his knees in embarrassment that he must concede to his student after they help him with a man twice his age. he is embarrassed, but something—manners, the desire to replicate your honesty, your doe eyes—makes him say it. “i am not sure i would have answered mr. coulder’s questions with a cool head, but you showed great tact. i’m indebted to you for that.”
he bites his tongue. too far, perhaps. a teacher should never be indebted to his student. least of all his oldest, brightest, and yes, he will admit it: most attractive student.
your chest lifts as you draw in a breath through your teeth. “well, i know a way you can repay me.”
his eyes widen, his throat seizing around his adam’s apple. he removes his hands from his pockets and shuffles a stack of unmarked papers on his desk. his hand wavers as he moves, though he’s not sure if it’s due to his tremor or an unwarranted image of you in his arms flashing through his mind.
too far. too far. you’re just a student. he’s just your teacher.
“what would you have me do?” it’s stupid to ask, to play along, but he can’t help it when your hands are clasped behind your back, the ribbon at the end of your braid falling over your shoulder.
“there’s a benefit next week,” you say, and your face eases into a smile. “it’s for the wounded soldiers, and i’m in charge of the bake sale. my grandfather is too old to help and my niece is too young, so i thought perhaps you might like to help me? i’m sure more people will stop by if you’re there. everyone’s still curious about the new schoolmaster.”
gwilym stills, his eyes falling on you. not for the first time, he wonders if there’s something beneath your gaze, beneath your question. there can’t be; there isn’t. just like he is not interested in you, you are not interested in him.
unless...
he clears his throat and looks down at his desk. he brushes a stray pencil to the side. it rolls, rolls, rolls, stops against a heavy book. “i suppose i can make the time to assist.” he meets your eyes despite his gut telling him not to entertain this foolishness any longer. “for you, miss [y/l/n].”
your face clears in something akin to shock. you blink rapidly, your eyelashes fluttering against your freckled cheekbones. for a moment, gwilym imagines maryanne in the moments past, batting her own eyes. it hadn’t made his gut twist like this.
“it’s not for me,” you whisper, and the breathy sound of your voice sends a rush of blood from his head to his manhood. “it’s for the soldiers.”
“yes,” he replies. your gaze is locked on his, deep and probing. “the soldiers.”
a pebble hits the window with a sharp ting, and you both startle—you with a gasp, he with a muttered curse. turning, he stares out the window long enough to see a few of his male students playing a game of stickball with pebbles. a sigh shudders through his chest. no one had seen, had felt the thick tension in the room. thank heaven.
when he turns back to ask you how he can help before the benefit, you are gone.
the day of the benefit dawns bright and clear. it’s warm despite the month. april is generally cool and balmy, but gwilym breaks a sweat as he carries arrangement after arrangement of flowers to a little red wagon outside the cottage. constance sits perched on her portable stool, a cane between her legs as she watches him work.
“be careful with those, gwilym james,” she chides. “i spent all week and won’t have you breaking a single one.”
“i’m being careful, constance.” he huffs as he lowers a bouquet of blue hydrangeas to the wagon. the glass rattles as it squeezes between the dozens of other vases. the wagon is full to bursting of flowers of all kinds and where constance unearthed such of a treasure trove of flowers, he cannot be sure. “you truly expect to sell all these in one afternoon?”
constance draws in a sharp breath and whacks the butt of her cane against his shin. “how dare you!” he yelps, clutching his offended leg, but for once finds it easy to match her sly smile. “my flowers are sought after in the next three counties!”
“i’m sure they are,” he says, chuckling at her twisted features.
she stands, snapping her stool shut with ease. with her chin tilted, she gestures with her cane to the road. “we’ll be late. you know i detest being late.”
rolling his eyes, gwilym grabs the wagon handle from the ground and gently maneuvers the vehicle onto the dirt road leading to the center of the village. the flowers jostle and clang as the wagon dips with the unevenness of the road, but the arrangements hold steady. constance’s steps are slow and small, so he shrinks his stride to match hers. a whisper of a breeze cools the sweat lingering on the back of his neck, and he glances at the cloudless sky. no one could have asked for better weather.
“i hear you are to assist miss [y/l/n] in her confection sale today?”
gwilym nearly trips over a rut in the road, but catches himself at the last moment. he adjusts his hold on the wagon handle, his hand trembling even curled against the cool metal. “yes—she had no one else to help her.”
constance’s eyebrows lift. “ah.”
“you did tell me to be more kindly with my pupils.”
“that i did.”
“then why do you look so displeased?”
“i’m far from displeased, child,” she says with a laugh. “merely cataloging this moment for later.”
gwilym doesn’t ask for further explanation. he doesn’t want to know. it’s bad enough that he spent the entire morning primping and preening over his own reflection. god, he’d felt like such an idiot.
but he couldn’t deny the urge to at least try and put some effort into his appearance. he would be spending the day by your side, after all. not that it mattered...
by the time he rolls constance’s wagon into the village square, the benefit is well under way. snowshill is a small parish; only one-hundred-twenty-three residents, yet it seems every soul has turned out for the event. colorful streamers whip through the mid-morning breeze. a gaggle of musicians sitting underneath a shade tree amble through a litany of well-known tunes. the baker twins, annie and joy, race past gwilym, hand in hand as they head for the dunking booth. he pauses in his study of the square. there’s happiness here. despite it all—the war, the fathers and brothers and husbands so far away, the uncertainty of the future—the villagers have still found a reason to smile. surely, he can to.
“i’ll take this.” constance pulls gwilym from his thoughts as she pries the wagon handle from his hand. “you go over there,” she adds, nodding to a booth on his left. “miss [y/l/n] is waiting.”
he ignores the telling sparkle in her eyes. she can see right through him, the old bat, see straight to the part of his heart he so desperately wants—no, needs—to ignore.
chasing the thoughts away, he turns to locate the corner set aside for the bake sale. it isn’t hard. in an uncomfortable but familiar sort of way, he’s drawn to you, and he finds you easily. at the base of the church gardens, you’re already hard a work. your hair is loose around your shoulders, and the sun glints off a pearl barrette clipping a portion of the strands back. stepping forward, he allows his eyes, for the briefest of moments, to run over your frame. your forest green dress is cinched at the waist with a wide gold band, accentuating your curves. the sleeves of the dress, which fall to your elbows, are sheer, and he can see your skin glistening beneath the sway of shadows and sun. you’re lovely, breathtaking even. he hates the way his heart gallops in his chest at the sight, like he’s a love-struck schoolboy. in reality, he is your teacher and a grown man. the thought alone makes him advert his eyes from the picture of you, dressed well and elegantly, smiling as you speak to a customer.
“there you are!” you twist away from the pie, cake, and cookie laden table to grace him with a brilliant smile. knowing you first and foremost as the level-headed student who rarely speaks save to impart pearls of wisdom, the sight of your wide smile is near blinding. “i was beginning to think you’d forgotten.”
he shakes his head. “never.”
“good.” you point up the hill to the church. “the rest of the pies are in the kitchen. bring them down, won’t you?”
he does so without complaint, returning to the booth with a cherry pie in one hand and a rhubarb pie in the other. he places them on the table with care before asking, “who made all these?”
you shrug and straighten the sign hanging from the makeshift portico attached to the table. “mostly the older ladies of the parish. though,” you say, your eyes sliding to his with mischief. “i did make those.” you point to a small plate of chocolate chip cookies. “you can steal one if you like. i won’t tell.”
gwilym narrows his eyes. “how do i know if i can trust you?”
you laugh—a clear, bell-like laugh—and it goes straight to his gut. “try it and you’ll just have to find out.”
you sit, your attention caught by the toddler scooting about on the a picnic blanket behind the table. gwilym hesitates before taking one of the cookies. it snaps in his hands, and he nudges your arm with his knuckles. you look over your shoulder, glancing at the half of a cookie melting between his fingers.
“take the other half,” he says. “that way we both get in trouble. if i’m going to go down, i’ll take you with me.”
your cheeks color, and he wonders where your mind has gone, but then you take the cookie and your fingers brush his palm. a jolt shoot through his arm, but he ignores it, sitting in the seat beside you.
“it’s very good,” he says after swallowing the dessert. “chocolatey.”
you smile in thanks then reach out, your thumb nearing his cheek. he stills, uncertain if he should move back and risk offense or lean in and risk it all. you swipe your thumb across the corner of his mouth, your touch fleeting but like fire all the same. sitting back, your grin widens.
“you had a bit of chocolate on your lip,” you explain.
“oh.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks the opposite direction.
few villagers have meandered over to the bake sale booth, but the day is early yet. he dares relax and lean back in his chair. he unbuttons his suit-jacket, letting the breeze waft through his sleeves and around his torso. when he turns his head to look at you, he finds you already watching, your eyes trained against his chest which strains against his snug waistcoat. all thoughts evaporate until your eyes lift to his and you blush.
he clears his throat. “uh—the child?” he questions, pointing to the toddler on the ground. she’s chubby, her legs stumpy beneath a yellow day dress and bloomers. “who does she belong to?”
you lift the baby and set her on your knee. the little girl smiles at him and leans against your shoulder, her mouth gnawing around her fist. “my sister,” you say. “she’s away, so grandfather and i are left to take care of eliza.”
“and where is your grandfather?”
“he’s with his mates. they’ve set up shop outside the pub and are more than likely pestering anyone who will listen with their own war stories.”
“he seems like a kind man.”
“oh, he is!” you grin and return eliza to her spot in the shade. “after my parents died, he took me and peggy—that’s my sister—in without a moment’s hesitation.”
before gwilym can question you any further, a familiar voice hits his ears. he rises alongside you as vivianne coulder draws close to the booth.
“oh, look how darling! [y/n], you’ve really outdone yourself!” vivianne eyes the sweets with interest. “however am i to make such a choice? there’s simply too many good things here to choose from.”
“you can always buy multiples, mrs. coulder.” you press your palms against the table, leaning forward to watch as vivianne surveys the array of food. gwilym’s eyes stray toward your backside, which is pushed out, until vivianne breaks his train of thought.
“mr. lee, how did you get mixed up in a bake sale?” she asks, dropping a few coins in your palm as she makes her purchase. “i might have thought you’d participate in the dunk tank like my john.”
as if to punctuate her question, a bell across the square rings followed by a cheer and a splash. someone hit the bullseye.
“mr. lee owed me a favor,” you say. “i had to watch the class one afternoon while he tended to a feral dog in the yard.”
the story isn’t a falsehood, but it’s certainly not why he stands beside you now. he’d almost forgotten about that dog, but perhaps the mangy mutt had been a godsend after all. it certainly kept you from having to admit the real reason for his appearance at the bake sale.
vivianne giggles behind her gloved hand. “how brave!”
your hand, ungloved and warm, lands on his arm. your fingertips squeeze the flesh of his bicep nearly imperceptibility but he feels the gentle pressure like a vice around his skin. “yes,” you continue, seemingly oblivious to the way your touch wrecks him. “he was quite brave.”
vivianne chats with you a moment more—something about maryanne and her sixteenth birthday celebration—but he can barely focus. he’s unnaturally hot under his jacket, despite the cover of shade protecting the table of sweets. he wants to shake your hand from his arm, loosen your hold around his gut, but he doesn’t want to appear rude. he doesn’t want to push you away.
so he stands still. he lives with your fingers against the curve of his shoulder like a man readying himself for execution. his jaw is tight, his eyes focused on the people milling about the square.
when vivianne finally ambles away, he feels free enough to step out of your grasp. he releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. his eyes dart from the ground to your face. you stare at him, your own eyes wide and lips parted ever-so slightly. god, he could kiss you. maybe it would quell the fire in his stomach and get you out of his head. maybe the simple touch would fix all the worn-out and tired thought swirling through his head. he would give into his desire but there’s too many people around and maybe that’s a good thing. he’s not sure he could stop himself if he started.
blessedly, a trio of older women approach the table. he jerks his attention away from you and finds a modicum of solace in auctioning off the bake sale items to whomever will purchase them. the faster the table is clear, the sooner he can go home and take a cold shower.
fate, it seems, has other plans for him because it is not until past-dusk that the charity benefit ends. the last of the pies have been sold off, your niece dragged home by your grandfather when the hour gets too late. gwilym helps you break down the table in silence, the only sound a bird twittering in its nest overhead and the rumble of the dunk tank being hauled away. you look tired, and he’s sure he does too. on the whole, he enjoyed himself. you are pleasant company and skilled at carrying on conversation. in truth, he finds himself wondering if he could spend every waking moment simply sitting by your side. the busy-bodies and children who came by the booth brought him small smiles, as well. the occasional woman called him handsome, even though her age well surpassed his own, and it buoyed his neglected heart. mothers thanked him profusely for his work at the school. he had not realized how much his students seemed to appreciate his efforts in the classroom. on more than one occasion, he’d left the schoolhouse under the impression the vast majority of his pupils were plotting his demise for being so sullen and boring. but perhaps not...
with your aid, he carries the booth’s table to the basement of the church. it is cool in the dark hallway of the building. his shoes sound against the stone floor as he searches for a light switch with nothing but his gaze. he hears a sharp bang followed by a muffled curse.
“you alright?” he asks, casting a glance over his shoulder. he can barely make out your form what with the dim hall and your form covered by night.
you adjust your hold on the end of the table. “yes, i’m fine. i bumped into the doorframe ‘s all.”
“where do we put this table then?”
“the vicar got it out for me early this morning. i suppose we could simply leave it by the pantry in the kitchen.”
“i’m afraid i don’t know where that is.”
he swears he can see you smile despite the low light. “perhaps i should have led the way.”
he mirrors your grin. “perhaps you should have.”
nodding to the left, you say, “that way. down the hall and first door on the right. i left it open.”
with some trouble, he manages to make it to the kitchen, though he too runs into the doorframe of the hallway and you giggle at his misfortune. together, you lower the table against the kitchen wall and step back. you brush your hands together with an air of finality.
“well,” you say with a sigh. “nothing like a good day’s work.”
gwilym turns to look at you in the darkness of the kitchen. a beam of moonlight filters through a single window in the corner of the room. it falls agains the back of your head, shrouding you in a halo of yellowy light. you’re looking at him, too; he can feel it. you look soft, and you stand close enough to touch. he keeps his hands at his sides; they tremble against the creases of his trousers.
“thank you, miss [y/l/n],” he whispers. “i needed a day like today.”
silence reigns supreme for the longest of moments. universes are born and wither in the space between his confession and your response.
but then your lips are on his.
your hands grasp the material around his shoulders, your nails pressing through the fabric in earnest. he can think of nothing else to do—nothing else he should do—other than remain planted firm on the stone floor of the church kitchen. he itches to hold you, to weave his fingers through your hair, and move his mouth over yours. you taste sweet, like cookies, for the brief moment you claim him as your own. still, he is level-headed enough, rational enough, scared enough, to not react—no matter how much he wants to.
you pull back, swallowing hard. your fingertips skim over your mouth. you stare at him, starlight caught in your eyelashes, then run from the basement before he can say a word.
you do not come to class for several days. he calculates that it must be three days you’ve skipped out on him—no, on school. really, he can’t be certain how long you’ve been gone. since he felt the touch of your lips on his, he has thought of little else. the memory consumes him, threatening to swallow him whole. it distracts him when he turns around from the blackboard to see your seat empty and when he dismisses class at the end of the day and does not see you gathering your belongings with your elegant movements. he has lost track of time and of order. at night, he lays awake and stares at his ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head. he runs the moment over and over again, replaying and reframing how it could have gone different.
he could have pushed you away the second you moved closer. at least then he would be able to claim he tried to be a professional, that he tried to distance himself from his interest in his own student.
he could have kissed you back. he’d wanted to. he’d wanted to so badly. he’d wanted to so badly the mere thought of how he’d kept his hands still at his sides makes his brain clench with discomfort.
the thursday after the benefit, after yet another day without your presence in the cramped schoolhouse, he drags his feet to your home. he’s reluctant to go, knowing he should allow you to come back on your own time. whatever it was that possessed you to kiss him, he knows you probably regret the action as much as he regrets not seizing the moment for himself.
you live on the outskirts of snowshill on your grandfather’s sheep farm. the dirt road leading to the white farmhouse is clogged with tufts of fresh grass, revealing its lack of traffic. a handful of hens peck the ground beneath a sprawling oak tree. a flat swing hanging from a thick branch sways back and forth with the afternoon breeze. it’s idyllic—removed from the rest of the world, even as far as snowshill goes, but idyllic.
he’s out of breath from the walk by the time he reaches the front door, but gwilym is self-aware enough to know he would out of breath regardless of his mode of transportation. he’s nervous. his hands shake, and there’s an incessant ringing in his deaf ear. he waits, unsure if anyone on the other side of the bright red door has heard his knock.
“mr. lee?”
the sound, garbled by the blood rushing to his ears and the tilt of his head, comes from his right. he twists to see you standing at the corner of the house. there’s a basket in your hand; it’s empty, save for a pair of small scissors which catch the sun. your blue-checkered dress is faded, the sleeves bunched around your elbows. one of the pockets on either hip seems weighed down with an invisible object. he stops his perusal and notes the clear frown on your face.
he steps forward, huffing out a rushed “miss [y/l/n]”, and nearly topples off the rail-less stoop. he catches himself at the last moment, his hand darting out to press against the frame of the farmhouse.
you gasp, dropping your basket, and rush forward, but when you see he’s righted himself, you stop. “goodness,” you say. “that would’ve been a bad tumble. i’ve told grandfather dozens of times that we need a railing.”
gwilym chuckles in a lame attempt to save face. he takes the three steps to the safety of solid earth and crosses to stand before you. you blink up at him, your lips pinched. there’s a mysterious lack of sparkle in your gaze, and he wonders if he’s the cause of its disappearance.
“you’ve not been to school,” he says.
you shake your head as you turn to pick your discarded basket. “no.”
“why?”
you lift a slim brow. “isn’t the answer obvious, sir?”
“no.”
you hold his stare, and he is the one to look away first. a chill settles around his spine despite the warmth of the day. he wrings his hands together as he looks over the field.
“if that’s all, sir—”
his eyes snap back to yours. “no!” he winces at the desperation in his tone and tries again. “no. i think we should talk, miss [y/l/n], about what happened at the benefit.”
this time you do look away, your cheeks tinged with blush. you gesture toward the meadow behind your home. “i was going to walk down to the river. i need to replenish our herb stock. you may join me if you like.”
“that’s fine,” he says, nodding. “you lead the way.”
the beginning of your walk is spent in silence. the meadow grass tangles around the hem of his trousers, staining them green with leftover dew. you trail ahead of him, your basket skimming over the weeds and grasses like a sailboat in an ocean of nature. he realizes you are without shoes, and the sight of your bare calves and ankles sends his thoughts elsewhere.
you lead him into a grove of cherry and birch trees. pink petals cover the ground and obscure the sky. it’s a haze of color here—cherry blossoms and green leaves, the flutter of an anxious bird’s wings, the clear but rushing waters of the creek. he stops when you do and inhales deeply. strangely, tears prick the corners of his eyes. he could stay here, he thinks, in this picturesque place—no one to bother him or question him or loathe his very existence.
“i never knew snowshill boasted such a beautiful spot,” he admits.
from your place crouched against the ground, your voice is muffled. “yes. i keep it secret”—your voice is clearer when you rise and look over your shoulder—“from nearly everyone. it’s too special to share with the world.”
you lean down again and use your small pair of scissors to snip at a collection of herbs growing along the creekbed. gwilym dares take a step closer, and he points to the herbs in your hand.
“what are those?”
“mint. it grows well by the water.” you lift the bundle. “would you like some?”
instead of taking the offer, he squats beside you. his knee, bent as it is, almost brushes your elbow. he plucks a small leaf of the mint and puts it on his tongue.
you watch as he allows the herb’s flavor to coat his tongue. “my mother used to make very good lemonade with mint.”
“my mother too.” he clears his throat, glances at the trickling stream, then back at you. “miss [y/l/n], about the benefit...”
to your credit, you do not shy away from his pointed gaze. your jaw tightens, but you maintain eye-contact, and he wonders if you can see all the thoughts racing through his head as he looks at you.
“i’m sorry if you misunderstood my gratefulness for our interactions at the coulder dinner and at the benefit. my intention was not to give you any untoward thoughts or—”
“why are you not fighting? in the war?” you interrupt with ease and do not blink as you question him.
despite his initial shock at the change of topic, he finds himself rushing to answer, to explain himself—though to anyone else, he would balk and turn away. “my right ear is deaf.”
“oh.”
“has been for a long time,” he continues. “apparently, good hearing is the mark of a good soldier.”
“and your hands?”
“my hands?”
“why do they tremble?”
at this, gwilym does balk. he stands, running the hands in question through his hair as he turns his back to you. “my hands do not tremble,” he says, his tone close to seething.
you stand to your full height, which isn’t much next to him. “yes they do. i’ve seen them—in class, at the benefit. were you denied service because of that, too?”
he openly glares at you, but he answers truthfully. “no. it developed after my denial.”
“oh,” you say again.
“really, miss [y/l/n], this is not why i wanted to speak with you.”
“i know. you wanted to talk about us.”
“there is no us. there can be no us.”
“i disagree.”
“yes, you would because you are a child, and you don’t understand that you and i giving in to whatever is between us would mean disaster.”
the slap that lands across his cheek echoes in the small grove of trees. he whirls, clutching his face as he stares at you in disbelief. his ear is ringing again, and it’s painful this time, but he knows he deserves it.
your chest heaves when you next speak. “i’m not a child.”
he knows this. he’s seen you as a woman—dreamt of you as a woman—too many times to count.
dropping his hand from his face, he nods. “i know. forgive me.”
you’re quiet, thinking, then you open your mouth to speak.
“i don’t think you realize, gwilym, how good you are for this community.” the sound of his name on your lips is sinful, threatening to tear his focus away from your words. “in the short time you’ve been here, i’ve seen the children in that schoolhouse learn more than they ever did before you came. you’re truly teaching them about the world, not just maths and reading and science. why, even last week hastings actually apologized for pulling on my braids in the past. he told me that you taught him that.”
gwilym frowns. “how? i never told—”
“they watch you. he told me you apologized to mark after you were short with him one afternoon. he told me he wanted to be like you—not his father, you.”
“miss [y/l/n]—”
“and my grandfather? he so admires you. i think he sees himself in you, after he came home from the way. he told me you’re very brave. and constance swears you have the gentlest soul built for caring for others. you may hide it, but she knows that you—”
“that’s enough—please.”
you fall silent, unshed tears washing over your eyes before you say, “don’t you see, gwilym? you walk around with such a weight on your shoulders, but all anyone wants to do—all i want to do—is ease the load. you’re worth that.”
he shakes his head and swallows hard. your speech all but shatters his heart. more than anything, he wants to believe you, wants to believe that he’s good for something. but the pesky thoughts in the back of his mind grip him hard. he can’t shake them.
unfit, unfit, unfit.
“i kissed you that night because i think you are wonderful.” your face cracks into a smile, vibrant and gut-wrenching. “wonderful and smart and handsome and—”
he puts a stop to your words. winding his arms around your back, he pulls you flush against his chest, his mouth lowering to capture yours. you’re stiff at first, in shock by his sudden change of heart, but then you relax, your arms lifting to circle his neck, drawing him ever closer. his lips explore yours with desperation, the weeks he’s spent pining after you crashing to the surface in an explosion of want and need. he moves his hands to cradle your face, and your hands skim to his shoulder blades, your fingers pressed into the skin beneath his waistcoat and shirt. you taste like fresh mint. it’s all he can do to not lower you to the bed of blossom petals on the ground and ravish you until the sun dips below the horizon.
he pulls away, breathing heavy, his forehead rolling against yours. “[y/n]...” you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, and he realizes it must be the first time he’s spoken your name aloud in your presence. “[y/n],” he whispers again. “we can’t.”
you fist your hands in his shirtsleeves. “don’t say that. you feel it as much as i do.”
nodding, he moves to hold your waist. the feel of your body under his hands is heaven. you are divine, like an goddess escaped from la primavera. “i do,” he admits. “i feel it.”
he bends his head to kiss you again. the touch is softer this time, more hesitant, but when he gathers the nerve to pull you closer, your hips against his, you whimper into his mouth, and the sound pulls him back to reality. he practically trips backward, breathing labored, thoughts muddled, and body rigid.
the space between you swims with lust and desire and yearning. your lips are plump, your cheeks flushed. your eyelids flutter, seemingly dazed, but not at all confused. you know what you want; he knows what he wants.
“we must keep it secret,” he says.
you nod.
“i won’t be able to touch you or—or be with you in public.”
“i know.”
“i could get in a lot of trouble if anyone finds out.”
you flinch at this, briefly looking to the side. “i know.”
shaking his head, he mutters “god help me, it would be worth it even if i did” as he crosses the space between you and crashes his lips to yours once more.
there is no hesitation now. he moves with purpose and you follow his lead. gently, he guides you to the blossom-strewn floor, his fingertips discovering the valleys and contours of your body with ease. his lips graze the curve of your neck, a feather’s touch, a butterfly’s kiss. you shift beneath him and pull his face level with yours. you glance between his eyes, chest brushing against his with the labor of your breathing.
he removes a twig from your hair, flicking it away. “do you want this?” he asks.
“always.” you smile, and it sends his heart tumbling in his chest.
you reach down and lift the hand pressed against the ground beside your hip. it leaves him in an awkward hunch overtop of you, only his left elbow propping him up, but he’s curious at your movements. holding his wrist, you touch your left palm to his.
“your hand isn’t shaking,” you whisper.
he looks at your joined flesh, at the way his fingers stand straight against yours. there isn’t the slightest waver in his hand. dropping his palm from your grasp, he melds his body against yours beneath the cherry tree as the sun inches toward the horizon.
it goes on like this for some time: you and he stealing moments throughout the week, in whatever privacy is available. for the first time in years, he is happy. he’d grown so used to his sullen state he forgot what joy felt like, but you’ve given it back to him in bundles.
he’s not exactly sure what it is about you that captivates him so. perhaps it is your whole being.
you are intelligent, easily tutoring your classmates when they fall behind. you are generous, often sharing your meals with the neediest of students. you are witty and lively in your silliest of moods and gentle and serene at your most centered. you listen to him when he speaks—truly listen—and you challenge him with your observations and questions.
he enjoys holding you, caressing your soft skin, kissing your lips. the cherry blossom grove is where he holds you most. it is a safe place amidst an unsafe world. beneath the shade of the birch trees, he is untouchable. he is free to speak as he wishes, love you as he pleases. he is open and honest and everything he feels he cannot be in town.
and, yes, he thinks he loves you—even after such a short time. he would be a fool not to have fallen for you by now. despite the years between you, despite the complexities of his position, he knows he would chose you again.
the weeks bleed into months. spring edges into the beginning of summer. you will finish school soon and be out from under his tutelage, released to the frayed fragments of freedom to which britain still clings. neither of you have spoken on the topic. though it looms overhead, it’s still far yet. you have time.
you are cradled against his chest, the aftermath of your most recent lovemaking still lingering on your bodies and in the air. you hum into the crook of his neck, and your fingers swirl around the hair peppering his chest.
“gwilym?” you press a kiss to his shoulder before adjusting yourself to lean on your elbow, looking down on him.
he opens one eye. “hmm?”
“what do you think will happen after the war ends?”
he opens both eyes at this and moves his head to meet your questioning gaze. the blanket beneath him rustles, and the branches overhead sway with the warm breeze. he isn’t sure what question he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the one you posed. you surprise him every day in that way—always curious, always searching for answers.
“i’m not sure,” he says. “provided we win, i suppose germany will be forced to make reparations. with the americans in the fight now it won’t be long before the kaiser gives up.”
“will you leave us then? once everything’s back to normal?”
he answers quickly and honestly, surprised at the passion in his own voice. “no, never.”
your brow creases. “but you came here running from the war. won’t you go home when it’s done?”
he blinks and considers. months ago, he would have said yes. given the chance, he would have fled back to london without a moment of hesitation. now... now he’s not so sure.
“home is wherever you are.” the words tumble from his mouth before he can stop them, but once they hang in the air, he knows they are the truth. wherever you go, he will follow. he would forsake his entire past if it meant he could stay by your side.
your lips tug into a small smile, and you sit straighter, turning your face away. “you mustn’t say things you don’t mean.”
he runs a fingertip over the curve of your exposed shoulder, down the rise and fall of your spine. if anyone were to break through the line of trees, they would see you both and have no issue filling in the missing pieces of the puzzle, naked as you both are. still, he’s comfortable; he always is around you.
“i mean what i say, [y/n]. i’m not a flatterer.”
your head whips around, and your eyes twinkle with mirth. “don’t steal my words, gwilym,” you say with a laugh, pushing at his chest.
sitting up, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you against his side. “i can steal whatever i please. like this,” he says, punctuating his words with a kiss on the mouth. “or this.” he kisses the flesh beneath your collarbone. “or—”
you press a finger to his lips. “not everything.” your grin turns sly, and you coquettishly bat your eyelashes. “i’m a virgin, after all, and must remain so for my future husband.”
gwilym laughs, tossing his head back. “is that so?”
you nod. “my maidenhood is the most sacred thing about me.”
“oh, we’ll see about that!”
with an easy maneuver, gwilym has you on your back. your giggles—girlish but edged with desire—circle his head like a drug. you swat at his shoulders when he braces himself over you, his mouth like a tattoo on your skin. he could stay like this forever—just you and him, the cherry blossom trees, and the endless sky. he would stay, too, but after your picnic dinner and an argument over the smartest literary character of all time (he insists sherlock holmes; you insist portia from the merchant of venice), he must walk you home before your grandfather begins to worry.
he wonders if the old man suspects anything. he comes to your house multiple afternoons a week under the guise of preparing you for university should you choose to go further with your education. that study time always floats from the kitchen table to the back garden to the grove of trees, and you’re gone for hours. you always return looking rumbled, your dress askew, his tie undone, but the old man never says a word if he does know the truth. for that, gwilym is thankful.
tonight, he leaves you at the backdoor. the sky is a blanket of stars, and the moon shines bright overhead. standing as you are on the lowest stair leading to the door, you can meet his eyes with ease, and you seem to appreciate the change in perspective. you run your hands through his hair, your fingernails grazing his scalp. his eyes flutter shut at the feeling, his grip on your hip tightening.
“don’t do that, [y/n],” he breathes.
you smirk. “why? do you like it?”
he grits his teeth and opens his eyes to level you a dark stare. “you know i do.”
grinning, you kiss him hard, enough to leave him breathless when you pull away. “tomorrow? same place?”
“i have a meeting tomorrow afternoon with the vicar. i’ll come by afterwards.”
you shake your head and smooth your hands against his shoulders. the action is so domestic, so wifely, he can’t help but picture you as his wife, sending him away for a day of work. “don’t bother. i think i’ll pop around for tea with constance. perhaps i’ll run into you then?”
gwilym audibly groans at the idea of seeing you in his own home, sat across from his landlady, smiling and laughing, all the while making eyes at him from across the table. he shivers—but not because of the cold. “you’re gonna be the death of me, girl.”
you touch his cheek with such tenderness it makes his knees weak. “i hope so.”
maryanne is the one who ultimately discovers and reveals your affair. even so, gwilym blames himself and himself alone. he got too comfortable. months of loving you in secret—months of tasting you and knowing you and cherishing you—cannot be hid behind a sullen face. and his face is not longer sullen.
he finds himself smiling more, asking his students about their lives instead of their assignments. he grades easier, waves his hand at forgotten homework, prolongs lunch break so he can eat with you. perhaps the change in his demeanor was what sent maryanne on the hunt. that—or the fact she caught him kissing you amongst constance’s prized hydrangea bushes.
he hadn’t been positive if the flash of pink fabric and yellow hair was maryanne, so he’d never mentioned it to you. he’d just kept kissing you, though his attention had slipped and his movements turned distracted when he heard the rustle of a bush. he’d opened his eyes long enough to see the out-of-place pink nestled within the green bushes and blue flowers, but then the color was gone and you were whispering something filthy in his ear and it made him laugh. he’d forgotten; he’d gotten comfortable.
now he wishes he’d grabbed maryanne and forced her to keep her mouth shut. with two weeks until your graduation, time is of the essence. he’d lose you if anyone found out, and he wasn’t about to let that happen.
he hadn’t caught maryanne, though, and she’d rushed home to tell her mother who had promptly told the idiot john coulder who had informed the vicar and the vicar had come to relive gwilym of his teaching duties—no questions asked.
“you do realize what a mess you’ve made, haven’t you?” the vicar had said upon his arrival. “there will have to be an investigation. we don’t stand for this sort of thing in snowshill.”
gwilym hadn’t said anything. he’d simply loomed over the squat man and summoned as much of a glower as he could. it wasn’t very hard, not with his entire world crashing down around him.
he lies down that night and wonders what will become of him. he will be a social pariah, an outcast, the man who seduced a child, the teacher who coerced a student. it isn’t like that; he knows it and you do too. he loves you, though he hasn’t said as much. he suspects you love him too.
he could take you away from here. you could both start over somewhere new, where no one knows your names. the idea is tantalizing, and it wouldn’t be hard, but he knows you won’t leave your grandfather and niece behind.
there’s a knock on his bedroom door, and he sits up, hitting his head on the slope of the attic ceiling. rubbing the offended area, he frowns.
“who is it?”
“who do you think?” constance says, her tone as unamused as his.
“i’m not really in the mood for visitors.”
he knows she knows. he knows she stood in the front parlor and listened to every word the vicar spat at his feet. he just didn’t have the guts to look her in the eyes before he fled to his room.
“you missed supper, child. i’ve brought you a bowl of soup.”
reluctantly, gwilym slides from bed and goes to open the door. constance stands at the top of the stairs, wrapped in a purple robe, the neck lined with feathers. she pushes him a bowl of split-pea soup and swishes into the room to drop in the single, hard-backed chair. it creaks beneath her weight. he turns to look at her; the heat of the bowl burns his hands, and his palms tremble.
“constance, i—”
“i must admit that i’d hoped you would find a friend in [y/n] [y/l/n], perhaps even something more.”
his jaw slackens. “i’m sorry?”
“when you mentioned you were going to the coulder house for supper and she would be there, i knew she would do you well. i knew her mother before she died, and that girl has her mother’s tender heart. both could heal even the sternest of wounds.”
he blinks, looks away. yes, you could. you healed him, after all.
“i simply wished you would have been more careful. my hydrangea bushes are not the most secretive spot in the world.”
“you knew?”
she nods, her painted lips tight. “mhm. ever since you came home that first afternoon smelling too much like women’s perfume and sheep’s wool.”
gwilym drops to his bedside, the soup in his bowl sloshing with the movement. “why didn’t you say anything?”
she laughs as if she’s taken offense by his query. “i may concern myself with everyone’s business, gwilym, but it is not my business to go about spreading the business which i know.”
“you are a strange woman.”
“you are a man in love.”
he looks down at the rapidly-cooling food in his lap.
“i shouldn’t tell you this,” constance continues. “it will only make you hope, but i know what it is you’re feeling.”
he scoffs. “do you?” somehow he doubted that. constance, having never been married, knew more of felines than she did feelings. at least, any of the feelings roiling through his person now.
“when i was seventeen i had an affair with my teacher. he was young and handsome and charming, and i was happy. but we were found out, and he was run out of town. i never saw him again.”
“how is this supposed to give me hope?”
“my xavier was not given the chance to explain himself before his accusers. you are being afforded that opportunity. use it.”
“they’ve taken my position already. they can do nothing more. this hearing is a farce, and you know it.”
constance smooths the wrinkles of her dressing gown and flicks away a spot of imaginary dust as she shrugs. “prides goeth before the fall. remember that come thursday.” she rises. “you have the chance to keep her, gwilym. she turns twenty next month and will graduate in a fortnight. even if you leave snowshill together, will you be able to live with yourself knowing you did not defend her honor before the people who know her best? sleep on that, won’t you?”
she exits the room before he can respond, and he falls asleep to growing pit of desperation in his stomach.
there’s a ping against his window some time late wednesday night. it startles him out of his uneasy sleep, and he sits up, rubbing his eyes. when it happens again, he turns to look out the window over his head. nothing but the black, starless night sky and open meadow beyond constance’s gardens. he huffs. perhaps it had been a bird or—
another ping.
teeth gritted, gwilym flings his window open and peers into the darkness, straining his eyes to see. what he doesn’t see, he hears, despite his deafness.
“gwilym!” the whisper is harsh and frantic, but a beautiful melody nonetheless. somewhere in the darkness, you stand, looking up at him. “gwilym, come down here!”
he doesn’t need to be told twice.
forgoing his shoes, he tumbles down the stairs and into the back garden. the night is brisk, chilly, a precursor of what is to come at dawn. he finds you in the darkness, or maybe you find him, but you’re there, in his arms, and that’s all that matters. you cling to him, your hands fisted in his bedshirt, ear pressed against his chest. he hasn’t seen you since maryanne revealed your relationship to the world; you feel like heaven amidst hell.
“i don’t have much time,” you whisper. “mrs. coulder is at the farm, watching over me to make sure i don’t come to find you.”
gwilym draws back. he holds your face in his hands and is struck by how large his palms are against the side of your head. your hair feels soft under his shaking fingers. the tremor is back; it has been since his world collapsed.
“are you alright? have they done anything to you?”
“i’m fine. the vicar questioned me yesterday, tried to make me confess that you’d pressured me into being with you, but i only told the truth.”
“the fucker,” he mutters. “i’m sorry you had to do that. the blame lies entirely with me.”
“don’t worry about me. you have to speak before everyone tomorrow.”
“and it’ll be fine.”
“will it?” tears sparkle in your eyes as you look up at him. “no one will accept us even if—”
he silences you with a kiss to the forehead. “hush, [y/n]. whatever happens will happen. so long as you are well cared for, it will all be fine.”
“you sound as if you’re prepared to go away.”
“if they ask me—”
“gwilym, you promised you wouldn’t leave.”
he looks down at you. god, he loves you. with every fiber of his being, he longs to make you his. but he’s reminded of constance’s story every time he thinks of you now, and he’s been imagining a new sort of life by your side. one filled with dirty looks and whispers around every corner; of evenings alone, no friends to call on, no family to worry over; of a job in a far off village which takes him on the road and leaves you to yourself in that overly large farmhouse; friendless children; lonely in old age.
can he subject you to such a life? a life so similar to the one you’d pulled him from? he’s not sure he can—and he’s begun to wonder if constance’s xavier did the right thing by leaving her, by giving her a second chance.
“i know i did,” he finally says.
“then why are you talking like this? like you want to go?”
he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip and feels his gut wrench. “that’s the last thing i want.”
you chin quivers beneath his fingers, and he removes his hand from your face. “then tell me what it is you’re planning to do. please, gwilym. don’t you owe me that?”
in lieu of answering you, he wraps his arms around your back, lifting you so your feet merely brush the carpet of grass. he kisses you softly, savoring the touch and tucking it away in his heart for a future moment. he wants to memorize the map of your skin beneath his fingers and the feel of your mouth on his. he wants to commit the smell of your hair and the contours of your body and the feeling of love that crashes over him to memory. he’s not sure if he’ll have a moment like this again, so he prolongs the touch until he can barely breathe. he returns you to solid ground and pulls away.
“gwilym—” you’re crying, and he wonders how he didn’t taste your tears.
“don’t come tomorrow. i don’t want you to hear what they say.”
you set your jaw. “i’ll be there. i won’t leave you.”
he knows you’re bating him to reveal his plan, but he won’t. until his dying day, he will protect you from harm. tonight, he must protect you from himself.
because he can’t help it, he grabs your elbow and pulls you in for a last bruising kiss. you circle your arms around his neck and cling to him, even as he tries to pull away.
“let me go, [y/n],” he whispers.
you hold tighter, your eyes screwed shut as you shake your head. “no.”
“let me go, angel.” with some amount of effort, he pries you from his body. a rush of cold fills the spot where you’d stood, pressed against him.
he turns away, returning to the cottage, but not before he sees you hide your face behind your hands and hears you sob softly into the darkness.
you arrive at the hearing dressed in red. the sight of you flanked by your grandfather, wearing your boldest, brightest red dress, almost makes him laugh. you’re nothing if not brave.
standing in the doorway of the church, you survey the room, which is full to bursting. everyone has turned out for the event of the year, and the air is hot with sweat and summer and scandal. when your eyes meet his from across the room, he can’t help but offer a smile. you smile in return, and the softness around your eyes is a balm to his soul. you point to an empty pew in the back of the hall and take your seat. though your face is obscured, he can make out the shoulders of your bright dress from his place in a chair on the dais.
he sits before the entirety of snowshill, the weight of the world pressed down on his shoulders. he feels close to vomiting, but he knows what he must do. he’s ready.
when the vicar begins the proceedings, outlining your entire affair in torrid detail, gwilym keeps his face set firm. his hand bunches the fabric at his thighs and his teeth press against his tongue but he’s calm to the untrained eye. it’s only when the vicar asks him to say his piece that his facade begins to crumble.
he stands too rapidly, and his chair crashes to the floor. he leaves it lying against the cobblestone. he opens his mouth and releases a squeak. heat rushes up the back of his neck, and he clears his throat. from her place in the front pew, constance leans forward, her brows knit tight in concern. his gaze skips to you and, standing now, he can see your face.
you’re beautiful.
gwilym opens his mouth to speak. “everything you have said about me here today is true, vicar.” there’s a muffled gasp throughout the crowd, but he continues. “i did enjoy an illicit affair with my own pupil and, though i admit i should have perhaps waited to court the girl in question until after her graduation, i will not concede that what we did was wrong.”
the vicar’s hands curl around the pulpit, his face ashen. “have you no shame, sir?”
“no shame in partaking in what the lord intended us for: communion and fellowship with one another.”
“how dare you!”
gwilym ignores him and returns his eyes to yours amidst the crowd. “if i am guilty of anything, i am guilty of doing as the lord commands us: loving my fellow man—or, in this case, woman. the greatest of these is love, i believe, yes? so yes, i am guilty, but guilty only of loving a woman whole-heartedly.” he pauses and feels the overwhelming urge to laugh bubble in his chest. “i love you, [y/n], and that is the truth. if that is my crime, i will bear it with honor.”
tears blur his vision as he extends his hand to you. a beat of silence and then—
you stand, your red dress a spotlight among the sea of browns and greens and grays. you step into the aisle, smile, and he notes as you walk forward that his hand does not shake as he waits for you to reach his side.
#gwilym lee#gwilym lee x reader#gwilym lee imagine#prof!gwil#bohemian rhapsody#bohemian rhapsody fanfiction#j writes
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Sett x Reader - Only good memories I have.
word count: 1, 264
requested: yes! by anon: “ I HAVE AN IDEA! Can you please write about Sett and his first love from childhood? I think it could be like, she would help him when people bullied him and she would also stand by him like a good friend, but her parents makes her go away because she made herself a bad reputation around village but they would meet some time later? I don't know it's a good one but I hope you like it and enjoy writing it. Love you. 💗 “
warnings: Fic is in first POV - From Sett’s perspective! ; not sure if there are any other?? Ask to tag I guess-
A/N: at original ask! ^^” [here]
I usually never drink alone.
Normally, I hang around many people, around many women interested in me, it’s always loud and fun.
But the last party made me think...why don’t I have a stable relationship? I have many admirers to at least try with. But I never do. Why?
Here comes my reason for drinking alone today. In a toast for them.
[Y/N] [L/N].
I haven’t seen them in years, to be honest. I have no idea why I still wonder how they are doing in life. How they grew up. I’m not really a sentimental person, but I keep thinking about them every time someone hits on me.
Let me be honest here, as a kid I LOVED them. I really admired their bravery. They never hesitated before standing up for me. Back then I was just a half-breed brat, no one really cared how I felt. Well, a certain somebody cared. Cared enough to protect me - then befriend me. Partly thanks to them I am who I am now. I am way stronger.
Did I mention it’s only partly?
Yeah, that’s because they disappeared out of sudden. Just...poof. Gone. I tried searching for them but no one really cared to help half-vastayan brat. I was too young to try and reach out to them, wherever they disappeared to.
No matter the reason, they made me live through good memories. Hell, they’re the only good memories I have. (Beside ones that made my momma happy. You know the drill.)
Now - on the other hand - I was strong enough to search for them, but I’ve lost track a long time ago. (It’s not like I never tried. I tried, nothing worked.)
I’m overthinking again. I should stop drinking for today, I think I’ll go to sleep.
Shit! I knew I should’ve stopped earlier with drinking, now I overslept to work. Noone will give me an earful of that, but still, I shouldn’t be like that.
...I don’t know why I’m so worried. I’d love to see someone TRY to tell me something. I felt honestly tired, and seeing the pile of papers on my desk just made me groan. On my chair was sitting Catherine, playing with her long locks, rolling them around pointing finger. Here goes my right hand woman.
- You’re late.
- You know I’m never late.
- Well NOW you’re late.
- Don’t YOU usually make my paperwork? - I tried to change a topic.
- I do! But even “”The Boss”” needs a punishment for not doing his duties right. Have fun, Sett! - ...and she wasn’t having any of that.
She stood up and left, making me regret every decision made yesterday. I forgot why I trust her so much. She’s strong.
And I’m stuck with paperwork for the rest of the day. Great.
It’s been three hours and I can’t keep my eyes open. How boring paperwork can get? I hope it can't be more than it is now. Maybe I’ll take a short nap?
Idea was great, but then one of my people walked into the room with a nervous smile.
- What. - I said harshly. Maybe unintentionally, blame it on my tiredness.
- Boss, that one, weird person wants to see you. I’m not sure what they want, they just say you won’t regret it… - God, how much can one person shake? I rolled my eyes, standing up.
- Well I hope this “weird person” is right. I need some entertainment right now. - I stood up from my desk and gave this chicken of a dude a slap on the back, starting walking beside him.
Now I started wondering how is this person so sure I won’t regret it? They think they can beat me? Highly doubt that. I’d love to see that challenger. I never realised I was smirking with determination. I wanted to punch out my frustrations, so good timing, stupid random dude. I was ready to approach the incarnation of an idiot, but to my surprise there was no buff guy saying he’d come back for my head.
It’s…[Y/N].
What was going on- what-
- Heyy...I see you’re glad to see me? God, how did you grow up so much, what was your mother feeding you? Sheesh…- you sighed happily, slowly walking up to me. I still can’t believe my eyes.
- [Y/N], what…- I started, but instead of thinking, I just made big steps to approach you faster. I hugged you tightly, dearly, now laughing loudly. - Ohhh my God! I can’t believe you came here all by yourself!
- Well it certainly wasn’t easy? Your mom told me you’re at-
- Shhh. - I stopped you from talking. Not here, in front of my people. - I know. Come to my office, let’s talk, it’s been ages!
- That’s true, but look how you managed to grow up with life! To think I was the one to protect The Big Boss when we were little.
- Ah, stop that, you’re embarrassing me… - I murmured, scratching the back of my neck.
- Okay, I’ll wait with that to your office - you teased, making me chuckle.
After that one we walked in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s presence. I can’t believe they’re here now, I’m so excited!
...come think of it. I have no idea when I was so happy earlier in life after they disappeared. It’s like my childhood feelings are coming back to me, hitting my heart really hard.
We were already in my office. I sat on the table, ignoring completely my responsibilities that Catherine gave me. You sat on the chair in front of me. I never tear my gaze away from you, I just can’t stop looking.
- You grew to be really attractive yourself, you know? - I blurted out of sudden. Well, I always was blunt with them.
- O-oh, did I? It’s really flattering, coming from eye candy like you.
- Oooh. That was nice, [Y/N]. - and after that we had a wave of laughter together. Feels like good old days. After that they sighed and patted my leg.
- But Settrig, be honest with me. Okay?
- I don’t like this expression, [Y/N].
- Your mom doesn’t know SHIT about this place, right?
- ...She doesn’t. She thinks that I-
- Work on building an orphanage? I heard. Got really surprised you weren’t there!
- Hey, don’t be like that, I’m helping with funding that one, don’t be so harsh.
- I won’t tell her, I know how it would break her heart.
- ...thanks, [Y/N]. Still really reliable, I see?
- As ever ,Settie. - Ah, that nickname again. I can’t stop smiling, this sucks.
- So, now be honest with me. Why did you disappear, I really missed you.
- ...I’m...not as strong as you think. I gained some opinions of me around the village and my parents couldn’t handle it. So they decided to flee till they could. Just because their child befriended half-breed. I hated this. I wanted to tell you - they never gave me a chance.
- Then why do you call yourself ‘not as strong’? Moron, it’s none of your fault.
- I felt guilty of leaving you behind. You must’ve been so lonely…
- I was. Weren’t you?
- ...I was. - I didn’t really like the frown you made.
-...Awh, come on. C’me here. - I opened my arms for you to come for a hug. You stood up and hid in my embrace right away.
It’s been years, but I can tell I feel as comfortable around them as they never really were gone. This feels right. They always felt right to me.
About my feelings…
They never really disappeared in the first place.
#hacker writes#league of legends#league of legends x reader#lol x reader#league of legends x y/n#league of legends x you#lol x y/n#lol x you#sett x reader#sett the boss x reader#lol sett x reader#sett x y/n#sett x you#sett the boss x y/n#sett the boss x you#sett the boss x s/o#sett x s/o#lol sett x you#lol sett x y/n#lol sett x s/o#ask to tag#league of legends imagines
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the death of me
Esme Cullen x fem child of the moon reader
@rexburn12
asked for a child of the moon reader who moves to fork the same time Bella does, and teaches at the high school. she smells Esme on one of the Cullen kids and imprints. and the same goes for Esme.
A/n I'm sorry this took me so long, I was burnt out and couldn't bring myself to write anything, even though I thought about this story and my other unfinished story’s the entire time. I hope you like it. PS I don’t know how to write werewolf character’s and I have no clue what teachers are like.
(Y/n) POV
'Just perfect... My first day teaching and I'm late.' You think to yourself, locking your front door. 'My first class starts in 14 minutes, if I speed a should make it there 2 minutes before the bell.' I think, groaning. Frantically pressing the unlock button on your car key, you jog down the sidewalk towards you car.
"Morning Miss (L/n), shouldn't you be at the school?" Your neighbor Charlie Swan asks. "Yes. I overslept." You say, stopping. You look at him, embarrassed.
"Well, i wont tell anyone." He laughs. 'Oh right, he was telling me yesterday, some towns people could be a little judgemental of newcomers' you smile appreciatively, heading towards your car again. "hey, my daughter, Bella. just start today, she a junior." Charlie says, he goings to continue but you beat him to it.
"I'll keep an eye on her." You promise. He nods his thanks. You smile, getting in your car.
You sit down at your desk, letting out a sigh. You made it a minute before a first bell rung. You don't really need to prepare anything, all you're doing today is roll call, so you can put faces to names and giving the kids a quiz just to see how far they've gotten and what they'll need help with in the future. The quiz in no way effects they're grades.
The bell rings. Students start entering the class room, taking they're seats. As they do, you get up and write your name in a dry erase board.
Once the last student enters, the door shuts behind them. You take a deep breathe. 'Here we go again' you think, then turn to the class.
"Morning, class." You get a few "mornings" back along with a few groans from the kids who aren’t awake yet.
"As you can see on the board my name is (Y/f/n)." You say, glancing around the class room before continuing. "I'm not going to give that speech all the other young teachers give. You're all Basically adults, you know how you should act in class." I finish saying, and stare at a boy who's been whispering to his friend about the new girl. 'Bella' you think as you continue to stare at him till his friend nudges him and he look straight into your eyes. He mumbles a "sorry" and starting paying attention.
You sigh "I'm not a mean teacher, I just think it's annoying when I'm teaching and someone thinks NOW, is the best time to talk about a girl." His friends starts laughing, while he starts turning red, and shrink down in his seat.
After the class laughs for a second, you apologize to him for singling him out and continue.
"Since its my first day, we're going to do two things. I'm going to call your names so I can put faces to the names on this list I have." You gesture to a piece of paper in hold.
"Then I'm going to hand out these quizzes so I can see where you're all at." Everybody groans at that. "I know, I know, I suck. Put this in no way affect your grades, but please try your hardest." You finish up the telling them what we're doing and go to lean on front of my desk, holding the piece of paper.
"Lets see... Katie Bell?" You say, looking up from the paper. A girl in the front says "Here." You smile at the girl then look at the next persons name.
"Alice Cullen?" You say, glancing around the room. "Here." A girl says, smiling at you. You freeze. Just for a second in real time but felt like forever to you. 'No' you think as you stare at this pale girl. 'No, there's no way. She wouldn't be in a school if it were true. Her eyes aren't red and she's not wearing contacts.' You snap out of it.
Quickly reading the next name on the list. "Edward Cullen." You say, and gulp. You look up, scanning the room for the boy who's name you just read. You see Alice kick the boy sitting next to her. You look at him to find him staring at you. More like glaring really. He has the same pale skin color as his sister. Another harder kick from Alice makes him snap out of it and answer "Here." He grunts.
You continue reading off names. Trying not to worry. Finally you've figured out everyone's names.
You then grabs the pile of papers from my desk. Normal you'd just hand them to a kid in the front to pass out but you need to get closer to the two Cullen. You need to know for sure.
You start walking don't the Isles passing our the quizzes. You started at the other side of the room to not look too suspicious. Finally getting over to them hand them they're papers. You inhale, and almost growl. You glance at Alice to see her trying to hold back a choking sound.
You quickly give out the rest of the papers and sit done at your desk quietly gasping for clean Air. You cough trying to clear your throat. You look up at the student's all of them waiting for you to tell them they can begin.
"Okay, when you've finish you may quietly play with your phone or read or whatever. you just can't leave till the bell. May you begin." You say, looking at everyone except the two pale kids in the back.
As the hour slowly ticks by, you keep glancing over at the Cullen's. Always looking away before you get caught. You noticed the finished there quizzes before anyone else and are now quietly talking amongst themselves. You don't even try to listen in on them, your too much in you're head to focus.
Finally the bell rings, students start grabbing there stuff and heading up to the desk to hand they're quizzes in. You take them, with a smile. saying goodbye to them as they pass.
The room slowly starts to clear out. Realizing the Cullen are in the back on the line of kids handing in they're papers. The smells a death getting stronger the fewer kids there are.
They finally get up to my desk, Edward puts the paper on your desk and leaves not without giving you a weird look before he does so. You watch him storm off, but the smell is still as strong as ever. Remember Alice is still here, you turn back to her quickly. She's standing there. Smiling, holding out her paper for you to take.
You do so, never breaking eye contact. You were the only people in the classroom. After a few seconds Alice flashes you a big smile then leaves.
'What an odd girl' you think shaking your head.
The rest of the day went by pretty fast. Only have three more problem through out the day. The names of these problems were Emmet, Jasper and Rosalie.
Five vampires at the school, that might become an even bigger problem soon. If they live in forks, you might run into them during a full moon. and that will end really badly for either them or yourself.
As you pack up to go home you hear a knock at the class room door. "Come in!" You yell, not looking up from the papers you're packing away.
The door opens and you don't even need to know who just walked in now, the smell of death hits you. It's getting easier to look past the smell though, you can tell that the Vampire that just walk in was Alice. You can smell her natural scent, lavender.
"How can I help you, Miss Cullen?" You say, finally looking up.
"Jasper left his coat in here"
"Ah yes, he ran out as soon as the bell rung."
You glance over at Jasper Hale's seat. There his jacket sat. Alice going to grab it. You finish grabbing your things, and walk to the door.
You open it and wait for Alice to grab the jacket and leave the classroom before you turn off the lights. Alice practically skips back over to you, now holding the jacket. You hold the door open for her, as she passes you're hit with a smell so strong your knees go weak and you have to grip the door for support.
You faintly hear Alice ask what was wrong, but you couldn't even look up at her let alone respond. Everything felt so never wrong yet so right. You've never felt something so powerful come over you before.
All you know is whomever that scent belongs too, will be the death of you, and you'll welcome it happily.
Just as quickly as it started it was over, you stand up right. Taking deep breaths, you look at Alice.
She's standing there, completely confused. You take another breath before saying as calmly as you can. "I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow Miss Cullen." You try to say it as dismissively as possible, in hope she'll leave. She does think a quick goodbye before she turns and walks down the hall.
Wasting no time, you turn the lights off, lock the door and leave.
Esme's POV
"Esme! We're home." You hear Alice say from the front door. You smile, and walk down stairs to see your children.
"Hi, how was school? I heard you were getting a new teacher today." You say, watch as the kids strip off they're coats and hang them up.
"It's was fine. The teacher is definitely different." Emmet says, and walks off to do his own things.
"She stinks if you ask me." Rosalie says, smirking at some hidden joke you don't understand. But Jasper chuckles.
You're about to ask why when you notice.
"Where's Edward?" You asks, looking around confused. The three kids in the room stop what they're doing. No one makes eye contact.
As panic starts to set in, you ask again. "Where's Edward?"
Alice is the first to speak up. "He had a problem with a new girl at school. He almost lost control today, so he left."
Sadness overwhelms you. Thinking about how Edward must feel, almost loosing himself, feeling the need to run.
"Where did be go?" You ask, but you're met with no answer. No one knew where he went.
A tear rolls down your cheek. You wipe it away. Rosalie hugs you, and you hold her tight not wanting to loose another kid.
Eventually you let her go, feeling calmer than a minute ago. You know Jasper's the reason for your calmness. You thank him and he nods. Rosalie and him head into the next room, leaving you with Alice.
She doesn't waste a second, hugging you. When she does, you smell something, you gag. But then something strong hits your senses. And all you can do is smile.
"Who's the wolf?" You ask, Pulling away from Alice. still smiling.
"Our new teacher. She's nice, once you get past the smell." Alice says, Then she spaces out. You of course know what’s happening. You wait for her vision to end, hoping it's a good one.
When Alice focuses again, she says "oh" and smirks at you. "You should probably go to the school to tell the principal, Edward won't be back for awhile." She winks and leaves.
(Y/n)'s POV
You stand and the copier in the school office prints out permission slips for an upcoming school trip, drinking your fourth cup of coffee this morning.
You were up all night going over everything from yesterday. Vampires. Imprinting. Imprinting on a Vampire. Oh god your head hurts.
The nice lady at the front desk starts up a conversation while you wait for the copier to be done. Town gossip, who's who. The usual. There's always someone like her, everywhere you go, every new life you live.
She's in the middle of talking about her son, a senior here, when the door to the office opens. While she deals with whoever it is that walk in a turn back to my task at hand.
"Hello, I'm here to inform you, my son, Edward Cullen. Won't be able to attend school for awhile. He has family matters out of town."
You overhear and freeze. You drop your thankfully empty mug. It doesn't break but it does make a loud enough sound that you're sure both women in the room are now looking at you. You bend down to pick it up, muttering a 'Sorry'.
As you grab it, you glance up at the two women in the room. And your eyes meet golden brown ones, the feeling from yesterday comes rushing back full force. It takes everything in you not to growl. You tear your eyes away, and turn around again. You grip the copier until your knuckles turn white. You want nothing more than too hold her and never let her go. You can't focus on the conversation still happening behind you.
A beep on the copier signals it's done, you pick up the stack of papers. Taking a deep breath and turning around, you notice the conversations coming to close so you linger, waiting. You wait until she leaving before making your way out of the office too.
She knows you were waiting. It's clear in her eyes when she glances over at you before turning towards the door. Your feet move on they're own, following her. You'd follow her anywhere.
She holds the door open for you. "Thank you." You say, entering into the empty Hall.
"Not a problem." She says, entering right behind you. and you almost trip over your own feet. She grabs your arm before you fall flat on your face. The stack of paper's slipping from your grip and scattering all over the floor.
She bends down and starts picking them up, you drop to your knees as well. "I'm sorry, I'm normally not so clumsy." You apologize, sweeping the paper into a messy pile.
"It's alright dear, we all have are moments." She says, handing me all the papers she collected. You take them, saying "Thank you." You look up catching her staring. You blush, you want nothing more than to look anywhere else, but you can't pry your eyes away.
She seems to be having the same problem. She's smiling at me, it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Finally she stands up, holding her hand out to help me up. You scoop all the papers into one arm and take her hand. She pulls you up until your standing, a little too close together to be appropriate if caught by a student or teacher. You don't move away, and neither does she.
"Esme Cullen, and you are?" She says, still holding onto your hand. Something your both aware of, and still make no move to correct it.
"Its nice to meet you, Miss Cullen. I'm (Y/f/n). You say, giving her.. Esme a sweet smile.
Her own smile widens, showing her sharp teeth. You would have thought you'd feel threatened, but you aren’t. in fact, you're calmer right now than you've been in awhile. You bite your lip.
"Please, call me Esme." Esme says, staring at your mouth. You blush again, Esme breaking eye contact helps you get control of yourself again. you take one step away from her, just far enough to keep the conversation going without anyone being curious about the close proximity.
You clear your throat, before responding. "Okay Esme, as long as you call me (Y/n)."
"Of course. (Y/n)." Esme says, smiling again. You go weak hearing her say your name. And by the look she's giving you, she knows it.
Suddenly you remember. It's first period. You need to get back to your class room. You glance at the clock on the hall. Esme follows your eye, she frowns at the time.
You look back at her to tell her you have to go, but she takes a step forward, smiling. She leans into your ear and whispers. "I'll be see you soon, goodbye (Y/n)." She press a soft kiss to your cheek then steps back, turns and walking down the hall.
You just lean against the lockers for a little bit until you can't see her anymore. You sigh, and think to yourself
'She'll be the death of me.'
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Fantasy-[AU]: Just a dream
☾ Pairing: Sawamura Daichi x reader
☾ Warning: fluff, slightly angst, mention of blood
☾ Genre: Fantasy-[AU] Werewolf
☾ Words: 3.980
☾ This fic is part of a server collab. The masterlist can be found here
Summary: Vampires and werewolves don’t exist. But what would you do if you had a beast standing in front of you, with fangs as big as your hand? Will you believe your eyes, realize that these creatures exist and live among you? Or is it all just a dream that will give you a restless night? You have to decide.
“Damn it!” you curse loudly, realizing that you’ve overslept. In the moment, you jump out of bed, put your shoe on and throw your bag around your shoulder to run to school. On the way you try to eat your bread before you arrive at the schoolyard.
Miki your friend, wrote to you this morning that you are in another class today because your teacher is sick. Where was that again? You ask yourself absent-mindededly while searching for your phone in your pocket.
Just as you get your hands on a small, thin, square object, trying to fish it out, you feel yourself running into a person and losing your balance. You land on the floor, the contents of your bag spilling out.
“Ouch…” you mumble to yourself, rubbing your forehead. Feeling like you’ve run into a tree instead of a person, you raise your head apologetically and look up.
“Oh God, I’m really so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention!” you try to apologize, back straightening up to look up when the man in front of you turns around and looks at you with a smile as beautiful as the sun's rays.
“It’s okay, it can happen to anyone. Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?” He asks you smiling, as he reaches out his hand to help you regain your footing. “Y...Yeah, I’m all right.” you stutter and scratch the back of your head. For a moment he looks at you with his head tilted to the side before he laughs.
Irritated, you look up at him with a puzzled expression. “You must have overslept?” He asks, embarrassment evident on your face, and before you can ask him how he knows, he keeps talking.
“May I?” He adds and raises his hand up to your cheek. Yet gently strokes your cheek with his thumb and dislodging the remnants of your breakfast. Oh no, how embarrassing, you think and feel your face getting warmer.
“Wait, I’ll help you pick up your stuff.” he says quietly and squats down. Nervously you move your hands back and forth, wanting him to stand back up. He chuckles kindly and picks up the books that fell out of your bag one by one.
You too squat down to quickly take the books from his hand and then pick up the little things, such as your pencil case and your key.
Sighing, you stand up and for a few seconds, you look at each other in silence. You don’t know why, but somehow you feel warm and you think your pulse has gone up a bit.
You’re sure the man in front of you is barely older than you, yet you’ve never seen him here before. “You're new here?” you blurt out, breaking the silence.
“No, I’ve been here since my first year of high school, and I’m now in my last year before the next trip goes on. I’m in Block A1. If you’re in another block, then we probably just haven’t crossed paths yet.” Embarrassed, he scratches the back of his head and squeezes his eyes shut.
So he’s in Block A. No wonder you’ve never seen him. “Block A? Wow, it’s just the elite students in there, isn’t it? I’m in Block D. Your classes are time-shifted to ours, right?” Curious and enthusiastic, you look at him with big eyes.
“Yes that’s right. Our class starts an hour later than yours.” he answers a little surprised that you know so much about the A block. “But speaking of class, don’t you have to go to class now?” he adds as he looks at his cell phone.
“Damn!” Lessons have already started and you don’t even know which class you have to go to. “I am so sorry! I really have to go. It was nice to meet you, student from Block A. Maybe I’ll see you again, or maybe not because you have a different schedule. Anyway, thank you again!”
Chaotically, the words come out of your mouth when you say goodbye to him with a wave, before wandering off to find your class.
He chuckles when he looks after you as you move clumsily back and forth as a small sparkling silver object catches his attention. It’s a thin bracelet with a small round object in the middle, it looks almost like a moon.
“Hey wait! You lost something!” He’s trying to call you, but you’re already gone.
Once in your class, you just can’t get that friendly face out of your head. You’d love to know who this man from Block A is. But you should probably erase him from your mind, because he shouldn’t have crossed your path. After all, he belongs to the elite.
However, you can’t focus on the lessons all the time, and you don’t notice that your bracelet is missing eather.
The loud ringing of the school bell can be heard when you pack your bag and finally leave the classroom.
Outside the hall is filled with students, jostling each other to get towards the exit with their black uniforms, wanting to enjoy their afternoon off. You too want to get out in the fresh air, when your legs come to a halt, hearing your name called.
Looking at who called you, you turn around with big eyes.The student from Block A. You just want to ask him what he is doing here, since he would actually still have lessons now, but he answers the question before you can ask it.
“I snuck out of the classroom… You lost your bracelet earlier, and when I tried to give it back to you, you weren’t there anymore.” The corners of his mouth go up as he stretches out his hand and puts the little silver object in yours.
Although his smile is warm like a beautiful summer day, his hand is cold like snow. “T-Thank you!” You stutter and look up at him; his hazelnut eyes put a spell on you and you fall silent again.
“You don’t have to thank me for that.” Like this morning, his words are just pleasant. But he may have gotten himself into trouble with his actions earlier. “How can I thank you? You snuck out of class because of me.” Embarrassed, you fold your hands together.
In the hallway are no more students, no chattering, no laughing, just you two and the silence.
“You could tell me your name.”, “L/n Y/n!” it comes out of you quickly. Frightened by yourself, you put your hands in front of your mouth and look to the side, but the man in front of you puts his hands on your wrists and presses them down softly.
Just a few seconds later, you feel his index finger grazing your chin and making you look at him with little pressure. “That’s a really pretty name. It suits you. I’m Sawamura Daichi, by the way.”
Normally, you’d give every man a slap if he gets this close to you, but it’s different with him. Again, you feel yourself getting warmer and you just can’t look away from his shining eyes.
“Are you free tonight?” Hesitantly, these words come out of him. The only thing your body allows you to do is nod.
“Then I’ll pick you up at the park at six?” For a brief moment, you feel relief in his voice as he takes a step back and looks out the window. Again, you nod as your conversation is interrupted by a creaking door.
“Oh damn, I have to go back to my class. See you tonight L/n Y/n!” His cold hand finds its way to your shoulder as he whispers the words to you quietly and quickly disappears in a walkway.
“See you tonight… Sawamura Daichi…” You whisper softly to yourself as you bring the bracelet to your chest.
The clatter of the hangers echoes loudly through your room as you try to put together the perfect outfit for tonight. You don’t really know Sawamura yet, but you still want to look pretty for him. Maybe it’s best if you just put on your favorite outfit, because that’s where you feel most comfortable.
With a quick look outside, you make sure what the weather is like. The windows are slightly fogged at the edges, and although it is just about to get dark, the moon shines in all its glory. Large and bright is the celestial body, so large that you can almost see the craters with the bare eye.
In the end, you decide to put on a coat and lock the door behind you. Excitement spreads in your body as you step closer to the park. Does Sawamura see this as a date, or had he just invited you on a date out of pity?
After all, he is an elite student and in his class are certainly other beauties, which he could easily wrap around his finger.
Through a flower-filled archway, you enter the park. The white moon stands out from the black sky. In the park there are few people yet, hardly anyone talks, everything is quiet. Only the rustle of the leaves, and the beautiful sound of a nightingale echoes through the park.
Your anticipation is so great that your hands start to tremble and your heartbeat rings up to your ears. As agreed with Sawamura, you wait for him in the middle of the park, on a bench lit by a small yellowish lantern.
Time goes by, the people who have filled the almost empty park with a little bit of life, pass by you one by one and find their way out. The second time, you hear the bell of the bell tower, which near the park reminds everyone that it is already eight o'clock in the evening.
Your hands are still shaking, not with joy, but with cold.
Another hour, you wait for Sawamura. In vain, because you can sense he’s not coming anymore. Probably, it was all just a stupid joke from him and he’s sitting at home in the warm and looking out the window just to make fun of your stupidity.
Depressed, you get up and find your way to the exit. To change your mood to something else, you kick a rock the way to your home. You do this until you arrive in the small forest, which is really frightening for you at night.
One last time you kick the stone with a lot of power into the forest and watch it roll. But it does not manage to roll until the end, yet it is stopped by a shoe.
Frightened, you turn your gaze away from the small round object and look upwards to a large, powerfully built man with black hair and a nasty smirk. His hands are relaxed in his coat pockets and as you step back, he slowly comes towards you.
Several times you blink and even rub your eyes, You can’t believe what is in front of you. Because the eyes of the man are not normal, instead they glow blood red.
“Oi, Oi sweet little kitten. Where are you trying to go?” His wet breath is felt on your neck when you turn around full of fear. How is it possible that this man who was standing in front of you earlier is behind you now?
“What? How? That’s impossible! Who... What are you?” With your words you lose your voice and reflexively try to run away from the man. But you can’t do it, because his arm has already wrapped around your waist and your body lands with force against his chest.
“Are you telling me you don’t know who I am? Maybe this will help your memory.” Grinning, he brushes your hair behind your shoulder and exposes your neck.
“Let go of me, you disgusting pervert!” You shout and try to kick him, but your body freezes to ice as you see what’s behind his grin. Pointed fangs that shine in the moonlight.
“That’s impossible…” Silently your lips shape these words as your eyes fill with warm tears. There are no such things as vampires, so what’s happening here?
“Ah, ah… Why do you look so sad? You know, I saw you with one of those disgusting dogs today. What’s a pretty woman like you doing with a mangy mutt?” What is this man talking about? You wonder in confusion.
You’re still trying to tear yourself away from him, but he’s just too strong for you. “Huh? You don’t want to answer me, then we stop the small talk and I can start drinking your sweet blood…”
Bored, he shrugs his shoulders and while you can only give a desperate “No!”, you can already feel his cold teeth slowly landing on your skin. Tears flow down your cheek as you squint your eyes and wait for all this to disappear as if it was a bad dream.
As if someone heard you, the teeth that wanted to pierce your flesh are no longer on your neck, and his grip on your waist is now gone.
A loud roaring is heard and in the blink of an eye, you see how the large, powerfully built man is torn away and pushed to the ground by a huge being. A wolf… No, it’s way too big for a wolf. If that man over there is a vampire, is that a werewolf? This can only be a bad dream.
These two figures fight against each other and shed much blood. This animal, which has pulled the man away from you, bleeds heavily and breathes hard. But the Vampire-like man is not doing well either. He has open wounds and in the end decides to take the form of a bat and fly past your head.
“Ah!” you scream, stumbling backwards, and land on your butt. That scream makes that wolf take notice and turn in your direction.
Breathing heavily, the being stands before you, the mouth wide, large sharp teeth, the paws huge, so big that they could cut down a tree. And the eyes amber, friendly, loving and beautiful. Eyes you’ve seen before.
“Daichi?” You whisper softly and reach out your hand to the face of the beast. On your touch, the animal makes an excruciating sound and looks at you one last time before it disappears. You’re sure it must be Sawamura.
“Daichi!” Your voice is loud in the forest when you call his name another time and get up to follow the blood traces.
Needle foliage beneath your feet feathers your footsteps. The only thing left to hear now are a few branches breaking in two under your shoe. Trembling, you stop at a tree, hands on the rough, damp tree bark.
You breathe deep, as you hear a murmur not far from you. The noises are getting louder as you discover a small hut and walk towards it with hesitant steps.
The roof of the hut is already full of holes. The wooden paneling moldy and windows smashed or completely missing. There’s a huge hole in the wall, where there used to be a door.
Your whole body is still shaking and even though your head tells you there may be danger in the hut, your body feels drawn there. “Daichi?” You whisper so softly that you hardly understand it yourself.
“Daichi?” Even if your voice now resounds loudly through the musty air, you can hear the fear in it. “G- Go… a- away.” Tormented, breathing heavily and very slowly, his words come to you from a back corner.
This is definitely Sawamura’s voice, you think, as your steps get faster and find their way to him. You squeeze your eyes together and try to get used to the darkness to see the person or the thing in front of you.
It won’t take long before you can recognize him. Sawamura, not that beast... that wolf a few minutes ago.
Ashamed he looks aside, his hand on his wound on his belly. But when you call his name again and carefully bend over to him, he turns his gaze on you. His beautiful brown eyes, looking for the attention of yours.
Reflexively, you want to stretch your hands forward, take care of his wound. But his piercing, warning voice makes you stop in your movement.
“No! Leave that Y/n! Don’t touch me! Go away! Leave me alone!” Groaning, he’s trying to move away from you. “Your blood... It attracts me.” he adds with heavy breath. But you don’t let his words stop you and take off your jacket to press it against his wound.
You don’t care if he hurts you, because you can’t just leave him here in a moldy hut. “We have to get you up, you need a doctor or you’re gonna bleed out Daichi.” You sniff anxiously and press the now damp fabric of your jacket even harder against his belly.
Your hands are cold, they tremble with worry, but your eyes fill with a warm liquid that slowly runs down your cheeks. “Hey, please stop crying Y/n.” Sawamura tries to calm you down with a suddenly so peaceful voice.
His cool hand rests on yours and tries to suppress their trembling. Suddenly you look from the wound up into his eyes. Why is he so quiet? Is he about to die?
“Sawa-” You try to say, but Sawamura interrupts you shaking his head with his index finger on his mouth. You quickly fall silent and look at him for a moment.
It is so quiet that you would probably even hear the falling dust as soon as it hit the ground.
“Put your coat away,” he says quietly and gently raises your hand away from his body. “Look, it’s almost all right.” He adds to his sentence and raises his shirt a little bit up so you can see the wound. Or at least what’s left of it. Because where the thick red color came out earlier, there is now only a scar to be seen. No blood, no wound.
“Sawa- what? How is that possible? You bled so much earlier.” You mumble to yourself in disbelief as you dodge to the back. “You have seen my true form. You have seen that I am not a real man, that I am a beast.” He stands up and reaches out his hand to help you up.
“Werewolves have a very good healing power, but more importantly, why did you come here? Why did you follow me? Please don’t be so wide-eyed, I could have hurt you.” He puts his hands on your shoulders and makes you look at him.
Werewolves? Vampires? Healing powers? What is going on? You have so many questions and so much you don’t understand, but the only question that comes out of you is why Sawamura stood you up.
His hands slide down your shoulders with his mouth open. “I’m sorry, I forgot there’s a full moon today. I’ve been standing by the window watching you. I must say, it hurt in my chest to see you sitting so sad on the bench. But I couldn’t risk you seeing me as such an ugly creature... hurting you. But when you went out of the park and wanted to go into the woods, I had taken the smell of a vampire. I was just playing it safe and following you because I was afraid he was gonna do something to you. And then when I saw you in the woods with that guy about to drink your blood against your will, I got angry and I had to turn into that thing. I had to protect you. I’m sorry the evening wasn’t as planned.”
Even if he sounds sad, you can’t help laughing. “Sawamura Daichi, you’re a very interesting man. Then let’s set up a new date, and we’ll do it on a day when there’s no full moon. I don’t care if you are a werewolf, a dog or a human. You are you and this person is interesting and loving.”
Smiling, you squeeze his hands and look at him in silence. With a nod, he responds to the pressure and looks at you thankfully. “That sounds good Y/n. Is it okay if I take you home?” He smiles with embarrassment and looks out of the hut, into the sky filled with stars.
“Yes,” it comes out quietly from you, while you leave this musty place with easy steps.
The cold touches your skin and makes you get goose bumps. Sawamura has your coat in his hand because he wanted to take it home and wash it for you. Right now you opt to take your hands and rub your arms warm when the soft cotton fabric of a heavy jacket lands on your shoulders.
Questioningly, you look up at Sawamura, who just looks at you with a loving smile. “I don’t want you to get sick.” He grins, and squeezes the jacket against you even more, as he then lets go of you and only accompanies you home in his T-shirt.
Up to your front door, you two keep silent. Even on your doorstep, neither of you talk. “Please come in, have some tea and warm yourself up before you go home, Daichi. Please…” you’re trying to enjoy his presence for a few more minutes.
First he hesitates, but then accepts your offer gratefully.
However, you do not even make it to the tea. Because you make yourself comfortable on your couch and not even more than a minute has been enough that your eyes have become heavier and you have fallen asleep on Sawamura’s shoulder.
With a sad smile, his fingertips caress your hair. “Good night, Y/n.” he whispers, barely audible, and tries to stand up carefully so as not to wake you. Before your upper body can land on the soft fabric of your couch, Sawamura lifts you up and looks around your apartment for the bedroom.
After he has found it, he turns on the light, still with you in his arms. He lays you down in your bed carefully and as quietly as possible. His jacket, which hangs loosely over your shoulders, falls to the ground and lands on his feet. With a slight growl he lifts it up and sits down next to you.
With his extra weight, the bed creaks but you don’t wake up.
Sad, almost troubled, he looks at you for several minutes as he caresses your cheek. “I’m sorry Y/n, but you have to forget all this. You and I should never have found each other.” He whispers softly and raises his hand, which was lying on your cheek earlier.
Stretched out over your face, he erases all your memories of today.
“Good night Y/n.” He whispers one last time and gives you a loving kiss on the forehead before he gets up.
One last time he looks into your beautiful, peacefully sleeping face as he looks down on his jacket in his hand. He knows he had to erase all your memories, but do you really have to forget him completely?
It’s wrong, but quietly he folds his jacket together and puts it gently on your nightstand, then leaves your bedroom and your apartment.
With a slight headache, you get up and rub your tired eyes.
You had a really weird dream. Even if… the dream felt so real…
“A really weird dream…” You mumble to yourself as your gaze wanders through your room and ends up with a black jacket that seems unknown to you but at the same time also very familiar.
Was it really just a dream?
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When life catches up
Ch.1
Summary: Y/n works for ncis but her old life cates up with her even though she always try’s to run away from it. Will the team realize something’s up?
Pairing: Gibbs x reader
Y/n came in to the office it was already 12 o’clock which means she was really late for work.
The elevator opened the doors and she prepared her self for a slap on the head or a long lecture that she shouldn’t be late for work. She dreaded being scolded but knew something would come her way. One way or another.
She actually would have been on time, well more than on time she normally would be one and ahalf hours early. She learn with time that being early in the office when almost no one was there made her more productive from the get go. But this morning everything was different. 
Time skip
Her alarm rang at 6.15 am. She got up made her way to the kitchen and turned her Coffee machine on. While the coffee run through she started her routine in the bathroom. She made her way back to the kitchen after apply mascara and lipgloss. She had to have her first coffee of the day or she would go mental. Taking her first sip the world already started to look a little brighter. Making her way to her closet cup in hand y/n searched for a blouse and suit pants. After assembling a cute but professional outfit she put the rest of the coffee in her to go cup and  search for her keys and took her bag and went out of her apartment. By now it already was 7.30 am. She drove down to her favorite bakery for her morning Croissant. After a small chat  with the owner Margaret a older woman Y/n made her way to the office. 
On the road someone repeatedly was trying to get her on the phone. At the first two time she tried to ignore the call but when the person on the other and wouldn’t stop calling Y/n decided to stop on the side of the road to take the call. “Special Agent Y/n Y/l/n” she tried to sound as professional as possible but she was rather irritated. “Hey Y/n it’s me Craig” she already know it couldn’t be anything good. Craig and her worked together in the fbi 5 years ago. “Something happened that I can’t discussed on the phone. We have to meet as soon as possible” she tried to get away from the fbi. She moved to another state, quit her job at the fbi and got a new job at ncis where everyone was more like a family. Not everything had to have clearance. Nothing is a big conspiracy. It’s easier. But now her old life catches up with her. “I have time now where should we meet”
Time skip
She made her way to her desk. Putting her bag down. And looking around the office for Gibbs. “Where is Gibbs?” “He is down with Abby” Dinozzo stated. “Everything okay Y/n?” McGee asked real concern lysing has my voice. “ yeah everything is okay Tim. I just overslept.” She smiled trying to make her lie more real. In this Moment she was thankful a part of her job was lying to others even when goes you’re lying to are your friends. “So light night yesterday y/l/n? You met someone special?” Dinozzo asked. You only rolled your eyes at him. Bevor you could say something back to him Gibbs came over to his desk. He didn’t say anything at first but then he asked you to follow him and you knew it would be one of his famous one on one talks in the elevator.
When the doors closed and the elevator started moving he flipped the switch and you both were stuck. The red light went on and he turned facing you. “Where were you this morning?” She demanded with his marine voice. Non of them knew what you did in the fbi only Vance knew some of it but not even he had the right clearance. “Something came up this morning... it was urgent.” Y/n hated lying to does that are closest to her, but there was nothing she could do. She had to protect them. They didn’t deserve to get tangled up in her problems. “Everything is fine now. I promise it won’t happen again.” She knew she wouldn’t believe her but she also knew he wouldn’t demand getting answers from her. He only turned back around his back facing her. A smal tear running down her cheek. The elevator started moving again an both of them went back to there desk. Working as if nothing happens this morning.
Hope you liked it. Let me know if you want a second part. Request are still open
love x
#gibbs x reader#gibbs imagine#ncis gibbs#reader insert#ncis#tim mcgee#anthony dinozzo#fbi#fanfic#leroy jethro gibbs x reader#jethro gibbs x reader#leroy jethro gibbs#reader
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Trash to Treasure - Eisuke Ichinomiya x reader
Chapter 3
Chapter 1 2 4
It felt like days since I had first arrived in the fancy room yet the ticking clock on the wall said otherwise. The bodyguard was busy typing away on a laptop with furrowed brows. He would spare a glance at me every now and again but otherwise his sight stayed glued to the screen.
In the few hours I had been here two other men had shown up. The tense atmosphere didnt hold up for long with them around as they greeted me in the least serious way possible and joked around with each other while introducing themselves.
"Sor, I didnt think I'd ever find you alone with a pretty lady like this," the one in a red jacket said while nudging him slightly before turning to me. "You can call me Baba, pretty lady," he beamed with a wink. He was definitely a strange man and I didnt hesitate to move away slightly as I eyed him suspiciously. The small gesture of discomfort caused the other man to laugh at Baba as he pouted in rejection. However, it didnt take him long to recover and move closer to me.
"So what do you see in Sor then?" he questioned me while wiggling my eyebrows. Thankfully, I didnt have to reply before Sor dragged him away from me and out of the room with the other man. I couldn't help but silently thank whatever god sent him my way to save me from the situation. Eventually the Sor guy returned alone thankfully and the silence from before the clowns came had returned as well.
More time ticked by yet before I knew it the familiar sound of the elevator opening filled the room and out sauntered a familiar face. My hopes were high as my heart began to pound before I remembered my random, crazy act before and realised this most likely wasn't going to go well. The good thing is that he didnt have a lawyer with him so maybe I wasnt going to end up in prison.
Sor finally looked up to Eisuke who pulled out his phone as he made his way to the sofa. "Come to the lounge and bring Mamoru," he ordered before ending the call without wasting a second of his precious time. He continued over to the raven haired male who showed him his laptop screen. Eisuke's eyes swiftly scanned whatever was on the screen before looking at me. Oh boy.
Just as I gulped and anxiety flooded me, the two clowns from before returned with a sleepy looking man who I'm assuming is the Mamoru that Eisuke ordered to come here. They all sat on the sofas as I felt the breath from my lungs leave. Why did Eisuke want so many people here? Maybe they were his legal team which would mean I was in deep trouble.
The thought made my hands clammy. All I wanted was to carry out my mothers will yet the day just couldn't go as planned and here I was surrounded by men who would most likely change my life. Its moments like this where i would go to my mother for support, comfort and advice but none of it was on the table anymore and I was alone in this world. Eisuke wasnt pleaded in the slightest at me just standing outside his hotel so imagining how he would respond to me acting like a wacko lady and causing a scene sent a shiver down my spine.
As I continued dreading the potential future that was going to be thrown my way they talked among themselves. Even if I was paying attention their voices were hushed enough that it would have been loud enough for me to hear; not that I wanted to hear it though.
"So you're mother is (mother name)?" Eisuke's voice pulls me from my dark thoughts. After processing his question I nodded hesitantly.
"You knew her?" I asked. It didnt click that Eisuke would have known my mother and I didnt really know anyone else who knew her so he would be the first person who I could talk to about her.
"Knew?" he questioned.
Before I could talk, I felt like a pile of bricks had been dropped on me. I hadn't said it out loud yet. I bit my lip as my eyes stung from the familiar heat of tears. I blinked them back as I questioned if I wanted to say it. It was real if I said it. I spent days feeling numb on my own before throwing myself into finding Eisuke so I never got to come to terms with the cold, hard truth.
"She... died," I mumbled back in response. Those two words not only confirmed that she was gone but also dragged a dull atmosphere into the room as a short silence followed suit. My heart ached and I could sense the look of pity on one or two of the mens faces and I hated it so for my sake I tried to move the conversation on.
I took a deep breath to soothe myself and forced the tears back before speaking. "That's why I wanted to talk to you, Mr Ichinomiya," I said as I turned toward him. His brows knitted together in thought as I awkwardly waited in response.
After what felt like the longest few seconds he finally turned towards the other men. "Her safety is to take top priority. Get ready for the meeting for when I'm back," he ordered as he got up and walked towards me. "You, with me," he barked and left before I could respond.
"Where are we going?" I asked but followed anyway despite knowing our destination like a loyal dog.
"Your room. My girlfriend should stay in my penthouse after all," he replied but the answer only fueled my confusion.
"I dont have a room here, I cant afford it. Plus what do I have to do with your girlfriend?" I quizzed yet was only greeted with silence. I turned to the others and noticed the clowns laughing at my confusion. Was it that obvious? I thought over the phrase before it clicked.
"Wait, you mean me?! I'm the girlfriend?" His only response was silence as I was practically running after him to catch up with his long, quick strides. Cold much. After chasing after him we finally arrived in a lounge that felt a little more homely yet still as sophisticated as the room I was in prior.
"Y-you didnt... answer... me back there," I huffed out of breath.
"I shouldn't ask questions you already know the answer to. You'll be staying in the guest room. Dont leave the penthouse without my permission. If you leave then I trust you know what trouble will be waiting for you and if I call you better answer immediately."
"You dont even have my number," I said confused, however, my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.
"The only replied I should get from you are yes and okay," he half scolded while putting his phone away and nodding his head in the direction of a door. "That's your room."
Without another word he turned on his heel and went back the way we came. That was short and quick. My brain was baffled by the past week's events. I felt foolish for expecting answers as I stood in the lounge all on my own.
Sighing I turned around and walked towards what would be my new room. None of this sat right with me but it was what my mother wanted so I had no choice but to go through with it and trust that she knew what she was doing when she sent me Eisuke's way even if Eisuke was a bit of a dick.
I closed the door to the room behind me as I scanned over the room. It was as elegant as every other room in the hotel but one thing stuck out to me; my things. Why were they here and how? I shuffled through everything to confirm it was mine and after doing so I stared in shock.
Did he do this in the time I was sat with that bodyguard? How would he have been able to find my address then transport it all here? The bad feeling in my gut only worsened as I felt things were going to go downhill with me knowing these people. Not to mention the fact that he's keeping me here and I didnt even have a say in it. The pile of bricks from before hit me ten times harder as I tried to hold onto faith that my mother would keep me from harm's way.
I sat on the bed as the darkness of the night consumed me just like my thoughts did. Surely I was safe, right? Mother would never put me on harm's way. I continued to try and justify what was happening and before I knew it my eyes were opening to the harsh rays of the sun. I guess I fell asleep at some point last night.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as everything came flooding back to me while my gaze wandered around the room, focusing on my things that mysteriously appeared here. As I pulled my body out of bed I noticed the view of Tokyo. The view was breathtaking and looked like something I would never be able to afford even if I saved up five lifetimes. I felt like I was in a trance as I soaked in the modern scenery and ant sized people.
A knock from the door echoed through the otherwise silent room. I turned as the door swung open to reveal a maid in a blue uniform dress that bowed down to me slightly. "Good afternoon Miss L/n. It's time for your appointments. I've been requested to show you to them," she stated as she raised her head to me.
"Appointments? Afternoon?" I seriously overslept.
"Yes. Mr Ichinomiya is waiting for you. He's a busy man as you know. We must hurry," she replied while eyeing my day old, wrinkled clothing. I'm guessing these wont do for his standards.
As I scurried to the bathroom to get dress I wondered about the appointments the maid was going on about. I dont remember being told about any but yesterday is kind of a blur but I did remember him telling me that leaving him waiting would lead to trouble for me so I hurried along and reappeared in front of the maid.
"Ready? We must be quick," the maid said, leaving the room before I could even answer. Do I get a say with anyone in this hotel or am I just a doormat?
We soon arrived in front of an empty boutique. I turned to the maid with a quizzical look but all she did was stand by the door gesturing for me to go in. Eyeing the empty shop suspiciously, I pushed the clean glass door open and looked around in curiosity before my gaze landed on the one and only Eisuke Ichinomiya.
"You're late," he scolded. His brows were furrowed as he looked down at me in disapproval. "Try these on," he ordered. He jerked his head in the direction of several tracks of dresses as confusion took over me slightly.
"Which ones?"
He scoffed in return and as I looked at him I just managed to see him roll his eyes at me. Wasnt he supposed to be my boyfriend? Does he not know that definition of boyfriend or is this how he treats every woman?
"All of them obviously."
My jaw almost dropped in shock as I stared at all the dresses. He wanted me to try all of them on? This was going to be a long day and it was already way into the afternoon.
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Breakfast
Chapter VI
When you woke up the next morning, for a few seconds you couldn't understand where you were. The place was new for you, and your sleepy brain failed to process the surroundings. But once you came to your senses, you felt a rapturous uplift in your soul. Recalling your yesterday agreement with Professor Snape, you started up, frightened you've overslept, but luckily it left enough time. The dim light fighting its way through the water barely gave any understanding about the time of the day, although it was clear the sun has risen already. You leisurely walked up to the window, peering into the depth. What you've expected to see there – you couldn't answer, but definitely not that Giant Squid, oh Merlin's pants!!! You jumped back, pressing your heart back into your chest.
How many more surprises were there waiting for you? However, this sudden occurrence stirred you up – the remnants of slumber vanished in a blink.
Dressed up and ready to take everything this day has prepared for you, you fidgeted on the edge of your bed, hypnotizing the clock and counting minutes remained before you'd face your standoff colleague. It was unbearable to continue sitting idly by, so you stood up resolutely and strolled through your room back and forth, throwing wary glances at the window, specifically, trying to spot the creature you've just seen on the other side – you won’t let it take you aback again – and shuddered, recalling its long fleshy arms with huge suckers.
You decided it wouldn't hurt if you left a little earlier. The cool air of the corridor breathed on your skin when you opened the door, and your body answered this sudden contact with goosebumps.
“Ugh,” arms crossed on your chest, you rubbed your shoulders to chase them away.
Looking around, you couldn't find a living soul within eyeshot. But as far as the passageway offered you a plenty of statues lined up along its walls, you didn’t see it as a problem. The flickering torch light stroke the figures, revealing their shapes, and the shadows jumping on stone faces added frightfulness to their appearance, which – combined with inhospitable darkness of the dungeons – created a distinctive mood to the whole ambiance.
Absorbed into studying the surroundings, you didn’t hear the steps and flinched, once tall black figure swept out of the dark.
“Oh, that’s you!” you giggled and sighed with relief. “Good morning!”
“Who on Earth could it be at such an early hour…” he made a pause, slowly approaching you, “...while I’ve been the only one who dwelled in these dungeons… till recent time.”
“You did?”
“I thought it was obvious, taking into account that I accompanied you exactly to this place last night,” the man invited you into a move with a step forward and a gesture of his hand.
“Sure. How witless of me to assume you’d walk me here just out of kindness!” you sneered and he pursed his lips in response.
“My chambers lay in the end of the passage. Not that I'd like to see you at my door…” he clarified calmly, “unless it's something urgent.”
“Don't worry, Professor, I won't stalk you,” you reassured him jokingly, regaining the understanding this sarcastic manner of his was a usual thing and shouldn’t be taken as offence, “unless it's something urgent.”
The way you talked to him, intrigued Snape’s mind. He was not the one who’d grow with sympathy for anyone that fast, but you clearly would have a chance… in other circumstances… in other surrounding… in other life…
“I saw a squid today,” you spoke as you went upstairs. “A huge one! It scared me to death!”
“It’s harmless,” the man beside you answered indifferently.
“I thought they inhabited salty water?”
“Right, but this one’s of a different – magical – subspecies,” he explained softly.
“I see…” you fell silent for a moment. “Don’t you mind it swimming around?”
“Do I look like I would?” Snape arched an eyebrow astonished, and you laughed. This time you could say for sure – there was (!) a barely perceptible smile in the corner of his mouth.
The reason why Professor Snape volunteered to take you for breakfast remained inexplicable for you, because the Great Hall located – as it turned out – right off the Entrance Hall, where the narrow spiral staircase brought you. Did he really consider you unable to navigate a corridor? However, he was a nice man, no doubt, but why would he pretend otherwise?
You walked past four long rows of old wooden tables appended by same long rows of shabby benches on their both sides each and headed for another long table at the front of the Hall.
“Where are the rest?” you inquired seeing there was no one else here.
“Not long in coming,” Snape took his regular seat, and you joined him.
“May I ask?”
“You did it already.”
“It’s not just rumors about the return of… You-Know-Who, isn’t it? Why would there be such a fuss around the Stone then?”
“Rumors do not appear out of nowhere – there must be a reason, clearly,” he agreed in a soft yet impassive manner of his.
“Do you think there is a chance of him getting the Stone? I mean… breaking in the school and everything which follows with it?” you couldn’t deny this possibility made you feel uneasy.
“I usually tend to be prepared for the worst outcome,” Snape admitted, filling his plate.
“Sounds encouraging…” you sighed, and he answered your sarcastic remark with a teasing “you’re welcome.” Both of you realized the matter was no joke. As long as the Stone remained within school walls, it was responsibility of each staff member, and you were no exception.
“G-g-good m-morning, P-p-prof-f-fessors,” a pale young man in lilac turban interfered your conversation.
“Good morning, Professor Quirrell,” you greeted your colleague, while the other Professor sitting beside you just ignored his presence.
“You m-may c-c-call me Q-q-quirinus,” he bowed with an amiable smile.
Professor Snape, who was busy with chewing his meat, stopped working his jaws – a piece of food bulging from behind his cheek – and reluctantly continued his meal once uninvited guest made himself comfortable on the chair next to yours.
“So you’re teaching Defense Against Dark Arts? I loved this subject being a student,” you decided that starting acquaintance with professional questions would be the right thing.
“I was t-t-teaching M-muggle St-t-tudies b-before I t-took a year-l-long s-sab-batical,” he clarified.
“Oh, and what have you been doing the whole year?”
“G-gaining f-f-first-hand exp-p-perience, you kn-now.”
“That’s praiseworthy!” you approved. “And which kind of experience?”
“W-well, d-d-different…” he focused on his plate.
“What did you find the most exciting then?” you were eager to find out something new.
“M-m-many things,” the man’s head almost disappeared in his shoulders, as he vigorously cut the leaf of salad.
“So many you can’t even name at least one, Quirrell?” Professor Snape snapped scornfully.
“It m-might t-t-take l-long,” he explained away.
Meanwhile your other colleagues joined in. Each of them tried to talk to you, depriving you of any opportunity to put something edible in your mouth. Although Professor Snape sat beside, withdrawn in his own thoughts he didn’t seem to be interested in this conversation.
You carefully shoved your elbow closer to him and slightly pushed his forearm. The look he gave you was pure astonishment. With an askew glance you pointed at your plate where a word ‘HELP’ was put out of corn grains. Snape’s lips twitched in an attempt to suppress a grin, and he stifled with a strange smothered sound which broke through his nostrils.
“Now that you’re finished,” he addressed you intentionally louder than usual, drawing everyone’s attention, “I think it’s high time to discuss the issue of supplying my storages with ingredients, as we’ve agreed.” With these words Professor Snape rose up to his feet and remained standing behind your chair, waiting for you to do the same.
“Yes, sure,” you hurriedly put the napkin on the table and followed suit.
“Pity you’re leaving so soon,” sighed a squat little witch, “I wanted to show you Herbology Greenhouses, I thought you’d like to see them.”
“Of course I would! I’ll join you later,” you replied kindly. “Thank you, Professor Sprout!”
<<< Previous Capter • Next Chapter >>>
Tag: @diaryofafan17 @yul-is-sparkling @fullmoonshadowwrites @forthehonourof
#snape#severus snape#snape x reader#severus snape x reader#snape fanfiction#severus snape fanfiction
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Could you do something with Caesar reacting to Joseph being stuffed or vice versa? I absolutely love your writing!
Oh my gosh yes of course! Thank you so much <3
---
Leave it to Joseph to be late to their training session, actually, where was Joseph? Caesar figured he must’ve overslept... Time to go and bang on his door until he got up. “Joseph! Wake up... You’re late again. I told you, you can’t do this!” he continued to knock to which he heard an uncomfortable groan from inside. “Wait, are you ok? You don’t sound so good....” Caesar’s voice was filled with concerned, maybe he should just open the door. Twisting the doorknob he realized the door had been locked. “Joseph! Joseph!” he continued knocking, if anything he was going to break the door down if he didn’t hear anything soon. “W-wait!” Joseph protested, “Don’t come in here!” “Why?” Caesar’s concern went away not feeling annoyed thinking Joseph was just pretending now to get out of training. He heard Joseph groaning once more, “Ugh... L-listen, I think I ate something bad so...” his voice trailed off. “Liar.” Caesar didn’t believe a slacker like Joseph. “I’m going in there.”
“No! Don’t!” Joseph would rush over to the door if he could, but he was much too stuffed to move. Had he attempted to get up now, Joseph would just end up rolling off the bed. He groaned again, rubbing his belly trying to soothe it since it felt so full and uncomfortable. That’s what he got for deciding to fill up on so much pasta and soda, but he couldn’t help it. All this training actually made him want to eat more but yesterday he might have overdone it. It was probably the pizza he ordered along with the pasta. He could hear his stomach gurgling trying to break down everything Joseph had stuffed it with earlier.
“Too late.” Caesar kicked the door in, only to find Joseph who had been struggling to try to reach for the blanket to cover up his belly that had been protruding from under his crop top. “Damn it! Caesar! Don’t come any closer...! Something weird’s happened to me!” Joseph thought this was believable with all this hamon stuff maybe he could say it backfired and that’s why his belly looked like this, but the empty pizza box, soda bottles, and containers told Caesar another story. “Tch.” Caesar shook his head, although his eyes seemed to keep looking back at Joseph’s belly who gave up trying to hide it any more. “You ate too much didn’t you?” Caesar went over to the empty containers picking them up and putting them into the trash where they belong. “N-no! What makes you say tha--URRRP!” right on cue his belly gave him away.
While the temptation to scold Joseph had been strong, he couldn’t take his eyes off the Joseph’s belly. It was actually pretty impressive, he didn’t know why he felt a little embarrassed all of a sudden. He figured maybe this just wasn’t a position he would want to find himself in, it shouldn’t surprise him that an American like Joseph would pig out so much. Maybe it was better to leave Joseph alone for now, he went back towards the doorway. “Caesar! Don’t tell a--UURP--anyone about this... Please...” at this point Joseph was too embarrassed to look at Caesar, “Don’t worry. I won’t let embarrass you as long as you keep taking your training seriously. Oh, and next time you do something like this? Invite me too.” he said this casually before leaving. Did Joseph hear correctly? “Wait, what did you say? Caesar.... CAESAR!! Come back!!” now Joseph was thinking about stuffing himself next time with Caesar too, why would he want to do that? Was it some sort of competition? Then, he won’t lose! “... If that’s the case, I gotta order more food to be ready for next time!” although Joseph’s stomach groaned in protest it seemed Joseph was ready for more food.
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Strangers ch. 34
Yoongi finds your phone– and so does someone else...
Pairing: Yoongi x (female) Reader
Word count: 1.8k
Genre: fluff, angst
|mlist|
<–– Prev Next ––>
You force a laugh. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t lie to me, y/n,” Yoongi says softly, his voice a knife in your back. “These– Jesus.” He exhales sharply as your phone buzzes again, again, again. You would’ve turned your notifications off months ago, but you need Twitter for your jobs. “How long has it been like this?”
@satanhasaholdoffrance: hey @yourname make like a tree and die
@queenynuwu: I hope y/n knows we love her!! <3 @yourname
@gummyyoongi: has anyone found @yourname‘s address yet?
“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply stubbornly. You don’t want your weight on Yoongi’s shoulders, not when you know he’ll blame himself.
“Bullshit. You said this wasn’t happening! You told me that my fans weren’t coming after you.”
“And you never checked,” you reply, your throat tight. “You know what I am. I’m a liar. And you trusted me– that’s your mistake.”
Yoongi flinches. “I know you don’t mean that.”
You begin trembling, your hands and arms and shoulders tensing against your will. “You shouldn’t trust me, Yoongi.” I’ve kept too many secrets from you.
“Well, I do trust you. I know you too well, y/n, and you don’t mean that. But this?” He taps your phone. “This is messed up.”
You take a step back, shrinking into yourself. “I-I’m sorry.”
“What? No. Why are you apologizing?” Yoongi gets up and walks towards you, his eyes intense. “My fans– the stuff they’re saying– that’s what’s messed up. And y/n, I’m so, so sorry this happened. You don’t deserve it.”
“I, uh...” you mumble, confused. Why isn’t he angry at you? You lied to him, again and again and again. “Sorry...”
Yoongi sighs, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “What are you even apologizing for?”
“I don’t know!” You cry. “I thought you’d be mad at me!”
“I’m not mad at you, y/n-ie.” Yoongi raises his arm and brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face. “I’m just worried. The comments you’re getting, the haters... they’re too much for anyone.”
Your mind drifts to the nightmares, the thoughts that your hate comments have inspired within you.
Yoongi’s gaze darkens, but he’s not looking at you– he’s staring far off, at something beyond. “I’ve seen idols, trainees– friends– that internalized those things, and they didn’t see an escape... no one is equipped to deal with this shit alone, no one.” Yoongi swallows, and his voice wavers. “So don’t try, y/n. You’re not alone, and I can’t lose you.”
You blink hard before drawing back and punching Yoongi in the arm.
“Ow!” Yoongi yelps, rubbing his arm. “What the hell?”
“That’s for being dramatic,” you say, using all your willpower to keep your voice light. “And this–” you poke him in the ribs– “is for being selfish. I don’t wanna lose me either, nerd. It’s not all about you.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Yoongi laughs. “My bad, I almost forgot that you’re a force to be reckoned with.”
“Just don’t let it happen again,” you sniff haughtily.
“I won’t, promise. Hey, do you need a lift to your next job?”
“Nah, I’ll take the bus. I’m not famous like you,” you reply. Besides, you want to be alone with your thoughts.
“Suit yourself. I have to go to the studio anyways.”
“Another BTS comeback already?” You muse, and Yoongi winks.
“Nope.”
~~~
Once Yoongi leaves, you wriggle into another sweater and shrug your coat on over it. You can’t help but feel chilly lately, and you can’t afford to get a cold.
You leave your apartment building and quickly walk towards the bus stop. Your afternoon will be spent on a photoshoot for a new makeup line, and Lisa said you’d be able to keep some of the merchandise.
You adjust your face mask and pop in your earphones, your mind a whirling dervish of thoughts. You imagined Yoongi would be furious– after all, you’d promised no more secrets. You couldn’t help but keep your Twitter mess to yourself, because you didn’t want your friend to stress about it.
Friend... the word seems strange to you, almost wrong.
Well, we’re ‘dating’ now, you think, so I guess he’s my fake-boyfriend instead.
It’s weird; for years you were completely in love with Yoongi, besotted with his face and voice and laugh and lyrics. His shy, goofy nature. His irresistible charm. You remember when you and Lisa would scream together at every new music video, each concept photo, any hint or clue or theory. It seems so long ago now.
Speaking of Lisa... your phone begins buzzing with a call from your manager/friend.
“Y/n, darling, how are you doing? How’s the leg?”
“All healed up now,” you reply, flexing and unflexing your left leg. You lost a lot of blood, but your injury missed all the arteries and important stuff.
“Great. Hey, I lined up a job, it’s yours for the taking if you’re interested. They need an extra in a cologne commercial, it should only be a two-day shoot and we can plan around Moon Over The Sea. What do you think?”
“Yeah, sounds good,” you murmur absentmindedly. “How much does it pay?”
“Pretty well, your cut would be only a little less than you’re making on the makeup shoot today.”
“Alright, sign me up.”
“Great. And... how’s it going with Yoongi?”
You jolt. “What?”
“C’mon, y/n, you can’t expect me not to ask. You’re dating your idol!”
“I-I’m not, really...”
“Oh, shush. It’s official, isn’t it? BigHit confirmed it last week. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were together!”
You grit your teeth– you have to tell her the truth. “Lisa, seriously, it’s not real.”
“I know, I bet it totally feels like a fairy tale, huh? I’m so jealous.” Lisa’s voice gets quieter, pouty. “We have to hang out soon, it’s been ages since we’ve had a proper gossip sesh!”
“But...”
“No buts! I’m ordering you as your manager to hang out with your best friend... who is also your manager... who is also me.”
You can’t help but laugh. “Yes ma’am, just pencil me in.”
“Will do! See you soon.”
“See ya.
Humming to yourself, you continue your bus ride, arriving at the studio a few minutes early. A fashionable young man strides up to you bearing shorts and a shirt.
“Ah, you’re here. L/n y/n, right? Perfect, perfect, put these on and we’ll get you straight into hair and makeup.”
“Uhh...” you examine the outfit he gave you. “Are you sure this is for me?”
“Of course I am, what are you talking about?”
“It’s black, these shorts are made of leather, and...” you trail off, gulping. “It’s all very tight.” That’s right, clothes like these will only hug the curves you don’t have. You’re not a sex icon like some of the female idols you’ve seen Yoongi with on TV. You know as someone in the entertainment industry, you’re supposed to be fashionable– but you’re too much a fan of oversized sweaters and soft pants to let them go. “I don’t know if this outfit suits me.”
“Nonsense, you’re beautiful– you just need the confidence! Besides, you’re gonna have to get used to this type of stuff if you want to get anywhere in your career,” the man chuckles. “Changing room is over there. When you’re ready, head to hair and makeup.”
“R-right,” you mumble, taking the clothes. They look so cold, you shiver just thinking about putting them on.
Ten minutes later, you stare at yourself in the mirror. Staring back at you seems to be a child, a little girl who doesn’t belong, who can barely fill out the tight crop top or shorts. And you’re supposed to be dating Yoongi? You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. Yoongi deserves better, someone prettier, smarter, who looks like they belong at his side. In your mind’s eye, you can see Yoongi next to you in the mirror– black-haired, a brow raised, his mouth quirking upwards in a lazy smirk. He looks like a prince, a god, and you look like you’re playing dress-up next to him. No wonder so many people are upset; you’re doing Yoongi no favors by being with him.
You sigh and shake your head. You’re cold, so cold, and you hate it. You turn away from the mirror to get your hair and makeup done.
“Okay, can you give me a little lip bite? Something cheeky? Oh, perfect! Yes, hold like that!” The camera flashes while you sit frozen in place. “Cross your legs now, hold the lipstick closer to your face... can you give me bedroom eyes?”
Face flushed, you lower your lashes and pout your lips like you’ve seen real models do, and the camera flashes again and again. The lipstick you’ve got on is a brighter red than you’ve ever dared to wear, and combined with the outfit and your bold eyeliner, you look a little edgy.
“Great, y/n, you’re doing wonderfully. We need one more photo for the spread...” the photographer looks around the photo studio, which is a rather minimalist set. “Can someone get me that chair? Y/n, sit on it backwards and try for a smirk– like an ‘I’m-better-than-you’ face.”
But I’m not. Still you try, channeling your inner Seokjin as you fix the camera with your best downward stare, and then half smiling as though you’ve got a secret– which you do, too many to count. Half a dozen shots later, you’re dismissed with the promise that the money will be wired to your account by Friday.
The next morning, you wake up to the familiar buzzing of your notifications, again and again and again. You haven’t overslept, have you? No, your clock informs you that it’s not even six AM. You groan and flip your phone over to read your new mentions.
@beautyoftheseoul: Check out our new line of matte lipsticks, modeled by #MoonOverTheSea’s @yourname!
@chimyoongles: Omg @2460sunshine did you see that @yourname liked a yoongi thirst tweet? Lmaooo I’m dying she’s rly all of us
@scarletwitchisjunghoseok: I think I love @yourname now that she’s exposed herself as an army lololol
@captainkookie21: why are ppl stanning @yourname for her fuckup lol it just goes to show what a liar and a slut she is.
You blink sleepily. You liked a tweet about Yoongi? You’ve been careful about doing that ever since you became a public figure, in case Yoongi noticed. You tap through your likes and gasp:
@slutfordionysus: rt if you want Suga to crush you between his thighs, like if you want him to use his tongue technology on you ;)
Oh, fuck. You never liked that. You’ve never even seen that tweet. Which means... you’ve been hacked?
#bts#bangtan#suga#yoongi#min yoongi#min suga#bts fluff#bts angst#bts drabble#bts au#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#yoongi drabble#yoongi au#suga fluff#suga angst#suga drabble#suga au#bts series#yoongi x reader#suga x reader#bts x reader#bts fic#yoongi fic#suga fic#bts fanfic#yoongi fanfic#suga fanfic#yoongi x you#suga x you
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Mainly Byler - Christmas
Dustin, Lucas, Nancy, Mike and Max all went to visit El, Jonathan and Will for Christmas. Mike had been exceptionally excited to see Will. You see, Mike realized when Will moved away that he loved him. To be honest, it had always been Will. He had just not realized. He was afraid of telling him. He tried to keep things the way they were - friends with Will and dating Eleven. But after a while all he could think about was Will. So he called El and broke up with her. He never told her the reason. She hung up on him before he could explain. He would have rather told her in person, because, well, its Mike. He never wanted to hurt her. But actually, he felt relieved. After a few days, he started to think about how he would tell Will - and if he should. He wasn't sure if Will liked boys - and if he did, would he even like him?
Eleven woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and scrambled eggs. Actually, neither of them was very fond of coffee. Will had been up early to prepare breakfast for El and him before everyone arrived. His stomach was filled with butterflies. He was so excited to see Mike again. To see his smile, his freckles, his beautiful brown eyes. Eleven, on the other hand, was still filled with anger after the incident a few months back. She actually never felt sad about what happened. Just pure anger. But she was excited to see everyone else. She sat down at their antique table Joyce had bought when they moved in and smiled at Will. They talked a little about how it was gonna be seeing them all again. They couldn’t wait.
Will saw a car pull up in the driveway from his bedroom window. Nancy was driving and next to her was Mike. Max, Lucas and Dustin sat in the backseat. You could see Max chuckling while jokingly hitting Lucas. He shook his head and smiled at her. Mike hurried to get his seatbelt off and got out of the car and knocked on the door. Nancy shouted that he should take his bags. He ignored her. He was way too excited to hug Will. Eleven opened the door with Will standing behind her. Will smiled from ear to ear when he saw him. “God he's beautiful,” Mike thought to himself. Will gently pushed Eleven to get to him. He hugged him tighter than he ever had hugged anyone. Eleven stared at them for a while before going into their little kitchen. The kitchen was connected with the living room, and even though it was small, it was cozy. Will loosened his grip on Mike and ran out to the car to greet the rest. He gave all four of them a group hug. Nancy asked him where Jonathan was but he just shrugged his shoulders. All of a sudden Jonathan came running out in his PJs and bare feet and embraced Nancy. “Sorry, I overslept”. Nancy grinned and kissed him on the lips. They all went inside and squeezed themself into the tiny couch in the living room. Mike seated himself next to Will. Will didn't mind, at all. To be honest, he was just as excited to see Mike as he was to see him. Will glanced at him multiple times before getting caught. Mike smiled at him. They all started catching up on what’s been going on. All of a sudden Joyce came through the door and Will hurries to hug his mother. She had been at her new job. She was a detective. Because of Hopper. She was self-employed. Her agency was called “detective Byers”. It was going quite well actually. They all said hi and Joyce smiled and went around to hug everyone.
It was now the night before Christmas. Everyone was settled in. They were in their PJs. They were all cuddled up on the couch watching “a Christmas story”. When they got sleepy Will had suggested that Mike stayed in his room to save some space. Mike hadn't thought anything of it, because they used to have sleepovers all the time back home in Hawkins. Everyone brushed their teeth and went to bed. Expect for Will and Mike. They were laying in Will’s big bed. The lights were still on. Mike was studying Will’s facial features. Will eventually noticed and crinkled his nose.
“Were you staring at me?” Will asked.
“U-Uhm, no,” he replied. All of a sudden Mike started crying.
Will looked at him with a wondering gaze. “Are you ok, Mike? What's wrong?”
“Yeah, I'm fine.” His voice cracked. “Or um, actually there's something I need to tell you. P-promise me. Please d-don't hate me”
“Why would I EVER hate you, Mike?” He was getting scared. What was wrong?
He stared blankly at the wall for a while before blurting out: “I think I’m gay”.
Will sighed relieved. “Really? Are you kidding?”
Mike started to tear up again. He thought Will hated him. “Okay, look, I shouldn't have told y-”
He got interrupted with Will embracing him. “I don't care, Mike,” he said quietly. He took Mike’s face in his hands. He stared deep into his beautiful eyes.
He smiled “R-really?”
“Of course.”
They lied down on his bed. Will wrapped his arms around Mike who was still crying. They both fell asleep quickly.
Mike woke up. He was still in Will’s arms. His cheeks got flushed. He just lied there for a moment. “FUCK!” He said with a small voice. Will stretched sleepily. Mike just remembered what happened last night. He had told him he was gay. He frowned. He gently woke up Will. Will was so excited that it was finally Christmas. He jumped up and down in the bed. Mike chuckled and threw a pillow at him. He calmed down and sat down next to Mike on the bed.
“Merry Christmas,” they said all at once. They smiled at each other. They looked down at Will’s carpeted floor.
Will broke the silence by asking: “Is it okay if you get your present now?”
“Sure?” Mike was confused. Why not wait until everyone was up?
Will got sweaty and nervous. Mike wondered what was going on. Last time he looked this anxious, he was possessed by the mind flayer.
“So, um. Mike.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m in love with you”
Mike just stared at him with a shocked expression.
“Please say something,” Will said uneasily.
Mike didn't know what to say. The boy he was in love with just told him he was in love with him too. Mike started to pull in for a kiss. Will was stunned. His eyes were wide open. Will didn't even know how to kiss, but Mike knew how. Mike gently pulled away after a minute or so. They were both panting.
“You- you l-like me?” Will stumbled over his words. He couldn't believe what had just happened.
“Of course I do, you idiot!” He smiled. “Why do you think I told you. You know, that I’m gay?” He let out a silent chuckle.
“Oh” Will said with a big smile on his face.
They started to laugh. Will got up on Mike’s lap and wrapped his legs around him. He pulled him in for another kiss. He never thought this would happen. He had never felt happier.
Lmao, I'm sorry, this sucks. I promise ill try to get better, haha. Thank you so much if you read this entire disaster :)) And ill work on punctations, I promise :)
#byler#byler is endgame#byler rights#christmas#stranger things#stranger things christmas#sorry it sucks
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