#CLOSEST THING I WILL EVER GET TO THE VISION IN MY HEAD BEFORE I READ BSD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dream-a-little-bigger-x · 1 year

Text

King of My Heart | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (I think it's pretty GN, lemme know if it's not!)

Warnings: Curse words, fluff!

Author's note: Remember the 'untitled Spencer fic' in my ideas poll? This is the one! If you have 20/20 vision (fy, honestly), you probably won't relate to this, but indulge me, please? Thank you. Sincerely, a glasses/contact lenses-wearing gal.

Words: 2K

Nursing my cup of coffee in the break room, I read through the case file JJ had given us. We had been working on it for three days straight and were still so far from a solution. It had been hard to think without any sleep for thirty-six hours. And the humid San Francisco air didn’t help me much either.

My eyes were as dry as a desert, making wearing contact lenses hurt like a bitch.

I harshly squeezed my eyes as I looked at the file, in hopes to get them some moisture. Of course I had forgotten to pack my glasses. Most of the time, I don’t even need them. Without them, I could just see about enough to stumble from the bathroom to any bed. But I couldn’t take them out while working.

“Hey,” the familiar voice of Spencer Reid captured my attention.

Spencer and I had hit it off quite quickly when I joined the BAU one and a half years after he had. Mostly because we were the closest in age and our similar interests had drawn us together as well as the fact I had spilt coffee over him the first time we met. Now, one year later, the two of us were pretty much inseparable. Even our supervisor, Aaron Hotchner, barely dared to split us up. Put the two of us together and we’d come up with the best theory for the case we were working on.

“Oh, hi, pretty boy,” I greeted back, smiling up at him with narrowed eyes.

He offered me one of the pastries he and JJ went to get before they came into the precinct. “Here. You need some sugar,” he told me and I gladly accepted the sugary good. Spencer took a seat opposite of me, delving into his own pastry.

“Oh, King of my heart,” I grumbled, enjoying the food a little too much.

“Did you find anything in that code yet?” he asked instead, ignoring my food-orgasm.

Shaking my head, I broke off a piece of the pastry and popped it into my mouth. “I thought it was the Caesar Shift first, but I can’t figure out what the shift would be…” I mumbled, furiously pressing my knuckle underneath my right eye.

When Spencer didn’t react to my mumblings, I looked up to find him rummaging through his satchel. I furrowed my brows as he procured a rectangle-shaped box and out came his glasses. Confusion rose within me as he offered them to me, which I believed was apparent on my face as he explained himself.

“Take out your contacts and put my glasses on,” he ordered in that honey-sweet voice he only ever used on me. “You’ve been squinting and blinking for about half an hour while going through that file and your eyes are bright red. So, unless you want to tell me you’re on drugs right now, take out your contacts and put these on.”

Hesitantly, I reached for the frames. “Spence, do we even have the same prescription?”

“You’re a -2 on both eyes, aren’t you?”

It surprised me a little that he knew that. More than it surprised me that he knew I was struggling. He was a profiler after all.

“That’s what I thought,” Spencer said and took another bite of the pastry in his hand, watching me to make sure I’d put the glasses on.

My eyes skidded from the glasses to Spencer and back. “I don’t have my little contact case with me here. It’s in the hotel.”

I shouldn’t be surprised when Spencer fished out a bottle of lens care solution and an exact replica of my contacts case, but somehow, I was. This guy kept on surprising me, no matter how well I thought I knew him.

“Now, take out your contacts and put my glasses on.”

Sometimes, Spencer would do these things, these tiny gestures that had my stomach fluttering in a way that a friend shouldn’t make you. It was often just him getting my coffee in the mornings or handing me a sweater when I shivered. He got me food before I even realized I was hungry or a glass of water before I realized I hadn’t even drank anything that day.

He was simply marvelous and it was merely impossible not to fall for him.

Once I had Spencer’s glasses on and looked at the code again, I finally deciphered it. Excitedly, I ran into the briefing room where Derek, Elle, Spencer and Hotch were gathered. I was too focused on explaining them the theory behind the code, that I had missed the exchange of glances between Derek and Elle until they voiced their thoughts.

“Are you wearing Reid’s glasses?” Morgan asked, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Yes, my contacts were hurting me, but that’s not the point–” I said before lapsing back into my explanation. There was no time to stand still to explain to them why I was wearing Spencer’s glasses nor did we have time for them to tease me about it.

Though it wasn’t until two days after the case that Elle eventually spoke to me about it. The team had decided to go for drinks at O’Keefe’s and Spencer had handed me the back-up sweater he kept in his satchel for me.

“So,” Elle started when she joined me at the bar to grab another drink. “When are you gonna admit you’re in love with him?”

Though my cheeks felt hot, I scoffed. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“You’re wearing his sweater,” she pointed out, bemused that I would even try and lie to her.

I shook my head. “No, this is my sweater… Which he evidently keeps in his bag for me because he knows I always forget it and I… just… like… how it smells –” I groaned, rolling my eyes while Elle let out a loud cackle. “Fine! Fine. Okay?” I sneered.

“Admit it.”

“I admit it, okay? I am… in love with Spencer – But how could I not?” I hissed at her before turning my head to look over at our table where Spencer, Hotch and Derek were laughing at something Penelope had said. “He keeps doing these… gestures… Like, the other day, I was struggling because my eyes were hurting so much and he just handed me his glasses. He remembered my prescription and knew I was struggling before I could even tell him.”

A smile landed on Elle’s lips as she nodded her head. “And he always brings you your coffee in the mornings.”

“You noticed that too?” Elle nodded her head in response. “See, I couldn’t not fall in love with him. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose,” I said between gritted teeth as though I was actually mad at Spencer for making me fall for him.

My coworker scoffed. “Almost like he’s in love with you, or something.” The sarcasm was dripping off her words, but I shook my head at her.

“No, he’s not. He’s just… nice like that.”

Glaring at me, Elle conveyed her message of, “Are you kidding me?” before the words actually left her mouth.

Her words haunted me for a good week before I finally dared to ask Spencer about it. Though it was more snapping at him rather than actually asking him. During one particular case, I was getting frustrated by the way he was treating me and the way it was making me feel, I let those feelings take the better of me.

For an entire day, I had been crabby and snapping at everyone who even dared to insinuate I was on my period. Of course, I was, inconveniently, on my period, but no man needed to tell me to calm down. Spencer must’ve noticed, because that night, he knocked on my hotel room door.

“Hi,” he greeted with a soft smile.

“Are you here to tell me I shouldn’t have been so snappy towards that captain? Because I know,” I told him immediately, not even giving him a ‘hi’ back.

He shook his head and held up a tub of ice cream and a hot water bottle. “I got these from the reception.”

Eyeing up the items in his hands, my insides went all mushy. But before I could allow myself to melt into putty, I groaned and turned on my heel, marching into the room and leaving the door open for Spencer to walk in. Confused, he followed behind me and closed the door behind him.

“Are you okay, y/n?”

“No! No, I’m not okay, Spencer.”

He looked at me and seemed so lost. There was no reason for me to snap at him, but I couldn’t handle it anymore. I couldn’t handle this ball of feelings sitting in my chest. It was bound to explode at some point and that point was now. All it took was for him to knock on my door with ice cream and a hot water bottle.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? What’d I do?”

After rubbing my hands across my face, I tangled them into my hair, debating whether or not to tell him the truth. “How do you expect me not to fall in love with you when you keep doing shit like this?!”

Spencer flinched slightly at the volume of my voice and the harshness of my words. Once it registered in that magnificent brain of his, he let out a chuckle. It surprised me a little that he found this so amusing. My anguish was amusing to him.

“Do you think it was easy for me to try and not fall in love with you when you spilt coffee on me the first time we met and you were dabbing my chest with napkins?”

The memory of meeting him in the coffee shop before either of us even knew we were going to be colleagues, flooded into my mind. I was nervous for my first day at the BAU when I smashed into him, coffee flying everywhere. He’d tried to calm me down, spewing facts about coffee and people wanting to outlaw it.

“Do you think it was easy for me not to fall in love with you when you asked me to go and watch that French film about the choir without subtitles? Or when you call me ‘pretty boy’? Or when you get all clingy when you’re drunk?” he scoffed, his eyes trained on me whilst my insides turned to mush.

“I’ve been trying to push these feelings away since we met at that coffee shop, y/n, but I realized that I couldn’t turn them off. I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with you because you are quite literally the person of my dreams and I wanna continue to take care of you and make sure you feel loved because that’s what you deserve.”

My eyes watered at his words, my brain registering that everything happening at that time was real and not a dream. As Spencer let out a relieved sigh, I knew that the waterfall of words coming out of him had been building up inside him until the dam finally broke.

He stood there, a few feet away from me, staring at me with those puppy-dog eyes that I could never really resist. His lips looked so kissable. An urge I had been able to keep at bay for a while, though it became harder and harder the longer I didn’t give in.

But right then and there, in a hotel room somewhere in Delaware, I had to give in.

Within three big strides, I was in front of him and grabbed his face, bringing his lips down to mine. The kiss surprised him a little, but he quickly melted into it and melted into me the same way I melted into him.

“The ice cream is melting,” Spencer mumbled against my lips and pecked a few short kisses to my mouth before grabbing my hand and guiding me towards the bed.

As he opened the tub of ice cream, I let out a groan. He had picked out my favorite; cookie dough. Though that didn’t surprise me anymore. “Ugh, King of my heart,” I scoffed with a delighted roll of my eyes before digging in with him.

And all at once, he was the once I had been waiting for.

King of my heart, body and soul.

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh

Criminal Minds Taglist: @boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #friends to lovers

315 notes · View notes

shybunnie20 · 11 months

Text

Eddie Munson x Alt!Fem!Reader

★Teaser ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie seeks Steve's assistance in wooing you, but it doesn’t go the way he planned.

Author's Note: This was so fun to write! I don’t think it turned out particularly angsty tbh. There's a little bit of Halloween in it, 'tis the season.

Proofread to an extent. 90s AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Reader is vaguely depicted: wears black, has tattoos and piercings (no amount or locations indicated for either), enjoys spooky movies, and likes metal music. Happy ending!

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol consumption, includes more swearing than usual

The sun hangs low, blowing kisses of dusk through the streaky panes of Family Video. Inside the store, the sporadic popping of kernels sets the tone for the evening shift.

When it comes to this job, unboxing shipments of snacks is the one task that manages to hold Eddie’s fleeting attention, simply because it gives him an excuse to wield a box cutter. Alas, today is not one where a shipment has been delivered. He’s more or less getting paid to hang out and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaning beside the register, Eddie lazily flips through a dated issue of Rolling Stone magazine. He’s not even reading the articles, just skimming the pictures.

In the documentary section, Steve is busy restocking the shelves. “I heard Keith’s giving out a plaque for 'Least Productive Employee' this year. If ya ask me, I think you’ve got Robin beat.”

“That’s debatable,” Eddie licks the pad of his finger and flips the page. “You’ve got it handled, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but there’s plenty of stuff that needs to get done before we get slammed tonight.”

“I’m doing my part,” Eddie raises his head and a smirk slowly overtakes his bored expression. “Someone’s gotta keep the front counter company. It gets lonely.”

“Aw, how touching. Of all things, you’ve found true love with a piece of furniture,” Steve scoops up the bucket of go-backs and sidesteps to the neighboring genre. “That’s gotta be the closest thing you’ve ever had to a relationship.”

Burn, but an accurate one. Eddie isn’t a Casanova but there’s nothing wrong with that, not at all. He’s got his hobbies and friends, what point is there in trying to convince the town that he’s up for a little romance? Besides, the absence of encounters means that flirting isn’t in his wheelhouse.

Eddie looks down at the face of his Casio, reading that it’s nearing seven o’clock. “Hey, do we still have a copy of Beetlejuice around?”

“I doubt it. All of the spooky shit has been going like hotcakes since Halloween is right around the corner.”

As customers trickle through the door, Eddie shifts to the computer system and types hurriedly on the keyboard. “Fuck, it’s gotta be here,” He abandons the register and searches the store.

Steve opens a case and snaps it closed, entirely oblivious to the commotion until Eddie whizzes by in his peripheral vision. “Okay, this is a whole new level of obnoxious,” Steve huffs. “Why are you so hell-bent on finding that specific movie?”

“Because she’s probably gonna wanna rent it, and if we don’t have it…” Eddie trails off as he flies by on the other side of the store.

“Cool your jets, turbo,” Steve notices that more people are coming into the store so he waves Eddie over. The last thing they need is a lawsuit because an old lady got plowed down. “Seriously, what gives?”

Wheezing at the end of the aisle, Eddie hunches over and bows his head. He grips his knees for dear life while he tries to catch his breath. “There’s this girl.”

Steve’s feathered brows mirror the nosey tone of his voice. “Who is it? Do I know her?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie coughs. “But she stops in every Friday night.”

“News flash, butthead. It’s the busiest day of the week, that’s not exactly narrowing it down,” Steve feels a creeping presence over his shoulder. Speaking of old ladies; he peeks, just to find an elderly woman encroaching on his personal space to view the titles that he’s blocking. “Sorry,” he says halfheartedly before directing his coworker toward the register with a toss of his head. “Is it Tara P.?”

“Nope,” Eddie follows and plops on the stool furthest from the computer. “She wears a lot of black, has tattoos, piercings-”

Steve shakes his index finger. “Okay, yeah, I know who you’re talking about now. She’s always dressed for a funeral,” He snorts.

“I know, isn’t it hot?” Eddie sighs dreamily while he tugs at his green coil key ring, stretching it as far as it’ll go.

“I mean, if you’re into that kinda thing,” Steve shudders dramatically. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“I’m definitely into that,” Eddie gnaws on the soft pink flesh of his lips as he pauses. “There’s this aura around her, y’know? Not just her looks either, it’s her energy too.”

“Dark and brooding, huh? That’s what gets ya going?” Steve switches to his customer service voice as he checks out the elderly woman with minimal back and forth.

“Yeah, whenever she’s around my hands get all sweaty,” Eddie looks down at his large palms that are growing slick from discussing you. “She hangs out at the bar where I play. God, just seeing her makes my heart sing.”

He loses himself in thinking about seeing you at Wraith. You’re the only one that he strives to impress but he has yet to. You dance to other bands but not Eddie’s. Sometimes you nod your head to the beat, though it’s never enough for you to acknowledge his existence.

“Pass me a barf bag,” Steve gags. “Makes your heart sing?”

“Whatever, dude. It’s not like you’re gettin’ any action with your Harrington charm.”

“Excuse you,” Steve looks at Eddie pointedly. “I almost got that girl’s number on Monday, thank you very much. She was totally digging me.”

“Was she, though? ‘Cause she left without giving you her digits,” Eddie chuckles mockingly and tilts his head. “How many more times do you have to strike out before you finally throw in the towel?”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who canoodles furniture,” Steve scoffs. “Don’t come for my manhood. At least I have the balls to make a move.”

“So many moves, and yet, so few takers!” Eddie throws his head back and laughs boisterously.

“Put a sock in it,” Steve groans.

Speak of the devil. Eddie spots you walking into the store, just as you always do at this time. “Oh god,” He gulps and his joints lock, freezing time and space simultaneously. His mouth is slightly agape as the world comes to a standstill. His vision narrows to a tunnel, rendering him deaf and mute.

Steve snaps his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. “Jesus, man. Try to act somewhat normal,” he rolls his eyes. “If you even know how.”

Eddie does not know how especially not after being literally snapped out of his trance. His palms are clammy, his breathing is rigid, and he’s dizzy as all hell. “Look at her,” He whispers. Christ, you look so fucking pretty today.

“Are you trying to catch flies, dude?”

“No,” Eddie scowls, promptly tightening his lax jaw. “Fuck off.”

Steve takes notice of your figure moving down the aisle and turning in their direction. “Duun dun,” he begins to imitate the Jaws shark theme. “Duuun dun,” As you approach from the other end of the store, Steve gets progressively louder. “Dun dun dun dun dun-”

“Quit!” Eddie barks through gritted teeth and kicks Steve’s calf. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Ow, that was uncalled for,” Steve bends over to rub his leg in an attempt to soothe the ache.

“Jesus Christ! She’s coming over here,” Eddie paces in the cramped area, nearly colliding with Steve when he pivots. “What the fuck do I do? I don’t know how to be Mr. Cool Guy.”

With your chosen film in hand, you are in fact approaching the register. Steve’s voice becomes discernible as you get nearer. “...if you keep acting like such a wuss. Grow a pair and just-”

“Shut up! Shut it,” Eddie makes it appear as though he’s doing something productive to the snack display, but he’s really just shifting the packets of Skittles around.

“Just this,” you confirm by setting down the tape and digging into your purse. The atmosphere feels tense, to say the least. You’ve clearly interrupted something. It’s plain to see on the other employee’s tomato-red face.

Steve offers a straight-lipped smile and scans your membership card. “Find everything alright?”

You hum in response. While he carries on with the transaction, you notice how peculiarly still the other guy is. “Hello,” you greet him softly, hoping to ease the atmosphere.

Eddie’s hands come to a halt and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “Heh,” He meant to say “hey” but only the first letter made it out alive. As you pay for your purchase, his mouth is still moving and he doesn’t know why. “That’s a good one,” he gestures to the movie.

You startle inwardly, not having anticipated an actual conversation to start. He seems nice enough. “You’re a fan of scary movies too, I take it?”

Eddie nods timidly. He flexes his fingers to combat the overwhelming numbness that’s plaguing his hands. His heart is beating so goddamn hard that it’s on the verge of bursting through his chest and landing wetly at his feet. “Yeah, I like them. They’re good. Really good.”

“Agreed,” While you tuck your wallet away, a polite smile rests on your face. “I was actually in the mood for Beetlejuice but it doesn’t look like you have it,” Your smile falls ever so slightly.

The sight causes Eddie’s pounding heart to twist and plummet to his ass. He’d give you every copy on the planet if he could.

Steve listens in over the sound of your receipt printing. His brows arch in genuine surprise that Eddie knew you’d want that movie tonight. Creepy, but impressive nonetheless. “Sorry about that,” Steve tears the paper from the machine and hands it to you. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” you nod, accept the receipt, and pick up the tape. “Have a good night,” you say to both of them and head out.

Once you’re through the doors, Eddie clutches Steve’s forearm to ground himself in reality.

“Ugh!” Steve yanks his arm away to escape the muggy grasp. “That’s gnarly, man.”

“Do you believe me now?” Eddie wipes his sopping palms on his jeans.

“Oh, I believe you, especially after witnessing that. I’m pretty sure Henderson has more game than you.”

Eddie returns to the stool with a plop. “Just kill me already,” he rubs his face, sighing. “Put me out of my fucking misery.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time,” Steve laughs to himself. “Anyway, back to Little Miss Dead Inside. What’ve you tried?”

“Nothing,” Eddie drops his hands and slouches in defeat. “I don’t think she even knows my name.”

“You gotta give her a reason to,” Steve continues conversing from over his shoulder while he checks out another customer. “What about notes? Y’know, old-fashioned love notes.”

Eddie scrunches his nose. “I dunno about that.”

“It’s right up your alley, Shakespeare. Besides, the ladies love melodramatic shit like that.”

Eddie suddenly perks up. “Wait, I could be totally anonymous! She could figure it out on her own. That way she comes to me and I don’t even have to approach her.”

“That’s not what I said at all.”

“This could totally work,” Eddie motions to Steve’s head. “Who woulda thought there’s a few marbles rollin’ around in there.”

“Ha-ha,” Steve continues to slowly but surely shorten the line. “Don’t think I’m helping you.”

“The hell you aren’t,” Eddie hops up on the counter beside the register. He swings his legs with newfound optimism and tears open a package of red vines. “You’re obligated to help since it’s your idea.”

“I absolutely am not, and I have no interest in being inadvertently bitten by some vampire chick. Leave me out of it.”

“C’mon, I’ll owe you big time,” Eddie begs with his mouth full of waxy candy.

“You have to clean the restroom for two weeks,” Steve declares with a smirk.

“No fucking shot,” Eddie points with a half-bitten licorice rope. “Pick something else.”

“Do you want help or not?”

Eddie did indeed want help, so he agreed to the bullshit terms and conditions. He can scrub a toilet, no problemo. Honestly, he’d polish a hundred of them with a toothbrush if that meant you’d step into his life. You’re worth cleaning toilets for.

After closing up shop for the night, Eddie sits at his desk in his bedroom until the early hours. He writes draft after draft, struggling to find words that are forward and inviting without coming on too strong right off the bat.

Upon your arrival the following week, Eddie is shaking like a leaf. He listens to your interaction with Steve while being partially concealed behind a tall cardboard cut-out. Despite not being able to see you, he can see your lips forming the words in his mind. Your voice alone is making him weak in the knees. Eddie’s certain that if you don’t hightail it out of here soon, they’ll buckle and his cover will be blown.

Once he’s certain you’ve left, Eddie releases the breath he’s been holding since you walked in. “How’d it go? She didn’t see you put the note in there, right?”

“Why are you even asking? You eavesdropped the whole time. Yeah, it went fine, she didn’t notice.” Steve grumbles.

“Okay, cool,” Eddie chews on his thumbnail. “Shit, what if she thinks it’s creepy? What if she thinks it’s the lamest thing ever? Fuck, what if-”

“Dude,” Steve closes his eyes and holds his hands out. “You’ve gotta stop.”

In the comfort of your home, you plop down in front of the VCR and open the case that holds the reels of this evening’s entertainment; a movie you’ve rented a few times before, but not enough that you could quote it. Instead of a hard plastic shell, your fingertips find wrinkled notebook paper. Your brows furrow as you inspect it, shredded pieces dangling from where it was yanked from the spiral binding.

You unfold it three times.

In the aisles of the video store, I've found a treasure unsurpassed. Not on the shelves, but in your eyes, I fell so fast.

It’s a prank, whatever the fuck this is.

Never in your life have you ever thought about Steve, like, at all. You’re aware of his reputation, that he apparently has the tendency to be douchey and arrogant. But the more you think about it, he’s nothing like that when you interact at Family Video. Maybe he’s not that judgmental and he sees past your midnight exterior. This note is stupidly genuine and endearing. Who would’ve thought he had it in him? Certainly not you.

That’s the thing, though. Steve isn’t your type and you’re certainly not his. But you can’t recall a time when he’s ever looked at you like you’re some kind of freak. Most guys do, that’s something you’ve grown used to over the years and learned to ignore. This poem basks him in a new light, and you’re not quite sure how to process it.

Like clockwork, you’re back again but this time your chest is thrumming. The note could’ve been a fluke or maybe it was meant for someone else, you’re not entirely sure. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be the intended recipient. Right now, it would be ideal to appear composed but you’re already wearing an unusual expression—a pleasant one—while you make your way to the drama section.

Tonight, it’s Robin and Eddie holding down the fort. As your combat boots scuff across the forest-colored carpet, Eddie can feel your arrival in his bones. He’s immediately seeking you out and when he locates you, he just about faints. Admiring from afar while manning the register, his mind races. Kissing is what’s on the curiosity menu tonight. Eddie wonders what flavor of toothpaste you prefer. If he could just get a little taste…

You meander your way around the shelving and through the dotting of customers. Eddie snaps his head in the opposite direction to avoid being caught staring. The sudden motion causes a pinch in his neck and he winces.

Lost in his own little world for a minute or two, Eddie’s attention is violently brought forward when you place a tape down in front of him. He buffers, noticing how you look subtly disappointed all of a sudden. He can’t imagine why, but he hates it with every cell in his body. Eddie fails to greet you and instead, he stares at your wine-painted fingernails as they tap the surface of the case.

“Is he not here?” You glance around with a lack of determination.

“Steve? Er, no. He called in sick,” He clears his throat harshly, all of the moisture drying up in his mouth by the millisecond.

“Oh, okay,” Over your other shoulder, you admire the new promotional display that was put out during the week.

Eddie seizes the opportunity to slip the second note into the case. His hands viscously tremble despite his best efforts to steady them. “Not to worry though, I can check you out way better than that walking hairdo,” Stop while you’re ahead, man. “Ring you up, I mean. I can ring you up better… than him.” Jesus fucking Christ.

“You’ve got quite the mane yourself,” A smile blooms as you look into the chocolate pools he has for irises. “I like your curls,” You can’t help but softly giggle at how bug-eyed he goes at your compliment.

“Uh, thanks,” Eddie bites back the cheek-splitter of a smile threatening to form. His trembling hands tingle unbearably from being able to make you laugh, despite not knowing what he did to earn it. He grabs a packet of M&Ms from the rack and slides it across the counter to you. “Here, free of charge.”

Your tightly sewn brow is accompanied by a slight pout. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense,” Eddie insists. “Everything’s on the house.”

“Is this some loyalty reward thing you guys do now?”

“Right on the money,” Eddie winks.

“Sweet,” you chirp. It’s as though your spirit has been replenished by saving a few bucks. “Do I get one of those little punch cards? I love those things.”

With the way your eyes are shimmering over a stupid piece of paper; Eddie would build you a house made of punch cards if that’s what you wanted. “Yeah,” he searches aimlessly. “But, uh, we haven’t gotten them yet.”

Your gaze finds his name tag and then returns to his flushed face. The corner of your mouth quirks as you notice the faint freckles dotted across his cheeks and nose. “Okay, well, thank you, Eddie.”

“No need to thank me, I should be thanking you! You’re a valued customer,” he exclaims. “My favorite of them all!”

“If you say so,” you exhale with amusement and turn to leave. “See you around.”

Eddie holds his palm open as a farewell gesture until you’re out of sight. He then brings his hand directly to his forehead in a ruthless smack. “You’re my favorite customer,” He mocks himself in a nasally voice.

With the press of a button, the register drawer launches open with a thunk. He nonchalantly retrieves his wallet, plucks out a five-dollar bill, and tucks it under the stainless steel clip to pay for your “free” movie and candy. Eddie finds Robin staring at him with a knowing look on her face. “Not a fucking word, Buckley. Not a word,” he glares, to which she throws her hands up in defense.

You couldn’t possibly wait until you got home to see if there would be another note. As you hop into the driver's seat of your car in the parking lot, you find an identical piece of folded paper. Your heart pitter-patters with the assumption that Eddie is in on it and he did Steve the favor of delivering this one for him.

With your illuminating smile, Baby Ghoul, you're the moonlight in my darkest night.

This note takes you by surprise for a different reason. It feels far more personal to be bestowed with the cutest goddamn nickname you’ve ever been given; ghouls are so metal. You obsessively reread it through the duration of your movie, while you brush your teeth, and as you lay in bed. You’re swooning over each messily penned letter, memorizing the spots where the ink drags and smudges.

It’s a bit difficult to imagine Steve saying this to you, but your insides are lurching at the thought. You hold the note to your chest and squeal.

The following visits are heavenly. Eddie loves seeing you bounce around on the balls of your feet like you’re on cloud nine. It’s becoming damn near impossible to fight the urge to smile because he knows that you’re looking forward to his imminent written affection.

Note after note, confidence simmers in his belly from seeing how the expression of his feelings is affecting you. To know that he’s the reason you’re glowing like this is turning his brain to pudding. Not tapioca, though. Ew.

With wide puppy dog eyes and a glossy lower lip, you present your past-due rental to Steve. He sucks his teeth, crosses his arms, and scolds you playfully. You successfully get out of paying the fee by simply batting your lashes at him.

Steve is eating this shit up. While you might not be his flavor of choice, he’s suddenly feeling open to sampling the femme fatale vibe. You’re beautiful, he wouldn’t waste his breath denying that. Not to mention, you’ve got a great sense of humor, considering you’re laughing at his awful jokes. That’s something he will admit—they’re bad.

Eddie doesn’t have to hear the conversation to know what’s unfolding. He feels like he’s gonna hurl when Steve leans down to shorten the distance between the two of you. He's supposed to be the middleman, not stealing Eddie’s thunder. In hindsight, there haven’t been any hints at his identity and Eddie’s been too chicken shit to give them to you except for the other day when he had no choice.

To put it simply, he’s torn. Eddie wants to scream that he’s your admirer, that he’s the one who dreams of you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t possibly reveal that it isn’t dashing Harrington who’s pining for you, but instead, it’s the dork. That would be a world-crushing level of disappointment.

This deal turned out to be a massive ego boost for Steve. The conversation is easygoing and it quickly progresses past small talk. The best part is that you haven’t even mentioned the notes. You think he’s some poet when in reality, he doesn’t even have a clue of what they say. You’re smitten without him having to bend over backward to impress you. He’d be nuts not to take advantage of it.

During closing time, Eddie stomps around while collecting the flimsy trash bags full of receipts and candy wrappers. For the past hour, he’s been pondering ways to “take care” of Steve. Sadly, it would be tricky to avoid raising suspicion if he suddenly disappeared, but hey, a guy can dream.

After dishing the silent treatment all night, Eddie finally speaks up. “You think you’re pretty clever, huh?”

“What?” Steve briefly looks up from counting the cash drawer.

“Cut the crap. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Eddie drags a clunky vacuum out of the cramped utility closet and unwraps the lengthy cord.

“It’s not that serious. Look, it’s not my fault that she’s into me.”

“Is all that hairspray finally soaking into your brain? She’s not into you,” Eddie growls, throwing the canary-colored cord to the carpet. “She likes the person who’s writing to her. Last I checked, that’s me.”

“Yeah, but she thinks it’s me,” Steve shrugs. “She’s happy, I’m happy. I don’t see a problem here.”

“The problem is that you know how I feel about her,” Eddie retorts while staring daggers. “The shit you’re pulling is really fucking unfair.”

“Life’s not fair, buddy. It’s not like you’re gonna do anything about it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Eddie mutters, clenching his jaw as he turns around to plug in the vacuum.

“Will we?” Steve snickers. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.”

It’s Saturday night and Eddie’s praying to every conceivable higher power that you’ll be here. You don’t come to Wraith every weekend, but when you do show, he’s nothing short of a nervous wreck.

He peeks out from behind the velvety black curtain of the concrete stage. Eddie’s heart stops when he finds you in your usual booth. You look hot, so so hot. It’s already hard enough to perform in front of you but when you look like this? Oh, brother.

Every year, you look forward to coming here on Halloween. Your friends have gone all out with their costumes and the hours you spent getting ready were well worth it. The typical dark and dingy ambiance is heightened by the plastic skulls and bones strung from the ceiling. Your drinks emit wisps of dry ice fog and each table has a bowl of candy.

Seated at the end of the booth, your eyes drift from your drink to the floor. There you find a pair of dirty white Reeboks. Your gaze travels up the lanky figure shrouded in navy coveralls.

Eddie twists his ring around the base of his finger and the glide is effortless, thanks to the premature perspiration. “Hey.”

“Uh, hi,” your expression reflects a mix of hesitance and confusion, though you maintain a kind demeanor. “Eddie, right?”

“Yeah,” She remembered my name. Eddie motions to your getup. “I like your costume. Elvira, right?”

While you may not be sporting a ceiling-high black wig, your costume is unmistakable. “Right on the money,” you flash a pert grin, quoting him from the other day. “And you’re a…”

“Supposed to be Michael Meyers,” he clarifies, pulling a plastic knife from his oversized back pocket. “The mask was too hot to wear so, I guess I’m a killer repairman?” Max’s borrowed mask was indeed suffocating.

“Or a plumber who secretly dreams of being a professional chef,” you shrug, your irises glistening with humor.

Okay, so far so good. Talking to himself in the mirror for an hour is really paying off because he’s not a bumbling idiot for once. He could be imagining things, but it looks like you’re leaning closer. Maybe you’re just trying to hear him better over the music. He shouldn’t be overanalyzing your body language but it's the only thing keeping him vertical.

Eddie wants to prove Steve wrong but most of all, he wants to tell you how incredible you are. He’s not sure that you’ll want to talk to him after this. You might be hurt when you realize that you’ve been misled and he’s not the one you want. There’s only one way to find out.

The sound of his band getting set up beckons him. “Show time,” Eddie shakes jazz hands with the toy knife still in his grip. Of course, he just had to make it weird.

While he’s playing through the usual set with Corroded Coffin, you don’t pay them any mind, per usual. Their final song is a new one. Eddie may lack the confidence to confess, but he’s gonna sing this with all of the moxy he’s got.

In this world of shadows, what else is there to do

Wanna explore life’s cemetery with you

Your haunting beauty tells no lie

The one thing I cannot defy

The familiarity of the lyrics floods your head. You look up and find his dark, gleaming eyes locked onto you. Your heart leaps in your throat as he repeats the verses. Eddie leaves no room for uncertainty, confirming that the lyrics are pulled from the notes you’ve received. The tone of his voice is raw and passionate as he sends his affection across the room.

As soon as he steps off stage, you’re on a mission to find him. He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find you beaming at him. Eddie finally allows himself to do the same, all the while blushing with exhaustion and anticipation.

“Hey, again,” you stare down at your shoes and scuff them against the floor. “You sounded great up there.”

“Yeah?” he swallows hard. “You liked it?”

Your eyes snap back up to his. “All of it, every single word.”

“I’ve got like half a notebook’s worth of stuff like that,” Eddie chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Is that weird?”

“Far from it,” you tilt your head toward the bar. “I’d love to hear what else you’ve got to say.”

Eddie hovers his hand over the small of your back to guide you through the crowd. “I’ll sweet talk you until the sun comes up, Baby Ghoul. Anything for you.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

Consider reading From Bar to Billboard, I worked really fucking hard on it 🖤

★My Masterlist

★Tip Jar

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

267 notes · View notes

shamelesslymkp · 2 years

Text

I don't think I posted about it here, but @thebibliosphere posted about binocular vision dysfunction again a few weeks ago and I decided on a whim to see if there were any specialists closer to me than the last time I checked a couple of years ago (at that time, closest evaluations were 3+ hour drives) and there IS and I had an appointment on the 21st to get evaluated and holy shit you guys.

My eyes are still definitely nearsighted and have astigmatisms, and the visual snow syndrome complicates matters, but there's also something really going on with how my eyes work together. Individually, each eye works fine (with the above caveats and corrective lenses), but when I try to use them at the same time they don't actually look at the same thing and my brain has to compensate for the difference.

This is how the doctor explained it:

My left eye is actually looking at a spot different than my right eye (left eye looks at the blue hollow star; right eye looks at the red hollow star) and then my brain compensates and comes up with the one image (purple filled-in star).

which isn't a lot of work for my brain and eyes to be doing! except it's doing it constantly. and has been doing it constantly for all of my waking 34 years of life, which is why the symptoms (vertigo, balance issues, tilted head, sudden unfocusing/focusing of eyes, closing one eye to read, etc.) have gotten so much worse over the last decade.

so the way they address binocular vision dysfunction is with prisms. micro-prisms, really. they aren't doing anything to my eyes or my brain, they're literally interfering with and adjusting the image my eyes are looking at before they ever get to my brain at all.

see?

AND I CAN WALK IN A STRAIGHT LINE WITHOUT THINKING ABOUT IT. MY HEAD IS UPRIGHT WITHOUT THINKING ABOUT IT. LIKE. HOLY SHIT. ALL OF YOU PEOPLE LIVE LIKE THIS. ALL OF THE TIME. WHY DID NO ONE EVER TELL ME.

#mkp has bvd #and is getting new glasses y'all

784 notes · View notes

snuggerudsz · 1 year

Text

YOU’RE LOSING ME l NH13

summary: nico is pulling away, and although you're desperately trying to hold on, you can't stop the two of you from falling apart at the seams.

pairing: nico hischier x fem!reader

author's note: hi!!! been trying to finish this for a few days, but i just couldn't write anything for the ending, so the end is kinda méh. anyways, i hope you enjoy! remember: likes and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated!!! thank you so much for reading!! <3333

You met Nico Hischier in the winter. It was freezing in New Jersey, but his warm hands and big brown eyes warmed you from the inside out. He was passionate, understanding, kind, and delightful. Nico Hischier was the closest to perfection anyone has ever been. Or, used to be, at least. Now, you felt like you hadn’t seen him in days, even if you lived in the same apartment. He was gone before you were up and came back home when you were already sound asleep. You couldn't pinpoint the moment everything went downhill, and Nico stopped being the perfect boyfriend he had always been, but it was slowly killing you.

You knew you’d eventually have to let Nico go. It was the hardest thing you’d have to do, so you didn’t. You ignored the hurt when he refused to spend time with you, or when he forgot date night, or when he stopped telling you to come to his games, or when he started to go out more and more, or when he stopped texting and calling you back, or when he seemingly stopped caring. But you couldn’t escape it forever, and, most importantly, you couldn’t keep fighting this battle alone, holding on to a dying relationship until your knuckles turned white. You were miserable, and you couldn’t live your whole life like this.

You took a deep breath, watching as the rain poured down through your windows. The raindrops echoed harshly on the roof of the building, bringing an unsettling feeling to weigh in your stomach. It was loud and anxiety-inducing. It made you want to disappear under the covers, cuddled up to your boyfriend.

The rain seemed to get louder with each passing second. Your head pounded and your vision was blurred. Another deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. It's just rain, you tried telling yourself.

Nights like these would have Nico holding you tightly and whispering sweet nothing into your ear until you fell asleep in his arms. If he was away, you knew you could always call him. Nico would always pick up after the second ring, even if he had been sleeping. And then they would sit there and talk, letting the darkness fade away until the nightmares were long gone, and all there was left in the world was the two of you. Until you could sleep through the night, thinking of the man who would always be there for him. But when, once again, Nico sends some half-assed excuse about missing date night because he’s going out with the boys for “team bonding”, you know you’re done. You were already reaching your breaking point and this might just have been the final blow. You take off the fancy dress, and the makeup and start packing.

Putting all of your clothes 一 or, most of them, at least, 一 is the most painful thing you’ve ever done. Especially, when all that’s left in your side of the closet are your favorite of Nico’s hoodies.

After packing all the most important stuff, you decide to get an uber. You’ll text Nico tomorrow and explain everything and then, you can come sometime later this week to get the rest of your stuff. Right now, you just need to leave peacefully. But you know it won’t be this easy when you hear the door open. You walk out, going to the living room, where Nico is just entering. He’s stumbling slightly and reeking of alcohol.

“Baby? Why are you still up?”

“I think we should break up.” You say, without looking at Nico.

“What?” He questions, suddenly sobered up by your statement.

“Nico, I love you. But this isn’t fair.” Anger sounds through your voice, while you continue, “I can’t keep trying to keep us afloat on my own anymore. I’m drowning.”

“Baby, where is this coming from?” Nico asks, with a shocked expression on his face.

“I can’t do this anymore, Nico.” Tears well up in your eyes as you speak, “This is fucking killing me. I love you in every possible way I can love someone, but you don’t even care. I’m hurt, and I’m so tired. I’m fucking exhausted, Nico.” You cry out.

“Why are you doing this?” Nico questions, again, incapable of wrapping his mind around you leaving.

“Because of you.” Bitterly, you answer, tears streaming down your face. “You pushed me away. I was here every single day, for you. And it tears me apart because you used to be mine. And I-”

“I’m yours,” He says, cutting you off desperately

“You were mine, Nico. And I was yours. I thought the world of you, I’d have done anything for you and now, you’re the one who hurts me the most. I just wanted you to be here. To try. To love me.”

That’s when it finally clicked. The words coming out of your mouth started to make sense and guilt started to eat away at Nico. How could he be so stupid? He wasn’t trying to push you away, but he also hadn’t done much to keep you around. He felt like a failure. He had allowed the one thing he always vowed wouldn’t be in the way of your relationship to do so and destroy what he cared about the most: You. And now, he was losing you. How had he not realized this before? How had he not seen this coming? How does he make it stop?

“I don’t wanna lose you,” Nico manages to choke out, fear suddenly consuming him, “I love you. You’re the most important person in my life, let me prove it to you, please. Just don’t go. Please,” He begs, “Give me a second chance. I’ll show you how much I need you. I’ll do better. I’ll be better,” Nico pleads, teary-eyed.

“I have to go, Nico.” You mutter, looking down to the ground

“No.” The man interrupted you, shaking his head and fighting tears, in denial, refusing to believe the words you were saying. “Please, stay” His watery eyes scanned your face, looking panicked, searching for anything he could hold on to.

“I can’t, Nico.” You answer, whispering, avoiding his eyes. “Not anymore. I don’t wanna lose you, but I can’t live like this forever.”

“You won’t have to. I promise I’ll be better, I’ll-” Nico tries to plead, pulling your hand into his.

“Nico, it’s over.” You interrupted him, too drained to keep discussing it any longer. And then he lets go of your hand.

He wasn’t ready.

He didn’t want to let go.

But he had no choice.

Still, he let you go.

#nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #nico hischier x you #nico hischier fic #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier

170 notes · View notes

deathmetalunicorn1 · 11 months

Note

Hi~ I just recently start watching record of ragnarok saw one of your post the other day! I really love your writing style! I want to make one request, if you okay with it.

I read the one post, an old post where reader is Shinobu and the ror cast arrive just in time to save her from being eaten by Douma... This is going to be a bit angsty, but can I request alternate one? They arrived but was too late and they watched as Douma absorbed reader into his body, her hand fall down to her side and her katana dropped to ground...

Not the ending! After they killed Douma, believing that the reader is death, his body turn into ashes and reveals reader, laying on the ground, alive but unconscious and extremely weaken. Practically just want them to get a huge scare

-You had spent years researching, looking at any piece of information you could find to deal with this, to deal with the Upper Moon that killed your sister.

-You finally had what you needed, what you wanted, the results you had been looking for, wisteria, incredibly poisonous to demons.

-However, getting it into the demons was another question entirely, coating weapons with it wasn’t enough to kill, only temporarily stun, at least with the stronger demons. Tengen and his wives were able to provide that information for you.

-The only thing that was coming to mind, at least for one specific demon, Douma, the only demon you were truly after, except for maybe Muzan, as you wanted revenge for your sister.

-You knew Douma, you knew how he would react to seeing you, and you knew it would involve your sacrifice to take him out, you knew he was going to eat you.

-You started small, injecting small amounts of wisteria poison into your body, so your body could get used to it without you feeling sick yourself, increasing the dosage over time, fusing your blood with wisteria.

-You told your closest loved one (Lover/Parental Figure) what you had been doing and what you planned on doing, showing them your determination to bring Douma down.

-They knew better than to push back, as they knew you wouldn’t listen, so they stood beside you, supporting this decision, with their own plan in mind, to help you kill Douma so you wouldn’t need to sacrifice yourself.

-The fight against Douma, they were late, rushing to get to you as soon as possible, to prevent your death, they didn’t want to lose you, not like this, not ever.

-He rushed into the room, seeing your broken and batter body in Douma’s grasp, a sadistic grin on his face, licking his lips like you were going to be the tastiest treat he ever tasted.

-Douma opened his maw and began to devour you, swallowing you whole as (Lover/Parental Figure) shouted out, “NO!!” your arm went limp, your sword falling from your grasp, not even hearing the shout as everything went back.

-Douma licked his lips, wiping his mouth as he had drooled a little before smirking at (Lover/Parental Figure), “You’re too late- I’m grateful for you letting me enjoy my meal~”

-Hearing his teasing words caused (Lover/Parental Figure) to see red as he charged forward.

-Douma had to admit, this opponent was much stronger, a smile of delight on his lips as he leapt back, dodging his weapon, “Did you love her? Does it make you furious that I ate her? Tell me- tell- URK!!”

-Douma suddenly coughed up blood, spurting from his mouth as he collapsed to his knees, his vision now hazy, feeling the burning from the inside out of wisteria. His eyes widened, realizing what you had done as he lurched again, coughing out more blood.

-(Lover/Parental Figure) immediately dashed forward, removing Douma’s head from his shoulders, remembering your words well, that to defeat a demon, the head had to be cut off.

-He stepped on Douma’s head, which was laughing loudly, thinking the situation was hysterical, and with just a bit of force, crushed the skull under his foot, causing him to dissolve into ash.

-He looked over at Douma’s body and he froze, his eyes going wide as his voice caught in his throat, seeing your body laying there as the ash vanished.

-You were breathing, but only barely, and you were unconscious, extremely weakened as he could see that you were covered in wounds, not only the ones he first saw you with when he entered, but new ones, caused by the poison inside Douma as he was trying to digest you.

-He remained by your side while you were taken to the infirmary, holding your hand as you seemed to sleep almost peacefully, just wanting you to wake up.

-As your eyes slid open, seeing him sitting there, not paying attention that you had woken up, you gave his hand a small squeeze, making him flinch and instantly his eyes met your own. You couldn’t help but smile softly up at him, seeing the relief on his face, “Is he gone?” he sighed deeply, his eyes closing in relief, “He is, thanks to your recklessness and I crushed his skull.” You were surprised by his words before tears welled easily in your eyes, slipping down the sides of your face, “Thank goodness!” He couldn’t help but smile at you, brushing your tears away, kissing you softly, making you sigh into the kiss, before telling you what had happened and that you were still recovering. You didn’t mind resting finally, your goal now accomplished, your sister was avenged, and the world was safe from Douma.

-Thor, Lu Bu, Poseidon, Beelzebub, Zeus (platonically), and Odin (platonically)

-He knew that you were injured, but seeing your eyes open he immediately hugged you, hunched over you on the bed. His embrace was firm but warm and you couldn’t help but smile, leaning into the embrace, a soft sigh leaving you. Before you could even ask what had happened, he told you that with the poison in your body, which has now been flushed out, assisted in killing Douma, as it’s what gave him the opening he needed to land a fatal below, crushing his skull beneath his foot. You were surprised by his slight savagery, which did make him give you a small smile, “I was so angry when I thought I lost you- and he was the source of that anger.” You smiled up at him, giggling softly before he pecked your cheek gently, telling you to get some rest, which you had no issue doing, as Douma was now gone. You could rest quietly now.

-Hades, Qin Shi Huang, Nikola, Kojiro, Adam (platonically)

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror thor #ror lu bu #ror poseidon #ror beelzebub #ror zeus #ror odin #ror hades #ror qin shi huang #ror nikola tesla #ror kojiro sasaki #ror adam

113 notes · View notes

neoneun-au · 1 year

Note

doyoung + positive + urban fantasy 🫶

ok its done and i really dont know how i feel about it tbh fhcdjh hopefully you like it well enough tho !! its the closest to fluff i ever really get lol

witch!doyoung x witch!reader | light urban fantasy au, doctor au, fluff | 1.1k words

“The doctor will see you now,” Yeri, the clinic nurse, grins at you–smile sparkling like the periwinkle wings on her back. You thank her and head down the hallway towards the usual examination room, eyes glancing over the array of posters adorning the walls.

Trouble Shifitng? We Can Help! Talk to your Doctor today

Are You Experiencing Wing Droop?

Cursed By A Witch? Get it Lifted. Tuesday-Thursday at our Auxiliary Clinic Downtown!

You slip off your coat and bag and hop onto the exam table, paper crinkling under your weight as you adjust before settling down and waiting. It only takes a few minutes in the sanitized silence of the room before the door swings open and Doyoung enters, brow creased in thought as he reads over your chart. He looks up at you and the expression shifts–first to one of happiness, then a flutter of worry, until it settles finally on the pursed lips and drawn eyes of annoyance.

“I told you I wouldn’t have time to visit as much this week, the clinic has been busy and–”

“Dr. Kim, is that any way to talk to a patient?” you tease, pausing him before the lecture gets too far along.

“You made an appointment?” He looks suspicious, likely recalling the numerous times you had cajoled Yeri to let you into the back of the clinic to see him without warning. You nod in the affirmative, but the suspicion remains clear on his face. “For an actual, medical reason?” You nod again. He sighs in resignation, setting your file down and moving to wash his hands. You watch him, evaluating the tired droop of his shoulders and the lines of worry creasing at the corners of his eyes. A small pang of guilt reverberates through your core, maybe you should have waited to see him, but then you remember your reasons and swallow the guilt back down before it resurfaces.

“Alright,” he starts, “what seems to be the issue?”

“Well, I’ve been having these strange heart palpitations and it’s causing some sparking in the fingers–” you start and his eyes widen.

“They have? Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” The mood in the room shifts markedly, worry leaking out through his aura and probing at the edges of your own. “How long has this been happening?” He removes the stethoscope from around his neck, placing it over your heart while you talk.

“I don’t know, it’s only been a few days and it wasn’t that bad. You seemed pretty busy and Yeri said you didn’t have any appointments until now so I just kept an eye on it,” you mutter your excuses while he picks up your hands, turning them over in his own gloved ones. You watch his forehead as he examines your fingertips–hands gentle and familiar even while encased in latex.

“You could have seen a different doctor, I would have preferred if you got it looked at as soon as it started.” He presses his thumb into a couple of soft spots on your palm and you feel the heat of magic pulsing just under the skin of your fingertips at his touch.

“But you’re my favourite witch doctor,” you pout and he sighs, placing your hand back on your lap.

“You’ve gotta stop calling me that,” he says, taking the penlight out from his front pocket. “Look to your left.”

The light shines and disappears, shines and disappears. You take a moment to let your vision return to normal before speaking. “Why? You are both of those things.”

“Yes, but ‘witch doctor’ has some…strange connotations depending on who you’re talking to,” he shakes his head, returning the light to his pocket and settling down on the stool in front of you.

“Ok, you’re my favourite doctor who is also a witch by mere coincidence.” You reach over to ruffle his hair and he bats you away but you see the hint of a smile quirking up the corner of his lips.

He continues to work in silence, broken only by the occasional instruction to breathe in or out. The metal of the stethoscope, usually so cold against your skin, is warm to the touch and you smile at the thought of him enchanting it before attending to you. A few minutes pass and he pulls out a pen and pad of paper.

“I’m writing you a requisition for blood work,” he says, tearing the paper from the pad and placing the note into the palm of your hand. “Please do me a favour and actually get it done this time, I don’t want to have to remind you.”

“You got it, Doc,” you smile, tucking the paper into your coat pocket knowing that he will remind you about it later whether or not you remember. “Can I ask for one more thing before you move onto the next patient?”

He raises an eyebrow in questioning, hands stalled in the midst of removing his gloves, “is there something else going on?”

“No, it’s just a little prescription I’ve been waiting for,” you smile, pleased at the blatant confusion on his face and the absence of the tired worry that was previously taking up residence in the corners of his eyes.

“What sort of prescription?”

“Oh, nothing I haven’t had before,” you hum, kicking your heels against the table as you string him along. “Just a kiss.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes but leaning in anyway. His lips meet yours and the familiar warmth and tenderness in the action urges you to smile into the kiss. He pulls away after a second, short but sweet, and matches your smile with one of his own. One you’ve barely seen the ghost of for the past few days.

“Do I get any refills?” you tease, hopping off the table to stand in front of him.

“Yes, but you can only have them every 4-6 hours.” He turns to open the door for you, holding it while you brush past him into the hallway.

“Okay, fine,” you wave him off, already heading down the hallways towards reception, “I’ll see you at home.” You start to round the corner out of his line of sight but an insistent thud against your thigh as you walk reminds you of your other reason for visiting him. “Wait, Doie–”

“I told you not to call me that at work,” he frowns when you march up to him but you dismiss it with a wave of your hand before reaching into your bag and tugging out the tupperware you brought.

“I figured you wouldn’t have much time to eat so I brought you something.”

He pops open the lid, examining the contents for a second before snapping it shut again with a quiet smile, “I knew there was a reason I married you.”

“Don’t forget to heat it up,” you remind, planting a final kiss on his lips. Just in time for the distinct wailing of a teething vampire toddler to sound out from the waiting room. He sighs and you pat his shoulder in support. “Good luck.”

#doyoung fluff #nct fluff #nct 127 fluff #doyoung x reader #doyoung x y/n #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #idfk what to tag things as anymore !!!!#mads.fic

46 notes · View notes

somethingblu3 · 1 month

Text

Birthday Song | Luke Davenport (Part 1)

Read on Ao3 Here.

18+ minors dni.

Masterlist

Fandom: Dream Team

Summary:

Luke needs his nightly eye drops especially on his birthday but he can't stand him. He knows there's only one way you could give him comfort.

TW: Eye drops, grumpy Luke davenport, hurt/comfort, birthday, fluffy, medicine, birthday fic, restrained, fussy Luke, established relationship, cuddling & snuggling, medicine, rejection, anxiety, angst and feels.

Pairing: Luke Davenport x Female Reader.

Word Count: 2,332 Words

Note:

Finally a late post to Tumblr! also gonna remind you guys of my fics for Gaza post. Part 2 will include smut.

"Luke. Hold Still," You order through gritted teeth. You towered over him as your hand gripped the white bottle of eye drops.

At least he was complying somewhat this time; he was still kicking and screaming, of course, but it wasn't as bad as the other night that night, which made you lose countless hours of sleep.

This was the closest you had ever gotten the medication to his eyes. Luke was bigger than you, of course, and meatier, too. He could easily force you into a chokehold if his arms were free, but they weren't. You had haphazardly tied them to the headboard with his sweatband. He had some wiggle room, but certainly not enough to break free, at least not as easily as you had hoped.

"Come on, Luke, stop being such a big baby. I know you hate it, but I don't know. Remember what will happen if you lose your sight for good?" You didn't want to taunt him, but you needed to shake him up a little—not striking the fear of God into him ultimately, but enough for him to want and need to take the medicine in the first place.

"I know, I know, Love...it's just my birthday", he sighs as he stops his wrists from fighting against the blue sweaty restraints. "I just thought I'd have a day off. That I could be 'normal' again, back to the way things were before my bloody sight-"

You sigh as you set the bottle on the bed and cup his cheek "Luke, Honey. You were born with this condition. Your father had it, too...it was inevitable. You can't change how it was written or meant to be."

Luke gives you a small nod in return. "I know...I just thought you'd let me off. It's my birthday. I'm not going to be this young and handsome forever," he tells you, which makes you shake your head and chuckle.

"Luke-"

"But I'm not! I'm already ageing. I've seen signs, Sweetheart. Don't tell me you haven't seen my grey while we've been showering and how slow I've been getting during practice. My back pain, my tiredness-"

"Luke", You cut him off. "You're not even in your 30s yet. Relax, love," you tell him as you move the stands of his hair out of his eyes like you always did. His hair had always been so untamed you didn't understand how he could see a single thing or even kick the ball with his hair in a way like that. Some days, you wanted to get out a pair of succours and cut it for him, but with his sensory issues, you knew that would be another tantrum in the making.

"It's only two drops, Sweetheart. It'll only take a couple of seconds. Your vision might be blurry, and your head might hurt," you remind him as you stroke his arm, but he jerks it away. But then you'll be back to normal. We can cuddle and watch some Match Of The Day if you'd like," you suggest in a smooth tone.

Luke sighs as he scrunches his brows. "But that's exactly the problem! The burning as well as the itching from the dryness of my headaches afterwards! you know how bad they are! it takes hours to recover. Love. I can't do this every night or for the rest of my life. You should be living your best life out there, not looking after me. I'm so hopeless I can't even bear to be in the same room as a flashing camera," he groans. You knew if he was free from his restraints, he would be covering his face with his hands weeping .

Poor Luke.

Ever since you'd met him before you started dating, he was a sensitive soul. Sometimes, he'd crack over nothing and lose his temper if what he wanted wasn't going his way. You had learned to deal with this over the years, even if it made the two of you part ways occasionally.

"Is there something? anything I can do to help you through this?" you ask.

You weren't willing to loosen the restraints—at least not now—but there had to be something—anything you could do to ease the pain of the drops.

Luke lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding "Not unless you could somehow convince the Doctors not to give me this shit-" he grumbles.

"Luke, you know I can't do that. Even with all the money in the world-"

"I know" Luke nods as he sulks, slouching into the bed. "I was just saying, you know what? never mind-"

He's quiet for a while as he looks away from the distance.

"There is something you could do-" As he tells you this, your eyes fall to his plump, kissable lips. He was such a damn distraction. How did he look like that? So drop-dead gorgeous and handsome all the time? while you always looked like a mess? Although he'd tell you the opposite, sometimes, you couldn't help but wonder if Luke was just trying to be nice . What would a guy like him do? Luke Davenport want with a girl like you? You were so out of his league.

He purses his lips "Your voice-" he says "It soothes me"

You frown as you inch closer "Soothes you?"

He nods hesitantly, not wanting to offend. "Yes, I love hearing it. I don't know what it is, but it calms me down," he says sincerely. It's the first serious moment you've had with Luke for a while between all of the tantrums and hassle of trying to get him to take the damn medication.

"So what do you want me to do? Read you a story?" you suggest, which makes him shake his head and scoff in response.

"No, no, I'm not a child," he warns, and then he pauses. "But... could you sing me a song?" he asks as he brushes his legs against yours.

Cheeky.

"A song? Luke, I can't sing. I sound like Rebecca Black. I'm so whiney," You groan as you throw a pillow at him.

"Hey, hey! No, you're way better than her," he chuckles, shaking his head. "I've heard you in the shower, babe. You're gonna be like the next Kelly Clarkson," he swears as he tries to dodge the pillow.

You roll your eyes as you lean forward, staring into his deep sapphire eyes, forgetting about the small white bottle of eye drops almost entirely. "Kelly Clarkson, huh?" you taunt as you lick your lips.

"Yeah...her", he nods, but you know he's not paying any attention as he swallows hard.

"So what do you want me to sing?" you ask as you run a hand over his thigh.

Luke gasps, surprised by the unexpected electric touch. "Anything—anything," he begs. He's whining like a child. He always went into a childlike state when he begged for whatever it was he wanted, and all he wanted was to hear your voice to calm him as you forced the eye drops into him.

"How about a happy birthday? since it's my birthday after all?" he shrugs lightly, moving the restraints

You nod, considering it. "And you promise you'll take the drops?" you ask.

He flinches as you open the cap. His heart beats a steady rhythm in his eardrums, and you watch as his lips part. Even with the promise of a sweet song, almost a lullaby, he was still nervous about the side effects of the drops. He swore his eyes were dry already, but perhaps that was because of the fear of what was to come. He knew the first thing he would feel would be sitting almost instantly each time. It was even more uncomfortable than the last.

"I promise, " Luke nods. He watches you as you reach out your hand. At first, he wonders if you are going to free him, but he quickly doubts it as soon as you grab the full cup of water from the nightstand instead.

"I think you're the one who needs to freshen up your pipes, aren't you, love?" He asks with a small smile as you force the drink down his throat. After he's finished, he licks his lips and takes a moment to close his eyes and blink like it's his last time.

"Alright, love", he nods determinedly.

He couldn't believe that this was something he had to do now for the rest of your life. Or, as you said, it was written in the stars.

He was sick, and he needed medicine, especially if he wanted to get better and keep his number 11 position on the team.

Luke had to do this for him, for you. Surely, he could face a couple of eye drops, especially if he always got tackled every night on the pitch. Couldn't he?

Luke took a finally shaky breath, but there were no eye drops to follow. Instead, you leaned closer. You reached forward, cupping his cheek, and you began to sing slowly. He didn't know why, but he didn't expect you to actually do it—to follow through to sing the song.

Were you doing it just because it was his birthday?

or because you generally loved him?

Either way, Luke was blown away by how much you cared about him. He wasn't Luke Davenport, the famous football player in your eyes.

He was just Luke.

Lucas.

That was all he was to you. Just a simple boy with a heart too big for his chest that grew to size every time he saw you. The boy, that was messy and complicated, needed help every now and then, even if it was just for some damn eye drops. He needed someone in his life to have and to hold.

And then, sitting there in the bed, Luke realised something: that person was you.

"Happy birthday to you—" Your lips brushed against his skin ever so delicately. He could have reached out and touched, brushed his plump ones against your own. Instead, he didn't. With much restraint, he held himself back from locking his with yours and from battling your tongue with his overdominance.

It felt like the slowest moment in existence as you removed the bottle cap, but your patience, at least on the surface, was unwavering. With your free hand, you traced his face delicately, making delicate little circles that made him melt. It was so tempting to draw his eyes close, but he didn't. He kept them sharp and open just for you, just for his love.

"Happy birthday, dear Lucas-" And just like that, as you uttered his name's final 'S', you delicately dropped the medicine in just as much as you could, even with him flinching.

"Happy birthday to you...."

He thought he ruined it. He thought he'd blinked his eyes and then made a mess of it all, but instead, you patted him on his shoulder, which was still tied up by the restraints, and you gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

"All done. Good job," you tell Luke.

Luke smiles. That was it?

He knew the side effects would kick in soon, especially the dizziness, once you were both finished. He watched as you put the drops away while he blinked like crazy, and then you finally freed him. His wrists ached as he flung the sweatbands across the room, and you instantly hugged him.

"I need to hear your voice again, love. I need to hear more," he tells you in a sleepy, drowsy state as he lies on your lap.

You instantly reach for the remote and begin flicking through to find the sports channel, but they all make Luke's head pound as you flicker behind the channels—the changing description every two seconds, the small text, and the flashing images. His head was hot like it was seconds away from exploding.

"My voice is nothing special," you say as you comb through his hair with your angelic touch.

"Nonsense", Luke tells you firmly. He would look at you into your eyes at that moment if it wasn't for the headache about to set in, and if anything, the TV screen was making it worse. He knew from the medication that he couldn't close his eyes entirely, so instead of heading in your lap, he just focused on the ground.

"I need to hear your voice, sweetheart," he calls out like a prayer, a desperate plea.

you sigh as you give in. "Do you really want me to sing Happy Birthday again?" you ask with a frown.

"Yes," he nods instantly.

You sigh as you relax your shoulders. "Alright then," you tell him, and then an instant smirk appears across his lips.

"It is my birthday, after all, and I can have anything I want", he teases.

"And what you want is to hear me sing happy birthday over and over again? Have you lost your mind?" you tease, making him stifle a laugh.

"Yes- there's nothing wrong with your voice love you'd make it I'm serious"

"Yeah, maybe with your money", you tease him, having heard all the rumours.

"Oh, don't listen to them, love," he says, knowing he's read the same articles as you. "They have no idea who we are or what we're capable of," he tells you as he interlocks his fingers with yours and kisses your knuckles.

"So...you want me to sing Happy Birthday again? Is that really your birthday wish?" you ask, hoping it won't be.

"Do I only get one gift on this special day?" he teases as you nod.

"Yes, of course, you spoiled boy. Didn't your mother get you brand new Calvin Klein?" You ask him, and he nods defeatedly

"Yes, she did, and I'm grateful I never ask for any of that stuff..." he sighs.

"I know love...well. Should I start now?"

"Preferably" he smiles softly.

#neil newbon #nobigneil #luke davenport #luke davenport x reader #fluff #dream team #dream team luke #dream team luke davenport #luke davenport x female reader #luke davenport fluff #fanfiction #dream team fanfiction

15 notes · View notes

merionettes · 6 months

Text

part 1 of how rubicon got written is here. this is part 2, aka the essay about etc.

the thing about the storyboarding/drafting process that there is no way to describe is how totally obsessed i was for the duration. afterwards i tweeted something like, this is the closest i've ever experienced to demonic possession. i would get up, write all day—like, all day—and go to bed. turn off the lights. then i would just lie wide awake in the dark with lines and scenes and dialogue scrolling through my head until i gave in and opened my notes app. i could not turn it off even if i wanted to. and i didn't want to, i was riding that streak as far as it would take me. because i couldn't look down, right? i could sense what i was attempting to do and anything other than total tunnel vision full speed ahead eyes on the prize would mean i had to acknowledge it.

(context of what made this possible: i was unemployed at the time.)

for the first ~50k or so i was afraid that at any minute i could falter. when i got to the nationals meltdown, that was when i knew i could do it. like, no matter what happened after that, i had the willpower and the chops and i knew where i was going. even if the streak died.

but it didn't. i wrote 100k in a little under 4 weeks. i've never experienced anything like that in my creative life.

—then obviously i had to get a new job and come back down to earth and it took 21 months to get from there to posting the epilogue. still. i will probably be chasing that high for the rest of my life. that was the part that like… made the rest of it possible. no matter how difficult or frustrating it was. that generated the roadmap.

i've talked about this before in comments but i had insanely strong opinions about what was "right" and what wasn't. sylvain's narrative voice was a huge part of that. it's inextricable from the content; it shaped the story; it is the story. for the first couple months it also made me an unhinged stylistic tyrant. if there was one single unnecessary word that struck me as inorganic, as existing solely to make the sentence more digestible or to convey information beyond the fourth wall, it had to go. i could not rest until it did.

once again: this is not generally the relationship i have with writing. lol. it's the demonic possession talking. this is why you have a ton of sentence fragments and stylistic tics and a refusal to let one single shred of information into the text that did not strike me as something sylvain would plausibly think or acknowledge he was thinking. and like, yeah. probably it didn't always make for the smoothest reading experience or the most satisfying narrative development. i'm dead certain there are people who picked this fic up and the bumps drove them out of their mind until they threw in the towel. i just didn't care.

part of that was a reaction to my own old style—you know, the discomfort of shedding old skin. i'd look at those early scene attempts and see all the habits and crutches i'd been trying to move away from over the last two years and double down on The Voice. but part of it… i would get early feedback that wasn't at all wrong, like "what if [clarifying narration]," "what if [more interaction]," and i'd just think, but that's not true. in exactly those words! which is crazy.

(this is why it was fortunate this was fanfiction i was writing for free, i didn't have to compromise my bonkers experience any more than i wanted to.)

to be clear this feeling didn't last two years. i was eventually able to edit like a normal person. it did last probably longer than ideal. and the point when i was no longer running on unleaded creative adrenaline was when i started to really struggle with the middle of the story. i had to make choices as a writer, instead of relying on the purity of my divine vision or whatever, and i second-guessed myself a lot. it was much easier to feel that absolute bone-deep certainty of Right and Wrong, True and False. and the thought of fucking up when i'd gotten so far was unbearable—like, being so close to making the thing in my head reality and then dropping the ball and breaking the suspension of disbelief.

distance also made it possible to perceive what i was doing and be like, jesus mer what the fuck are you doing. why are you devoting so much of your time to a hobby, why are you investing so much of your life in something you will never be able to truly share, why are you living in a hole with no one else in it. why are you putting yourself through the wringer to get it down "right." why does it matter if it's as good as it can be. why do you care. why is this worth it.

i assume this was pretty obvious before this post, but if not it must be now. this story isn't really about figure skating. for me it's about writing; who knows what it's about for you. i didn't sit down and think, great, felix will be a metaphor. that's just how it happens.

the experience of writing a novel for the first time: i'm saying this with my whole chest because at one point i wouldn't have, aloud. but what's the point in calling it anything else? i know exactly how much i invested in this. i'm the only one who can know. that's sort of the point.

here's a giant collage of the inside of my head. i made it for myself and i take it very seriously. not exactly groundbreaking to say this is the ultimate exercise in solipsism. when you're doing that—what greater gift is there than to have someone else meet you in exactly the same place. any writer would kill for the kind of responses this story has gotten, and i don't mean praise. i mean the close reads, the free response essays, the total and complete validation that this thing inside your head that only you can see is real, actually. when i say thank you, it's not for liking it or praising it—it's for taking it seriously. i loved this thing. i still love this thing. thank you for taking it seriously.

#rubicon #writing

16 notes · View notes

radioactive-earthshine · 2 years

Note

Heya 🙂 reading the comics is a slow going thing for me so I have a question about Young Justice since I probably won't get to it for months and online research isn't reliable. Who is Slo Bo really, like how did he come to be and stuff. Also what is he terminally ill with? Thanks!

Hello! If you're expecting a really awesome backstory involving dubious scientists and a creepy lab, you won't find it with Slo-bo, instead his origins are stemmed from a chaotic narrative that is worthy of any Lobo comic.

You can read all about it in Young Justice #38 when he makes his first full appearance.

Young Justice #38

He spawned directly from Lobo's splattered blood from "the shallow end of the gene pool" thus why he is smaller and weaker than the rest.

For everything genetic-wise that he lacked, or felt that he lacked, he made up in his emotional intelligence and self preservation skills as unlike Lobo he displays empathy and vulnerability. I think he was damn smart turning around and heading back into the ship to fix it while the rest of the Lobo clones killed each other, but at this point in time he's new, dealing with stuff, and he doesn't view his decision as positive.

As for what he is terminally ill with, well that's more difficult to explain.

We don't have a solid diagnosis, he is not human so a human diagnosis wouldn't technically be a fair one, but we can come up with approximations.

Regardless, this is what he says about his mortality.

Young Justice #54

Slo-bo explains that from the moment he was "born" his vision was "fuzzy" and had been rapidly declining ever since. Then he goes on to explain that he suspects his "other senses" would also go next (hearing, taste, smell, touch etc). On the next pages is when he mentions some vague symptoms of being able to feel his body breaking down but doesn't follow up with it.

A common theme/trope among clones is genetic instability, where they have a time limit for how long they are viable before they die in (usually) various graphic ways, so it is no different here.

We don't have a blatant diagnosis. The closest that I can think of off the top of my head, and I am NOT a doctor, would be a more rapid version of ALS due to his describing losing senses and it being a gradual decline. But there are literally hundreds of conditions that involve deterioration of multiple areas of the body someone could approximate to what is going on with him other than "genetic non-viability".

I hope this helps and please continue to read comics.

#slo-bo #slobo #terminal illness #young justice #young justice 1998 #lobo #the main man

56 notes · View notes

yuridovewing · 11 months

Text

Tigerheart's Shadow Diagnosis: B

I will not lie. Dovewing was there and it boosted my ranking by a lot

To be honest, I think I'm a bit of an outlier when it comes to WC fans, cause I actually sorta like the travel books. I dunno, I always kinda enjoy a little adventure where the cats interact with human stuff. It's cute to me, it reminds me of pet xenofiction and it's the closest WC ever gets to this sorta thing. They definitely have a pacing problem, and I felt that in this book, but they're not the worst things ever to me.

I liked Tigerheart getting stuck on a train and all the cats needing to deal with the train tracks (and calling trains "thundersnakes" was really cute) and I liked a lot of the city stuff. The guardian cats were a really neat group and I'm glad we spent a lot of time on them, they're lovely. I also really enjoyed Spiresight as a character. Sometimes you just gotta enjoy a weird girlie with visions (and I've subscribed to the theory that he's Tadpole btw. That scene where he grabs Pouncekit while she's hanging over the ledge with such ferocity, mirroring how Tadpole died pushing Moth up the ledge in canon... aughhhh)

The entire first part of the book with Tigerheart in ShadowClan was also really good. I love the parallel between him and Dovewing where they both felt suffocated by their clans' expectations of them and cracked.

Dovewing's treatment will always bother me but I did like her here a lot. You go girl get OUTTA there!!! Everyone acting like she just had a goofy little anxiety dream when she was literally a prophecy cat... Grrrr bite bite grrrrrrrrrr. It really puts into perspective how despite what her sister and the fandom preaches, no one actually respects Dovewing and her feelings and they're quick to dismiss it all as being "stuck in her own head". Her interactions with Tigerheart and their kits were really precious and I loved most of their scenes Besides the ones where Tigerheart was being weird, which brings me to...

... Erins "learn how to have clan cats be normal about outsiders/at least come to respect them" challenge. Failed immediately. Why does Tigerheart feel suffocated by his clan to the point where he decides to join Dovewing super quickly and looks for a reason to join when he feels forced to stay in ShadowClan, only to get to the city and be like "well let's go back to ShadowClan honey. What, you didn't actually think I wanted to come out here, did you?" And then the ending has him like "No wait I kinda wanna stay dead because leading ShadowClan is scawy" and like he's allowed to have conflicting feelings but it read like he just swapped motivations when the plot needed him to. Not to mention how rude he is to the guardian cats and forcing his customs onto them (and this being portrayed as a good thing and evidence he's a fantastic leader) I think it'd make more sense if he wanted to stay in the city with Dovewing and felt comfortable with the guardian cats, but he felt restless and guilty for ditching Rowanstar, and when Spiresight gives him the warning then he suddenly folds. Like cmon, at least PRETEND you respect outside groups for a moment before turning your main protag into a spokesperson for how superior this dystopian- i mean euphoric society he llives in is and how everyone ever should shut up and conform to it or else you're an idiot who deserves to get beat up.

I dunno. There was a lot of good here but a lot of weird stuff too. But that sorta comes with the territory for WC, really. Good idea, good beginning, good characters, but needs tuning up imo.

#ths liveread #and now. we get back to avos finally... sighhhhhhhhh if i HAVE to #not tonight tho fuck that. im reading the other graphic novels first anyways ksdfj

9 notes · View notes

our-magical-world · 3 months

Text

My "improved CR" DR

NOTE: I haven't shifted yet, this is based on my script and ideas for this DR

To be honest, I don't even know if I'll end up shifting to this DR. Because at the end of the day, even if it's a better version of my CR and I have a good life there, it's still too similar to this reality, and I think I'll feel more at home in my fantasy world.

But this is the vision I had in my head when I learned about manifesting, before I knew about shifting, before I confirmed that shifting to my fantasy DR was even possible at all. I asked myself: if I can never go back there, if I have to stay here and live with the rules of this reality, what's the closest I can get? What kind of life would make me happy? And this is what I came up with. When I knew about shifting, I considered permashifting to this better CR life. But I'm not sure yet.

First, the most important thing for me was reuniting with my friends and s/o from my fantasy DR. I believe they're my soul family and I won't be complete without them. Just like we exist in every reality (according to the multiverse theory), I've always believed the people in my DR also exist here, in some way. So I'd find them, their "real world version", and they all would have memories of me and our original world, they were manifesting me as much as I've been manifesting them.

In this reality, me and my friends and s/o are master shifters, so we go to our fantasy DR regularly (group shifting) and I can also shift to any DR I want anytime.

We all live together in my dream house, a fairytale-like house surrounded by nature and close to the forest (but close enough to the city to go there taking a walk if needed, and my s/o and another friend have cars anyway just in case). We also have a big cozy library in the attic, with lots of fantasy books and comfy chairs and a table for reading, studying and writing, and a cozy shared studio with big windows looking out at the forest, where we can work on our projects or do our jobs from home. My friend, who is a mage in my fantasy DR and a witch in my CR, has a little garden where she grows herbs. Oh, important: I haven't decided where we live, but it's somewhere up North (can be North of Spain or another country) so I don't have to endure summer in Southern Spain ever again, because it's hell on earth.

I have enough money to live freely without being tied to a job (passive income or something) and can afford traveling often or buying anything I want. I only work on projects I'm passionate about, without worrying about making money with them (but I do anyway because they're always a success). I'm a multi-talented artist, because I can't choose just one thing: I draw and paint, write books and poetry, make fantasy costumes (for cosplay or medieval faires, for myself or as commissions), and work regularly as a voice actress. Sometimes I also work on theatre, especially musicals. I have the kind of life that never gets boring, because I always have new and different projects to motivate myself. And if I don't feel like working, or just want to work on personal projects and make art for myself, I can do it, so I'm never burned out. Besides doing art, I also work out everyday (m s/o loves working out so we often train together) and take long walks in the forest, sing and listen to music often (usually while I work), read books, or just take time to enjoy a cup of tea and relax.

We all have freelance jobs or do something that gives us a lot of freedom (working from home and having our own schedule), so we can travel a lot. We often travel together to magical places, and attend fantasy conventions and medieval faires and concerts of our favorite bands and artists all around the world. We also try to incorporate fantasy in every aspect of our life, anything that reminds us of our original world: our clothes, food, house decor, music... we play tabletop RPGs regularly and attend LARPs as often as possible, and try to make our lives as magical as possible. One of my friends is a musician and I love singing, so we have weekly evenings of singing and playing the guitar and imagining we're staying at the inn, or we camp in the woods and sing around the campfire. Just nostalgic things that remind us of our world.

In this reality I'm very similar to my CR self, just a slightly improved version (scripting out some insecurities and my anxiety, adding some more self-love and confidence). A version of me who is successful and free and loved and surrounded by friends.

Bonus: My style in my better CR

#my other realities #shiftblr #reality shifting #desired reality #better cr #improved cr

5 notes · View notes

braveclementine · 5 months

Text

Chapter 13

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

.❤️.

𝕰𝖝𝖆𝖒 𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖐 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖊 quickly, something I was glad for. I finally had something to do besides studying and homework. And of course, something to get my mind off of Quirrell, Snape, and the Sorcerer's Stone.

The classrooms for the written exams were horridly hot. Boiling really. I hated the stupid robes that we had to wear in class, sweat running down the back of my neck. I wasn't the only one either- half the students were wiping sweat from their foreheads or fanning themselves. Even the teachers looked uncomfortably hot, but no one took off their robes.

I started taking refuge in the cold dungeons. Most of the time, Professor Snape came into his bedroom or office and I was either on his bed, or in one of the chairs immersed deeply in a book. Half the time, I hadn't even realized he'd entered the room until he was leaning over my shoulder, scaring the crap out of me.

Muggle school had had this thing called 'air conditioning'. It was this thing made out of metal and ran on stuff called electricity and it made the rooms cool in the summer. I wished Hogwarts had something like that, albeit magical considering technology and magic didn't mix. The closest thing we had was opening the window.

All of my written exams went well (besides the heat). Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Potions were first.

We had to boil a forgetfulness potion from memory which was a simple potion with about four ingredients and took about 47 minutes to boil.

In charms, I had to make a pineapple tap dance across Professor Flitwick's desk which was just one simple spell.

Professor McGonagall wanted us to turn mice into snuffboxes. Mine was a long rectangular box of metal, with sapphire and silver coloring. Professor McGonagall was impressed because most people usually turned theirs into gold or cream colored boxes. I wasn't sure if I got extra points for that or if she was just pointing out that I was unusual. Thanks McGonagall.

Snape administered my Defense Against the Dark Arts exam which he gave me in his office. I sat at a desk he'd conjured out of midair, and he sat on a chair, looking completely and utterly bored, grading the potion exams from a few days ago.

I finished in about thirty minutes, only half the time he'd given me. He looked up, "Done already?"

"Well it was fairly easy." I said, leaning over to place my paper on an empty stool.

"What's that?" He asked, pointing and I looked down, pulling my necklace out from underneath my clothes.

I felt anxious. Had he seen this before? Had mum ever worn it in school? He didn't seem to recognize it though and I said, "It's a necklace from my mum. She died when I was young you know. My godfather raised me."

He nodded, still showing no sign that he recognized it, and turned back to grading papers. I turned to touch the door and I suddenly had a vision. An owl was flying towards the castle, carrying a letter. The letter zoomed in, Dumbledore's name written on it. But the sky was different than it was today.

"Elizabeth?" Professor Snape asked, sounding just slightly annoyed.

I shook my head, clearing my mind. "Sorry." I muttered and then turned and asked, "Professor? Will you reconsider your earlier decision of not giving me private lessons? I really want to learn more."

Professor Snape looked up from where he was grading papers, "Miss Kane, I've said this once before. You're a brilliant student. There is no need to take private lessons."

Brilliant? Huh. I didn't want to show my disappointment, but my shoulders slumped regardless. I sighed, "Very well. Have a nice day Professor."

I exited the classroom swiftly, letting the door close softly behind me. I was rather disappointed, as I wanted to learn more in order to create a werewolf cure. I wandered around, thinking of different arguments I could make, not sure where I was going.

I distracted myself by thinking of my last vision. So the owl wasn't coming today. . . I wished I could tell exactly which day it was.

"Keep an eye on Quirrell, won't you?" I flinched away from the words and bumped into someone.

I looked up and took a step back. It was Quirrell. Oh bloody hell, why didn't I listen to my visions more?

"P-Professor Quirrell." I stuttered, a light panic settling in my chest. I thought he'd given up.

He glared down at me, looking around quickly. There was no one around. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into an empty classroom. I was to rigid to try and fight it.

"Miss Kane." He said, in a perfectly normal voice, no stuttering. "Let's have a chat."

"No thanks." I said and bolted for the door.

"Colloportus." He shouted and the door locked. I ducked the next spell and then did something incredibly stupid.

I ran for the window.

"Reducto." I shouted, pointing my wand towards the window. I hadn't ever done the spell before, but I really needed it to work. The window shattered.

"No!" Quirrell shouted angrily along with another voice.

I jumped out the window and free-fell. "Oh bloody hell." I muttered, looking down. I was much higher than I had thought. In my wandering I had left the dungeons and somehow made it to the fifth floor. What was I doing up here? I had about seven seconds to think how to save myself.

I pointed my wand at myself as I got closer and closer to the ground. "Wingardium Leviosa," I said at the last moment. I floated above the ground and then I let the spell collapse and I fell four feet onto grass. Pain shot up my arm.

I didn't give time for myself to breathe, jumping up to my feet, and grabbing my bag (it had fallen next to me), ran across the grass. I didn't stop running until I was at my common room and I knocked the password and stepped inside. I ran up to my dormitory, collapsing on my bed. I was safe. I had done something completely and totally reckless and I had survived.

I breathed in and out, clutching my arm, not sure if I was breathing quickly or just hyperventilating. Once I calmed down, I quickly rolled over and pulled out my ink and quill. I needed to write to dad. (Yes, that was the brilliant solution that I thought of considering Dad was miles away from Hogwarts and could do absolutely nothing, while the headmaster was a few feet away and could do something. But dad had been my safe harbor and I supposed it was out of habit that I wrote to him).

Dear Dad, I did something incredibly awesome and stupid today. I know I haven't been writing a lot, and I'm sorry. So a couple of weeks ago, I overheard Quirrell talking to Voldemort. At least, I'm fairly certain it was Voldemort if my visions are correct. Of course, Voldemort doesn't have a body, he's possessing Quirrell's body. Anyways, Voldemort was aware that I could hear them but I escaped. He cornered me today and I managed to perform a spell that I had never done before- the Reductor curse. That's a grade 4 spell! Of course, I was much higher up than I had thought, perhaps I should've looked before I jumped out of the window. But I used the Wingardium Leviosa spell and I'm fine now. I'm going to Dumbledore after I mail this to you. He needs to know about what Quirrell is after. Love you, Elizabeth

Susan Bones came in the room at that moment. I looked up. "What's up?"

"Professor Quirrell wants to talk to you about your Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. . . did you skip it?" She asked.

I shook my head, trying to remain calm though I felt panic filling me again. "No, Professor Snape proctored me. Dumbledore asked him to." I said.

"Oh." Susan frowned. "I'll go tell him then."

When she had left, I folded the letter and put it in an envelope, writing Remus Lupin on the outside of it. Then, I sneaked out of the room, looking for the common room door. I hid behind the couch as Susan led Professor Quirrell into the common room. I sneaked around the edge of the couch as she led him into the girls dormitories. He would have to wait at the foot of the stairs, because he couldn't go up them as it was the girls dormitory.

I darted across the room, praying he didn't see me. I raced through the castle, nearly knocking over someone- though I didn't see who. Once I was in the owlery, I relaxed, sliding to the floor. Sadie flew over, perching on my knee. I stroked her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't bring any food. I was in a hurry."

She nipped my finger lightly.

"I'll bring food next time, I promise." I whispered.

I heard footsteps on the stairs but I didn't get to my feet. If he was going to kill me, he was going to kill me. I tied the letter to Sadie's ankle quickly and said "Safe flight, go now."

She nibbled my ear softly and flew out the window. I struggled to my feet, putting my hand in my pocket and turning towards the window. I could fall here. If I did the same thing. . . I got ready to hop up on the ledge-

"Elizabeth?" Fred asked, hands in his pockets, looking at me with raised eyebrows.

I hopped down from the ledge. "Oh, hey Fred."

"What were you doing?" Fred asked, looking up at the ledge I was just standing on.

I shrugged. "You've never done that before? I think it's calming. Then again, I'm not exactly afraid of heights." I felt giddy that it wasn't Quirrell who had just come up those stairs.

Fred laughed, shaking his head. "You really are the most peculiar girl I've ever met."

We spent the rest of the day talking in the owlery. It was safe up here and I didn't see Quirrell for the rest of the day.

I forgot to go to Dumbledore.

.❤️.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖙 exam was History of Magic. The questions were all about people who had invented magical objects or about Goblin rebellions. It was all very easy stuff although I nearly forgot the name of the man who founded Hogsmeade.

I couldn't wait until we got the results back because I wanted to know how I did. I wondered if I did wonderfully enough in Astronomy so that I didn't have to take it again. Wishful thinking, I'd be lucky enough if I got an O.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be. I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf code of conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager." Hermione rattled off as we headed outside to enjoy the day after exams.

"Hermione please." Ron complained. "going through exams makes me feel sick. I already took them once, I don't want to think about them again."

We headed outside and wandered down near the lake. I looked up in the sky and my stomach lurched. An owl was flying, the same one I'd seen in my vision. Tonight, Quirrell was going to steal the stone.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione sat down under a tree. I wandered father over to where Fred, George, and Lee were tickling the tentacles of the giant squid.

I observed the squid with interest as I had never seen it before. It was rather large- which had given it the nickname 'giant squid'. It was mostly purple, though there were blue and green blotches along it's skin. There was some pink around it's closed eyes. The suckers were also a dark pinky-purple color. When it fluttered it's eyes open, they were blue and black with flecks of amber. It was fascinating. I made mental notes so I could draw it later.

I squatted down next to Fred and the three of them greeted me cheerfully.

"'Lo Elizabeth." Lee said lazily, popping something in his mouth. "How'd your exams go?"

"Quite well." I said. "Though I'm sure I failed my astronomy exam."

"You sound delighted by that." George said with a laugh.

"You did fine." Fred said with an eye-roll. "You're the smartest witch of the year."

I shook my head. "That would be Hermione Granger."

"You two should seriously consider competing." Lee said. He was eating some sort of chips.

I laughed. "Perhaps, what are you eating?"

"Hydra chips. Salt and vinegar flavored. Want one?" Lee asked.

"Hydra chips?" I asked, holding my palm out where Lee dropped one.

"Oh come on! Don't tell me you haven't had Hydra chips!" Lee proclaimed with shock. Fred snorted.

"I haven't." I admitted, observing the chip in my hand. It looked like a normal potato chip except there seemed to be parts of a Hydra stenciled into them. Did they have a machine that made them? Or was each one handcrafted? Either was quite possible considering the magical world. I popped it into my mouth. "They're good."

"Ha! See!" Lee jabbed a Hydra chip at George. George rolled his eyes.

"Are there other brands?" I asked in interest.

"Sure." Lee said, tossing me a bag. I tuned it over to look at the back. Mermaid chips, Centaur chips, dragon chips, Bowtruckle chips. There was quite a list of them and each flavor had a different magical creature assigned to it.

"Interesting, I wonder how Hermione and Harry would like these." I said, handing the bag back to Lee after snagging a few more.

"So you're still hanging out with them?" George asked, through pursed lips. "Harry and Hermione I mean?"

I sighed. "You mean because they lost house points. Yes, I'm still hanging out with them. But it doesn't matter, I can already see that Gryffindor will win the house cup."

Lee hmpfed grumpily. "Sure, it'll take a miracle for that though."

I smiled, "Oh-"

But I didn't get a chance to finish the conversation because Hermione called my name, sounding frantic.

"Bye." I said quickly and raced over. "What's happening?" I asked needlessly as Ron, Hermione, and I hurried after Harry.

"No bloody clue." Ron muttered.

We found ourselves down by Hagrid's cabin. He was sitting in a wooden armchair outside of his cabin. Fang lay by his feet. He was shelling peas in a very large bowl.

"Hullo" He said, looking up with a smile. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes please." Ron and I said, but Harry shook his head.

"No, we're in a hurry, Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards look like?"

"Dunno, he wouldn' take his cloak off." Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged shocked looks. I scuffed my foot against the dirt.

"It's common at the pub." I said quickly, defending Hagrid. "Most people don't know who each other is when they're in there."

"That's right. I never saw his face. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he?" Hagrid sounded confused about why Harry sounded so frantic.

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas, rubbing his scar. I felt a twinge of heat where my locket was and then it was gone. I wondered if somehow, we were connected by more than blood. I turned the locket over in my fingers repeatedly as the conversation continued.

"What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?" Harry asked weakly.

Hagrid frowned, probably trying to remember the conversation, "Mighta come up. Yeah. . . he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here. . . He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after. . . so I told him. . . an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon. . . an' then. . . I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks. . . Let's see. . . yeah, then he said he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home. . . so I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy."

I closed my eyes. Seeing visions, and living them were much different. The emotions were more real and right now, I was feeling dread and horror. I didn't really feel anything when I saw my visions- except maybe anticipation.

"And did he- did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked as calmly as possible.

"Well- yeah, how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh now how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep-" Hagrid's face turned horrified. "I shouldn'ta told yeh that! Forget I said it! Hey- Where're yeh goin'?"

I felt terrible about leaving Hagrid behind as the four of us hurried up to the school. We didn't speak to each other at all until we got to the entrance hall.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore. Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak- it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

I shook my head. "Bane won't let Firenze back us up and if Firenze decides too anyways, he could be banned from his tribe. They'll see it as a betrayal."

"We'll just have to-" Harry said, panic setting in. A different voice rang out through the hall.

"What are you four doing inside?" Professor McGonagall said, sweeping down the hallway. Her emerald cloak flew behind her and she carried a great many books in her arms. I pictured the books falling out of her arms and I slipped my wand into my hand, ready to pick them up- with magic if the spell worked. I wasn't all to certain that it would.

"Aren't we allowed inside?" I muttered under my breath. I couldn't remember any rules about whether or not we were allowed inside or out today. But all of a sudden the Great Hall seemed almost deserted and outside seemed almost crowded with students.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore." Hermione said.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall asked, her eyes looking at all of us, narrowing. "Why?"

"It's sort of secret." Harry said and I closed my eyes. What a stupid thing to say. Really! Did my brother have brains? Or did he just think that honesty was the best tactic?

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago. He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off to London at once." I heard Professor McGonagall reply, coldly. I guessed she didn't like being out of the know, especially with her own house students- one exclusion.

"He's gone? Now?"

I opened my eyes in time to see Hermione throw me a glance. She probably wanted to know if I had known.

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time-"

"But this is important!" Harry interrupted.

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?" Professor McGonagall said, looking at him.

"Look. Professor- it's about the Sorcerer's stone-"

The books tumbled out of Professor McGonagall's arms in shock. They made loud thumps as they hit the ground. Some of the covers flew open, others stayed closed.

"Accio books." I muttered, though not entirely sure that the spell would work. To my surprise, the books zoomed up and into my arms, nearly making me topple backwards. Professor McGonagall did not ask for them back, instead staring at Harry in shock.

Meanwhile, I stared down at the books in shock. I'd never done a summoning spell before. I felt a little light-headed too. Dad said sometimes if you use to much energy in a spell, you can physically exhaust yourself. I reckoned that's what I'd done just now. But I was pleased regardless.

"How do you know-?" She spluttered, red blotches appearing on her cheeks. I would've looked down at my feet in embarrassment, but the book stack prevented me from doing so. Why had she been carrying so many books?

"Professor, I think-" Harry continued. "I know- that Sn- that someone's going to try and steal the stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

Professor McGonagall seemed to have recovered from her initial shock. "Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow. I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

Yes, so well protected that Quirrell was going to get through the defenses. So well protected a four-man team of first years was going to get through the defenses.

"But Professor-" Harry started to say.

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about. I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the nice day." I handed the books back to her. "Thank you Miss Kane. Congratulations on that summoning spell. Really advanced magic. Five points to Hufflepuff." I wondered if she was speaking incoherently because of her initial shock.

We didn't go back outside, and instead continued to stand exactly where we were.

Harry started to pace, talking aloud. "It's tonight. Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet-"

"Shut up, shut up." I whispered frantically.

Professor Snape glided over and stood behind Harry. "Good afternoon." He said smoothly. I looked down at my feet, blushing.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared up at him. "You shouldn't be inside on a day like this." I heard him say.

"We were-" Harry started.

"You want to be more careful." Snape said, "Hanging around like this, people will think you're. . . up to something. Miss Kane, a word." he stalked off and Hermione and Harry gave me meaningful looks.

"I won't say anything." I muttered as I passed by them.

"Meet us back at the Gryffindor common room." Harry whispered. I just nodded, following Professor Snape to an empty classroom.

He shut the door behind us and then turned to face me, his arms crossed.

"Explain." He said.

I kept my mouth shut. He glowered at me. "Which part?" I asked innocently.

"Did you really jump out of a window a couple of days ago?" He asked icily.

I blushed. "How'd you find out about that?"

"I saw you." He said coolly, striding forward, slamming a hand against the wall behind me, our faces so close I could smell jasmine, lime, and bluebell. He must've been making a potion recently with the bluebell, the jasmine was the shampoo, and the lime. . . no idea. "Do you have any idea how stupid, risky, and life-endangering that was?"

I kept my mouth shut again.

"Why did you do it?"

I didn't say anything. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Elizabeth, was it because of Quirrell?"

I slowly nodded my head. "He locked the door, it was my only option." I said desperately, hoping he understood.

"But you didn't tell me afterwards." He said. That shocked me. Was I supposed to have told him? Was his feelings hurt that I didn't tell him? No, of course not! He was Professor Snape- he didn't have feelings. . . except for mum it seemed. But then again. . . I'd seen a side to him that no one else had. . . a. . . almost kind side. So maybe he cared about me?

I blushed, ashamed and looked back down at my feet. "Sorry." I muttered. "I'm trying not to screw up the future that I keep seeing."

Snape was silent for a moment, leaning back and lowering his hand. Then he said, "That was all I wanted to talk about." He turned to leave and I hesitated on the brink of right and wrong.

"Dumbledore left." I blurted out, searching his face frantically.

"I know." Snape said, a grim look on his face. "I'm going to be keeping a look out by his office. He won't get to the stone without getting past me first."

I nodded and left the classroom. I made it to the Gryffindor common room at the same time as Harry and Ron.

"Hermione is going to follow Snape." Harry said. "What did he want with you?"

"Something completely unrelated from the Stone." I said. "I promise."

We went into the common room and I ducked my head so no one recognized me. I sat down on the couch, my back towards everyone else.

About fifteen minutes later, Hermione entered the common room from the portrait.

"I'm sorry Harry! I only just got away. The excuse didn't work for long." Hermione fretted, sititng down in an armchair. I wondered what excuse she'd have given as Snape had been with me and not in the teacher's lounge.

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry asked. Ron and Hermione looked at him, part apprehensive, part curious. "I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."

"You're mad!" Ron said.

"Don't Harry." I said, though I knew our words meant nothing.

"You can't!" Hermione gasped. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"

"SO WHAT?" Harry shouted at them and I glanced around, glad that the common room was, for the time being, empty. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor or Hufflepuff wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through the trapdoor tonight and nothing you three say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"

He glared at us. I flinched and looked away. Voldemort had killed my parents too! But did that mean we were supposed to risk our lives? Why couldn't we just tell the other teachers, the four house heads and then let them defeat Quirrell? And yet. . .

"You're right, Harry." Hermione said in a small voice.

"I'll use the invisibility cloak," Harry said. "It's just lucky I got it back."

Oh yeah, I thought absentmindedly.

"But will it cover all four of us?" Asked Ron.

"All- all four of us?" Harry asked, confused.

"Oh come off it!" I exclaimed angrily. "You don't think we'd let you go alone now, do you? Besides, you need me, and you're going to have to admit it!"

"Of course not." Hermione agreed. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and look through my books, there might be something useful. . ."

"But if we get caught, you three will be expelled as well." Harry protested.

I laughed, feeling just a little lighter than I had before, "Yeah right. With my grades and excellent record?"

"Not if I can help it." Hermione said, either boasting to me or trying to reassure Harry. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."

I gloated silently that my grade was four percent higher than hers. Harry turned to me. "How are you going to get there? Are you going to stay here over night? I don't know if the cloak will even fit all of us."

I smiled mysteriously, "Don't worry Harry dear. I know my way around the castle in the dark. I won't get caught."

Harry seemed unsure, but finally agreed. I got up and left the common room. I had a lot of letters I needed to write tonight.

⬅️➡️

#Braveclementineworks #BraveclementineNovel #Novel #ElizabethKane #Elizabethkaneseries #Elizabethkaneandthesorcerersstone #Sorcerersstone #Harry Potter sister #SeverusSnape #Remus Lupin #Hufflepuff #Hogwarts #Professor Quirrell #Dumbledore #McGonagall #HermioneGranger #Harry Potter #Ron Weasley #Wizarding World

4 notes · View notes