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Summary: Ominis Gaunt has never known affection. He has never known how it felt to love---to be loved. She came and changed all of it.
Or, Ominis gets love because by god does he deserve it.
Warnings: Mentions/Implications of child abuse
God, I loved writing this. Thank you so much for the request, anon!
When Ominis Gaunt fell in love, he fell slowly.
It was all the little things she did—the little things that made up who she was. Her kindness. Her patience. Her touch.
Before meeting her, touch meant nothing but pain. It was kicking and screaming as his mother dragged him along by his arm, harsh shoves from uncaring hands toppling to the ground, a cruel hand curled over his own, taking any control he might have and forcing a curse out of him.
He’d been avoiding it ever since. Even Sebastian and Anne knew his aversion, careful not to grab him or brush against him.
But somehow, she made his walls come tumbling down.
-
Perhaps he started to fall that first time she saved him a seat at breakfast.
It was one of the first breakfasts of their sixth year—the Great Hall was bustling, students running back and forth to catch up with friends and share adventures from over the summer. That was exactly what Sebastian was doing; he could hear his friend’s loud laugh as he spoke to someone at the Hufflepuff table. He’d expected her to be doing the same, her popularity as the Hero of Hogwarts was unmatched. Surely everyone would want to know what she’d been up to.
He’d just settled on the idea of grabbing an apple off the table and leaning against the wall well out of harm’s way when a voice called out to him. Her voice.
“Ominis! Ominis, right here, I’ve saved a seat for you!”
His mouth fell open—just slightly. “You… you saved a seat…?”
“Yes, now get over here before Sebastian barrels past and steals it, I wouldn’t put it past him,” she said, smile obvious in her voice.
And so he obliged.
He settled down on the bench, all thoughts of retreating to some far corner vanishing as she began to rattle on about her summer. In turn, he answered all her questions about his own time, best he could with the way his head was spinning. Of everyone in the school, she had saved a spot for him. She allowed him to take all her time, steal away every morsel of her attention. There was a lightness that came with that thought. A warm feeling he couldn’t quite name—not yet.
But now that he’d felt it, he knew he’d starve for it.
-
The next step into his descent was the first time she placed her hand on his arm.
Herbology was always a bit chaotic—not nearly as much as Potions, no thanks to a certain Gryffindor—but chaotic nonetheless. Professor Garlick had laid out all the necessary tools and supplies on each table, and after her brief explanation on how to prune and shape the plants in front of them, she set them loose.
Sebastian stood to Ominis’s right, grabbing some small cutters and starting on his plant quickly.
“Sebastian, you’re making a mess of it already. She said to start from the top and go down, didn’t you hear a word she just said?” a voice said from his left.
Ominis chuckled. “Since when has Sebastian ever been one to listen to anything?” He reached forward, grabbing his own cutters. He heard his friend grumble under his breath. “Don’t pout, you know I’m right.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not offended by it,” Sebastian said.
“You’re offended by everything, Seb,” she said.
“What is this? Attack Sebastian Sallow Day?”
“No, but I’d be an avid celebrator if there was such a thing.”
As Sebastian continued mumbling complaints, he felt it—her hand, just barely resting on his arm. “Sorry,” she said softly, leaning forward and across the table. “I’m just grabbing the fertilizer.” And then her touch was gone.
It was nothing. Just a simple indication that she was there, making sure a blind man didn’t accidentally stab her with a sharp object. And yet it felt… different, somehow. His skin was tingling as he tried to resume his work with the plant. It was only later he realized that, unlike so many times others had made a similar motion, he hadn’t flinched or pulled away.
In spite of himself, he sort of wished she would do it again.
-
He came to a realization the first time she explained a Quidditch match to him.
The realization was thus—she was even more kind than anyone he’d ever met. It was her very first match, and she had been elated to attend after Professor Black had announced the continuation of the sport at the beginning of the year. Normally, Ominis wouldn’t care too much about it. He rarely went to matches in previous years, only being dragged along by Sebastian when Slytherin was up in the running to take the cup. Crowds weren’t his thing. And trying to understand anything that was going on based solely off the oohing and ahhing of a crowd gave him a headache. But this year, Sebastian was making his debut as Slytherin’s Keeper, and that paired with her excitement to see the match was enough to draw him out to the stands.
They sat next to each other, nestled into the crowd of Slytherins eagerly anticipating the game. He could only imagine how high up they were—there had been plenty of stairs to indicate it was nothing insignificant. The breeze that high up was cooler, and Ominis was grateful for it, allowing himself to focus on it instead of the people pressing in all around him.
But when the match started, his focus shifted entirely to the soft voice next to him.
In the past, he had always found the commentary on the match entirely unhelpful, and even more uninteresting. He could never get a picture of what was going on—the announcer would always press opinions on players and use the names of the different plays, which was ridiculous because Ominis had no clue what any of the plays meant.
She, on the other hand, explained it all wonderfully.
She wasn’t perfect—not even close, stumbling over words and gasping at times when an action surprised her. But for the first time, Ominis could follow. He found himself cheering, breath catching as he heard the whoosh of a broom overhead. The tone and expression in her voice was so lively, so dedicated, he wanted to take part in it.
“Weasley’s flying fast toward the goals,” she commented. “Blimey, he should be Seeker with that speed. Imelda’s flown into his path, he’s going to crash—No, he dodged her, straight over her head—he’s throwing the Quaffle, come on Seb—YES!”
He let out a cry of celebration as his friend beside him whooped and hollered, cheering loudly for Sebastian. It wasn’t long until they won the match, and the crowd of Slytherins roared like a raging sea. He followed her out of the stands and into the common room, where a party was already commencing. Sebastian managed to break away from his adoring fans. The Hero of Hogwarts leapt up and nearly pushed him over in a wild embrace. Sebastian laughed.
“You were wonderful out there!” she said, pulling away.
Ominis could hear the grin in his friend’s voice. “I couldn’t let your first match be a disappointment, now could I?” His feet shifted, turning to Ominis. “And really, Ominis, thank you for coming. I know Quidditch isn’t your favorite.”
“If I’m honest, I rather enjoyed myself,” he said. He nodded his head toward her beside him. “This one has a knack for explaining the game. She told me enough that I can sincerely say, well played.”
“Then seems like you’ll have to go to all of the matches together,” Sebastian said.
Ominis frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t want to impose on—”
“No, I like that idea,” she said. His heart beat a bit faster. “I want you to be able to enjoy it just as much as the rest of us, Ominis.”
He couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night. When Sebastian asked about it, he blamed it on having too much Butterbeer.
-
When he let her lead him by his arm that very first time, he knew he trusted her.
He’d known for a while—but now, through his actions, he had admitted it to her. To himself.
Winter had set in. The two of them left the Three Broomsticks, bundled up and ready for the cold. He reached for his wand, pausing when he heard her speak up beside him.
“Your hand is going to freeze holding it out like that all the way to the castle. I can lead you, if you’d like.”
He pondered it for a moment—only a moment—and then he gave in.
“If you think it’ll keep me from getting frostbite.”
He sucked in a breath as her arm looped around his. How had she done it so gently? After a second, when he’d begun to breathe properly, he nodded. “Off we go, then.”
It was strange, how he had surrendered so easily. When he had first gotten his wand, the world finally felt livable. He no longer had to shuffle around, arms outstretched, waiting for his brothers to jump out at him. He could fend for himself. Prove his independence. There was no longer a need to rely on anyone.
Why did he rely so effortlessly on her?
The truth came to him with a sudden thought as she took him through the streets, navigating expertly through the throng of students returning to the castle. He trusted her. She had always looked out for him. Cared when he felt no one else did. She made efforts to be around him, to involve him, even when he tried to push away. Ominis Gaunt did not trust easily. But she had proved herself worthy of that sentiment in every turn.
The slight tug of her arm in his jolted him back to that moment. “We’re at the stairs,” she said quietly. “There’s six of them.”
He’d trust her with his life.
They seemed to walk closer and closer together as the castle drew nearer. It was the cold, he told himself. Just the instinctual craving for warmth drawing their sides together. Simple as that.
But they still walked arm in arm through the halls of Hogwarts, leaving the excuse of the chill and snow far behind them.
-
The first time she held his hand, he finally felt alive.
Their sixth years had come to a close and the Hogwarts Express was waiting to take them home. They’d spend the last few months in what he considered bliss. They stopped looking for excuses to take each other's arms at some point—just letting it happen. Strolls on the castle ground. Between classes. Anywhere and everywhere they went together. Sebastian teased them a bit at the action, but Ominis claimed it was just easier than using his wand. He didn’t have to concentrate on a spell while walking about. It was true—but really, it hadn’t been inconvenient the five years before that, had it?
But now his dear friend gave a low sigh beside him. “This crowd is awful,” she said, glowering at the students around them. “I don’t know how we’re going to make it on the train in time.”
“I’m sure we’ll be—”
He stopped mid sentence, feeling her fingers interlock with his.
“I think I see a path, come on now.”
She nearly tipped him over as she pulled him along. He managed to remember how to walk just in time to catch himself, allowing her to lead him through the hustle and bustle around them. How did this feel so entirely different than being led by her arm? How could he only focus on how soft the skin of her knuckles felt under his thumb? How could he feel like he was dreaming, but never felt more aware in the same moment?
They stopped in front of the train, doors open before them. She didn’t let go. Neither did he. But the train let out a whistle, and the sound brought him back in an instant. Their hands dropped, and the loss of the intimate feeling of her fingers between his knocked the air out him like the perfect Depulso.
“We made it,” she said softly.
“Barely.”
She laughed. He might as well have been a fish for how much he was struggling to breathe. “I’ll see you soon,” she said, voice softening.
“I wish I could say the same,” he said, smirking. He felt her hit his arm, stifling a laugh.
“You’re awful.”
“You’re the one who laughed.”
“Goodbye, Ominis,” she said, still chuckling. After a moment, she spoke again, a little quieter. “I’ll write you.”
His stomach flipped. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Then she was gone, taking part of him with her.
-
He knew he was in love the moment he got her first letter.
What was it some fool had once said? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? What a load of dung.
Absence made the heart ache so much it nearly killed him. And it had only been a day.
He knew it was from her the moment the lingering scent of her perfume hit him. He smiled. She kept her word—he had never doubted she would. He was just relieved she had done so so soon.
Quickly, he pulled out his wand and transfigured the words on the parchment, running his fingers over them. He paused where she had written his name. Every letter filled him with warmth as he poured over the short letter.
Dear Ominis,
I realize we only saw each other yesterday, but I wanted to assure you it wasn’t an empty promise when I said I would write you.
I really don’t have too much to share—my mother was more than pleased to see me, of course. Wailed when I came home as if I’d come back from the dead. She’s still not used to me being away for so long. I’ve just begun unpacking, and honestly, it just makes me wish I was back at Hogwarts with you and Sebastian.
How are you? I do hope you’re alright. I worry about you going home, you know. I can’t help it. I’ll be inviting both you and Sebastian to my home as soon as I’m settled in—please do survive until then.
Yours,
He closed his eyes as he felt her name beneath his fingertips. She was worried about him. She’d be inviting him. The warmth and elation he felt was so unlike the cold halls that surrounded him. He could survive—he’d do it for her.
How she could make him feel happiness—hope—in a house so tainted with pain was beyond him. He never would he have thought he could have a moment of something good there, a memory worth keeping after he abandoned the place.
Finally, he had a name for that warmth, the one that overtook him every time she crossed his thoughts. Love. Deep, profound, and lasting. It was more than he could have imagined, overwhelming and pure. How could he have lived to this point without it?
He read the letter once more before pulling out his quill and beginning to write.
-
The first time he thought she might feel the same coincided with the first time she laid her head on his shoulder.
She had kept yet another of her promises. It was only a couple of weeks before he was off to her house, finally free from the suffocating marble halls of the manor. His escape lasted only for ten days, but it gave him what he needed to keep going.
Though being with her was definitely what fueled him the most.
Laughing with her and Sebastian made the stress of being around his parents melt off of him much faster than he would have imagined. Their ten days had been full of exploring the woods around her house, of playing Gobstones, of laying in fields and telling old stories.
Ten days of her hand brushing his as they sat together. Ten days of catching his breath when she spoke. Ten days of falling harder than he ever thought possible.
Because now that he knew what it was he was feeling, it was there in everything she did. He was drowning in it, and he’d stay under with a smile on his face.
Sebastian bid them farewell on that final evening. Ominis would be gone back home in the morning—he tried desperately to push that thought away, focusing instead on spending every moment with her he could. They’d wandered to the overgrown park not far from her home, coming to rest on a bench hidden away in the trees. Crickets sang around them, and Ominis basked in the cool summer night by her side.
“Are you going to be ok when you go back?” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.
He gave a small smile, one he hoped was reassuring. “I’ve lived this long. Two more months will be nothing.”
She sighed. “It won’t be a full two months. I’ll make sure of it. If you can’t come here again, we’ll go to Sebastian’s.”
“You worry about me too much.”
“I think I worry just enough,” she stated simply.
Her words made his chest time. How could he ever begin to explain what they meant to him? She cared for him. It was enough to shatter him if he let it. He couldn’t say what he wanted to—not yet. He’d find a way, someday. But he told her what he could by reaching for her hand, locking their fingers together. And when she leaned into his side, head coming to rest on his shoulder, maybe, maybe, that was her way of saying she understood.
His stiff body slowly relaxed against hers, and he thought about nothing but the slow draws of her breath, the way her hair tickled against his jaw, the love he felt for the angel of the girl sitting pressed against him.
-
The first time she held him he fell apart.
Their little trio had stayed up late in celebration of their last school year, playing Exploding Snap well into the night. The Undercroft echoed their joyous sounds as the hours passed by, until Sebastian pulled himself away, saying he wanted to pay a visit to the Restricted Section for old time’s sake. It wasn’t long until she and Ominis were saying their goodnights to each other.
It had been a perfect last first day, exactly what he’d needed after spending so much time at the manor. He’d left for what he was determined to be the last time. There was no better way to celebrate.
He could think of no better way of ending it than saying goodnight to the girl he loved.
“Goodnight,” he said softly, a small smile on his lips.
“God, I missed you,” she breathed. “Goodnight, Ominis.”
But before he could open the door, her arms wrapped around his chest.
The result was immediate. His heart raced, and his throat grew tight. He couldn’t breath—how could he, with her holding him so tightly? Her head was against his chest, and for a split second he was afraid she might pull away when she heard the pound of it. It was that moment of fear that brought his arms around her, holding her to him like he had nothing left.
It felt like dying when she pulled away from him. She sucked in a breath. “Ominis, are you alright?”
“What… what do you—”
“You’re crying.”
She was right. He felt the tears, now, traitorously running down his face. He quickly brought up the sleeve of his robe to wipe them away.
“Is it something I did? I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”
“No,” he said quickly. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He took a shuddering breath. “I just… You’re the first person who’s ever…”
Ever what? There were a million ways he could finish that sentence, and all would be true. The first who had ever held me. The first who has ever cared so deeply. The first to touch him with nothing but kindness. She was the first person to break down his walls, to give him life, to let him love and be loved.
Somehow, she seemed to understand his silence. She took him into her arms once more, and he let himself come crashing down. Sobs worked their way through—both sadness and joy mingled together in an utter mess of emotion. How could he have gone his whole life without this? Without feeling safe, without outstretched arms to run to? But he had found it. A person he could call his home, who would hold him when he fell apart. He was grateful. So grateful.
They never went back up to their dorms that night.
-
He was determined today would be the first time he kissed her.
Since that night in the Undercroft, every touch between them felt natural. Part of their beings. He came to her effortlessly, letting his arms pull her to him. His hand felt foreign when it wasn’t in hers. But yet, he had yet to confess the depths of his feelings for her.
He knew exactly why—she was patient. They’d started this whole thing nearly two years ago now. She’d always gone at his pace, waiting for him to be ready for each new step. They didn’t need to say the words. It was obvious to both of them. But Merlin, he wanted to.
She needed to know just how much she meant to him. The joy she brought into his life without even trying. It had been a long time coming, but now, he was ready.
He’d taken her out to Hogsmeade. It was the perfect spring day—cool breeze carrying the scent of Butterbeer clear out of the Three Broomsticks. The sun was just beginning to set, and they were on course to return to the castle when he stopped her.
“Could I take you somewhere?” he said softly.
“Of course,” she said, a little perplexed. He smiled, taking out his wand to guide the both of them, other hand still in hers. He led them down a path, then turned sharply into the woods. The trail he followed was light barely there, mostly grown over by foliage. But he heard the sound of the creek and knew he was close.
The trees gave way into a small opening, the melody of water trickling just beyond it. He smiled.
“It’s lovely,” she said.
“Good. I hoped it would be.” His wand returned to his pocket, and he took both her hands, facing her.
It was her turn for her breath to catch. It was only fair after all the times he’d done so because of her. Did he look as lovesick as he felt?
“You are everything to me, do you know that?” he said softly. His hand reached up, following the curve of her neck up to her jaw, where it came to rest. “Everything.”
“Ominis…”
The way she breathed his name sent shivers through him. And her breath on his lips—Merlin, how had he waited so long?
“I love you.”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond—he’d let her say it soon enough. But he needed to prove himself to her, show her just what he meant when he said everything. His lips came crashing down against hers, and at that moment he decided every second not spent kissing her was a second wasted. Like everything about her, she was gentle. She was warm. She was soft. Like everything about her, he couldn’t get enough. He thought he’d give her a chaste kiss, but he was only a man, and a starving one at that.
He only pulled away when his lungs felt like they would burst, and his chest heaved under her resting hand.
“I love you,” she said, voice hoarse. “God, I love you.”
He decided that night would be the second time he kissed her, too.
I am still around....ish.
I have just had a rather horrible 2 months.
(explanation, might be rather long)
When I moved in to live with my friend for the spring semester, things were relatively easy because it was just the two of us. Her parents were mostly not ever home because one works out of state most of the spring time and the other would travel back and forth between when the one parent was and another area for their own work.
However, I tried to take a summer minimester, where they would compact 4 months of information down into 1 month. I knew that I was going to have to work my ASS off, but I was ready to do that. I would be taking human anatomy and physics I at the same time, which both have a HUGE amount of work they both need.
Until, I realized that her parents would be back home during that month. Already, that made staying there are little awkward now as these are people I was not really comfortable with. With my social anxiety and awkwardness with authority....it made things strange already.
Then, about 2 weeks in, I got covid. At this time, it was too late to drop the two courses. I was COMPLETELY out for a week, in a home that I felt like a bother in with two adults that I didn't really know and made me feel like a burden. And on top of that, my friend/roommate was told to stay with her grandmother during the whole time I was sick because she is immunocompromised.
My depression got BAD, I couldn't even think straight for most of that time MUCH LESS study. I literally was allowed to go back to class A DAY before the 2nd of our 3 practicals took place.
Well, I ended up failing that one horribly. The Anatomy class had each practical counting 30% of our final grade and all other assignments making up the other 10%. That meant I was in trouble.
Then for physics, I missed a LOT of the homework, since we had hours of work due everyday and I missed a whole week out of 4 weeks. That left me failing that as well.
-----
All in all, for me, it felt like I wasted my time and money as well as mental health all for nothing.
I am getting better...slowly. I am back home now and have been for a few days as I slowly am getting back into working at a pace that doesn't leave me wishing for death (joke)
I am so sorry to everyone I disappeared on and I am /hoping/ that I will be able to take on more things soon.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
You ever go (looks at the clock. Has to do math to figure out what 9am to 4pm is)
7 HOURS?!?!?! Holy fuck
Well, you ever go 7 hours straight doing homework because you took double the amount of adderal you normal take so that you can get only 2 (yes only fucking 2) assignments for your physics class done and you still have another 3 to go?
I have a rather....shameless request.
I am pushing myself rather hard to do a 4 month Physics course and 4 month human anatomy course in one month...
So would it be possible to ask for a Viktor head-cannon thing where the reader comes to him to ask for his physics expertise. Dealing with the reader getting very frustrated but yet never quitting (*cough* as in taking breaks *cough*)
Thank you!
I really hope things go well for you, friend! School is hard and really kicks us in the ass sometimes, but I believe in you! Take care of yourself when you're able to - and know that we all wish you the very best!
---
Viktor x Reader
-We all know that Viktor is hard on himself. Pushing himself past his limits, staying up late even though he’s exhausted and can barely see straight. It’s a miracle this man didn’t keel over sooner than he did.
-The thing is, he knows his actions are detrimental to his health, both physical and mental. He knows that resting would benefit him. He just…doesn’t really care. He’s of the mind that his worth as a person is inherently tied to what he can do for and give to other people.
-Until he met you.
-He was drawn to your brilliance and ingenuity the moment you spoke out in your shared class. Your hardworking nature, and drive to learn - your thirst for knowledge, and desire to do things well.
-It only made sense that the two of you would end up together. Going from classmates, to partners, to friends, to partners. You always encourage each other in your respective fields of study, helping each other where you can, quizzing each other extensively before every test.
-But lately, he’s noticed that you’ve been…busy.
-Though, busy might be a grand understatement.
-You’ve been absolutely swamped, is what you’ve been. Nearly drowning in schoolwork, up to your neck in papers and assignments and projects and lectures and presentations and studying, on top of that still needing to take care of yourself and get enough rest.
-You’ve even had to call in a rain check on the rare date night that the two of you had planned, in lieu of working.
-He understands, of course. He’d gone through the same physics class last year, with the workload condensed into just a couple of months in the hopes that he might be able to squeeze in an extra class.
-It had nearly eaten him alive. He might have actually thrown in the towel and called it quits, had it not been for you. Always there, finding time in your own schedule to help him out and listen to his ranting.
-He’d been so grateful back then. But now, seeing you struggle with the exact same things he did? It…worries him.
-He knows how it had felt, being entirely devoid of energy, constantly on the verge of passing out or throwing up, maybe both. The back aches from sitting for long periods of time, the neck tension and headaches, the words on the page blurring together after however many hours of reading.
-Not to mention all the emotions he’d gone through, ranging from despair, to anger, to guilt and grief and self hatred. Hopelessness. He knows that you’ve got to be feeling some kind of way right about now. And he…doesn’t know how to help.
-It had felt different, when he was the one going through it. He had wanted to push through it all and keep going, despite the strain it put on him. He had to learn, had to pass his classes and make something of himself. What good would he be, otherwise?
-But now it’s you. Wonderful, incredible, beautiful, brilliant you. He wants nothing more than to take care of you, and then some, because you deserve the world. And…he worries that you might be pushing yourself too hard.
-Or maybe he’s the one worrying too much.
-Even when you storm into the lab one evening, late enough that even Jayce has turned in for the night, he worries.
-You’re obviously frustrated, your entire body strung tight, your jaw so clenched he wonders if you might crack your teeth. You’ve got the heaviest looking bookbag slung over your shoulder, weighing you down so you stand crooked, and in your arms are even more ridiculously thick textbooks.
-Some of which he recognizes.
- “I wasn’t expecting you tonight,” he greets you, turning away from the notes he’d been copying down into his journal. “I thought for sure you’d be…studying…? Is everything alright?”
-He watches as you make your way over to the empty desk he and Jayce had set up nearby, for such occasions as you popping in to do some last minute studying.
-You drop your books onto the surface, letting your bag slide off your arm and hit the floor with a dull thunk. Then, you nearly throw the chair out from beneath the desk, and sit down so hard he worries you might have actually hurt yourself.
- “No, Viktor, everything is not alright!” you finally reply, muttering to yourself as you start rooting through one of the pockets of your bag, pulling out a disheveled notebook and a pencil.
- “I have seven assignments due in less than three days, and I’m barely halfway through all of them! I’ve got four tests coming up, a final exam, plus whatever bullship pop quiz my professor decides to spring on us last minute! My head feels like it’s about to crack in half, my eyes have been burning for the entire week, and I haven’t slept in two days!”
-And yet, despite all this, you put your pencil to your paper and begin writing.
-He watches for a couple seconds, before standing quietly and making his way over to you.
- “When was the last time you ate?” he asks softly, wincing slightly when your gaze snaps to him from the corner of your bloodshot eyes. Ah, he thinks. So your frustration and exhaustion is coming out in impatience tonight.
-He’s no stranger to such a thing.
- “I just want to know what I should get for you,” he clarifies. “I’m not going to stop you from studying - but I am going to do some of the smaller things that you probably can’t be bothered to do right now. Like eating.”
-Your gaze softens marginally, and your eyes flick back to your work.
- “I had a piece of toast this morning,” you tell him quietly. “It’s the only thing boring enough that would stay down. And ginger ale.”
-He nods to himself. He can do that.
-Twenty minutes later, he’s setting a plate beside you on the desk, away from where you might bump it with your elbow, along with the coldest carbonated beverage he could get his hands on so late at night.
- “Alright,” he says, while you grab a slice of the food he’d made. “Would you mind if I went over what you’ve got on your assignments so far?”
-You narrow your eyes at him.
- “It might help if you get a fresh pair of eyes on your work,” he assures you. “And I’ve been through the same classes that you have, remember? I might be able to offer some pointers.”
-You droop slightly, but nudge your bag towards him anyways, remaining focused on the paper in front of you.
-He gets about halfway through all of what you’ve written so far, leaving little sticky notes on things he thinks could use clarification or rephrasing, as well as little compliments to hopefully balance things out.
-He gets about halfway through, before the sound of your quiet sniffling stops him.
- “Are you-” he begins, but you cut him off.
- “Ignore it,” you nearly plead, wiping hastily at your eyes. “This has happened multiple times this week already - I don’t need coddling. I can work just fine.”
-He fiddles with the corners of the papers in his hands, watching silently as your eyes continuously well up with tears, only to be swiped away seconds before falling down your cheeks. Again and again, as if they’ll never stop.
-Until he can’t take it anymore.
-He reaches forward, wrapping his fingers gently around your upper arm, to momentarily draw your attention away from your work. You resist for a few moments, frowning slightly, but eventually his persistence pays off.
- “We’re going to get through this,” he tells you firmly. “You’re going to finish what you’re working on, and then we’re going to turn in for the night.”
-You open your mouth to protest, but he’s very quick to shush you. “And then,” he continues, “Once you’ve slept a little bit, I’m going to help you with your assignments. No, I’m not going to do them for you - you don’t have to worry about that. But I will be helping you with the structure and wording, and once you’ve got the final product scribbled out, I’m going to help you type them out: that’s menial work, and you don’t need to be worrying about it.”
-You stare at him for a couple seconds, frowning and looking frazzled and confused.
- “Why aren’t you telling me to quit?” you ask, sharper than intended. “I’m just going to be taking up your time - you could be doing better things. There are so many reasons you could be telling me to give up!”
-He trails his fingers down your arm, to your hand, which he tenderly pulls towards his face so he can press a kiss to the inside of your wrist.
- “Because you’re brilliant,” he says, laying his cheek into the curve of your palm. “And you’re capable. Strong. Thoughtful. I admire everything about you, from your stubbornness, to your sense of humour, to your tenacity.”
- “And,” he lowers his voice, “I think that even the best of us require help sometimes. Even when we don’t want it.”
- “And sometimes,” he sighs, “We don’t even have the option. Some of us don’t have help. But I had you, even when I was too stubborn to quit, even when I was probably hurting myself. You knew that I wouldn’t give up, so instead, you did what you could to ease the burden on my mind.”
-He turns his head slightly and presses a final kiss to the palm of your hand. “And I know you’re the same. I won’t ask you to quit, because I know it will only upset you. So let me help you in another way I’m able to. Please?”
-He looks at you, with wide, pleading, beautiful eyes, and you can’t help the way your heart melts and warms. Tentatively, you agree.
-It will be a rough month, he thinks, turning his attention back to the papers in his lap. But maybe it will be a little less difficult if you’ve got each other. And afterwards, the two of you can celebrate by taking the nap of the century - perhaps he might even go out on a limb and book a reservation to that fancy garden restaurant you were interested in.
Truly, thank you. I will be keeping this open on my computer as I keep working.
....literally worked on 1 physics assignment from 7pm-5am and it still isn't complete and I have about 2 assignments due per day...so how you wrote the reader as having break downs and continuing to work is very much what i've been doing...
This was perfect. Truly.
Thank you <3
The Likeness Of Men And Cats [Oneshot]
Pairing: Viktor x Reader
Rating: T
Proofread: no beta we die like men
Synopsis: You acquire a cat for the first time, and make a startling connection between it and your best friend, Viktor. Of course, you now have to test your theory: is the man you're crushing on actually several cats in a trenchcoat?
You’ve worked with Viktor for years. Six years, in fact, if you started all the way back in your first year at the academy.
You hadn’t had much interest in him, then. He was just another face in the crowded classroom, just another hand that got raised whenever your professors asked a question. He was smart, sure, but no more than some of the other people in your peer group.
Only once you’d been assigned to a group project did you really start getting to know him - and his less than stellar reputation around campus.
Your friends had all given you their condolences when you’d told them who you’d be working with for the semester, each of them sprouting off some story or another about an interaction they’d had with this Viktor.
And the more you got to know him, the more you realized their stories were true.
He was blunt, and logical to a fault. He refused to take breaks, for either his or your sake - even when you’d been about to pass out from sleep deprivation, he’d merely sighed and told you to sleep, then, if you need it. He frustrated you to no end.
And the more you got to know him, the more you realized your friends’ tales were…wrong.
You had hardly wanted bad blood between you and the man you were supposed to be working with for the whole semester, so you’d stuck it out. You’d been friendly, made yourself approachable, listened to him when he spoke and tried to include him in conversations.
And eventually he opened up.
Shared little jokes with you, brought little snacks to your study sessions so you wouldn’t go hungry. He showed a profound sense of compassion, the deeper your chats got, and a truly spectacular desire to change the world for the better.
It only made sense that you’d fall in love with him. Stupidly, terribly in love.
Even now, years after you’d graduated and moved onto your own projects, you still got heart palpitations whenever you spent time with him. Which happened to be most days, what with your work coinciding so closely. You’re certain that one of these days, the persistent thrum in your chest is simply going to stop, and you’re going to perish.
All because of him, and his stupid handsome face, and his stupid beautiful brain.
And it’s not like you hadn’t tried to tell him how you felt! You’re not the kind of person to just stand there stewing in your feelings for years without trying to resolve them!
He was just…not interested. You dropped hint after hint after hint, suggesting you spend time together to catch up, or maybe go out to lunch, or even dinner. You’d flirted with him so openly that even Jayce was cringing from your efforts!
But he never reciprocated.
Jayce had tried to comfort you one evening, after a particularly rough afternoon of thirsting after your best friend. He probably just doesn’t realize you’re trying to uhh…woo him, he’d said, in a vain attempt at calming your roiling emotions.
Didn’t realize. Right.
You’d been heartbroken for so long after being rejected by Viktor, lost in thought and unable to effectively work. Making excuse after excuse as to why you were ‘out of sorts’ and ‘not feeling well’.
That is…until now.
Three weeks ago, you’d…come into the possession of a soft, fuzzy creature. Or she’d come into possession of you?
Either way, you’d found a cat. Skinny, mottled black and white, covered in fleas - she’d woken you up in the middle of a fateful night, screaming haplessly from your balcony where she’d gotten stuck. The moment you opened the sliding door, she’d run inside and had since refused to leave.
It had been hectic in the first couple days, particularly when you were trying to get her into the bath to remove all the built up dirt and dust from her fur. But you’d gotten her settled eventually, and since then she’s become a staple in your everyday routine.
It had taken you a while to really notice the patterns in her behavior, and to connect the dots.
Your cat behaved an awful lot like Viktor.
Rather, Viktor behaved an awful lot like a cat.
Bringing you little gifts for no apparent reason, typically in the form of snacks or trinkets. Preferring to sit in the same place as you and work separately, as opposed to actively engaging in conversation. Only showing you his softer side once he knew he could trust you. Even the few times he touched you, he did so in the most unusual way you’d ever seen - running a hand down your arm, or your back.
Not unlike a cat brushing up against its companion.
Looking back, knowing what you know now, you feel…stupid. For disregarding the man you loved so easily, for not clueing into his way of expressing love.
Because of course he loved you!
…probably.
Maybe.
…you need to test your theory.
—
The next day is when you begin Phase One of your plan.
You spent the entire night working on a detailed month-long set of experiments, subtle enough that Viktor wouldn’t think your actions were too weird or out of the blue. In the event that you were wrong in your hypothesis, you would be able to chalk your behaviour up to…
…to…
…wanting to switch things up a bit?
So, truthfully, you hadn’t really thought much about it at all. You’d actually fallen asleep with your face smashed into your desk around ten in the evening, and by the time your alarm had started blaring, you had to scramble to make sense of what little you’d scribbled down.
“Good afternoon, my brilliant men of science!” you cheer, skipping into the lab in your typical loud fashion, your arms full with a large cardboard box that had steam wafting from between its creases.
Viktor hums a quiet greeting from across the room, barely paying you any mind as he continues to focus on his current project.
Jayce, on the other hand, looks over the moment you set foot in the room, making a beeline towards you when he sees you struggling with your parcel.
“What’s in the box?” he wonders, watching over your shoulder as you set it out on one of the free desks, and begin to unfold the flaps.
“Lunch!” you reply, finally revealing a bunch of smaller boxes packed tightly within. “I know you two don’t always have time to run out to grab something to eat, so I thought I’d do it for you. It’s important to keep your energy up when you’re using your brains so much.”
Jayce wastes no time in helping you unpack everything you’d brought, opening up each little package to discover the treasures that lay inside. It’s mostly foods that you know Viktor likes - a couple of baked goods, some potato dumplings, a thermos of root stew, some little swirly breads.
In no time, he’s fixed himself a plate and gone back to his own workplace, leaving you to stand alone by the feast.
Looking at Viktor.
Who was looking at you.
Looking at you with the most suspicion you’ve ever seen him wear, with his eyes narrowed in thought and his shoulders held tight and square.
“Why?” he asks, glancing between you and the food.
“What do you mean, why?”
His brows pull together slightly, adding to the absolute absurdity of his expression.
“What’s the catch?” he reiterates, finally rising from his seat to slink towards you. “You never bring us lunch. Ever. What’s the occasion?”
You shrug nonchalantly.
“Why would I need a reason to be nice?” you ask. You supposed you could just tell him what you were up to - you doubt he’d be upset with you if you did. He’d probably just be curious about your theory.
The only issue was that if he knew, it might skew your data. If he knew what you were looking for, he might try to react in a way that he thought you’d like - or in a way that would purposefully fuck with you.
No, it would be better if you didn’t tell him. At least not yet.
“V, I’m all for asking questions, but please stop trying to dissect a good thing?” Jayce pleads from the other side of the room, casting over his best impression of a kicked puppy.
You’re pretty sure he knows what you’re up to.
Viktor, in any case, appears to be momentarily placated by your explanation, poor as it was. You know that he’s going to wonder about it eventually, but for now you’ve got time. You’ve got time to sit and eat lunch with your two best friends, and hopefully think up some better excuses.
—
You continue bringing the two of them lunch for the next week. Jayce remains completely unbothered by the situation, and even offers to help once you tell him what your master plan is.
He knows how down bad you are for your friend, and you’re certain that he’s fully sick of listening to you lament about how pretty he is and how badly your heart aches.
Viktor hasn’t mentioned anything since the first day of your new routine, either, but you can tell he’s just as suspicious as he was at the start. His gaze is always sharp when you clatter into the room with another box of food, watching intently while you unpack, remaining trained on you while he makes his way over to hesitantly scoop some up for himself.
Almost like he’s waiting for some kind of reaction out of you.
But you give him nothing, no hints as to what your plan is. You wait patiently while he fixes himself a plate, asking him how his day has been or perhaps about what he’s working on, smiling softly all the while.
It’s exactly one week to the day when you burst into the lab again, followed closely by your loud and raucous announcement of your presence, only to be met with silence.
“I’m afraid Jayce isn’t here today,” Viktor sighs from behind a stack of notebooks, not even bothering to turn his attention away from the formulas he’s copying down.
You, however, are undeterred, continuing your trail into the room, over to your usual table where you are about to begin Phase Two of testing your theory.
“I know,” you reply, setting your things down. “He said he had a thing with Mel today - and a busy week, too.”
You can see from the corner of your eye as your friend finally turns away from his work.
“You knew he wouldn’t be here?” he wonders, utterly perplexed. When you hum your confirmation, he continues, “Then why did you bother coming?”
That alone is enough to give you pause, glancing towards him in confusion.
“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask.
You stare at each other for a couple of seconds, before he shrugs and makes a noncommittal grumble, turning back to his papers.
He…thought you wouldn’t come? If it was just him, he thought…you wouldn’t even bother showing up. As if he wasn’t your best friend, and the love of your life, and the brightest part of your day? Like he couldn’t possibly be the reason for your kindness?
Your heart clenches.
In silence, you fix him a plate of the little foods you know he’ll like; you’d gone out of your way to pick out a couple of his favourites today, having suspected that he might be difficult to persuade without Jayce nearby to bully him into eating.
“Here,” you tell him, softly, setting the plate on the desk beside him. You set your hand on his shoulder for a brief moment, letting your fingertips wander down his arm, and then turn away to head back to your own work.
Knowing Viktor, he’d prefer the silence over active conversation. It was easier for him when the other half of HexTech was around to act as a buffer and keep your endless desire to talk entertained. But today, when it’s just the two of you? You know you’ve overstepped your bounds in the past, pushing him into a state of discomfort with your constant chattering.
But not today.
Today, you’ve brought your own work with you, fully intent on sitting quietly with your best friend while you both eat your meals. You had the entire hour to catch up on grading your students’ tests - grades they’d been hassling you about for a while now.
It’s a little bit uncomfortable at first, to not talk while you know he’s nearby. There are things from your day that you want to share with him - something funny that one of your first-years said to you, the gossip you’ve heard about other faculty members.
But you resist.
Viktor, on the other hand, only makes it about ten minutes.
All at once, the incessant scribbling of his pen stops, followed by a deep sigh, and the quiet clatter of the utensil being set down. A creak in his chair, as he turns towards you.
“Have I done something to offend you?” he inquires, bluntly, as usual.
You glance up from your pile of papers with wide eyes, surprised by the suddenness of his question.
“No?” you reply, “Why would you think that?”
He sighs again, his gaze wandering away from yours and down to the floor. He looks hesitant, the same sort of hesitant that he’d been when taking the food you offered to him: like he was waiting for something to happen.
Like he was waiting for you to…to announce that you were playing some kind of absurd prank-
Oh.
“You’ve hardly said a word to me today,” he mumbles, crossing his arms on the back of his chair so he can rest his head between them.
“But…you like the quiet?” you reply, far more meek than you’d intended to be. Had he been taking your entire experiment as some kind of mean joke on him? Had he already known that he was reminiscent of a cat? Did he think you were making fun of him for it?
“Yes!” he retorts quickly, running a hand through his already-mussed hair. “But you’re always talking! To me, to Jayce - about your students, or some shitty scholarly article you read! You’ve been acting strange for the entire week. First the food, and now this - are you okay? Are you-”
“Viktor, breathe!” you squeak.
The moment you see the worry in his eyes, you jump to your feet and make your way over to him. Taking his face in your heads, despite your better judgment or regard to the rules of your plan. Stroking your thumbs slowly over the curve of his cheeks, holding him close while he forced himself to relax and slow his breathing.
You’ve never seen him so outwardly worried about you.
“Look,” you murmur, “I just…I care about you. A lot. And I feel like sometimes I…do a pretty shitty job of showing it.”
Slowly, you let your hands slide down to rest atop his shoulders.
“I’m always after you to take better care of yourself, but I never actually do anything to help. And - and I always push conversations on you, even though I know you’d rather work on your own projects.”
With a dejected sigh, you remove your hands from him completely, “Even now. My first instinct when trying to comfort you is to touch you, even though I know you don’t really like it.”
Idly, you fiddle with the edges of your sleeves.
“I just want to make you happy, but…I know I can be annoying, sometimes. I’m sorry.”
The air is thick between the two of you after that. You can’t for the life of you figure out what else you should say, if anything - you can’t even bring yourself to look him in the eye. Instead, you turn on your heel and wobble back to your seat, trying your hardest to keep the hot sting of tears from reaching your eyes.
You feel like an idiot.
Your entire plan was stupid, and your theory was stupid, and wanting to test it? Stupid!
So caught up in your own thoughts, you don’t even notice the sound of a chair being dragged across the room, over to where you sit. Only when Viktor shoves it right up beside you and plops down nearly in your lap do you jostle out of your own head.
Staring up at him with wide eyes.
“You think you’re annoying?” he asks, nearly incredulous. “I never have anything to contribute to your conversations - never have any stories or adventures of my own to share. You have to carry all our interactions! And you…think you’re annoying?”
You scoff softly. “I mean, most of my other colleagues tolerate me, and only barely. Do you know how many break room conversations I’ve accidentally overheard about me?”
He grumbles a bit, letting his head roll sideways to carefully knock against the curve of your shoulder.
“This isn’t about them,” he insists. “You’re not annoying. I enjoy listening to you talk - you always have interesting perspectives on subjects that I rarely consider.”
He tilts his face up, then, staring up at you from mere inches away with a sort of intensity that makes your cheeks nearly catch fire.
“And I also like it when you remind me to take a break. You know how I am about keeping track of time - if there isn’t an alarm, I’ll sit and work until I pass out.”
Slowly, oh so slowly, you lean towards him. Gently, tenderly, with an affection that makes your chest ache - you bonk your forehead against his, the barest of touches, but the most intimate you’ve ever been with him.
And all at once, his face lights up into a bright, rosy hue.
Much like how you had connected the dots a week ago, all the pieces fall into place in his mind. One by one, clicking together to form an entire beautiful picture: a story of your friendship, finally understanding.
“You…” he begins, trailing off as he tilts his head up by a fraction, drawing you into a kiss you’ve both been waiting years for.
i put way too much research into this, so pls comment and reblog
this is likely the beginning of a new series i have dubbed “cryptid!viktor”
part one of said series is my vampire!viktor oneshot, which is linked HERE
you find the merman on a tuesday.
distracted by the sounds of a struggle, you leave your tiny room with all your notes aboard the ship and make your way above deck. only to stop and gawk at the sight before you.
he’s tangled in a net, thrashing about in a vain attempt to escape. the sailors are poking and prodding with harpoons as you rush forward and shove your way through them. they aren’t malicious. merely curious.
but that didn’t change the fact that they were injuring the poor creature.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader
Chapter Rating: T
Story Tags: Regency AU|Slow Burn|Arranged Marriage (affectionate)|Strangers to Friends to Lovers|Angst/Comfort
Proofread: No lol
Taglist: @trfanglophile @fairy-writes @feeiry
Chapter Summary: Now in your new home, you begin to start planning how to improve all manners of the estate. You don’t see your new husband very much, but the one time you do? Well, it’s…eventful.
GAHHHHHH
Fuck! I nearly screamed when I saw that this was uploaded. This was so fast and I am feeling so blessed from this.
I am in love with this version of the reader. Where she knows that there are trials and she has her times to feel sad, but she has that hardworking attitude where she isn't going to let this hold her down and just *chefs kiss* I love this so much.
The young maid was so cute <3 And I love the idea that Viktor is trying to be sweet in his own awkward way.
And that he openly admitted to the staff that he chose her for her cleverness? OMG! I want scenes of the two getting closer of his inventions and just the two being so shy and flirting and him just falling more in love at how smart she is.
And then the work on the house? I am so excited to see how much she is able to get done and how beautiful she makes it!
Then to finally have the two speak, like a full conversation?!? I adore them! He is so awkward, yet when the reader defended his honor and made it clear that the staff couldn't talk to him the way they were?
I wish we could know what he was thinking in that moment. Did he get embarrassed about a staff member embarrassing him even more in front of his wife? Did he find himself swooning at how she stood by him as his partner, demanding he be spoken too with respect?
AHHHH, I want to know!!!
I seriously can't wait till the next update and thank you again for tagging me! This was amazing!
Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader
Chapter Rating: T
Story Tags: Regency AU|Slow Burn|Arranged Marriage (affectionate)|Strangers to Friends to Lovers|Angst/Comfort
Proofread: No
Taglist: @trfanglophile @fairy-writes
Chapter Summary: You meet your husband for the first time. On your wedding day. And he’s…not what you expected.
Number 1, arranged marriages are my OBESSESSION.
So the moment you spoke of this, plus it being a regency AU? I nearly spit my tea out at how amazing of an idea this would be. Taking someone awkward and shy like Viktor, but is so good at hiding it that he appears aloof and curt? It was amazing from the start!
I love the detail you put into Viktor being so nervous during his wedding. It making me wonder if he had expected to marry some basic looking woman, someone he could easily ignore...only see her walk down the aisle and just be smitten.
"Oh no, she's hot!"
I completely get why he would deny her to dance when they aren't comfortable with each other yet. He doesn't know if she will ridicule him or not. But that just being something they can get closer with later. The term that caught my attention so perfectly and so heartbreakingly was how he said that he was 'not much use' when it came to dancing. Like the main reason he won't dance with her is his own shame, knowing she won't be able to truly dance with him because of his body.
I love/hate the idea of after the parents passing, with Viktor needing to take care of the property. Him being a disaster when it came to make decisions on something he had never been trained to know how to do. With men tending to have businesses and many outside the house obligations, it was common for the woman of the house to become almost the manager of the estate.
Which meant, women taught other women how to do that role. Viktor was probably floundering, not knowing what on earth to do when asked questions like what type of fertilizer the gardens should have.
I am seriously excited to see how she makes the place come back to life, getting the garden back to it's former glory.
And then the ending? Imagine him having fallen asleep in his study or going to his own room...him not even aware that she had dressed special for him?
DAMN IT! I love this so much, seriously, so fucking much!
Why Kids Aren't Falling in Love With Reading - It's Not Just Screens
A shrinking number of kids are reading widely and voraciously for fun.
The ubiquity and allure of screens surely play a large part in this—most American children have smartphones by the age of 11—as does learning loss during the pandemic. But this isn’t the whole story. A survey just before the pandemic by the National Assessment of Educational Progress showed that the percentages of 9- and 13-year-olds who said they read daily for fun had dropped by double digits since 1984. I recently spoke with educators and librarians about this trend, and they gave many explanations, but one of the most compelling—and depressing—is rooted in how our education system teaches kids to relate to books.
What I remember most about reading in childhood was falling in love with characters and stories; I adored Judy Blume’s Margaret and Beverly Cleary’s Ralph S. Mouse. In New York, where I was in public elementary school in the early ’80s, we did have state assessments that tested reading level and comprehension, but the focus was on reading as many books as possible and engaging emotionally with them as a way to develop the requisite skills. Now the focus on reading analytically seems to be squashing that organic enjoyment. Critical reading is an important skill, especially for a generation bombarded with information, much of it unreliable or deceptive. But this hyperfocus on analysis comes at a steep price: The love of books and storytelling is being lost.
This disregard for story starts as early as elementary school. Take this requirement from the third-grade English-language-arts Common Core standard, used widely across the U.S.: “Determine the meaning of words and phrases as they are used in a text, distinguishing literal from nonliteral language.” There is a fun, easy way to introduce this concept: reading Peggy Parish’s classic, Amelia Bedelia, in which the eponymous maid follows commands such as “Draw the drapes when the sun comes in” by drawing a picture of the curtains. But here’s how one educator experienced in writing Common Core–aligned curricula proposes this be taught: First, teachers introduce the concepts of nonliteral and figurative language. Then, kids read a single paragraph from Amelia Bedelia and answer written questions.
For anyone who knows children, this is the opposite of engaging: The best way to present an abstract idea to kids is by hooking them on a story. “Nonliteral language” becomes a whole lot more interesting and comprehensible, especially to an 8-year-old, when they’ve gotten to laugh at Amelia’s antics first. The process of meeting a character and following them through a series of conflicts is the fun part of reading. Jumping into a paragraph in the middle of a book is about as appealing for most kids as cleaning their room.
But as several educators explained to me, the advent of accountability laws and policies, starting with No Child Left Behind in 2001, and accompanying high-stakes assessments based on standards, be they Common Core or similar state alternatives, has put enormous pressure on instructors to teach to these tests at the expense of best practices. Jennifer LaGarde, who has more than 20 years of experience as a public-school teacher and librarian, described how one such practice—the class read-aloud—invariably resulted in kids asking her for comparable titles. But read-alouds are now imperiled by the need to make sure that kids have mastered all the standards that await them in evaluation, an even more daunting task since the start of the pandemic. “There’s a whole generation of kids who associate reading with assessment now,” LaGarde said.
By middle school, not only is there even less time for activities such as class read-alouds, but instruction also continues to center heavily on passage analysis, said LaGarde, who taught that age group. A friend recently told me that her child’s middle-school teacher had introduced To Kill a Mockingbird to the class, explaining that they would read it over a number of months—and might not have time to finish it. “How can they not get to the end of To Kill a Mockingbird?” she wondered. I’m right there with her. You can’t teach kids to love reading if you don’t even prioritize making it to a book’s end. The reward comes from the emotional payoff of the story’s climax; kids miss out on this essential feeling if they don’t reach Atticus Finch’s powerful defense of Tom Robinson in the courtroom or never get to solve the mystery of Boo Radley.
... Young people should experience the intrinsic pleasure of taking a narrative journey, making an emotional connection with a character (including ones different from themselves), and wondering what will happen next—then finding out. This is the spell that reading casts. And, like with any magician’s trick, picking a story apart and learning how it’s done before you have experienced its wonder risks destroying the magic.
-- article by katherine marsh, the atlantic (12 foot link, no paywall)
I would also like to note that we do the same when it comes to teaching languages.
NEVER as children are we taught our native tongue but shoving grammar, vocab, and sentence structure all at the same time. As well as the extremely fast pace that we expect people to memorize vocab words?
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