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thornedrose44 · 3 years

Note

Supercorp prompt-

Lena takes an art class to de-stress and Kara is the nude model. Awkward semi- naked flirting ensues.

(A/N: So, I put my own twist on this (hope that’s okay), I made Lena a teacher just because I liked the idea of Lena having to keep her lack of chill under control and be professional in front of a class funny - though this fic went down just a really light, fluffy route which I hadn’t expected when I started it.)

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It had been going well, the first term had passed with only a few missteps and one trip to the emergency room - though, the Dean had told her that Zach had yet to make it through a single class without some sort of accident and had been preemptively banned from taking Chemistry classes for fear of taking out an entire graduation class.

Lena had never expected to return to her alma mater as a lecturer but the stars had aligned at just the right time. The youngest Luthor had reached a stage in her career where she had finally proven her adoptive mother wrong about not finding success as an artist and had made enough money that she need never paint another picture in her life again. The lack of necessity and the return to a more Luthor-esque lifestyle - galas, fancy balls and paid talks - had subsequently impacted her inspiration. She needed a change. A return to her roots and some sort of stability without losing her ability to make a personal impact with her work.

Her mentor - J’onn - was stepping down from the art department and had recommended her as his replacement; National City University had jumped at the chance of the world renowned Lena Luthor taking up a teaching position there.

She was now a third of the way through the school year, settled comfortably into her new role, and absolutely loving it. Her spark was back, and she was enjoying being in one place surrounded by her old friends. She was reconnecting with skills and techniques she hadn’t touched in years whilst simultaneously giving advice and encouragement to students that reminded her of herself when Lillian had cut her off to force her into attending business school and abandoning her dreams. She was finally able to return the kindness J’onn had given her all those years ago to the next generation of artists.

It was the second term that Lena experienced her first set of real nerves.

Lena had an artistic weak spot, an achilles heel that she had been able to keep out of her signature artistic style but she would now be forced to confront.

Life drawing.

It had been her lowest scoring class by a mile and she had avoided the advanced elective classes like the plague. Lena knew practice made perfect but she’d never had enough interest to develop her skills. Her interest had always lied more in natural landscape beauty - J’onn had said her true inspiration lied with trying to recreate her childhood memories of Ireland: emerald rolling hills, rocky cliffs, dense forests ensconced by a mystical fog that lended her artwork a fantastical element that she was now known for.

The problem lied in Lena’s lack of interest in people.

She had never really seen the ‘art’ in them.

Kelly, Sam and Andrea had spent hours over evening drinks psycho-analysing just why that might be, their two favourite theories were Lena’s family (the loss of her mother and the general unpleasantness of the Luthors) or Lena’s truly terrible dating history (their favourite topic of conversation due to the sheer number of embarrassing stories it elicited).

Lena refused to acknowledge the accuracy of both theories.

It was therefore with a sense of dread that Lena prepared for the first Life Model Drawing class that Tuesday afternoon. The one small silver lining was that she didn’t need to arrange a model - she had vague memories of J’onn trying to entice volunteers and grumbling under his breath about some of the less than pleasant eager volunteers. J’onn had a list of regular volunteers that he had accrued over the years that were reliable and just liked to help out - most of them older with an appreciation for the arts and more time on their hands than they knew what to do with. The University admin team had organised everything and simply told her to expect a Kara Danvers at the studio some time before the class.

Lena had finished prepping the studio well in advance, reviewed the relevant techniques for most of the morning and even phoned J’onn for a much needed pep talk over lunch. She had just convinced herself that everything might be okay, that she just might be able to do this, when the most beautiful woman Lena had ever laid eyes on burst into the studio.

A toned body that glinted with a light sheen of sweat barely covered by a white v-neck tucked in at the front of a pair of dark jeans that merely brought all of Lena’s attention to the bronze belt buckle that locked away a thousand dirty thoughts. Glorious golden ringlet curls bounced up and down as the woman stumbled to a sudden stop as the most piercing blue eyes imaginable behind thick glasses locked with Lena’s green ones.

“Hi, I’m Kara!” The goddess announced, swallowing thickly and stumbling forward in her hefty black boots as she extended out a hand for Lena to take.

Lena only reached out due to years of Luthor training that had ingrained politeness into her muscle memory - her brain still not firing on all cylinders at the sight of the woman in front of her. Kara’s warm palm connected with Lena’s, long fingers curling gently yet firmly around the edge of her hand and sending arcs of lightning through Lena’s body and causing her breath to stutter.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting for me for too long.” Kara continued, a bright apologetic smile lighting up her entire face and grinding whatever gears were still turning Lena’s mind to a dead - permanent - halt. “I try to always get here early to help set-up but the interview I was conducting overran - I’m a journalist, by the way - and then my bike - motorbike that is -” Lena’s mind caught on the motorbike and turned it round over and over and over again, “didn’t start and… I’m rambling. Oh, golly! I mean heck, I mean sorry.” Kara huffed, cheeks filling with air before releasing into an adorable pout. “Sorry.”

It was then that Lena realised two things.

One, it was her turn to say something and there had now been at least ten prolonged seconds of silence as they stared into each other’s eyes.

And two, they were still holding hands because that’s what it was now, it most definitely could not be considered a handshake.

“Umm… hi…” Lena choked out whilst simultaneously jerking her hand back to her side, hoping the somewhat stifling heat of the studio would hide the red blush perfusing her cheeks. “Lena. I’m Lena, that is…”

“Hi.” Kara murmured, smiling soft and sweet at her causing Lena’s heart to flip and melt and dance and do a million impossible things all at once.

“Hi.” Lena repeated dumbly - so dumbly.

“I should…” Kara chuckled, hands miming grabbing the edge of her t-shirt and lifting it up, “You know?”

Oh, god the goddess is going to undress, Lena’s brain screamed in gay at herself.

“Yeah, definitely do that.” Lena encouraged with a flap of her hand towards the centre of the studio where a solitary illuminated stool awaited. “Do you need anything? Is the lighting okay? Stool… umm… sturdy?”

Kara grinned at her, blue eyes barely sparing a glance at the studio’s set-up, “Looks perfect.”

“Great.” Lena cheered, jerking her thumb over at her desk in the corner where she had prepped her teaching materials, “I’ll… uh… be over there.”

“And I’ll be right here.” Kara shot back with a cheeky wink as she walked over to the stool, a towel awaiting her to provide suitable covering until the class had settled, shucking her white shirt over her head and revealing back muscles that would star in Lena’s fantasies for the foreseeable future.

“Yep.” Lena popped, taking a deep breath and trying to work out if she should be murmuring a thank you to God or screaming a desperate why me.

***

The class had gone well - except for the long periods where her brain shutdown whenever she studied the play of shadows across Kara’s defined musculature. She managed to cover it quite well by making it seem like she was just assessing her students’ work closely, analysing their line work and shading rather than going through an extended gay crisis that eclipsed seeing boobs for the first time in college.

Kara, on the other hand, was a consummate professional, holding a steady pose throughout and utterly unfazed by the concentrated gazes on her - though, Lena could have sworn that she caught deep blue eyes tracking her movements round the half-circle every now and again.

“So, you’re experienced doing this?” Lena asked, once the last student had departed and Kara was finishing re-tying her sturdy boots back up.

“Taking my clothes off?” Kara chuckled, shooting the teacher an amused smirk, getting to her feet and strolling easily over to where Lena was examining the product of her class’ efforts.

Lena faltered, “I meant-”

“I’m just teasing.” Kara reassured, reaching out to squeeze Lena’s forearm in a half-apology that Lena could have sworn burnt Kara’s hand print into her skin, “I’ve done this for a while now. I did an interview with J’onn a few years ago and his model bailed at the last minute and I was here already and…” Kara shrugged casually like stepping in was the obvious thing to do, like kindness was the only option - which Lena didn’t doubt for a second was something Kara genuinely believed. “I like helping out where I can. And I just kept coming back…” Kara explained, clasping her hands behind her back as she took a tentative step closer to Lena, “I was never really sure why until-”

“Hey, babe, you ready to go?”

Lena’s head snapped round to see Andrea strolling through the doorway, eyes fixed on her phone utterly oblivious to the moment she had just trampled all over. Lena wasn’t sure whether Andrea was naturally such a good cockblock or if she practiced at it - regardless of either option Lena’s sexlife had vanished into thin air since she’d returned to living in the same city as Andrea. (Not that Lena thought that her and Kara were heading that way but Lena had been enjoying the hope of it at least).

“Andrea, you’re early for the first time in.... well, ever…” Lena snarked, rolling her eyes before glancing over to Kara, only to find the blonde had taken a large step away from her and her expression was far more neutral and guarded than it had been only moments before.

“Wait, we weren’t meeting at 4?” Andrea frowned, still not bothering to look up.

“Ah, so you’re not early, you’re over an hour late.” Lena remarked.

“God, you’re such a drama queen…” Andrea sighed, finally lifting her gaze from her phone, her eyes immediately alighting on Kara with undisguised interest. “And who is this?”

“Andrea, this is Kara the model for our life drawing classes.” Lena introduced taking a protective step in front of the blonde, an action that did not go unnoticed by the other two occupants in the room. “Kara, this is my supposed best friend who is regularly trying to lose that title.”

“Oh, best friend?” Kara repeated; the familiar brightness from before returning to her expression as she looked excitedly between the two friends.

“Yes.” Lena answered, smiling shyly at Kara and immediately forgetting Andrea’s existence, let alone presence in the room.

“That’s great.” Kara grinned, blushing a light pink a second later as her hands fidgeted with her keys, “I mean… ummm…. That you have a best friend. My sister is my best friend, though I have other friends. I just mean that… friends are cool.”

Lena laughed lightly at Kara’s ramble, leaning closer towards the blonde without realising until Andrea appeared at her shoulder looking far too pleased with herself.

“Kara,” Andrea greeted, holding out a hand for the blonde to shake (Lena was comforted to see their handshake was quick, almost professional in comparison to the lingering touch Kara and Lena had shared earlier). “The pleasure is all mine.” Andrea declared, winking surreptitiously at the teacher - Lena instantly dreaded the upcoming girl’s night.

“Nice to meet you.” Kara replied friendly and sincere, before smiling softly at Lena and muttering a hopeful, “I’ll see you next week?”

“I’ll be here.” Lena reassured, watching as Kara nodded farewell to Andrea and departed, waving on her way out.

“Well…” Andrea murmured mischievously.

“Don’t.” Lena said sharply, holding up a finger to deter whatever torment Andrea had brewing. “Not a word. Not a single word.”

“Ooookay.” Andrea lied.

***

“You okay?” Lena asked tentatively, watching as Kara sluggishly slung her bag over her shoulder the pep to her step nowhere near as present as it had been last week.

They hadn’t had a chance to talk before the class even though Kara arrived much earlier to help set-up - Lena had been helping a student struggling with deadlines and a sudden crisis of confidence which prevented them from interacting. Despite being occupied, Lena had seen the fatigue weighing heavily on the reporter, saw how her impeccable posture dropped and how her students added weary lines to her expression in their artwork.

“I think you fell asleep on that stool for ten minutes at some point.” Lena murmured, brow creasing in concern.

“Pfft… what?” Kara reassured with a light-hearted wave of her hand. “Impossible.”

Lena arched an unimpressed eyebrow, “You snore. Quite loudly.”

“Oh…” Kara pouted guiltily, rubbing at the back of her neck, “My sister is going through a rough patch and I stayed up late with her last night.”

Lena’s amusement drained away to be replaced with soft, supportive care, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s doing better.” Kara replied, blue eyes twinkling at Lena’s inquiry that had them both ducking their heads coyly and sharing furtive glances. “I should get going.” Kara coughed out, though she made no move to leave.

“Or…” Lena began hesitantly, heart fluttering in her chest, “we could go for coffee? You should probably have a coffee before driving,” Lena rationalised, nervously stepping back from the blatant romantic line she was toeing, “you know for safety…”

“For safety.” Kara repeated carefully, blue eyes glowing with warmth, “That sounds wonderful.”

***

It didn’t take them long at all to settle into a comfortable routine.

Kara came early to the life model classes, helping set-up the room as they talked about the students' progress and what Lena was going to make the focus of the class. During the class itself, Lena no longer needed to flit as regularly between her students, they had learned the basic techniques enough to practise for themselves, now only requiring light guidance which allowed Lena time to either do some marking or her own art. Kara posed perfectly throughout, though Lena was becoming more and more aware of Kara’s still gaze on her as the weeks passed by.

After class, it was now custom for them to grab a coffee and go for a long walk around the university campus as they talked about everything and nothing. They would have been building towards a strong friendship if it wasn’t for the lingering touches, blatant flirts, blushes and wandering gazes.

Lena wasn’t overly sure why they hadn’t crossed that line, made that final move, but she found she didn’t particularly mind the wait. She was convinced that they had both decided that the journey was making the destination all the more desirable.

It became abundantly apparent, though, that Kara thought differently if their conversation after the class midway through the term was anything to go by.

“So do you not like my body?” Kara asked, quick and fearful, eyes looking down at the sketch Lena had done during class of a vase of flowers in the corner rather than of the readily available model.

“What?” Lena muttered in disbelief looking up sharply from her desk to see Kara paling considerably having clearly not intended to ask the question that she had blurted out.

“I… uh…” Kara squeaked, mouth opening and closing rapidly, before lifting her bare wrist up with a jerky motion and whistling in exaggerated surprise, “Wow, look at the time. I’m late for… uh… this thing. Work thing. Interview! That’s a work thing.”

And just like that she was gone - Lena wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a Kara shaped hole in the studio wall with how fast she disappeared - leaving Lena with a sinking, twisty feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she might have lost more than her regular coffee with Kara over that one interaction.

***

Lena had Kara’s phone number and they had taken to texting throughout the day; however, since Kara’s panicked question - which probably revealed some deep vulnerability in the blonde - there had been complete and total radio silence. No memes, no cute animal pics, no sweet check ins… Lena’s phone remained silent when it once vibrated with life.

Lena wanted to text or call Kara the second she had left the studio but Lena didn’t feel like this was a conversation they could have over text, so she waited impatiently for them to be face to face again, counting down the days until the next class.

Lena even took to repeatedly checking in with the admin office to confirm that Kara hadn’t pulled out of modelling; reaching the stage where Jess, the most senior admin in the team, had taken to emailing her every couple of hours to reassure her that Kara still hadn’t cancelled.

When Kara appeared, nervously stepping into the art room, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, it was like Lena could finally breathe easy again. The fear and loss eeking away in an instant, giving Lena the necessary courage to stride forward and bare herself in a way that Kara had been doing every week without Lena fully realising.

“I don’t like drawing people.” Lena announced, shoving her hands into her pockets to resist the temptation to reach out to the other woman as the blonde blinked at her in surprise, listening intently. “It’s kind of a thing with me.” Lena winced, pushing down all the reasons for why that is. “When I draw something I… kind of let whatever it is into me, let it consume me and it… stays with me for a long time after that. It’s why I draw what I draw. I draw my home because it's a part of me already. Drawing someone means carrying them with me and… that’s scary for me.” Lena breathed, glancing at the blonde to see soft understanding in blue eyes. “I just wanted you to know it’s not you.”

Kara nodded, shuffling closer and dipping her head so that she could whisper into the still space between them, “Thank you.”

“Right,” Lena murmured, swallowing thickly before jerking a thumb over her shoulder, “I should-”

“Do you want to get dinner?” Kara inquired earnestly causing Lena to freeze in hopeful surprise. “After class, that is?”

“Um… Yes.” Lena replied, nodding her head eagerly.

“Awesome.” Kara grinned brightly.

***

Kara took her to a tucked away italian restaurant that was one of National City’s hidden gems. The food was outstanding and the company was even better.

It wasn’t a date, but it wasn’t just friends going out for dinner either.

Lena would call it a test-run but that would imply that Lena wasn't already one hundred percent certain that she wanted an actual date with Kara. It was more of a date-appetiser if Lena was going to call it anything, a taste to build interest before the real thing.

Once they had finished their food, Kara didn’t hesitate to interlace their fingers as they went for an evening stroll around a nearby park, both wishing to prolong their time together.

“Can I see your art?” Kara requested; they had been sitting on a bench in front of a lit-up fountain for the last twenty minutes or so in comfortable silence. Lena had expressed an interest in sketching the fountain and Kara hadn’t hesitated to find them a seat and encourage Lena’s desire without complaint, occupying herself with people-watching in the meantime.

“I’m pretty sure the images are all over the internet.” Lena replied drolly.

“Yeah, I know it’s just…” Lena’s pencil froze in it’s movements finally noticing how hard Kara was trying to act casual, “what you said about it being a part of you, I thought-”

“You want me to show it to you…” Lena inferred, setting her pencil down and closing her handy sketchbook in an instant.

“It’s stupid, I’ll-” Kara laughed awkwardly, shaking her head in an attempt to brush over the request like it wasn’t a big deal

“I don’t have many pieces here in National City,” Lena said thoughtfully, getting to her feet and holding out a hand for Kara, “but I have some works in progress that I can show you… if you want that is?”

“I would love that.” Kara beamed, jumping to her feet as Lena tugged her back towards her campus studio, already picking out her favourite pieces in her mind that she wanted to share with the blonde.

***

Lena and Kara’s ‘friendship’ continued to blossom into something neither could have anticipated that day Kara sprinted into the studio all those weeks ago. The weekly class they shared was now always followed by dinner, taking it in turns to share their favourite cuisines and restaurants. They had also grown beyond only seeing each other on their allotted class day, sharing lunches and movie nights and spontaneous coffees as they learned each other's schedule and needs.

Lena read all of Kara’s articles and spent many an evening asking countless questions about the background to each of them. Likewise, Kara would appear for coffee with one of Lena’s artworks saved in her phone, burning with curiosity about what had inspired it.

Time spent with Kara flew by and, before Lena knew it, it was the final class prior to spring break. Her last class with Kara until the next school year and Lena was finally ready.

She had finally figured it out.

Why she had waited.

Why she had yet to seize the numerous opportunities to transition her relationship with Kara into a romantic one.

It was because she knew.

She knew from the second that she had taken Kara’s hand in hers when they first met that this was it. That Kara was it.

And that was, and still is, terrifying.

When they had first met, Lena hadn’t been ready for Kara. Hadn’t been ready for everything that Kara represented and would come to mean. She had needed the time, the time to lower her guard, to trust and hope.

And now, she was ready and she knew exactly how to let Kara know.

The class came to an end with Lena giving her students a quick speech on how proud of their progress she was and wishing them a good spring break. Kara lingered behind as was now custom, helping Lena tidy up the area before they headed out together.

“Kara?” Lena called out nervously, sweaty palms rubbing against her black denim covered thighs as her heart beat thunderously in her chest. “I was wondering…” Lena began, clearing her throat as Kara stopped what she was doing to give Lena her undivided attention. “Can I… can I draw you?”

Kara’s brow instantly furrowed in confusion, “I thought-”

“Yeah…” Lena laughed shyly, staring into deep blue eyes, practically begging for Kara to understand what she was really saying. “Can I?” Lena repeated.

Kara pursed her lips thoughtfully as she studied Lena’s expression - it was then Lena realised that Kara understood exactly why they had been waiting. Kara wasn’t replying because she wanted to check that Lena was sure, was giving Lena a chance to delay, was saying - without really saying it - that she could wait longer.

Lena didn’t take the escape Kara offered, instead she lifted her head higher and arched an eyebrow at the blonde.

A thousand-watt smile of excitement took up residence on Kara’s face as she nodded eagerly, “Of course.”

“Clothes on.” Lena clarified - she had promised herself that the first time she truly studied Kara’s body it would be in a setting where touching would not break any professional standards.

***

Lena had Kara sit opposite her in her private studio, their knees pressed tightly against one another providing a warm point of contact to keep them grounded. Lena’s gaze flickered from her sketchpad to Kara’s features; occasionally, she would reach out to adjust a lock of golden hair so it caught the light. Kara, meanwhile, had an ever constant soft smile that didn’t diminish for the entirety of the session even as she was forced to rein in her boundless curiosity to stop herself from sneaking a peek at Lena’s sketch until it was ready to be revealed.

Lena only drew Kara’s head because, though, she had spent countless hours in the presence of Kara’s naked body over the course of the last few weeks - when Lena thought of Kara (really thought about her in the way that made her heart skip), it wasn’t her abs or her biceps that Lena pictured (though she did think about them regularly when she was in her bed alone at night).

It was Kara’s eyes that Lena thought about most.

How they were so bright and hopeful whilst simultaneously melancholic and lost.

There were whole galaxies in those blue eyes and Lena knew that she could spend the rest of her life drawing them and never get bored, nor get them exactly right.

“What do you think?” Lena asked, slowly turning her sketchbook round for Kara to see.

It wasn’t finished. It was mere line work that would require further detailing but it was a good start and she hoped Kara could see its potential like she did with everything else in the world - like she did with Lena.

“It’s…” Kara began, licking her lips as she pulled the sketchbook closer to her chest like it was something treasured and infinitely rare. “It's incredible.” Kara breathed, the sincerity of her words undeniable due to how they were accompanied by a watery film to her blue eyes.

“I like your body.” Lena whispered, shattering the companionable silence they had drifted into as Kara admired Lena’s artistry.

“W-w-what?” Kara stammered, head jerking up at the out-of-the-blue declaration.

Lena reached out for the sketchbook, lifting it out of Kara’s hand and placing it on the nearby table so that she could take Kara’s hands in hers.

“You asked if I liked your body a while ago,” Lena reminded the blonde, “and I just thought you should know that I do. I really, really do. I mean really.” Lena emphasised, glancing appreciatively down at Kara’s body prompting the blonde to blush a pleased pink. “But it's more than just that. It’s become more than that. Talking after class, getting coffee, going for dinner… it's the best part of my week. You’re the best part of my week.”

“Lena-” Kara began, her mouth suddenly snapping shut as her jaw clenched and her chin lifted in determination. Blue eyes studied Lena for a long moment and all Lena could do was hold her breath and wait.

Lena made Kara wait weeks, she could therefore wait the stretched seconds that Kara needed in return without complaint

Kara got confidently to her feet, tugging Lena up with her, squeezing their hands once before releasing her so that she could reach up to tenderly cup Lena’s face. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Kara declared, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Thank fu-” Lena sighed gratefully, cut off from offering up her thanks by Kara’s perfect lips sliding over hers.

#supercorp #supercorp fic #supercorp prompt

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weelittleweasley · 4 years

Text

masquerade (part four) (d.m.)

prompt: draco malfoy was your rival in slytherin house. both of you ambitious, bold, and daring. as one of the few pureblood slytherin families left, you promised yourself that you would continue your lineage, but not with scum like malfoy. instead, you would meet a suitor at the annual masquerade ball hosted by the malfoys each year. but what if your prospective suitor is someone you didn’t expect…

warnings: language, mentions of sex, anxiety, tension, nausea, injury (snapping bones)

pairing: draco malfoy x fem! pureblood reader

word count: 7.4k

author note: thank you so much for all the love and support on this series! this is the final part! i hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! i love you!

Things were over between you and Malfoy. Whatever it was that happened between you two was done with. The ordeal of trying to pretend like there wasn’t chemistry between you two while also hating the other’s guts all while maintaining excellent grades and completing your prefect duties was exhausting. Not to mention the confession that had slipped from your glossed lips that day in the library and Draco not reciprocating feelings was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

That day in the library haunted you. Whenever you closed your eyes you saw the scene unfold. Lips pressed to sensitive skin, muffled moans ringing in your ears, the sensation of his cold, calloused hands running up your thighs as your nails dug into his shoulders. And then it came crashing down. The uncertainty and guilt that clouded his voice and his cold grey eyes empty as they stared at yours, warm and ripe and full of hope. The feeling of bile rising in your throat as he admitted his intentions as hot tears pricked up behind your eyes. For a moment, he looked sorry. But then it was washed away with a shake of his head as you ran away as fast as your legs could take you.

You felt foolish, letting yourself get so carried away with a childish fantasy that someone as evil and cruel as him would soften for someone else. You were destined to be rivals with Draco. It was foolish of you to try and derail that course. Foolish of you to surrender and admit what you were feeling. It told him that he was your weakness and now he could exploit that. Draco Malfoy was your Achilles Heel.

Your friends immediately took note of your change in behavior after that day in the library. How you quietly sulked around the room for an hour, reading and writing in your small leather journal that your mother had gifted you. It was times like this where you needed her guidance most, but you were still scared to tell her what really happened at the ball that night. Instead, you plunged yourself in work to distract you from thinking about him and your feelings. Daphne encouraged you to talk out your feelings; that it wasn’t healthy to keep it all bottled in. You thanked her, but insisted that you rather write your feelings down for now rather than talk about them. In an odd way, seeing your thoughts laid out on a sheet of parchment was more satisfying than talking about it. The way the quill glided over the paper as you wrote down the inner workings of your mind. It was satisfying.

The days trudged by and more time passed, but it was still so difficult to even look at Draco. Even if you had snuck a glance, your heart would sting and your stomach would feel queasy. Your mouth ran dry, your face flushed, and your palms were sweating. And somehow, each time you looked at him, Draco was always looking back. His eyes were cold and dry and empty. He had gone back to the way things normally were between you; hateful and bored with the other. You would instantly look away and shake your head, pushing the intrusive thoughts of him out of your head.

Being in class with him was hard, but completing prefect duties was harder. Soon enough, you couldn’t take it anymore. Being on the same prefect schedule with him was torture, completing your rounds side by side, not a word spoken as you busied yourself with walking ahead of him or walking behind him. His presence made you too self-aware and too nervous to say anything. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. You walked up to Pansy, another Slytherin prefect, and asked if you could switch shifts with her. She happily obliged, “Who’s your partner?”

Swallowing hard and sighing, you responded, “Malfoy” his name like poison in your mouth again. A familiar sensation. You once again hated his guts. It was a familiar, welcoming feeling.

Pansy twisted her brows together, “Oh. Well, I don’t think so anymore. Draco got promoted to Head Boy. Professor Snape came in here weeks ago and gave him the position. I’m filling in for Draco’s position as prefect now. So it looks like we’ll be together regardless doing prefect duties.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Wait, wait, hold on. Snape promoted Malfoy to Head Boy?” you spoke in disbelief. First of all, Draco was a horrific prefect, he wasn’t good with the first years like you were, he often used his position to take points away from houses and give points to Slytherin, and not to mention, doled out detentions if he was looked at the wrong way. “There were so many other choices for Head Boy and they chose him? What about Ernie Macmillan? Merlin’s sake, Ron Weasley is a better choice than that! If Granger is Head Girl, you think Malfoy is going to pay attention?” you ranted on and on, completely enraged that Draco had won at something yet again. You understood why Granger got Head Girl instead of you. She was the top student in the class as well as the favorite of Professor McGonagall. But Draco? That made no sense. It was like the universe knew you needed yet another reason to despise him.

Pansy observed your fuming nature as you paced back and forth around the Slytherin common room, biting at your nails as you groaned in frustration. Gently, she reached out and touched your arm. You stopped in your tracks and looked at her concerned eyes for you. You sighed and spoke, “I’m sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

She gave you a sad half smile. “I may not be as bright as you, (Y/N), but I know when something is bothering my best friend. You’ve been in this mood for weeks. Spending more hours in the library, keeping yourself up with studies, writing in that journal so often, stealing looks at Malfoy when you can, the way you tense up when his name is mentioned...” she speaks as you surrender, giving her hand a squeeze. “I don’t know all the details and I don’t have to, (Y/N). But just know that whatever he did or is doing...he’s a fool. A selfish, cowardly fool. You are so much better than him and you deserve much better than him.”

Her words make your heart warm as small tears form in your eyes. You had been so absent in your friend’s lives recently and yet they were so warm and loving and welcoming when you needed them most. Without saying a word, you pull Pansy into a warm hug as she hugs you tight. “I love you, Pans. Thank you.”

Pansy smiled into your neck as you hugged. “No need to thank me. I love you more.”

----------------

The days continued on and you were feeling better. Seeing Draco in the halls became easier, you no longer tightened your shoulders at the sight of him or held your breath when his name was mentioned in passing conversations. Instead, you made like he wasn’t there. It was much easier that way.

What wasn’t easy was seeing Tracy Davis follow Draco around in the halls like a lovesick puppy. She would link her arm through his, giggling loudly at something he had spoken, dramatically throwing her head back. Part of you knew she was doing this for show, but part of you wondered if she was really happy, if Draco was really happy. Or was this just an alliance they had made against you in order to keep you down and make you feel worse about yourself.

You suppressed those feelings down and jotted in all into your notebook. However, a part of you still felt guilty doing this, especially when your mother asked you in her letters to you how you were, you lied and said you were great and enjoying your seventh year just fine. Lying to your mother felt like you were keeping the dirtiest secret from her. It was eating away at you.

You hovered over your desk in your dormitory as Daphne and Pansy both sat on their beds, doing homework or reading. Daphne noticed you nervously bouncing your leg and playing with the quill in your hand as you stared at the parchment in front of you.

Daphne sat up and spoke, “Is it to your mum?” Without even turning to face her, you shake your head and bite your lip, trying to figure out where to start and how to tell her. “You don’t have to tell her everything, (Y/N). Tell her what you are comfortable sharing.”

Spinning around in the chair you say, “That’s the thing, Daph. I don’t even know what I’m comfortable sharing.” She gives you a sad look as Pansy closes her book and focuses her attention onto the conversation. “My family hates the Malfoy's. If I tell her that I was secretly seeing him here and there sporadically, I don’t know how she’ll react, nevertheless how my father will react...” you trail off. It wasn’t that your parents would loathe you or do anything rash to you. It was the threat of scandal amongst the other pureblood families that scared you. How would other families react to news of a (Y/L/N) having relations with a Malfoy? The threat was enough to keep your silence. You sigh, “I told Draco that day in the library that I was falling in love with him...” Your friends’ eyes widen. “I know, it’s a lot, but it was happening all so quickly and I blurted it out. But it was honest. There’s something about Malfoy that makes me tell him the truth. He’s like a magnet and he pulls it all out of me in one go. I think that’s one of the reasons I can’t stand to look at him. I’m afraid it’ll happen again,” you huff at Daphne and Pansy watch you sadly. “But back on the topic of my parents, I don’t know where to start. There’s so much to tell them.”

And that’s when it hits you. Your leather journal. You had been cataloging everything since the ball in there. There was no need to write a letter to your mother when you could just send her the pages of your journal. You spring to your feet and run to your bedside table, opening your drawer, and ripping out the pages that spoke of you and Draco. Pansy’s eyes widen in shock, “Woah, what’s that for?”

You run back to your desk and grab an envelope and seal it with wax and the stamp of your family’s crest. “No need to write it all down,” you walk to the window where your family’s owl, Athena, is perched, “when it’s already written down, is there?” You flash a smile to Pansy and Daphne, reassuring them that this was exactly what you needed. “Right to Mother, Athena. No time to waste,” you pet her head before she flaps her wings and takes off.

Daphne and Pansy look at you quizzically as you smile. “It’s all written on those pages. Every thought. Every feeling. I want her to know. I need her guidance,” you tell them as they nod. Your mother always gave you the best advice and guidance whenever you needed it most. It always came from a place of fierce love and protection. Her rationale always made you feel better. And right now, you needed that more than ever.

It didn’t take long for your mother to receive your notebook pages and immediately write back to you. In fact, it took less than a day for Athena to be right back on your window sill, perched there with a content look on her face. Hopefully a good omen.

You sat on Daphne’s bed with her and Pansy, all chatting and eating sweets from Daphne’s mum’s care package from a while back. You all turned your heads to Athena and your stomach dropped. Her letter was here.

Springing from the bed, you walk to Athena and gently pluck the note from her beak. “Thank you, Athena,” you stroke her head as she gently coos at you. You walk back to Daphne’s bed and plop down, peeling the wax from the envelope as your heart thumps in your chest.

What could your mother have written? Was she cross about the fact that it was Draco? Was she surprise? Was she scared? Did your father have something to say about this?

Slowly, you unfolded the note and took a deep breath as Pansy placed a reassuring hand on your knee. “Dearest, (Y/N),” you start as you read out...

I knew the instant we got back from the ball that the situation was one that had hurt you deeply. I couldn’t imagine what it could have been; you looked like you were having such fun on the dance floor and with the suitor that you had been talking to. And then it dawned on your father and I that the only reason you would be upset was the suitor was not who you thought it was. It would have been someone you dreaded and there is only one person in the world you feel that way towards.

I didn’t want to say anything to upset you or press you into telling me the details of a conversation you didn’t want to have or were uncomfortable sharing. But I do want you to know that your father and I are not angry at you in any way shape or form. It’s alright that your suitor was Draco and that you felt some connection with him at the ball.

Instantly, you let out a breath and relaxed. She wasn’t cross. You let out a light laugh and continue to read the letter out loud.

What I am surprised over is the fact that you continued to pursue something with him whether you realized it or not. But I should have know. Similar to your father, when you have your eyes on something, you do not give up easily. You fight for what you want until you know you can’t have it. And even then, you don’t back down. You always loved a challenge, something I have always admired about you.

The one thing that scares me, however, about this trait of yours is your liability to get hurt. Like you have. When you do see something you want, my dear child, you put everything on the line. Your feelings, your thoughts, and your heart. It’s such a beautiful thing, to be vulnerable about your feelings, and open to the suggestion of sharing your thoughts and feelings. But someone can take advantage of that as it seems Mr. Malfoy may have.

Here’s what you need to know, my darling. Even though you have laid your thoughts and feelings and heart on the line to Mr. Malfoy, you don’t have to keep them on the line. He doesn’t not control you or your thoughts or your feelings or your heart. You are in control of those things. He cannot tell you how to think or feel or live. You are the one to make those decisions for yourself. Take back your control, darling. I know you can because I have seen you do it time and time again.

I’ve told you this many times and I will say it more and more times until your heart beats to the rhythm of the sentence. You have divine feminine energy within you. Use this to your ability. You have the energy of a thousand suns blazing in your eyes. Use this to your ability. Don’t melt yourself. Melt others with it. I know you can because I taught you how.

(Y/N), I know you are brilliant in every way brilliance can take form. This is a mere set back in the grand life that you have ahead of yourself. I know you will push through this, it is just a matter of are you going to allow yourself to push through it?

As for your relationship with Mr. Malfoy, that is up to you. I can’t tell you how to think, feel, or live, just like he can’t tell you. But if you still find yourself longing for him after more time, then I think you have unsettled business. If he finds himself wanting the same thing...well, darling, I think you have your answer.

And for the record, may I just say, I have never seen you talk or write with such passion about someone like Draco Malfoy regardless of your standing with him at the time. You notice things about him, (Y/N). Just read your own journal. You notice the smallest details about him, the colors in his eyes, the way he talks, the sounds of his footsteps, the canter of his laugh. It’s all written down in those pages. The only time I have experienced passion like that is when your father wrote love letters to me when we were engaged.

Now, my child, I leave you with this. What do you want to do?

If you need me, I am an owl away.

I love you most,

Mum

You close the note before you and just sigh, closing your eyes. Your mother has given you guidance, alright, but somehow you ended up more confused than before. You pull the note again and scan over her words as Pansy and Daphne wait for you to break the silence. Instead of speaking, you throw your head back and groan, flopping onto Daphne’s bed.

The two girls both lightly laugh before Daphne says, “I’ve always loved your mum.”

You playfully slap her with the letter. “Not funny.”

Pansy starts in, “But hear her out, (Y/N). She has a point. About the way you talk about Draco...” She holds up the pages from your journal that your mum sent back as she flips through them. “May I?” she asks, seeing if she can read them out to you and Daphne as you nod your head. “His eyes are ones I can’t forget. To most they are blue. But they’re not just blue. Around his pupils are silver shards that dance around, like ice caps in the ocean. His eyes are cold, but hold so much potential. They melt when he looks into mine. But they don’t just melt for anyone, they melt for me; he melts for me.”

Your two best friends look at you knowingly as you stare at them clueless with a shrug. “That’s poetic as all hell,” Daphne laughs, looking at the journal entries. “Look here! When he speaks to me, the words fall from his parted pink lips either the sweetest nectar or the most bitter poison. Either way, I still listen to him, hanging on every last word to ensure that I absorb it all before I can spit back a response just as witty and charming as his.” Daphne shakes her head. “And you mean to tell me that the two of aren’t smitten?”

You pull yourself up from laying down. “Okay, sure, I write about him nicely, but regardless. He told me he didn’t know what his feelings were towards me weeks ago. I haven’t spoken to him since. And it’s beside the point. He’s moved on with Tracy Davis now. The window of opportunity has slammed shut,” you inform them.

Daphne lets out a wild laugh as you furrow your brows in complete confusion. “Tracy Davis?” she cackles. “Are you daft? He can’t stand Tracy Davis!” she exclaims as you remain confused. “Sure, he and Davis danced with each other at that party and she’s around him, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. He’s been telling her to piss off since she tried spreading a rumor that he kissed her in the library!” she tells you as your eyes widen. This was news to you. “You’re forgetting that I’m also best friends with the dumb blonde bloke,” Daphne smirks. “I have intel.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me!” you smack her arm.

She holds up her hands in defense. “Hey, hey!” she exclaims, “Not anything revolutionary. Draco doesn’t talk about his feelings like that, so I don’t know exactly what he’s feeling,” she says as you groan and Pansy hits her over the head with a pillow. “Ouch! Merlin’s sake! You guys are bitches, you know that?” she rubs her head. “All I know is that he was hoping to find a certain someone in the stands of the quidditch match tomorrow...” she trails off and looks away with a smile on her face.

Your heart starts to flutter and your stomach does a flip as you swallow hard. He wanted you to come to the quidditch game tomorrow. Was he planning on telling you something? An apology of sorts? That was to be suspected after the way he acted weeks ago. “How do I know that he’s not going to be cruel to me again?” you speak wearily look to Pansy and Daphne for support. “I can’t just forget that he quite literally left me high and dry after the incident in the restricted section of the library.”

Pansy furrows her eyebrows in confusion and then her eyes widen. “You didn’t tell me that!”

Daphne hits Pansy in the arm, earning a sharp Ow! from her. “Oh, can it, Parkinson,” she huffs. “I’m not saying you should forgive him right away, (Y/N). He’d be asking for too much. But I’m saying this as both of your friends and for both of your sake’s...hear him out. Listen to what he has to say. And you can move from there. How does that sound?” she asks. You gulp and slowly nod. She was right. You didn’t need to forgive Draco for what he had done, but you did want to hear what he had to say for himself.

“Brilliant,” Pansy smiled. “Now can you please tell me the tiny detail of the two of you banging in the library!” she yells as you laugh.

-----------------

You stood in the mirror and looked at yourself, nibbling on your bottom lip, nervous to leave your dormitory and head out to the quidditch stands. The Slytherin scarf draped across your neck felt tight as you loosened it to breathe freely. You flopped your hair to one shoulder as you thought about what was going on happen at the game. But you couldn’t think anymore or else you’d get sick.

“It’s just a quidditch match,” you speak out loud so Daphne and Pansy can hear your thoughts. “It’s just a regular quidditch match.”

Daphne and Pansy look at you with a smile on their face. “Exactly. We’re gonna watch Slytherin kick some major Gryffindor ass and after we will, we’re going to celebrate with loads of fire whiskey and good music. Plus, Jamie sent me a care package with lots of Daisyroot Draught that we can part take in,” Pansy tells you, walking over to the mirror that you stare at, resting her chin on your shoulder. “You look adorable,” she tells you. “Come on,” she giggles. “We wanna get good seats.”

The three of you walk through the castle, chatting about the game, making your predictions of what will happen, who’s going to score first, and making bets on plays. “If the Gryffindor stands chant Weasley at any point in the game, you owe me ten galleons and a chocolate frog,” Daphne tells Pansy.

You laugh, “Yeah, right. In his dreams. If they start chanting his name, I’ll give you fifteen galleons and three chocolate frogs.”

Daphne smiles and extends her hand, “Deal.”

The three of you are too distracted to realize that you are passing the Slytherin locker room before you halt in your tracks when someone crossed your path. The three of you stop in your tracks as your fiery eyes meet his icy ones. You look at his eyes, expecting them to stay still like they have for weeks. But contrary to what you thought, they crack under your heat and gently start to puddle and melt under yours.

Daphne breaks the silence first, “Good luck out there, Malfoy. Don’t let us down.” She smiles at him as Draco meets her gaze and he reciprocates.

“No need to worry, we’ve got a game plan for victory,” Draco tells her as Daphne high fives him. Draco slowly looks back at you as you watch him intently for his next move. “I’m glad you guys came,” he speaks, but his eyes don’t leave yours. They remain on you the whole time monitoring your reaction as you inhale quietly at his words. A small smile plays on his lips before he speaks, “I should get out there. Game is starting soon.”

With a small wave goodbye, he scurries off, catching up to the rest of his teammates as you three continue to walk to the stands. Pansy hits your shoulder teasingly. “Someone looked happy to see you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” you laugh at her.

You and your friends make it to the Slytherin section of the quidditch stands, students of all years gathering to watch the game, hooting and hollering for their house. The excitement in the air was palpable and you couldn’t help but smile. Quidditch matches were always great fun.

Surveying the stands, you try to find other faces that you recognized. That’s when you stumble upon Tracy Davis with #03 drawn in green make up on her cheek. That was Draco’s number. You tap Daphne on the shoulder and nod in her direction. “What the fuck is that?” you ask, genuinely curious. Daph said there was nothing between Tracy and Draco, but this could prove otherwise.

Daphne groans, “You’re bloody kidding me.”

Daphne, with no sense of control, stands up on the the bench and yells out over the crowd. “Oi! Davis!” she screams, drawing everyone’s eyes to Daphne and then to Tracy. “Get Malfoy’s number off your cheek, eh?! He’s got his eyes on someone else and he’s told you he’s not interested! Need I remind you of the little conversation we had three days ago, yeah?” she threatens as Tracy’s eyes go wide before wiping the number off of her cheek with her scarf. “That’s more like it.”

She hops down from the bench as the crowd around her laughs and you blush wildly. “What was that for? And what conversation did you have with Davis that gave her that reaction?”

Daphne smirks, “Let’s just say that if I catch David flirting with Malfoy, she’ll have bigger problems to worry about then me calling her out in front of the student body.” Madam Hooch’s whistle blows. “Alright, now, pay attention, the game is starting.”

Within seconds, the Slytherin quidditch team and Gryffindor quidditch team fly out on their brooms onto the field as everyone begins to cheer. You could feel the adrenaline in the stands. As you clapped, you watched as Draco flew out smoothly on his broom, running his fingers through his platinum hair as you saw his eyes search the stands for someone. His blue eyes scanned the stands quickly before they found yours as you looked back at him. Sighing, you let a small smile creep up onto your lips before a smile appeared on Draco’s. A rosy blush appeared on his cheeks before he looked away quickly and refocusing on the game. Slowly, the same rosy hue appeared on yours and you smiled to yourself.

“Did I just see that right?” Pansy teases as you roll your eyes.

“Oh, would you focus on the game, Parkinson!” you laugh, pushing her arm jokingly as she laughs.

And soon enough, they are off. Draco immediately off to catch the snitch against Harry, the rest of the teams on the field, zooming past on their brooms. Draco flies around the arena on his broom and you can’t help but watch in awe. As much as you hated to admit it, the boy was good. He knew exactly how to maneuver himself in a manner that would get him just ahead of Harry, flying just underneath him before dying upwards to abruptly cut him off. He was a skilled seeker.

The game was going on for quite sometime now and people were biting their nails. There were so many close calls of where the snitch had almost been caught but was just out of reach for Draco or Potter.

You watched intently as green uniforms zipped past maroon ones as the crowd cheered as their beloved quidditch team zoomed by them. “Come on, Malfoy,” you whisper to yourself, watching him as he and Harry bump into each other and push past to catch the snitch.

That was the thing that you noticed about Draco whenever he was doing something that required patience. He would get frustrated. You could see it now as he contorted his face and scrunched up his nose as his eyes darted between the snitch and Potter. The grip on his broom was iron as he continued to soar through the the arena, desperately reaching for the snitch before it zipped another way.

As the game kept on, you nervously danced in your stance. “I don’t know if I can watch,” Pansy nibbled on her painted black nails. “It’s driving me nuts.”

You would agree with Pansy, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the field as Draco continued to zoom back and forth and back and forth, your head growing dizzy by how intently you watched him.

Draco was growing more irritable by the second, you could tell by his body language. His mind was elsewhere as he looked around the field, losing track of the snitch. He wasn’t in the game.

His eyes darted around, but before he could realize, the bludger was hurling towards him at lightning speed. With a hit to the gut, Draco fell off his broom and right onto the grassy ground as the crowd gasped. Your heart sunk and your mind instantly yelled for you to go to him. “Oh, shit,” you whisper as you look at the ground worriedly as Draco held onto his side, writhing in pain, eyes sealed shut. “I have to go to him,” you say without much thought.

Before anyone can protest, you are running down from the stands and to the field as you can hear Madam Hooch blow the whistle and pause the game due to an injury. Draco is immediately taken to the infirmary as you watch him be carried off the field.

You follow the group of mediwitches as they bring Draco to Madam Pomfrey, a few of his teammates alongside him, trying to ease his mind. You could hear Draco speak about how they should put the alternate Seeker in and finish the game. He spoke about how they needed the win, but Zabini kept saying that the game would still be paused until Madam Pomfrey knew he was alright and didn’t break any bones. Draco groaned, insisting that he was fine and that he even thought he could finish the game, but it just earned him laughs.

As they put Draco in a hospital bed, you waited to go in, instead standing outside, biting your nails nervously. He would be just fine, but that didn’t stop you from worrying.

You intently listen in on the conversation happening inside with Madam Pomfrey, Draco, Zabini, and Goyle. You hear Draco groan in pain and Madam Pomfrey state, “Two broken ribs. Nothing too serious, but enough to keep you out for the rest of the game.” Draco tries to convince Pomfrey to let him play, but she just shakes her head and speaks, “Absolutely not, my dear. Can’t risk it. Anyway, boys, hold down, Mr. Malfoy’s arms. This may cause him a bit of pain...Ferula!” she chants as you hear bones snap back into place and Draco cry out in pain which makes you wince at his voice. “There we go. You can let him go, boys, thank you,” she tells him. “Drink this. It’ll help you feel better,” she instructs. “Now, rest. You boys tell Madam Hooch that Mr. Malfoy will be just fine. The game can go on if you see fit.”

Draco sighs and starts devising, “Put Harper in. He’ll be just fine. Keep doing what we’re doing and tell Harper no matter what Potter does to throw him off balance, push through. At the end of the day, Potter doesn’t know his ass from his elbow.” You hear Goyle and Zabini exchange a few words with Draco, making chatter.

Taking a deep breathe, you decide that now was the time to make your presence know. Slowly, you walk into the entrance of the hospital wing and watch as Draco is laid in his hospital bed, Goyle and Zabini at the edge of the bed. Other students are in other hospital beds, either resting or chatting to their visitors. You softly smile as your eyes land on Draco as you see him sitting up, wincing in pain. He tells his friends that he’s fine, but he clutches onto his side and winces. Poor boy.

Slowly, Draco scans the room and his eyes fall on you as they widen. He’s shocked to see you are there to say the least. “Um,” Draco stutters. “You guys should get back onto the field. Remember, play the offensive. Defense will fall back if we need to,” he directs before Goyle and Zabini walk away.

Zabini looks at Goyle knowingly before he looks at you, “(Y/L/N).” He smirks.

You nod, “Goyle, Zabini.”

Goyle smiles, “Have fun.”

You gulp a little before making your way to Draco’s bed and stand by him. “You took a pretty nasty blow, yeah?” you chuckle.

Draco sighs with a small smile, “Nothing I can’t handle.” You just look at him for a moment, the two of you just looking at each other, typical. You look around and spot the chair next to his bed as you point to it, questioning if you can sit with your eyes. “Please,” he tells you.

You sit in the chair beside his bed and clear your throat awkwardly.

It’s silent for a while, neither of you knowing how to start this conversation.

Draco is the first to speak, “I’m glad you came to the game. Even though you left now to come see me, I’m still glad you came.”

“Of course,” you nod your head. “I love watching you play quidditch. W-Well, I mean, everyone I suppose,” you stutter over your words as Draco smiles gently at you.

It’s silent again. This was painful.

Draco sighs, “I obviously wanted to do this in a different setting, but I’m still going to say it.” You swallow hard as you bite down on your lip, waiting to hear what Draco has to say. “I’m a coward, (Y/N). I am. You’ve always been braver than me and I admit it. In everything. You’ve always been bolder, more confident, and more unapologetic than I have been and I’ve always envied you for it in more ways than one,” he speaks. “I’m a coward to not saying anything to you after the ball. I’m a coward for not giving you an explanation for my behaviors. And most of all I’m a coward and a dick for treating you the way I did in the library weeks ago.”

“Draco, I-”

“Please,” he begs you. “Don’t make excuses for me. I know we’ve had it out for each other for years and I guess the night we shared at the ball made me question everything I’ve ever known about our relationship at that scared the hell out of me,” he confesses. He felt that same way that you did, but it was comforting to know that you were both in the same boat. “You were trying to be upfront with me about things and I only played games with you and I’m sorry. The thought of being with someone that I was supposed to hate with every cell inside my body was something that made me sick. I tried to avoid you at all costs, but at the end of the day...I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart beats hard against your ribs and your stomach is doing flips. Your mouth is dry and your mind is mush. Was this real? Draco was confessing his feelings?

“I know our families have vendettas against each other, but I can’t live that that when I know how I feel about you,” he confesses.

A shaky smile appears on your face as you deeply inhale. “And...how is it you feel about me?” you lean in closer, resting your elbows on your knees, propping your head up with your hands teasingly.

This makes Draco chuckle. “Well,” he clears his throat. “I hate the way that you always seem to show up at the most inconvenient times,” he jokes as you giggle. “I hate the way that we get along like a house on fire when we least want to, I hate the way that you know exactly how to push my buttons, but I know exactly how to push them back, I hate the way you can just give me a look and you can have me thinking about that look for weeks,” he breathes as you blush. “I hate the way that I didn’t recognize your beautiful eyes the moment I looked at them in that bloody ballroom,” he tells you. “I hate the way that I didn’t kiss you that night,” he speaks as your heart starts beating faster and harder, you can hear it in your ears. “I hate the way that I didn’t tell you how I felt about you that day in the library.”

You sit up straight and speak with all sincerity in your voice. “Tell me now, Draco,” you speak just above a whisper. “Please.”

He sighs, “I’m not falling in love with you, (Y/N).”

Your heart stops. It sinks into your stomach. The room starts to spin. What?

“Because I’m already in love with you.”

You let out a shaky breath as you chuckle. “Merlin, Malfoy,” you breathe out and shake your head. “I’ll break your ribs again, don’t tempt me.”

Draco laughs, “I’m sure you would, princess.” Your heart flutters at his nickname for you that he had given you weeks ago in the library. “But I do. I’m in love with you. I just didn’t realize it at the time, but it’s true. And I don’t expect you to complete forgive and forget everything that went down between us. But I just want to know that we still have a chance together.” You smile and hold his hand in yours giving it a squeeze, letting him know that this was quite alright. “I don’t believe in fate or destiny,” he tells you, referring back to that first conversation that you had in the gardens at the ball, “But I do believe that night happened for a reason. And you and I are supposed to be here. Together. Now.”

Without saying another word, you lean in and kiss him. Your lips are gentle on his, not nearly as rough or desperate as your other kisses have been. It’s sweet and it’s soft and it’s just as passionate as your others have been. His other hand cups your face and draws you closer to him as he inhales deeply, savoring this moment between the two of you. Slowly, you draw away from each other and press your foreheads against each other, resting there for a moment.

You slowly smile and let out a breathy laugh, “You really drive me mad.”

Draco smiles, “Get used to it. Because I’m not stopping anytime soon, my love.”

--------------------

Months have passed. Graduation was complete, you graduated second in the class right behind Granger and Draco not too far behind you. It was something you would hold over his head for the rest of his life and something he would grow to hate (but secretly love how competitive you still were).

It was the summer now, the grass was lush and green in the countryside and white and yellow flowers erupted all over the gardens of the Malfoy Manor. You admired each one as you went for your morning stroll, book in hand as you quietly read to yourself, flipping the pages every so often.

You let the fresh summer air fill your lungs as you smiled to yourself happily. The gentle breeze made the skirt of your sundress dance as you walked through the gardens, letting your finger tips brush the lush brush underneath you. The manor was beautiful in the early afternoon.

As you continued to stroll, you heard, “Love?”

“By the roses, darling!” you called out with a smile in your voice as you heard Draco call out for you.

Soon enough, there he was, dressed in fresh pressed tan trousers and a crisp white shirt. His platinum blonde hair was swept back perfectly as he ran his hands through it. “Hello, gorgeous,” he smirks as he walks up to you, arms wrapping around your waist and ducking his head down to place a sweet kiss to your lips as you smile.

Draco lips danced with a smirk as you furrowed your brows, knowing he was up to something. “What did you do?” you giggle.

He scoffs, “What? I can’t look at you and smile?” He teasingly pokes at your side as you knock his bicep with your book. Draco looks next to him as the erupting rose bush and with a snap of his fingers, a white rose finds its way his hands. “For you, my dear.” Just like he did months ago at the ball. Your heart flutters.

You smile and accept the rose with a kiss on his lips swiftly. “Thank you,” you laugh. Draco links his arm with yours, continuing to stroll through the gardens with you.

“You know the drill,” he sighs. “Rose, bud, thorn. Hit me with it.” Smiling, you think, “Rose. It’s really a perfect day outside. I’m delighted to spend the day out here. Bud. I’m looking forward to my parents’ arrival at the manor today. And I don’t think there is a thorn today. So far, so good.” Draco smiles at you and kisses your temple. “Your turn.”

He thinks. “No thorn for me either. Rose is spending the day with your parents. Bud is only two more weeks until I get to call you Mrs. Draco Malfoy,” he pulls you closer to his side. He holds your left hand up so he can see the ring that he had placed on your ring finger just three months before. The ring glimmered in the sunshine as he inspected it. “I did quite a bloody good job, didn’t I?” he praises himself as you roll your eyes.

But he was right. The ring was beautiful (and large). A beautiful diamond set in the middle of two emeralds. Draco had gotten the ring custom made for you. He had taken the mask that you had worn to the masquerade ball and had the ring made from the jewels on the mask. The sentiment was enough to have you a crying, babbling mess when he told you after he had proposed.

Draco had proposed right after you graduated. He wanted to get married and start your lives together as soon as possible. He had proposed in a very subtle way, but you couldn’t ask for anything more. Draco had taken you to a beautiful flat in the heart of London. It overlooked the city and had copious amounts of space. That’s when he told you that he had bought it for the two of you. It was close enough to Healer School and St. Mungo’s so you could both study and then work couldn’t be too far. It had a large master bedroom, a guest room, an office, and another smaller bedroom that Draco suggested could be a nursery. And that’s when he got on one knee and asked you to be his forever.

You smiled at your fiancé. “You did a lovely job, darling,” you smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “Good Godric, I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more than that,” he challenged as you rolled your eyes. “Forever and always, my love.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought. Forever and always with Draco Malfoy. If you had told yourself at the beginning of the year that you would be engaged to your sworn rival, you would have laughed in your own face. But the now, you couldn’t imagine doing life without him.

If this wasn’t proof that destiny or fate existed, you didn’t know what did.

------

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krappykawa · 4 years

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ಌ i mildly like you more than like (p.1)

— in which an incessant fan girl, a kiss, and a little bit of denial makes oikawa tooru realize he might mildly like you more than like

description. you’ve been in love with oikawa tooru for longer than you can remember. having known him for the better part of nearly 11 years, you’ve come to accept that you’ll never be more than a best friend to him. but with the help of a few irritatingly persistent fangirls and a kiss that was only meant to drive them away, a tale of unrequited love might just prove to be something more.

warnings. language

word count. 4.2k

oikawa tooru x f!reader, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, some angst

parts. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

author’s note. i started writing this a few weeks ago and it was originally just going to be a one-shot but it got almost up to 10k words so i just decided to split it up HHSKFJ

Oikawa Tooru has perhaps one of the strongest drives when it comes to hard work.

His tenacity is a thing of nature, something that awes you time and time again, no matter how many times you’ve seen him pick himself up before. It might be one of the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place.

But despite how in-tune he is with his senses on a mental standpoint, his Achilles’ heel lies with his inability to pick up on the signs his body gives him when it's had enough. Well, he can, but he just chooses not to listen.

His first encounter with a crack in that heel came in his first-year, where you had to stand on the sidelines and watch as he fell to the ground during a game with a resounded sweep of gasps around the gym. That injury benched him for more than half the season.

It was from that point on that you and Iwaizumi decided that if Oikawa wasn’t going to take care of his own body, then it would be up to you two to make sure his head is still above water.

So it doesn’t surprise you when your phone flashes with a text message from Iwaizumi during one of your shifts at the bakery.

1 new message: iwa (´,,•ω•,,)♡

Received: can you come pick up shittykawa

“Tooru?”

A figure sits slumped against the benches in front of Aoba Johsai high, his eyes closed as he lays back. There’s something beautiful about the way that he looks almost ethereal in this relaxed state, the most relaxed you’d seen him in months. When he hears his name from your lips, he slowly blinks and sits up, the aura of relaxation falling from him.

You almost regret having said anything in the first place when he puts up his guard the moment he sees you.

“Y/N-chan!” An easy smile falls between his lips, one that could’ve easily fooled anyone else. He always was very good at portraying happiness and contentment, especially when he’d been followed everywhere by people that only really want to see Oikawa Tooru, popular ladies’ man with charm that could make your mother swoon.

But you’re one of the select few that knew him before he learned that his charm was a crucial asset in his arsenal. You knew him at his highs and his lows, so the convincing smile on his lips doesn’t convince you in the slightest. That’s because you notice the way his arms seem to sit limply in his lap and the way his eyes convey fatigue rather than joy. You also know that Iwaizumi called you here for one thing.

“Don’t Y/N-chan me. Iwa texted me.”

Oikawa’s facade seems to fall at that, replaced with a troubled expression. He brings his right hand up to wipe at his face in frustration. “Listen, I don’t know what he may have said, but he’s exaggerating. I’m fine.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. He can’t seem to meet your eyes. “Well, that’s a lie considering that you’re out here right now and not in that gym,” you say matter-of-factly.

“He physically dragged me out here!” Oikawa whines, throwing his hands in the direction of your school’s gym.

A bemused chuckle leaves your lips as you move to sit beside him on the bench. Oikawa moves his bag to give you more room to sit, but you don’t move any closer. “And when has that ever stopped you?”

Oikawa getting kicked out of practice by Iwaizumi and even on select days, by their coach, is not an unusual occurrence. Iwaizumi has forcefully dragged Oikawa out of the gym before. Each and every time, Oikawa just marched right back in, despite Iwaizumi’s rage and his coach’s warnings. Even when his extra practice hours cause detrimental effects to his knee, Oikawa never seems to back down.

It was something both you and Iwaizumi had grown used to in your years of friendship with Oikawa -- his incredibly stubborn determination to somehow work himself to the point of bad health.

That’s how you know something different has happened today, because Oikawa is sitting out here on a bench rather than arguing with Iwa about how “a few more serves won’t hurt him!” (though they most definitely do, and Oikawa never seems to learn).

You turn your head to look at him. He’s quiet now, though he still doesn’t meet your eyes. His gaze is instead focused on a dog that’s running in the park opposite the school. You know that he’s avoiding confirming your accusation.

When it doesn’t seem like he’s going to talk anytime soon, you sigh. “All I’m saying is that if you really believed that you were fine, you would be using all your blood, sweat, tears in order to find a way back into the gym. Especially since the qualifiers are coming up.” You lean back against the bench as well, letting your eyes watch the dog happily run with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. “But instead you’re here, sitting on a bench in the afternoon. And from the looks of it, you had no intention of heading home.”

He still doesn’t turn to look at you, the only indication that he even heard you is the mild tick in his jaw. You try not to think about how perfectly sculpted his side profile is.

When he finally does speak, he still avoids your accusation of his fatigue and instead asks, “Why did Iwa-chan call you here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be working at the bakery?”

You shrug. “Business was slow. Besides, my boss likes me enough to let me go early today. He said I’d have to work overtime this weekend though.”

At that, he finally turns to look at you. In the split second that you glance at him, you catch the guilt in his gaze before he looks away again. “You shouldn’t have come. You already overwork yourself being the only decent baker besides your boss that works there.”

A smile spreads on your face, your tone teasing. “Oikawa Tooru wants to talk to me about overworking myself?”

“I’m serious. You work too hard at that bakery for the measly amount that they pay you. Don’t think I don’t notice the way you try to cover your under eye circles with makeup.”

You feel your stomach jump, the familiar feeling causing your lips to tug upwards lightly. Tooru has been one of your best friends ever since you moved into the house across from his when you were seven years old. You hadn’t known when it happened, but you had come to school one day last year and just suddenly knew that your feelings were no longer limited to platonic when it came to the brown-haired volleyball captain. It’s in moments like these where you wonder how he hasn’t managed to figure your feelings out, considering how observant he is of everything else about you.

“Yes, well I’m sorry that we can’t all look like we spawn from a god like you do. It’s seriously unfair how you can still look like that when you get even less sleep than I do.”

There’s only a hint of teasing in his voice when he says, “You think I look that handsome?” He turns to face you again, and this time there’s a blink of surprise lurking in his chestnut eyes. Especially now, with the sun casting golden glows on his hair and skin, he looks beautiful to you.

Painfully, it reminds you about how unrequited your feelings are. Not that Oikawa has ever outright rejected you or even acknowledged knowing anything of your feelings, but him reciprocating your feelings didn’t even cross your mind as a possibility most days. Not with the group of girls that are always vying for his attention; not when his ex-girlfriend was what everyone thought was his perfect match; not when he hadn’t even attempted a committed relationship since Yua-san broke up with him all those months ago.

“Y/N?” His voice drags you out of your train of thought. You realize that you had been staring at him this entire time.

You play off your thoughts with a roll of your eyes and turn your head back towards the park. “No,” you lie. “I just hear comments like that from your fan club all the time.”

He nods lightly, his eyebrows creasing. “Right. Right, of course.” You’re about to ask about the odd tone in his voice when he speaks again. “You never did answer my question. Why did Iwa-chan send you here?”

“He wanted me to make sure that you actually went home instead of finding somewhere else to practice,” you say. A chuckle escapes your lips. You’re happy for the change in topic.

“I am not that hard-headed!” You raise a brow at him. He pouts. “Fine. Maybe a little.”

“A little?”

“Oh come on, Y/N. Now you’re just being mean!”

“Yeah well, it’s payback. You’re a real pain in the ass.”

“In your ass, I hope.”

You try to keep the blush from your cheeks as your mind takes you in a completely different direction. Suddenly, the space between you two seems too small. “You might want to rethink what you just said.” You try not to stare at his mouth as it falls open, your mind still invading your thoughts with images that you should not be fantasizing about when he’s sitting right beside you.

“Wait.” Oikawa’s eyes go so comically wide that you almost forget your own embarrassment. “Jeez, that did not come out in the right way. Not right at all.” For what seems like the millionth time, he looks away from you, though this time it seems to be out of his own mortification over what he just said. There seems to be a blush to his cheeks, but you very well might have just imagined it.

You let out a laugh, your arms coming up to clutch at your side. “I cannot believe that you’re supposed to be the big hotshot volleyball player that every girl has a crush on. There is not a charming bone in your body. I refuse to believe it.”

Oikawa lets out a small chuckle. “I don’t have to charm you when you already love even the uncharming parts of me. But if anyone asks, I am completely perfect. There are no uncharming parts to Oikawa Tooru. Don’t you dare spread false rumors, Y/N-chan!”

An amused snort leaves you at his last three sentences, but you decide to respond on the first part of his words. “Me? Loving you? Very unlikely.” You tease, trying your hardest to keep a straight face when Oikawa begins to pout.

“If you don’t love me after all these years I will actually start crying right now and then those girls that follow me everywhere will come for your blood for making me cry.”

You chuckle again, catching yourself before you roll your eyes again. Next to you, Oikawa has his arms crossed with a convincing pout sitting on his lips that makes him look like a child. You smile despite yourself. “Okay, okay keep the dramatics to a minimum.”

“Then say it.”

“Say what?

“Say that you love me.”

You feel a small pang as you plaster a smile on your face. “I mildly like you more than like,” you say, not really sure if you’d be able to say those three words to him at this point in time. Not when you know that they’re true.

Oikawa’s pout deepens, but you’re adamant on not saying more.

“That’s all you’re getting from me, Crappykawa.” Suddenly you find yourself amused at the way you managed to sound exactly like Iwaizumi. It hadn’t occurred to you that you’d spent so much time with him.

“Call me pretty and I’ll drop it.”

“You’re so needy sometimes, you know that?”

“Very much aware, Y/N-chan. As if you and Iwa-chan would ever let me forget.”

An eye roll comes easy to you and this time you don’t try to stop it. At this point, an eye roll is almost like a natural reaction to anything Oikawa says. “Fine. I’ll admit you’re not bad too look at.”

“Not great, but I’ll take it,” he concludes. “I can slowly feel the crack in my ego being restored.”

“If you want to be complimented please go seek out the never-ending stream of girls and guys that come your way hoping for even an ounce of your attention.” You hope that he doesn’t notice the mild bitterness in your voice. “I’m almost positive that they’ll be willing to tell you just how pretty you are and how everyone in the world should be in love with you.”

“They should be, shouldn’t they?” Oikawa bemuses.

A laugh leaves your lips despite your efforts. “You are insufferable sometimes. I don’t understand why I’ve kept you around for so long.”

“There you go with the insults again,” he tskes. “Have you and Iwa-chan been spending time together without me?”

“Iwa and I are friends you know?”

“Yeah but you’re supposed to be my best friend,” he pouts.

“You already said that line to Iwaizumi yesterday when he opted to carry me instead of you.”

“Yeah, well … I met you before he did!”

“Because you threw a volleyball at my head!”

“It was an accident!”

Laugher spills from both of your lips at the memory. It isn’t until Oikawa’s hair brushes upon your shoulder during his laughter that you realize that the space between you and Oikawa had increasingly gotten smaller. He’s so close that your thighs are only centimeters apart.

As your laughter dies down, Oikawa’s bubbly personality begins to slip once more and the fatigue on his face becomes more evident. Eventually, he rests his head on your shoulder. You feel your stomach flutter pleasantly at his proximity. Even now, you can smell the cologne he regularly wears, the one you helped pick out back in first-year that he’s worn ever since.

Once the silence lasts for a few moments, you finally attempt to ask him about practice once more. “Are you finally going to tell me why you didn’t fight back when Iwa threw you out of practice?”

He sighs. “I guess you can say that I’m a little bit tired. Plus my knee hurts like all hell has reigned down.” His voice is so much different from just moments before that it’s hard to believe that they come from the same person.

“You’re exhausted,” you say. It’s not a question, but more of a definite statement.

“More or less,” he responds quietly.

This time, it’s you that sighs. “Just … be careful. I get that you want to beat everyone and go to Nationals, but you’re no good to your team if you fuck your knee up so badly that you can’t play.”

“This year is our last chance,” he mumbles. “I just don’t want to look back later and wish that maybe I’d practiced just a little more.”

“You can’t beat anyone if you’re sitting on the bench from an injury that you got from overworking yourself.”

Oikawa winces at the tone in your voice. You almost feel guilty. Almost.

“You’re going to work yourself to death. Iwaizumi and I aren’t just going to stand by and watch you dig your own grave,” you say softly. “For his sake, at least. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I’ll try,” he says. For some reason, you believe him.

The two of you sit there in silence once more, the wind blowing lightly on your hair and the sounds of a busy town echoing around you. You wish that you could bottle this moment up and keep it with you forever, even if it’s only a testament to how much Oikawa values you as a best friend and nothing more.

The thought makes your stomach drop in the slightest bit. It’s usually easy to contain your depth of feelings for Oikawa when the air around you two is lively and joking, but you’ve found over the years that quiet moments like these are the ones that really tear at your heart.

He’ll never know the extent of your feelings for him, and you’re too afraid to wonder what would happen if he did know.

Oikawa turns his head only slightly to look up at you while still continuing to lean on your shoulder. “You okay?”

You give an almost imperceptible nod. “We should head home. I don’t know what Iwaizumi might do to you if he finds you out here after practice ends,” you say.

Oikawa nods and detaches his head from your shoulder.

The two of you have only walked a couple of meters when you hear a group of girls squeal from not too far away. Oikawa tenses from beside you.

“Your fanclub found you,” you say.

“I’m aware.”

He doesn’t make any move to look back at them or stop. Instead, his pace seems to speed up.

You furrow a brow. “You don’t want to talk to them? Thought you loved their attention?”

“Ouch. You really know how to wound a man, Y/N-chan,” he says with a small smile on his lips. You take notice of the weariness in his features. “But while I do enjoy them feeding my very justified ego, I am far too fatigued to deal with them.”

You nod and continue to walk beside him. The less interactions he has with his fan club, the better your mood will be. Besides, you weren’t going to fail Iwaizumi by not doing the one thing he asked you to do and not take Oikawa home.

A giggle reaches your ears once more, and you sneak a glance behind you. The girls are talking amongst themselves, but still obviously walking in the direction you’re headed in.

“Well, what do you wanna do? Cause they’re coming.”

Oikawa sighs and you notice a tick of irritation in his clenched jaw. You can see a million thoughts going through his mind, but before you can ask him about them, he reaches out to grab your hand.

“Is this okay? I’m just hoping that they’ll leave me alone if they think that you and I … uhm.”

Oikawa’s hands are long and calloused, but they feel nice as his fingers intertwine with your smaller ones. You try hard not to let the little gesture get to you. “Yeah … yeah of course.”

The two of you fall into silence again, mostly due to his fatigue and your inability to form coherent words that don’t have to do with his hand in yours. You’ve held hands with Oikawa before, but it was never with the intent to make you two look like a couple. You wish more than anything that he would break the silence before you blurt out something that you don’t want to.

Your wishes are answered when Oikawa asks, “They’re still following us, aren’t they?” Oikawa still doesn’t look back as he says it.

In your short reverie you had forgotten about the girls behind you. You sneak another glance at them and find that Oikawa’s assumption is correct.

“Yeah, they are.”

Oikawa makes an incoherent noise. “Y/N-chan, could you be a dear and describe what they look like? I have a feeling I know who exactly they are.”

You turn back again, and really take a good look at them. They’re pretty. Really pretty, you think. You wonder for a second what they could’ve done to make Oikawa so adamant on not speaking with them.

“There’s three girls. One with cropped red hair, one with long blonde hair, and one with brown hair in a high ponytail.”

“Oh, it’s them again. I don’t know what to do to get them to leave me alone at this point,” he sighs.

“Who are they? What’s going on?”

His grip on your hand tightens. “Ichika-san and her friends. She sent me a love letter about a month ago. I tried to let her down easily, but it seems that she has yet to give up.”

“This girl is your stalker?”

“Not quite. At least, I hope not.”

The noise from behind you two gets increasingly louder. A giggle echoes on the mildly empty street and you catch Oikawa’s name being whispered between their conversations. Now that you’ve found out about what they’ve been putting him through, your annoyance spikes.

“Not to sound paranoid or anything, but I’m not keen on these girls finding out where you live.”

Oikawa is quiet for a moment, his brows furrowed in indecision. It seems that he makes up his mind when he turns his head to look at you. “Kiss me.”

Your step momentarily falters.

“What?”

He shakes your intertwined hands. “We’re already holding hands. They might get the memo if we …”

“Oh.”

“I .. I mean only if you want to. You don’t have to. I just figured that .. nevermind. It’s a spotty plan. They might still not leave us alone and --”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do it.” You weren’t going to pass up a chance at kissing him, even if it’s only for a diversion. This doesn’t seem like such a bad idea anyways — you’d long since given up on him reciprocating your feelings, and this way you can kiss him while saving yourself from the possible embarrassment of rejection.

“You will?”

“Where’s the harm? It’s just a kiss right?” You can barely hear yourself talking over the beating of your heart. “Besides, it could work.”

Oikawa shoots you a grateful smile. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready then.”

You try to shake out your nerves and instead focus your time in looking at your surroundings. The sound of giggling is still in close range when you spot a tree nearby. It’s still pretty out in the open, but not so much that you and Oikawa might draw stares, at least not from anyone that isn’t a part of the group of girls behind you.

Gathering enough courage to not insanely mess this up, you tug on Oikawa’s hand to drag him with you in the direction of the tree. You make sure that you’re still in the line of sight of the three girls when you snake your arms around Oikawa’s neck and pull him down.

His lips are softer than you imagined, and you’ve imagined kissing them more times than you’re willing to admit. Pleasantly, he tastes like oranges, which you don’t quite understand, considering that you can’t seem to remember him ever being fond of oranges. But then again, you can’t quite think of anything besides the feeling of his lips on yours.

Your lips move fluidly against his, soft but not entirely without passion. It takes everything in you to not kiss him with the force that you want to be kissing him with.

Hands come down to grip your waist as he pulls you closer to him, gently placing a hand on the small of your back. You run your hands through his hair and wonder to yourself why you hadn’t ever played with his hair before. If you ever make it out of this with your senses still intact, you’d make playing with his hair a part of your regular routine.

He makes a small noise against your lips when you make the mistake of pulling a little too hard on his hair. His grip on you tightens.

You don’t know how long you two stand there, lips locked with each other, but Oikawa doesn’t make any move to pull away. Instead he deepens the kiss by running his tongue against your bottom lip and pulling you even closer. You stifle a noise that threatens to come from deep in your throat. One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek and tips your head so that he can slip his tongue into your mouth. He has fantastic lips, you think.

It’s only until you feel the air in your lungs begin to dwindle that you force yourself to pull away. The kiss lasted for longer than you expected, and by the way you pant with every breath, it feels like a kiss that the rest of the world should not have been privy to.

You keep your eyes closed for a moment more, wanting to savor the moment for just a little longer. The moment you open your eyes, you’ll have to come back to the reality that this was just a one-time thing. You’ll have to come back to reality and remember that this kiss likely doesn’t mean anything to him.

Slowly you open your eyes, and find that Oikawa’s already staring at you intently. His breathing comes out staggered, and his eyes have turned a few shades darker. What used to be a soft chestnut brown looks almost close to black. In them, you notice a flicker of an odd emotion that looks too familiar, but you don’t want to hope for anything.

You slide your hands down to his chest. His hands are still planted on your back and face, touching you both gently and carefully. “Did it work?” Your voice comes out small.

He seems to wake up from his trance then, and turns to look in the direction that the girls were before. You look behind you to see one of the girls running away with her head in her hands. Her two friends follow after her in an attempt to console her.

“I think it did,” he says. And what he says after is so quiet you almost believe that you imagine hearing it. “In more ways than one.”

part two will most likely be up on thursday next week :)

#oikawa x reader #oikawa headcanons #oikawa x y/n #oikawa fluff #oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #reader insert #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader

1K notes · View notes

sungie · 4 years

Text

𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮: 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐤𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚/𝐧: literally nothing in this is canon but adkfl;djkfl; anyway thank you for reading!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: it’s a comfort piece with fluff but it does deal heavily with topics of family trauma/depression/sadness

- -

“Suga,” you try, hesitantly, reaching for the sleeve of his jacket, “do you have a moment?”

The grin on Suga’s face falters for a split second, and if you let yourself get swept into his bravado, you can almost pretend like you don’t see it. Like you don’t see the way he’s trying so hard to keep this wild glimmer in his eyes, and loud laughter spewing from his mouth, and for a moment, you think you’ve caught him mid-glitch.

His laughter lines pause, eyes widening slightly, then drooping, as if you’ve caught him doing something bad. But he recovers, admirably, so, and his face gentles. “Yeah, of course I do. One second.”

You let his sleeve drop from your hands, and you watch as Suga bounds toward the door, calling out to the volleyball team lingering by the exit. “I’ll catch you guys later, don’t wait up.”

He’s met with a chorus of disappointed awws, whines from Hinata, and promises from Daichi that they won’t save him any meat buns, but Suga laughs them off, making sure to leave them with an everlasting grin and smiling eyes.

“You’ve got to buy me a meat bun,” Suga teases, turning back to you. “Compensation for my time.”

You laugh, swatting at his chest. “You’re so full of it.” And then, because he sticks his tongue out at you, “fine. I guess I’d buy you some.”

“How many?

“A half.”

Suga looks at you dryly.

“Five.”

At this he smiles satisfactorily, clearly amused. “So what’d you need?”

It’s hard for the words to leave your mouth, and for a moment, the silence that stretches between the two of you is sticky and awkward, something that perhaps shouldn’t be said. An amber mold preserving an old arachnid, one encased in circumstance to be played out in time. And you’re shattering it.

“I know, Suga.” It’s out, and you sigh, squeezing your hands together behind your back. “I know what you’re doing.”

Suga’s grin is so large. “What do you mean? You’re not talking about those minutes I was late to practice, were you?” He laughs, scrunching up his face. “I promise I’ll do some extra laps, just for you. You can watch me the whole time.”

“Suga.”

And for once, his laugh is almost hostile. And he can’t stop. You can hear Oikawa in the back of your mind, murmuring Mr. Positive, Mr. Refreshing, over and over. Like a chant. A warning.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m laughing. Look, (Y/N), I’ve got stuff to do.” He says, sheepishly, rubbing a spot at the back of his neck. “Why don’t we put this conversation on hold and get food with the team? I’ll pay?” He grins. “Well, for mine … and maybe yours.”

You and Suga share a look, and he winces. You’re willing to bet he’s reliving the exact moment two weeks ago when he told you the same exact thing, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“I’m thinking no laps for two meat buns?” Suga tries, hoping for a smile from you.

“On hold, Koushi? Or never?”

“Fuck,” Suga mutters under his breath. “Come on, (Y/N), not now --”

“Hey,” you say, softly, “I’m not bringing this up because I want to hold it over you, or anything. I’m just worried. Really worried.”

Suga softens. He holds his lip between his teeth, then tilts his head slightly to the side, trying to read you. He must see no animosity there, no ulterior motives, because he slowly reaches out to brush his thumb against your cheek, hesitating as his eyes hold something you haven’t quite seen before so openly. “I know. And it means a lot that you do, really. But there’s nothing going on.” He gulps, smiling shyly, like an afterthought. “I’m fine.”

And just as he’s about to leave, already turned and hand reaching for the door knob, your words make him freeze.

“My parents don’t put me first, either.”

Suga freezes so rigidly that you nearly feel the air twinge with ice. “What?” Suga’s voice, it’s so tight. Almost as if you could break his vocal chords with a light exhale.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you whisper, looking at his back, “but I thought it would help. If you knew. I’ll let you go, now.”

“How’d you know?” Suga whispers.

A strangled sort of sound escapes your lips. “Huh?”

“How’d you know?” He repeats.

“There’s only one reason people act like you, Koushi.”

“What’s that?”

“Pain.”

“Ah,” Suga whispers, unable, or unwilling, to turn around. “I see.”

Carefully, you step forward, lightly wrapping your arms around his waist. You can feel how tense his back is, and you gently squeeze his torso, hoping that some gesture can help ease the walls he’s putting up day by day.

“I guess you were watching that time, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“And you read between the lines.”

You weigh the options between saying anything, and then decide to just go for it. “Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

You gently rest your head against his back. “Sorry.”

“It’s funny, you know,” Suga says, almost bitterly, but more resigned, “that you’re the only one who noticed.” He sighs, reaching out with one hand to lean against the doorframe. “They’ve lived with me my entire life, and they think I’m perfectly fine. Everyone does.”

“It’s fucked up.”

Suga breathes out, and you can picture his exhausted laugh, despite everything. “Yeah.”

“What is it for you?” You try, your hands gentle against him. His inhale feels shaky against your arms, and you mindlessly press your lips to the back of his jacket.

“My brother,” he relents. “there’s only really room for one of us to be loved. And my parents, well, they never understood emotions much. Maybe they just weren’t ready for parenting. Or something.” He sighs. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad it’s him. But I just …”

“Wanted to come first for once,” you murmur. “You wanted to be seen.”

Suga sags, letting out a tired breath. “Exactly.”

“How bad is it?”

Suga laughs quietly. “I’m okay, really --”

“Koushi.”

“It hurts,” Suga murmurs, gently taking one of your hands around his waist and guiding it to his chest. “Sometimes it hurts so bad, here. Like a hole. But sometimes, I don’t know, it just ...” he falters off, searching for words. “Feels numb? I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“Makes sense, Koushi. Maybe almost like there’s nothing there, too. Just … drifting.”

Suga’s chest heaves, like he’s suppressing an amused laugh. “Yeah. It’s like you know exactly what I’m …” He freezes. “Oh, shit.”

Slowly, very slowly, Suga turns in your grasp, reaching to gently cup your cheeks in his palms. “Why didn’t you stop me … I didn’t think about you.”

Your eyes widen. “No, don’t you dare.”

Suga stops, confused. “What?”

“You’re doing it again. Putting people first.”

Suga frowns, then brushes his thumb against your cheek, his touch lingering on your skin longer than it’s ever been. “So are you.”

You falter, words dying from your lips.

“Oh,” Suga whispers, allowing a teasing lilt to enter his voice, “are we going to kiss, now?”

You whack him in the chest, and he laughs, shaking his head. “Kidding, kidding. But I’m serious, (Y/N). You do the same exact things I do.”

“No,” you mutter, stubbornly. “I’m your co-manager, and it’s my role to help you all out when I think something’s wrong --”

“No,” Suga whispers, “you knew because that’s your life, too.”

“But it’s your turn,” you protest.

“I was told it’s nice to take turns,” Suga smiles at you, gently. “Were you not?”

You laugh, attempting to turn from his gaze. He’s looking at you so tenderly, and with so much care, too. It’s strange.

But Suga gently holds you in place. “I won’t force you to share things with me, (Y/N). I’ll come to you if I need help, but I want you to come to me, too.”

“You’re going to have to swear on that.”

Suga throws his head back and laughs, and this time it’s real. When he turns back to look at you, the rosy glow in his cheeks flushes his face and adds light to his eyes. “I can’t ever fool you, can I?”

“I’m your Achilles Heel.”

Suga smirks. “In more ways than one.”

“Are you still flirting, Koushi?” You try to stifle a grin. “You do know I’m --”

“Not ready for a relationship. Yeah … I know.” Suga looks at you fondly. “I know. Don’t worry.”

The smile fades from your lips. “Then why?”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“It won’t work.”

“Maybe. But are you saying that because you don’t want a relationship with me, or because you’re scared of letting people in?”

Your eyes widen, and you impulsively take a step back from Suga. “I, um, I just think we’re too similar.”

“Maybe. But we won’t know unless we try.” He gently leans down to press his lips to your temple. “So for now, I’ll wait for you. Until you’re ready, or until you grow tired of me. Either works.”

“Grow tired of you? I wouldn’t ever. I don’t know why you’d say that.”

“Just in case. I don’t want you to feel pressured. And,” he murmurs, his eyes taking on a far-off look, “I wouldn’t want you to feel guilty for needing to take space. You know.”

“I wouldn’t ghost you.”

Suga laughs. “Cute. I’m sure you say that to all the people in your DMs.”

“They’re just really good friends. That I sometimes don’t talk to for a while.”

“Yes.” Suga nods in faux understanding, “I’m sure that’s the case.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” you hiss.

Suga just gazes at you softly. “Thank you.”

“Huh? For what?”

“For today.” Suga lets the corner of his lips tug up. “For understanding. And for letting me vent.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks but shake your head, walking for the door. “Buy me meat buns at Ukai’s.”

“No,” Suga teases. “You said you’d buy me five.”

“I wasn’t serious!”

“Neither was I,” Suga teases, poking you in the ribs. “Come on, I’ve got you.” And as he reaches for your hand, he smiles at you. “I always do.”

#sugawara #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara koshi x reader #sugawara koshi imagines #sugawara koushi imagines #sugawara koushi x you #sugawara koshi x you #suga haikyuu #sugawara koushi #sugawara koshi #suga x reader #suga imagines

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

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falling feels like flying

Guess whose back into writing! This is a gift for @minky-for-short who has just been an invaluable friend while I’ve been having a bad mental health time lately and this is her AU- a betrothal AU!

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3!

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The papers are signed, the agreement has been made, the ball has been thrown. Prince Zagreus and Prince Thanatos are officially engaged after a long betrothal and now everyone in their kingdoms can breathe a sigh of relief.

Everyone but the princes themselves.

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There had been a pause. There had definitely been a pause.

Zagreus leaned back against the door he’d just closed and worried his lip as he thought, a very unprincely habit he’d had since he was a child and would never have done if he wasn’t alone. But he was alone, his chambers empty and silent apart from the humming, flickering candle beside the bed that some servant had helpfully lit for him and the whistling night air beyond the window. He couldn’t really still hear the dregs of the ball going on downstairs, his apartments were too far away, but the music and laughter and pouring wine still echoed in Zag’s head enough that it felt as though he could, lingering like the taste of alcohol on his tongue.

Though none of that concerned Zagreus. He was fixated on the pause, the slight, two second hesitation he’d definitely heard in Thanatos’ voice before he’d bid him goodnight, the way his golden eyes had flickered slightly and a different set of words had seemed to build on his tongue. It had only been for a moment but Zagreus was certain he wasn’t imagining things or thinking wishfully. Not this time.

Of course they’d left the ball together, it was only right, seeing as it was thrown to celebrate their official engagement, their step from betrothal into full, willing commitment of this marriage contract their parents had devised. They’d been sitting together all night, side by side, sharing their usual, comfortable conversation, even taking the first dance. More than once Zag had marvelled to himself at how far they’d come from gazing distrustfully at each other from opposite ends of a long table while Nyx and Hades dickered over dowries, from trying and failing to find a future in each other's faces. Now they laughed easily, now Zag teased Than for the stiff way he danced, made him chuckle and fire back with a dry comment about how his footwork wasn’t too stiff to knock him on his ass in the training yard. Now Zag rested easily against Than as they chatted amongst their friends when the ball wound down into a loose, easy knot of godlings happy to go long into the evening. Now everything felt so easy.

But as soon as they’d walked into the hall, heard the now slightly listing music and lilting laughter muffled, a kind of tension had settled between them. Like a held breath. Like Than was worrying something between his teeth, not one of his usual puzzles he did as a hobby or thought experiments to improve the running of his mother’s kingdom. He’d had a little too much wine and dancing to be really thinking about any of that, he’d been relaxed and smiling through the whole party, armour discarded and guard down. The way he only got sometimes but Zag looked forward to immensely.

It was a different kind of tension, a strange kind of waiting. Zag had let it lie, certain his new fiance would confide in him when he was ready, simply humming the last song Orpheus had been playing coherently before the wine really got to him, as they walked through the palace’s grand corridors up to the royal apartments. But it had never happened, his fellow prince had stayed closed mouthed and brooding up until the hallway split, Zag needing to go one way towards the crown prince’s suite and Than the other, to the rooms he and the rest of his entourage had been occupying for months.

Zag had turned. He’d waited. He’d fidgeted, hiking the shoulder of his robe up higher where it was starting to slip. He’d scuffed his heel into the thick red carpet.

And then Thanatos had simply inclined his head, wished him goodnight and turned away.

And that would have been it if not for that goddamn pause.

Zagreus sighed in frustration and began pulling away his finery, throwing aside the skull clasps and the gold bangles and cuffs, slipping off the silks, letting it all rattle into bowls and fall to the floor without thought. This was just like Thanatos, throwing goddamned spanners into the works when everything was going great. After they’d finally managed to become friends, grow closer, after he’d actually started to look forward to marrying him and maybe thinking it wouldn’t be so bad to see that face when he woke up every day, to maybe wondering about their wedding night...now he had to bloody pause.

Perhaps he’d had a little too much wine, though he only remembered a few cups. His heart was beating hard in his chest as if he’d just come from the practise yard, his face hot and his mouth dry. Zagreus knew what the sensible decision was, what his mother would gently counsel and his father would command. He knew he should slide between his silken sheets and go to sleep, forget all of this and make sure he didn’t look too hungover for their official engagement portraits in the morning. He should write it off as his own imagination, his brain making space for something it wanted to see.

Perhaps he’d wanted to see it for longer than he’d like to admit.

Zagreus dropped that thought like it was a metal sword that had been sitting in the sun too long. Frustration was easier. Annoyance even, a desire to take those surprisingly broad shoulders that could swing a scythe well enough to knock him on his ass in the training yard, glare into those eyes that had once seemed like cold, hard gold but had softened into honey over time, and demand to know what the fuck his problem was. Why in his father’s name, after everything they’d been through and how hard they’d worked to build something, whatever that something was, why he was pausing now.

Mouth now firmly set in the stubborn scowl he was practically famous for, Zag abandoned his passing acquaintance with good sense and crossed his chambers to yank on a red silk robe. He deserved an explanation and he was bloody well going to get one.

He had plans to storm out of the door with all the princely righteousness he could muster, march down the hallway and hammer on his betrothed’s door to wring some answers out of that statue of a man he would be calling husband in half a year.

Plans that fell apart completely when he threw back his chamber door to see Thanatos standing there, hand raised midway to knock, eyes wide and alarmed. Zag froze, all his frustration evaporating to be replaced by simple bewilderment. Than was still in his ball attire, all flowing black robes and gold jewellery, though rather more rumpled and flustered than he usually was. He had the look he got in his eyes when they’d be sparring together and Zag would surprise him with some move you only got to know from training with the great Achilles, in the split second before he went sprawling back in the dust.

But this time Zag was equally caught off guard.

“Good evening Zagreus,” Than eventually cleared his throat, his courtly politeness a little thin.

“Morning,” Zag corrected, rankling at the formality, Thanatos hadn’t talked to him like that in months, “It’s past midnight.”

A light blush dusted Than’s cheekbones, “Of course. A ridiculous time to come calling, I know but...I wanted to speak with you, if you didn’t mind. Or...were you going somewhere?”

Zag bit his lip then quickly stopped himself, stepping aside, “Nothing important. You can come in.”

Thanatos inclined his head and moved into the dark chambers and its flickering shadows, the candlelight catching on his finery. He moved with uncertainty, like he didn’t know where to put himself or how to exist inside of the one place in the castle that belonged to Zagreus alone. It made Zag’s stomach knot, hadn’t they spent hours here talking together? Hadn’t Thanatos fallen asleep on his bed just last week as they’d sat and read in companionable silence?

Why did Thanatos feel like a stranger to him all over again?

“You can sit,” he grunted, just to stop his betrothed’s awkward rocking on his heels.

Than seemed abashed at least, sinking down onto the expansive bed, making the ropes creak. He left room but Zag made no move to follow, standing and leaning against the black stone wall instead, folding his arms.

“Zagreus…”

Zag. You call me Zag. “What is it, Thanatos? Just say whatever it is you’re here to say.”

The perfectly carved face turned crestfallen, “I’ve upset you.” It wasn’t a question.

Zag just shrugged, wishing he could summon back his anger but it would be impossible. Not with Than sitting right here, looking at him like that.

“I need to apologise, Zagreus,” he sighed, pushing a hand through his white hair, ruining it’s usual perfect sweep, “I...I’ve never been good at talking about sensitive topics.”

“You’re the personification of death?” Zag couldn’t help the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

Than seemed relieved at the smile, relaxing a little, “Well, not that particular sensitive topic. But all the rest leave me feeling quite helpless and...and if I’ve seemed distant or closed off to you tonight, I’m very sorry.”

“Look, just tell me what sensitive topic you want to talk about,” Zag tilted his head, “Help me understand it. I mean, we’re officially about to be married now, we should probably start getting more comfortable with each other.”

Something in Than’s eyes flickered, “Well...that’s just it, Zag.”

Real fear settled with a heavy thunk in his stomach. Please don’t break the betrothal, please don’t go. Only later would he wonder why that had been his first thought and not ‘please don’t break the betrothal, my father will kill me’.

Than saw his expression and scrambled, panicked, “Not that I regret it. Not one bit, Zagreus, I promise. Oh gods, I’m making such a mess of this…”

Zag sighed and found himself twisting the ring Than had given him around on his finger, “Than, look it’s okay…”

“It’s not,” his betrothed shook his head, lips tight, “It’s not, I’m sorry. It’s just it made everything seem so real and it made me...it made me realise how big this all is.”

Now he was just surprised. The idea that anything, even marriage, could scare the unflappable Prince Thanatos really was a revelation. Feeling something of a fool, Zag quickly moved to sit beside him, taking one of the hands that was clutching miserably at his hair, holding it in his own.

“It is alright, Than,” he kept his voice steady, even if reversing their positions like this was disconcerting. Usually he was the one raving or panicking and Than would be calmly talking sense into him, “I understand exactly how you feel.”

Than have a long, ragged exhale, clutching his friend’s fingers tightly, “It was just them all looking at us tonight and it just made me realise that...that this is it. This is my home now and you’re my husband and...and it's all real. It's not just words on some agreement from years ago anymore and as happy as I am to spend the rest of my life with you, it's just...it's not how I would have wanted to do it.”

“Me neither,” Zag admitted, smiling a little sadly, “It feels all out of order, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” the relief on Than’s face was plain, “And I mean, gods Zagreus, I’ve not even kissed you, we won’t be having sex until we’re already bound for life…”

He snapped his jaw shut, hard enough that it must have hurt his perfect teeth. A dark blush stained his skin like spilled wine and he looked as though he was fighting every urge to vanish himself to the next room over. Possibly the next country over.

Zag managed to keep it to a mild smile, though his heart was hammering, “You’ve...thought about that?”

“I...I don’t want to give the impression it’s been my only concern…” Than’s voice became very clipped and polished in his embarrassment, “But...it’s crossed my mind, yes.”

“Well then…” Zag shrugged, voice casual and easy, “If you were amenable to it, why don’t we get that out of the way?”

There was a long pause as what he’d said sank in for Thanatos. If he wasn’t waiting with so much tension roiling in his stomach, Zag would have found it comical, how his eyes widened and his jaw went slack in slow motion.

“It’s...it’s not exactly proper…” he said slowly, though there was clear interest in his expression, in the way he was leaning closer to Zag.

“No,” Zag admitted, “And if you’d rather wait, I’d respect that entirely. Gods, if you don’t even want to do it on our wedding night, I’d respect that too. Betrothed or married, Thanatos, I will never make any demands of you in that regard.”

“I never believed you would,” Than murmured gently but he did look reassured.

Zag smiled, “But if you were open to it, maybe this could be a way to make this very big thing a little smaller? Give ourselves one less thing to worry about when that day comes? And you’d certainly know the man you’re marrying a little better.”

Than laughed, the sound not as nervous as it might have been, “True...I rather think this could work, Zag. No pressure, no expectations, no matter if it was good or bad because...well, because we’d have time to try again?”

“As much time as you wanted,” Zag nodded, his smile growing, “On our own terms.”

“Our own terms,” Than repeated, looking like those words were the last anathema his anxiety needed.

Zag couldn’t blame him, the last few months had been a flurry of decisions about their lives, all ones other people had made. It was good to seize one for their own.

“And you’d hardly be dishonouring me,” Zag chuckled lightly, “I’m to be your husband, after all. I have no intentions of being anyone else’s.”

“Neither do I,” Than gave a soft laugh, “Though you may change your mind when you see how, ah...inexperienced I am at this.”

“Oh come off it,” Zag elbowed him lightly, “Everyone is at the start, you know it doesn’t bother me, just like how I am pretty experienced doesn’t bother you.”

Than nodded his confirmation, though his eyes wandered back into nervousness after, “So...um, where do we start?”

“You want to go now?” Zag couldn’t help a bemused little laugh though his body answered with it’s own eagerness.

“I do,” Than nodded, now barely an inch from Zag’s face, when had he moved so close? And when had Zag moved to match it?

“Then, if I may have this dance, my prince?” he grinned rakishly, throwing the last of his reservations out of the window.

They had kissed before, chaste pecks on the cheek at balls and for the cheers of the crowd then the light, playful kisses to the forehead Zag gave all his close friends. But immediately, as their lips met, they knew this was different. This was shifting ground underneath their feet, a definition that wouldn’t form until they asked it to. And Zag let Thanatos ask first.

He did, after a moment, tilting his head so their mouths fit together better, opening his lips slightly, inviting Zag to lick into his mouth. When he obliged, the stoic, self assured emissary of death actually whimpered, a shudder running through his body as he pressed closer. Suddenly he was kissing him with such abandon that Zag was forced to break it, just so Thanatos would realise how much he needed air.

It was impossible to not laugh at the flush on his cheeks or the shine in his eyes, like a man who’d been starving tasting his first bite of food. Judging him ready and willing, Zag let his robe fall from his shoulders, untying it at the waist and letting it drop away entirely. He let Than’s eyes travel over all of him, let him have far more than any glances as they’d changed after sparring.

“Oh…” was all Than could seem to say but the look in his eyes filled in the gaps, “Zagreus…”

Zag grinned, reaching out and teasingly flicking one of Than’s dangling earrings, “Now you?”

His betrothed undressed a little more awkwardly, more clasps and buttons and layers to be dealt with, to be tossed over the side of the bed to tangle with Zag’s. But gods was it worth it, every last inch of smooth, dark skin, every angle of his lean, wiry muscles, the dusting of pale hair leading down to the silky thicket around a cock that was everything Zag had imagined it might be.

“So?” Than asked, voice edged with nerves again, eyes more vulnerable than Zag had ever seen them.

Zag spoke plainly so Than’s own mind couldn’t help but believe it, leaning forward and putting his hand gently against one cheek, “You are an incredibly beautiful man, Thanatos. I did really get very lucky.”

From the bright eyed way he smiled, his words had struck home.

This time, as they kissed, Zag rolled them gently, guiding Than onto his back with his legs apart. Already his cock was responding with endearing enthusiasm, Zag’s fingers helped it the last few steps of the way, only needing a few light strokes until he was hard. From the way Than moaned and arched under those gentle brushes of his fingers, Zag was already deliriously excited to show him what more he could do.

“Listen,” he murmured, tapping his aquiline nose lightly, “Just lie back and let me take care of you. The second something you don't like happens, just say the word and it stops.”

“Yes Zag,” Thanatos breathed, eyes fixed on him with a kind of trust he was rarely gifted.

To see it shining there in those golden eyes, dancing with the firelight in them, Zag almost faltered. Almost. Barely a pause.

He bracketed Thanatos’ hips with his knees, guiding his cock into him slowly. Than’s head tipped back with each inch, his jaw slackening and breath coming in short gasps.

“Zag...fuck, Zagreus…”

“You sound so cute when you swear,” Zag laughed breathlessly, bracing himself for the last few inches, shuddering as his hips pressed against Than’s narrower ones.

Seemingly with a mind of their own, Than’s hands skated over every part of Zagreus they could reach, determined to explore. His thumbs traced the thin scars under his nipples, his fingers traced the hollows of his collarbone, he grabbed generous handfuls of his ass as he started to rock slowly. Zag would never have thought his betrothed would be so tactile, his distant, reserved Thanatos would be so eager with his hands.

It seemed Than wasn’t the only one learning things tonight.

He focused on the task at hand, working his hips, leaning back to take as much of his betrothed as he could. Gods but it had been a long time and perhaps even longer since it had felt this good with anyone. Something instinctive seemed to be working between them, something that reminded him of when they fought side by side, how Thanatos would always know exactly how to match him and fill the gaps he left, how they felt unstoppable.

Something that made Zagreus think this was going to work.

“Zag,” Than’s voice, strained and thin, snapped him back to the here and now, “Zag, I’m gonna…”

“Good,” he leaned down to press their foreheads together, brushing Than’s lips lightly with his own, “That’s alright, just let go. I’m there with you.”

Permission granted to him, Thanatos gave a strangled cry, hips lifting up enough that Zag found himself having to hold on. There was the snap of released tension, a sensation of heat flooding into him, sharp contrast to the rest of the cool skin pressed against him. It was enough to send Zag tumbling over the edge with him with a sigh of release.

In the moments after it broke, after the rushing waters had settled and all that was left was the ragged, panting breaths, Zagreus waited. He waited to see the realisation dawn on Thanatos’ face, to see the shame flood in to replace the hollow left behind, to watch him decide they had made a terrible mistake. He hadn’t realised that fear had still been lurking in a quiet corner of his mind or perhaps he simply hadn’t cared, it had stood in the shadow of his own desire and the need to help Thanatos.

Zagreus waited for the pause.

But all that happened was a smile. A smile that spread over Thanatos’ face like a sunrise, tired and shy and satisfied.

“Oh yes. I could do that for the rest of my life.”

Zag burst out laughing, the sound raw from his strained voice, he’d been louder than he’d realised.

“Glad to hear it, Than,” he chuckled, gently extracting Than from himself so he could roll onto his back, “I...I’m glad we did this. This was a good idea.”

“It was,” Thanatos hummed, closing his eyes and tipping his head back in satisfaction, “Now this is always going to be ours, whatever else happens.”

“Ours…” Zag repeated, finding his mismatched eyes lingering on Than’s face, watching the shadows find all its angles and hollows. He rather liked the sound of that.

He wouldn’t ask Thanatos to return to his own room. If anyone saw him leave in the morning, they’d just say the princes had drunk too much wine and collapsed into bed still fully clothed. The fact that Than would be creeping along the corridor still in his finery would help the illusion, after all. They could have this night together, the night that was only theirs.

And all the nights after that, well, they’d find excuses for those too.

Zag smiled as he pulled Than close, let him rest against him as he drifted into the kind of peaceful sleep you could only have after a great weight of worry had been lifted from you. The kind of sleep where you felt completely safe.

There had most definitely been a pause. And Zagreus was so glad of it.

#hades #thanzag #betrothal au #smut #hades fic #zagreus #trans zag #thanatos #please reblog and comment!

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twisted-tales-of-all · 4 years

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Stuck in the Game

Mafia!Dad!Yunhyeong x Mom!Reader ft. Mafia!ATEEZ, Mafia!iKON, Mafia!BTS

Summary: When your daughter, Soojin, finally finds someone she likes, her father freaks out because, despite his best efforts to keep her out of that life, the boy in question is also a mafia member. A rival group finds the couple and uses the relationship as blackmail.

Anon Request: a long and specific request that started with dad!Wonwoo but was changed to Yunhyeong and we edited the specifics together so idk what to put here anymore lol

Word Count: 3.3-3.4K

Contains: mafia!AU, violence, guns, kidnapping, blackmail, reunion of old friends-turned-rivals, forced cooperation, fluff, angst

A/N: This took forever for me to get the energy to type out and format, I’m sorry, but I’m proud that I implemented all the aspects I wanted to in this.

If 17-year-old you could see yourself now, you don't know whether the reaction would be amazement or fear. At age 23, you were a performer and bartender for a high-end bar famous for its mafia visitors. You'd often listen to their meetings whenever they requested "beautiful company," and that made you a very valuable person in the business, even without you trying to be.

When the day you feared finally came, your kidnappers wanted all the information you had from other mafia groups. They were very kind to you, treating you like a valuable treasure. They called themselves iKON, and the moniker was written in numerous places in the house. Their leader, B.I., insisted you be treated like royalty, but one of the boys enjoyed the chaos of going against the leader's requests. He was a charmer, and you fell for him quickly. Gradually, the romantic encounters turned into sexual encounters, and you found out that you were pregnant with his child shortly after.

Until the day you told him of the pregnancy, you only knew him by his mafia name, Song. When you revealed your secret, however, he happily disclosed that "Yunhyeong will be a good father. Don't worry." It was his way of disconnecting his mafia status from his child. You figured this out as he moved you out of the mafia base with B.I.'s approval and bought a good home for you both to stay.

You remember the day you gave birth as if it was yesterday. You remember the joy that swept away all the pain as you held your newborn daughter. You remember all the boys visiting you at different times, and you'll never forget how proud Yunhyeong looked as he introduced his squad to his daughter.

Soojin. You remember her baby face without issue, even though it was 17 years ago. Your daughter grew up so fast - as you're told they all do.

Soojin and her father get along so well. Both of them are trouble makers, so you always see them planning chaos or laughing about something together. You and your daughter talk about deeper subjects more often than not, so seeing her being carefree and enjoying life with Yunhyeong brings so much joy to your heart.

Today, however, you catch them fighting. You don't hear the topic, only Soojin storming out after her final jab at her father, "You don't understand me at all!"

Seeing the pain on Yunhyeong's face hurts, but you decide to check in with your daughter instead, knowing that Yunhyeong can handle himself. Following Soojin, you find her on the front porch, sitting with her arms wrapped around her legs and her head buried in her knees. You sit down next to her, the wooden patio revealing your presence with a creak. You don't say anything before she immediately begins ranting about her father.

"Why doesn't he understand? Why can't he just be happy that I found someone that makes me happy?"

This is the first time your daughter has ever mentioned anything along the lines of having a crush, so you know it must be important to her, "Soojin, you've found someone?" You try approaching the situation softly, opting to learn about her partner before thinking about why her father would be upset.

"Mom, he's amazing. He's really sweet and caring. He takes me to nice parks, and we message every single day. He's pretty tall and really cute, too."

"So, what's this boy's name?"

"Hyunwoo. Jeong Hyunwoo. He's a year older than I am, and he's technically in the mafia - he was born into it just like me - but he treats me so well."

Suddenly, you understand why Yunhyeong freaked out over Soojin's boyfriend, but you don't bring it up just yet, "Jeong Hyunwoo. He sounds nice. Have you met his family?"

"Yup! We hang out with his dad a lot. He's super cool. Makes lots of jokes. His mom died when he was younger, and he's an only child, so it's just the two of them. For some reason, though, dad freaked out on me when I told him. Something about dangerous relationships and hoping I'd never have to deal with this stuff. I have no idea what he's talking about. Ugh, it's not fair. Why can't he be cool about it like Hyunwoo's dad?"

"Honey, your father just wants to protect you. He'll come around. He just knows someone he has bad blood with that has the same last name. They used to be friends but the friend was recruited into a mafia group, which meant he never even said his goodbyes to your father."

"But dad's in the mafia, so what's the big deal?"

With a sigh, you reveal some of your husband's past, "Your dad didn't choose to join. He had to join or they would've killed him for the damages he caused as a teenager. He despises the lifestyle, but there's no way to leave once you become part of it. Your father accepted the life he was forced into and did his best with what was given to him. His friend, Yunho, on the other hand, was invited and willingly chose to join. He does want you to be happy, but he's worried about your life if you date a mafia member."

"Well, what about you? Why'd he date you if that was the case? He was okay involving you?"

You laugh and shake your head. You think back on the unconventional relationship you and your now-husband had before the marriage, but decide not to explain that quite yet, "That's a very long and complicated story for another day. Just know that your situation is extremely different from mine. If you truly love Hyunwoo, don't let your father's attitude affect the relationship. When he sees you truly happy, he'll support you. Believe me."

You could tell that Soojin wasn't quite convinced, but she was always head-strong, so you also know that she will continue her relationship. So, you weren't surprised when she came to you a few days after and announced that she had a date with Hyunwoo. Watching her walk out in her cute date outfit, you can't help but feel proud of her for following her heart.

During the date, you finally confront Yunhyeong, "She'll be okay, y'know? She's the daughter of two very strong people, and we've raised her well."

"I tried so hard to keep her out of the mafia life. And a Jeong of all people could ruin all of that."

You place a hand on his back, "Yunhyeong, you can't use your past against her future. Aren't you happy Soojin finally found her first love?"

"Well, yeah, but..." He sighs, deciding not to finish his complaint.

"She'll be fine."

---

Soojin meets with Hyunwoo at the coffee shop down the street. When he sees her, the smile shows on his whole face.

"You look so beautiful." He places a kiss on her head and takes the seat across from her.

"Thanks, Hyunwoo. My mom helped choose my outfit and styled my hair for me."

Unknown to the couple basking in their puppy love, a low-ranking member of another mafia group sits at the next table and recognizes Hyunwoo's name. To confirm that he's the right person, the member listens in on their conversation.

"How's training? Is your dad being hard on you?"

"Naw, it's pretty smooth. What about you, though? How'd your parents react when you told them?"

"My mom is understanding. She fell for a member, too, after all, so she can relate. My dad, on the other hand... Ugh, he's so difficult!"

At this point, the stranger decides to alert his higher-ups of this potential Achilles' heel for the ATEEZ mafia team.

"He doesn't approve?"

"He hates that I'm becoming part of a lifestyle he tried so hard to keep me out of. My mom said it has to do with your name, too. Apparently, my dad's childhood friend ended up willingly joining the mafia without saying goodbye, and his last name was Jeong."

No longer paying attention, the stranger has been communicating with other members about following the couple around for a kidnapping so they can blackmail their rival mafia group. When the couple leaves the cafe, he follows them to a nearby park, his last-second assignment to find her house underway.

At the end of the date, Hyunwoo walks Soojin back home, finding you sitting out on the porch, reading under the warm light.

"Hey. mom! I'm back!"

As you look up from the book, you find your daughter waving at you with one hand as her other arm links with a nervous-looking boy. You stand up to greet them, and you notice Hyunwoo relax a bit when he realizes how nice you are. You have a short chat before Hyunwoo claims he should get home before his father worries.

"Thank you for walking Soojin home. Get home safely."

You and your daughter watch as he leaves, then she enthusiastically recounts the events of the date. Seeing her this happy makes you smile, as she hasn't smiled this brightly since she was a young child. When the two of you head inside, she falls asleep the moment she lays down. You meet with your husband in your shared bedroom.

"How is he?"

"He seems sweet. He was clearly nervous when he saw me, and he genuinely seems to love her and wants to keep her safe."

"That's good." His robotic response ends the conversation, so you both get into bed.

A few weeks pass before Soojin and Hyunwoo have time for another date. You offer to drive her to the arcade, but she insists on walking to enjoy the nice weather. You kiss her forehead as you tell her to be safe, then watch her until she leaves your view.

Maybe an hour later, an exhausted Hyunwoo comes banging on your front door.

Between moments to catch his breath, he pleads, "Please... tell me Soojin is here... She never came..."

Even though you answered the door, Yunhyeong hears and freaks out. "I told you, Y/N! It's too dangerous for her! She might've been kidnapped!"

You quickly bring Hyunwoo inside, looking up and down the street before closing and locking the door. Once both boys have calmed down a bit, you try calling your daughter, but you're immediately sent to the voicemail. Moments later, Hyunwoo gets a call from his father, who sounds very confused but speaks urgently without revealing details. When Hyunwoo tells him where he is, his father hangs up. Ten minutes later, Yunho pulls up with his leader in the passenger seat. You let them in quickly, only for chaos to ensue the moment Yunhyeong sees Yunho.

He abruptly stands, the chair falling behind him, "Get out of my house."

"Babe, we both want the same things right now. Put the rivalry aside." You try.

"It's him, Y/N. This is the bastard who left without so much as a goodbye."

Time feels frozen as everyone's eyes go wide. Yunho sighs, breaking the silence.

"Hello, Song. It's been a while. You may hate me for the past, but your daughter has been kidnapped. She's being held as blackmail against my group. So, unless you want her to die there, I suggest you put that hatred aside so we can save her."

"Dad?"

"I don't know what you've learned, Hyunwoo, but Song and I were best friends until I chose to join the group, which forced us to cut ties. Their group is a rival; there wasn't much choice in the matter." Yunho says it as if it was rehearsed for years, his eyes still transfixed on Yunhyeong's.

The ATEEZ leader clears his throat before moving forward with the information he has, "I'm HJ, and I received a link to this video earlier." He hits play on his tablet and talks over the soundless visual of your daughter tied down to a chair, "This was accompanied by a message demanding that we give up some of our fronts to them or she dies. I don't think they realize she's your daughter, or else they'd be blackmailing your group as well."

The four boys discuss further action while you listen, quietly analyzing the options. Hours pass without much progress being made. When you finally try to chime in about going to get her yourself, using the same tactics you used as a dancer, there's another knock on the door. The room instantly falls silent as Yunhyeong slinks toward the door, a hand on his gun. As he looks through the peephole, his body relaxes. Keeping his hand on the gun in case of ambush, he opens the door for B.I., who gives him a pitiful look before stepping inside.

"This doesn't look good, Song." The leader states as he pulls out an envelope addressed to iKON.

Opening it, Yunhyeong finds a lock of hair and a handwritten note:

iKON, we have one of your members. This member is a daughter of one of your high ranks. We suggest you follow the instructions on the back of this message if you want to see her ever again.

On the back, the instructions simply list a date, time, and place to meet, followed by their demands of a certain area under iKON's control. From the handwritten element, Yunhyeong quickly narrows down the suspects to two cocky newer groups: Bangtan or The Strays.

"Why is ATEEZ here?" B.I. asks when he reaches the others.

"Soojin is my girlfriend."

"And Hyunwoo is my son. It was easy blackmail for them."

HJ stands and holds out a hand to B.I., "Looks like we have to work together this time."

He reluctantly shakes his hand, gripping tightly, "Only this once. I don't want to lose that zone, but I can't risk Song going insane over his daughter's death either."

The debating and planning continue with more force, as the deadline doesn't give much time. Now that they can narrow down the subjects, they can plan in more depth. The two groups in question are much cockier, so they'll expect the ultimatum to be enough for cooperation. However, they're both smart enough to plan defenses in case of an ambush, and they have the numbers on their side. You're quick to point out that Bangtan's numbers don't show for power, as the top seven do everything themselves rather than relying on others, protective of everything they started together. Hyunwoo adds that The Strays don't have the same numbers as Bangtan, but that power is much more balanced, with each of the top members taking assistants by their side.

"We have to assume this is Bangtan. I don't think The Strays would be this aggressive. They'd take their sweet time with their attack. They'd probably kidnap Soojin and Hyunwoo together so that they have a larger upperhand." B.I. declares, repeating for clarity, "Bangtan do things on impulse like this. The Strays think too much."

Agreeing, you all begin fully planning the attack. Ultimately, Hyunwoo and Yunhyeong will attend the meeting, since they're the clear emotional targets in this scheme. You will infiltrate enemy lines if at all possible, with the support of the ATEEZ elite hacker, Yeosang. B.I. and HJ will join each group's top sniper, aiming at whoever joins the meeting on the opposite side, as well as keeping eye on anyone who comes into contact with you. Everyone wants this done as quickly and quietly as possible.

After two agonizingly-long days, the plans are put into action. Yeosang finds you an entrance around the side of the building, disabling its alarm long enough for you to get inside. You quickly find yourself in a group of other girls who are being given simple equipment. As you approach, the person hanging out guns asks for your member number. Without fail, iKON's intel expert spits out a number that you repeat with confidence.

"Name?"

"Kim Eunsoo." You relay the information you're given and receive a small handgun.

You follow the others, blindly acting like the rest of the pack. You don't have sight on the meeting, but you find yourself face-to-face with one of Bangtan's top members. He gives you a once-over before giving you the 'follow me' gesture with his fingers. Although you're scared, remembering rumors of him being the harshest of the members despite his sweet-sounding name.

When Suga finally leads you far enough from the others, he throws a hand around your throat and leans in close, "Do you think we're that dumb?"

He pulls your earpiece from your ear and breaks it under his foot before moving his hand to your hair, dragging you to the meeting. He cuffs your wrists behind your back before pushing you to the floor next to your daughter.

"Well, well, well. You actually did try some tricks. Good for you. Now, we have both of your girls, Song. You better give us what we want." RM, Bangtan's leader claims, a smirk plastered on his face the whole time.

He clearly sounds victorious, so you refuse to look up, hiding your proud smile since they're falling so easily into the trap everyone set. There were no disguises; you meant to get caught. As he continues his victory monologue, you fidget with the handcuffs, slipping out easily without letting them see. You press a button planted in the fake wedding ring you're wearing, alerting everyone that you've freed yourself and can continue the plan.

See, they neglected to take the loaded gun back, believing you wouldn't be able to use it anyway due to the constraints.

"RM, tell me. You think we're idiots for trying to beat you this time, right?" Hyunwoo mocks, cutting off the mafia boss mid-sentence, "You think we'd send Y/N in without a disguise and expect to get a win like that. Isn't that right, buddy?"

Right on queue, you point your gun at RM, and the snipers turn the scope lights on, revealing that the other members have targets on their chests. The leader chuckles and raises his hands.

"Oh no! They have us surrounded! Can you believe this, Jin?" Sarcasm flowing from every word, you realize he's planned for far more than you expected.

Understanding RM's plans at the same time, Hyunwoo lunges toward his girlfriend, shielding her body with his. Shots sound. Groans echo through the building as bullets pierce skin, followed quickly by shuffling feet to get the wounded out of harm's way.

When the dust settles, Yunho and B.I. quickly work to treat the wounded. As B.I. removes a bullet from your right shoulder, you tell him that you hit RM clean in the leg.

"It seemed like slow motion. I watched the bullet break his skin right before the pain hit my back."

"If you're such a good shot, we should train you properly. Dunno if your husband would approve, though."

Everyone made it back safely, so you're all exceptionally happy about how smooth it went. Only you and Hyunwoo actually got hit, and, luckily, neither shot hit anything vital. You also know Bangtan didn't suffer many injuries either, which gives you peace of mind.

Once B.I. finishes dressing the wound, you meet with Yunhyeong, who won't stop thanking Hyunwoo for jumping on top of Soojin and taking the bullet. You drag him away and have him meet with Yunho, who sits on the roof with a celebratory bottle of beer.

"Hey... Thanks for helping save our daughter." Yunhyeong nervously starts, sitting in between the two of you.

"Now, Yunho, so you want to tell Yunhyeong what you told me?"

Silence falls over the group momentarily.

"Nah, I think this speaks enough." Stubbornly, he takes another swig of his drink before laying back, "I'll help my friends, even if the companies we work for are rivals."

As silence creeps in again, you decide not to push for it anymore tonight. You already have a nice victory to sit on, so you feel no need to try for another. You lay down and let your mind drift as you stare up at the stars, knowing full well that Yunhyeong will accept Hyunwoo as family, meaning Yunho will slowly become part of the family as well.

#kpop boys #kpop scenarios #kpop boy scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop writing #kpop fanfiction #ikon scenarios #ikon imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #mafia ateez #mafia ikon #mafia bts #song yunhyeong #ikon song #ikon yunhyeong #mafia yunhyeong #mafia kpop

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serenasoutherlyns · 3 years

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Winding Me Up Ch. 3 - Frustrated

I've been reading lots of smut, so I wrote some honest to goodness smut. Forgive me if this is incoherent and/or completely unsexy. Also, these two are both switches and you can't change my mind. Idiots, pining for one another but saying nothing about it.

New chapter of Full of Surprises up soon, but probably after I finish the long fic I'm working on right now. It has Calex and an OFC/reader character!! Good times.

It's late here and I need to sleep. Sleep well with Calex scenarios in your head.

warning: light choking, d/s dynamics.

Casey Novak is infuriating.

Alex decided this a few weeks ago, specifically Friday, when Casey had worn a dress to work. A completely work-appropriate, knee-length black shirt dress with a pleated skirt and structured top, but a dress nonetheless. Alex saw her when she came in (almost always a couple minutes late) carrying two mugs of coffee, the skirt swished and the collar shifted as she shared a joke with one of their coworkers.

Alex had been utterly sidetracked at that moment, and got more flustered when Casey came into her office, smiled at her, and handed her the coffee. Alex was sure they must’ve shared some words, but her brain was not in that place, right then.

Instead, she’d been thinking about the black sheer patterned tights Casey had on underneath said enraging dress, certain that she’d seen them before in a different setting. She was thinking about the dress’s conservative but unbuttoned neckline, how she wanted to grab that collar and pull--

But, of course, it had been 9AM on Friday, and they were at work. Infuriating.

---

Casey cannot stand Alex.

This time, it’s a raise of her eyebrows, a twist of her lip, a bite of her pen. She knows she shouldn’t let herself watch Alex work, that it’s a recipe for, ahem, impropriety. Right now, though, she neither wishes to nor can resist the temptation. It’s late, and Casey is getting ready to go home and cook for once, but Alex fucking Cabot (the middle addition is apt) seems hell-bent on making her lose her mind. Casey can’t help herself, she raps on Alex’s door two times before walking in.

“Alex.”

“Casey?”

She doesn’t put her pen down or look up from her work.

“You.”

“Me?”

“You’re driving me insane.”

“That seems like your problem to deal with, Casey.”

“Or you could fucking stop.”

“You haven’t told me what I’m doing wrong.” Alex punctuates her sentence with a small smile, putting her pen down and looking up at the redhead, still standing in her doorway. Casey scoffs, rolls her eyes. Alex, for her part, does not have a clue what could be upsetting Casey. It has been a couple weeks since they’ve been able to get together, she guesses, maybe Casey feels ignored. Their lack of contact was initiated by Casey, so Alex doesn’t see why it would upset her so badly.

“Yeah. Ok Cabot, see you tomorrow,” Casey says, rolling her eyes and sighing as she turns around and leaves the office. Why she doesn’t see if Alex wants to see her, she isn’t quite sure in the moment. Maybe because she feels stubborn, wants Alex to make a move. Casey noticed a few weeks ago that Alex never sent the first text, that it was always Casey seeing if she wanted to get a drink, or, when she wasn’t in the mood for conversation, a simple “Come over?” would do the trick.

Casey stopped sending the first texts, and Alex never sent one. No wonder she feels angry. If only she wasn’t so intoxicatingly hot.

---

“You feel so good,”

Alex remembers Casey whispering in her ear the last time they saw one another at night, when she had her two of her gentle fingers buried deep in Alex. It would’ve made her collapse if Casey didn’t have her bent over a countertop, the cold stone against her cheek, stomach. They’d been in too much of a rush to bother undressing, or even making it to the bedroom. It had been one of those encounters where even the formality of a drink was too much in the way of what either of them wanted (though, if Alex is honest with herself, Casey can have her whatever way she wants whenever she wants, her achilles heel, Alex’s ordinary strength in interpersonal matters melts away when she gets her texts)

“Do you like it when I talk to you like that?” Casey asked. Alex whimpered in response. “Do you?” Casey had asked again. “I didn’t catch that.” She pulled her fingers almost all the way out, then thrust into her again with three this time. Alex gasped at the feeling, arching into Casey’s touch. “I said, do you like this, Alex? Do you like my fingers like this?” Alex let out another high-pitched whimper, and Casey pulled out completely. When Alex sunk limply against the counter, and onto her knees, her body aching with the need to be filled, Casey simply said, “Sorry Princess,” oh god, the nickname, “but you really should answer when someone asks a question. Manners are important.”

“Please, Casey.”

“Please what, Alex.”

“Please,” Alex said quietly, the smallest part of her still wanting to deny herself what she needed in the name of preserving her dignity (dignity that wouldn’t be diminished, even when she was a wet, begging mess on Casey’s kitchen floor) “Please fuck me, Casey.”

“Oh yeah? You want it? All you had to do was ask.”

---

“I want you quiet,”

Alex had whispered in her ear a month ago as Casey sat in her lap, Alex tracing her fingertips up and down her body, pressing harder where she knew Casey was sensitive. A day, Casey had noted, that was exactly a month after the first time they hooked up. Two months of whatever this was, tormenting her. She’d asked Alex to keep it completely casual at first, and Alex had agreed so emphatically that Casey didn’t want to broach the topic again. But, fuck, Casey thought. It’s getting hard to do that.

“And, sweetheart,” the nickname had caused Casey to dig her nails into Alex’s hip, suppressing a moan. “If you can’t be quiet, I will make you do so,” Alex said, dangling a gag from her fingertips before setting it down on her side table. Part of Casey wanted to scream and moan as loud as she could, wanting whatever discipline would come her way, but a larger part felt overcome with the need to do what Alex asked her to, to please her in any way she could. She nodded, swallowing.

“You remember the safeword? And what to do if you can’t talk?” Alex had asked. Casey nodded again, and when her head was looking down, she leant forward to kiss Alex’s neck.

“Hmm,” Alex said, “good idea. But not right now.” Alex slid her left hand up Casey’s body from where it had been resting on her thigh and gently placed it around her neck. When Casey gasped, Alex knew it had been the right choice for tonight. She applied the slightest pressure with the side of her thumb and Casey choked down a moan, eyes already watering from the effort of silence. Alex finally met Casey’s entrance with her fingers, Casey’s eyes rolling and chest flushing from how worked up she was. “I want you to ride them, Casey. Can you do that for me?” Casey lifted her hips up in response, Alex keeping her hand close to motionless. Casey sunk back down, slowly picking up the pace, but unable to get the kind of pressure she needed to get off, an infuriating kind of denial that Alex was enjoying all too much. Casey reached for Alex’s hand, pulling it from her neck and taking two fingers in her mouth to keep from screaming.

The sight was so perfect to Alex, that she almost never wanted it to stop. But, when she could tell Casey’s resolve was wearing thin at the dissatisfaction, She pulled both her hands away from the woman. Ignoring the look of disappointment in Casey’s eyes, she repositioned them so that Casey was leaning her back against Alex. She reached around her waist and entered Casey again, circling her clit with her other hand, finally pushing Casey over the edge, amazingly quiet as she muffled herself with her own hand.

As Casey came down from her orgasm, Alex wrapped her hands around Casey’s lap, holding her down tightly.

“Such a good girl, Casey.”

---

This time, Alex enters.

Another late night at the office has her feeling dejected, disoriented, and hungry.

For what, though. Hoping she and Casey are truly the only two left tonight, she runs her nails along Casey’s window two times before pushing the door open.

“Freak,” Casey says, immediately looking up from her laptop. Alex only shrugs in response, knowing that Casey has grounds to say something like that.

“You’re mad at me,” Alex states, doesn’t ask.

“Did I say that?”

“Fuck Case, I’m not in the mood for playing around right now. What did I do to you.”

Casey looks at her in stunned silence, wondering why Alex had decided that now was the time and here was the place to bring this up.

“I assumed you weren’t interested when you didn’t text.”

Alex feels a swell of anger rising inside her. “That is what this is about? I didn’t text you back?”

“Usually, not speaking to someone indicates that you don’t care about them.”

“Or that you don’t want to come off as clingy. Really, Casey?”

“Yes. I realized I was always the person asking you out and didn’t do it to see if you would. You didn’t and it’s been like two weeks, so I imagined you probably weren’t missing me all that much.’

Alex placed her hands in her pockets, guilty, sad, turned on, and furious.

“Really Novak?” She said, her tone cold and cruel.

“Yes, that is what happened.”

Alex makes an incredulous noise, lifts her head up as though to leave, but hears Casey call her back in.

“Look. I’m not mad, Cabot. I’m just painfully stubborn.”

Alex considers whether or not to accept her apology, but eventually does. She lowers the blind on Casey’s door and leans in for a kiss, pushing Casey down to sit on her desk. She deepens it, her tongue pressing firmly as she feels Casey bit her lip.

So, that’s where tonight was going to go. Excellent.

#svu fanfic #fanfic #svu fanfiction #calex #casey novak #alex cabot #casey x alex #alex x casey #wlw fanfiction #lesbian fanfiction

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laurelleghuleh · 3 years

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𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, one-shot

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.7k

𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐨𝐧: Ao3, Wattpad

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: post-time skip, aged-up characters, implied/referenced sex, sensitive topics(?)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: This is a kind of “interactive” one-shot. At some point, you’ll find the link for the playlist I’ve created for the story. It’s not mandatory, of course. The songs are mentioned and their lyrics are quoted anyways.

I tried to keep the reader as gender-neutral as possible, I hope it works.

To be honest, I wrote the first half of this one-shot at 3 am after a very deep conversation with a friend of mine about struggling with self-love as “young adults”. It wasn’t meant to be public but I felt like sharing it. I hope this will help or at least cheer you up as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Lastly, italics when Daichi sings/for the lyrics and English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

Thanks for reading this, Laurelle.

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Taxes, laundry, rent, bills, grocery shopping, bank accounts, job interviews. These were just some of the things whose thought alone made you already shiver. Adulthood and the multiple responsibilities that had come with it scared the shit out of you, at times it completely fucked up your sleep schedule, and put your sanity at stake, but at least you weren’t alone in this. At least, you had Daichi.

You two had faced college together, one at each other’s side, and now you were again together in that new chapter of your life called adulthood.

By then, you two had been living in that little, yet cozy apartment for a few months. The Karasuno team had lent you a hand by making the move less hard, unpacking boxes and decorating the empty shelves with an unnecessary amount of frames, random objects, and souvenirs from their trips. All of this as Daichi was training at your hometown’s Police Department and as you were trying to find your place in the world, between part-time jobs and “real” job interviews.

The new routine was dull, draining, at times even overwhelming. The closer you were getting to make your dream life come true, the more your daily life felt like a nightmare. The more you felt tired, unmotivated, ultimately empty. And you couldn't help but wonder if that was really worth it anymore.

You started to slowly give up on your hobbies and passions, to spend your free time on the new couch, just spacing out, and to eventually forget about yourself. You didn’t want to sound too pathetic but life seemed to have lost its flavor. At that point, it just tasted like disinfectants and instant noodles.

Those fucking instant noodles … You thought as you looked at yourself in the mirror that evening. None of your planned outfits for that night fitted anymore, none, and at the sudden realization, that familiar smell of instant noodles rose inside your nostrils. But instant noodles weren’t really the point. Your outfits not fitting anymore wasn’t the point either. That you in that mirror was the point. That stranger. That empty shell.

The familiar boomy sound of keys twisting inside the front door’s lock, a click, and Daichi was finally home.

“I’m baaack” You heard him say - almost yell - and then saw him coming inside the kitchen to greet you.

“May I have a kiss?” He shyly asked, placing his hand on the small of your back, drawing little circles to get your attention.

“Sure,” You turned your head for a quick, soft peck on his lips, then got back to your chore.

“Still in your PJs, babe?” He commented, his voice small, clearly weakened by his long, draining day at work.

By that time, you were supposed to be ready to head out, but something in the process went wrong. On the other side of the city, a nice restaurant - highly suggested by Michimiya sometime before - was waiting for you and Daichi to arrive in twenty minutes.

“Yeah… I have to finish cooking these for tomorrow before we head out…” You murmured as your words fell down to the pot beneath you.

That wasn’t a lie, but in all fairness, you were only trying to avoid the truth. Little did you know you were about to experience what living with a future detective really meant.

Besides his professional deformation, when it came to you, Daichi never failed to sense when something was off. Even just from a slight change of your tone. He was so used to your voice that the most insignificant variation of its sound seemed to conceal a tiny, secret message only for him to decipher.

Anyways, you kept looking down, your mind somewhere else, your eyes still lost in the little fog coming from the pot. You still didn’t dare to look at him, which was rather unusual. Strange. Kind of suspicious.

Daichi rocked his head in your direction, trying to find other tangible clues for that particular case he wasn’t expecting to face once at home. Yet nothing was really out of place, except that gloomy aura all around you. Therefore, he decided to just play it cool for the moment and let you be.

Maybe he was overthinking. Maybe he was just being paranoid. The only thing that really mattered was that night to be perfect for both of you.

It wasn’t a special occasion or else, just Daichi’s first free evening after a whole month of night shifts. And in addition to that, that dinner had been meticulously planned the previous week. Nothing could have ruined it. Nothing.

Yeah, he was just being paranoid, for sure. Nothing to worry about.

Daichi moved away from you and walked towards the front door again. Then, he plugged his phone on the little speaker at the entrance and played the playlist you two loved to blast whenever you were at home, cleaning the house, or just swinging from a room to another.

And that was when everything got even more suspicious in Daichi’s perspective.

The first song came on (“Come Through and Chill” by Miguel, J.Cole, Salaam Remi ), the little bass drums slowly filling the room, vibrating from wall to wall, gradually reaching your feet through that old wooden pavement. And yet, you stayed completely still.

Suspicious .

“Everything ok?” He casually asked you from a distance, putting the phone back down on top of the speaker.

“Yeah, good, good. You?” You mumbled, trying to hide your words under the rhythm.

Even more suspicious .

It wasn’t only your voice, but your posture, your face, just your aura that seemed so… Different. Even though you two hadn’t been living together for long at that point, he could simply tell what looked ordinary and what not. You knew each other and dated since college, which at that point meant years of studying the other up close, not only as partners but firstly - and mainly - as friends. Two best friends always looking out for one another. Those had been years of sincere trust and affection.

Funny thing was that neither of you could imagine that a casual encounter in a cafè would have taken that turn. But Suga knew. And Asahi too. Everybody knew, except you two.

One morning, the vending machine of your department was out of order, and that was just the tenth curveball of that day. It’s not even thirty past eight and I already want to go back to sleep , you sighed, walking outside the campus, looking for a cafè or something.

As fate would have it, the tiny, little-known coffee shop you found right behind the corner was Asahi’s workplace, which brought both Suga and Daichi to have their breakfast there every single morning.

Your first time there, your order was mistaken with Daichi’s, one thing led to another, and after a while, you two started hanging out frequently. Then even more consistently. Then no Asahi or Suga around. No coffee shop. Study sessions at his place. Then at your place. A movie night that actually looked and felt like a proper date. And eventually, that friendship blossomed into something else, something pretty serious.

You didn’t even realize when or how that happened, it just felt right. You two didn’t even have a real “date” for when your relationship had begun. For the sake of simplicity, you both used to count from your first kiss, both aware that whatever you two shared had started even before that, even that morning in that tiny, little-known coffee shop.

That was the type of love that comes easily, without warning, silently tiptoeing into your life.

Back in your apartment, once freed from his jacket, Daichi made again his appearance at your side, now wearing a playful look and about to hit his favorite line of the lyrics. He almost made you startle.

“Hello, stranger… It's been a minute since we last kicked it” He sang and swung around you, positioning himself right behind you to wrap you in a warm hug. Then, gingerly nestling his head in the curve of your neck, he breathed against your skin, “Now that I’m home, I’m all good… ”

Bear hugs were Daichi’s thing and also your not-so-secret Achilles’ heel, for sure. So, you just leaned in his embrace and welcomed his familiar, calming scent. But still, you didn’t have the courage to face him.

Very, very suspicious .

Your oddly detached behaviors made his brow pinch and his mind wander as he left soft pecks all over your jaw and neck. No reaction , Daichi thought, taking mental notes of your actions.

At that point, he gave you one last, gentle kiss, this time on your shoulder, right where the hem of your shirt met your skin, and then silently made a step back. Daichi’s first thought was to temporarily let you be. A quick shower and a change of clothes were very much needed after that long day. He thought he still got time to unravel your mood.

Still focused on the pot, you heard him tell you, before disappearing in your bedroom, “I’ve been thinking about tonight all day, love. I literally can’t wait to try this restaurant!”

You felt a knot in your stomach.

Why was it so hard for you to simply tell him? To simply put into words how you felt? You knew he would have understood, you knew how sensitive Daichi was, especially when it came to you. But to look so needy, so lost in his eyes made you feel just weak. Not vulnerable, not emotional, just a weak person in need. And the last thing you wanted was to look or feel like a burden to Daichi. You knew how stressed and overworked he was. That was a pretty tough period for you both and you felt like you had no right to complain. Daichi never did, and all you wanted was to be as strong as he was.

It didn’t take much for Daichi to be ready, all cleaned up and dressed for the occasion. Nothing too elegant or pretentious, he was a very casual type of guy even when it came to clothes, but that was still your night. A little more effort won’t hurt , he thought as he picked his outfit, preferring a classic, white, button-up shirt to his favorite sweater - his safe choice whenever he didn’t know what to wear.

He just wanted to look good that night, to look good for your eyes only.

Right when “Sunflower” by Post Malone and Swae Lee started, Daichi’s unmistakable cologne stood above the food’s thick smell coming from the pot. You immediately turned around.

He looked handsome, as always. The view made your belly twitch again.

“Hey hon, remember that time we went to see Spiderman with Suga, Asahi, and Kyoko?” He started to speak, crossing the room with slow strides in your direction.

“You fell in love with this song on the spot. Oh my god, I think you blasted it in the car at least ten times on our way back...” He said wrapping his arms around your waist again, making you turn and trying to initiate a slow dance with you.

“I know you’re scared of the unknown, you don’t wanna be alone” He sang, “I know I always come and go,” The lyrics hitting way too close to home, “But it’s out of my control”

At that point, he held you tight, roaming his big, callous hands all over your back as he glanced at the pot from above your shoulder.

“That looks delicious, babe. Can’t wait to eat it tomorrow. I just know it tastes as good as it looks…”

There he was again, being all supportive and loving no matter what. So damn cheesy, he could have made someone sick. But not you.

You weren’t much of a chef yourself and you knew it, but you tried your best. And Daichi appreciated it a lot. He was so proud of you, always so blindly proud. He was undoubtedly a better chef than you were, but he still left you space to experiment and try out new things.

You never thought you could enjoy cooking that much, but probably Daichi being a foodie played a role in that. A foodie, well, possibly the biggest foodie you knew. The thought alone of food could make him insane, let’s say slightly irrational like he wasn’t functioning normally.

That was at the beginning when you both had all the time in the world to even plan a food competition and invite all your friends over to eat and vote for your plates. In the beginning, when that apartment’s walls were still white and bare, when the only furniture you owned was an old red couch and several boxes with all your things still packed inside. In the beginning, when there were way fewer things to care about in your daily routine.

“It’s ready, I guess. I should turn off the stove… ” You mumbled against his chest, then turned around still sweetly trapped in his embrace.

“Then you’re left in the dust… mhmhIdon’trememberthewordsmm” He kept singing behind your back, “ You’re the sunflower, I think your love would be too-”

When the little flame disappeared under the pot, a sharp sigh accidentally left your mouth.

“Daichi…” You breathed, squeezing his right hand still gently pressed on your belly.

Daichi .

You rarely called him by his first name. You’d usually go with “love” or “babe” or whatever sweet name came into your mind at that specific moment. Daichi . “Daichi” was something like a safeword, a code for “I’m dead serious right now”, “Your mum is calling” or, like this time, “Something is wrong”.

At that signal, the Karasuno’s former captain knew exactly what to do as if a ball had just flown past an invisible volleyball net right in front of him. That was just the confirmation he needed to make his move.

Living together, making a long-term relationship works, sticking together regardless, all of these for you both were based on the little things you started to learn about one another. Most of the time failing but never giving up on the other person. And this, this was one of those “little things”.

Daichi .

Wordlessly, he went straight to his phone and turned down the music at its lowest, the songs just a light, almost unperceivable background. You turned in his direction, watching him attentively, in silence, until he beckoned you to follow him.

You did as told and walked with him towards the living room, where he guided you to sit on the couch, your right hand gently secured in his.

He sat down on his heels, right in front of you, and waited, waited for you to say something, giving you all the time you needed to process your thoughts.

Minutes passed, the music still softly playing in the background.

Spendin' all my nights alone, waitin' for you to call me

You're the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep

Tell me what I'm waitin' for

I know it's hard but we need each other

(“SUGAR” by BROCKHAMPTON)

When you lifted your gaze to meet his sweet eyes, like two big, dark chocolate nuggets, you still didn’t know what to say. Automatically, his lips parted to catch your attention.

“Love,” His voice so tender it literally broke your heart to keep that facade any longer.

Your lips puckered, your nostrils widened, your eyes got unexpectedly watery until the first of many tears started to run down your face. When your head fell forwards, hiding between your hands, Daichi immediately got you. His arms circled your frame, welcoming you against his chest as you kept weeping noisily.

Daichi stayed silent, his head pressed against your shoulder, moving in sync with each of your sobs.

“Let it out, babe, don’t hold it back.”

At those words, your weeps only seemed to get worse to the point you didn’t know anymore why you were crying in the first place. Maybe you just needed to let it out, to rest, and let yourself get lost in Daichi’s embrace. His warmth felt like home and it was so comforting that after a while you finally cooled down. Nothing was wrong anymore, you were safe and sound.

“When you’re ready, I’m here to listen.” He whispered.

You nodded against his skin, then drew back, revealing your puffed and reddish face. He immediately stood up and walked towards the kitchen. Once back, he kneeled again in front of you and handed you tissues and a glass of water.

“Thanks,” You murmured and then blew your nose.

Daichi just stared at you, his eyes wandering all over your figure as you shrugged and sighed. You opened your mouth only to close it a second later. You didn’t even know where to start. Your bottom lip quivered, you felt like you’re about to cry again.

“What’s going on, love?” His voice small and tender.

You sighed again and gave a quick look to the clock behind him. It was almost time to leave. Actually, at that point, you were already late. Your eyes found his again and a thought occurred to you. He looked so happy until a moment before, singing and dancing, all dressed up, ready to leave and try that restaurant. But now there he was, all worried for you, down on his knees, not caring if that position was messing and creasing his shirt.

“It’s really nothing. Just had a bad day. I should go get-” You tried to stand up, but Daichi’s hands stopped you right there, pinning you down again.

“Are you sure, that’s just it?”

You couldn’t physically bring yourself to lie to Daichi. Not even for the smallest things. Not even for a white lie.

“To be honest, I don’t really feel like going out tonight…”

His eyebrows twitched. First clue unlocked.

“That’s fine. Let me just give them a call-”

“No, no. There’s no need. We should go anyway. It’s really nothing.”

Daichi was never really fond of you being difficult, he’d rather prefer you being straightforward. But sometimes, your pride overtook you. Nevertheless, that was not the right time to point out you were being too stubborn, so he just reassured you, saying,

“Listen, it’s up to you, babe. Your wish is my command, you know that, right?”

Daichi was always so kind. From time to time, you even believed he was way too good for you. Too good, it’s almost unfair , you thought.

“Really, it’s nothing… I’ve been thinking about tonight all day too. I couldn’t wait to finally spend some time with you…”

He giggled, your sweet tone instantly reassured him, “You know we can always stay at home and just watch a movie, right? Just tell me if you don’t feel like going out and I’ll call the restaurant right away.”

“Well, it’s not that… I… I…” You sighed. You really were being too difficult that time. “To be honest, I don’t know what-” Your voice cracked, “I really don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Daichi leaned closer and kissed your forehead, then stood up and grabbed his phone. From a distance you clearly heard him talk to someone, apologizing and saying something else you didn’t quite catch. The restaurant , you thought. You instantly walked towards him and tried to oppose, but Daichi politely hushed you and just hung up.

“Why did you do that?” You asked him.

“Cause it seems like you can’t decide right now. The restaurant can wait, really, but whatever is going on with you cannot. And now, if you want to tell me more about it I’m here, if not I’ll just let you be, or if-”

You grabbed his hands, stopping him. Your head swung from side to side as you collected your thoughts.

“It’s just that… I don’t know where to start.” You said and plopped yourself down on the couch.

He softly asked you when that started, if you remembered what little event had possibly triggered your current mood, and suddenly the right words found their way out of your mouth.

It had just been one of those everything-goes-wrong kinds of days, no rest, and too many things to do that eventually you found yourself already in front of the closet without even realizing it. Your eyes were drained and unfocused after all those hours in front of your laptop, working, sending emails, and stuff like that. Your stomach was aching and bloating after eating the previous night’s leftovers. Your legs were sore. Your mind was blank, empty, and at the same time also full of imprecise thoughts about work, what you needed to do before heading out, the dinner, the clothes, that mirror right in front of you.

You described to him this confused overwhelming sensation you had been experiencing for the previous months and all along Daichi was carefully listening to you, nodding and humming. From time to time he tried to comfort you, saying that it was quite understandable since you both started a new, complicated chapter of your lives since there were so many things to be settled and done, etc. He even apologized if he had accidentally neglected you in some way. He was so stressed and focused on work, he barely noticed what was going on with you. But you didn’t seem to listen to his words. Every single time you just replied with the same anxious thoughts you had already said before.

At some point, Daichi interrupted you, saying, “Babe, look at me and be honest,” then grabbed your hands and looked straight into your still reddish eyes, “Do you want me to listen … Or do you want some advice ?”

That was a thing Daichi had learned with time, not only from you but also from his experience as a captain. Sometimes people just need to vent, some other times to be taken by the hand and helped, but there are also other times when people may even need both.

You sighed. “Both I guess?”

He hummed and kept listening at other incoherent stuff you mumbled next about yourself, your image, your perception of yourself, “And that damn outfit! I’ve been thinking about it all day! It was my only option and it didn’t work! I looked terrible, I could barely stand my reflection in the mirror… Why do I have to feel so miserable about a damn outfit?! And then I put my PJ back on and I thought I looked like a fucking cartoon! I wanted to hide under a blanket and just disappear… I must sound delusional right now…”

New clues unlocked.

“No, absolutely, you’re not delusional, love. But... Let me ask you this. What is really bothering you? How you look or how you feel ?”

You tilted your head and pondered his question. At that moment you realized you had never thought about it that way before. How I look or how I feel… , you kept thinking for a while.

However, you still weren’t able to unravel that truth, therefore you just kept rumbling about those stupid clothes not fitting you anymore for another solid couple of minutes.

Daichi chuckled.

“That just means you need to do more shopping, babe,” He pointed out and leaned in to pepper your neck with soft kisses. You couldn’t help but giggle as his kisses alternated with random names of your favorite shops where you two could have gone to the next day to buy something. But eventually, you lightly pushed him away, not because you really wanted to but... Something wasn’t still quite right and you didn’t know what it was. That made you feel ultimately uneasy.

Daichi drew back on his heels, his hands still on your sides, sweetly caressing your hips. He stayed there and just contemplated you as your mind spun around and other vague thoughts piled up in your head.

“So, is there something else?” He softly asked.

“I guess so… It’s not about the clothes. I think it’s me. I look so different and I feel so different, I can barely recognize myself.”

“Love, you have so many things to do, I know it’s hard to find time for you to eat clean or be active. Maybe I should propose less pizza and stuff—”

“No, no, babe, it’s not you... I just feel awful about myself.”

“You feel , but you’re definitely not. I guarantee you that.” Daichi immediately comforted you.

“You know the saying, love is blind…” You tried to joke around.

“It sure is. I could love you with my eyes closed, but even with my eyes wide open, I can’t see anything wrong with you.”

Daichi’s love confessions were sappy at their core, but his voice was always so direct and honest they always sounded like facts. And they never failed to catch you off guard. Daichi used to be shy and awkward in the beginning of your relationship. He was constantly blushing hard and messing with his sentences whenever it came to talk to you. However, with time, his affection and ways started to be so sincere and straightforward you didn’t even know how to contradict him or how to even say anything back.

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes…” His tone suddenly painted with melancholy, “Then you could see how beautiful you are, how precious, how…” He felt it too. He felt he was getting too emotional, so he tried to take the edge off, coming back to his goofy side. “No, no. Rewind. You might end up dumping me. Nah nah, not gonna happen!” He muffled, hiding his head against your belly, curling up with his torso over your lap.

You couldn’t help but laugh. You loved him so much.

“Jokes aside,” He said, lifting his head and looking up at you. “Tell me, babe, is this really such a big deal? Because if it bothers you to this point, you should think about it more carefully... Can I help you in some way?”

“Honestly, I-I don’t know how you could help me,” You confessed, “I feel like I’m not taking care of myself, but I also lack motivation to actually do something about it. It’s a dog chasing its own tail, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I get it… Well, I could encourage you, first. But then I could also help you and try to do things with you, like…” He thought about it for a couple of seconds. “What if I call Tanaka? He's a personal trainer but he also knows a lot about nutrition. He may suggest something delicious but fast and healthy for us to cook. It could be beneficial for both of us. We have been literally eating our stress away recently. You know what, I feel bloated too…” Daichi added and then proceeded to touch his tummy.

You lightly pushed him again and started to shower him with compliments. You couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that Daichi could ever possibly be insecure about himself. He was… Daichi. He was just perfect.

He smirked at your reaction and got closer to shut your mouth with a sudden, deep kiss.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He whispered, just an inch away from your lips.

“Sure, what is it?” You said almost laughing. A secret?

“Ok, look at my pants,” Daichi said, drawing back until he stood up, right in front of you.

“Yeah, I’m looking at them and they look really good on you-” You started to say and tried to make him spin around to point out how good he looked in those dark pants. That was actually your favorite pair, you loved the way they highlighted his muscular legs, how- But he stopped you right there.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ok, thanks, but have you noticed that I’m not wearing any belt? And actually haven’t worn one in a while?”

You frowned. Where is he getting at?

“And you know why? I don’t really need one anymore. These pants stay up regardless,” Daichi confessed, giggling, “What I mean is… Look, you still like how they fit me. I still like how they fit me. I just know that you would like them even in another size. I would like them as well.”

You just stared at him, quietly pondering his words.

“Anyways, the pants are not the real point. These are just pants. Those things that didn’t fit you aren’t the real point either. You see what I’m trying to tell you?”

You did. You got what he meant, but you were still doubting yourself somehow. Because, in your mind, not fitting your old clothes was just the result of something that slipped out of your hands as you struggled to take care of anything else, except yourself. It wasn’t about your weight or the clothes, it was about losing track of yourself in the process.

“You think I’m perfect while I may, well, I am certainly not. Same goes for you. None of us is perfect, never been, never will. We are just us,” He got closer and sweetly brushed your hair behind your ears, “But for me, in my eyes, you are. And apparently, I’m too in yours. And that’s all that matters.”

Again, just straight facts.

Also, whenever he gave you one of his motivational speeches, he really looked like a captain. You could vividly picture the scene in your head, his teammates carefully listening to him, hanging off his words, right before an important match or even just a regular training session.

“I know it’s extremely cheesy to hear, but it’s also the truth. You’re perfect just the way you are and you’ll always be to me…” His voice small as he kneeled again in front of you. “Even now. Even if you feel lost. The you you’re looking for is still there, it’s not going anywhere. You just need some time and patience to find yourself again.”

You immediately cupped his face, about to tell him something, but before you could spell a single word, he whispered,

“But… But if this is a problem, something you want to change or improve, something you need some help with, then let’s do it, let’s do it together. No. Better. Let’s do it right now!”

Daichi immediately stood up and ran back to the kitchen, where you used to keep your little notebook. Once back, armed with a pen and unmovable willpower, he sat down again and opened the agenda on your lap. Going through your schedule, he noticed how packed it was, pages and pages filled with appointments and notes, but that didn’t scare him.

“Mmm… So, here’s the plan. Our lunch breaks on Monday and Friday look pretty long. We could… Meet at the park. You know, the one right after the supermarket, down the street-”

You nodded, showing him you were following him.

“We could jog a little and then eat something together! That way we’d see each other, have some fun and do something good for our health too… I know jogging doesn’t actually sound much fun, but I swear we’ll have a good time, babe. What do you think?”

Your lips curled upwards into a soft, little half-moon. You couldn’t say no to that.

“Sounds like a plan…” You simply commented.

He looked relieved and then added, “Also, remember that lunch at my mum’s next Sunday? Why don’t we just skip it and go somewhere fancy, like a spa-”

“But we promised-” You tried to object.

“Babe, I know, I know, but we can go some other time. She’ll understand.”

“Okay…”

“It’ll be beneficial for both of us, for real. To be honest, I think I’m this close to a breakdown too,” He laughed.

“You’re right, we should definitely go… You know, I was also thinking about joining some sort of club. I feel like I don't have a hobby or a passion anymore. It’s always work, work, work, the apartment, work, work, work. I feel so… Arid? Mentally. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah… Me too, I was thinking the same exact thing this morning actually… Maybe I should join a volleyball team again. Nothing serious but like a team to play with, just once in a while-”

Your eyes widened, “Oh God! Yes! Absolutely! You should definitely do that, love!”

Daichi nervously chuckled. He wasn’t expecting such an enthusiastic and energetic reaction from you, not after having seen you so blue and distant since he had come back home.

You loved seeing him playing volleyball. You still remembered vividly the times you used to sneak a peek at his practice and matches during college. The first time you saw him playing, all sweat and absorbed in the game, you did a double-take. He looked so hot.

“Alrighty, I’ll definitely think about it… Don’t worry, love, we’ll figure something out.”

“As we always did…” You added, shyly smiling at him.

That situation made you wonder. Life could be hard at times, but if you had the right people around you to rely on, to fight with, or simply talk to, it didn’t seem like that tough anymore.

“Yeah…” He smiled back and instinctively leaned forward to hug you tightly as you welcomed his frame against your chest.

After a few silent minutes, you muffled against his shoulder, “Thank you… I don’t even know how to tell you how thankful I am right now… ”

And in all fairness, there wasn’t much else to add.

“You could start by being less hard on yourself, love,” Daichi said, still pressed against you, “You’re doing so great…”

“You’re way too good to me.” You murmured back, your voice slightly above a whisper.

At your words, he brushed his head from side to side against your shoulder, silently disagreeing with your affirmation. He was just as good to you as you deserved.

Right at that moment, “Best Part” by Daniel Caesar and H.E.R. came on and Daichi thought that there couldn't have been a better time than that for that specific song to start.

He drew back from your hug and guided you to stand up with him, then walked backward to reach the center of the living room, his eyes still fixed on you.

“Siri, turn up the volume!” He ordered his phone to do as he took you in his arms.

You simply stared at him and followed his actions, like a puppet under his spell. His arms welcomed your figure and your fingers locked, your two bodies perfectly molded one against the other as you slow-danced to the rhythm, allowing yourself to utterly enjoy that moment.

A strange feeling warmed your belly, like an overwhelming wave of happiness was overtaking all your senses. Your mouth instinctively opened to shower Daichi with random compliments, words of gratitude, and all sorts of sweet nothings. He loved to be praised by you but after a while he tried to playfully hush you, holding you even tighter and whispered next to your ear a line of that song that seemed to be written right for you. Better, right for him to sing it for you.

“I just wanna see how beautiful you are, you know that I see it, I know you're a star. Where you go I follow, no matter how far. If life is a movie, oh you're the best part…”

The music eventually faded and an hour later you and Daichi were once again in your bed, curled up in your sheets, as you leafed through Netflix’s catalog, fruitlessly. In the end, you just end up cuddling and ultimately dozing off. Nothing special had happened that night, but you felt so restored, at peace, as if everything was completely fine again.

When you woke up the morning after, Daichi was already gone. You were used to this too. No night shifts meant early shifts. But this also had its perks, like the tiny heart-shaped post-it notes he liked to leave in the bathroom for you to read them as you washed your face or brushed your teeth. The breakfast? Ready on the kitchen counter, another post-it note on top of it. And then another one, on the front door, “I can’t wait to see you at lunch <3”

At noon, you two met up at the park as planned. A little warm-up under Daichi’s careful instructions and then you were ready to start. Just a casual jog, nothing too demanding, as you enjoyed the fresh air and the good company of that day.

During the whole run, Daichi kept encouraging you like a real captain and a loyal partner would do, saying that you were doing great, that you looked very good in those leggings, that you were half done at that point, and then that you could do it, you were almost at the end at that point.

“The last lap, babe! We’re almost done!” Daichi shouted, turned his head in your direction, and gave you a wide, shining smile.

“I-I think I’m done for today…” You panted as you struggled to keep up with his pace.

“Six more minutes and we’re done! C’mon! Don’t give up!” He incited but you soon waved the white flag, signaling him your surrender.

Daichi halted and got closer to you. A strange, gloomy aura suddenly spread all around him. A mischievous grin appeared on his face right when he whispered, an inch away from your sweaty face,

“Quitters don’t get their prize, you know that?”

Your breath almost failed you, when you told him, “Yeah, yeah, you can eat my lunch, I don’t want it anymore…”

But apparently, Daichi had another prize in his mind, another type of meal .

“Mmmh, that’s not the reward I was planning to give you…” His voice sounded dangerously seductive for the location you two were at the moment. Your eyes widened at the sudden realization.

His hands slowly roamed from your hands to your shoulders, then cupped your cheeks. His tone got back to normal when he playfully squeezed your face and said, “Six minutes!”

Six minutes passed and the jog was finally over. A little picnic at the park, a quick shower together at home, and then you were good to go. Your afternoon’s tasks awaited you.

That evening Tanaka and Kyoko joined you for dinner. They were both more than happy to give you some advice, to recommend easy and healthy recipes, and to see how the apartment had changed since their last visit.

Later that night, you and Daichi were again in your bed, tired but definitely satisfied. Your back was pressed against his broad chest, your body secured in his warm embrace, your thoughts were quiet, both your body and mind at peace.

You had worked, you had jogged, you had had some fun with Daichi at the park, you had also found some time to finish that book you had forgotten on your desk. Well, actually, Daichi had been texting you during the whole afternoon to remind you to take some breaks from time to time, to have a snack or read something. The dinner with Tanaka and Kyoko had cheered you up more than planned and that full, yet satisfying day was finally over.

You were still lost in your thoughts when you felt Daichi snuggle up, holding you even tighter than before. His left arm was wrapped around your figure while the right one was on top of yours, his fingers gently rubbing your hand, then your wrist and forearm, drawing imaginary patterns all over your skin. As he got closer, ultimately closing that tiny gap between you two, his head found the crook of your neck and gently nestled in it. Then he asked you, his voice hoarse with weariness,

“So? About the jog, did you like it?”

“Weeeell, let’s say that I liked it but mainly because we did it together.” You confessed, “Would I do it alone? I don’t know… Maybe?”

“Fair enough,” He replied and placed a sloppy kiss on your shoulder, his fingers still loosely tracing your arm. Then there was silence, the room was from time to time filled only with the muffled sound of those soft pecks he kept on leaving on your skin.

“You know,” Daichi whispered at some point, between a kiss and another, “Jogging is not the only option…” He paused to clear his throat, “There are other types of activities that we could do…” Another kiss, his breath warm against your neck, his tone husky with desire when he added, “That we could do indoor…”

#daichi x you #daichi x reader #daichi headcanon #daichi sawamura #daddy daichi #haikyuu oneshot #one shot #read on ao3 #read on wattpad #spotify #i wrote this at 3am #sawamura daichi x reader #sawamura daichi #fluff

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sunagitsunee · 5 years

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[From the Abyss - Complete] by: ogenkiyuki Read Right to Left

Levi finally wakes up after the incident that rendered him mostly unconscious for days, and tries to recall how he escaped the clutches of death.

I just miss my vets and I can’t wait for them to show up. Somehow I just can’t shake these ideas from my head so I just decided to wing it. I posted my first draft last night and I received positive messages so thanks guys TTuTT.

(Somewhere along the way here though my hands failed me LOL, I’m sorry)

I also have a fanfic called Achilles Heel in AO3 about the same topic, if you want to check that out ;)

#levi ackerman #levi #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levihan #hanji zoe #hange zoe #mine #artsies #from the abyss #ugh take my feels

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ruminativerabbi · 5 years

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Pandemic Purim

Purim was a slightly melancholic experience at Shelter Rock this year: first we cancelled the dancing, then we cancelled the party, then we cancelled the whole evening so as best to conform to the advice we were getting indirectly from the CDC in Atlanta, less indirectly from the Nassau County Board of Health, and not at all indirectly from physicians in the community who felt we would be putting people—and particularly our seniors—at risk by bringing them together in large numbers in a confined space. I suppose some must have felt we were over-reacting. But can you really over-react when we are talking about the health and welfare of a whole community and specifically of its oldest and youngest members? Better safe than sorry!

And yet, even so, the whole experience left me feeling a bit despondent, a bit blue—but not specifically because I was or am suffering over the decision itself. When I analyzed my thinking, in fact, I realized that my mood had more to do with the way the decision—and the whole coronavirus outbreak—had somehow managed to shift the way I think about Purim itself, moving me along from considering it basically to be about the great success of the Jews of Persia in standing together to defend themselves to focusing instead on just how vulnerable those people were in the first place, how completely they would surely have been annihilated if Queen Esther hadn’t found the courage to enter the king’s throne room uninvited, if she hadn’t found the words to stir the king to action on her people’s behalf, if she hadn’t been the paragon of virtue and bravery as which we more than reasonably remember her. It all worked out well, of course. But it also could not have…and that sense of vulnerability is what I noted coming to the fore in me and displacing the raucous delight our happiest holiday generally elicits in me easily.

And then I read Meir Soloveitchik’s essay published in the New York Times on Purim day itself. Rabbi Soloveitchik, the rabbi of the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue on Central Park West, is one of my favorite essayists. (He is also only the synagogue’s tenth rabbi since the American Revolution, which detail seems impossible to believe and yet is apparently true.) He writes in several different forums, all of which I try to keep up with, but this Op-Ed piece for the Times (click here) made a special impression on me both because it both confirmed my mood but also because it helped me understand about the whole concept of vulnerability that had somehow come to the fore in my thinking about the holiday.

Rabbi Soloveitchik’s basic point is that there is something slightly both slightly self-serving and seriously strange about celebrating the happy end of the Purim story without pausing to contemplate the political instability that is, after all, at the heart of the tale. He cites a comment made by his uncle, the late Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik’s in the latter’s book, Days of Deliverance: Essays on Purim and Chanukah, which I would like also to quote. “If,” the elder Rabbi Soloveitchik wrote, “a Prime Minister who just yesterday enjoyed the full confidence and trust of the king was suddenly convicted and executed,” he reflected, “then who is wise and clairvoyant enough to assure us that the same unreasonable, absurd, neurotic change of mood and mind will not repeat itself?” And, of course, the answer is that none of us is: King Achashveirosh is depicted in the Megillah as the most terrifying political figure of all: the idiot-king possessed of immense and unchallengeable power who is so pathetically eager to please the world that he basically agrees to whatever proposal is put to him no matter how malign or barbaric, and no matter how reliable or unreliable the person putting it to him might be.

The younger Rabbi Soloveitchik, the essayist whose work I so admire, then goes on to ask the obvious question: if his uncle’s observation is correct, which it certainly is, then why exactly is Purim celebrated as a holiday at all? It’s a good question. And his answer is also a good one. Queen Esther, he writes, embodied precisely the character traits— and foremost among them initiative, bravery, and insight—that made it possible for the Jews to survive both the terrifying imbecility of an Achashveirosh and the malign savagery of a Haman. And so we celebrate, not the specific incident that gave rise to the holiday, but rather the possibility of heroism that constitutes its greatest lesson. That last phrase “the possibility of heroism,” comes directly from the final paragraph in Rabbi Soloveitchik’s essay, where he writes that, for all Purim “marks the fragility of Jewish security,” it also represents the possibility of heroism in the face of that vulnerability. And then the essay concludes with the thought that Purim “is therefore a holiday for our time. Around the world, and especially in a Europe that should know better, anti-Semitism has made itself manifest once again. As Esther’s example is celebrated, and Jews gather in synagogue to study her terrifying tale, we are reminded why, in the face of hate, we remain vigilant — and why we continue to joyously celebrate all the same.”

In my weekly letters, I have returned again and again to the topic of heroism and the specific question of what constitutes a true hero. (Click here or here for some examples.) Esther certain qualifies: untrained in diplomacy or in strategic negotiation techniques, she somehow nonetheless found a way to identify her people’s foes’ Achilles’ heels—Haman’s preening megalomania and Achashveirosh’s pathetic need to please—and bravely to use them artfully and cleverly in the defense of her people. And so Purim really is a holiday for our time. We all feel ever more vulnerable in the world than ever as the number of anti-Semitic incidents at home and abroad multiplies, as anti-Semitic tropes creep into public discourse in a way that even a few years ago would have felt unimaginable, and as the world’s eagerness to placate Iran, Israel’s most vicious foe, feels more and more ominous with every passing week. The obvious question is how to respond forcefully effectively. And to that specific question, Purim offers a very good answer: with cunning, with forthrightness, with intelligence rooted in an honest understanding of our enemies’ motives, with selflessness and singlemindedness, and with courage and bravery. And so, because Queen Esther was the embodiment of all of the above, we celebrate her success…even though, at the same time, we take note of just how precarious the security the Jews of old Persia surely felt before Haman came to office truly was. And that vulnerability can serve us well…if we can get over our skittishness in its regard to allow it to guide us an understanding of how things actually are in the world.

Of course, all Americans are feeling vulnerable this week as the coronavirus spreads unchecked throughout thirty-eight of the fifty states and 117 of the world’s countries including every nation in Europe. But is that sense of vulnerability a problem or an asset? Or is it just the right emotion for us all to bring to the table as we prepare to elect a new (or not new) president in November? Indeed, perhaps we should be coming to the New York State primary on April 19 or the general election on November 3 possessed not of our usual American sense of invincibility but rather of a sense of the vulnerability we are all facing…and demanding that those who would be our leaders respond to how things actually are not with bluster, let alone with unfulfillable empty promises, but with the same combination of intelligence, bravery, and chutzpah that Esther brought to the table when she risked everything to prevent a catastrophe of immense proportions from befalling her people.

Since neither major party has actually nominated a candidate for the presidency, the challenge facing the American people is not prematurely to decide who to vote for, but rather thoughtfully to decide what qualities we wish to characterize those who would be our leaders. Starting from a deep sense of our vulnerability, our national and international interconnectedness to other people and peoples, and our deep and abiding sense of our personal responsibility for the welfare of others sounds like the right approach to me! Even if Queen Esther were somehow to come back to life and become a naturalized American citizen, she still would not be eligible to run for the office of President. So we’re going to have to go with someone who embodies her finest qualities, someone possessed of the courage and the cleverness, the altruism and the cunning to lead us out of this mess we find ourselves in. And who will that person be? That, of course, remains to be seen!

#COVID-19 #Purim #vulnerability

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claudia1829things · 6 years

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"HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT" (2004) Review

”HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT” (2004) Review My knowledge of 19th century author, Anthony Trollope, can be described as rather skimpy. In fact, I have never read any of his works. But the 2004 BBC adaptation of his 1869 novel, ”He Knew He Was Right”, caught my interest and I decided to watch the four-part miniseries.

”HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT” told the decline and fall of a wealthy gentleman named Louis Trevelyan (Oliver Dimsdale) and his marriage to the elder daughter of a British Colonial administrator named Sir Marmaduke Rowley (Geoffrey Palmer) during the late 1860s. Louis first met the spirited Emily Rowley (Laura Fraser) during a trip to the fictional Mandarin Islands. Their marriage began on a happy note and managed to produce one son, young Louis. But when Emily’s godfather, the rakish Colonel Osborne (Bill Nighy), began paying consistent visits to her, the house of cards for the Trevelyan marriage began to fall. Doubts about his wife’s fidelity formed clouds in Louis’ mind upon learning about Osborne’s reputation as a ladies’ man. His insistence that Emily put an end to Osborne’s visits, along with her stubborn opposition to his demands and outrage over his lack of trust finally led to a serious break in their marriage. What followed was a minor public scandal over their estrangement, a change of addresses for both husband and wife, Louis’ kidnapping of their son and his final descent into paranoia and madness. The miniseries also featured several subplots. One centered around the forbidden romance between Emily’s younger sister, Nora (Christina Cole), and a young journalist named Hugh Stansbury (Stephen Campbell Moore), who happened to be Louis’ closest friend. Another featured the efforts of Hugh’s wealthy Aunt Jemima Stansbury (Anna Massey) to pair his younger sister Dorothy (Caroline Martin) to a local vicar in Wells named Reverend Gibson (David Tennant). Unfortunately for Aunt Stansbury, her desires for a romance between Dorothy and Reverend Gibson ended with Dorothy’s rejection of him and his lies about her moral character. Later, Dorothy and Aunt Stansbury found themselves at odds over Dorothy’s friendship and burgeoning romance with the nephew of her old love, Brooke Burgess (Matthew Goode). Gibson found himself in hot water with the socially powerful Aunt Stansbury over his lies about Dorothy. But that was nothing in compare to his being the center of a bitter sibling rivalry between two sisters, Arabella and Camilla French (Fenella Woolgar and Claudie Blakley). One last subplot evolved from Nora Rowley’s rejection of a wealthy aristocrat named Mr. Glascock (Raymond Coulthar). While traveling through Italy, he became acquainted with Caroline Spalding (Anna-Louise Plowman), one of two daughters of an American diplomat; and began a romance with her. Most of the subplots from ”HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT” proved to be mildly entertaining or interesting. But the one subplot that really caught my attention featured Reverend Gibson and the French sisters. There were times when I could not even describe this story. I found it hilarious in a slightly twisted and surreal manner. Considering the vicar’s sniveling personality, there were times I felt it served him right to find himself trapped in the rivalry between the sweetly manipulative Arabella and the aggressive Camilla. But when the latter proved to be obsessive and slightly unhinged, I actually found myself rooting for Reverend Gibson to be free of her grasp. In some ways, Camilla proved to be just as mentally disturbed as Louis Treveylan. For me, the best aspect of ”HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT” proved to be the main plot about the Treveylan marriage. I have to give kudos to Andrew Davies for his excellent job in adapting Trollope’s tale. I found the Louis and Emily’s story to be fascinating and well written. When their marriage ended in separation at the end of Episode One, I wondered if Davies had rushed the story. Foolish me. I never realized that the separation would lead toward a slow journey into madness for Louis and one of frustration and resentment for Emily. Her resentment increased tenfold after Louis kidnapped their young son, Little Louis; and upon her discovery that as a woman, she did not have the law on her side on who would be considered as the boy’s legal guardian. For me, the most surprising aspect of ”HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT” was that despite all of the hell Louis forced Emily to endure, I ended up feeling very sorry for him. Due to his own insecurities over Colonel Osborne’s attentions to Emily and her strength of character, Louis ended up enduring a great deal of his own hell. Another aspect I found rather interesting about ”HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT” was the topic of power abuse that permeated the tale. Many film and literary critics have used the Louis Trevelyan character as an argument that the story’s main theme was the abuse of paternal or male power. I heartily agree with that argument. To a certain extent. After all, Louis’ hang-ups regarding Emily’s relationship with Colonel Osborne seemed to be centered around her unwillingness to blindly obey him or his fear that he may not be enough of a man for her. And Sir Marmaduke’s insistence that Nora dismiss the idea of marrying the penniless Hugh Stanbury for a wealthier gentleman – namely Mr. Glascock. But the miniseries also touched upon examples of matriarchy or female abuse of power – something that most critics or fans hardly ever mention. Jemima Stanbury’s position as the Stanburys’ matriarch and only wealthy family member gave her the belief she had the power to rule over the lives of her family. This especially seemed to be the case in her efforts to control Dorothy’s love life. Camilla French struck me as another female who used her position as Reverend French’s fiancée to abuse it – especially in her aggressive attempts to ensure that he would give in to her desires and demands. And when that failed, she used her anger and threats of violence to ensure that her sister Arabella did not win in their rivalry over the spineless vicar. Some would say that Camilla was merely indulging in masculine behavior. I would not agree. For I believe that both men and women – being human beings – are capable of violence. For me, aggression is a human trait and not associated with one particular gender. In the end, both Sir Marmaduke and Aunt Stanbury relented to the desires of their loved ones. Camilla had no choice but to relent to Arabella’s victory in their race to become Reverend Gibson’s wife, thanks to her mother and uncle’s intervention. As for Louis, he continued to believe he was right about Emily and Colonel Osborne . . . at least right before the bitter end. Oliver Dimsdale proved to be the right actor to portray the complex and tragic Louis Trevelyan. He could have easily portrayed Louis as an unsympathetic and one-note figure of patriarchy. Instead, Dimsdale skillfully conveyed all of Louis’ faults and insecurities; and at the same time, left me feeling sympathetic toward the character. Dimsdale’s Louis was not a monster, but a flawed man who believed he could control everything and especially everyone in his life. And this trait proved to be his Achilles heel. But despite my sympathies toward him, I could never accept the righteousness of Louis’ behavior. And the main reason proved to be Laura Fraser’s portrayal of the high-spirited and stubborn Emily Rowley Trevelyan. One could say that Emily should have conceded to her husband’s wishes. As the spouse of a pre-20th century male, one would expect her to. I could point out that she did concede to Louis’ wishes – while protesting along the way. And Fraser not only did a marvelous job with Emily’s strong will and stubbornness, but also anger at Louis’ paternalism. Amazingly, she also effectively portrayed Emily’s continuing love for Louis and doubts over the character’s actions with a great deal of plausibility. This last trait was especially apparent in Emily’s conversations with Hugh Stanbury’s sister, Priscilla, in Episode Two. And both Dimsdale and Fraser created a strong and credible screen chemistry, despite their characters’ flaws, mistakes and conflicts. Another reason I managed to enjoy ”HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT” turned out to be the solid performances by the supporting cast. However, several performances stood out for me. Three came from veteran performers such as Bill Nighy, Anna Massey and Ron Cook. Nighy, ever the chameleon, gave a delicious performance as the mischievous and rakish Colonel Osborne; who proved to be something of a blustering phony in the end. Anna Massey gave a wonderful and entertaining portrayal as the wealthy matriarch of the Stanbury family, Jemima Stanbury. Despite being a tyrannical and no-nonsense woman, Massey’s Aunt Stanbury also proved to be a likeable and vulnerable individual. And Cook did a marvelous job in portraying Mr. Nozzle as more than just a study in one-dimensional seediness. Cook aptly conveyed the private detective’s conflict between his greedy desire for Louis’ business and his sympathy toward Emily’s plight. The second trio of performances that impressed me came from David Tennant, Fenella Woolgar and Claudie Blakley, who portrayed the Reverend Gibson and the French sisters. Tennant, who was two years away from portraying the 10th Doctor Who, gave a hilarious performance as the avaricious vicar with a spine made from gelatin. Both Woolgar and Blakley were equally funny as the two sisters battling for his affections . . . or at least a marriage proposal. Blakley also seemed a tad frightening, as she delved into Camilla’s aggressive and homicidal determination to prevent Mr. Gibson from returning his “affections” to the more mild-tempered and manipulative Arabella. The production values for ”HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT” seemed pretty solid. But I found nothing exceptional about it, except for Mike Eley’s photography and Debbie Wiseman’s haunting score, which seemed appropriate for the Trevelyans’ doomed marriage. However, I do have one major problem with Trollope’s tale . . . and Davies’ script. Quite simply, the story suffered from one too many subplots. Many have counted at least five subplots in ”HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT” and they would be correct. At least three of them – Dorothy’s problems with Reverend Gibson, her conflict with Aunt Stanbury over Brooke Burgess, and Reverend Gibson’s problems with the French sisters – having nothing to do with the main storyline. Despite the fact that I found them either interesting or entertaining, I felt as if they belonged in another novel or series. I realize that Trollope had used these subplots as examples of comparisons to the Trevelyan marriage, but I always have this strange sensation that I am watching a completely different series altogether. I believe that Davies should have realized this before writing his script. Despite my problems with the tale’s numerous subplots, I found ”HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT” to be a first-rate adaptation of Anthony Trollope’s novel. I must admit that all of the plotlines proved to be interesting. And Tom Vaughn’s direction, along with a first-rate cast led by Oliver Dimsdale and Laura Fraser, ”HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT” proved to be a literary adaptation worth watching.

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romana73 · 6 years

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REYLO VS HERCULES

Post written by ME. The animated gifs and pictures shown, however, AREN’T MINE and DON’T BELONG TO ME IN ANY WAY. Sorry for mistakes, but English isn’t my first language

Before going into this post’s subject, I wanted say a my OPINION: I notice these days some has returned to talk about Episode IX as if it should resume from "Star Wars. Episode VII. The Force Awakens" end by canceling "Star Wars. Episode VIII. The Last Jedi", acting as if that movie had never existed: Rey who adjusts Anakin's lightsaber, broken during fight between her and Kylo in throne room, Kylo who adjusts her old mask, which HIMSELF broke in elevator... a few days back to theory "Rey is Luke’s daughter, therefore, a hidden Skywalker, so romantic Reylo can’t be, ‘cause she and Kylo are relatives", thanks also to Kery Russell presence on set, coincidentally, a temporary leak identifies as "Luke’s secret love", in spite of Rey age 19 and Kylo Ren 29 years, make CHRONOLOGICALLY and MATHEMATICALLY IMPOSSIBLE FOR REY BEING DAUGHTER of LUKE and, therefore, a SKYWALKER. My recent post about WHY, in my opinion, Rey ISN’T a Skywalker is here:

https://romana73.tumblr.com/post/182247877011/why-rey-cant-be-a-skywalker-logic-reasoning-post

An advice: you FEEL your SOUL IN PEACE. TLJ EXISTS, it’s part of Star Wars saga. JJ. Abrams, whom I RESPECT, I sure he WON’T CANCEL TLJ and he won’t even pretend it has ever existed. Romantic Reylo and their connection EXIST, JJ Abrams invented them in TFA. Closed this parenthesis, let's go back to this post’s topic. This is third, perhaps fourth post, I write in response to those who argue Rey, good heroine, will never fall in love with Ben/Kylo Ren, ‘cause he’s VILLAN and NEVER allow GOOD heroine fall in love with story’s villain... then you see Hercules, a cartoon movie by Walt Disney in 1997...story is: Zeus son, day Hercules is born, Fates preaches to Hades, God of the Underworld and of the souls, brother of Zeus that, if Hercules will grow and fight, he will be finished. Hades sends his helpers Pain and Panic to make Hercules human so he can kill him. Two kidnap Hercules and take him to Earth, where they start to make him drink portion, but a human couple arrives and Pain and Panic can’t make Hercules drink whole portion, so he becomes human, but endowed with supernatural strength. Meanwhile, Zeus seeks Hercules for all of Creation, when he finds him, however, Hercules has become human and Zeus leaves him on earth, with human couple. Become a teenager, Hercules is kind, sunny and helps everyone. Unfortunately, he can’t control his strength and ends up disasters. Result is Hercules is marginalized by everyone and dubbed "destroyer". One day, after umpteenth disaster, inhabitants hunt Hercules from city. Adoptive parents reveal truth to Hercules and boy goes to Gods temple to question them. In response to his prayer, Zeus statue comes alive and reveals to Hercules he’s his father. Zeus reveals to boy, in order to return to be a God and rise on Olympus, however, he will have to become a REAL HERO on Earth. Zeus gives Pegasus, winged horse to Hercules and sends him to Philoctetes, a satyr, hero coach. At first, Philoctetes refuses to take Hercules as a pupil, but then he lets himself be convinced. Become an adult, one day, in the woods, Hercules meets beautiful Megara and saves her from a centaur who holds her captive. For Hercules it’s love at first sight, but Megara is linked to Hades to whom she sold her soul in order to save her man’s life who, afterwards, betrayed her and abandoned her. As soon as he learns Hercules is alive, Hades begins to plot against him, even using Megara herself...

“I am warning you. You keep that-that-that.. FREAK away from here!”

“FREAK! Yeah, go away!”

(Villagers against Hercules, from 1997 “Hercules” animated movie)

“Son, you shouldn't let those things they said back there get to you”

“But Pop, they're right. I-I AM A FREAK. I try to fit in, I really do. I just can't”

(Amphitryon and Hercules, from 1997 “Hercules” animated movie)

In TFA, in a discussion, Leia Organa and Han Solo, remember to have give their son Ben Solo to Luke, away from home, ‘cause they were frightened by fact "there was too much VADER in him"

In TFA e in TLJ, Rey call Kylo Ren MONSTER:

[...]

“You have that look in your eyes. From the forest. You called me a MONSTER”

“You are a MONSTER”

“Yes, I AM”

(Rey and Ben Solo/Kylo Ren, from "Star Wars. Episode VIII. The Last Jedi" movie)

“Oh mighty Zeus, please, hear me and answer my prayer. I need to know: WHO AM I? WH- WHERE DO I BELONG?“

( Hercules to Zeus, from 1997 “Hercules” animated movie)

“WHO ARE YOU?”

( Luke Skywalker to Rey, from "Star Wars. Episode VIII. The Last Jedi" movie)

“I need someone to show me my place in all of this”

( Rey to Luke Skywalker, from "Star Wars. Episode VIII. The Last Jedi" movie)

“I trained all those would-be heroes. Odysseus, Perseus, Theseus. A lot of "yusses". And every single one of those bums let me down flatter than a discus. None of them could go the distance. And then there was Achilles. Now there was a guy who had it all; the build, the foot-speed. He could jab! He could take a hit! He could keep on comin'! But that forslugginer heel of his! He barely gets nicked there once and kaboom! He's history. Yeah, I had a dream once. I dreamed I would train the greatest hero there ever was. So great the gods would hang a picture of him in the stars for everyone to see. And everyone would say, "That's Phil's boy." That's right... Ah, but dreams are for rookies. A guy can only take so much disappointment”

“But I am different than those other guys, Phil! I can go the distance Come on, I'll show you”

(Philoctetes and Hercules, from 1997 “Hercules” animated movie)

“I will never train another generation of Jedi”

(Luke Skywalker to Rey, from "Star Wars. Episode VIII. The Last Jedi" movie)

“At the height of their powers, they allowed Darth Sidious to rise, create the Empire, and wipe them out. It was a Jedi Master who was responsible for the training and creation of Darth Vader [...] For many years, there was balance, and then I saw... Ben. My nephew with that mighty Skywalker blood. And in my hubris, I thought I could train him; I could pass on my strengths. Han was...Han was about it, but... Leia trusted me with her son. I took him, and a dozen students, and began a training temple. By the time I realized I was no match for the darkness rising in him, it was too late [...] I went to confront him, and he turned on me. He must've thought I was dead. When I came to, the temple was burning. He had vanished with a handful of my students, and slaughtered the rest. Leia blamed Snoke, but... it was me. I failed. Because I was Luke Skywalker. Jedi Master. A legend”

“ [...] And you didn't fail Kylo. Kylo failed you. I won't”

( Luke Skywalker and Rey, from "Star Wars. Episode VIII. The Last Jedi" movie)

“I'm about to rearrange the Cosmos and the one schlemiel who can louse it up is waltzing around in the woods!”

(Hades about Hercules, from 1997 “Hercules” animated movie)

“Skywalker lives! The seed of the Jedi Order lives! As long as he does... hope lives in the galaxy”

(Snoke about Luke, from "Star Wars. Episode VIII. The Last Jedi" movie)

“See, he's gotta have a weakness, because everybody's got a weakness [...]”

(Hades to Megara, about Hercules, from 1997 “Hercules” animated movie)

“[...] A cur's weakness, properly manipulated, can be a sharp tool [...]”

(Snoke to Kylo Ren, from "Star Wars. Episode VIII. The Last Jedi" movie)

In animated movie "Hercules", Ade is called SUPREME and MASTER from Megara. In the Star Wars TFA and TLJ movies, Snoke is FIRST ORDER SUPREME LEADER and Kylo Ren’s MASTER. Only at "Star Wars. Episode VIII. The Last Jedi" end, Kylo Ren becomes the Supreme Leader; In animated movie, Hercules often scoops Megara in his arms. In a touching scene, Hercules BRINGS Megara’s soul in his arms, putting it back into the girl's body:

In "Star Wars. Episode VII. The Force Awakens" movie, Kylo Ren asleep Rey and he SCOOP HER IN HIS ARMS:

#ben solo #hades #hercules #kylo ren #luke skywalker #meg #megara #parallels #rey #reylo #star wars

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veryjanewatson · 2 years

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answered:

@sebastianshaw - a s k e d :

Abatina , Angelica , Hollyhock , Willow !

• a b a t i n a ; is there anything in life your muse has changed their mind about over time ( due to becoming more educated on the topic , certain experiences , etc . ) , or that they would change their mind about under certain circumstances ?

one of mary jane's hardest learned lessons was that no matter how hard someone might dig their feet and claws in, vying for that last desperate action to root down and save face, pride is still a house of cards built on hubris. there will always exist the cruel and indifferent possibility that you'll be drug down to the lowest common denominator by an assembly of peers. the achilles heel in any of it is the place between virtue & vitriol - and it's a dice roll on which end mj falls, because for as much as she can model an exemplary kind of behavior in the face of her adversaries, it’s just as likely she'd break a bottle ready to glass a mother fucker's face. sorry , peter .

• a n g e l i c a ; where does your muse draw inspiration in life ? what motivates them ?

& { the answers were so similar i married them together }

• h o l l y h o c k ; how strong is your muse’s sense of ambition ? what’s something they strive for in life ?

there's a razor's edge that runs right down the blank space between ambition & determination because there is the intrinsic human nature to want to strive to achievement , often to the tune of a sense of betterment whether that comes in the form of thine own self or a callous slap in the face of fair weather company & personal critics but mary jane often finds that she more aligns under the umbrella of determination, and it's a determination to do better than her mother, and her mother's mother, striving to be more than a stereotype or a statistic, inspired by all the piles of broken and dreams her brother left trailing behind her for all of mj’s life . she screams to stand bold toward the public, toward life, in exhibition and defiance of the norm and demand to be considered for all that she is and not what anyone thinks she could or should be .

• w i l l o w ; how does your muse handle sadness & depression ?

She crossed her legs as surreptitiously as she evaded the question on things centered straight against the thinnest and most vulnerable places of her heart—

“ I think before you ask me about any and all manner of personal details, you should at least ask me my drink order. Whisky & rye , since you didn’t.”

Seems as though she can only muster the rawer parts of sincerity for an overgrown s p i d e r .

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noonionsplease · 3 years

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So this is my first year review and i'm posting it for memories but it's long so boom line

I posted 2 375 times in 2021

62 posts created (3%)

2313 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 37.3 posts.

I added 22 tags in 2021

#the owl house - 4 posts

#and 'the french revolution decapitated the rich' seemed like kind of a modern stretch - 2 posts

#you would get decapitated for called someone 'monsieur' because that was the old name for the monarchy - 2 posts

#toh s2 ep10 - 2 posts

#yesterday's lie - 2 posts

#anyway sorry for the giga long notes and i know this isn't the topic but i like explaining things - 2 posts

#hey just coming here to add that - 2 posts

#while it was used to execute everyone that was against the revolution at first - 2 posts

#so yes mostly the rich - 2 posts

#amphibia s1 - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#i'm french and here public colleges are basically free?? like you don't have a huge ass debt at the end??? like i wanna go live in another

My Top Posts in 2021

yo youtube music is desperate now you have a two months free trial... that's kinda sad ppl should think of youtube music more. like not me i already have amazon music but you guys go ahead

6 notes • Posted 2021-07-18 11:42:18 GMT

The Owl House fans all agreeing to call Eda a milf will always be the funniest shit a fandom did.

6 notes • Posted 2021-08-02 23:26:32 GMT

FUCK. THAT'S IT.

I AM WATCHING AMPHIBIA.

8 notes • Posted 2021-10-27 20:00:33 GMT

ok but if Achille's heel was his weak point then why didn't he keep it a secret. Or wear big boots. And did he really dies of an arrow in his ankle? that might hurt a lot but I don't think it can kill you very fast. like yeah with an infection or smth but that takes time. why did the mf die?

13 notes • Posted 2021-07-13 18:48:51 GMT

TOMORROW IS THE NEW EPISODE OF THE OWL HOUSE MID SEASON FINALE AND THEN HIATUS AND I AM NOT READY LIKE PLS IM SCARRED

19 notes • Posted 2021-08-13 19:17:42 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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paranoid-rhythm · 7 years

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Interlude Translation: Caster Gilgamesh Part 1

Warning: Spoilers for those who haven’t finished Babylonia. And Solomon.

Also, I’m using the female avatar, so for convenience’s sake, I named the MC Gudako.

SERIOUSLY, SPOILERS.

TL under the cut.

Mashu: This concludes a quick tour of the Chaldea facility, how did you find it, King Gilgamesh?

CasGil: More than anything, I am surprised. To think that the Human Order is to be saved by this. Both manpower and morale are at their limits. Is this a tournament for endurance?

Uruk was better off than this, even after being attacked by Gugalanna!

Ah, no, that just now was rude of me. I shall drop the topic. Of course, comparing this and that would raise an objection from you.

Roman: As expected, hearing such frank opinion from the King of Ancient Uruk stings. But please understand, we absolutely have no assistance from the outside world.

We have been making do with what Chaldea had in store, for almost a year now. Also… this harsh battle should end with the next singularity. So please try to endure for a little more.

CasGil: I wonder if you truly are okay with that. Even if you defeat the King of Magic, this fight would still continue.

Aside from these people’s lives being in your hands, as the Director, their future after this war is over is also your responsibility. If you cannot handle that, then it’s better to give up the title of being the Director and give it to that Heroic Spirit over there.

Da Vinci: Oh, might you be referring to me? Getting recognized by King Gilgamesh makes me happy.

I’m not trying to salvage him or anything, but I do think he’s doing a great job of being the acting Director. In the first place, Chaldea could’ve ended right when the original Director disappeared.

The one who helped Chaldea to stand back up again was Romani Archiman. Had it been me, I would’ve done it in an extremely flashy way and as a result, a lot of people would leave.

In any case, I understand what King Gilgamesh wants to say. Romani, you’ve been working too much. I’m not joking, but if you don’t take breaks before the last fight, you’ll most probably die of overwork.

Mashu: That is indeed, a serious situation. Should the doctor collapse…

Gudako:

>>Doctors can’t treat themselves after all…

>> We can’t ask Ereshkigal for help this time…

----------------

(1st option)

Roman: Ah, you mean like “Physician, heal thyself”? Don’t worry, I’m not overworking myself. I take a break whenever I feel tired, and the staff even helps me out. There’s no need to worry about me.

----------------

(2nd option)

Mashu: Yes. Since this is Chaldea, if your soul leaves your body, we cannot ask Ereshkigal-san to help us retrieve it…

CasGil: Death from overwork, huh? Such an unpleasant and chilling term. Though it’s not in any way, related to me.

In any case, I advise you to pay caution. And I’m referring to you as well, Romani.

Roman: I’m telling you, I’m fine. I’ll never had any intention to collapse. I properly pace myself after all.

----------------

Roman: But, even getting the Gilgamesh, the King of Uruk worried about me, that’s the scary part.

Could I take this as proof that the King deemed me worthy to talk to?

Gilgamesh: ………………..

Fool. Don’t increase the number of people I deem worthy as you please.

Simply put, you are Chaldea’s Achilles heel. I am simply giving you advice to be aware of yourself.

If you’re such a fool that you cannot even do that one thing, then our talk ends here. I shall help you understand with my own hands!

(CasGil prepares to fire his NP)

Roman: H-hey! Are you serious about firing your Noble Phantasm here?! Even after getting old, you still act immature!

Da Vinci: Now, now, you two, act your ages. Since King Gilgamesh has said this far, why don’t you take the rest of the day off?

Fortunately, there’s no urgent work to be done.

Roman: Sigh… you’re right, then it can’t be helped. Well then, I’ll just check Magi☆Mari’s blog update…

Da Vinci: Hey you, just go straight to sleep!

Roman: Fine, fine, I get it! Well then, I’ll head off to sleep for a while.

CasGil: ……what a hopeless man. Cannot even sleep peacefully.

In any case, I’ve come to understand how Chaldea operates.

I shall take my rest as well. Do not disturb me, mongrel.

Mashu: King Gilgamesh has returned to his room. Thanks for your hard work guiding him around, senpai. Would you like to take a break as well?

Gudako: Dealing with King Gilgamesh sure is tiring.

Mashu: You’re right. Even though he’s like that, the king is a meticulous person after all. Barraging you with questions like “What is that?”, “How does this work?”.

No, rather than questions, it seemed like…

Da Vinci: ….a review, isn’t it? He’s testing just how knowledgeable Gudako is about Chaldea.

Mashu: Yes, that’s how it felt to me. I also felt that the he thoroughly enjoyed the experience as well.

Gudako: And because of that, I’m spent… I’ll just go and take a short nap…

Mashu: Okay, then I shall wake you around dinner time. Have a good rest, senpai.

----------------

Mashu: Senpai, I’m sorry to disturb you during your rest! But the doctor is--… the doctor is--…!!!

Gudako:

>> Don’t tell me he collapsed?

>> Did he die from overwork?

(Same result for both answers)

Mashu: No, it’s just when a staff wanted to ask for confirmation regarding something and went to the doctor’s room, he wasn’t replying. The door was unlocked and the doctor was nowhere to be found…

The doctor is nowhere within Chaldea!

CasGil: You’re late! Just how long were you planning to sleep?! Well, I too awoke just now.

Gudako: Is it alright to disturb you rest?

CasGil: It’s four thousand years too early for you to worry about me! In this time, any time we are not in battle with the King of Magic is considered rest!

Be at ease and just concentrate on the situation in front of your eyes. The job of reading what’s ahead is only for those who has clairvoyance.

Mashu: I’m sorry to interrupt. Then, King Gilgamesh, where is the doctor?!

Da Vinci: Ah, to speed things up, let me be the one to explain. First of all, seven of our staff members are unconscious. Their life doesn’t seem to be in any imminent danger, but no matter what I do, I cannot wake them up.

And… Romani has completely disappeared from Chaldea. Just to be sure, I’ve also searched for him the the tea room*.

(*tea room is written as夜会室 / yakai-shitsu, and its meaning can range from “soiree hall” to “orgy room”...and judging from Gil’s reaction… heh)

CasGil: …what was that? Why have I not been shown that room? Oh well. Do you have any other leads, Da Vinci?

Da Vinci: There are traces that someone used the system to leyshift. The destination is the city of Fuyuki, in the year 2004. In other words, Singularity F.

CasGil: Oh? Strangely enough, that place’s name seems to ring a bell. Fuyuki, Fuyuki. It does not even sound close to Uruk. How unpleasant.

And then? Are those the only things you’ve gathered?

Da Vinci: The ones who fell unconscious are the analytical staff, so we don’t have a firm grasp of the situation yet.

However, if we connect the leads we have now, it would seem that Romani knocked the staff unconscious with something, and then leyshifted somewhere… that’s the only conclusion I can see for now.

Mashu: …is Doctor Roman compatible for leyshifting? I have never confirmed it… no, even if I had…

The doctor is not a person who would do such a thing. Isn’t there any more possibilities as to what happened, Da Vinci-san?

Da Vinci: Well, if you put it that way, there are other possibilities. And it seems that I’m the only other one who can be a suspect. But, I am here right now. And in any case, I have no reason to leyshift into Singularity F.

Chaldea is in an unpredictable situation right now. We have to assume the worst and act accordingly.

Gudako:

>>If only Holmes is here right now…

>>And just when we need him, Holmes is not here…

(Same result for both answers)

CasGil: I don’t care about that detective’s style. Have you forgotten that I am here?!

A mystery of this degree, I shall solve it in one shot! Instantly, I tell you! Instantly!

In any case, I cannot solve this without more clues. It seems like I would have to work to obtain them.

It means that I shall investigate at the scene of the crime. Let’s depart and investigate, Gudako!

Mashu: Y-…yes! I’ll start preparations immediately!

CasGil: No, Mashu, you’re not included. You will stay here. An operator is needed for the leyshift, is it not?

The staff operating are all knocked down, so there must be someone to replace them.

Fortunately, there are half of the staff left.

You should ask them to teach you, like a proper kouhai. This would be of great use to you, in the near future.

Mashu: But… if the master were to leyshift, a guard would be needed-…

CasGil: I’ve already said that I’ll be the one to go. Or are you dissatisfied with this king?

Mashu: Ah-… no! If it’s King Gilgamesh, I have no worries!

CasGil: Well said. In any case, do not resent me for this.

Now, start the leyshift! We’re jumping into the crime scene, Gudako!

Gudako:

>>Roger that, boss!

>>Leave the doctor to me, Mashu!!

----------------

Mashu: Leyshift, successful. There’s an emergency manual, so it’s helpful to me.

Da Vinci: Having data left over from the leyshift into Fuyuki is a blessing in disguise. But, is Roman really in here?

CasGil: Now then, did he go here on his own accord or that’s how it’s made to appear?

What do you think, Gudako?

Gudako:

>>Doctor Roman is not someone who would disappear just like that

>>I don’t think he did it on his own accord

(Same result for both answers)

CasGil: I see. Then if that’s what you say, then it must be true. Hm?

???: …..

CasGil: Concealing your presence yet giving off such bloodlust. How boorish and disrespectful, truly fitting for hell!

Nevertheless, baring your fangs at me is highly ridiculous.

Mongrel, stand back. I shall capture and interrogate this thing...

???: …mission start.

CasGil: Hmph!

(Battle with shadow servant)

*Shadow servant is Jack the Ripper

*SPOILER FOR SOLOMON*

This interlude is titled "The King's Rest" and... as we’ll realize later, Caster Gilgamesh is not the king who takes a rest here...

#Fate Grand Order #Caster Gilgamesh #Gilgamesh #FGO

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