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seriiousgiirl · 2 years

Text

Sweet Juice

Severus Snape x Alumni!reader.

NFSW! Basically (fluffy) smut with a massive plot. //! Incorrect use of Potions.

Severus is 30 years old in this fic, you are 23, minor age gap.

Summary: Ever since your youth, you were passionate about the art of Potions. Luckily, during your time at Hogwarts, you found a mentor in the strict and cold Professor Snape. Having made a habit of spending hours after class talking to him, all of this came to an abrupt end during your final year. Leaving you in a total mystery, with no answers. It was only years later that you took your revenge, in the hope of moving on. Not suspecting that it would bring you face to face with your deepest desires.

A/N: I admit I could have turned this into a multi-chapter fanfic, but I figured that would break the rhythm, so enjoy this long read! This fic is inspired by ‘Sweet Juice’ by Purple Kiss, go stream it for a better life! Trust me (;

Word count: 14k. (hehe)

"Ah- Miss Y/f/n, please accept this price. It is an honour to be able to reward young talents like yourself." The little cup was hurriedly placed in your hands.

"It is an honour to be awarded with this prestigious prize," You politely thanked the crowd.

Your eyes lingered on the name of the prize, ‘Research & Development, winner of the best potion of the year'. And without even realising it, your lips drew a somewhat smug smile. Standing upright, ready to have your photo done, to appear in the next edition of the Daily Prophet, with pride, you held the cup in your hands. In that busy room, you were the youngest. And yet, you are the one who has been praised for your achievements. Earning jealous glares from the potion makers, who coveted it as much as you did.

"Miss, can you tell us more about your potion, how did you get the idea?" You were asked, for what you guessed was now an actual interview.

"I wanted to be able to help the Wizards and Witches to unwind more easily, it is sometimes difficult to let go of work pressure and its boredom. That is why I decided to study Amortentia, and its derivations, in order to create a potion capable of releasing in us the hormones necessary to enjoy ourselves... Without the negative effects of the ancient Potions." You explained, in the simplest way possible to the journalists.

"So it's a potion that gets you aroused?" One adds.

You frowned, a little offended by this shortcut, "Yes, in theory, but it goes deeper than that. Otherwise, I wouldn't be rewarded today. But if you want to know, you have to taste it... All the reviews have been very positive." You commented, with a wink.

To summarise months, almost a whole year of research, is almost an insult to your work. Amortentia is one of the most dangerous potions. Studying it to the point of understanding its mechanism and removing the obsession it causes, was the greatest achievement of the process. The rest was just a series of experiments, an understanding of the human body and its hormones, and it was done.

The result was prodigious, it brought a sense of relaxation, without the risk of an eternal sleep like the Draught of Peace. Comfort and love, without the risk of being manipulated by an evil liquid. And then, depending on the quantity used, the effects could be more or less intense, but never dangerous. Quite remarkable, considering all the side effects that most Potions could provide.

You deserve your reward tonight for many reasons, no one else has been able to do it in the past.

“Have you always held an interest in the subject?" The interview proceeded, to have some content for the beloved magazine.

"Yes, since my school days at Hogwarts. I quickly found a vocation in the subject, expressing my talents at an early age.” You paused, before continuing, "But it would never have been possible without the support of my teacher and mentor, Severus Snape, who taught me everything. His talent is second to none, and next to it, I am nobody, even after tonight." You humbly added, with another smile.

At the end of this sentence, your eyes searched for a certain dark silhouette.

Unlike earlier, that smile was particularly forced on your lips. To say that he had supported you was a fine lie. While at first he was indeed ‘supporting’ you (more like a tolerating you), graciously accepting you to attend his prestigious private Potion club, the entirety of your last year was a failure.

In your first years, you never had to face his wrath and nasty comments, simply because he couldn't blame you for anything. Your work was perfect, from theory to application. But to him, you were nothing.

With time, and your growing skills, things changed. There was a time when you even assumed that an understanding had developed between the two of you, you were not friends, it was impossible with such a man, but it wasn’t nothing either. Eventually, the discussions after class or the club, sharing theories and experiences, became quite regular. Sometimes up to dinner hour, and even after curfew, the time went by so quickly in these periods, as neither of you paid attention, caught up in the interaction. After all, the discussions were very entertaining, between two Potions enthusiasts, and you gained a lot of knowledge from them.

Perhaps because you had succeeded to raise his esteem for you, Professor Snape, during class, would give you one of his infrequent compliments on your methods, or provide you with advice while experiencing in the club. Over time, you came to really treasure this exclusive ‘bond’, with such a cold and distant person. It would be a lie to say that in every class, your shared private discussions weren't the moment you were most looking forward to. You felt special.

You couldn't remember exactly when or how this routine started, it had developed naturally during the end of your fifth year and lasted all the way through to the sixth. However, you could remember bitterly how it had ended.

By the start of your final year at Hogwarts, a cold shoulder from Professor Snape had begun to creep between the two of you. He no longer commented on your work, or even dared to give you one of his rare compliments. It was simply as if you didn't even exist. This drastic change was particularly noticeable when you tried to revive another discussion after class, only to be rejected. 'I don't have time Miss Y/f/n', 'I've got too much work', 'Go, and revise', these were, obviously, bland excuses.

You had spent time thinking about it, trying to understand this radical change, but nothing could be found. The discussions had never overflowed on personal information, at least on his side, you - You had been more talkative. And again, nothing major, just simple information like your preferences in terms of flowers, cake flavours, and favourite literature. It never looked like it bothered him to listen to you, and yet strangely enough it seemed to interest him. But, in the end, most of the talk was about Potions, nothing odd that should have ended it all brutally.

In the course of your discussions, you had always expressed an interest in a career in the field, and Professor Snape had consequently supported you (in his own way) in this idea. In all honesty, having his approval really encouraged you. Until, once again, your senior year. While you had been able to get decent, if not perfect, results up to this point, the downfall continued when you saw your grades drop for unfair reasons. You had never witnessed his unfair grading, but when you became one of his victims, he was unforgiving towards your harmless mistakes. It was as if he was trying to ruin your future career as a potion maker.

All this unjustified hatred, discouraged you, but not to the point of giving up your aspiration, otherwise you wouldn't be standing there with the precious prize in your hands.

Was it some kind of revenge? Definitely.

Mentioning Severus in your ‘thank you speech’ was perfectly legitimate, he had given you more than anyone else in your life. But, even though you kept telling yourself that it was already 3 years ago and it belonged to the past, your heart was still broken, disappointed. And by his presence tonight, you were hoping to finally put an end to it all. Snape had witnessed your happiness, you had won, the revenge was completed. Time to move on.

However, it was easier to convince yourself than to apply it. It would be wrong to claim that you hadn't worked hard to impress him. Ever since that cold war between you two, no matter how strange it may seem, you couldn't get over it.

Sometimes, in your most private moments, you would close your eyes in the hope of being able to remember. The damp smell of the dungeons invading your nostrils, your teacher's deep voice echoing within the cold walls to your ears, praising you how well you had worked. His dark eyes focused on you, and only you. In fact, the intensity of his dark gaze could suffocate you, and yet you would not care. You desperately wanted to reclaim that relationship, as someone to whom he would give his precious time, where he would share his passions anew, a time when in his mind you existed and were important. And no matter how embarrassing it was, the idea of finding pleasure in these memories was enough to make your knickers wet.

At the time, you had convinced yourself that you were not holding any affection regarding your Professor… Another fine lie from you, obviously. It had taken a few years to come to this conclusion, to get out of the denial of this forbidden love. But now it was clear and explained a lot concerning your addiction and pain. The feeling of anticipation at the end of each lesson, the way you would pour your soul into the subject in the hope of receiving a ‘compliment’... Or simply the way you kept seeking for his attention, even after years. Nothing about this behaviour was appropriate, regardless how hard you tried to maintain the classic student-teacher relationship, on your own.

Perhaps Snape had even realised this, explaining the sudden cessation of your individual time together.

And even though, with hindsight, you should have felt guilty, you couldn't throw away that attachment. It was as if he had put a spell on you, that the lack of contact with him since you graduated from Hogwarts had reinforced that love.

But today was different, it was your revenge, your mourning over this period of your life.

The sound of the camera flashes snapped you out of your thoughts. The lights blinded your eyes for a moment, and you blinked frantically to regain your sight. Hoping that the pictures would look nice on the magazine...

"Well, congratulations Miss Y/f/n, we hope to see your Potion soon on the market amongst our merchants. I can’t wait to taste it, as you have suggested." The interview ended on this note, and the journalists dismissed themselves to make room for those who wished to thank you or congratulate you in person.

Thus, you were greeted with a new wave of questions, of praises, mostly it was older wizards and witches who were attending the event, and thus more 'experienced' than you in Potions. Their words tasted like hypocrisy, but you accepted everything with a polite smile. You actually enjoyed the attention, although deep down it was a particular Potions Master you were looking for, so it all went over your head. After a few moments you managed to escape from the conversation that had been built around the right to use the Felix Felixis at the Ministry's work, to get yourself a glass of alcohol from the buffet.

The taste of alcohol eased your nerves, rejoicing in the moment of calm you just gave yourself after all the attention you received. But the moment was short.

“Miss Y/f/n. How fortuitous to find you here." A voice commented sarcastically on your presence at the bar.

There was no need to look up at the person speaking to you because you already knew who he was. His deep voice was like a melody, a music composed by the finest musicians of this world. How, Merlin, you truly missed it…

“Professor Snape- Hum, or should I say Severus now that we are colleagues?” You answered him a little too smoothly for your taste, One drink and my anger is already forgotten? I need to get my act together!

“Snape will do, we are not direct colleagues. Let's keep some formality.” He replied somewhat distantly. Ouch- Years did not seem to have quieted the hatred he had against you.

You had not yet looked up to him, postponing the moment when you would be blessed with his physical presence. But you could see from the corner of your eye that he was pouring himself a shot glass of what seemed to be a fire whiskey.

"I must say that I am surprised that the award was given to you tonight... However, it would be wrong not to congratulate you." Severus began slowly, as if preventing himself from saying too much. “But…”

“But?” Your voice cut him off, a mixture of excitement and sheer joy at the thought of receiving praise from your dear Professor. This special praise you had been longing for.

"But-” He sighed as if you had annoyed him, “I object to the fact that my teachings have led you to produce such a grotesque Potion."

If your eyes had been glued to your glass since the beginning of the conversation fearing to feel butterflies in your stomach at the sight of Severus, you suddenly raised them, eyes wide with surprise. And in your stomach, anger. How dare he humiliate my work like that?

However, you were at a loss for words. He hadn't changed at all, he hadn't even made the effort to wear another suit for the event. He remained the same man as when you left him. Your eyes fell on his face, he had a neutral expression, as if his hurtful words were the most well-deserved ones. His eyes were on you, but because of the dim light and his dark pupils it was impossible for you to discern any judgement within. Otherwise, his hair was still the same length, falling gently over his shoulders, soft… His hooked nose made him look sterner than ever, and the crease between his over-frowned eyebrows did not seem to have increased.

He was still the same man, the one you were so fond of, and that made it more difficult.

But it was as if you two had evolved in two different time spaces. It had only been two years since you left Hogwarts, and it was certain that the occasional times you ran into a former classmate, they all had trouble recognising you. Obviously, you have grown in maturity through your work. You were no longer a young girl, you were a woman, a lady, with stature and respect. You were even certain that if your name wasn't mentioned at your prize-giving, Severus wouldn't have known who you are.

"A grotesque potion?” You took back his words, insulted, “You know perfectly well all the work that lies behind it. I explained it in a briefing for the association. You must have read it, right?" You tried to hide the irritation in your voice.

"I read it, of course. And although I must admit that it was all a tremendous amount of hard work... All these efforts, for such a clownish result, is disappointing."

You couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief. You were supposed to be the one to get your revenge tonight. And here you are, in the shoes of the student you used to be in your last year, being jeered for your hard work. His words were harsh, and perhaps because they came from your professor, they hurt you badly.

"The mere fact that I am the one who taught you everything is even more terrible." He added nonchalantly, bringing his glass to his lips.

You remained quiet, thinking of all the things you could say to him. After all, he was no longer your instructor, Severus no longer had superiority over you. What can he do now, if I snapped at him? Expel me from Hogwarts? Perhaps, it was the moment for you to confess everything that was weighing on your heart. How his coldness and distance had made you miserable.

"I thought it was only fair to thank you in my speech." You retorted, "But as far as I can see, you don't even want to be associated with me anymore, even as a mere tutor. Your hatred of me, I don't know where it comes from, but it's all unfair. This was supposed to be my special night. But now you've ruined it.” You hesitated before speaking again, “Like you’ve ruined my seventh year at Hogwarts."

Severus’ face remained as neutral as ever, but in his posture you felt a kind of irritation, he was caught off guard by your curt reply. Well, he must understand that I won't take his nastiness easily anymore.

However, you took no pleasure in giving him this answer. You had imagined many scenarios about your reunion... You had hoped that he would apologise, show that he felt sorry for having been cold to you, and in the more realistic scenario simply shake your hand, congratulate you and that was it. In no way, had you expected that he would remain so hostile.

A heavy silence fell between the two of you. His lack of response bothered you further, so you grabbed your glass and finished it straight down. "I'm going to get some air, if anyone is looking for me." Your voice was less angry, as your throat tightened dangerously, poised to burst into tears and it was slightly audible. It was a disaster.

You took your trophy with great care, the only thing that gave you comfort, and left without even bowing to Severus. You were never going to see him again in your life anyway.

The evening of the association for Potions makers of Great Britain (or simply those with an interest for the discipline), was held in the large manor house of the current Chairman. After escaping from the hall where the main event was taking place, you looked for a way out to the garden. Your heels clicked on the marble floor, echoing in the various empty corridors. The laughter and voices of the party began to fade with each step you took.

You were getting away from these jealous and condescending people and above all, from Severus. Good, you didn't feel like crying miserably in front of everyone. Your hopes were already destroyed, your ego wasn't going to be the next crime. After a moment, you spotted a windowed door leading to the backyard and quickly rushed to open it, taking a deep breath of air in desperation.

Stepping out completely, you were pleasantly surprised to discover the lovely atmosphere. The garden was well tended with bushes of various flowers and the grass was green and healthy, while lanterns lightened the path leading to the depths of the garden. You were caught up in the sense of peace and quiet that it gave you, feeling much more comfortable on your own.

It was summer, late August, school was beginning soon, work was about to restart and the merchants would soon be back in business. But it was already late, the moon was already high in the sky, almost full, and the stars shone brightly in the country sky away from London's city lights. The air was a bit fresh, but cold enough to get your mind back in order without freezing in your evening gown, which was quite revealing… But still elegant and pretty.

Venturing into the garden you finally found a bench to settle down on and think about what just happened, alone. Your eyes lifted to the magnificent starry sky before you, and its darkness made you think of Severus... The way his pupils were fixed on you, the image replayed in your mind... Over and over. You wanted to despise him for his behaviour, he had broken your heart! Not to feed your already distracted mind with lusty thoughts. Did he, at least, appreciate the sight of me in this dress? Your mind began to wander in a dangerous area, and you needed to stop right now.

Severus had been nothing but spiteful, he hadn't changed for sure, whether it was physically or mentally. And yet... You couldn't hate him in the slightest. It all seemed wrong on his part, as if he was forcing himself. Pushing you away.

You sighed, it was truly a disaster, you were frustrated with Severus, with yourself. Tonight was about revenge, moving on was the main mission and now you were fantasising all over again, like the flame of your love had been rekindled.

A tear rolled down your cheek from sheer frustration, disappointment in yourself. Then one tear broke into a silent cry. Were you doomed to love a man you will never see again, who is out of reach and seems to be loathing you? Put like this, it was as if you enjoyed suffering.

Now, you had no desire to return to the house with the other members, the possibility of running into Snape again and worsening your mental state, made you dread the prospect. Great, he had won and definitely broken your heart.

It was decided, you were going to stay there, with your trophy in your arms and with a bit of luck you will be able to leave unnoticed by floo powder. The plan seemed reasonable.

But fate seemed to have decided otherwise.

You jumped when you heard someone cough to get your attention. You were so deep in thought, your eyes fixed on the sky, that you didn't hear anyone approaching you. Your little moment of peace had been ruined, and you frowned as your eyes fell on the culprit. Severus’ brooding silhouette in the darkness of the garden lived up to his Hogwarts reputation as a bat.

You sniffed, "What are you doing here? Go away. You've already hurt me enough, there's no need to make it worse, I heard your nasty comments once already." In your pathetic state you asked Severus rather rudely to leave.

There was a small silence before it was broken by his voice, "Are you crying?"

You couldn't make out his face, so you concluded that he couldn't see yours either. You hesitated between telling the truth or lying before answering, “Why do you care…?” Your voice was weak, in no way hiding the truth.

“I asked you a question, Y/n” He persisted.

Hearing his voice pronounce your first name, as he used to do when you were in private conversation, made you weak in the knees, much more than you would have liked to acknowledge.

"I, hum... Yes." You replied, sobbing quietly. Resistance will only make things worse.

"It's a wonder you've managed to make a respectable place for yourself in the business, with such a weak mind." But unlike earlier his voice was gentler, firm, but gentle. "I've talked a bit with some of your fellow peers, people who have been around you for the past few years. Supporting you in carrying out your work… Believing in this project of yours.” He paused for another moment.

You didn't know what he was getting at, confusion all over your face. The people you had surrounded yourself with for work were not in attendance tonight. They were mostly former students just like yourself, who had attended the advanced Potions class. If they were absent tonight it is because in their research of Potions, unlike you, they had not managed to produce a viable solution.

In the darkness, you discerned him taking his place beside you on the bench. The warmth of his body spreading over your arm, allows you to evaluate how close you were to each other. And the answer was easy, very close. You could smell the light scent of his fragrance, a bit musky, the bare skin of your arm was grazing against the thick fabric of his frock coat, and it was a miracle that he was still able to breathe under all those layers in this warm weather. You noticed that it was the first time he was so close to you, usually he would keep his distance. His desk or the potions station had always been a well-respected barrier between the two of you. And thus, it made you a bit timid.

"Well, talking…” He spoke sarcastically to rectify himself, “I’ve exchanged letters with them. Checking on my former students, those you are working with now. Ensuring that everything was going well for you." He emphasised the last part of his sentence.

And Severus doesn't need to amplify his words, for you to understand what he was implying secretly.

Severus had checked on you, taking news through his letters over the past two years.

Each of his words hit you straight in the heart, making it pound faster each time. You thanked Merlin for the obscurity, because between your tears that must have drenched your makeup and the crimson spreading over your cheeks, the sight must be pretty dramatic.

"Why didn't you send an owl directly to me?" Your voice was still weak, but your tears had ceased. You ran your delicate hand over your cheeks to remove the remaining tears.

You heard Severus sigh quietly at your question. It took him a while to answer, as if he was tortured to answer honestly or lying, hesitating in the same way you did a few moments ago with his question. “It’s complicated.” Severus opted to be vague, "In any case, I've got nothing but praise for your work or even your person... They like you just the same as they did back at Hogwarts."

You didn't know if your mind was playing tricks on you by wanting to romanticise everything, but in his voice there was a faint hint of nostalgia. Severus' note brought a smile to your lips, "I'm glad to hear that, I appreciate them as well. At least they're not hypocrites like everyone else tonight..." Your honesty seemed to catch what sounded like a quiet chuckle from your former Professor.

"I must grant you, Y/n... That my words were harsh against you." Severus' voice regained its usual firm tone, "But I must confess, that such a potion, with such utility, surprises me coming from you."

That was what you guessed, his form of apology, and you accepted the way it was. "It is true that in my youth I never showed any interest in Healing Potions. What interested me the most were Poisons... But Amortentia is a poison like any other, in its own way, and research can lead us to expand our minds, can't they?” The fact that Severus knew perfectly your preferences in the area, made it easier to explain. "And then, with hindsight, I'm proud that my invention helps people, rather than killing them."

Severus nodded quietly, indicating that he fully understood the meaning of your words, as you had hoped he would. He seemed to remember all the information you had told him about yourself three years ago. That made you more than happy.

“‘Sweet juice’, that's how you named it?” He spoke with sarcasm, gently mocking.

It was your turn to sweetly chuckle, “No! I had originally named it 'Aquae dulcis', from the Latin ‘peaceful liquid’... But for the promotion, I was advised to change the name to a more sales-oriented one, which would fit better with my image as a lady.”

"I was wondering why the name doesn't match you… I've got my answer." He sounded somewhat relieved, "Many people have mentioned the taste." Severus sounded less reticent over your Potion, it was even if he was aware of the feedbacks that were provided in order to boost the pre-sales.

"Ah- yes, the taste... That's what gives the potion its reputation for being arousing." You sighed a little embarrassed to talk about this with him, “Unlike many Potions, with a disgusting taste… Mine is sweet. The liquid drips slowly down the throat, the taste hooked up everyone wishing to take it. The feeling is strange to describe, and actually I can’t… Like a flame, it all burns, it all gets on, the throat-burning sensation is taboo.” You added the last part of your sentence in a whisper due to the embarrassing nature of your language. It sounded sexual, you must admit.

Again there was silence and you wished you hadn't said what you revealed about this special taste, fearing that you had gone too far and brought your former teacher into equal discomfort.

But he answered with an unexpected thought, “I’m curious about the experience.” You caught your breath surprised, not even realising that you had stopped for a moment out of fear, "No potions so far have managed to ease my nerves. The Draught of Peace made me feel like I was too tired to continue working properly, so I stopped years ago. And if there's one time when I'm extremely irritable, it's at work, or when I'm grading papers… Especially when I grade the papers.” It was as if Severus was 'justifying' himself for wishing to try it. But deep down, some peace would only do him good.

"Only a few drops then, otherwise you'll regret the tiredness you got from the Draught of Peace when you'll feel aroused during your teaching." Even yourself was surprised by the bold words you used.

Thankfully Severus took less time to answer than last time, "Of course. I'll be careful. I'll give you a personal feedback on my impressions over the next few days following the start of term."

"Send the owl directly to me this time, it would be unfortunate if anyone found out you had an 'uncomfortable issue' because of my Potion." You laughed softly, clearly more comfortable around him. You were both adults now, fellow colleagues in the Potions discipline, you have the right to tease him about the unwanted side effects.

Well, unwanted for Severus’ case. You knew that many were looking forward to taking bigger doses... Precisely to get horny.

“I will Y/n,” He answered in a tone that seemed to be almost as amused.

“So… You want it, you want some Sweet Juice?” You ask him, hardly believing that you were asking Severus Snape, your cold former professor, if he wanted a stash of your own (arousing) Potion.

"If you don't mind, as it will only be sold on the mid-September market, if I understand correctly. I will, of course, pay for anything you may want to send me." He firmly says,

You shook your head sharply, "Absolutely not, I'll send you these for free as a thank-you. And before school starts, so everything will be ready for you to face those annoying and incompetent first years."

Severus sighs, a mixture of exasperation and relief. Exasperation because you were strict about him not paying you for anything, relief at the idea of finally having a solution to calm his tense nerves. “Stubborn as ever, I see. You may have changed physically, mentally you’re still the same.”

His little statement had the power to make your cheeks even more flushed. So he noticed that I had changed… That I’m now a lady. “Thank you, I guess?” You had no idea how to reply to that.

"That's a compliment.” He clarified for you, “You are, indeed, now… Excuse my choice of words- a pretty woman. But besides your appearance, you are blossoming in what you always dreamed of, with a remarkable career start. It's a good thing you've kept parts of yourself intact, fame must not go to your head. But you are a reasonable lady, I know everything will be fine." It was Severus' turn to be a bit awkward with his words.

His compliment went straight to your heart and seemed to soothe all the pain you had felt over the last few years. However, in his tone, Severus sounded as if he wanted to keep his words strictly formal, as he had always done even in your deepest discussions in the past.

"Thank you Severu- Hm, Snape.” You hated how easy it was for you to say his first name, when he had just corrected you a few moments before. However, he didn't correct you this time, letting that minor error slide.

You indulged in the peaceful silence that settled between the two of you. The way the conversation had progressed was comparable to the ones you had in the past, if not more comfortable. Two enthusiasts discussing about their favourite subject, trying to understand each other's opinion with respect and interest. Obviously, a formal one, Severus always maintains his distance from you, as if he was always your Professor and couldn't afford to be more. Your hopes were not high on a potential romance with Severus, he was older, your former teacher, mysterious… In the end you know nothing about the man and his job was keeping him busy all year long. However, a friend would be a good start… A rather affordable hope.

In the end, when Severus opted not to act cold, it was as if there hadn't been a rupture in your relationship. The chemistry had returned back in a flash. It made you bitterly regret those three lost years... Besides, you still had no idea of the exact nature of his past harsh attitude. Maybe even tonight was just an exception and the question will never be answered.

However, if Severus ever decided, as he had suggested with his impressions, to exchange letters, perhaps with time you would find the courage to ask him. Now, it would be a bad idea and would ruin the calm atmosphere.

"Maybe it's time to get back to the party..." Severus offered, his voice not exactly enthusiastic about joining the festivities again as well, "The others will wonder when they notice our absence."

“Right, It would be unfortunate if they started to wonder about our connection..." You laughed lightly, mocking his constant worry about being paired with you. Severus huffed, outraged.

He stood up, and in the half-light you saw him offering his arm to you, like a gentleman. You took it without hesitation, linking yours to his.

"It's been pleasing tonight…” You spoke quietly, as Severus escorted you back into the manor.

He inhaled shakily before answering, "Yes, I agree. And hearing from you, - personally - is always preferable. I hope this will last in your future letters."

You smiled at his words, "Obviously, Severus." There was a deep fondness evident in your voice. This time you couldn't help it, saying his first name felt right, and he didn't correct you either.

The October leaves had just fallen, the soft light with its morning rays of sunshine was reaching into your office. The scenery was quiet, peaceful even. And even though you had no reason to be in your office this early, you were waiting for a special occurrence.

Sweet Juice' had been on the market for almost a month, at various shops in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, and sales were more than encouraging. In fact, it was a real success. Some minor stock-outs caused even a panic among the sellers when they couldn't satisfy their demanding customers. Everyone was talking about the benefits of your Potion, and how it changed their life.

The money you received was considerable, allowing you to take a break. After two years of hard work, you deserved it. And a new solution cannot be invented that easily anyway. So your days were pretty uneventful, sometimes you were occupied with checking in with the producer, the one you had trusted enough to share the secrets of your mixture, and the sales. Otherwise, most of your days were spent taking care of yourself, enjoying life and, above all, waiting for Severus' letters.

Currently in your hands, the last letter you received, already dated from the previous week. The other letters, which numbered five, were neatly folded and kept in the first drawer of your desk. Severus' handwriting was as elegant and delicate as ever, and you took great comfort in receiving them. The content was kept formal, but somewhat ‘casual’ or ‘friendly’. Which was a good development.

The letters were quite brief and mostly structured the same way. Severus would write about his thoughts on Potions, then about his days at Hogwarts, and finally he would reply directly to the contents of the letter he had just received, making his comments on your daily life.

In each of his answers, you could tell that he was making the effort to maintain the relationship despite the distance. When the first correspondence started, you were quite surprised to see his owl on your windowsill within less than a week. You were pleasantly surprised, expecting to receive a response within a relatively long delay. To be honest, you weren't expecting this much from him, because you know how occupied he is.

Your eyes lingered on the contents of the one you held in your hands.

Dear Y/n,

Thank you for the new batch of Potions you have sent me.

I would like to use it sparingly, addiction would be regrettable. So I take precautions, even though the peaceful effect it brings me is always efficient. Being able to sleep properly is, I must confess, a luxury I had not enjoyed until recently. And it's all thanks to you.

I would say my days at Hogwarts are bearable. Work is draining, as always.

I hadn’t found a moment to read the book you recommended. I will try to make up for it before my next answer.

However, I am glad to hear that you are taking the time to have a break. Don't worry if the days can be boring, and you miss work, you need it. Do not become like me, please.

Yours faithfully,

Severus Snape,

You had lost count, you must have read the contents of the letter ten times already. In fact, every letter you received from Severus was read more than once. It was a forbidden pleasure, but seeing his words specifically directed at you, gives you butterflies in your insides.

But, you put your mind at rest with the fact that they were just letters and nothing more. It was less severe than when you were seeing him daily, in your student days. It was impossible for Severus to even guess the depth of your feelings towards him, when the only contact the two of you had was a piece of paper and a few words. You weren't likely to offend him or make him feel uneasy with your feelings towards him. So you were living your affection for this man to the fullest in the privacy of your own home.

Leaning back in your desk chair, while your mind wandered over Hogwarts’ dungeon bat, you heard a tiny clatter against your window. Looking up, a sweet smile came to your lips. Your hands folded the current letter you were reading, folding it carefully and storing it away before standing up to retrieve the new one you had been expecting.

Severus' owl was just like him, black plumage, piercing eyes. The only thing they did not have in common was their sweetness. When you opened your window, you were immediately greeted by a warm hooting.

“Hey, I hope the journey wasn't too long.” Your voice was almost too mellow for just an owl, and your hand gently stroked the top of its head as you greeted back. With a smile, you carefully untied the letter from its grasp. Once done, you put the envelope on your desk and collected grains to feed the owl. The owl pecked into the palm of your hand, now used to this small ritual. A hoot of gratitude indicated that the mission was accomplished.

"Return safely to Hogwarts." With a last small pat, you gazed at the black owl as it flew off into the distance, back to its owner.

Returning to your desk, you opened the envelope carefully and unfolded it. You were surprised to see that the content was longer than usual, twice as long. You didn't remember that your previous answer was that interesting to deserve such a detailed reply... Thus, you hurried to read it.

Dear Y/n,

I fear I haven't kept my promise.

I think I underestimated the side effects of your Potion, and this past week I've ‘suffered’ the consequences. A few drops was the dose I set myself to respect every night before going to bed, following your advice and the instructions for its use. Alas, after a particularly difficult day, I wanted to experiment with a higher dosage. I don't need to tell you in detail what it did to me, I think you've already guessed…

But I must, at least, keep our initial agreement, so if you don't object I will give you a report on this new experience. For the sake of the profession.

The usual few drops prevented me from being able to experience in its fullest, the unique taste of the potion's effects. And I must say congratulations, never in my life have I tasted anything so sweet. The description you gave me a few months ago has stayed in my mind since, and I must say that you were right, nothing can describe how it feels. Heaven? Maybe. On that night, I reached heaven.

I was starving, I was out of control (or so I thought). I was almost unable to bear it, and then, it was time to awaken the sleeping madness in me...

The hardest part is, I can't blame the Potion. It's almost cruel, but as you said, unlike with Amortentia, I had full power over my body, I wasn't intoxicated or bewitched. I succumbed to my impulses on my own. And… It feels good.

This followed, of my own accord, a kind of addiction. The nights prior to this uneventful ‘accident’ I made a habit of taking these larger doses, for my own pleasure… Thus, I would conclude the entire experience to be more than enjoyable.

In the future, I will try to find a balance to avoid abusing what is more than good. For the time being, I'm still enjoying myself.

However, even if your potion is a miracle, it does not take away all the work I need to complete.

And I must say, a thought came to my mind. In fact, Dumbledore was the one who suggested it to me years ago. And even if I was reluctant to the idea at first... The prospect feels less unpleasant if you are the one taking on this duty.

Not wishing to interfere with your precious break, would you like to be my occasional assistant?

You have the right to refuse, I wouldn't blame you.

If the answer is positive, the first period I would wish to ask for your help would be mid-November, before the first exams. And that's for a few weeks, maybe for two, more or less.

Naturally, you'll be welcomed at Hogwarts with all the necessities, a private chamber and a paycheck. But I'll give you the details in due time.

In any case, I will respect your decision and will look forward to receiving your answer, as I always do.

Yours faithfully,

Severus Snape,

PS: I trust you to keep this information confidential.

Your eyes frantically scan the contents of the letter, there is a lot to take in. Your cheeks were flushed, your heart was pounding, the first major piece of information was that Severus was using your potion for his own sexual needs. And while you detected some reserve in his wording, he had admitted it without shame in that letter. You would never have thought Severus capable of speaking in such a way (at least, towards you), even if his words were formal, they were nonetheless heavy with meaning and bold.

You couldn't help it, your mind perfectly pictured Severus. At night, alone, under the pleasurable effect of the Potion. In your fantasy, his face was focused, his eyebrows a bit furrowed, some sweat rolling down his forehead because of the heat. A few strands of his hair would fall into his eyes, but his attention was so focused on the intense pleasure he was experiencing that he couldn't care less. Was he the type to moan? Or to remain silent? Or… Maybe the cravings were so powerful that he would bite his lip to keep quiet.

At first, his hands would temptingly wander down his body, slowly, carefully, intoxicated by the rising pleasure. Touching himself was a pleasant torture, and as he said himself in the letter, he was unable to stop. Knowing how the potion would affect his senses, his skin must feel sensitive, leaving burning trails with every brush of his fingers over every inch of his skin, over all erogenous parts of his body, making him lose his mind.

The way Severus’ hands would desperately clutched his already erected manhood, dripping precum with impatience, hoping to reach an orgasm, maybe even one or several. Seeking frantically for friction to satiate his craving, his hips bucked, his hand tightening to increase the contact pressure. The sight must be sumptuous.

You wondered, for a moment, about the thoughts Severus might have to stimulate his mind. Was the Potion working enough to turn him on? Or was he seeking greater satisfaction with some dirty images? This left you with a real question. And you realised that even after all this time, you knew many things about him, but not at all in such an intimate setting. Which made sense, since most of the time you were his student... The first glimpse you had of this point was the letter.

And, you're the only one who knows his nightly routine. He trusted you, beyond the fact that you were the creator of the Potion who helped him satisfy his lusts. The mere idea to be in the confidence of this secret, made your knickers wet.

And even though it was already a lot to process, this was not the only exciting news. Severus asked you, himself, to be his assistant. He even suggested it, because the idea of working with you sounded appealing. You. Of all people, he thought about you.

You didn't question it, it was decided the moment the information reached your brain. You were going to accept. And how could you turn down the offer when the mysterious and reserved Severus Snape admitted on his own, that he was eagerly expecting your letters…

After years of longing to feel that special feeling again, in one letter Severus had given you a lot.

Returning to Hogwarts was a hope you never thought imaginable. However, a week ago you arrived with a suitcase packed, ready to work. The stone corridors, the moving stairs and even the staff had remained the same. The only change was that instead of sitting at your house table for dinner, you were now placed between Flitwick and Snape. And of course, that most of your time was spent in the dark, damp dungeons of the School brewing Potions, or grading papers.

Unlike what many might think, working alongside Severus was much more manageable than they might have thought. In any case, with you, he trusted your work enough not to question it. In fact, when you arrived, you were quite worried when you saw the dark circles under his eyes, which were more prominent than you used to remember. And when you became his assistant, you understood why. Severus was a perfectionist, and his teaching methods were all tailored to ensure the success of his students. So your tasks were simple, like preparing the exams, the basics for the Potions that were going to be taught, correcting papers, arranging the ingredients... And while you were just assisting him, within a few days he had managed to find more rest. Something that made you feel better.

Apart from that, the working conditions were quiet and calm. Severus was conversing with you during the simplest of tasks, he didn't seem as tight as usual (in private, at least), what you guessed were the effects of your Potion. At times, it was simply work performed in a comfortable silence. But between you, there was no longer any sign of discomfort or coldness. It was as if it had never happened, actually.

Well, until today.

"I wonder..." Severus began his sentence thoughtfully, his eyes focused on the cauldron in front of him, his hands busy chopping up ingredients, "How I used to find time to work and talk to you, back then."

You had a similar task, but unlike him you looked up in surprise. Severus rarely mentioned the past between you, or even the letters you had exchanged the past month. "I don't know either... That's why you stopped in my seventh grade, right?"

You didn't particularly want to mention the subject that had become nearly forbidden with time, namely your cold war. But you felt that under the current circumstances, you were old and mature enough to take it on yourself. Even though you might never get any solid answers about his past behaviour.

“Y/n, we both know that’s not the truth.”

Your eyes were still fixed on him, and you didn't know if Severus was too focused on his Potion to realise the implication of his words, or if he really wanted to discuss the issue once and for all. But you weren't going to miss your chance, trying to summon all your courage. "Oh- Really? Those are the excuses you gave me, would you like to tell me the truth then?" You answered casually, trying to play it cool despite your racing heart. Years of seeking the answer, it was as if what haunted you most was finally going to be removed.

However, the answer did not come as easily as the conversation had started, Severus stopped in his tracks and raised his head to you. His expression was hesitant, or perplexed, you didn't really know. "It was best for us to stop there, that's the real reason." He replies vaguely, his eyes fixed on your face where you stand across the Potion station.

You frowned, you were an adult now, you could handle and accept the truth. Severus, on the other hand, was being vague, as if putting a finger on what had happened was forbidden. "Are you implying that in our professional discussions, we were going down the wrong path?" You didn't want to tempt him, but getting the truth out of Severus' mouth was more complicated than you expected.

"Our discussions were nothing professional." He sounded a bit irritated with himself, indeed, the subject was sensitive on both sides. He put a lid on his Potion and dried his hands with a cloth, "We're done for the day, you can leave me." He waved you off, putting an end to the conversation.

But you stayed in your place, it was as if your feet were frozen to the ground, you couldn't leave. "You are the one who started the conversation. Don't be angry with me." Your voice was quite composed, you weren't afraid to face him. And just like at the event, he seemed stunned by your tone of voice.

You put the tools down and placed a lid on the Potion in the same way he had just done. "You cannot cut off the discussion and asked me to leave, Severus. You don't know how I've suffered my entire last year because of this, because of you. You can at least look me in the eye and give me a proper answer.” You sighed, as he tried to keep his eyes from looking at you. Perhaps because of guilt.

"Severus, we can sort this out, and go back to the way things were. But I need an answer, to move on. To be free of this guilt. Did I do something wrong? Was I bothering you so much? Tell me…" You hated how your voice was almost begging. But with every word you said, you could feel it, it was like he was re-building that distance between you. You didn't want to lose him, not that quickly.

"Severus... Please." You finally decided to move, taking a step towards him, the atmosphere in the classroom had totally changed. But even if the tension was heavy, you weren't going to abandon him, not this time. He did not move as you approached him, however, his face was tense. You hadn't seen him this cold in a while.

"I can't answer you. Things wouldn't be the same after that.” His voice was harsh, but not offensive. He sounded frustrated with himself, “But… If you want an answer, I must admit I'm not sufficiently secure to reveal my past intentions."

His words were odd, leaving you confused. The enigma that was Severus Snape was impossible to understand no matter how much time you were spending by his side. Can he give me an answer or not?

Several times your mouth opened in an attempt to answer, but nothing came to your mind. The problem seemed to be stuck. It left you upset. "I... I want an answer." Your words were both hesitant and confident, the statement was, frankly, a bit silly.

This seemed to amuse Severus, who laughed silently in mockery, warming the atmosphere. “Why are you so…” He paused for a moment as if hesitating, then at last he gave in, "Endearing?”

His words slammed into your heart, leaving you baffled. But you didn't have time to answer, Severus resumed speaking just as soon, "But, if I can manage to calm myself, maybe I'll be able to talk to you. Does that please you, Y/n?"

You hesitated, understanding what Severus was implying behind those words, 'relaxing' meant taking a few drops of Sweet Juice. And as much as you wanted to keep a respectful image of Severus, the last words written in his letter about its use stayed in the back of your mind. But, how can I refuse?

"Fine.” You agreed, nodding slowly.

Severus seemed somewhat reassured by your agreement, the walls he was starting to build around himself to push you away, were falling down again. It was his turn to approach you, offering his arm. A habit he'd adopted with every walk you shared at Hogwarts. You took his arm, the gesture had become natural, Severus added, "Follow me."

With that, you walked after him. Severus led you, in the utmost silence. Your heart was pounding, you didn't know exactly what to expect. The path he was taking, staying in the dungeons of the school, made you realise that he was inviting you into his personal quarters, which did not help your state of mind. Every step you made, was a step towards the possible truth.

Your recent exchange had been unclear, Severus was just as confused by his attitude as you were, you could tell with the look on his face. Torture between two separate decisions: to hate you back or accept what was happening between you two.

Still in silence, Severus finally arrived, unlocked the door to his quarters and let you in first. It was the first time you had entered, and the surroundings seemed oddly familiar. Everything reflected Severus, with its dark tones and simple, yet elegant furnishings. Your eyes rest on the many books, all meticulously arranged, and then, a little farther away, on the bed. It was impossible to miss the three vials filled with the purple liquid that you had conceived yourself, one of them was nearly empty. The sight of Sweet Juice beside his bed only made your heart flutter, as if it was confirmation that everything he had described to you was, indeed, true.

"Well, sit on the sofa. I'm coming up with what's needed." Severus breaks the silence as he removes his cloak, stopping your dirty thoughts dead in their tracks.

"Yes, of course." You nodded, quite flustered, and you did what you were asked as you sat down on the couch, next to the fireplace and the bookcases. Your eyes followed Severus' actions as he made his way to his bed, lighting the fireplace with his wand as he passed.

He came back with a new bottle of Sweet Juice in his hands, and sat without discomfort at your side. "Do you use it daily as well?" He asked you, an undeniable curiosity in his voice.

"Um... No, I just tested it on myself a while ago before I submitted the notice. I have no use for it." You looked at him blankly, you didn't know what Severus was trying to find out with his question, "So, it was only for professional purposes." You added rather quickly, in case he wondered if you too were finding sexual satisfaction through its use.

"Well, this will be the occasion to taste it again then." His hands opened the bottle carefully, and with some skill showing how familiar he was with its use.

You looked at him, confused by his words, "I don't intend to take it, you said you were the one who needed it to speak honestly."

"I think it's wiser for you to take it, to learn the truth. I don't want you to get mad at me." He replied with his calm voice, "Don't you trust me?" He raised an eyebrow with his usual expertise in the motion.

Of course you trusted him, the question didn't have to be asked. And right now, with all the tension in your body from the pressure of the whole situation, you had to agree. He was right, it was wiser if the both of you were in the same state to discuss. "Fine, but only a few drops..."

Severus nodded, "A few drops will be more than enough."

You reached for the vial, but Severus placed his hand on your chin before you could get your hands on it, and directed your face in his direction. “Open your mouth, please Y/n.”

His eyes were fixed on you, you felt like melting under his gaze, so intense was it. You couldn't ignore the intimate intensity of the situation, your cheeks were starting to burn. The scenario was far more pleasant than anything you could have imagined in your dirtiest dreams.

Without even adding anything, you parted your lips for him. Severus seemed satisfied with your willingness, and put the eyedropper to let a few drops fall from it. A promise he kept. And even though it was only a few drops, the taste burned in your throat, taking effect as soon as it was swallowed. It was addictive, sweet… Divine. A tickling sensation settled in your body, you felt perfectly fine, as if your body had never felt any tension.

Severus watched your every reaction, his hand still on your chin, you felt like your skin was burning under his fingers, "Well. You seem to be reacting well."

He withdrew his hand and this gesture left you with a feeling of need. Your eyes never left him for a second as you watched him perform the same operation with himself. His previously tense face, softened in an instant. To have Severus so effortlessly relaxed was quite an exclusive sight. He trusted you enough to be so vulnerable without shame, in front of you. It made you smile.

"Y/n, I've been intending to talk to you about this for a while, it weighs on me just as much. I'm sorry for the way I acted," Severus began quietly.

Hearing him apologise was strange, he was such a proud man. It made you happy, because while he was under the effect of the potion, he was still aware of what he was doing or saying. He was not controlled by the Potion, in front of you there was a sincere and apologetic Severus. One of the many facets you were starting to find out about this very mysterious man.

"I apologise as well, I wasn't always straightforward." You matched his gentle tone,

Severus shook his head, "You were not the problem, I handled the situation very poorly. It's all my fault, I hurt you." He put his hand over his face, ashamed, "When, in fact, that's all I wanted to avoid... It haunted me, until I saw you again a few months ago. I wanted redemption, to make sure you were fine without me... But, I’m selfish as I am taking a role in your life again,” He sighed hopelessly, “There's still this guilt in me.”

Hearing Severus speak with such regret, made your heart grow fonder for the man, you couldn't fault him. He had suffered the same pain from his choices, he acted in order not to lose his teaching position, in order to not deprive you of a possible 'happy' life. And even if the Potion worked miracles, guilt and pain couldn't be erased. You wanted to reassure him, to remove this pain from him, to leave it in the past. "Severus, I only wish to understand what I did wrong..." You whispered, your eyes focused on the buttons that fastened his cutaway coat.

The more minutes passed, the more the Potion worked through your body. The sensation was odd, like a kind of ache, but it was unmistakably delightful. This only served to reinforce your self-consciousness about the situation, your body tickled everywhere, straining, trembling, longing to be close to him.

"You have done nothing wrong... As the days went by, my regard for you changed. Your radiant smile, the way your eyes brighten at my every word, the way your perfume intoxicates me when it stays in the classroom, your delicate hands working with agility... All of this, I should never have noticed, and yet, I couldn't help but feel captivated. Charmed because of what you were, and still are, in fact."

He slowly pulled his hand away from his face. But, you didn't want to leave him in his demise, so you laid your hand on his as he lowered it, encouraging him to continue. "I wasn't blind, I knew the feeling you held for me. I believed it was for the benefit of the both of us. But after rejecting you, I was terribly missing you. Inside me, it built up a terrible guilt…” He paused for a moment before concluding, “And without realising it, I was feeling the same way about you."

Severus gently takes your hand in his, as if you were a delicate flower, or would disappear at any moment. His gaze is now focussed on both your joined hands, "Since, I haven't stopped thinking about you, night and day. Seeing you again... Was a breath of hope, I thought impossible. And even though you sounded different, like you were angry with me, I couldn't help but appreciate you. I soon realised that despite all my efforts, pushing you away a second time was beyond me... Beyond my strength."

He intertwined his fingers with yours, "You can hate me, yell at me. I hurt you and yet, selfishly you're here with me, instead of enjoying what life has to give you. I’m older, grim, and stern. I don't deserve you."

As he confessed, what you were focused on, was the heavy pounding of your heart ringing in your ears. The intensity of his emotions was heartbreaking, as you listened to him.

Your body's reaction to his was overwhelming, everything seemed like a raging fire that neither of you wanted to quench. The sensation of his own skin against yours only made it burn harder, leaving you with an insatiable urge of need and want. Your body knew what it wanted, the heat started to build up in the lower part of your stomach.

"I- Severus… I'm sorry that I was angry with you, when you were trying to do the right thing. I had no idea how you might be feeling on your own. But today, everything has changed, I’m not your student anymore.” You spoke with all the determination you could muster to prove him wrong, “And I don't care what life has to offer, if you are older. I know what I want. And it’s you.”

“It's only been a few weeks since I've been back with you, and I've never felt so happy. I feel alive.” Your cheeks flushed hot at your blunt words, “And to be honest, the club, the award, Sweet Juice, I did it all, to get your attention. I wanted to be special to you again."

"Come," Severus uttered in a deep, rumbling voice. His hand, the one that was already holding you, pulled you towards him, and his other hand guided your hips as he gently settled you on his lap, straddling him. The way your body easily accepted his request, was a reflection of how much you wanted to be with him, to be close to him.

"I wanted to move on, to forget you, but it was impossible. But nowadays, as I am closer to you..." Your eyes fell on his face, Severus seemed to be listening to you with such intensity, that coupled with this sudden intimacy caused you to speak in a shaky breath, "I burn and my body is feeling new things, and the intensity is only growing, nearly out of control. I can't think anymore, you're always on my mind…- I just want to be close to you, like I've always hoped." Your voice died down near the end, admitting your deepest thoughts. You were nervous, the aching sensation started to get on your nerves, overflowing with desire for the man in front of you.

His hands gripped your clothes, as if to remind you that he was indeed there, by your side. You were taken aback by the violent wave of emotions that flashed through his eyes. Severus had said nothing after your own confession, but there was no need for him to speak in order for you to understand. His eyes were speaking for him. Need, lust, desperation, want, longing- And most strikingly, love. His hands clasped your face, leaving you no choice but to lock your eyes with his. You couldn't escape the impact of his emotions, of the intense waves crashing over you nearly suffocating you. And the truth is, you had no desire to avoid him.

It was as if time had stopped, his beautiful face, his lovely hands, the wildness in his eyes, and the way he made you feel was beyond description.

"I love you," He exhaled as his thumb stroked your cheek. It felt like a weight was being lifted from his chest,

Your fingers found his shoulders, pressing into the soft fabric of his coat, “I love you as well,” You answered, the same weight disappearing from your heart.

The affirmation of your feelings towards him seemed to ignite something new in Severus. His thumb went down to your lips, running it over them, "You know, I thought about you as my assistant not only because you're the smartest, most diligent and serious person I know to handle the task perfectly," He spoke in a low grumble that made your whole body quiver, "But also because every night as I took a stronger dose of that delicious elixir you conceived, I always find myself thinking about you. I found satisfaction only when I thought of you.”

He sighs, "I must admit that if you're here, it's also because I couldn't bear to keep all this to myself, I had to confess. I wanted to see you again, terribly."

“I’m here Severus, I’m here for you and only you.” You replied hurriedly in order to reassure him.

He took a deep breath, your words seemed to have reached his heart, "Maybe it's a bit premature, but I should ask you."

It sent a ripple of delight through your entire body, increasing the desperation you had to be against him, “What do you want to ask me, Severus?”

Your question, perhaps somewhat naive given the situation, brought a smile to his lips, “Would you like to make love with me?” The question was phrased extremely graciously, contrasting dramatically with the ferocity of his eyes.

Your body shivered under his powerful stare. Your reply was obvious, and yet in the warmth of his body, in the puddle of intensity that Severus was bathing you in, you were at a loss for words. He looked at you like a hunter ready to chase down his prey, your consent was all he needed for him to pounce on you. It should have worried you, but behind his raging stare were years of self-restraint and pain. You felt more than special, being loved by such a cold and distant man made you feel like you were the only one in this wide world, the one and only for him.

You couldn't make him wait any longer, it was torture for him as much as it was for you. So you nodded, silently at first, then you found the courage to finally voice your need, "Yes, Severus, I do."

He smiled again, it was a delightful sight to see Severus smiling, and you took a moment to observe him as if to commit the image to memory. It was so infrequent, that you were pleased to know that you were the only one to be blessed by it. He was perfect, you could do nothing but kiss him. Passionately, freely, desperately. There was nothing anymore to stop you from doing it. You tasted him, setting all your senses on fire. You licked the inside of his mouth, as his tongue linked with yours in an intoxicating dance that only the both of you seemed to know. The scent and taste of him captured all your senses, and you couldn't stop humming with delight as it resonated through your chest from the pleasure of kissing him.

In that first kiss, you feel it all.

Both of his hands clasped your face tightly to keep you close to him as your hands trailed through his long hair, down to his neck. The warmth that radiated from him made your flesh flush, your heart pounding so hard in your chest that even Severus should be able to feel it. He tasted like heaven.

He skillfully guides you, allowing you to get lost in his adoration. One hand gently grasped your throat, while his other hand travelled from your cheek over your neck, down to your waist where his arm snaked around to press your body against his in a secure embrace.

Severus didn't break the kiss, as he stood up, carrying you in his arms. Your eyes were closed, allowing you to get completely absorbed in the feverish kiss, but you knew he was heading for his bed. The next moment, your body found its place against the soft fabric of his sheets, enveloping you once again in his wonderful manly scent. Wrecking you, in the most pleasing ways possible.

You moaned into his mouth as your fingers tugged his hair a bit tighter, Severus growled at your action, searing your whole being from you body to your soul. You were desperate for more, to see him, to touch him, to feel him. Your clothes were simply a suffocating barrier that separated you from Severus. Your irritation didn't seem to escape Severus as he broke off the feverish kiss you two were sharing.

You finally opened your eyes, to be greeted by a dishevelled and flushed Severus. You were both out of breath, panting. However, he was quick to lay another kiss on the exposed skin of your throat. Sweetly, lovingly, small kisses from the tip of his lips teasing you, all dripping with desire.

"Love, you're perfect," He hummed against your neck as he gently nuzzled his nose against it to inhale your fragrance. You were like in heaven, your blood was running through your veins, your stomach transformed into butterflies out of worship for him.

His hands ran along your body, before undoing the button on your skirt. Your thighs were released quickly from the constraint that your clothes provided you as he dropped the first piece of fabric on the floor. Your hands hesitantly passed over his upper body, your fingers delicately unfasten the buttons of his coat. Once done, your hands grabbed the lapels of his coat to let it fall over his shoulders, quickly meeting your skirt on the floor.

Severus certainly was consumed by an insatiable urge, never getting enough of you. His lips never leave you, trailing against your jaw, nibbling your earlobe. His warm breath left your sensitive skin tingling with delight. Your hands were slightly trembling as you began to reach for his shirt, while his hands reached for the rest of your clothes with utmost care.

The clothes that had been a painful barrier, began to strip from your bodies, slowly, teasingly. Falling one by one on the floor. Severus leaned on his arm as he took a few steps back, your breath caught with worry and missing his warmth. His eyes roamed over your body, in an intimidating powerful manner. You had never felt so vulnerable and exposed, only covered by your underwear, his intense gaze left a heavy feeling on everything you could offer him.

However, you didn't have time to think for long when his lips captured yours. “Perfect,” He whispered as his eyes met yours. With burning cheeks, you averted your eyes. You could not hold his gaze, so much the intensity of his emotions caught your heart. His pupils were dilated, too wild, too fiery.

Your reaction left Severus laughing in a deep breath, "You really are more lovely than anything I could have imagined. My mind didn’t do you justice, love.” The gentle title he gave you made your heart beat faster, and as your hands were pressed against his chest you sensed the intense pounding of his as well. Both your hearts were beating in perfect tune.

Your hands began to undo the upper part of his shirt, releasing his neck from his stiff attire. You were still shaking, but proceeded nonetheless. There was only a layer left before you could see him as vulnerable. Severus waited, letting you take all the time you needed to finish. And the next thing you knew, you were pulling his shirt off his shoulders in the same way you'd done before.

You marvelled at the sight in front of you, your breath caught in your throat at the sheer beauty of Severus, his broad shoulders, his pale pearly skin, his strong arms were now at your total disposal. You gave yourself a moment to appreciate the one you've craved for, over the years.

"Perfect," You whispered with the same adoration he had for you, your fingers spread over his bare skin, temptingly. You were amazed at the softness of his body despite his strength, he, who held himself so rigidly in his daily life.

"Not as much as you, love," Severus left a warm kiss on your cleavage and his hands found the clasp of your bra as your hands found down his trousers. He removed the rest of his clothes at the same time as you.

Your skin was flushed, your breaths quick and uneven with anticipation. It's a good thing you had taken a few drops of Sweet Juice, otherwise you would have been a nervous wreck. This allowed you to handle the whole experience with confidence, coupled with your trust in Severus, it was pure bliss. And this must have been the case for Severus, because behind his expert strokes, he seemed a bit unsure with himself.

Your skin burned under his every touch, letting the fire spread over your skin down to your trembling, hot, insides. You were wet, swollen and soft. Severus sat on his knees, between your legs. The action left your body screaming with desperation, arching with anticipation for more, for him. Until now, you had not dared to lower your eyes to the level of his girth, but now it was time to get acquainted with what was about to enter you. Your breath was taken away at the sight of his long, veiny and erect manhood. That’s going inside of me?

"Love, I'll be gentle with you," Severus sensed your apprehension immediately, his hands gently resting on your knees to spread your legs leaving your body on high alert. He leaned forward, and placed a first kiss on your jaw, then another one on your breast, before his mouth wrapped around your already hard nipples to sweetly suck on it.

You didn't know if you'd taken a sufficiently large dose of the Potion for it to play on your sexual sensibilities, but you gasped. The feeling of his soft lips over your most forbidden body parts was exhilarating, your insides tensed. Your breasts were sensitive, responsive to every lick he gave. You were blown away by the way your body fit to him, catching his slightest touch. And as if he wasn't satisfied enough with himself, he moved his hand up from your hip, running teasingly along your skin to find your nipple, toying with it, pinching it. You couldn't help but moan, the sensation strains you again, leaving you longing for more. Your mind failed to follow, a wave of pleasure overtaking your whole body. Everything felt heightened, the sound of Severus' sharp breath, his tongue, his touch, his scent. Even the cotton of his sheets was seemingly intense.

Severus let out a long, deep growl from the back of his throat, and it made your whole body shudder. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, ready to welcome him. He understood the sign, but continued to whisper his words of adoration, of love for you. How he had dreamed of this for years, that he didn't want to be apart from you anymore. His words that met the hollow of your ear, made you feel in a whirlwind of emotions, cherished and safe. You held on to him, your arms reaching around his shoulders.

He wanted to slowly devour you, until your rational thoughts were consumed by pleasure.

“Sev,” You breathed out a long, deep moan as his finger slid inside you. You were soaking wet at this point, drenched for him. His finger stroked your insides, his thumb brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves while his lips lingered on your throat, placing numerous small kisses.

“You are perfect,” He hummed out, right by your ear, “Perfect for me,” His nose dragged along your skin, in the hope of finding a new spot to kiss. He pressed another finger into you. Your legs tightened while your insides softened further. The stretching of his fingers was astounding. “You are the only one for me, I love you,” His words shattered everything, all the common sense you had in you. You wanted him to ruin you with his love. In a manner as violent as the emotions you had for each other, giving him everything, everything you ever had.

Removing his fingers, your eyes fell on his hand as it darted back and forth between his legs. You gasped as his delicate hand folded around the girth of his manhood. "Love, I'm here. It's going to be fine. Tell me if you don't feel well, I'll stop," he hummed softly as he laid back against you, pressing his body over yours. You nodded, and his lips found yours anew.

You felt his body lowering, and the next instant, he was sinking inside you. You hissed from the pleasure that suddenly caught hold of you. There was no discomfort, no pain, your body adapted, moulded itself to him. Your body was being taken by Severus, and everything at that moment, finally being one with him, felt right.

“Look at me,” He ordered you gently, holding himself up with one arm, ready to move. When your eyes met his, you were immersed in the depth of his love. You felt calm, in heaven, as you were shaped to accommodate him. He was the only one in this world, especially when he was looking at you with such worship.

“Good,” He smiled in satisfaction when you complied. Your eyes were hypnotised by all the love he bore you. He began to draw out, slowly. And as with your skin, your insides were just as sensitive causing electricity to run through your body, sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze intensified as he began to move a bit faster, his movements always precise and well controlled, making it more intense.

Catching his breath, Severus kept praising you, “You, are, magnifi-cent,” He growled in a low tone, between thrust as you moaned out his name in a barely comprehensible manner. You find satisfaction in being filled and stroked, to be loved in such a carnal manner, it was intense, overwhelmingly intense. He was everywhere, he was everything to you.

“Sev-, Severus, I love you!” Your voice was slurred, your mind was unable to form a coherent thought, and yet you felt the urgent need to confess your love all over again. At your words, he quickened his pace and buried himself inside you, over and over.

You were consumed by him, by his love, by your love for him. You were his, and he was yours. Entirely, irrevocably, ineluctably. There was no other way. Severus was breaking everything you owned, and it felt right. With every push, with every pull, with his loving hands, with his loving words, with his hungry breath, he was breaking you.

“Please,” You pleaded for him, a moan escaping through your sore lips. His movements became powerful, irregular, hasty. As if to satisfy you as much as possible, even if he was exceeding all your wishes, pushing your mind to the edge of depravity with each of his thrusts.

“Love,” He growled in a feverish manner, as if he had been entrusted with the most valuable mission possible, to please you. He shoved in so deeply that your eyes rolled back and watered from the sensation of being nothing but completely filled. You back arched in pleasure, welcoming the emotion in its fullest.

“Awh-” You gasped as he started to pace harder, faster. Your legs were quivering from the pleasure, your lungs burned from your moans. He held onto you tighter, in order to be able to dig into you with more vigour. Over and over. It was relentless. His need for you became beyond desperate and engulfed him into the same depravity.

“I love-, you,” He moaned darkly under his gruff breath, “I can’t-” He growled this time, in a low rumbling. His movements became irregular, erratic.

You kissed his neck, inhaling his sweaty scent and the taste of his skin stirred in your mouth. “Me too-” You whispered, in a rather dark tone, meeting his love and distress at the same time.

“Y/n-!” He growled, and after a split second, you felt him growing within you, as his whole body tightened, hardened. His cock shifted faster inside you, pounding against your inner walls. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and moans his release before his movements come to a slow halt.

Ripples of heat mingled with the throbbing of muscles and the warmth of the skin inside you. You held him close and marvelled at the sensation of your orgasm, of being filled and being enough for him to reach such a fierce release. To be enough for him to love you, to be enough for him to be so intimate with you.

You caught your breath, you were in a state of pure bliss. The last waves of pleasure take over your body, making the pleasure last longer. Severus withdrew from you, leaving you with a longing that he satisfied by taking you in his arms enjoying your post-orgasm state.

He placed a kiss on your sweaty forehead as he affectionately snuggled you pressing your body against his. After the intense encounter you'd just experienced he still longed to feel your burning skin against his. “I love you,” He said it again, as if he needed to prove it to you, but you knew by now that his affection towards you was wrenching.

"I love you more," you lay your head against his chest, letting the sound of his heart lull you to sleep as it only started to calm. His soft laughter vibrated through his rib cage,

"I doubt it, love, but this is not the time to talk about it. Tomorrow is another day, a day when I can finally enjoy you without any rules or barriers," Severus sounded enthusiastic, he pulled the blanket over both of your naked bodies and took his wand to stop all sources of fire from making any light.

His uncharacteristic lively tone brings a peaceful smile to your lips, you are now the one that makes Severus eager to wake up in the morning, to carry on with his life. He was your source of happiness, and you were his.

After years of trying to understand everything between the two of you, you were now in his arms.

Peaceful.

Loved.

#severus snape #snape content #severus snape x reader #severus x reader #snape x reader #severus snape x you #fanfic

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kivino · 11 months

Note

KIVI, YOU SWEET ANGEL YOU.

can you write a price x gn!paramedic!reader where price is on leave, and maybe he gets into a car accident that isn’t too bad so he refuses to go to the hospital, but the cute paramedic keeps insisting on at least checking him out in the ambulance……….. 😋

DOUBLE VISION || JOHN 'BRAVO 0-6' PRICE X PARAMEDIC!GN!READER

Word counter – ~1.9k

Tags/Warnings – mentions of car crash, intoxication, medical examinations, fluff, first meeting, and lack of medical professionalism, lmao.

A/n – PLSS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT POOKIE, IT TOOK ME A HOT MINUTE TO GET TO THE REQUEST I’M SORRY MWAH. also credits for the name go to @mockerycrow as well, they’re a genious and have the biggest brain out of the two of us.

ao3 link for this fic

It’s always a slow process for John - getting used to the slow, civilian ways when he finally gets his leaves approved. When he spends so much time on the field, more often than not he starts to forget about “the other side” of life. Lack of noise, mundane mornings, and silent nights come and with them, the all-encompassing feeling of loneliness starts to set in his gut. John gets reminded about the lack of anyone’s presence in his life. No one is waiting for him back home, and no one will probably be any time soon, with how work takes over most of his free time. And then the captain remembers he’s not getting any younger.

Of course, he had plenty of experience and relationships before, but none of them lasted until now when his hair was already graying and wrinkles were starting to riddle his face here and there. John wasn’t insecure about his age, no, because that would be foolish, really, rather it was the fact that he had no one to share with all the years that were ahead of him.

What John also had a hard time getting used to was driving the busy streets of London with its crazy drivers after months of not getting behind the wheel, which brings him to this moment. Well, it really was on him for trying to get somewhere after happy hour in all the pubs in the area ended, he should’ve probably anticipated some drunk idiot would want to drive back home today. John wasn’t in the right headspace at the moment to fill out all the paperwork and figure out who was in the wrong. His thoughts were far away from here. Probably all the impact from the airbag and the hit.

He’s had it worse before, of course, so some bruises and scratches here and there wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. John felt some pulsing pain in his knee, making it harder to stand upright, and a bit of an ache in his neck from the whiplash, but again, it wasn’t as bad as getting thrown into the wall by an explosion or falling out of a damn helicopter.

So now he has to spend the whole evening working out things with the police and that drunk idiot who bumped into him, freezing his ass off in the rain. Just perfect. John feels a surge of annoyance and exhaustion wash over him, he pinches his brow, letting out an impatient sigh. Cops have arrived on the scene already and started examining the two collided vehicles, after putting around some traffic cones so some other lucky fellas don’t decide to join in on the fun. From his spot on the sidewalk, John can also see the paramedics, who had to get involved because as soon as cops started questioning that drunk guy, he decided to scrunch into himself and show the world all the contents of his stomach. As if it needed to get even more complicated than it already was.

“Excuse me, sir? You’re the other…driver involved in the accident?” John suddenly hears a voice, a bit on the quiet side, which brings him out of his thoughts that involve strangling somebody in a variety of different ways. And oh, his nights instantly become tens, if not thousands of times better when he sees the owner of said voice.

Judging by the identifying markings you were a paramedic, and a very cute one at that, with your dull green uniform and a big jacket on, brows tied together in a concerned expression. Oh, and your eyes, they looked absolutely lovely in the low streetlights. Price is taken aback for the moment, forgetting every word in his vocabulary. He feels his heart starting to beat faster, blood flowing through his veins so fast he’s sure if it wasn’t for the evening darkness he’d most likely resemble a tomato. But then John realizes he must say something because just staring at you would just make him seem like some old creep. And he absolutely didn’t want that.

“Yes, that would be me.” He speaks up after clearing his throat. You nod to that, attentive gaze still on him. John then adds on after a short pause, which took him to let out a deep sigh. “You need me for anything?” Anything. Something. Please.

“Just checking up.” John feels his heart melt at that small smile that grazes your lips, making it obvious you’re satisfied with his answer. “You seem to be holding up better than the other driver.” You joke in an attempt to either lighten up the mood, which John appreciates, or to calm yourself a bit. It didn’t escape him how you seemed a little shaky. It was Friday night, so today’s shift might have been rough on you. Always the Friday nights.

“Well, anyone would hold up better than that bloke.” He jokes with a bit of abandon, a low chuckle escaping his lips, as he starts to overthink himself. John suddenly feels like a dumb teenager, which is never a good sign, especially when there is someone he’s interested in right in front of him. Price feels like his laugh is too rough, stance is too relaxed and everything is just a bit too much when your eyes are on him. Oh, he’s so going to embarrass himself.

“True, but let’s not tell him that.” You give a quiet laugh and John’s worries die down a little. Not completely, but enough to let his eyes get glued to your face. “How are you feeling? Is there any abnormal pain, anything unusual or out of the ordinary?” Oh, so you’re the type to get straight to business, huh? Interesting. Price liked that. “If there’s anything wrong we’ll get you right to the hospital.” Price declined when he got asked about the hospital before by another paramedic because there was no way he was going to spend even more time out of his house because of some minor scratches. But if it meant you’ll be there, he’s calling dibs on the seat beside you in the ambulance truck, dear lord.

“My knee’s complaining a bit, love.” John can see your eyes going as big as two shiny coins when you hear that pet name, which, to be fair, slipped out completely unintentionally. However, by the way you instantly light up in another shy smile, he can tell you don’t really mind it, so his nervousness caused by this… “happy accident”, comes down again. “Some bruises, but I’m not about to hold you up because of those.”

“Oh, well, that’s alright, come with me and I can check you out…” You stutter over your words while talking a bit too quickly and once you understand what you said, an annoyed groan comes out of you. Way to embarrass yourself. “I mean, check your knee out in the ambulance, alright?” You again shoot him a smile. Which probably is in vain, since he’s a patient at the moment, and you’re at work, and that’s very much frowned upon, but what can you do? You don’t meet a man like that everywhere. He looks a bit rough around the edges, but that’s part of the charm.

“I’m sure your hands are already full with that hero of the day over there, I’m good.” What. The fuck. Are you doing. John. The only chance he gets to talk to you and he’s blowing it, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know why he said that. Maybe not to seem desperate in a very self-sabotaging way, but that’s just. Oh, John, you’re too old for playing some damn games with someone you like.

“You know what? I insist.” Your voice is lower and rougher. And when you top it off with another one of your sweet smiles and a gentle touch on his shoulder? John is a gone man. Turning into complete mush, putty, if you will. God, for this perfect smile he was ready to smash and repair every single house appliance and pipe in your house.

“Alright then. Anything for you, love, lead the way.” And you did, with your hand resting softly on his back, helping him forward. John wished you would’ve been bolder with your touch, so he could feel more than just a light graze, but still. It felt good.

And then he finds himself in the back of the ambulance truck, this cramped, tiny space making him hold his breath from being so goddamn nervous in your presence. You told him to take a seat while rummaging through some cabinets and various medical bags for something. Seemingly not finding anything that you needed you spoke up to him again.

“Okay, now let me see your knee, sir.” You mumbled while kneeling in front of him, your eyes concentrated on the man. He didn’t mind you calling him sir at all. John was so used to being called that, but right now it just spread that very pleasant warm feeling inside of him.

“Well, I’m not taking my pants off. Not without a dinner first.” Price chuckled, as he tried rolling up one of his pants legs. And, well, his statement wasn’t that far from the truth. The whole deal with examination was a bit awkward to begin with, so he didn’t want to make it even worse.

“I’ll think about it, big guy.” You chuckle, as you finally start looking at his knee, small, feather-light touches sending sparks over Price’s skin. So, you enjoyed teasing him like that, huh? In combination with that nice, sweet smile? Oh, John is sold. He definitely should you invite somewhere while he still has time on his leave. But before he can open his mouth to make a brave offer you speak up again. “Looks like you have a minor sprain in here, your knee’s all swollen. I’ll apply some elastic bandages, that you’re going to have to wear for some time and redo yourself. But overall you seem to be doing good” Price couldn’t help but feel like that last remark wasn’t about his health.

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s all fine with me, love. Do what you have to.” You only nod in response, spending some time rummaging in the cupboards once again and emerging victorious with a roll of elastic bandages in your hands. You return to your previous position in front of John, and adjust his knee with a firm hand, mumbling a quiet “Hold still, please”. Oh, he’d freeze for centuries if you had asked him to. But he does, and as you wrap the bandage around his knee, which just kept pulsing with hot pain, he couldn’t help but admire you. The trained movements, the concentrated gaze, the warm touch…Maybe he really should act on his thoughts. Maybe it’s his chance. Maybe something can work out and this accidental meeting will become…something more.

Price wanted it to become something more.

His imagination ran rampant, picturing you wearing something nice and fancy, in case you do agree on a date. John totally should not be thinking this when you were right there, finally putting some finishing touches on his knee bandaging, so he forced them out of his mind and cleared his throat. Here goes nothing. But before Price can even utter a single sound you’re already being called over by your colleague. Guess he’ll just have to wait until you’re free of your duties, huh?

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purinfelix · 8 months

Text

show me how ⊹˚. ♡

pairing: reader x spiderman!carlos sainz summary: your new neighbour is a mystery to you, and so is the masked vigilante that you've heard news of around your city - but the chances of them being related are impossible, right? warnings: none! w/c: 2.8k (i don't know how to write short fics i'm sorry)

a/n: after nearly a month away, i'm back !! most of it was bc i was on holiday but also bc I've had the worst writers block ... also i can't decide if i have horrible or amazing timing given the news abt lewis butttt its ok!!! just hope yall enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3333 (just note it might be a little rough ...)

You didn’t know that much about your neighbours.

Granted, it had only been about two months since they moved into the apartment next door and for the most part, they kept to themselves. But, during this short period, you’d managed to compile a list of facts you knew about them for no reason other than pure curiosity.

You knew they hosted quests quite often, almost once a week, which you could always tell by the loud music and banter that went on late into the night whenever they did. You knew the woman of the house was an excellent cook, having often walked past their door and caught a whiff of whatever it was she was making for dinner. You knew they were a family, quite a young one, with a son who was about your age and a student at your university. You’d spotted him around campus, often donning a pair of headphones and a hoodie that silently said “Leave me alone”. You’d yet to see him smile though, which you had initially chalked up to some remnants of teenage angst, at least until you spotted him leaving the chemistry labs with an unkempt stack of notes.

Despite these facts, your neighbours were still largely an enigma to you. And for the most part, you didn’t mind - this was New York you lived in, where not knowing much about whoever lived next door wasn’t unheard of. It wasn’t like you didn’t have anything better to do than stalk them too, considering you were swamped with university work, going into your second year as a nursing major.

This painful reminder weighed down on you as you dragged your feet through your apartment door, only managing out a tired mumble as a greeting to your parents. They didn’t seem to mind though, from their spots on the couch you couldn’t make out their faces, but you could tell they were immersed in tonight’s latest news story. The bright light of the television emitted a soft glow, and you couldn’t help but lend a listening ear as you trudged past.

“This just in, reports of a masked vigilante who has been helping the local community at night,” read out the news reporter, an image of the mentioned figure showing behind him.

You couldn’t help but let out an amused scoff as you pulled your backpack higher onto your shoulder, at how ridiculous the guy looked. Even after living here your whole life you had yet to hear anything as ridiculous as some weirdo running around in a mask at night.

Pushing open the door to your dimly lit room, you collapsed onto your bed with a soft thump. The fatigue from a long day of lectures and tutorials seemed to catch up to you as your eyelids drooped and you weakly grasped at your covers in an attempt to pull them over you. Even as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, you could faintly make out the news reporter continuing.

“People are calling this figure ‘Spiderman’, due to his red and blue suit reminiscent of the bug, The individual’s identity remains unknown though, and any persons with any information are encouraged to talk to their local police about it.”

You wake to a tapping sound. It’s quiet at first, but starts to get louder and more desperate before ultimately rousing you from your sleep, confused and disoriented. You push your hair out of your face and can just make out the time on your bedside clock, which blinks “2:34am”. Wiping a line of drool dribbling down your cheek with embarrassment, you whip your neck around to locate the source of the tapping noise.

That is, until you spot it, a shadowy figure peeking out of the corner of your window. Initially, your instinct is to scream as loud as humanely possible, but instead your body freezes you in place. Resigned to just staring at the figure with eyes wide in shock, you watch in horror, as it lifts a finger to what you assume is its mouth, signalling for you to be quiet. You bob your head to signal that you understand, and your arm springs up with a mind of its own, already reaching to open the window - although whether it’s to wave it away or let it in you aren’t entirely sure.

The decision isn’t yours to make though, since the second an opening forms in your window the figure slips its fingers in and lifts it up with ease. Before you even realise it, it’s slipped seamlessly into the bedroom, your bedroom, where it stands in place. You let out a shaky breath, your hand fumbling in the darkness for you lamp which you flick on, basking your room in a warm light and illuminating the figure in front of you in all of its red and blue glory. You feel your breath hitch in your throat.

“… Spiderman?” you gasp breathlessly, and the name sounds unreal coming from your mouth, mostly because you never thougt you’d say it out loud, ever. The figure in front of you shows no reaction though, as it moves its arm, and you flinch, only before you realise it’s reaching to pull its mask off.

First pops out a long, messy mop of dark hair, which falls over his eyes just as his mask falls to the ground. Bringing up a hand, he brushed his locks out of the way to reveal a familiar face.

You’re rendered speechless, unable to do anything but let out a confused huff as you take in the features of your neighbour. Instinctively, your hand reaches out to grasp his shoulder, almost as if to make sure he’s real and not just a figment of a really really strange dream. It’s almost too much for you to wrap your head around, until he steps closer to you, further into the light, and you notice a rip in his suit not far from where your hand is, spanning from his shoulder to the centre of his chest.

You take a step back, and realise its one of many rips, some revealing gaping wounds and sores. In the light you can also notice his chest, the way it’s heaving, and the exhausted look on his face.

“Look, I’ll answer all your questions later, I just,” he pauses to chew on his bottom lip and to catch his breath, “I need your help.”

You try not to think too much about how deep his voice sounds, compared to what you expected, having never heard it before, and focus on the issue at hand. You’re inclined to do the normal thing, to turn him away, to tell this stranger to get the hell out of your room, but the desperation in his tone causes you to nod.

“Sit down,” you order, already turning to grab the first aid kit you keep on your desk. Behind you, you hear him let out a tired sigh as he sits on the edge of your bed, which groans under his weight. Kit in hand, you pull up your desk chair and scoot as close to him as you can get. It doesn’t occur to you to worry about just how close you are to your neighbour, who at this distance you’re slowly realising is a lot more attractive than you’ve ever realised, since you’re too busy worrying over his wounds.

You go through the familiar motions you’ve learnt, even with your preliminary nursing knowledge, first wetting a cotton ball with antiseptic to clean up the gory mess he’s made of himself. As soon as the cotton makes contact with his skin though, he lets out a hiss of pain, causing you to shrink back and look up at him with concern.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sternly, although the way his eye avoids yours hints at embarrassment more than anything. You try your best to work quickly, or as quickly as you can with a patient that keeps wriggling out of your touch. It occurs to you though, that this might be the best time to get some answers to your questions.

Okay, so,” you say, once you’ve finally managed to clean up all his wounds and can get to patching them up, “I think I’m owed an explanation.”

“What is there to explain?” he says, and for a moment he sounds genuinely confused - as if he’s the one who has the right to be confused in this situation - but this gives way to more of a shy tone, “I’m Spiderman, that’s all there is to it.”

“That’s all there is?” you scoff, pulling out big wads of gauze from your kit, “you don’t just become a masked vigilante overnight, tell me from the start.”

“Well actually, I kinda did,” he lets out a soft laugh, and you’re taken aback by the fact that it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him actually smile, “I got bitten by a spider one day and when I woke up the next, I had all these powers.”

“Like?”

“I mean, for one I can shoot webs.”

“What like, from your-”

“No, from my wrists,” he shuts down your question hurriedly before carrying on, “I can also stick to walls, and I have these weird tingles that tell me when things are wrong.”

“Okay,” you say, drawing out the end of your word to show that you don’t entirely believe him. “And this has been going on for, how long?”

“About a month.”

“A month?” you exclaim in shock. “What, so you’ve managed being a chemistry major on top of, being,” you pause, searching for the right word to describe what he is, “a superhero?”

“Well, it isn’t easy but- wait, how did you know I’m a chemistry major?” he leans closer to you, trying to catch your eye with a small smirk tugging at his lips, “have you been stalking me?”

“Hey, it’s not like that okay?” you mutter defensively, “You’re my neighbour, so it’s only normal I’d notice you around campus and stuff.” Avoiding his eye, you press down on a bandaid a little too hard, causing him to draw in a sharp breath, and for you to quickly apologise.

“Anyways, I’m the one asking the questions here okay?” You huff in flustered exasperation, before pausing for a bit, “Why did you come to me anyways?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said, motioning to his injuries.

”I mean, yes, but why me? Wouldn’t you much rather your mum or dad do this instead of me?”

He’s quiet for a while, and he can’t bring himself to look at you when he speaks again.

”My, uhm, my parents don’t know about this,” he mumbles.

“Then, a sibling? A friend? Someone you actually know?”

Silence once more, only this time you’re the one to break it.

“No one knows?”

He nods. “No one except for you now.”

The weight of this realisation weighs down on your shoulders like a pile of bricks and you have to pull yourself back from the wound you’re tending to to let it sink in. Here he is, your neighbour, the Spiderman, revealing his identity to you and you only. For the first time that evening, you realise how truly vulnerable the man sitting on your bed has allowed himself to be with you and you can’t help but feel your heart flutter, as well as beat at the immense amount of pressure you know have to deal with.

“Plus, I don’t think any of them would know how to fix me up as good as a nursing student,” he adds, still avoiding your eye, but trying his best to lighten the mood. You let him.

“Oh, and I’m the stalker?”

He avoids your question. “Are you done yet?”

“Almost, one more.”

He watches you work with a quiet, resigned expression, almost fascinated with how quickly you’ve managed to tape down the gauze and conceal his wounds. You lean back to look at your work with a proud smile, closing up your kit and going to put it away.

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s the most earnest he’s sounded all night.

“Don’t sweat it, it’s not like I could turn you away in the state you’re in.” You’re trying your best to maintain a casual composure about this whole situation, even if it means being slightly awkward.

“Good point,” he chuckles, rubbing his nape sheepishly, “well, I better get going.” He’s already reaching out to slide your window up but you stop him by holding out your hand.

“Hold on, you really think you’re going to be able to climb back into your room after that? Your injuries are far too serious, you need to rest first.”

He’s a little taken aback, “For how long?”

“I’d say, at least until the end of the night.”

“If you wanted me to stay over, you could’ve just asked,” he says slyly, and for the second time that night you’re caught off guard.

“Wh- don’t be stupid, I’m the nursing student, and that’s just my professional opinion!”

“Whatever you say doc,” you catch him scanning the room once more, “but uhm, where exactly will I sleep?”

“Oh, you can take the bed, I’ve slept on the floor plenty of times.”

“Now you’re the one being stupid, this is your room, I’ll take the floor,” he insists.

You’re still unconvinced, but you can tell he’s too tired to argue with you and decide to let him win.

“Fine,” you say, the word more a sigh than anything. He looks at you, eyes soft with gratitude and you can’t help but feel a strange pang in your chest at the sight. “Let me get you a blanket at least.”

You turn around to gather a few blankets and a pillow from your closet, which you make into a makeshift bed on the floor, and he watches you the whole time, his gaze heavy on your back. When you’re done, you stand up and dust off your hands before gesturing for him to lay in it. As he does, you climb back into your own bed.

There’s a short silence filled with nothing but the rustling of blankets as the two of you get comfortable, and some soft grunts of discomfort from where he is on the floor. Finally though, the two of you lay still.

“Good night, Spiderman,” you say, forcing a lightness in your voice that you don’t quite feel given the night’s events. You’re half expecting him not to respond, but when he does you can hear the smile in his voice, even though you can’t see him.

“Carlos.”

“Huh?”

“My name, it’s Carlos. You don’t need to call me Spiderman, at least, not now.”

“Oh, right,” you feel almost bad that it sounds like you’re making a mockery of him, and you can feel an apology forming in your mouth before he speaks again.

“Goodnight, doc,” he hums, before turning off the lamp on your desk. Your room is once again plunged into darkness, and you’re left to stare up at the ceiling, and try your best to sleep despite the millions of thoughts buzzing around in your mind.

You wake again, only this time it’s to the sound of birds chirping outside of your window and the first rays of morning sun slipping through it. You blink lazily, stretching out before forcing yourself to sit up.

The first thing you notice is the absence. The floor is empty, the makeshift bed gone and instead a pile of neatly folded blankets takes its place. There’s no sign that anyone else had been in your room, let alone Spiderman.

You peer outside your window, as if looking for a trace of him, evidence that the previous night had been more than just a weird dream, but find nothing. Instead the city wakes up with you, peoples bustling about, cars honking, just like any other day. It still feels surreal, and part of you is ready to label it a dream and move on, but you know better. You remember the desperation in his voice, the tenderness in his eyes, the wounds you had tended to.

Out of the corner of your eye though, you catch sight of a yellow sticky note balanced carefully on top of the pile of blankets. Slowly you climb out of your bed and read it, the letters ‘IOU’ scrawled in a lettering that is definitely not your handwriting. It might not be much, but it’s all the confirmation you need as you whisper a silent prayer for his safety, his health, and for the two of you to cross paths once more.

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz oneshot #carlos sainz jr #cs55 #ferrari #formula one #carlos sainz fanfic #formula one fanfic #f1 #purinfelix #jet writes ★#spiderman au

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nyxshadowhawk · 4 months

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A Retrospective on Harry Potter

Why did I like it in the first place? What about it worked? Where do I go from here?

I have decided to give up Harry Potter.

J.K. Rowling’s reputation now stinks to high heaven. At this point, she is quite indefensible. And even if that weren’t the case, she is not someone that I would want to associate with anyway. Meanwhile, the internet has not only turned against her, but against Harry Potter itself. An innocent question on Reddit, about which Hogwarts Houses the ATLA characters would be in, got downvoted to oblivion. Innumerable Tumblr threads insist that fantasy fans should get into literally anything else (suggestions include Discworld, Earthsea, The Wheel of Time, and Percy Jackson). And now that Harry Potter is no longer a sacred cow, there has been a recent slew of video essays that rip it to shreds, attacking it for its poor worldbuilding, unoriginality, and the problematic ideas baked into the original books (like the whole SPEW thing), etc. Those criticisms always existed, but now they’re getting thrown into the limelight.

It pains me to see such an ignoble downfall of Harry Potter’s reputation. If Rowling had just kept her damn mouth shut, Harry Potter would have aged gracefully, becoming a beloved children’s classic. I'd still plan to introduce it to my own kids one day (after Rowling dies and the dust settles). It’s not surprising that not all aspects of it have aged well, since it’s been more than twenty years since its original publishing date, and everything starts to show its age after that long. I acknowledge that most of the criticisms of the series that I’ve seen lately are valid, and I’ve read plenty of better books. And yet, when I return to the books themselves, even with the knowledge of who JKR really is inside my head, I still really enjoy reading them! There’s still a lot about them that I think works!

None of the other things I’ve read have had as collossal of an impact upon my identity, my values, and my own writing as Harry Potter. It’s hard to move on from it, not just because it’s something I enjoy, but because I have to literally extract my identity from it. I don’t know who I’d be without Harry Potter. I don’t know what my work would look like without Harry Potter. I don’t know how to carry it with me as just another piece of media that I like, as opposed to a filter for who I am as a person. So, with all that in mind, I have to ask myself why I liked Harry Potter so much in the first place. If I’m going to move on from it, then I have to be able to define and isolate the things about it that I want to keep with me. Something about it obviously worked, on a massive scale. So what was it?

It’s not the worldbuilding. The worldbuilding is objectively quite terrible, especially in comparison to that of other fantasy writers who knew what they were doing. At best, it’s inconsistent and poorly thought-out, and at worst it’s insensitive or even racist. Is it the characters? The characters are, in my opinion, one of the stronger parts of the story. But I felt very called-out by one of the many online commentators, who said that anyone who identifies with Harry is too cowardly to write self-insert fic. (I do not remember who said it or even which site it was on, but I distinctly remember the phrase, “Reject Harry Potter, embrace Y/N.”) The reason why people get so invested in Harry Potter’s characters is because they’re easy to project upon, and it’s possible that my love of Harry comes more from over a decade’s worth of projection than anything else. The incessant arguments over characters like Snape, Dumbledore, and James Potter ultimately stem from the fact that these characters do not always come across the way Rowling wanted them to. As for the writing itself, it’s decent, but not spectacular. Harry Potter is something of a sandbox world, with less substance than it appears to have and a crapton of missed opportunities, making it ripe for fanfic. For more than ten years, I’ve been doing precisely that — using Harry Potter as a jumping-off point to fill in the gaps and develop my own ideas, some of which became my original projects.

So what does Harry Potter actually have that sets it apart? Why are people so desperate to be part of Harry Potter’s world if the worldbuilding is bad? What, specifically, is so compelling about it? I think that there’s one answer, one thing that is at the center of Potter-mania, and that has been the underlying drive of my love of it for the past decade and a half: the vibe.

Harry Potter’s vibe is immaculate.

You know what I mean, right? It’s not actually a product of any specific trope, but rather a series of aesthetic elements: The wizarding school in a grand castle, with its pointed windows and torches and suits of armor, ghosts and talking portraits and moving staircases, its Great Hall with floating candles and a ceiling that looks like the night sky, its hundreds of magically-concealed secret doorways. Dumbledore’s Office, behind the gryphon statue, with armillary spheres in every single shot. Deliberate archaisms that evoke the Middle Ages without going as far as a Ren Faire: characters wearing heavy robes, writing with quills and ink on parchment instead of paper, drinking from goblets, decorating with tapestries. Owls, cats, toads. Cauldrons simmering in a dungeon laboratory. Shelves piled with dusty tomes, scrolls, glass vials, crystal balls, hourglasses. Magical candy shaped like insects and amphibians. A library with a restricted section. A forbidden forest full of unicorns and werewolves. That is the Vibe.

There are five armillary spheres just in this shot. They are unequivocally the most Wizard of tabletop decor.

There’s more to it than just the aesthetic, though. The vibe is present in something that writers call soft worldbuilding.

There’s a phrase that writers use to describe magic systems, coined by Brandon Sanderson: hard magic and soft magic. Sanderson’s first law of magic is, “An author’s ability to solve problems with magic is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic.” A hard magic system has clearly-defined rules — you know where magic comes from, how it works and under which conditions, how the characters can use it, and what its limitations are. Examples of really good hard magic systems include Avatar: The Last Airbender and Fullmetal Alchemist. If the audience doesn’t understand the conditions under which magic can work, then using magic to get out of any kind of scrape risks feeling like the writer pulled something out of their ass. It begs the question, “Well, if they could do that, then why didn’t they do that before?”

You may come away from that thinking that having clearly-defined rules is always better worldbuilding than not having them, but this isn’t the case. Soft magic isn’t fully explained to the audience, but that doesn’t matter, because it isn’t trying to solve problems — its purpose is to be evocative. Soft magic enhances the atmosphere of a world by creating a sense of wonder. If your everyman protagonist is constantly running into cool magical shit that they don’t understand, then the world feels like it teems with magic, magic that is greater and more powerful than they know, leaving lots of secrets to uncover. Harry Potter, at least in the early books, excels at this. The soft magic in Harry Potter is what got me hooked, and I think it’s what a lot of other people liked about it, too.

The essence of soft magic is best summed up by this scene in the fourth film, in which Harry enters the Weasleys’ tiny tent at the Quidditch World Cup, only to find that it’s much bigger on the inside. His reaction is to smile and say, “I love magic.”

That’s it. That’s the essence of it. You don’t need to know the exact spell that makes the tent bigger on the inside. You don’t need to know how Dumbledore can make the food appear on the table with a flick of a wand, or how he can make a bunch of poofy sleeping bags appear with another flick. You don’t need to know how and why the portraits or wizard cards move. You don’t need to know how wizards can appear and disappear on a whim, or what the Deluminator is, or where the Sword of Gryffindor came from. You don’t need to know how the Room of Requirement works. Knowing these things defeats the purpose. It kills the vibe, that vibe being that there is a large and wondrous magical world around you that will always have more to discover.

One of the best “soft magic” moments in the books comes early in Philosopher’s Stone, when Harry is trying to navigate Hogwarts for the first time:

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk. —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 8

Many of these details don’t come back later in the series, which is a shame, because this one paragraph is super evocative! It establishes Hogwarts as an inherently magical place, in which the very architecture doesn’t conform to normal rules. Hogwarts seems like it would be exciting to explore (assuming you weren’t late for class), and it gets even better when you learn about all the secret rooms and passages. The games capitalized on this by building all the secret rooms behind bookcases, mirrors, illusory walls, etc. into the game world, and rewarding you for finding them. The utter fascination that produces is hard to overstate.

Another one of the most evocative moments in the first book is when Harry sees Diagon Alley for the first time, after passing through the magically sealed brick wall (the mechanics of which, again, are never explained). This is your first proper glimpse at the wizarding world and what it has to offer:

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, “Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad....” A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon.... —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 5

What works so well here is the magical weirdness of wizardishness juxtaposed against normalcy. Eeylops Owl Emporium is just a pet shop to wizards. A woman makes a very mundane complaint about the price of goods, but the goods happen to be dragon liver. Broomsticks are treated like cars. All of these small moments contribute to the feeling of the wizarding world being alive, inhabited, and also magical. It gets you to ask the question of what your life would be like if you were a wizard. What do wizards wear? What do they eat? What do they haggle over and complain about? What do they do for fun?

In Book 3, Harry enjoys Diagon Alley for a few weeks when he suddenly has free time, and we get to experience the wizarding world in a state of “normalcy,” when he isn’t trying to save the world. He gets free ice creams from Florean Fortescue, gazes longingly at the Firebolt, and engages with delightfully weird people. He’s a wizard, living a (briefly) normal wizard life among other wizards in wizard-land. And that is fun. It’s so fun, that people want that experience for themselves, enough for there to be several theme parks and other immersive experiences dedicated to recreating the world of Harry Potter.

One of the greatest things about Universal was its phenomenal attention to detail. You can hear Moaning Myrtle’s voice in the women’s bathroom, and only the women’s bathroom. The walls of the Three Broomsticks have shadows of a broom sweeping by itself and an owl flying projected against the wall, so convincingly that you’ll do a double take when you see it. Knockturn Alley is down a little secret tunnel off of the main street, and that’s where you have to go to buy Dark Arts-themed stuff. It’s really well done.

Another thing that contributes to the vibe, in my opinion, is that the wizarding world is slightly macabre. They eat candy shaped like frogs, flies, mice, and so forth, and they have gross-tasting jellybeans. In the film’s version of the Diagon Alley sequence above, there’s a random shot of a pet bat available for purchase. In the third film, when Harry is practicing the Patronus Charm with Lupin, the candles are shaped like human spines. In the first book, this is Petunia’s description of Lily’s behavior after she became a witch:

Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school, and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 4

I remember reading this for the first time, and it just kind of made intuitive sense to me. I suppose it fits into the “eye of newt and toe of frog” association between magical people and gross things, but somehow it works. Unfortunately, this is retconned later with the knowledge that wizards can’t use magic outside school, but before that limitation gets imposed, the idea of Lily amusing herself by turning teacups into rats seems like an inherently witchy thing to do.

That association between magic and the macabre shows up elsewhere, as well. In The Owl House, Luz’s interest in gross things is one of the things that marks her as a “weirdo” in the real world. When she goes to the magical world of the Boiling Isles, weird and gross stuff is absolutely everywhere. That world’s vibe leans more towards the macabre than the whimsical, but it works because you sort of expect the gross stuff to exist alongside the concept of witches, and that they would be an intrinsic part of the world they inhabit. You don’t question it, because it’s part of the vibe.

(The Owl House is one of the few things I’ve encountered that has a similar vibe to Harry Potter, but it’s still not the same vibe. In fact, The Owl House outright mocks the expectation that magical worlds be whimsical, and directly mocks Harry Potter more than once. The overall vibe is much closer to Gravity Falls.)

The Harry Potter films utilize a lot of similar soft worldbuilding with the background details, especially in the early films that were still brightly-colored and whimsical. For example, the scene in Flourish and Blotts in the second film has impossibly-stacked piles of books and old-timey looking signs describing their subjects, which include things like “Celestial Studies” and “Unicorns.” When Harry arrives in the Burrow in the same film, one of the first things he sees is dishes washing themselves and knitting needles working by themselves, taking completely mundane things and instantly establishing them as magical. In that Patronus scene with Harry and Lupin, the spine-candles and a bunch of random orbs (and the obligatory giant armillary sphere) float around in the background. One small detail that I personally appreciate is the designs on the walls above the teacher’s table in the Great Hall, which are from an alchemical manuscript called the Ripley Scroll:

It’s all these little things that add up to produce The Vibe.

Obviously, much of the vibe is expressed very well in John Williams’ score for the first three Harry Potter films. The mystical minor key of the main theme, the tinkly glockenspiel, the strings, the rising and falling notes that mimic the fluttering of an owl, the flight of a broomstick, or the waving of a wand. That initial shot of the castle across the lake as the orchestra swells, as the children arrive at their wizarding school:

If you grew up with Harry Potter, just looking at this image gives you The Vibe. The nostalgia hit is definitely part of it, but The Vibe was already there, back when you were a child and you didn’t have nostalgia yet.

In my opinion, only Williams’ score captures this vibe — the later films, though their scores are very good, do not. But the soundtrack of the first two video games, by Jeremy Soule (the same person who did Skyrim) absolutely nails it. This, right here, is Harry Potter’s vibe, condensed and distilled:

youtube

This is why I feel invalidated by the common advice “just read another book.” I have read other books. I’ve read plenty of other books, many of which are wonderfully written and have left an impact on me. But there’s still only one Harry Potter. To date, there’s only other book that has filled me with a similarly intense longing for a fictional place, and that is The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. That book deliberately prioritized atmosphere over everything else in the story, and actually lampshades this in-universe. The Night Circus has a plot and it has characters, but it’s not about its plot or characters. It’s about the setting and its atmosphere. It swallows you up and transports you to a fictional place that is so evocative and so magical that you just have to be part of it or you’ll die. And even then, The Night Circus has a different kind of vibe from Harry Potter. In this particular capacity, there’s nothing else like Harry Potter.

The thing is, I don’t think Rowling was being as deliberate as Erin Morgenstern. (In fact, given many of Rowling’s recent statements, I question how many of her creative choices were deliberated at all.) She was throwing random magical stuff into the background without thinking too hard about it, which works when you’re writing a kids’ story, but stops working when you try to age it up. Actually, scratch that — soft worldbuilding is definitely not just for kids! The Lord of the Rings has a soft magic system, for crying out loud, and Tolkien is the original archmage of worldbuilding. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you that prioritizing atmosphere over meticulousness is bad worldbuilding. That is a valid way to worldbuild! Not everything needs to be clearly explained, not everything needs to make sense. The problem is that Harry Potter doesn’t balance it well. Certain things do have to be explained in order for the magic to play an active role in the story (and the setting of a magic school lends itself to that kind of explanation), but no rules are ever established for the kinds of magic that need rules. When you begin thinking about the rules, you’re no longer just enjoying the magic for what it is. At worst, you begin running up against the Willing Suspension of Disbelief.

It wasn’t actually the “aging up” of the story that did it in, per se, but rather, the introduction of realism. The early books were heavily stylized, and the later books were less so. A heavily stylized story can more easily maintain the Willing Suspension of Disbelief. That’s why, for example, you don’t ask why the characters are singing in a musical — you just sort of accept the story’s outlandish internal logic, and the inherent melodrama of it doesn’t take you out of the story. Stylized stories are more concerned with being emotionally consistent over being logically consistent. The later Harry Potter books changed their emotional tone, but without changing the worldbuilding style to compensate.

In addition to the more mature themes and darker tone, Harry Potter introduced more realism as it went, but Rowling did not have the worldbuilding chops to pull this off. There’s the basic magic system stuff: When you begin thinking about it too hard, something like a Time-Turner stops being a fun magical device, and starts threatening to break the entire story. Then there’s the characters: Dumbledore leaving Harry on the Dursleys’ doorstep in the first book is an age-old fairy tale trope that goes unquestioned, but with the introduction of realism in the later books, it suddenly becomes abandonment of a child to an abusive family. The exaggerated stereotypes of characters like the Dursleys become tone-deaf. The fun school rivalry of the House system is suddenly lacking in nuance. And then there’s the shift in tone: The wizarding world that we were introduced to as a marvellous place is revealed to be dystopian. You start thinking about how impractical things like owl messengers are, you start wondering if Slytherin is being unjustly punished, the bad history appears glaringly obvious, the quaint archaisms become dangerously regressive. Oh, and the grand feasts are made through slave labor! The wizarding world suddenly feels small and backward instead of grand and marvellous. J.K. Rowling’s bigotry throws it all into an even harsher light.

This is why I’ve always preferred the early books and films to the later ones. There’s a lot of things I like about the later ones, but they’re not as stylized — they don’t have The Vibe. Thinking about things too hard is just a necessary condition of adulthood, but it’s still possible to tell a dark, mature story that is highly stylized. I really think JKR could have better pulled off that shift if she was a more competent worldbuilder. But it is painfully obvious that she did not think things through, and probably didn’t understand why she had to. In her defense, she did not know that her story would end up being one of the most scrutinized of all time. As it stands, her strength in worldbuilding was in the softer, smaller, deliberately unexplained moments of magic that were there just to provide atmosphere. And there were less and less of those as the books went along.

Pretty much all the Harry Potter-related content released since the last film — including Cursed Child, Fantastic Beasts, Hogwarts Mystery, Hogwarts Legacy, Magic Awakened, and that short-lived Pokemon Go thing — have been unsuccessful attempts at recreating The Vibe. In fact, the only piece of supplemental Potter content that I think had that Vibe down pat was the original Pottermore, back when it was more of an interactive game. And of course that got axed. That was right around the time things started going downhill.

Some of the art from Pottermore’s original Sorting quiz.

So what now? Well, that’s the question.

I think I can safely say that The Vibe was the reason I liked Harry Potter. It’s the thing I still like the most about it. I’ve spent years chasing it, like an elusive Patronus through a dark wood. If I can capture and distill that Vibe, and use drops of it in my own work, then perhaps I won’t need Harry Potter anymore.

I'm gonna write the story that I wish Harry Potter was, and when I'm a famous author, I won't become a bigot. I'll see you on the other side.

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corroded-hellfire · 2 years

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You Belong With Me - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: modern!au. Eddie is dating Chrissy, but she’s making him miserable. What would it take for him to notice that he’d be better off with you? Based on the Taylor Swift song.

Note: Oh, so many thoughts about this one. I’ve never been a big fan of song fics, but this song just screamed this dynamic at me and wouldn’t let me rest until I wrote it. And it physically hurt me to write Chrissy as the “bad guy” because I just adore her and Grace so much. But for the fic, it had to be done. Lastly, I literally stayed up all night to write this so I apologize if my sleeplessness caused any more errors than usual.

Warnings: modern!au, language, sex jokes, mention of gun, I think that’s it?

Words: 8.7k

“But that’s not what I meant. No, no, I- Babe, it was a joke. It wasn’t about you! You know I don’t like basketball game- Yes, I’m coming. Of course. I’m sorry, okay? Like I said, it was a joke- Okay. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you there. Okay. Bye.”

Eddie tosses his phone down on your bed and rubs his hands over his face. You sit up near your pillows, wincing through the whole phone call. Eddie getting frustrated like this was becoming far too common for your liking.

“You okay, Eds?” He isn’t, but you’re not sure if he’ll want to talk about it or not.

“Fine,” he says. He has to know you don’t believe him, but he also knows you won’t push him. He climbs on your bed, leaning against your footboard.

“I made a stupid joke,” he says. “I said something about watching a basketball game being like watching a goldfish swim around in its bowl. You’re just looking back and forth at the same thing the whole time!”

It’s not the appropriate time, but you can’t help but laugh. “It’s true, though.”

“Thank you!” he says. “It was a dumb joke but somehow Chrissy took that as me saying I hated going to see her cheer. Is it my favorite thing to do? No. But I do it because she’s my girlfriend.”

You nod your head at him, not sure what you could say. There are a million things you want to say. Break up with her. She’s not good enough for you. I’ve been in love with you for years, you doofus. But none of that would help him. It’d only stress him out even more, which was the last thing you wanted to do.

“I swear, the only saving grace at those God-awful games is that you’re there with me. If I didn’t have you to make snide comments with, I don’t think I’d be able to stomach it,” he says.

It should make you feel better, you think. But in reality, it just makes you want to smack him on the back of the head and say, “then what does that tell you, dumbass? Spending time with me is better!”

“We’re going to the game tonight, I’m assuming,” you say. It’s a Tuesday so there wasn’t a Hellfire meeting, which was the only acceptable reason, according to Chrissy, that Eddie could miss a game. Even those, she wasn’t thrilled he skipped games for.

“Don’t have much of a choice,” Eddie mumbles, picking at his rings. He looks up and meets your eyes. “I mean, you do, though. You don’t have to come with me.”

And make him do this alone? You couldn’t. Even if you had to sit there and pretend not to see Eddie watching Chrissy, or just pretend to not see Chrissy in general. It was never a choice for you if there was an opportunity to spend it with Eddie. You’d stand blindly by his side, supporting him however you could.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy,” you tell him.

He smiles and tosses one of your stuffed bears at you. “Like I’d ever want to get rid of you.”

Looking into his eyes suddenly makes you feel like you could cry, so you jump off your bed and head over to your Bluetooth speaker.

“What do you say? Some Ozzy?” you ask.

Eddie groans and drops his head forward. “God, I wish I could stay and listen. I’ve got two deals before the game tonight, though. I’ve gotta head out.”

You pout and press play on the machine anyway. Ozzy Osborne was not what was queued up next, however. The acoustics of a Taylor Swift song start to play into the space of your bedroom.

Eddie groans again, louder this time. You stop the music and start to skip through the shuffled playlist.

“I am so tired of pop songs. It seems like that’s all that’s playing in my car lately and it’s driving me up the wall. I can listen to it sometimes, but God forbid we listen to any of my music as I’m driving around with her.”

Your pout grows as you keep your back to Eddie. You never know what to say to him when he complains about Chrissy. He wanted to date her so badly that you didn’t think anything could hurt you worse. But seeing the way she treats him? That beat all.

“I thought you didn’t even like Taylor Swift,” Eddie says. It just shows how much Chrissy must be making him listen to pop if he recognized the song by the opening chords.

“I like some of her songs,” you say, turning to face him. “Sometimes it feels like she took a page out of my diary and wrote a song about it. I love Metallica and Black Sabbath dearly, but that is something they just don’t do.”

Eddie stands up off your bed and grabs his leather jacket. He smirks at you as he slips it on. “So, what you’re saying is, Taylor Swift understands you?”

You roll your eyes at him and plop back down on your bed. “Yes, Eddie. That’s exactly what I’m saying. The pretty, millionaire singer, that’s dated all of the hottest guys in Hollywood totally gets me.”

“You sing,” Eddie says with a shrug. “In fact, I wish you did it more. How many times have I begged you to come sing with the band again?”

“It was once, I was drunk, and I’m still grateful that I don’t remember all of it,” you say.

“You were good. I’m not just saying that as your best friend, I’m saying it as a musician. You never sing around me. Why are you embarrassed to?”

The teddy bear in your lap is easier to look at than Eddie. “M’not embarrassed.”

“Oh yeah? Then why not in front of me at least? You’ve seen me puking my guts out and have taken care of me after a hangover, but you’re too shy to sing in front of me?”

“To be fair,” you say, eyes now finding Eddie’s, “you have also seen me puke and taken care of me when I had a hangover.”

“Yet I still sing in front of you.” When you don’t say anything, Eddie starts to get annoyed. “You know, I told Dustin that I wished you’d sing more, and he seemed confused because apparently you sing all the time around him.”

“That’s different!”

“How?” Now he sounds like he’s starting to get mad and it’s the last thing you want. Chrissy had already worked him up and you didn’t want to make it worse.

“You know, Dustin is always singing songs from movies and stuff. You’ve seen him and I singing Suddenly, Seymour from Little Shop of Horrors together. See? I’m not embarrassed in front of you.”

“Yeah, but you were also putting on that squeaky voice the woman has in the movie.” He sighs and takes a few steps towards your bed. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just like it when you sing.”

You look up at him and give him a small smile. “I like when you sing, too.”

“We’ll go to a karaoke club soon then,” he says with a smirk, and you’re not sure if he’s teasing or not. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll come by in a few hours to pick you up?”

“Mhmm.” He heads out of your room, but you call out for him before he can fully leave. “Eddie! Can you hit play for me? I think I got the right song up now.”

Eddie clicks the button on your Bluetooth speaker and Crazy Train starts playing, Ozzy’s maniacal laugh haunting your bedroom.

“Much better,” Eddie says over his shoulder as he walks out of your room.

After dinner with your parents, you head back up to your room. Your mom and dad assume it’s to finish your homework, but you’d finished that a little after Eddie left. Instead, you pull up your metal-only playlist and let it run on shuffle. The synthetic voice comes over your Bluetooth speaker.

“I am iron man.”

This song instantly has you reaching to turn the volume up. Black Sabbath’s iconic sound rings through your room and you jump on top of your bed. You head-bang to the opening notes, feeling more pumped up by the second. You spin around, scooping up your hairbrush from your nightstand to use as a makeshift microphone.

“Has he lost his mind? Can he see or is he blind? Can he walk at all? Or if he moves, will he fall?”

You fall to your knees on the mattress, openly air-guitaring as you sing along.

“Is he alive or dead? Has he thoughts within his head? We'll just pass him there, why should we even care?”

There’s a new voice joining in with yours this time. You slowly turn around and move the hair out of the way that’s covering your face from all your whipping it about. Eddie leans against your doorframe, arms crossed against his chest, and the biggest smile on his face that you think you’ve ever seen. You hadn’t realized how long it’s been since you’ve seen him smile like that. Months? At least.

“Enjoy the show?” you ask as you hop down from your bed.

“Very much,” he says. “Don’t stop on my account.”

You give him a playful glare as you walk over to your mirror. You use your hairbrush/pseudo microphone to get your hair out of your face and looking somewhat presentable.

“How’d the deals go?” you ask as you grab your sneakers.

“Fine. Two usuals so it was quick and painless,” he tells you as you lace up your converse.

Unlike this basketball game will be, you think to yourself.

“Save any for us to use tomorrow?”

“Well, duh. But we’ll have to go somewhere to smoke it. Wayne’s got an old army buddy coming over for dinner,” Eddie says.

“The park?” You take a look at yourself in the mirror and adjust your Iron Maiden shirt. Steve once told you that you should wear school colors to a game. You told him to find you a band t-shirt that had the God-awful orange and green of the basketball uniforms and you would.

“Park sounds good to me,” Eddie says. He pulls on your arm to yank you away from the mirror. “You look perfect, let’s go.”

Your face flushes as you follow Eddie out of your room. Both of you wave to your parents in the living room before heading outside. Climbing into Eddie’s van is second nature at this point, and you make yourself comfortable by putting your sneakered feet up on the dashboard.

Eddie starts the car and Metallica begins blaring through the air. You drum on your knees as Eddie makes the short drive to Hawkins High. Hopefully, Lucas will play tonight. Since he’s been getting better, the coach has been putting him in more. It was great to see his confidence grow.

The parking lot in front of the school is almost as crowded as it would be if school was in session. Eddie slips the van into one of the few empty spots and you both get out. The murmuring from the gym could be heard out in the parking lot. Was this an important game? Was our team doing well this year? You had no idea. You came to most, if not all, of the games, but you hardly paid attention to any of it.

The sounds of the crowd talking loudly to one another, the squeaking of sneakers on the shiny floor, and the cacophony of instruments tuning up in the band section of the bleachers smack you in the face as Eddie opens the gym door for you. You nod to him in thanks before slipping inside. He follows behind you and you wave to Nancy who is on the sidelines with other students from the school paper.

Robin waves and gives you a big smile when you walk past the school band. You blow her a kiss, and she pretends to catch it. In the middle of the bleachers there’s a small gap where you and Eddie could fit. When you get closer to it, you can see it’s empty because Max, Dustin, and Mike have their feet there; their attempt at saving the seat for you guys.

“Finally,” Dustin says. “Thought someone was gonna sit on my feet any second.”

“You better move them quick then,” Eddie says. He moves to sit on the boy’s feet and all three of them bring their legs back to themselves.

From where you’re sitting, the cheerleaders are straight ahead. They’re in your direct line of vision and you get the feeling that your neck is going to be sore tomorrow because you’ll probably spend most of the game looking and talking to Max behind you.

Eddie raises his hand to wave, and you leave your eyes in your lap. You don’t need to see her pretty smile or her bright eyes. Her hair that was never out of place. You reach up to smooth over your own hair self-consciously.

“Stop,” Max says. She’s leaned in towards you so she can whisper in your ear. “Your hair is fine. You look great. And you know he’s going to spend more time talking to you than paying attention to her during the game anyway.”

With a sigh, you turn your head to give her a small smile. She reaches forward and squeezes your shoulder. Your girls knew how you felt about Eddie. With Nancy and Max, they said they had known before you even told them. The pair of them thought it was incredibly obvious to anyone who was paying attention, while Robin was shocked when you told her.

A whistle blows, signaling the start of the game. Your eyes scan the white jerseys moving around the court and on the sidelines. Number eight is standing on the side, hands on his hips and swaying from side to side. From the back, Lucas looks tense and nervous. Maybe this was a big game.

The cheerleaders began with their cheers, the sounds of pompoms crashing against each other catching on the air. Eddie watched the first few cheers before he turned to you.

“I’m already over it,” he says.

“Let me know when Lucas gets out on the court and I’ll care,” you answer him.

“Hey,” Dustin says, popping his head in between yours and Eddie’s. “You hear about the contest down at the bar?”

“What contest?” Eddie asks.

“What bar?” you ask.

Mike breaks his eyes away from the court to join the conversation. “The karaoke bar over by the grocery store.”

“They’re having like, a talent show - karaoke version - or something. I think you win $500,” Dustin says.

“When is it?” Eddie asks. He loved singing in front of people, and if he could win some money in the process, why not?

“Friday, you losers,” Max says, looking at Dustin and Mike. “You seriously didn’t notice that it’s the same night as Hellfire? The end of your campaign?”

“Shit,” Dustin says.

“Damn, that would’ve been fun,” Eddie says. “That’s a pretty big place, too. Nice sized audience.”

“Get up during halftime and sing to this crowd then,” you joke to Eddie.

“Oh God, don’t put that in his head. He’ll do it,” Mike says.

“These people wouldn’t know good music if I blared it in their ears,” Eddie says as he looks around the bleachers. “Ah, look. Harrington with another date. Who’s that one?”

Both you and Max crane your necks to try and see who Steve is with. He’s a few rows higher than you and closer to the band.

“Heidi?” Max asks.

“I don’t think so. Steve said he wouldn’t go on another date with her. Plus, Heidi’s hair is lighter than that,” you say.

Steve catches you and Max looking at him and mimes putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger. Max rolls her eyes while you let out a laugh.

“Poor Steve,” you say. “All these girls just aren’t right for him.”

“I keep telling him that he’s gotta figure out what he wants but he never listens to me,” Dustin says.

“Does he listen to anyone?” Max asks.

“Robin, maybe,” you add.

“Has he ever asked you on a date?” Eddie asks you. You furrow your brow in confusion. Why was he asking this? Just curiosity?

“No,” you say. “We’re friends.”

Eddie shrugs. “Sometimes that’s the best thing to be before becoming something more.”

You take a deep breath and feel your stomach clenching.

“I’ve got to use the bathroom,” you say. You stand up and Max stands behind you.

“I’ll come with you,” she says.

The two of you walk out of the gymnasium and into the quiet school hallway. Max stays quiet until she confirms there aren’t any other girls in the bathroom.

“You’re entering that contest,” Max says.

“What?”

“Find a song that expresses what you’re feeling and let it out on stage. You’re good. Good enough to win. And you know the guys won’t see because they’ll be playing DND.”

“I don’t know, Max.” You lean against the sinks and Max leans next to you.

“Oh, come on. You’re telling me a song about wanting someone who you can’t have comes on the radio while you’re driving, and you don’t angry belt it out?” Max asks.

“Yeah, alone in my car,” you say.

“And it’s cathartic, right?”

“I guess.” You shrug and avoid Max’s eyes because you know what’s coming next.

“If that feels good, imagine getting all those emotions and feelings out on stage,” Max says. “I already signed you up.”

You sigh and rub your hands over your face. It makes sense and you hate it. Music has always been your way of expressing yourself. Maybe doing this would help you release some of your anger and sadness.

“Fine,” you finally concede.

“Yes!” Max says. “We’ll bring Nancy and Robin and it’ll be great.”

“No one tells the guys about this, though,” you say. “I don’t need any of the headache that would come with that.”

“My lips are sealed,” Max says.

After the game, in which Lucas made the game winning shot, friends and family mingled with the players and cheerleaders. You would’ve gone with the others to talk to Lucas if Eddie hadn’t all but steered you in the direction of Chrissy. His hand was on the small of your back and you’d let him lead you anywhere like that. Even here.

“Eddie!” Chrissy calls. She runs forward and wraps her arms around his neck. He wraps his around her small waist and lifts her up, her short skirt riding up her ass. You divert your eyes from the pair of them, scanning the rest of the crowd for your friends.

“You were great,” Eddie is telling her. “And you looked so hot.”

Your fists clench and your fingernails are digging hard enough into your palms to draw blood.

“Like you even watched me,” Chrissy says with a laugh. “I saw you talking the whole time.”

Eddie frowns and his brows pinch together. “I did watch you.”

“Okay,” she says as she gives him a pat on the arm. It’s the condescending tone that’s dripping from her voice that makes you speak up.

“He pointed out to us in the third period when you did the new cheer. The one you came up with when you became cheer captain,” you say. You bite back from adding, “So, see? He pays attention to you even though you’re horrible to him and he deserves far better than you could ever be.”

Chrissy turns, looking at you as if she just noticed you were there. “Oh, hi.”

“Hi,” you respond, trying to keep the venom in your voice to a minimum.

She turns back to Eddie and wraps her arms around his neck. “I’m hungry. Can we go get pizza?”

Eddie glances at you out of the corner of his eye before looking back at her. “Uh, I hadn’t planned on that. I was going to give y/n a ride home.”

Chrissy pouts and it doesn’t suit her. Her lip goes too far out and her eyes scrunch in a way that looks more painful than sad.

“But I hardly got to see you today. Can’t she get a ride with someone else?” Chrissy asks.

“Don’t talk about her as if she’s not here,” Eddie says, pulling back from her a little. Her pout turns to a glare as she looks at him.

“It’s fine,” you say, taking a few steps back. You didn’t want to make this worse for Eddie and you certainly didn’t want to be stuck in the van with the two of them.

“But…” Eddie trails off.

“It’s okay,” you say, though your heart is telling you the opposite. “Go get pizza.”

He frowns deeper but nods his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here.” You give him a small smile before disappearing into the crowd.

Hopefully, Steve didn’t drive his date here and she had her own way home. You look through the mass of bodies for the familiar head of brown hair but come up empty. You don’t see a baseball cap with curls spilling out of it or a redhead either.

With a sigh, you walk to the doors. You head out into the dark evening, the stars and moon shining bright down on Hawkins this night. Most of the parking lot has cleared out and you don’t see a car you recognize other than the big brown van that used to bring you so much comfort.

Home is only six miles away, so you decide to walk. It’s a chilly night and you wrap your arms around yourself, hands rubbing up and down your arms that are bare in your t-shirt. You’ve made the walk before and you estimate it will take you about two hours. Thankful that you wore your most comfortable sneakers, you head up the hill and off school property.

The streets are quiet and dark, which unsettles you. Weird things happen in Hawkins all the time and you’d wager this is how a lot of them started. After walking two miles, a total of three cars have passed you by. You were almost more afraid when you saw the cars coming towards you rather than walking alone in the darkness.

You hear a car coming from behind and you take a step closer to the tree line and out of the road since the driver probably can’t see you.

“Y/n?”

You look back and Robin is hanging out the passenger window of Steve’s car.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Walking home,” you say as if it was a normal occurrence. Maybe if you act as if this wasn’t that big of a deal, they’d believe it.

“In the dark? Alone? At night? Are you insane?” Robin says. The driver door opens and Steve steps out. He walks over to you and looks at you in concern.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine.”

“Where’s Eddie?”

“He, um. Well, Chrissy wanted pizza. So, I said I’d get another ride, but I couldn’t find one. And home isn’t too far.” You shrug, not meeting his eyes.

Steve rests his hands on his hips and sighs. His typical mom stance.

“Come on. I’ll drive you home. You’re going to have to pile in though.” He doesn’t give you a chance to argue, wrapping an arm around you and guiding you to the car. “Jesus, you’re freezing. You know, you could’ve called me. Or Robin or Max or Dustin or Mike.”

Steve opens the back door, and the three younger faces look back at you. Max scoots over until she’s sitting on Dustin’s lap.

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Dustin says. He raises his arms in the air so he isn’t touching Max at all.

You slide in and Steve closes the door behind you. Dustin refuses to look at anyone, cheeks flushing. You can’t help the small smile on your face as you tug Max over to sit on your lap instead. She settles easily enough and rests her head against the window.

The car smells like fried food and you find out why when Mike holds a bag out in front of you.

“Burger? Fries?” he offers. “Or…” he rummages around in bags between his feet. “Onion rings.”

“Toss one,” you tell him. He smiles as you open your mouth and tries to throw the fried onion inside. Surprisingly, he makes it, which makes the four of you in the back cheer.

Robin gets dropped off first, her living the closest to school. She grabs her band hat and trumpet out of the trunk and waves before she disappears inside her house. Dustin takes the opportunity to jump into the front seat. Technically, Max should’ve been the next one dropped off, but Steve kept driving straight past the trailer park. Max didn’t say a word, knowing why Steve was avoiding the neighborhood for now.

“Why didn’t Nancy drive you home?” you ask Mike as Steve pulls into the Wheeler driveway.

“Because she’s a priss and has to stay late to work on the stupid paper,” he says.

“Hey!” Both you and Steve yell at the same time as he scrambles out of the car.

“You try living with her,” he says before waving his hand in a goodbye.

Your house is next, and you sag in relief when it comes into view. You hadn’t been expecting to see it for at least another hour at the rate you were walking before.

“Thanks for the ride, Steve,” you say. “I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime that idiot leaves you high and dry just call me,” Steve says, looking at you in the rear-view mirror. You smile to yourself, thinking this must be what it’s like to have a big brother. You now understand why the kids all gravitated towards him.

“Thanks,” you repeat as you get out of the car. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” you say to Max and Dustin. They wave as you head up to your door.

School the next day is weird. People are excited because the basketball team won; so, the halls were buzzing with that energy. But most people were tired as well, having stayed up later than usual to come to the game. It all gives you a nice cover for how you’re feeling. You feel sluggish and irritated. Though you can’t put your finger on the exact reason why, you knew the people it could be blamed on.

Eddie leans up against the locker next to yours between second and third period as you’re exchanging your books out.

“You didn’t text me last night,” he says.

“What?” you ask, not looking at him.

“When you got home. You didn’t text me to let me know you got home okay.”

“You didn’t ask me to,” you point out.

He frowns. “I didn’t think I had to. It’s just kind of something we do.”

“Well, sorry, I guess.” You close your locker and turn to him. “Was there something else?”

“Are you mad at me?” he asks. His big puppy dog eyes are shining and it’s truly your damn kryptonite.

You take a deep breath. “No.” You don’t know if that’s really true or not, though.

“You’re sure?” Eddie raises his eyebrows at you.

“I’m sure,” you lie.

“Are we still on for the park later?” he asks, hope glimmering in his eyes.

“Of course,” you say, eager to see him relax.

“Perfect. I’ve got everything in my backpack already to go.” The weed, he means. You can’t think of a better day to get high than today.

School simultaneously drags on and ends too quickly. Chrissy has cheer practice, so you don’t have to deal with her while you walk to Eddie’s van. Once inside, he cranks Sweet Child O’ Mine because he knows it’s one of your favorites. When you don’t hum along or even tap your foot along to the beat, he knows something is up.

He parks the van across the street from the park and grabs his backpack.

“Ready?” he asks.

You nod in affirmation and hop out. The two of you walk down the street to the crosswalk. Normally you’d just jay-walk to cross the street, but this intersection was notorious for pedestrian injuries. When you get your signal that it’s okay to cross, Eddie trips and you hear the ripping of material. You look down and see he’s ripped his own jeans by stepping on the hem of them while walking. The tear that was at his knee has now tripled in size and he could easily stick his whole leg through it. You giggle to yourself, and Eddie breathes a sigh of relief at the sound.

The two of you find your usual bench at the park and claim it. It’s hidden by a copse of trees so it’s easier to hide your illicit activities, but still allows you a good view of the park.

Eddie pulls out the two joints he’d rolled and lights one before handing it to you. Though you were used to the sickeningly bitter odor, it didn’t mean you liked it. You wrinkle your nose before raising the bud to your lips. You inhale, letting the burn curl down your throat and into your lungs. You were pretty good at not coughing by now. The first few times you’d ended up in total tears because of the intense hacking.

Eddie takes a hit of his own joint and rests his head against the back of the bench, blowing smoke straight up towards the sky. He closes his eyes and you take the time to admire him. He’d forgone the denim vest today and just settled on his leather jacket over his hellfire shirt. Hints of stubble were starting to appear on his chin and his lips were a little chapped. His long, dark eyelashes kiss his cheeks as his eyes move under his closed lids. He’s so beautiful it physically aches you.

He opens his eyes and turns his head to smile at you. It’s a real Eddie smile and it warms your heart. It’s so rare these days but it’s so bright it could rival the moon at night.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asks.

“The moon,” you say.

Eddie chuckles and takes another hit. “Oh yeah?” He releases the smoke. “What about it?”

“It’s so bright. But you only notice the brightness at night.” You came up with it off the top of your head, but it sounded good to you. You raise your joint to your mouth for another puff.

“Like some people I guess,” Eddie says. He doesn’t sound like he’s finished talking so you wait. “Sometimes you don’t see how amazing some people are until everything else around you dims, but they don’t. They’re still there bright and shining.”

It could be that he’s having a profound thought about his life, or the pot is kicking in, so you can’t be sure.

“I want to go to the moon,” you say. Eddie laughs and you can tell both of you are feeling the effects now.

His laugh is infectious and causes you to start laughing as well. You curl in on yourself, abdominal muscles starting to cramp, and you slide to the side to lay across Eddie’s lap.

“Eds?” you ask, eyes staring up at the clouds above.

“Mm?”

“I miss you.”

He frowns down at you and pokes your forehead with his ringed index finger.

“I’m right here, silly head.”

“I know,” you say.

“I like when we talk,” Eddie says. His head is moving all around, taking in all the sights in the park around you. There are a few squirrels scampering up the tree closest to you. Birds sing in the distance and the laughter of kids comes from the playground a few hundred feet away.

“I like it too,” you say. “It’s so easy to talk to you.”

“Always has been. Since we met.”

“You’re my favorite person,” you tell him.

He grins and drops his head down to look at you. “More than Timothée Chalamet?”

“Mhmm,” you hum in confirmation.

“Wow,” Eddie says with a laugh. “That’s saying something.”

The two of you decide to lay in the grass as you let the pot work through your system. Eddie won’t be able to drive for a while anyway, so you take advantage of the nice day.

“I had a weird dream last night,” Eddie says.

“Yeah? Tell me.”

“I was playing at The Hideout. But when I looked down, I was playing the wrong guitar. It was a nice guitar. It was gold and smooth and sounded beautiful. But it wasn’t my guitar. I put the gold guitar down and tried to find mine. I started freaking out because I thought I lost it. I looked everywhere and couldn’t find it.”

“Did you find it?” you ask.

“I did. But some guy was playing it and it made me so mad.”

“What guy?” You let your heavy eyes droop closed.

“M’not sure. He didn’t look familiar. Could’ve been anyone, I guess. But he was playing my guitar and I wanted it back. But he said I was too late. And it made me really really sad.”

You frown and reach over to take Eddie’s hand in yours. “It’s okay, Eddie. No one is going to take your guitar away. Why would it want to leave you?”

The high lasted a few hours and by the time Eddie got you home for dinner, the munchie effect was still going strong. You devoured the lasagna your mom put down in front of you. The bloodshot look had faded from your eyes, so you were just hoping your parents thought you were extra hungry today for some reason.

You should’ve gone to sleep hours ago. It would’ve been easy; you always slept better on days when you got high with Eddie. But you still hadn’t picked a song to sing at the karaoke competition. Your head was in the middle of your bed, and you rested your legs up against the wall over your headboard. You scroll and scroll through playlists, trying to find a song that expresses what you’ve been feeling.

The sound of brakes squeaking makes you move your legs down and sit up on your bed. Your phone tells you that it’s 3:17am. You walk over to your window and see Eddie walking around the side of your house. You frown at him, and he notices you up in your window. You point towards the back door and Eddie nods.

Eddie would sometimes come by in the middle of the night, but he’d usually text first. You creep down the stairs as quietly as you can, avoiding any creaks. Your cat picks his head up from where he’s sleeping on the top of the couch to see what you’re up to. He decides he doesn’t care though and adjusts himself into a new comfortable position to fall back asleep.

Luckily, your dad had fixed it so the back door didn’t stick anymore when you tried to open it. It glides open silently and Eddie steps inside.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” you whisper to him.

He nods but he won’t meet your eyes. You frown and take his hand in yours. As you walk back past your cat, he picks his head up again and deems Eddie worthy of his affection. Eddie scratches his head two times before following you up the stairs.

You pull him into your room and quietly close the door behind you.

“What’s up?” you ask him.

He shrugs and sits on the edge of your bed. “Didn’t want to be alone.”

The sheets are messy, and you crawl on top of them, making yourself comfortable against the mountain of pillows against your headboard. Eddie glances back before leaning backwards so his head ends up in your lap. You start to play with his hair. You haven’t done this in a while, and it warms your heart. His eyes drift closed, and you think he’s fallen asleep until he quietly kicks his boots off so he can pull his legs up on the bed as well.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask.

He opens his eyes and stares at your ceiling. “I feel confused.”

“About what?”

“That’s the thing. Everything.”

You frown and trace your pinky finger along one of his curls. “Elaborate?”

“I don’t know how,” he says. “Feel like everything is upside down. I feel like I want things to go back to normal, but I don’t know what’s changed to make me think things aren’t normal. Am I making sense?”

“Sort of,” you say.

His eyes begin to water, and it breaks your heart. You’d give anything to be able to fix what’s wrong, but he doesn’t seem to know.

“Where do I belong?” he asks.

“Here,” you say without hesitation. “Here with me and your uncle and Dustin and all your friends. Here with your favorite guitar and your band and your loud as all hell van.”

That makes him chuckle and your heart feels ten pounds lighter. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again.

“Did you miss something on that list? Or someone?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you say carefully. “Did I?”

He licks over his lips before answering. “I don’t believe you did. I think that was a pretty complete list. Doesn’t need anyone else.”

“No?” you ask.

He opens his eyes and shakes his head. “She reamed me out for an hour before because I hadn’t bought prom tickets yet.”

“I didn’t even know they were on sale,” you say. You’re trying to keep your voice calm for him, but it’s proving difficult.

“Neither did I,” he says. “But she goes on and on about how she already bought her dress and the, and I’m quoting here, ‘the prettiest high heels in the world.’”

“Shouldn’t she have waited until, you know…at least until you asked?”

“Right?” he huffs out. He runs his hands over his face, and you start to play with the small curls along his forehead. “I’ve got to end it.”

“I think so,” you say in a small voice.

He tilts his head up so he can look at you. “Friday, yeah? Tomorrow I’ve got a test, so I don’t want the stress added to that. I need to pass this class.”

“Biology again?” you ask. “I thought you were doing better.”

“I am, but I won’t if I bomb this test.”

“You should probably get some sleep then.” You almost said “go home and get some sleep” but that’s not what you really want. He nods and goes to sit up, but you catch his arm.

“Here?” he asks.

You shrug and slide yourself under the covers. “Why not? I don’t have cooties. I got the shot.”

He smiles and shrugs out of his leather jacket before sliding in the bed next to you. Your heart races as his head lays on the pillow next to yours, noses almost touching.

“Goodnight,” he whispers.

“Goodnight.”

On Friday, you only get to see Eddie between second and third period at your locker. His plan is to have lunch with Chrissy outside and break up with her then. Your paths don’t cross after lunch, and he has Hellfire and you’re meeting with the girls to get ready for the karaoke contest right after school. Your stomach will be in knots until you find out how it went.

Nancy dusts your eyelids with silver eyeshadow as you sit on your bed. Max and Robin go through your closet, deciding what you should wear tonight.

“No, that might be see-through under the lights.”

“What about this?”

“It clashes with the silver eyeshadow.”

“Any texts from Eddie?” Nancy asks quietly as she cleans up the edges.

“No,” you breathe out with a sigh. “But he’s never on his phone during Hellfire. I think that would be blasphemous in there.”

Nancy hums her agreement.

“We’ve got one!” Robin announces.

You open your eyes to see Max holding a royal blue dress that accentuates your curves and feels silky smooth against your skin. You wrinkle your nose at them.

“It doesn’t go,” you say.

“With what?” Max asks.

“My song!”

“Oh, you’re right,” Robin says.

“Fine, fine,” Max says. She puts the dress back in the closet and starts to dig through your drawers.

“I hope there are no sex toys in here,” Robin says as she joins Max.

You roll your eyes as Nancy touches up your eyeliner.

“Jeans,” Nancy says as she works. “She should wear jeans and a t-shirt.”

“That’s what she wears every day,” Robin says.

“Exactly,” you and Nancy say at the same time.

“Okay, fine,” Robin acquiesces. “But what one?”

“Iron Maiden?” Max asks as she picks one out of the drawer. “There’s also Guns ‘n Roses, Black Sabbath, Metallica. Geez, any from this century?”

“Corroded Coffin,” you say. Max looks at you and grins.

“Where is it?” she asks.

“Top drawer.”

Robin and Max pick out the best jeans to go with your favorite tee. Nancy tells you to get dressed before she fixes your hair. She doesn’t do much, just spray a little product in it and tussle it up.

“Perfect,” she says.

You pace back and forth backstage. You’re not exactly nervous. Not about the singing, anyway. About letting your feelings channel through you in this way. It was a vulnerability you’d never shared before. Even if the audience just thought you’d picked this song because you liked it, you and your friends knew the truth.

The girl on stage now is singing Madonna and you take deep breaths to settle yourself.

“Hey.”

Nancy jumps at the voice in her ear. She turns her head to see Eddie sliding into the seat next to her. Her eyes widen comically, and Eddie raises an eyebrow at her.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here either, but do I look like a ghost or something?”

“What are you doing here?” Robin demands from the other side of Nancy. Someone in the crowd shushes her, but she doesn’t care. “You’re supposed to be at Hellfire.”

Eddie shrugs with a devious smile and Dustin plops down in the seat on the other side of him.

“His stupid campaign wiped us out in the first half hour,” Dustin says. “We remembered this was happening, so we figured we’d catch the last half.”

Max’s leg bounces nervously on Robin’s other side and Eddie notices the motion.

“What’s wrong, Red?” She raises her eyebrows and shakes her head at him. “Wait, where’s y/n?” he asks.

Robin leans in to whisper in Max’s ear. “Do we have time to warn her?”

“No,” Max whispers back. “She’s up next.”

“Maybe she won’t see with all the lights,” Nancy leans over to add.

Robin groans and drops her head in her hands.

The girl wraps up singing Papa Don’t Preach and the audience claps politely. The manager steps out on the stage and reads from a clipboard.

“Next up we have y/n y/l/n.”

Eddie’s jaw drops before a huge smile forms on his face. He was going to get to hear you sing again. Finally.

You step onstage and Eddie’s taken aback. He didn’t expect an elaborate outfit or anything of the sort but seeing you in a Corroded Coffin shirt took him by surprise.

The music begins and the notes tickle his brain. He knows this song. He knows that he knows it because of Chrissy, even if he can’t place it. Why would you choose this song?

You grip the mic tightly in your grip and lift it to your mouth.

“You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset. She's going off about something that you said, ‘cause she doesn't get your humor like I do.”

It’s Taylor Swift, Eddie recognizes. This confuses him even further. What was it you said about her music?

“I'm in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night. I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like, and she'll never know your story like I do.”

You feel your confidence picking up as you keep going. Looking at the audience doesn’t seem like a good idea, so you keep your eyes vague as they move across the open space in front of you. It feels good to have a microphone in your hand.

“But she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts. She's Cheer Captain, and I'm on the bleachers. Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find that what you're looking for has been here the whole time.”

Eddie’s stunned to his seat. His jaw hangs open as he recalls what you said. It was like Taylor Swift took a page out of your diary and wrote a song about it. There was no mistaking what and who this song was about. Even for someone who knew how dense he could be at times.

“If you could see that I'm the one who understands you. Been here all along so, why can't you see? You belong with me. You belong with me.”

The grin that spreads across your face is freeing. You never knew being vulnerable could feel this good. You’re sharing your heart with the people in the audience and most of them have no idea.

“Walk in the streets with you in your worn-out jeans, I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be. Laughing on a park bench thinking to myself, ‘Hey, isn't this easy?’ And you've got a smile that can light up this whole town, I haven't seen it in a while since she brought you down. You say you're fine, I know you better than that. Hey, what you doing with a girl like that?”

All three of your friends in the audience are caught between watching you work the stage like you were born for it and looking over at Eddie to gauge his reaction. Nancy notices the way his hands are gripping the armrests and she doesn’t know what that means.

“She wears high heels, I wear sneakers. She's Cheer Captain, and I'm on the bleachers. Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find that what you're looking for has been here the whole time. If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along so, why can't you see? You belong with me.”

You catch a flash of red hair in the audience, and it widens your smile. So that’s where your friends are out there. You’ll have to get a good look at them when singing the next part.

“Standing by and waiting at your backdoor, all this time how could you not know, baby? You belong with me. You belong with me.”

There’s a small instrumental break and you take the opportunity to lower the mic and look at the row your friends are in. But your eyes catch a very familiar pair of brown ones and your veins ice over and your stomach bottoms out. Eddie’s staring at you with those eyes and they’re enough to make you melt on the spot without all the lights on you adding to the heat. You try not to let it break your stride on stage. Spinning on the sole of your shoe, you face the back of the stage to compose your face and take a deep breath. You continue. The show must go on.

“Oh, I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night. I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're 'bout to cry. And I know your favorite songs, and you tell me 'bout your dreams. Think I know where you belong, think I know it's with me.”

You realize it’s all out in the open now. The Band-Aid has been ripped off and you might as well finish the song off strong. It’s easy to find Eddie’s eyes in the audience, wide as they are, and you keep eye contact as you sing the next part.

“Can't you see that I'm the one who understands you? Been here all along so, why can't you see? You belong with me.”

Eddie isn’t fully sure he’s awake. This has to be a dream, right? He’d pinch himself if he were able to move a muscle. Your eyes boring into his and baring your soul to him. There’s pressure on the back of his eyes and a fist clenching around his heart. How long have you been hurting over this?

“Standing by and waiting at your backdoor all this time how could you not know, baby? You belong with me. You belong with me.”

Adrenaline is coursing through your body and you’re already worried about what’s going to happen when it wears off. You wish the song wouldn’t end so you don’t have to leave the stage and deal with whatever comes after.

“You belong with me. Have you ever thought just maybe, you belong with me? You belong with me.”

The cheers and applause are white noise to you. There’s only one other person in the room and he hasn’t moved a muscle; not even on his shocked face.

You give the crowd the best smile you can before exiting the stage. You drop the mic on a table and find the most isolated corner of the backstage that you can. Resting your head against the wall and taking big, deep breaths is all you can focus on.

Hands land gently on your shoulders, but you still jump. You spin around quickly and come face to face with the one person you no longer knew how to talk to. His big brown eyes are wide and glassy. He’s never resembled a baby cow more than he does in this moment. His mouth keeps opening and closing, as if he wants to speak but doesn’t know what to say. That makes two of you.

“I didn’t know,” he finally says.

You close your eyes and nod. “I know. I didn’t want you to.”

Eddie shakes his head. “That’s not, um. That’s not what I meant.” He squeezes his eyes closed and licks over his lips. “I didn’t know. But she did.”

Your brow pinches in confusion and you shake your head. “I don’t understand.” The last thing you thought would be happening right now is Eddie trying to explain something to you.

“When I broke up with Chrissy.” Eddie sees the wince on your face at her name and it breaks his heart. How had he never noticed before? “She knew I loved you. She said she knew from day one. That’s why I didn’t text you right after I did it. I needed to think. About how true it was.”

“And?” The word barely squeaks out of you. Every nerve in your body was on edge, awaiting his response.

“After that?” Eddie gestures to the stage. “How could I have any doubt?”

His hand cups the back of your head gently and brings your mouth against his. His other hand snakes around your waist and your arms automatically come up to encircle his neck. It’s a gentle kiss, but it gets across all the emotions floating between the two of you. Relief, joy, love, excitement, fear, to name a few.

Eddie’s lips dance across yours again and again. You pull him closer, and he gets the hint, his tongue coming out to glide across your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him.

“Y/n y/l/n….y/n y/l/n…y/n y/l/n?”

Eddie finally realizes your name is being called and pulls back from your lips. You whine and go to chase them, but Eddie chuckles and points towards the stage.

“Babe, I think you won,” he says.

You grin, never taking your eyes off him. You cup his jaw and lean in to press a soft kiss against his lips.

“Oh, I know I did.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic

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pearl-star · 7 months

Text

It's Not My Job

I had written and had this story finished back in August of last year, but just never got around to posting it. I revisited it again yesterday and decided to just go ahead and post it. It's crossed posted to my AO3 if if you would prefer reading it there, here's the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54107548. (Also, fair warning, this fic is 10K words long. I didn't feel like dividing it up into different chapters so here it is in its entirely.

Summary: After becoming too stressed out from her class rep duties, Marinette talks to the other class reps about the work she’s been doing, hoping for some help. In a few moments, she discovers that none of the work she’s been assigned to do is what she should be doing as class rep. And when she goes to Miss Bustier only for her teacher to threaten her, her friends and family finally decide that enough is enough and take the issue to the higher ups.

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

Marinette was on her last legs. The swell of akumas over the past month was bad enough, but the extra work that came with it just made her life so much harder. On top of her regular school work and make-up work from missed classes, she had to handle her class rep duties as well. She had to be an example, help her classmates when Chloe acted up, check essays and homework, and do her other general class rep tasks.

Not only that, but she had to hatch out a whole plan for the class trip. Not just a general idea but the specifics of where they would stay, the exact activities they would do, how they would get there and travel around, and so on. She also had to plan out the fundraising activities, and had to do enough of them otherwise she would have to put in the rest of the money herself. Chloe had no issues with that in the past, but she was also rich. Marinette couldn’t exactly use her parent’s credit card to get it all situated.

Alya, by her sense of duty as both her friend and class deputy, tried helping her out but for some reason wasn’t allowed. She could help instruct people once the plans were made, but she couldn’t be a part of the planning process. Otherwise, according to Miss Bustier, the plans would have to be redone completely. The blogger had suggested working on it together secretly, but Marinette was hesitant. She didn’t want to risk Miss Bustier finding out and for her to demand that the plans had to be redone. So for now, the bluenette was working on her own.

Everyone in class had noticed the toll the extra work was doing on her. She barely made it to class on time and was always the last to leave. Her bookbag was stuffed with papers with notes and plans. She always had her shoulders slumped, like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and her eye bags were barely being covered by her makeup. She never smiled unless Miss Bustier told her to be a better example, in which case she would stitch on a mechanical smile similar to that of Adrien’s model smile.

The model, for his part, was freaking out over the fact that the sweetest and most happy girl in class (besides Rose, who is just a sparkling ball of pink, glittery sunshine) was struggling. He went so far as to get her coffee order from Alya and made sure to bring one in daily, as well as leave a thermos of heavily sugared black tea on her desk after lunch. The fact that Marinette wasn’t reacting to Adrien’s actions with anything more than a thank you, with no stuttering or blush in sight, proved how tired she really was.

Marinette’s sole goal was to catch up with all of this work as fast as she could, otherwise she would get behind again and be stuck in this loop forever. So when she was asked to attend a lunch out with the other class reps, she hesitated. She didn’t really have time to do much of anything. Even patrols had been cut down, something her partner had insisted on when she almost fell off a building when she zoned out mid jump. Still, maybe they could help her.

Miss Bustier had said that planning the class trip and all that was only the job of the class rep, so her getting advice from the other class reps shouldn’t be against the rules. So Marinette found herself that Friday walking to the cafe where Aurora said to meet. Once she got there, the weather girl waved her over to an open chair next to her.

As she walked over, she looked at the group. Marinette knew who most of the class reps were, but never got the chance to talk to any of them. Some were in the art club with her, but they tended not to discuss class rep duties there.

“Sorry I’m late.” The bluenette apologized, sliding into the empty chair. “I had to show Miss Bustier my progress for the class trip.”

There was silence, and then.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, my plans for the class trip. I’ve narrowed it down to a place and found a hotel that we could stay at, but I still need to figure out travel plans and the exact activities.” Marinette looked at the confused faces around her. Then a thought came to mind. “Am I late on this too?! Miss Bustier only brought it up to me at the end of last month, so I thought that I had plenty of time still but-”

“No it’s not that.” Kimberly said, cutting Marinette off from her panic. “It’s just that… class reps don’t plan out their class trips.”

Marinette blinked at the news. She had been class rep for the past two years. The first year, she didn’t have to be as in depth with the class trip. She proposed a general trip idea, fundraising ideas, and helped coordinate the fundraisers, but this year Miss Bustier said that class reps had to be more hands-on with the trip. The teacher had even given her a packet on the new rules.

“What do you mean? Yes they do. It’s in the newest handbook.”

“What handbook?”

Marinette dug in her book bag before pulling out the packet and handing it to Claude. He flipped through the pages, scanning them while a few other class reps looked over his shoulders. As he read, his frown deepened.

“This isn’t right. The handbook has been updated last year, but not in this way. It actually had deputies taking on more of the load to help lessen the stress of class reps, as well as a newly added duty to help plan out relaxation days throughout the year to try and lessen the chance of akumas during testing weeks. Where did you get this from?”

“Miss Bustier gave it to me and explained it all. She did say how class reps were now responsible for helping to lower the class’s stress.”

All of the class reps looked at each other, before Aurora finally spoke up.

“Marinette… I don’t know why Miss Bustier gave this to you, but it isn’t right. I don’t have the handbook on me right now but there is one in Ms. Meedeveli’s classroom that I can show you once we get back to the school.”

Marinette paused, before nodding and thanking the weather girl. Slowly the conservation changed to something else, but the bluenette’s mind couldn’t stop from drifting. Why would Miss Bustier give her the wrong packet? Maybe the school had made this version and then changed it, but didn’t inform the teacher of the change. Marinette did become class rep for the first time last year, so it is possible that Miss Bustier went and asked for the newest handbook early so that she could have it at the start of her role.

The pigtailed girl was finally able to relax. That had to be it. Miss Bustier thought that this was the correct version and just didn’t know. Once she gets the new copy, they can figure out how planning for the school trip should really go.

After lunch she walked back to school with all of the reps, and then split off from the group as she followed Aurora to Ms. Meedeveli’s room. The science teacher was already in the room, working on writing something on the board for the lesson later on.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Meedeveli. Do you have a copy of the class rep handbook?”

“Good afternoon to you too, and yes I do. It’s over on the wall next to the classroom rules.”

“Do you think Marinette can borrow it for the afternoon? There was a bit of a mix-up with the handbook in her homeroom.”

The teacher stiffened at that, and Marinette was worried that she would say no. Instead, once the woman realized the bluenette’s eyes on her, she shook her head.

“Go ahead. And feel free to keep it in your homeroom, Marinette. I can pick up another copy later. Just let me know if you need anything else.”

Once Aurora handed her a packet, a by far smaller one than the previous one, Marinette nodded.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Meedeveli. I’ll see you later in class.”

She gave her thanks to the blonde as well before walking out of the room, looking over the packet. She was in such a rush that she didn’t notice the usually strict teacher give her a look of pity.

As Marinette read through the packet, she felt less and less stressed already. It was definitely much different than the one she was given, and would absolutely help her catch up on all her other activities. Without having to plan the class trip, she would have so much more freetime. All she would have to do is tell Miss Bustier of the mix up and then she’ll be good.

She decided to wait until after school though, since class was about to start and she didn’t want to be the reason they had more makeup work. However, once class was over and she talked to Miss Bustier, she got a rude surprise.

“What do you mean this packet is wrong? I got this from Ms. Meedeveli’s room. All the other class reps said that the handbook you gave me was the wrong one.”

“Yes, the other class reps have a different handbook, but you need to follow the one I gave you. You’re my star student, Marinette. You can handle more work.”

“I can’t though.” Marinette nearly cried, before composing herself. “I’m really struggling with just homework with all the akumas interrupting class time. And the handbook you gave me said that Alya can’t even help me with all of these extra duties. I’m gonna fall behind at this rate.”

“Now Marinette, that would be your own fault. You need to manage your time better. Also you do need to help prevent akumas. That thing in the other handbook we can include in ours. I want you to plan a destressing activity for the class to do by the end of next week. We can do a different one every week to keep things different.”

Upon hearing that more work was being put onto her, she opened her mouth to refuse before being silenced.

“I really wouldn’t want to have a talk with your parents about you becoming a problem to our classroom, so make sure to keep up your good job as class rep okay?”

Miss Bustier was… threatening her? The bluenette was so shocked that she could only nod, numbly leaving the classroom. As soon as she turned the corner, she bumped into Alya.

“Oh. Hi, Alya.”

“Marinette… did Miss Bustier really say that?”

It was then that Marinette realized how shaken up her friend was.

“What do you mean?”

“She really-” Alya started, before looking at the direction to the classroom door in contemplation. It seemed like she made a decision, as she pulled Marinette away.

“We’re telling your parents. I can’t believe she said that to you.”

The bluenette got a sense of dread with Alya’s suggestion, realizing that Alya had heard some if not all of the conversation she just had. The reminder of Miss Bustier’s earlier threat rang in her mind.

“No. Miss Bustier-”

“She’s forcing you to do more work. Quite frankly, I was about to ‘accidentally’ hide some of the work I’ve been doing for the class trip in with your notes so that you’d actually be able to get some sleep. But now? I can’t just sit by and let this happen to my best friend.”

“But my parents won’t believe me.”

“Don’t you have both packets? Show that to your parents. Besides, it's the entire class’s words against Miss Bustier. Your parents will believe us.”

Marinette still didn’t like the sound of it. She’d never gone against her teacher before. But Alya was hard to stop once she got an idea in her head, so the bluenette was dragged to the bakery.

Her mom was handling the counter, and was finishing up checking out a customer. Once they left, she finally noticed them.

“Good afternoon girls. Feel free to take a pastry on your way up.”

“Actually Mlle. Cheng, we need to speak to you about something.”

“What is it?”

Alya nudged Marinette forward, but when it was clear that she wasn’t going to talk, Alya took charge. She grabbed the two different class rep handbooks, walking forward and giving them to the women.

“Miss Bustier has been forcing Marinette to take on more work as class rep. When Marinette asked her about it, she threatened to call you two up and tell you that she’s causing issues.”

Sabine blinked at Alya’s words, before her confusion was swapped for a blank stare. Her eyes shifted from the packets in her hands to her daughter.

“Marinette, is this true?”

“We-Well I mean, I’m sure Miss Bustier didn’t really mean-”

“Marinette. Please tell me the truth.”

Yep. Her mom was definitely mad at her. She sighed and decided to just take the bullet.

“It’s true, but I-”

“What has she been making you do?”

Marinette flinched at the anger sounding clearly in her mother’s tone. She looked down at her hands. Alya kept a hand on her shoulder to try and calm her. When it was clear that the bluenette had no intention of speaking, the blogger took over.

“She’s been forced to plan the whole class trip by herself. Where we’re going, the hotel we’re staying in, activities we’re doing, the exact travel plans, fundraising, all of that. I wasn’t even allowed to do any of the planning process with her.”

“Anything else?”

“I had to help with grading some things.” Marinette finally added, sighing in defeat. “I also had to help when Chloe acted up.” She leaned back into Alya’s touch, causing the redhead to wrap her arm around her and give her a tight squeeze.

Sabine looked between the two girls and then back at the packets in her hands. She frowned in thought at the clear size difference between the two.

“I’d take it that this is the real one?” She asked, holding up the smaller packet.

“That’s the one that the other class reps use. I got it from Ms. Meedevelei this afternoon.”

“I’m gonna look these over during my break. That will be in… thirty minutes. For now I think you two should grab a treat and relax upstairs. Would you two be okay staying here in case I need to ask you something else?”

The two girls nodded, grabbing a pastry and heading back and up to the apartment. Marinette fiddled with the hem of her jacket, thinking about what had just happened. Alya sighed and pulled her towards the chaise.

“Don’t worry, let your parents handle this.”

“But what if I get in trouble in school? Miss Bustier could do to Principal Damcoles and say that I’m not cooperating and-”

“And then everyone will tell him off if he tries to punish you. Miss Bustier threatened you. That’s a whole other thing to consider, above her dumping a bunch of work onto you and making you do it by yourself.” Alya scowled. “I don’t understand that part. Why did she not want me to help with anything?”

Marinette didn’t have an answer to that. If Miss Bustier truly wanted her to do all of these things, then having Alya help her would have made life so much easier. Why not let someone else who was willing to help take some work off her shoulders do it? The redhead shrugged and reached in her bookbag.

“I guess it doesn’t matter right now. I know your mom said to relax, but I also know you can’t do physics for the life of you so let me help you out while I can.”

The bluenette felt tears prick up at the offer of receiving help, but she quickly wiped those away before her friend could notice. They were so distracted with the work that they didn’t hear the muffled shouts from below.

“That woman did what?!”

“She threatened our daughter. All because Marinette asked her why the manual she was given as class rep was different from every other class reps’ handbook.”

The two adults were hard to anger. Their life was full of simple joys, being able to live peaceful lives despite running a business and being in a time when a magical terrorist was in their city. But let it not be said that they could never get angry. Because right now, the only other thought in their minds besides concern for their daughter was the anger towards the girl’s teacher.

“I want to talk to Miss Bustier today. I know that Alya can be dramatic sometimes, but Marinette would never lie. Especially with something like this.”

“We can close the bakery. I want to be there as well.”

Sabine thought about it for a moment before shaking her head.

“No. I’m just gonna do a phone call for now. Besides, we can’t just close the bakery today. I’ll update you once I’m done talking to her.”

She thought that it would be a fifteen minute phone call max. Just her asking to confirm things and then asking for them to be changed to how they should be. She didn’t expect Miss Bustier to try and defend herself. Yes, Marinette was a bright kid and an excellent student, but that didn’t mean that she should be doing the work of her teacher. The more she tried to defend her daughter, the more the teacher defended her own actions. Sabine ended the call more frustrated than before, and she decided to instead talk to Mr. Damocles. Because surely he would be able to correct the teacher? After all, what Ms. Bustier was doing was an abuse of her power.

Alas, Sabine ended her night early. Both adults saw it best to just close the bakery early. Heaven forbid if that principal or teacher decided to pay them a visit. The cup of chamomile tea was not helping her to calm down in the slightest, and her husband paced around as he ranted. The woman herself, while not outwardly expressing her thoughts, did silently stew on the issue.

How dare those people do this to her child. It wasn’t a big deal? It absolutely was. Neither parent had missed the way Marinette was getting more sluggish and tired. It was part of the reason why they had stopped making her work in the bakery as of late. All that extra work was affecting her studies and normal life, and neither of those adults cared? It was an outrage! But who else could she turn to?

It was then that an idea struck her. Sabine grinned, leaving her half finished tea on the table and walking off.

“Calling them back is not going to do anything. I think we need to go in person and demand that they stop this.”

“Oh, I’m not calling them. I have a better idea.”

If those two wouldn’t listen to her, then she would have to get someone who would make them see the error of their ways. Sabine sat down at the computer, typing out a very detailed email before sending it off. She continued to check her inbox throughout the weekend, waiting for a response, but there wasn’t one. Not until Sunday afternoon.

Dear Madame Cheng,

We have reviewed your complaints regarding Madame Bustier and Mister Damocles, and have officially filed for an investigation to take place. We will begin the investigation starting tomorrow, Monday XX/XXXX, and will inform you of any updates as well as the results. If you are worried about any misaction towards your daughter by Madame Bustier because of this investigation, please let us know. We will be happy to make arrangements for her to be situated in a different homeroom both during and after the course of this investigation.

We ask that you and your husband be available during some point this week for a meeting to discuss the problem more in depth. We will try our best to be courteous and inform you ahead of time when we will be paying you a visit. If you have anything urgent to report before our meeting, please do not hesitate to reach out either through email or using the phone number listed below. We promise you that your concerns will be taken seriously, and the investigation will not end until a solution is made.

Jon Garnier, Dupont School Board Member

Sabine smiled at the email once she finished reading it. It was done. With the school board involved, Miss Bustier would be forced to take off the workload from her daughter. She sent a response email to him, thanking him and informing him that he could come to the bakery at any time and she would be sure to be available to talk to him.

There were some other things, some very concerning things, that Alya had filled her and Tom in on Friday before the girl went home, but Sabine didn’t add those in. As awful as they were, they could wait to be discussed once she was face to face with someone.

Marinette was told that things were being handled, but the girl still seemed worried. She was given a choice to switch homerooms temporarily or even just stay home for a day or two, but she rejected both. Not only was Marinette behind on classwork, but she still needed to continue her class rep duties, even if her parents didn’t seem happy when she said that. Reluctantly, her parents sent her off to school on Monday.

Alya made sure to pick her up, trying to offer her support and then try to distract her with little success. It was very clear to anyone that Marinette had not gotten any rest, despite the reassurance from her parents and Alya. She was told not to do any of the class rep work and instead just relax and focus on her other school work, but she wasn’t able to feel calm. Her anxiety at what would happen now that her parents had talked to Miss Bustier and Mr. Damcoles kept her from sleeping. So she worked on not just all the extra class work, but also her guardian work. Tikki was not happy with her, but there was only so much that the kwami could do to stop her.

The two girls slowed down a bit as they approached their friends by the steps. Both boys eyed the bluenette with great concern with one of them being… a bit more dramatic about it.

“Marientte! What happened? Why do you look more tired now?”

The blond fretted, handing the cup of coffee he had to Nino to hold as he examined the girl, holding onto her face with one hand as he lightly touched the bags until her eyes with his finger.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Couldn’t sleep? You look more tired than I do when I have a night and morning shoot back to back. Maybe you should go home and rest for the day?”

“I can’t. I’m already behind on all my work. Besides, as class president it’s my duty to show up.”

The pigtailed girl couldn’t say it with as much conviction as she once might have, due to how much energy that would have taken. Even talking was just wearing her out. How she would be able to handle Chole’s inevitable fits, she didn’t know, or really care about right now. None of the trio were happy to hear that, and even the students who fluttered around looked at the girl with a mix of concern and pity.

Adrien had always wanted to be able to have a straight conversation with the budding designer. One where she wouldn’t be so flustered that she would have to run off. But if she would have to be like this for him to get that? He would have never wished for it. For now he turned and took the coffee cup back from Nino to hand it to the girl.

“Here you go. If you refuse to go home then at least have this.”

The small smile she gave him was genuine, and Adrien only wished that it had come at a time when she wasn’t so tired.

“Thank you. I need to get some things done before class starts.” Before anyone could stop her, Marinette started her walk up the stairs. Alya was immediately on her trail.

“She’s wearing herself out. I want to be able to help her more but…” The blond murmured, wishing that he knew what was happening to her. He knew that she was stressed out, but surely there had to be something else he could do besides keeping her caffeinated. Nino patted his shoulder, still looking at where the girls disappeared off to.

“You’re doing what you can. Besides, Alya’s figured things out.”

“Figured what out? Marinette is still… like that.”

“She didn’t tell you? With the way Alya went off in the group chat and then to me, I thought for sure you would have known.”

Alya did what? Adrien had been on his phone, and he hadn’t noticed any messages coming in at all. Checking his texts, the last message from the class chat had been someone commenting on Marinette’s behavior, but it was just a message of concern from Rose. Nothing from Alya. Nino looked over his shoulder and let out an oh.

“You must not have been added to the chat. Here, let me do that real quick.”

In a few seconds, a request to join a group chat came in. Clicking accept, he quickly scrolled to the top of the conversation before pausing. He blinked once, twice, then screamed.

“She did WHAT to Marinette?!”

“Yeah, it happened on Friday. Alya overheard it and went to Marinette’s parents. They-” Nino went on, but Adrien drowned him out.

He couldn’t believe it. He knew that Marinette was stressed out about her class rep position and he saw how Miss Bustier treated Marinette sometimes, but this? That woman just decided to threaten her? A growl sounded out, and it barely registered in his mind that it came from him.

“That’s it. I don’t care what I have to do, I’m-”

“Adrien.” Nino said, grabbing onto his shoulders and snapping him out of his thoughts. “You need to calm down. Trust me, everyone is upset about this, but you can’t get akumatized.”

He tried to calm himself, but it was hard. This whole time this was happening without him knowing. He was a failure to his princess, his everyday Ladybug. Did his partner have something like this happening in her life and he was failing her too? He knew that she was more tired lately, due to having more work in her civilian life on top of guardian work but she didn’t give specifics. He had tried offering to do some of the guardian work too, but she had declined citing how it would be too dangerous to do it in the open and they had nowhere private to go. Maybe he should have pushed more?

“Dude, calm down.” He instructed again, once again jostling him from his thoughts. “Alya already told Marinette’s parents. They have things covered.”

The question of “how” popped into his mind, but before he could voice it he spotted two adults walking up the steps. Adults who he did not recognize, but felt like they held an air of authority to them.

“Trust me,” Nino said, and it was then that the blonde noticed his friend’s knowing look. “They have things covered.”

Adrien knew that there was something else to Nino’s words, but decided against asking exactly what. For now he would simply keep a closer eye on both Marinette and Miss Bustier. No one would be allowed to hurt his princess on his watch.

Inside the school, whispers had already begun. There had already been some talk about the bluenette before. With her being one of the only two people in the akuma class who hasn’t gotten akumatized yet, they figured that the noticeable stress she was under would due her in.

But now the whispers were revolving around the reason for the two adults who entered the building. A man and a woman, both dressed in business attire and wearing the same stern expression. They came in to get answers, and they would get just that.

Walking straight to Mr. Damocles' office, they gave a sharp knock before letting themselves in. The man, for his part, seemed confused by someone bursting into his office. His confusion quickly turned to concern as he recognized the people standing before him.

“We’re here from the school board. There’s been a recent complaint filed and we will be investigating it.” The woman’s tone left no room for an argument. “I’ll be discussing this issue with you while Mr. Garnier does an observation in one of your classrooms. Depending on what happens, we may have to pull some students out of class to ask them a few questions.”

Mr. Damocles only had enough time to realize what the recent complaint was before the man walked out. The woman sat down in the chair across his desk, setting a file in front of him.

“So, tell me about your response to the mistreatment of one Miss Marinette Dupain Cheng?”

There would be no use lying. As required with all staff members, their school issued phones recorded every phone call that took place on them. It was meant to protect them if a parent tries to deny something that they said over the call, but in this case it would be used against him. He cleared his throat, trying to figure out a way to save himself. He remembered that last time these people came in they said that then was his final warning, but surely he would be fine. He was an excellent principal, and this issue wasn’t big enough for him to be fired, surely. So he began his defense.

~~~~~~~~~~

Mr. Gariner walked through the hallway, trusting that Mrs. Monet would be able to handle things. She was slightly biased in this case, as she had a soft spot for the victims in cases like this, but she was a professional above all else so she should be able to prove well into finding out exactly what Mr. Damocles’ thoughts were.

Truthfully, they should have done an investigation at this school sooner. They had seen the news reports about the students in this class, but since Hawkmoth was a new thing they had waited. He took his victims by using their emotions against them, and since uncontrolled emotions tended to run higher among adolescents they didn’t push investigating directly as their top priority.

They had simply decided to send an email and request that something was done within the classrooms to allow for some form of relaxation or meditation to be done. That had gotten accepted without any issues, and they foolishly had allowed their attention to relax from the school. But now they noticed the repeated pattern of akumas forming from one specific class, and something had to be done.

Even without Madame Cheng’s email, they would have been investigating Miss Bustier and her class anyways. Of course, what was said in that email worried them. From what it sounded like, it seemed like Miss Bustier was fostering her work onto a student. That would be bad enough, but threatening said student to continue doing the work was an extra layer that they would have to address.

For now he tried to clear his thoughts, knocking once on the classroom door before walking in. The students were all whispering to themselves, but stopped once they saw his presence. He simply ignored them, turning to the confused teacher.

“My apologies for interrupting your classroom, Madame. The school board sent me to do your regular classroom observation.” It wasn’t true, but it would at least help to make her not mask her true behavior as much. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t be showing off her real behavior though. She seemed a bit flustered, but nodded nonetheless. “I’ll just be sitting in the back. Please just go on with your lessons as you normally would.”

Without another word, he walked up the stairs and took a seat in the very back. The woman eyed him wearily, but called the class to attention anyways. Throughout the morning, he noticed all the students at some point or another looking back at him.

The one that caught his attention though was one blonde student in the front. Not because he was looking at him, but because he was turning around to look at another student. Marinette Dupain Cheng, he had to presume. He did see her photo when looking into her file, but even without that he could tell that she was the student whose parents had made the complaint. The amount of papers that were on her desk, as well as how the other students occasionally looked over to her in concern was enough of an indicator.

There were no major issues that had popped up, but there were a few times when he noticed Miss Bustier looking at Marinette. The first came when another student (Chloe Bourgeois, he remembered her from numerous reports before) made an insult to the girl. Instead of calling the student out, Miss Bustier looked over to Marinette and waited. When nothing happened, she opened her mouth before looking back at him and closing it again. Whatever she was going to say was instead replaced with her continuing the lesson as if nothing had happened.

There were a few other times, when she mentioned the graded homework and a quiz and she looked over to the girl, only to quickly say that she would be passing them back tomorrow. He caught her looking back at him then too. It happened several other times, one notable one being when she mentioned the class’s end of the year trip. The way Marinette’s body stiffened when the teacher commented that all plans would be finished and presented on Friday was noticeable to everyone but the teacher.

Another thing he noticed was the same blonde boy from before making to stand up, only for his desk mate to pull him back down and shake his head. It was easy enough to tell why he did that when they both looked back at him. He didn’t know if it was out of fear that they would be punished or if they were hoping he would do something.

He was going to do something, of course, Mr. Gariner would never allow for this kind of treatment to continue past today, but he was required to wait until the students left before talking to Miss Bustier directly about these issues. Of course, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t doing anything right now.

A few quick emails and texts got sent out and exchanged. Another member of the school board would be coming to help with asking the students and other teachers some questions regarding both Miss Bustier and Mr. Damocles. The principal had been warned not even a few months ago that he needed to have better control on his students and staff members.

Those issues had all stemmed from one Miss Bourgeois who had caused issues and hurt students all while never facing any consequences. He was warned to not let a student get out of trouble by threatening to call her father. He was even told that if the mayor tried to actually follow through on the threats his daughter made, that he would be abusing his power and would be kicked out of his position.

They hadn’t received any complaints since then, but it was a wonder if students had been making them and they never got received. That thought was also troubling. Not all people would consider turning to the school board for issues, not at first anyways. Contacting the teacher or principal was what families were encouraged to do. The issue needed to first be, or at least, attempted to be, dealt with at the school level before going up to the school board after all.

It was meant to stop unneeded cases from clogging up and stopping them from being able to work on more pressing issues, but it could be possible that people didn’t bother trying to contact them. It could be that they were promised that everything would be settled, or even that the school board wouldn’t be able to help out anyways. Another thought was that they could have been threatened as well. If Miss Bustier made a threat to her one student without a second thought, was it possible that other students were coerced into keeping quiet?

Once the bell rang for lunch, all the students were packing up and Miss Bustier said one final thing.

“Marinette, please stay behind for a few minutes.”

Those words caused everyone in the class to stop what they were doing and look between the two. The tension was noticeable, and Mr. Gariner decided to settle things. Walking down the steps and towards the front, he addressed the teacher, not even having to raise his voice to be heard by the rest of the students in the pressing silence.

“Actually, Miss Bustier, I need to discuss some things with you.” When she opened her mouth to refute, he pressed on. “You can discuss whatever it is with your student later on.”

Seeing how he wasn’t going to budge, Miss Bustier nodded. Marinette quickly walked out, the rest of the students following right behind her. Closing the door after the last student walked out he waited a few moments just to make sure that no one else was going to come in before turning to address the teacher.

“Please take a seat. This will be a long discussion.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette was freaking out. Not only did she not get the chance to hand Miss Bustier the homework and quizzes she helped to grade and would be getting in trouble for that, but she also would need to finalize everything for the class trip before Friday. Even with all the work she did over the weekend, she still wasn’t close to done.

She hadn’t been able to book anything since she wasn’t an adult, and even if she could bug her parents to help she wouldn’t be able to since they wouldn’t be going on the trip and whoever booked things had to be in attendance.

That left the only choice being Miss Bustier. She debated sending her an email, but Tikki had actually been able to stop her from doing that, unplugging the computer and causing enough commotion that her parents came up and brought her downstairs to get away from the work laid out on her desk. Her hope was to ask the teacher before class but then she didn’t come into class until the start time. And she wasn’t able to meet with Miss Bustier during lunch since then the man from the school board needed to talk to her, so she would have to put it off until after school.

Right now Alya was dragging her off outside the school and towards her house. She didn’t register the conversation that Nino and Adrien were having behind them. It was when she almost stumbled and felt arms wrapping around her body to keep her upright, while she could see Alya bending down to pick up her dropped items, that she realized they were outside the bakery’s doors.

“Okay. You’re eating lunch and then you’re gonna relax. Maybe you should take a nap too.”

“Adrien?” She tried to turn to look at him, but his arms pulling her back to be flushed with his chest prevented her from being able to do more than glance at him from the corner of her vision.

“You need to let her go dude. Unless you want to carry her inside.”

There was a pause, and it seemed for a second like he was actually going to do it. As he was adjusting his arms, Alya stopped him.

“Let’s just let Marinette walk. We’re here anyway.”

Adrien did let her go enough for her to walk forward, but kept his hand ghosting her back. The four walked in and headed up into the main part of the house. Marinette was sat down on the couch, held down by Adrien when she tried to grab the papers Alya was still holding.

“I need to work on the rest of the arrangements for the class trip.”

“Nope. That’s not your job.” Alya said, leaving no room for argument. Before Marinette could try though, the blogger walked out of the room with Nino in tow.

“Everything will be okay.” She turned and blinked at Adrien, who was still holding her. “I won’t let Miss Bustier hurt you again. I promise.”

“What do you-”

“I heard about Miss Bustier threatening you. I don’t care how I do it, I promise you I won’t let her get away with that.”

Marinette turned to better face him. Half of her brain was trying to mentally arrange things for the class trip while the other half was too tired to fully comprehend what all was happening. It still hadn’t even processed the fact that Adrien was going to carry her earlier. Before she could even attempt to understand what he was telling her now and how he knew, Alya and Nino walked back in with a bunch of food.

“You’re going to eat then you’re gonna take a nap until lunch is over.”

“But I need to get back to school before lunch is over.” If she was lucky, Miss Bustier would be done talking to the man from the school board. Then she could try and get things figured out in time for Friday.

“Eat. Then sleep.”

Alya pushed the plate of food onto her lap. Deciding that she could just sneak out after she got done eating, Marinette began to eat the sandwich Alya had made. During the whole time they ate, their eyes kept drifting back to Marinette. As soon as she was done eating and made to stand, they acted.

Marinette’s brain was able to conjure up the question of if all her friends were physic or if they had discussed this plan in front of her and she just didn’t realize it, because they all acted in sync. Nino grabbed her plate and cup from her hands, moving out of the way while Adrien pulled her down to lay on the couch. Alya threw a blanket over her body and adjusted it as a pillow got placed under her head.

“Nap time.”

“But-”

“You will be stuck here until the end of lunch either way. You might as well just sleep.”

Marinette let out a huff, making to move only for a hand to press her down. She looked up at Adrien’s face as he loomed over her.

“I will lay on you if you try to resist Marinette.”

That reminded her of Chat Noir. Even though he had canceled group patrols, and he took over her solo ones, she had decided to go out for one last weekend. She couldn’t help herself. She was anxious and just wanted to go out for a little bit. Still, once he realized she was out and hadn’t slept at all, he ran off before returning with a pillow and blankets. Somehow she ended up wrapped up in what she could only refer to as a blanket burrito with a pillow under her head and Chat Noir laying on top of her. She had fallen asleep to the sound of his purring.

Of course there was no way that Adrien would do that. But he did. As soon as she tried to sit up again, he laid his chest on top of her’s. He was still kneeling on the ground, so it wasn’t all of his body on top of her, but it was enough weight that it kept her from moving.

“Sleep.” He said, turning his head to look at her. His breathing began to slow, and her body mimicked it without thinking. Soon she was out like a light. He didn’t want to move, but slowly lifted himself off her.

“How did you do that?” Nino asked, his voice in a whisper to keep the girl asleep.

“I read that if you are with someone you both subconsciously match your breathing to theirs.”

He didn’t say it, but he had specifically looked it up on the off chance that he would have to help Ladybug fall asleep without being transformed. His purring only happened in suit, after all. Before anything else could be said, Madame Cheng walked into the room. Adrien quickly leaned back, hoping that she didn’t notice him laying on top of her daughter. She opened her mouth to speak, but the three teens shushed her and waved her off. The woman smiled to see her daughter asleep, but the expression slowly dropped.

“You three are wanted downstairs.”

“For what?”

Adrien resisted the urge to lay back down on top of Marinette and hold onto her. She was finally sleeping, and he wasn’t about to let her have any chance of waking up from her nap too soon.

“There’s someone from the school board who is interviewing the students in your class. She was interviewing me and Tom, but when I mentioned the four of you being here she said she wanted to interview you all now.”

“At the same time?”

“No. Tom and I went separately, so I imagine it would be the same for you three.”

“You two go down. I’ll wait here until one of you gets done.”

Even if Adrien wasn’t the one to watch over Marinette the whole time, he could at least make sure she stayed asleep while Alya and Nino got interviewed. They nodded, and soon Adrien was left alone. He waited a few seconds before laying his head back onto the girl’s chest, smiling as he closed his eyes.

“Oh Plagg, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Marinette is just a very good friend.”

Adrien let out a huff before looking up and glaring at his kwami. He really didn’t want to argue today, so he tried to close his eyes and ignore the god.

“If you think that will stop me, kid, you’re wrong. I-” Whatever Plagg was about to say was cut off. Adrien opened his eyes and looked up, to see him sporting a look of worry. Slowly lifting his head off Marinette’s chest and turned to look off where the kwami was starring. Nothing was there.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, turning back around. What Adrien did not realize was that Tikki was floating right behind him, giving Plagg her signature death glare.

My bug has had no rest at all. Her eyes said. If you stop her from being able to sleep because you’re too busy teasing your kitten and wake her up then I won’t hesitate to end you.

“Nothing.” Plagg said out loud, not wanting to unleash Tikki’s wrath. He was concerned for her bug too, which was why he was trying to get his oblivious holder to realize his feelings so that she would be cared for on both sides of the mask. Of course, he could do that later when he wasn’t at risk of being destroyed.

Confused, but deciding not to question it, Adrien laid his head back down and shut his eyes, falling asleep to the sounds of her gentle breaths.

~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing that Marinette noticed when she woke up, was the voices drifting into the room. She sat up and looked around, confused as to what she was doing in her living room. She turned around and looked over the couch in time to see her papa coming into the room with another woman.

“I guess she woke up.” Her papa said, before addressing her. “Marinette, this is Mrs. Blanchet. She’s from the school board and is here to ask you some questions.”

Marinette was immediately confused and also worried. She noticed the woman’s professional attire and immediately went to smooth out her messy hair. Mrs. Blanchet didn’t seem to care though, as she walked over and took a seat on the chair across from the couch, not once giving any judgemental looks.

“Sorry about my appearance.” Marinette muttered.

“It’s quite alright. I’ve heard from your friends that you haven’t been able to rest, so it’s good that you got some sleep at least.”

She had spoken to her friends? The questions continued to build up. She knew that there was a man from the school board who was speaking to Miss Bustier, but that didn’t explain why there was this woman here and why she would speak to her friends. The answer finally snapped into place with the next thing she said.

“So, Ms. Dupain Cheng, please tell me about your experience with Mlle. Bustier. And please, be honest.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is she okay?”

“Relax, dude, her parents are with her.”

“But she should have been done by now.”

The trio had long finished their interviews with Mrs. Blanchet and were sent back to school. Miss Bustier wasn’t in class, but a sub was brought in to cover for her. Mr. Fournier was allowing them to work quietly together on the assignment, or really was just letting them have some time to discuss what was going on.

He knew that there would be whispering and notes being passed anyways, so it was better to simply let them go ahead with it so they could not feel so anxious about things. Besides, a few students were still out doing their interviews. It wouldn’t be fair to teach with several students missing due to the investigation.

“Should we call her?”

“Adrien, she is fine. We asked her parents to call us if something bad happens, remember?”

It was the only way they were able to get Adrien to leave the bakery. Even telling him that his father would be upset to find him skipping out on class didn’t get him moving. The two bespeckled teens tried to keep Adrien distracted with the worksheet they were giving, but his eyes kept snapping to the door each time it opened.

More students returned, none of them being Marinette, and Adrien was at the point of considering if he could run out of the room and to the bakery without being pulled back by Nino. So far the only three students out of the room were the bluenette, Chloe, and Sabrina.

But then Sabrina came back, and quietly explained to Mr. Fournier that Chloe wouldn’t be returning to class today. Adrien assumed that it was because Chloe didn’t want to bother returning to class, but if he was paying attention he might have noticed Sabrina’s wide eyes and flustered tone. As if she was just exposed to some harsh truth and still trying to comprehend it.

By the time the door came open again, Adrien was standing up to run to the bakery. As soon as he spotted the familiar pigtails, he got in front of the girl and hugged her as quickly as he could.

“Is everything okay? Are you feeling a bit better now?”

Marinette, for her part, did get enough rest to comprehend some things. Not enough for her to be flustered around Adrien yet, but enough to realize how he got to her so quickly.

“Did you just… jump over your desk?”

“Dude.” Nino muttered, head in his hands.

“Um… no?” It was more of a question, because Adrien truly didn’t know if he did that or not.

“Please sit down. I need to make an announcement to the class.”

It was then that Adrien realized that Marinette wasn’t walking in alone. Behind her was another woman, one who he hadn’t seen before. It also registered in his mind that if he really did jump over a desk, not only did this woman see it but the rest of the class also did. He quietly went back to his seat, but not before making sure Marinette got seated in hers.

“My name is Mrs. Monet and I am a member of the school board. As you know, we have been asking you questions regarding your teacher and your time here at Francoise Dupont. The school board doesn’t like to make rushed decisions, but we feel like this decision will be best for the students and other members of this school’s safety.” She took a pause before continuing. “Miss Bustier will no longer be your teacher.”

Before, if someone were to say that to the class, they would all be devastated and demand answers. However they had seen how she’s been to Marinette over the past couple weeks. Not just that, but once they heard about her threatening Marinette a lot of the love and respect they felt towards the teacher was burned out. Mrs. Monet had been expecting them not to be upset, and continued on with her speech.

“I am sure you might be confused as to what is happening, but I assure you that the school board makes all of its decisions with the school’s wellbeing in mind. We will be ensuring that this choice doesn’t harmfully impact your education. Mr. Fournier will be taking over as your sub for the rest of the school year. I do ask you to please be patient with getting answers to the questions that I’m sure all of you have.

“We cannot give out full details of an investigation without permission from several people, and that only can happen after the investigation is fully finished. Of course, if you do have questions you need answered you may contact me and any of the other two school board members who you’ve seen today with the emails we’ve provided you. We will be happy to answer your questions if we are able to.

“It is also decided that since the decision to remove Miss Bustier as a teacher here is affecting multiple classes, that tomorrow will be an optional school day. Students may come in to work on school work or just hang out. However you will be required to come within the first hour of school and stay the whole day if you do wish to come here. It is to ensure all of your safety. Your parents have already been notified and told that they will receive a call just to confirm that you aren’t coming to school. If you have any more questions regarding that, you can ask Mr. Fournier for more details.

“Another change that is taking place is that your principal is also being removed.” This caused whispers of confusion to sprout up, but they quickly died down when the woman raised her hand. “We unfortunately cannot say much about this other than he was breaking some rules and had to be terminated. An official announcement regarding that will be made once the investigation is finished. I wish you all a good rest of your day, and if you have anything else you need to ask or have to tell us please reach out to any of the members you have seen today.”

With that, Mrs. Monet walked out and allowed the class to finally speak what was on everyone’s mind.

“This is my fault.”

Well, clearly one student didn’t share the same thoughts as everyone else. All eyes immediately turned towards Marinette, who looked very upset at the current news. Which didn’t make sense given what had happened to her just last week.

“Marinette, no it’s not.”

“But, Miss Bustier-”

“Did you ask to have all that work dumped on you? To be threatened?” Adrien said, eye flashing with rage. A pat from within his pocket, unknown to anyone else in class, reminded him to take a deep breath and calm down.

“But what about the class trip? I still needed to get things booked.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Dupain Cheng. As your current homeroom teacher, I’ll be handling things. Everything will be fine. As for you, I think that it would be a good idea for you to take a break being class representative so that you can focus on your school work and your other activities. Your class deputy can take over for a few weeks, and can appoint someone to help her temporarily as well.”

In the back of her mind, Marinette knew that what the man was saying was supposed to lift a burden off her shoulders. After all, she had been wanting a break for weeks now. But right now it felt like all the work she had done up to this point was all for nothing.

“But, what about the plans I’ve already made? All that was left was to book things and get them approved?”

Mr. Fournier paused in consideration. It would be wrong to use work that a child was forced to do, but it was clear that it could cause the bluenette more distress if all of her work was for not.

“See me on Wednesday. I’ll have to reach out to the school board to ensure that it is okay, but if you wish we can take your plans and implement them without you having to do all of the work. For now you all can just finish up on the worksheet I gave you and then have quiet conversations. If you need anything feel free to ask.”

Alya handed Marinetted a worksheet but less for the reason of working on it and more just so she wouldn’t forget about grabbing one later. Right now she wanted to check in on her.

“Miss Bustier had this coming to her.” Alya didn’t let Marinette try and defend that woman. “She was the one who purposely dumped her work onto you. Not just that, but she refused to let anyone else help you out. Then she decided to threaten you whenever you were politely trying to figure out the truth. Whatever happens to her is on her.”

Adrien and Nino nodded, and the rest of the class would have agreed but were pretending that they weren’t eavesdropping to try and give her some privacy. Marinette didn’t seem so sure, and the rest of the class all came to the silent collective decision that they would make sure Marinette wasn’t hurt from this.

~~~~~~~~~~

Before the end of the week they found out that Chloe got expelled. Turns out all the threats she gave to both staff and students alike was enough to seal her fate. Her father tried to fight it, but there wasn’t a lot that could be done with all the evidence. In fact, he was too busy trying to save himself from being exposed of him abusing his power at the school to worry about abusing it even more.

Another two weeks passed before they found out why Mr. Damocles was fired. Besides just ignoring Chloe’s behavior and Miss Bustier’s abuse, he had also been stealing the school’s money. Turns out the pay of being a principal alone couldn’t afford him all the comic books and fancy gadgets he wanted to become The Owl.

It took a few weeks for Marinette to feel okay about things. Tikki adamantly went through, relaying out what responsibility meant for her to ensure that Marinette would take care of herself. Adrien, Alya, and Nino all distracted her when she got doubt that it was her fault more than Miss Bustier’s, and all made sure that she got plenty of rest.

With all the rest she was getting she was finally able to go on patrols again with Chat’s approval. That still didn’t mean that he didn’t wrap her up in a blanket and make her take a nap instead of patrolling some days, but Marinette found that falling asleep to his purrs made her feel more relaxed so she was okay with it.

It was two months after the whole debacle, when Marinette was made to nap before a study session with her three friends only to wake up to the purring coming from a different blonde boy, that she realized something else. A quick freak out, the two hiding in the bathroom whilst Alya and Nino looked at each other confused from their spots in the living room, and Adrien decided that he really wasn’t going to let Marinette go. Like, literally.

“Adrien.”

“No.”

Marinette sighed, deciding to just lean back into him. He immediately burrowed his face into the crook of her neck, and it was only due to her slowly slipping out her exhausted mindstate and being able to be calm around him during that time that she wasn’t a completely flustered mess. Oh, she was still blushing hardcore, but at least she wasn’t squealing like a kettle.

Alya and Nino could only stare at the two, who had emerged from the bathroom with Adrien carrying Marinette before the blond sat her down between his legs. After a few moments, Alya was able to speak.

“So… are you two dating now or?”

“Engaged, actually.”

“I don’t remember you proposing.”

“I would say married, but just because we act like a married couple doesn’t mean that we are legally married yet.”

“We’re fourteen.”

“... I can wait.”

#miraculous fanfiction #miraculous ladybug fanfic #mlb marinette #marinette dupain cheng #Ms. Bustier Salt #mlb salt #Alya sugar #protective adrien agreste

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andreafmn · 5 months

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Collision | Chapter 23

Word Count: 4.4K Warnings: medical procedures, death

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

A/N: goodness me, I know it's been forever since I've updated anything. I've been in a bit of a mental rut and nothing was coming to me, but I'm finishing up a couple of updates so I'll definitely be publishing a few things this week. Also, please don't hate me for updating the less loved Twilight fic. Speak is coming soon 🫣🫣 also also, new character 👀👀

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(Y/N) knew it had been too quiet for too long.

Well, not entirely quiet.

After the encounter with Laurent in the woods, his friend Victoria had shown up. The vampire had gone through hitchhikers in Forks like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. It had the sheriff station in Forks and La Push on high alert. There were too many bodies and not enough explanations—at least none that could be known by the public.

The pack had already doubled their efforts during their patrols, doing all in their power to run the redhead out of their land while protecting the Swan duo in theirs. They had lost sleep and had been overworked for weeks. The vampire had bested them in every move, taunting the pack with her swift and calculated moves.

But the important thing was that Bella was safe, and she seemed to be getting better. At least for the past couple of weeks, she had been better. That’s what (Y/N) thought until she got a call one early March morning.

“What do you mean Bella knows about you?” (Y/N) said through gritted teeth. “And it happened a week ago? Why am I just finding out? I literally talked to her before spring break started.”

“It seems Jacob hinted to the stories she used to hear when she was a kid,” Sam sighed. “Gotta give it to the kid. He really found a workaround the rules. I was gonna tell you as soon as it happened, but you had your exams and everything, so no one wanted to worry you with it.”

“How did she take it? Is everyone okay?”

“Well, Jake and Paul had a little row because Bella blamed us for Jacob keeping his distance from her,” her brother chuckled. “And, well, Paul got a bit mouthy, and Bella ended up slapping him—at least, attempting to—which cause him to get angry and phase. Subsequently Jacob phased to protect her. They’re both fine now and Bella knows everything.”

“And no rules were broken I suppose,” (Y/N) sighed. “But Bella now knows about wolves and vampires and somehow is back in the center of all supernatural danger. Isn’t this all just great?”

“This is gonna sound harsh, but I prefer her being hunted than you, (Y/N),” Sam admitted. “I know we can protect you in our land, but this one is ruthless and relentless. I would hate for her to have your scent.”

“Well, she doesn’t, thankfully,” she said. “Don’t think she even had my description since you killed her friend. But I thought we were gonna be more proactive when sharing information now.”

“I know, but I wanted you to at least pass that test first,” he confessed. “Look at you now, on your first week as a student doctor.”

“I still can’t believe it’s happening,” (Y/N) exclaimed. “I don’t know what spirits are looking out for me, but it’s almost unbelievable that I’ve been able to do any of this. It takes months for Step 1 to be revised and for college credits to go through. But I’m knocking on wood that these miracles keep happening like this. Might just become the youngest doctor in Washington.”

“If there’s anyone who could do it, it had to be my genius sister.”

“Thanks for the flattery, it does me well in the mornings,” she chuckled. “But I do have to get into work soon. So, thank you for this new information. I will call Bella and see how she’s doing after my shift.”

“Alright, sounds good, Dr. Uley.”

“I like how that sounds,” she beamed. “I’ll see you after work. Bye, Sam.”

“Bye, Dr. Uley.”

When (Y/N) entered the hospital that morning, she believed it would be another routine day. A couple of flu cases, possibly some broken bones in the ER, maybe even a more pressing case. But she had not expected to see Harry Clearwater coming through the doors of the emergency room, Sue trailing close behind.

“(Y/N), I’m gonna need you on this one,” Dr. Mollins, the ER attending, called. “Let’s move the patient to Trauma 1. Talk to me.”

“We’ve got a man in his mid to late 50s showing signs of a severe myocardial infarction,” the paramedic said as he pushed the gurney into the building. “He went into cardiac arrest during transport, but we were able to regain sinus rhythm. He was administered two milligrams of epi.”

(Y/N) felt stuck in her spot, her limbs frozen as the familiar faces moved past her. She had seen her fair share of emergencies during her time at the hospital and her past internships. But seeing someone that she knew completely defenseless and unconscious shot ice through her veins.

“Dr. Uley!” Mollins called her again. “I need you here, now!”

“Yes, o-of course,” the young woman stammered as she felt her brain finally jumpstart. She sent Sue an apologetic smile as she walked through the curtain that separated Harry’s room from the rest of the beds. “I’m here.”

As soon as she slid the curtain behind her, (Y/N), Eden Mollins, and a nurse started to examine Harry. His blood was extracted, his pulse and his blood pressure were taken, his lungs were listened to, and his temperature was taken. All the while, the man remained unconscious, and (Y/N) prayed to whatever was out there that he at least opened his eyes.

Every second that passed, the girl’s breath hitched in her throat. All she could do was think back at the summers she would spend in the Clearwaters home, running around with Seth and Leah while Harry watched over them, how he and Billy would gather all the kids around the bonfire to tell them stories about the ancestors, how he watched over her and Sam when her father had decided to disappear from their lives.

“I wanna run an EKG and an Echo on the patient,” Eden instructed. “And call in a CT and a chest MRI. The patient is still unconscious, so…”

“Harry,” (Y/N) choked out. “His name is Harry.”

“Excuse me?”

“The patient’s name is Harry,” she restated. “Harry Clearwater.”

“Do you know the pa… Mr. Clearwater, Uley?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You have to tell me right now if that will impair your treatment of the patient today, Uley,” the doctor said. “I cannot have you freeze like you did.”

“Good,” he nodded. “He seems stable for now, so go out there and get some background from the wife. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright then.”

The doctor slid the curtains open to reveal a teary-eyed Sue. Once he was gone, (Y/N) allowed herself to throw her arms around the woman, wrapping her in a tight, warm hug as she whispered how sorry she was. “What happened, Sue?” she whispered. “What caused this? He seemed fine last week.”

“Oh gods, (Y/N), it was just too much for him,” the woman sniffled. “It was Leah. She phased.”

“W-what? Leah shifted into a wolf? How is that possible?”

“That’s not all. The second Harry was down, Seth phased too,” she added. “He said only boys turned into wolves, (Y/N). How could it be that Leah is one too?”

“I could not tell you, Sue,” (Y/N) breathed. “This is just as new to me as it is to you. But what could have triggered the change in Leah? I don’t get it. Thought there were normally signs.”

“Well, she had been acting out a lot recently, and her body started changing dramatically. I thought she was just being a normal moody teenager and that maybe she was going through a second puberty,” Sue sighed. “But this morning, we were arguing about how horrible her mood swings had been, and she just exploded. One second, my daughter was standing before us. And the next, there was a grey wolf breaking through our couch. The shock sent Harry down. His heart just couldn’t take it—you know he’s always had trouble with it. Then, Seth—poor thing—seeing his father go down got so anxious that he shifted too. I tried calling Sam after I called 911, but Emily told me he was out with his wolves chasing that leech out of the forest. “It was all so sudden, (Y/N),” the woman cried, taking (Y/N)’s offered hand. “She ran out the door with Seth behind and I couldn’t stop them. I had to get Harry to the hospital.”

“Oh, Sue, that’s just horrible,” the girl said. “I can’t believe that happened.”

“Tell me, (Y/N). Is it bad? Is Harry gonna be okay?”

(Y/N) took in a steadying breath as she braced herself to tell one of the people who had essentially raised her that her husband was not showing good signs. How could she speak those words when she didn’t want to believe them herself? “Look, Sue, I can’t lie to you. Things are not looking good,” she explained. “With his age, his pre-existing condition, and the severity of this episode, it’s still too early to tell. We need him to wake up in order to assess the situation fully. If not…”

“I know,” Sue interjected. “I just don’t know what I would do without him.”

“Okay, let’s not go there just yet, Sue,” (Y/N) stammered. “Why don’t you call someone to be with you while we run labs? I wouldn’t want you to be alone right now.”

“Don’t worry about me, (Y/N),” she softly smiled. “I already called Charlie and Billy. They’re on their way here already.”

“Good. I’m gonna go check on his labs. If you need anything or need me here, just let one of the nurses know and they’ll page me right back.”

“That’s alright, (Y/N). I know you’re busy.”

When she left the room, (Y/N) finally felt like she could breathe. But there was a nagging in the deepest corners of her head that was telling her that something bad was going to go down. Yet, she wanted to listen to the rational side of her brain. Harry was in the best place to receive treatment if another episode were to happen. She had to trust that they would be able to help him. She simply had to.

The girl busied herself with other patients’ labs and filing anything that kept her as far away from Harry’s results as possible. She couldn’t face another loss so quickly. Not yet. She wasn’t sure if her heart could take it.

During her short life, (Y/N) had faced too many grievances that had forced her to grow up too quickly. Her father had walked out of her life when she was too young, and she needed him the most, forcing her mother to spend too much time at work and too little time at home. Most of the time, it was only Sam and her at home dealing with their schoolwork and food. Then, right as they were learning how to be the dynamic duo, she was accepted at St. Agustine Prep, and she had to learn how to be by herself for the better part of four years. After, she met the man she thought would be her future, and he ripped her heart apart like it hadn’t been fragile to begin with. Sadness was simply a part of (Y/N)’s existence, but she didn’t think there was more she could take.

(Y/N) prayed quietly. She prayed harder than she ever had before in her life. She didn’t know to what exactly, but she prayed.

And yet, the universe rarely played things out in the way she wanted.

The young woman was on her way to greet Billy Black and Charlie Swan when a loud ringing alarm called her attention. It was the soundtrack of despair, the theme song of disappointment, and the last thing (Y/N) wanted to hear. Her legs started moving before she could think twice, setting off for Harry’s room. There, the flatlining sound filled her ears, mixed with Sue’s pleas for help as nurses pulled her aside to allow the doctors to work.

“The patient’s coding, Uley,” Eden called out. “Start compressions. This is your call.”

(Y/N) was already on Harry before Mollins had finished his sentence. Her full attention was on her counts, pressing on his chest like she had been taught to do. One, two, three, four, all the way to thirty before the nurse administered air pumps. Then again, and again.

“Push one milligram of epi,” (Y/N) called out, not stopping her compressions for another three minutes. “Check rhythm.”

As she removed her hands, the screen showed a red line once more, and that pesky sound filled the room again. “Still asystole,” Eden said. “Push another milligram and clear for defib.”

(Y/N) continued her work as sweat formed on her forehead. She pushed into the man’s chest at a steady pace, even when she felt her limbs wanted to give out. Her legs trembled under her, and her heart hammered loudly against her chest, but she couldn’t stop. Even after two defibrillations that yielded no results, the girl kept administering compressions.

“Uley, it’s time to call it,” Mollins whispered softly at the young doctor. “It’s been over thirty minutes.”

“No!” (Y/N) exclaimed. Beads of sweat were falling down her face and mixing with her tears, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Not for Harry. “I’ve gotta keep going!”

“(Y/N),” Eden called her, taking hold of her wrists and forcing her gaze to break from the man. “It’s time to call it.”

“I can’t,” she trembled as she fell onto the doctor. “He can’t…”

But the consistent sound of a flatline killed her words. That was it. Her first patient was gone, and it was someone she had looked up to like a father. Despite all of her efforts, he was gone, and there was nothing else she could do about it.

“Time of death: 1542,” the doctor called to the nurse before turning back to the crumbling girl. “You did everything you could, (Y/N). You did everything right.”

“But he’s gone,” she cried. “He’s gone, and I could’ve done more.”

“No. There was nothing at all that you could have done,” Eden said. "Unfortunately, this is part of the job. We can’t save them all, (Y/N), but you absolutely did everything you could have.”

“I know I can’t save them all, but I needed to save him.”

“Tell you what, I’m gonna break the news to the family right now,” the young man said. “You’re gonna take a second to compose yourself before you go out there, and I want you to take the rest of the day off to rest.”

“I shouldn’t…”

“I know that it’s unconventional, and most doctors would have said that you needed to get used to it,” he added. “But you need this, (Y/N). This case is too personal, and I know it’s gonna take a toll on you.”

“Okay,” she whimpered. “Thank you, Dr. Mollins.”

“I already told you, (Y/N). When we’re off a case, it’s Eden.”

The moment Eden left the room, the silence that filled it was worse than the beeping and the alarms. It was eerie and loaded, and it made (Y/N) feel like it would swallow her at any moment.

Yet, the only other presence there was Harry. His face was covered with a white sheet, shielding his body from everyone. And for that, she was thankful. (Y/N) couldn’t look at his face. She knew her mind would trick her into thinking that he was merely sleeping and that at any moment, he would wake up and say the most unfunny joke she had heard of, but she would have laughed anyway because it would have meant that he was alive.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” she whispered to him. “I tried so hard. I hope you know that.”

“He does, honey.” Sue’s voice startled her. Tears stained the woman’s face, but her desperation was gone. She wrapped her arms around the younger girl, smoothing down her hair in a comforting manner. “He knows how hard you fought for him, (Y/N). It was just his time.”

“He was fine just last week,” she sobbed. “I can’t believe he’s just gone now.”

“As long as he is in our memories, he will never truly be gone,” the woman smiled sadly. “But he is with our spirits now, reunited with his ancestors.”

“Harry will never be forgotten that I can promise you, Sue.”

“He really loved you, (Y/N),” Sue mentioned. “He was always so amazed by everything that you were doing. He loved to boast about how far he knew you’d go to literally anyone who would listen. Deep down, he wanted Leah and Sam to work out so we’d be officially family.”

“I’m really gonna miss him, Sue. I wish I had spent more time with him these last few years. And now…”

“Oh, honey, no. Don’t do that,” the woman comforted. “Harry knew how busy you are, how busy you’ve always been. He was just so happy to know you were doing something you loved.”

“May his soul rest easy now,” the girl whimpered before placing a hand on Harry’s. “Until we meet again, Harry.”

(Y/N) excused herself from the room, allowing Sue to have one last moment with Harry. Outside, she acknowledged Charlie and Billy, giving them a sad smile before she disappeared into the doctor’s locker rooms. She couldn’t face another person who was close to Harry, not when she could still feel the beat of his heart under her hands.

Inside the locker room, she allowed herself to break down. She crumpled to the floor, clutching at her chest as every emotion came barreling down on her. There was pain and turmoil, anger and disappointment. But most of all, it was the harrowing sadness that she had been carrying since she was a little girl that draped itself over her, swallowing her completely and dragging her into the darkness.

Until a voice pulled her out. “Hey, hey, Uley,” Eden called as he kneeled in front of her. “Come on, you need to breathe. Take a deep breath.”

“I-I-I c-can’t,” she stammered. Her breath got trapped in her chest, tightening her lungs and making them burn for oxygen.

“Yes, you can. Come on,” he encouraged. “Match my breaths, okay? Come on, in and out.”

Eden took deep breaths, exhaling after holding them for five seconds. His hands found hers, forcing her gaze to snap to his. He continued the breathing exercises until she was finally able to match his pace. Her body stopped shaking, and feeling started returning to her limbs as her sobs quieted down. As weakness took over her, (Y/N) crashed onto Eden’s chest, allowing him to wrap her in a warm and comforting hug.

It was an unexpected embrace that she was more than thankful for. Eden had come to the hospital three months after Carlisle had left to fill the hole left in the emergency department. When (Y/N) had entered and started her clinical rotations, he had been tasked with being her teacher in emergency medicine.

He had not taken to her quickly. From her work as a medical assistant, he had said she was far too young and too inexperienced to be in the hospital. Though he had eaten his words in a short amount of time, he still seemed to hold some sort of disdain for her. At least, that’s what she had thought until that very moment.

“Hey, there you go,” he cooed. “Just keep breathing, okay?”

“Gods,” (Y/N) croaked out. “I’m sorry. I know I should be okay with death, but this…”

“You don’t have to apologize, (Y/N). Never apologize for the emotions you’re feeling,” Eden reassured. “Especially not after losing someone close to you. That is something no one could ever fault you for.”

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” the girl blurted. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but it’s not a secret that you don’t really like me.”

“Why would you think that?” she asked, his tone hinting at being slightly offended. “I don’t think I’ve given any indication of that.”

“Come on, Eden. You’re always giving me dirty looks and have gotten mad at me at any turn this whole week. It’s not hard to decipher that you don’t really enjoy my presence at the hospital.”

“Oh god, no. That has nothing to do with you—at least not directly,” he quickly assured. "I think you’re a brilliant doctor, and I’m honestly so impressed that you’re here at your age. My attitude has more to do with the fact that my parents saw you working here a week after I finally got here, and they were on me because I could have been like you.”

“What, a terrified nineteen-year-old playing at being a doctor?”

“Christ, I didn’t think you’d heard that,” he grimaced. “That came from a really childish place. It’s just that my parents have always pushed me to be the best, much to my detriment. I had the ability to jump a few grades or do dual enrollment like you did, but I wanted the whole high school experience. So, even if I graduated at sixteen and finished my bachelor's in three years, I could have always done better. So, here I am at twenty-five and already an attending, but in comes a nineteen-year-old med student who somehow was able to skip two whole years of med school and had an almost perfect Step 1 score, and suddenly my achievements aren’t good enough anymore. I’m sorry I ever said that. I mean, I’m a grown-ass man caring what my parents think.”

“Don’t worry,” she smiled softly. “It just made me want to prove myself even more. I’m kind of used to people underestimating me.”

“Yeah, I quickly learned I shouldn’t have,” he chuckled. “You’re a great doctor, (Y/N), and a great person.”

“Well, thank you,” she beamed. "It honestly means a lot coming from you, especially now.”

“I can promise that was the first and last time I ever underestimate you,” Eden smiled brightly. “Now, you should go home. Your brother just came back.”

“Came back?”

“He arrived when you were down at the CT scan, but he left for an emergency,” the man responded. “He just came back a minute after you left the room.”

At the word emergency, (Y/N) jumped to her feet and ran toward the emergency room, new tears forming in the corners of her eyes. It was a word that held too much weight even before the entire picture was shown. After that morning, the girl could only expect the worst.

Her limbs carried her automatically, her brain not registering where she was going until she crashed into someone. “Is someone else hurt?” she managed to croak out. “Tell me what happened, Sam.”

“Hey, breathe, (Y/N),” her brother instructed as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. “No one’s hurt. Okay? It was just an accident.”

“That still doesn’t make things clearer. What accident?”

“Bella sort of jumped or slipped off a high cliff while we were running Victoria all the way up to the Canadian border,” he said. “I had been here for no more than ten minutes when Jared called me and said that Jake had gotten there just in time. She’s fine now. A bit shaken up and cold, but she’s at Billy’s house resting. You don’t have to worry, (Y/N). It’s been handled.”

“So, she almost drowned, and all she’s doing is sleeping it off?” (Y/N) exclaimed. “Why didn’t you bring her here? She needs to be checked out!”

“(Y/N), I need you to calm down, okay? She chose not to come, and you shouldn’t be worrying about this. You should be going home and resting, too.”

“But she’s…”

“You’re in no headspace to worry about other people, Bean,” Sam cooed as he smoothed down his sister’s hair. “Go home, kid. Rest up. We’ve got things from here.”

“But…”

“Go home, (Y/N),” Sue interjected, a kind smile softly stretching her face. “All that’s left here is legal mumbo jumbo. You’ve done everything you possibly can.”

“I just feel like I need to help in some way. Either here or with Bella. I just…”

“You can’t help anyone if you don’t take care of yourself, Bean,” her brother interrupted. “I promise we’ve got everything handled here, kid.”

After much insistence and a lot of back-and-forth, (Y/N) finally agreed to take her afternoon off and head back home. But loneliness was quick to follow as soon as she was by herself. It sank its claws into her throat and started a never-ending stream of tears that stained her cheeks. Helplessness gripped her chest, nagging at her mind and reminding her of all the things she couldn’t do.

Before she knew it, the afternoon had slowly shifted into night, and (Y/N)’s eyes had fluttered shut in the hospital parking lot. Now, with less weight in her heart and a tight knot in her neck, she sputtered her truck to life and started her trip back home, where she would most likely repeat the same process all over again.

When she got there, the house was eerily quiet, and the cold seeped into her bones as though winter was still scratching its way to the surface. But she knew why it felt that way, and she knew it would be like that for a long time.

Other than Sue, (Y/N) couldn’t get Seth and Leah out of her head. Not only had they been sprung into the supernatural world in such a dramatic way, but they had also lost their father and had not been able to say goodbye. She wondered if they were scared or angry, if a part of them felt guilty. She knew she did, and she couldn’t imagine how heavy it had to weigh on their own hearts and minds.

She was typing their house number when her house phone suddenly rang in her hand, startling her. “Hello?” she said through the phone.

“(Y/N), hi, it’s uh, Bella,” the Swan girl stammered in her usual fashion. “I heard about… I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks, Bella,” she smiled sadly, swallowing down the knot that threatened to close her throat. “Are you okay? Sam told me what happened this morning.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. It was just a horrible accident,” Bella answered quickly. “But I’m fine now. I was actually calling about something else.”

“Oh. Uh, what is it?”

“Do you think you could come over right after the funeral?”

“To your house?” (Y/N) questioned. “Why?”

“I think there’s someone you should see.”

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sourdoughsourness · 16 days

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Assignment - Shigaraki x cheerleader!reader

A.N.: I've had this idea in my head for two years now and finally got around to writing it! This is heavily based on the book Nevermore by Kelly Creagh. I read it eight years ago and this scene has lived rent free in my head ever since. I highly recommend reading it if this is at all appealing to you, it's written much better too. I've also never posted on here before so I'm so sorry if the spacing or anything is off.

I haven't decided yet if I want to turn this into a full fic or leave it as a one shot (or 2-3 parts because let me tell you, there's more than one scene from this book I can't get out of my head) If I did continue I'd probably base it off the book for the first bit then branch off into its own plot. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! I'm very rusty at writing but I tried!

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Class was so boring. It was no different from any other day really. This class was always boring. As much as you tried you couldn't bring yourself to care about the material. Your teacher had insisted since the beginning of the year that this class was important, but he was just another old man obsessed with the past. If it was a history class you'd understand more, but you couldn't find a reason to care about dusty old books despite them being praised as 'classics'. You shuddered just thinking about what he'd have you guys read next.

The clock ticked painfully slowly. You knew time always seemed to go slower when you watched it so you forced yourself to look away. Twenty more minutes. You could handle that. Just 4 sets of 5 minutes. That didn't sound too bad.

Mr. Swanson's voice droned on. It was barely background noise to your boredom. Seventeen minutes until lunch. You wanted to be with your friends and boyfriend doing literally anything but this. Mina hadn't finished spilling tea earlier and you were desperate to hear the rest.

Your thoughts were cut short when you heard the words 'group project'. All your senses came back as you focused on those two words which were pretty much the last things you wanted to hear. No no no no no! None of your friends were in this class! You knew basically anyone would want to work with you, but you work with any of them? Your classmates were about as lame as your dusty old teacher.

"I'm sure you've all heard plenty about this project from the seniors," Mr. Swanson's voice rang out. The whole class groaned. Everyone knew what was coming next but you still tried to deny it. Please no, anything but this, you practically begged the universe.

"The Swanson Project," he declared. Everything came screeching to a halt. Suddenly reading a dusty old book didn't sound too bad. Everyone knew about the Swanson Project. It was basically the most infamous assignment in the whole school. You couldn't imagine a single person enjoying it. Then again there was probably some freak out there who was looking forward to it, after all, Mr. Swanson existed didn't he?

The project would already be bad enough, but you knew it was a partner project and whether partners were assigned or not you were pretty much fucked. Not a single friend, or even friendly acquaintance, was in the room. It was just your luck. All your friends had plenty of classes together but somehow you ended up with the unluckiest schedule possible.

Mr. Swanson went around his desk gathering a monster of a syllabus which did not ease your worries at all. You knew this project was huge, but just coming to terms with the sheer amount of time you'd be spending with all these nobodies made you want to bash your head into your desk. You could practically hear your friends laughing already.

"Now, just in case you aren't aware of what the Swanson Project is, let me explain." Your teacher announced walking back to the front of the class. "This project will consist of both a presentation and a 10 page paper. It must be detailed. You and your partner will choose any famous author. In the spirit of Halloween, the author needs to be dead. No current authors please. You will need to work closely on this project with a partner and it will be completed outside of class."

Your annoyance was palpable and you were convinced anyone within a 5 mile radius could feel it. Not only did you have to work with some extra - as your boyfriend would call it - but it had to be outside of school? If you didn't need the stupid credit you'd be tempted to drop this class.

You couldn't imagine sitting down and reading through all those papers. Mr. Swanson would love it, you bet. He'd probably enjoy every second.

Taking the time to finally scan the room and actually see who was around you, you spotted Tenya Iida. He was an obnoxious rule follower, but you knew how smart he was and he seemed like your best shot. Maybe you could slink your way over there, the seat next to him was vacant after all.

Just as you were ready to get up and head over, Mr. Swanson's voice brought you to a screeching halt. "All partners were selected at random. I will read your names off a list then you will have the last ten minutes of class to brainstorm."

Random? He chose the pairings randomly?? Now you really wanted to bash your head into the desk. God, why'd you have to take this stupid class anyway. Math and Science you could deal with. They made sense to you. Analyzing the colour of a light in an old novel didn't. Maybe you'd get lucky? That seemed unlikely, you frowned.

"Tenya Iida and Hanta Sero," Your teacher's voice called out. Well fuck, there goes your luck. You knew you sounded ungrateful but god, group projects sucked.

Mr. Swanson called out more names causing the students around you to start moving around. Was no one going to protest? Everyone was just accepting how unfair the system was?

"(Y/N) and Tomura Shigaraki."

What?

No.

No no no. No way.

No fucking way.

This had to be a cruel joke.

You turned your head slowly to look at your new partner. God even just thinking that screamed all sorts of wrong. Why did it have to be him? You didn't know what you did to deserve this cruelty but it must have been something horrible.

He sat far in the back corner slumped and staring at the wall. His long blue hair draped around him practically covering his face. He wasn't even looking for you. You had to hold back a scoff. This could not be happening.

You were on the verge of marching up to Mr. Swanson and asking for a new partner. Literally anybody but him. You had no clue how many of the freaky rumors about him were true, but you definitely didn't want to find out yourself. Unfortunately you knew asking to switch partners would go about as well as asking a pig to sprout wings and fly.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad? You bit your lip and grimaced. Even you weren't that delusional. With a sigh you got up to head over to your partner.

Shigaraki was lost in his curtain of white hair and hadn't even acknowledged your presence. What was up with this freak? Like hello? You were supposed to be working on a project. He wasn't even sparing you a glance.

Your eyes wandered to the clock. Seven more minutes, you could do this.

Did he drink blood like the rumors said? You knew that thought was insane yet seemed totally possible. Did he talk to himself and practice witchcraft like you'd heard people whisper about? Maybe he'd teach you so you could curse Mr. Swanson, you thought bitterly.

He was slouched in his seat wearing a black t-shirt, black jeans, and ratty old red shoes. His Nintendo switch sat beside him on the table. You didn't know much about Shigaraki, but you did know his father was insanely rich, like stupidly rich. That led to Shigaraki getting away with practically anything - including playing games in class apparently.

You set your notebook down as loudly as you could without fully slamming it to get his attention. He finally looked at you with a bored stare. God, had he never heard of chapstick? Maybe some moisturizer?

"I'm not doing this project alone," you declared. Because really, what else could you say to him? You refused to be stuck doing all the work.

His bored stare turned into a glare. "Did I say that?" He snapped. His voice was scratchy and you were pretty sure you'd rather listen to nails on a chalkboard than listen to him right now.

"No." You wanted to just walk out then and there. Maybe the credit wasn't worth it. Mina would never believe this. Getting paired up with the biggest freak? It was unbelievable. "I just wanted to make that clear because you weren't saying a single thing." You finally slid into the chair next to his, albeit reluctantly.

Two groups had already gotten up to leave, having chosen their projects. You couldn't help the envy bubbling up. Why couldn't Shigaraki act like a normal person? He apparently wasn't in any hurry to leave.

Maybe Mr. Swanson's pairings weren't random and this was his idea of a sick joke. This is what you get for turning in your last assignment late, you thought bitterly.

"I'm not doing it all either I hope you know. I know you little cheerleaders have brains the size of a peanut, but that doesn't mean I'll do it all," he sneered as he finally looked you in the eyes. You hated him already.

His red eyes were intense making you want to turn away, but you refused to back down. It was like a predator sizing up its prey. You refused to be the prey.

Your chest was flooded with discomfort. Who even was this guy? Who shit in his cereal? Your gaze moved to the scars on his neck. You'd heard about him scratching himself raw before, but seeing the scars up close still caught you off guard.

Shigaraki leaned in closer causing you to meet his intense eyes again.

"What are you staring at?" He whispered.

You drew back instantly, face feeling hot. That's it, you were outta here. Your hand shot up in the air as you mentally begged Mr. Swanson to show you mercy just this once. You were not doing this today.

You heard a slow ominous shuffle behind you. Your whole body went rigid. You slowly lowered your hand and looked up. There he was, towering over you. Tall and so very pale.

You bit back a protest as he took your hand in his. You gaped as his long slender fingers gripped your hand, his pinky slightly raised. All you could do was stare, unblinking, as a black appeared and began moving against your skin. The tip was as cold and sharp as his eyes.

What. The. Fuck. Was he writing on you??

You couldn't make a sound if you tried.

His face remained unchanging, just as emotionless as before as he carefully slid the pen over your skin. The pointed tip of the pen slightly tickled creating a knot in your stomach. You couldn't even begin to comprehend what was happening. You were so shocked. All you could do was stare at his pale fingers.

At last he finished and released your hand. With one final cold piercing look he turned away, snatching his switch and bag from the desk beside you. "Don't call after nine," he said as he walked right out the door.

Your face burned and your skin tingled where he had just touched you. Finally snapping out of whatever daze you were in, you scanned the room. You were afraid to see who noticed. What would people say? You let out a small sigh of relief. No one had noticed. Thank god.

Finally you looked down at your hand. In black ink he had written "S - 555-0710”

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #mha x reader #bnha x fem!reader

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rorywritesjunk · 8 months

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Be gentle with yourself as you uncover Your best kept secrets yet to be discovered

Buggy meets an infamous pirate who dabbles in magic that everyone seems to be after, but they only have eyes for Buggy. Why is he so special? Rating: PGish. Warning: None. Buggy is unhappy and doesn't want strangers touching him without asking first. A/N: My "Howl's Moving Castle" fic based off the movie because I never read the book. It will have different moments than the movie just to omit some things. This story uses "You" but I couldn't not give the character a name and for some reason "Shore" is what I thought of. And Shore is referred to as they/them, nonbinary, and breaks hearts wherever they go. Buggy is Sophie in this fic, is 22, and not always in a good mood.

Title comes from "Better In The Morning" by Birdtalker.

TAGLIST: @fanaticsnail

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4

Chapter I

The final performance of the evening finished. The final bows given as the lights faded and the music played the performers out. Buggy stood to the side and out of the spotlights, arms crossed with a scowl as he watched his companions soak up the attention: the attention he deserved for all that he did for them but he was never thanked. Sewing costumes, fixing props, the makeup, cleaning up before, during, and after each performance. And every night Buggy was there, ready to do what was needed to ensure the circus lived on.

It was frustrating. He had been a promising performer, up and coming, his former ring master said so, but when he died and another took over, Buggy’s chances were destroyed. He had to stay at the bottom of the pile, taking care of everyone and everything. It was hard, he watched as a child how the circus was built up, but now it lacked the flash, the passion, the creativity he once knew, and no one would listen to him. Years of being pushed aside took its toll on Buggy. He stopped offering suggestions, only staying around to try and maintain the image of the circus he once knew.

He spent hours cleaning, ignoring the chattering voices of the performers. Their latest bit of gossip was of a notorious pirate, one who stole the hearts of beautiful men and women at every town they went to. He heard a jab made at his expense, Buggy’s lucky, he has nothing to worry about! followed by laughter. They always said things like that, figuring he didn’t hear them. Their voices often carried through the tent.

Assholes, all of them.

He was done hours later and the last one to leave. His home was the tent, wherever it went, but some nights he needed to get away. A walk around the town would be nice. The circus was never around in a town for too long, a few weeks at most, before packing up and leaving to the next one. He could always stay behind, Buggy knew that; he was young enough to start a new career. At just 22 he had his whole life ahead of him, but his heart was in the tent. He couldn’t leave it, not ever.

He grabbed his jacket and pulled it on before heading off the grounds and into the night. The town had seemed quiet so far, a nice change from some of the rowdier places they had been.

It was nice to take some time to think without the noise of the crowds, of the performers, just to be by himself without anyone else around.

Except he walked past a Marine after ducking down an alleyway, one who was much bigger than Buggy, who stopped in front of him and blocked his path with a drunken grin. He leaned forward, using the corner of the building for balance as he looked Buggy up and down. Buggy could smell the alcohol on his breath and grimaced.

“Is the circus in town?” The Marine laughed. “Can you do any tricks, jester?”

Buggy hesitated for a moment. If he fought back, he’d be thrown in jail and no one would bail him out, so it wasn’t worth it. Instead, he stepped around him, choosing to ignore him, but there was another one waiting.

“Wow, you found a funny lookin’ clown!” The other Marine chuckled as he reached up to touch Buggy’s hair. “This a wig?”

“You forgot to take your nose off!” The first Marine added with a laugh. Buggy took a step back, the urge to fight growing though the little voice inside him said don’t, not worth it, but it was so hard to not give in. He wanted so badly to fight back but what would be the use? The two started to crowd him, taking up his space, and before Buggy could scream at them to back off, a hand was on his shoulder. It wasn’t one of the Marines, the touch was too warm, too gentle, and when he turned to see the visitor, his voice was caught in his throat.

The first thing he noticed was your hair, white as snow, cropped above your shoulders with barrettes keeping your hair out of your face. Hazel eyes shining bright in the darkness and for a moment Buggy thought maybe he saw the stars reflected in them. You were shorter than Buggy by a few inches, he had to look down at you to see your face. You tugged him close to you, keeping your hand on his shoulder as you smiled at the two drunks. “Sorry I’m late! We need to get going if we want to make our dinner reservation.”

“Wait-”

The two Marines tried to step in to stop but with a flick of your wrist they both went still before turning and marching in the direction Buggy came from. He stared in shock as they marched, invisible strings controlling their actions. You gave his shoulder a squeeze, catching his attention. He turned to look at you, meeting your eyes for just a moment before he looked away.

“Let me drop you off at home. I want to make sure you’re safe.” You said with a smile. “Can I hold your hand?”

“Can you- what? Why?!” He demanded, unconsciously reaching for your hand. You grasped it in yours, the warmth was still there and he was glad it was dark so you didn't see his red cheeks. You pulled him closer, glancing behind him before grinning.

“I'm being followed. This will be faster.” You said as you took his other hand in yours. “I hope you're not afraid of heights.”

“Afraid of heights?” He repeated, confused.

Before Buggy could register what you said, you held both of his hands and jumped up, bringing him along. There was a noise below, a crash of shadows and men with swords and axes, all matter of weapons, attacking where you both just were. He was in the air. Not quite flying, but you started moving your legs, strolling along as though normal. His legs wouldn't move, he had them tucked up against his body, suddenly terrified that if he even thought of relaxing he'd fall to the darkness below.

“I got you, don't worry.” You assured him kindly, giving his hand a squeeze. “Relax and walk. You're safe with me.”

“I'm not scared!” Buggy snapped at you as he forced his legs to start moving, stretching them out below and trying to make them walk. You chuckled, leading him in the direction of the red and white striped circus tent.

“I didn't say you were.”

He glared at you, huffing in annoyance as the two of you gradually drifted downwards to the ground. The lights around the tent were still off, no one else was awake. He wasn't gone that long, but between walking, the Marines, and then you helping him made him drop to his knees in exhaustion once you touched the ground. He felt like he ran a marathon with how wobbly he felt. Was it just adrenaline? He wasn't scared. Buggy didn't get scared. But maybe just keeping up with you in the air, trying to make sure neither of you fell to the ground, tired him out faster than he expected.

Your hand was on his shoulder once again, giving a gentle squeeze. He looked up at you, scowling once more. Why were you sticking around? Were you expecting payment? He didn't ask for help, he would have been fine without you.

“Go get some rest.” You said as you pulled your hand away, the warmth gone from Buggy's shoulder now, already something he was missing. He wanted to at least ask your name, just so he knew if you were coming later to demand any kind of payment or favors later then he could be sure he was ‘off site'.

Buggy finally got to his feet and you were gone, walking off into the night, someone he wouldn't see again. The kindness you showed him in that moment stuck with him as he headed into the tent. All you did was help him, ask to touch him, which was more than anyone else in his life had done. The only other person to treat him like that was the former ringmaster, dead now six years and Buggy hadn't had someone smile kindly to him since then. Until you, that is.

The tent was quiet, the lights off, save for one lantern lit in the middle of the ring. He knew he blew them all out before leaving, but maybe one didn't stay out. Shaking his head, he approached the middle and picked the lantern up, opening the little glass door as he readied to blow it out.

“So, who's your friend?” A voice asked, low with a hint of amusement. Buggy jumped, nearly dropping the lantern as his head turned to see who spoke. At the entrance of the ring was a woman, around his age maybe, who was leaning on a mace with a grin on her face.

“Circus is closed.” Buggy told her, straightening up and trying to sound authoritative despite his voice wavering. “First show tomorrow starts at four. You can come back then.”

She laughed as she lifted her weapon up, resting it against her shoulder as she approached Buggy. When she got close enough, her hand extended out towards his face, he took a step back. He didn't know who this was, why she was in the tent, but he didn't like it one bit.

“The circus is-is closed, you need to leave.” He insisted. She just smiled at him and took another step forward, palm open and against his cheek suddenly. Buggy thought he was dunked in ice water, the feeling of her hand against his face was nothing like the hand on his shoulder minutes ago. There was no warmth, no gentle touch, and he felt himself start to panic.

“You're telling me to leave?” She asked with a smile. “Sweetie, don't you know who I am?”

“No, and I don't care!” Buggy snapped as he jerked away from her. “You need to take your weapon and leave now!”

It wasn't working. She just shook her head and patted him on the cheek. “That's no way to speak to Alvida, the Witch of the Waste, sweetie.”

Witch of the What?

“Lady, I don't know who you are, so take your weapon and get out! You're not welcome!” Buggy told her. “Get the hell out, you nobody!”

“Nobody?” The faux friendliness vanished, she was no longer smiling. She let the handle of the mace slide through her hand, the heavy head of the weapon striking the ground with a thud, causing Buggy to jump. Her free hand went into the pocket of her jacket. “Oh, sweetie, that wasn’t very nice.”

Before Buggy could respond, she pulled her hand out of her pocket, fist clenched tightly until she held it up to her mouth, relaxing her hand before blowing. Sparkly pink dust hit Buggy in the face and he coughed, waving his hand in front of his face as he tried to waft it away. What just happened? He managed to open his eyes, squinting through the sparkles, as Alvida smirked at him.

“Good luck telling anyone what happened to you, sweetie.” She said as she lifted her weapon back up. “No one will know.” Resting it against her shoulder, she turned to head out of the ring. “Oh, and tell that pirate Shore that I’m looking for them.”

“Sho-Shore?” Buggy coughed. “Who the hell is that?”

“You know who it is.”

She left with that, leaving Buggy alone. Shaking his head, he collected the lantern and headed to his room. Whatever was in those sparkles made him feel tired, his body ached a little and he couldn’t help but hunch a bit. Maybe it was that… other person, maybe they did something too. Coughing, Buggy rubbed his arm before heading to his room. Maybe a good night’s sleep will help him forget what happened tonight.

#buggy the clown #shore x buggy #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown au #one piece au #buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #nonbinary oc

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tj-dragonblade · 8 months

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Academic Conference au? 👀

Ah, Academic Conference AU my beloved. It's actual title is An Examination of the Benefits of Inter-Departmental Fraternization (by Hob Gadling, PhD) but that's kind of a mouthful so the old label still sticks. I have mentioned this one a lot in various places; it started from the smut prompts 'bed sharing' and '"Then do it already"' and has spawned multiple chapters with a thin semblance of plot by this point. The first chapter is fully drafted but needs a little revision to accommodate details I decided on later. Second chapter is maybe half to two-thirds drafted, and there are outline-y notes and small chunks of chapters three and four. None of it will be posted until the whole thing is done, because I will not finish it otherwise. And also those evolving details I mentioned.

There have been bits and pieces of this scattered in several places over the months I've poked at it and I kind of lose track of what's been shared where BUT. Here is the opening section of the fic, which I don't think has been shared before - at least not in its entirety:

~ "He can share with me."

The grateful look on the poor harried hotel clerk's face is gratifying, but Hob didn't speak up just for her.

Dr. Dream Murphy arches an eyebrow over the chunky black rim of his glasses at Hob, mildly suprised. "Dr. Gadling," he greets, considerably less agitated than just a second before.

"If you're amenable, of course," Hob adds, speaking directly to his colleague now. "It's a single, so we'd still need a rollaway bed—if there's one available?" He glances to the clerk.

"There is," she confirms, fingers flying over her keyboard.

"Perfect. Well?" He turns to Dr. Murphy. "Better than trying to find a room elsewhere? I'll even take the rollaway; you can have the room bed."

Dr. Murphy inclines his head like some kind of old-school royalty. "Very well."

"Brilliant." Hob flashes a smile, directs it back to the clerk. "I'm in 607, Robert Gadling. You can merge his reservation with mine and get him a key, and just send up the extra bed—thanks!"

"Of course." She finishes entering the changes, programs a key card, hands it to Dr. Murphy. "Here you go sir, and again, I'm so sorry for the mix-up—"

"No matter. Thank you," he says, already turning away, and Hob flashes the poor girl one last grateful smile and hurries to follow.

Dr. Murphy says nothing until they are closed in the elevator together, and then he fixes Hob with the crystal blue eyes that have wandered in and out of Hob's daydreams all year. "I. Appreciate your intercession on my behalf, Dr. Gadling."

"Think nothing of it," Hob demurs, shrugging. He catches himself fiddling with his earlobe and drops his hand. "Not like it's her fault they overbooked and gave your room to someone else. Not your fault either. Glad to be passing by with a solution. But." He straightens up, flashes his most winning smile. "If we're going to be rooming together for the whole of this conference, please—call me Hob."

Dr. Murphy does that regal head-incline thing again; his gaze, when it lifts to Hob's, is considering. "Hob," he repeats, like tasting it, and the familiarity stirs a wispy tendril of warmth in Hob’s gut. "Then you must call me Dream."

WIP List

#askmemes #thank you anon!#TJs Writing #Sandman #Dreamling #wip: academic AU

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dihydromorphinone · 4 months

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ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 i can't wait to taste you..

after watching her for over a year, tanner can't control his urges anymore and he goes to claim what, he thinks, is rightfully his.

— tanner x reader, reader/character is implied to be female and in luna's place, not really smut but very suggestive it was supposed to be a smut though, kinda dark themed(!!) but it is consensual somehow TT, stalking references, i'll definitely write a part two with smut 👅, been writing this for four months;; kinda feel like i could've done better

if you like it pls reblog!! ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

an: i wanted to try something new hehehe tell me if you like how it's written!! also dude... tanner voicelines are so cannibalistic and sexy,,, and i feel sooo bad i drank too much and i was sitting outside drinking beer with some random ahh guy at 3am and I'm pretty sure that something i took today got laced >_< this is my comfort fic yall.

tonight was oddly peaceful. the state of Montana, especially that one – someone would say cursed – town was the complete opposite of peace. with the sudden increase in crime; murder, kidnappings, disappearances mostly the city was covered with terror. the blueblood killer was definitely a real threat, a threat that is wandering free on the sickly covered in fog streets, while the poor citizens are left in the dark – and though he enjoys the exposition he has, for tanner it wasn't enough. it's never going to be enough.

he's cruel. psychotic, even. what sane person would happily murder so many of its own kind? none. and yet, there he was. enthusiastically setting feet rhythmically on the pavement, the heels of his elegant shoes making a barely audible 'click-clacks'. so much passion in each step; the same passion which drives him to inject toxins to humans and toying them with much visible sadism. tanner – the blueblood killer, had a very distinctive way of looking at the society. for him, it was nothing else than scum. trash, refuse; all the same. no human mattered to him. he treated mankind like a child would treat its toys; fun, but only for a moment. then the toy, or in tanner's case, a human can be tossed away into some corner, because it won't serve his purpose this well again. his definition of fun, however, was as cruel as he was. stalking, trespassing, closely observing his prey's emotional reactions and how the body and mind react separately depending on the circumstances and substances. his fun ends when the victim dies or acts repetitively – so he cherishes every moment of preying upon a human.

he found one exception, though – a young woman living not-so-far-away from his hideout; the captivating lady was a detective, with her home set close to the giant, maze-like forest, where the equally handsome doctor was spending his days, and if he wasn't out satiating his disgusting urges, nights. tanner has been watching her for over a year, falling prey to the female's plush lips, seemingly sweet demeanor and her abominable desires. in their own home, each human feels safe. the only place they can be themselves, do whatever they want to do. tanner pitied them - he always did. but for some reason, he still laughed at people who acted different indoors. he defied the whole purpose of safety, stripping the victim of it.

he’s stood in the shadows – where he preferred to be, for now. the thrill of being found was growing fonder and fonder on him, but now's not the right time, tanner would always repeatedly tell himself this like a mantra. like a plea to the sober-thinking part of him to let the other, more careless and darker part have some more fun. his thirst, though, for blood and flesh was just expanding more and more... insatiable, one would think. no matter how many victims would be reported, no matter how the blueblood killer's body count would go up, the urge was almost... attached to him.

through the tinted, mostly curtain-hidden windows, he could see her moving around. left and right she swayed, not getting enough sleep and forgetting basic self care because of her almost sick, he thought, altruistic urges. such a good, upstanding individual she was - someone to look up to, to worship... the woman deserved good, proper treatment only. especially from him - all the neglect is happening because his identity, still a secret, was wanted. tanner almost convinced himself that he feels pity and cries for her, being the source of her opposite of well-being, but in the end it's hard to judge and distinguish emotions while being hazed with mad, almost lusting feelings.

there was, however, no time to reflect the past actions, even if they're undoubtedly mingling with the present. he always did whatever his body and mind wanted, more or less heart. but he would be the last one to judge - there was no place for him and his 'sick' assessment. that being said, tanner finally realised he is in fact done waiting. their time together was pleasant and wholesome, but the urge will drive him to further madness if he won't do anyting about it soon. and since this isn't a mind matter, then it would be suitable to satisfy the flesh, disregarding the heart's wishes and indulge in the woman visible through the small gap in the curtains.

but his heart cannot be silenced this fast.

after searching for his trusted syringe and the mix of liquid midazolam and some other drug he put there previously, he cracked a small smile and sighed, being able to free himself after such a long time. his playtime with victims never lasted this long - this was but a miracle, something unexpected and ready to turn his peaceful, murderous life into something even more vile, dangerous and ruined. but the thought of disposing her like a loose trash didn't sit right with him; tanner was almost disgusted by the bare thought of causing her heart to stop permantly. he was having so much fun now, it'd be almost criminal... but, what is going to happen will eventually happen, so reveal himself to her, he shall.

the woman inside the cozy home was unaware of the terror right next her door, but even if she was - it didn't really matter. for her, the most important thing to do now was to catch that damned blueblood killer, to put end to the town's suffering... and her own grief. she's lost many of her friends and few family members to his wicked fantasies, and it only felt right to do something for the rapidly decreasing community. focused on her promethean task, she couldn't hear the light creak of her door and even lighter footsteps right behind her. only after tanner stood behind her, she could sense someone's presence. shiver ran down her spine, as she vividly remembered closing the door and definitely not inviting anyone, especially this late at night. fear paralyzed her, but then came the realisation.

it could be the blueblood killer. either she will get violently gutted, or she will make a life-changing discovery. and so, the captivating lady sighed, and prepared herself for the worst moments of her life. she turned around, surprising tanner. bold. she was definitely bold, unsure of the danger's scale, yet facing it bravely. his heart barely, but still, softened. endearing, so endearing... but it was too much for her. she closed her eyes right before facing him, squinting her eyes. his little plaything was even more captivating, he thought, smiling softly. though, she could never see it.

"who are you?" she asked, knowing well the answer is going to be fake or she will get no answer at all. or maybe some pistol on her forehead would be all she needed to know before her apparent, incoming demise? but she heard a small chuckle. "i'm the one you've been searching for. pardon me, miss, for keeping you up for so many nights. figured i'd better show myself in person."

his voice was oddly attractive. so pleasant to her ears, so pleasant she almost didn't get what he was saying - clearly, the murderer who got rid of solid few percents of the town's residents was before her, and he was aware of the search. well, it was obvious he will figure it out eventually, but the fact that he exactly knew that it was her... next thing she knew, his fingers were caressing her cheekbones, which made her open her eyes in a second. the sight made her lose her breath for a second.

the blueblood killer was undeniably handsome. sharp jaw, ideally shaped brows, perfect face ratio... not a single thing was wrong. he'd definitely pass as a model, or an angel, though the circumstances made her think of him as the devil. his appearance made it easy to sin. tempting. he was clearly her type, and deep inside of herself she was having a moral battle. she couldn't help the train of thoughts, all vile and lusting, all due to the bare sight of him. that didn't go unnoticed - tanner, as the aspiring master of knowing human reactions, realized she was captivated with him as much as she was with her. the syringe in his other hand, placed behind his back, almost fell to the floor. sweet, so sweet; it seems the paradise's gates won't be opened for him only.

"i've planned some fun activities for the two of us. don't worry, honey, you won't die. yet," the murderer smiled at the woman, terrified and enamored, still gazing at him. oh, how absurdly sweet she was... a perfect mix. with his large, gentle movements he still was caressing her cheek, but slowly moved down to her neck, tracing circles and various shapes. the lady was stunned - and tanner will also be as stunned as the detective, if he regains his mind clarity. but that did not matter; not for now, at least. she's here, next to him, looking at him with lust behind the pretty, sweet facade...

suddenly, the lady felt a sting on her neck. she hissed, and tanner shushed her, continuing to inject the tranquilizer liquid through the syringe. "this will only hurt for a while, i assure you. i wouldn't let you suffer for more, that is - unless you want me to," his poor, horrid jokes made her think about the event briefly, before losing consciousness. this is awful - she is awful, for even considering this monster as a human being, someone that could even potentially become her crush. but the shame can wait, she thought, as the man dressed in white lab coat and red tie came closer to her face and hovered above her, waving his hand as her eyes became droopy and eventually closed.

"good girl," tanner told her, though she couldn't hear those affectionate words. the effects were visible shortly - as if it were not for her perpetrator and his strong, muscular hands she would surely fall down, hitting herself and creating a possible injury. not today, tanner thought, not happening ever. why should she injure herself if the feared master of terror was always for her disposal? but even he wouldn't cut her too deep. the precious flesh of hers shall not be tainted with foolish, mortal-only limited bruises.

having his prized lady in his arms, he spared a few seconds more to admire her unconscious body. not like this was the first time he's seen it - this time was different, though, as he never actually held her like this. tanner closed his eyes swiftly, took a small, but deep breath and contemplated what to do next. it would be a shame to waste the precious liquid he just injected, though it was as precious as she was.

tanner knew her home well, sneaking inside when she wasn't home, and he was about to exploit this knowledge, just as he was about to exploit the sweet, sweet detective he oh-so-adored. holding her as softly as he could, but firm, he moved in the direction of her bedroom, clearly having some sort of a more detailed plan now. after entering, he put her still unconscious body on the big, fluffy bed and then went back to the living room to turn off the lights. should add some more vibes, tanner thought, grinning from ear to ear, as if it was his first time feeling happiness.

awakening from her slumber, she felt as if her wrists were restrained. and soon, she would learn her assumption was correct - although, it wasn't rope or anything extreme as she feared, no.. it was a fine, soft material, silk probably. sitting nice and tight on her skin. in her circumstances, getting tied up was the least she could worry about, and soon, she would find out; as the man's figure hovered over her body, multiple terrifying scenarios flashed her poor mind yet again. but was it surprising? no, it was expected even. her eyes became glassy, as if she'd cry in a second, at which tanner just... cooed. "oh, what's this now? i told you already, i won't let you suffer by my hand unless you want it," tanner replied, bringing his hand to her cheek and gently caressing her already tear-stained flawless skin.

the word gentle did not sit right with him, obviously. his actions were confusing to the extreme; but she wouldn't refuse anything the man would offer. not like she'd even be able to - but he made her think she has a choice and whatever happens next is up to her. what a cruel illusion - one of freedom and safety, that he won't take anything she doesn't want him to. in his mind, she was already his. equal to him, even, though he wouldn't like to see her running around with some sedatives, tranquilizing random people on the street like he does on some nights.

tanner did not retreat his hand, seeing his darling still conflicted but not showing any signs of reluctance. if anything, she was very compliant, and so he shall make sure she's rewarded for her obedience. "could you.. um.. untie me?" she asked, earning yet another one of tanner's smiles. what a silly girl, he thought, asking questions like this. but do whatever she wants him to do, he shall.

"no thrashing and squirming, okay? and i'll give you a piece of freedom," the man said, to which she nodded. she wouldn't want to cross him, never. bringing her arms closer, he slowly undid the bindings on her wrists, brushing his lips softly on the soft flesh of hers. it was somehow... intimate. the way he presented himself to her; she knew he's dangerous. one wrong move or word could probably get her killed, and yet - the way he is now with her speaks a whole different story. one couldn't just see him as a psychotic, sadistic murderer; not when his actions were those of a lover, not a killer. thinking about him in this way was surely a sin. the woman's train of thought, however, was rudely interrupted.

"stop thinking so much," he murmured against her ear. "no point in being so worried. i came here to do what i wanted for a long, long time, you know?" tanner started delicately biting the skin on her ear, chuckling a bit at his own words. "tonight, you shall become rightfully mine. i was thinking of claiming you in a different scenario but i just can't keep myself away from you, sweet girl." her breath hitched, in fear or excitement - she did not know. the anticipation, his face being so close to her own; she was surely about to go insane after tonight. and as tanner buried his face in her neck, she started trying to regain at least part of her mind's long gone clarity.

he's a murderer. a terrible person. he's creating hell on earth. she knows he is awful and she should scream in terror, but her fleshy, earthly desires are clouding her judgement a tad too much. up to this moment, she knew who he is - a killer. his sly antics tonight made her forget about his cruelty, but she shall see him as a criminal, a murderer yet again - he's going to kill her all the same, the difference will be the weapon of choice. he will stab her relentlessly all the same, but not with any blade or syringe. cursing her coveting mind, she brushed all concerns aside and let him have his way with her.

she's going to let him ruin her, deprave her - and she will enjoy every second of it.

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