#HOWEVER! i will be home entirely alone in September for like two weeks or more so I'll be able to enjoy it properly then | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wiypt-writes · 4 years

Text

Barking Up The Wrong Tree

Ransom Drysdale One Shot

Summary: It’s the Annual Pre-Easter meal at the Thrombey’s and Ransom and you are in attendance. As usual, there’s fireworks, a lot of swearing and there’s only one way you know he can get rid of his frustrations…

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s!

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this was originally written last year for @jennmurawski13 who requested a smutty one shot with an Evans character of my choice for her birthday. It was coined from a Brainstorming sesh me and @icanfeelastormbrewing had for our intended Ransom x OFC series (we might get round to it in 2022…so by then you’ll have forgotten if we use it again.) FYI Eighteen year old Ransom is totally Bryce from Fierce People, you can’t convince me otherwise… I also very much now see this being the same Reader as in mine, @ohthankevans13 and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork’s Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale series.

Your brown leather, knee high Saint Laurent boots (a gift from the man whose lap you were curled up on) were on the floor by your feet leaving you in your grey, woollen over-knee socks. One of your boyfriend’s large hands was resting on your left shin, the other just at the top of your right thigh, almost on your ass cheek. You were well aware your black sweater dress was riding up so went to shift and shimmy it down a little, conscious that you were, after all, sat in the large drawing room at his grandfather’s house whilst the rest of his family milled around as the pre-Easter dinner, which always took place the weekend before the actual holiday, was being prepared.

“You okay?” Ransom looked up at you, noticing you shift on his lap and you smiled.

“Yeah, just don’t want to flash everyone too much if you get my drift.”

Ransom cocked an eyebrow at you, then peeked around the room, before he gave a snort as his eyes fell on his cousin Jacob who was watching the pair of you.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want Adolf junior getting a boner now would we?”

You gave a chuckle as you re-arranged your dress, making yourself more comfortable.

“He’s just a kid, Ran.” You soothed.

“He’s a deviant, Princess.” He replied, his voice quiet.

“So were you when I first met you.” You grinned, looking at him as you bent closer to whisper into his ear “Still are when the mood takes you.”

Ransom pulled back to look at you, his face inches from yours, his eyebrow raising slightly as that dirty smirk spread across his handsome face. “Stop it.” He warned, and you shrugged innocently, as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth.

“Come on son, put her down.” Richard’s voice rang across the room and instantly you felt Ransom’s entire demeanour change. Gone was the relaxed, jokey, happy Ran you knew and loved and in his place was Hugh Ransom Drysdale, asshole extraordinaire.

“Piss off, Father.” He shot back, his head moving back from yours, fixing his dad with a steely glare.

“Hey.” Richard glowered “Don’t speak to me like that…” he turned to Linda. “Did you hear that Linda?”

“Ransom…” Linda said lazily, not looking up from her phone. “Don’t speak to your father like that.”

Ransom rolled his eyes and you gently looked at him, shaking your head, silently telling him to stay calm. It was always the same with the Thrombey family gatherings. Ransom despised them for the simple fact that Harlan was the only one he had any time for, bar his mother on a good day, and you were inclined to feel the same way. It always ended in chaos, each individual nuclear sects within the extended family trying to get one up on the other, prove they were the best players in the game.

Frankly, they made the fucking Lannisters look normal.

All your friends were constantly asking you how you managed to stay tangled in this web of dysfunction, but the answer was right in front of you, his crystal blue eyes now narrowed as he shot a sarcastic reply back to his mother.

The simple truth was, you loved him and couldn’t walk away if you tried.

It hadn’t always been that way, mind. When your High School had been asked to submit nominations for the coveted position of Harlan Thrombey’s Summer research assistant, you’d been short listed along with 15 other candidates from the New England area. Each of you were asked to produce a five-thousand word thesis on a literary subject of your choice to be submitted for reading by Harlan. You’d been ecstatic when you received the call from his Publishing Company to say you’d made the final three and were requested to attend an interview.

You’d been and bought a new suit. Nothing fancy but decent enough quality. You made sure your hair was tamed, your make up was as on point as you could get it, and had driven the thirty minutes or so out to his mansion from the home you shared with your Nanna in Brookline, following the directions on your GPS to the area near Pierce Park where the Thrombey Mansion was located. You were greeted by his housekeeper and shown into the large office where the man himself was waiting. Harlan was nothing like you had expected him to be. He was eccentric, sure, but also dmaned good fun. He’d asked you a few questions about why you wanted the position “I’m going to major in English at college and I hope to work in publishing when I graduate, this would be an invaluable experience.” He had then discussed your paper with you and after a few more general questions he had reduced you almost to tears of laughter by telling you a about an incident when he had been at college and was almost caught climbing down the trellis of his girlfriend’s parent’s house following a late night rendezvous of the very naughty kind “Don’t think too badly of me, we ended up married for forty-seven years…”

Then, just as he was showing you out of his study a tall, well-built young man, your age you had correctly guessed, with a strong jaw, dark hair flicked to the left side of his forehead, and a pair of the bluest eyes you had ever seen, waltzed down the hallway. He was dressed in a pair of riding breeches, a polo shirt and wore a long pair of tan leather riding boots.

"Ransom?” Harlan looked at the young man “I wasn’t expecting you till this afternoon.”

“Yeah well, the fucking horse I should have been riding is lame.” Ransom shrugged “Which means I can’t ride, and I probably can’t compete this weekend.”

“Dressage?” you had asked, your mouth speaking well before your brain had engaged, for some reason thinking it was a good idea to comment. Ransom had looked at you with disdain, scanned you up and down and cocked his head to one side, his eyes cold as they locked onto yours.

“Polo.” He had answered, a sneer on his face “Do I look like a dressage rider to you? Mind you, from the state of your cheap high-street dress the nearest you’ve probably ever been to a horse is those shitty little trail rides they run at kids parties.”

“Ransom!” Harlan had snapped sternly “Enough!”

You felt the heat rise in your neck and cheeks, and you drew yourself up to your full height, folding your arms as you looked at the ass hole stood in front of you. One thing your Nanna had told you was that, despite your humble origins, you were as worthy as the next person, no matter how much money, status or self-importance they may have.

“My apologies. I always thought polo was played by arrogant, snobby, stuck up pricks.” You retorted as you made a show of looking him up and down in the same way he had done to you. “Actually, on second thoughts, I should have guessed.”

As soon as the words were out of your mind you let out an internal groan. Way to go, flush your chance of landing this summer internship down the fucking toilet by insulting Harlan’s grandson. Nevertheless, you held the gaze of the man in front of you who stared back, his expression and face utterly stoic bar the blink of surprise his eyes made.

You heard Harlan chuckle behind you and the old man dropped a hand to your shoulder. “Fran, could you see Miss Y/L/N to the door.”

Two days later Harlan had personally called you to offer you the position, and it had turned out to be everything you ever wanted, and more. Three weeks into your internship, to your utter surprise, Harlan confessed that he had been looking to fund a worthy, local candidate through college and as the successful applicant it was yours for the taking. Some strings had been pulled, and in the last week of September thanks to his generosity you started your English Major at Harvard.

And so did Ransom.

He pursued you with a dogged determination, seemingly viewing your indifference towards him and his advances as some kind of challenge. You weren’t fooling yourself, however. He was devastatingly handsome and your traitorous vagina and that part of your brain that controlled your libido harboured a deep desire to fuck his brains out, a desire you finally gave into at the end of your first year when, following your final exam, you got drunk and woke up the morning after in his bed.

It wasn’t all puppies and roses though. You were on and off more than his boxer shorts, as simply put, Ransom was a player. And it didn’t bother you to start with. He was a hook up, a way to relieve tension when you needed to, and he was a very handy person to know with his seemingly endless network of connections. But by the time you graduated you knew you were head over heels for him, and needed to break this seeming cycle of being in and out of his bed. So you turned down Harlan’s offer of a job at Blood Like Wine and were ready to move away from Boston after landing a job at a publishers in Manhattan…but then your nanna had been taken seriously ill and suffered a stroke meaning you had to stay.

As a result of her illness, your nanna was unable to live in your house in Brookline alone and so you were forced to sell it so she could afford to move into a supervised Retirement Village a five minute or so drive away. You were now jobless, drowning with the house-sale which would leave you homeless, and your emotions and been all over the place. You had no other family since your Grandfather had died at the start of your senior year so had no one to turn to.

Enter Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

You’d called him one evening, drunk and emotional and needing a release and he came over alright, but instead of fucking you into the mattress he made sure you drank water, ate something, and then got you into bed. The next morning, Harlan had shown up, telling you the job offer at his company was still open, and then to your utter surprise and initial horror he had offered to buy your nanna’s house, meaning you could remain there as a tenant. At first you had refused, insisting you weren’t a charity case but Harlan had simply waved your concerns away by insisting it was an investment. After a little discussion he agreed to allow you to pay rent which, all things considered, was a pittance in comparison to what other properties the same size in that area commanded but it was a rent nonetheless and made you feel better.

And you knew all of it had ben Ransom’s idea.

This was the side to Ransom he very rarely displayed to anyone. A softer side, a caring side, a gentle side. A side that held you as you cried at the thought that your nanna was growing old and may soon leave you behind, a side that made you a sandwich when you hadn’t eaten in days, a side that helped you pack up and move your Nana’s stuff to her new home, a side that turned up at 9pm with several tubs of ice cream and a bottle of wine after you’d messaged him earlier that afternoon to tell him what a shit day you were having when his Uncle Walt was being a dick at work.

The rest, they say is history. History which meant you were now curled up in his lap some eight or so years post that initial meeting in the hallway of this very house, listening to him bicker with his family, feeling his leg beginning to shake in that way it always did when he was agitated.

“Ran…” you said gently, squeezing his arm and you felt him take a deep breath and he looked at you, his mouth closing as you shook your head “Don’t.”

He turned away, looking to the other side of the room and his face glowered as he spotted Jacob once more had his eyes trained on your bare thigh. God the pubescent creep did his fucking head in, and if he stayed here he was going to end up putting the lanky streak of shit through the wall.

“Can we go?” Ransom looked at you, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“We’ve not even had dinner yet.”

“Please.”

That single word was enough to make you understand. It was a word he hadn’t learned until he’d met you, when he realised that his demands and arrogance got him nowhere with you. He still rarely used it mind, but when he did, you knew he was in desperate need of what he’d asked for.

“How about we take a walk?” You suggested “If you still wanna go after then we will”

He took a deep breath as he considered what you had said. Compromise was another word that hadn’t been in his vocabulary until you. His eyes locked onto yours and you looked at him, encouragingly and he took a deep breath, nodding.

“Okay.”

You uncurled yourself from his lap and stood up, him following so you could sit down and place you boots on.

“Are you leaving?” Linda asked, looking up for the first time.

“For a walk.” Ransom said simply, grabbing your hand and pretty much dragging you from the room. He didn’t say a word as he reached the coat stand and retrieved your lightweight Ted Baker belted mac, holding it out for you to slip your arms into, in a display of chivalry he reserved only for you. Once you’d done it up, he took your hand in his and you headed through the kitchen and outside into the reasonably mild April afternoon.

“Don’t let them get to you.” You said softly, leaning into him a little and he sighed, untangling his fingers from yours so he could drop his arm round your shoulders. He hated the fact his family could make him feel like this, like he wasn’t in control, like he was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He could quite happily go without seeing any of them, well, bar maybe his grandfather, but you had told him he would regret it if he pushed them away completely because you had always wished you’d had a large family unit like that. So, despite the fact he knew deep down that was a load of bullshit, he played the game. He attended the damned gatherings more for your benefit than any as you adored Harlan and seemed to get on fairly well with Joni, Meg and his mother. He hung onto a glimmer of hope that maybe one day it would all change and he’d feel part of it.

But it never did. And he never did.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence across the Mansion grounds, round the lake where Ransom stopped by the small pier, looking out over the water.

“You know my most vivid childhood memories are of this spot.” He mused, his gaze focussed over the lake “Grammy used to bring me down here to feed the ducks.”

“It’s beautiful down here.” You agreed, snuggling further under his arm. “Peaceful.”

“Yeah unlike that fucking house.”

You gave a chuckle, as his hand curled over your shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing over the smooth material of your coat. He was agitated, you could tell, and there were very few ways in which he could calm down when he was like this. One was riding his beloved BB- a polo horse Harlan had bought him for his 21st, one was the pair of you curling up on the sofa with snacks and a good scotch or bourbon, getting drunk and watching Trashy Films, in particular horrors-you both loved to pick plot holes and insult the main characters, declaring the victim a dumb bitch for running up the stairs and not out of the door and the other, well…

You glanced around, checking you were alone before you pulled away from him, taking his hand and tugging on it slightly.

“What?” he asked looking down.

“Come on.” You gave his hand another pull.

“Y/N?” he questioned again, but followed nonetheless despite you not answering. You tugged him away from the lake, into the thin thicket of trees a little further round. You could still see the house here but you knew there was no way anyone from up there could see you.

“Seriously, Y/N what the fuck?” he groaned, as he stepped in the slightly squelchy mud “You’re gonna ruin my Gucci’s…” “Should have worn something a little more substantial then shouldn’t you?”

“I didn’t know you were planning on going fucking hiking in the fucking woods.”

“That’s not what we’re doing.” You said, stopping in front of a large oak tree, looking up at him.

“Then what are we doing? Reconnecting with Mother Nature? Or are we on the hunt for Oberon, Titania and Puck?”

“Ooh, good Shakespeare reference.” You grinned at him and he rolled his eyes as you slid your hand up over his navy blue lightweight Barbour jacket which was done up to his sternum, leaving his plain white, Armani t-shirt slightly visible at the neckline. “Does that make us Lysander and Hermia?”

“You got a hidden suitor called Demetrius I don’t know about?” he arched an eyebrow, his hands falling to your hips.

“Nope, I’m all yours Tiger.”

The sound of your ridiculous nickname for him drew a large smile across his face and he shook his head, giving a genuine chuckle. Here, with you there were no annoying voices to listen to, no family politics, nothing to care about but the gentle brush of the wind as it blew through the canopy of trees above your heads and the faint sounds of birds as they went about their business and Ransom felt a sense of comfort. Because you were his rock. The one person that saw through his bull shit, the woman in his life that knew all his horrible personality traits as well as his slightly less horrible ones and loved him all the same. The girl that had rounded off his harsher edges no matter how much he protested to the contrary.

You were his better half for sure.

“Well that’s good, because I don’t like sharing.” Ransom smirked, dipping his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“Don’t I know it.” You mused against his mouth. His fingers flexed on your sides, pulling you closer to him as he slid his tongue across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly, allowing him control over the kiss, knowing that’s what he craved when he was like this. His lips were soft on yours, tongue domineering as he kissed you deeply, slowly. Eventually he pulled back, his nose bumping yours slightly as he gave a little chuckle.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from those shit heads in the house.” He said, his tone playful and you loved playful Ransom. Another side to him only you really got to see.

“Is it working?” You played along.

“Yeah.” He nodded, his lips pressing to yours again.

“Good. Now why don’t you let your inner deviant come out to play?”

“You don’t need to ask me twice, Princess.” The words were barely out of his mouth before he had pressed you into the harsh, earthy bark of the tree behind you, kissing you hard again, groaning as you palmed his crotch through his designer denims. He grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head before he did the same with the other one, easily holding both in place above you with one large hand, his other softly tracing up the outside of your thigh, fingers skating under your skirt.

“Is this why you wore this?” he smirked, toying with the material slightly. “So you could tempt me away for a fuck in the woods?”

It wasn’t, it was because it looked and felt good, but you decided to play along “Maybe. Was it a good choice?”

“Damned right it was…” he growled against your mouth, his long, soft fingers sliding your lace panties to the side. His index finger traced a path up your slit and you gasped at the feeling as he gently began to toy with you. Soft, teasing touches, his eyes never once leaving yours. That was one of his things, he liked to see your face, watch as your expressions changed as he undid you, fuelling his ego. Your hips gently started to move in time to his strokes as he played you, like an instrument from which he could always draw a tune. And in no time at all, he was listening to the music as you let out a soft keen, a purr almost as your head fell back against the tree, your mouth parting slightly.

“Like that?” he asked, and it was all you could do to nod, panting brokenly as the familiar feeing began to rise in the pit of your stomach, the fire growing hotter and hotter. “God you’re a fucking minx. Come on, cum on my fingers, you know you want to.” And you did, hard, your knees trembling, as you let out a loud cry of his name as the lights exploded in front of your eyes. Ransom pressed into you, his erection evident as it dug into your stomach, keeping you pinned between him and the tree as he coaxed you through your orgasm, before he moved his hands, allowing yours to drop to his shoulders as you held onto him tightly.

The clanging of a belt buckle, then the zipping of trousers and the rustling of fabric broke through the post-orgasm haze as Ransom undid his flies, reaching into pull out his painfully hard cock. He gently pushed forward, sliding the tip against your folds, gathering your slick as you gave a moan, the feeling of him sliding against your clit sent lances of red, hot desire through your veins.

His hands gripped the back of your thighs as he pulled you off the ground and you hooked them round his slim waist, ankles locking at the base of his spine. In a swift, fluid moment, no teasing, no gentle ease, he buried himself inside you with a deep thrust making you cry out as he filled you. His lips crashed onto yours as he drew back, then thrust back in hard, his cock dragging against your walls inside, hitting that spot that he knew would leave you seeing stars.

Yes, if there was one thing on this Earth Ransom knew he was good at, it was fucking you.

His lips traced a path from your mouth to your jawline, then to your neck, biting and sucking at any bit he could get to, his hips moving back and forth in a slow but deep pace which was torture, and you needed more.

“Ran, harder…” You groaned, digging your heels into his ass and he gave a dirty moan of his own as his hands held your hips.

“You’re such a needy little slut.” He smirked against your lips, not waiting for your reply as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping back and forth with a vigour that was merciless as he pistoned in and out of you again and again. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as you kissed him, teeth clashing together as your back repeatedly brushed against the harsh, rough surface behind you as you clawed desperately at the material of his jacket.

It wasn’t long before you felt another orgasm brewing and your head fell forward, teeth nipping at his ear drawing a growl from his throat. Your hands moved into his hair and you pulled sharply back causing him to hiss and look up you.

“Fuck, Y/N….” he groaned, the pupils of his eyes blown wide with a desire you would never tire of seeing. You pushed your hips down against him causing him to drive deeper and you let out an almost primal cry, the noise you made simply revving him up even more, his rapid movements growing even more urgent.

“Fuck Ran…” you moaned as your head rolled back against the tree, hands back on his shoulders, as once more that snake in your belly moved. Ransom felt the tell-tale flutter of your heat tightening round him and he continued his voracious pace, his eyes locked onto yours.

“You feel so fucking good…” he panted “So fuckin’ good Princess...”

His words made you moan again, and he pushed up once more, stilling slightly, grinding up against you as opposed to thrusting and a few rolls of his hips later you were done. The world faded around you as you came hard, with a loud scream before your head dropped to his shoulder, as you moaned his name, again and again whilst he pounded through your orgasm chasing his own.

“Shit, Y/N…I’m…fuck…” his words tumbled into your hair as his movements became desperate and he came a short while later with a loud yell. You felt him fill you up, as his hips stilled and he groaned, face buried into your neck, his chest heaving, sweat beaded both his brow and yours as he simply pressed into you, panting and shaking.

Neither of you had any idea how long you stayed like that, but eventually Ransom managed to gain enough control to pull his softening cock out of you and set you gently on your feet as he brushed the tendrils of your hair that had fallen over your face back with a tenderness he reserved only for you. He said nothing, simply looked at you, his lips gently greeting yours in a soft, loving kiss, a stark contrast to the violent ones you had shared moments before. You smiled at him, unadulterated love in your eyes as you moved your hands to brush his hair back before you leaned up and kissed him again, your nose sliding against his.

“I adore you Hugh Ransom Drysdale. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Don’t fucking call me Hugh.” He grumbled and you chuckled as he pulled you to him, nuzzling into your hair as he sighed. “But for the record, the feeling is mutual Y/F/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N.”

You gave a laugh and were about to reply when you felt his head snap up, and his entire body tense and he let out an angry cry causing you to jump.

“Jesus Fucking Christ! The perverted little shit!”

“Ran?” You saw his face contorted in anger as he pushed back from you, striding away from the tree, rearranging his jeans as he went before he broke into a sprint. You watched him go and then, to your horror, saw the retreating back of a smaller male running away from the thicket of trees on the curve of the bank to your left and you felt yourself grow cold.

Jacob.

How long he had been there Ransom had no idea but he chased the little fucker all the way to the house, yelling insults and threats as he burst into the kitchen. Ransom finally caught up with him just as he ran into the hall and grabbed the kid by the collar, spinning him round and pinning him to the wall, arm crossed over his windpipe. “Enjoy the show did we?!” He yelled, the noise drawing the rest of the family out from the sitting room into the tiled hallway. Walt started to shout angry threats about what he was going to do to Ransom if he didn’t take his hands off his son, which then sparked Richard to bite back at Walt saying if he touched Ransom he’d give him a damned good hiding. If Ransom hadn’t been so focussed on the dirt little bastard he had pinned to the wall he would have laughed because the idea of his dad fighting anyone was hilarious, he couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.

“Give me your phone.” Ransom demanded.

“I didn’t…” “GIVE ME YOUR PHONE NOW YOU PERVERTED PRICK!” Ransom yelled, and reached into Jacob’s pocket, grabbing his hand where it was curled around the offending item, bending the boy’s fingers back. Jacob gave a yell, pulled his hand out of his trouser pocket and Ransom seized the phone, yanking it out, just as you walked into the hallway.

He looked at you, then to Jacob and saw you pale as the realisation washed over you that you’d not only been seen but recorded or snapped, by a twelve year old boy nonetheless.

“Unlock it.” Ransom demanded, thrusting it back at him.

“Now listen here…” Walt started until Harlan turned to him.

“Walt, shut up.” He barked, turning to Jacob “Unlock the phone, now Jake.”

Jacob sullenly took the phone from Ransom and did has he was told, Ransom snatching it back. He glanced down at the screen, flicking to the Gallery and let out an angry noise as he saw not only footage of you both in the woods but ten or so photos of your bare thigh and close ups where he had attempted to see up your skirt when you had been on his knee before. Thankfully from the snaps there wasn’t really anything visible, but still the fact he had even taken them in the first place made Ransom apoplectic with rage.

“You dirty little prick.” he mumbled, looking back up at him. Jacob visibly recoiled under Ransom’s glare.

“Ran?” You questioned as you gently touched his arm and he tilted the phone so you could see the screen and your eyes widened, your entire body growing warm as you saw the close up of your thigh on the screen.

“How the fuck dare you?” You exploded, glaring at Jacob.

“Can you explain what he has supposedly done?” Donna, Jacob’s mother spoke for the first time and you turned to face her, your pretty features contorted in rage.

“He’s…” You shook your head “Taken photos of me, before up my skirt.”

Noise erupted in the hallway, Joni and Meg screaming about you being violated, Richard and Linda yelling at Walt and Donna whilst Harlan shook his head, making a noise of disgust. Ransom ignored them all as he selected the photos and images, deleting them, and showing it to you.

“Gone, Princess.” He turned the screen off before he leaned over and kissed your temple.

“Look, he’s a teenage boy…” Donna was protesting “He’s a bit curious…”

“He’s a dirty bastard.” Richard snorted and the irony wasn’t lost on Ransom as he’d seen his father eyeing you up on more than one occasion. He looked at his dad, eyebrow raised as Jacob bit back at the dig.

“I’m a dirty bastard?” The pre-teen snapped, his eyes flicking from Richard to Ransom “I’m not the one that was having sex against a tree!”

Everyone paused and their heads turned to you and Ransom. You gave a groan, your hands sliding up to your face to hide your utter embarrassment, but besides you Ransom’s expression never changed because, well frankly, he couldn’t give two shits about everyone knowing what you had been up to.

“I’m a grown ass man.” He snarled “If I wanna fuck my girl outside on private property I will”

He held Jacob’s phone out to him, but as Jacob went to take it Ransom opened his hand, dropped it to the floor with a loud “oops” and stomped on it, the metal and glass crunching under the heel of his expensive, leather boots.

There was more yelling, and Ransom simply turned, taking your hand in his. “We’re leaving.”

This time you didn’t argue. The pair of you walked away, ignoring the screaming which grew fainter as you headed down towards the large front doors, only to hear Harlan calling after you. Ransom stopped, took a deep breath and tuned to face his grandfather.

“Y/N are you ok?”

“Of course she’s not.” Ransom snapped but you gently squeezed his hand, shaking his head.

“I’m okay Harlan, thank you. But I think its best we go before Ransom commits murder.”

“Well, I can assure you I’m not far off killing the little turd myself.” Harlan shook his head, sighing. He then took a deep breath, looked at Ransom, and there was a flash of something which you knew only too well to be amusement in his eyes. “Which tree?”

Ransom frowned “What?”

“I asked which tree you two were doing the naughty against.”

You groaned as Ransom blinked and then shrugged “Just in the thicket to the south side of the lake, near the little jetty. Why?”

“Well, instead of barking up the wrong tree so to speak, next time stick to the North side.” Harlan grinned cheekily “It’s in the dip and no chance you can be spotted by anyone unless they’re a foot or so away.”

Ransom’s mouth curled up into a smirk as he looked at his grandfather then to you.

Meanwhile you simply wanted the ground to open up and swallow you.

Harlan bid the two of you goodbye as you headed out to Ransom’s Beemer. He stopped just besides it, turning to you, his hands falling to your hips again. “Well, I don’t know about you, Sweetheart, but all that excitement has made me a bit hungry. Seeing as we’re not getting dinner here, how about I take you to Asta?”

Your face lit up at the mention of your favourite restaurant and you gave an eager nod before you frowned “Aren’t we a little underdressed? And it’s Saturday evening, we’ll never get in.”

“Baby girl, enough money can get us in anywhere, and you look fine.” He said, dropping a kiss to your lips before he grinned “You might wanna brush the twigs outta your hair though.”

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

518 notes · View notes

merrumeru · 3 years

Text

You're driving me crazy when you are coming home, part 1

Pairing : Damon Albarn x Reader 90s!

Words : 4k

TW: toxic relationship, cheating, swear words, mention of sex

Note : I just want to make it clear that glorifying a toxic relationship is not my goal. These types of relationships are very harmful. The presented story is a purely fictional situation. However, if you ever find yourself in such a relationship, please think about what's best FOR YOU. Nobody has the right to criticize, frighten and manipulate you emotionally, especially not the person who "loves" you. Take care xoxo

Part 2

september 1994

I turned the key in the lock. When I entered the apartment, I expected it to be dark, after all, it must have been much after 11 pm. I used to come home early, but today the restaurant where I work had a lot of guests. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the light coming from the living room. The first thought that came to my mind is, of course, a break-in. However, two seconds was enough for me to realize that it was something much worse. In silence, I took off my shoes and coat and put my purse on the shelf next to the door.

„You could at least take your shoes off. I cleaned the apartment this morning.” My gaze lingered on a pair of soiled vans, which soles rested on the coffee table. A mixture of anger and fatigue was sprouting somewhere inside me.

„Y/N, I didn't hear you come in” he put down one of my women's magazine which he was reading or pretending to read.

„Unfortunately, I knew it was you as soon as I entered. Why are you here?” My question evidently amused him, as his goofy, stupid smile appeared on his face.Even though he knew I didn't want to play his games, he took his time to answer. As usual, he didn't take me seriously.

„I thought my girlfriend would be more pleased to see me” He leaned forward slightly, looking straight into my eyes. „You look pretty”.

„Fuck off Damon” My gaze drifted from his eyes to some point on the carpet. I didn't know what I wanted to say. Maybe it was the fatigue. Or maybe the helplessness that was removing the ground from under my feet again. The silence was unbearable, and even the lazy ticking of the clock from the kitchen could not disturb the hopelessness. „Just go out. I don't feel like talking to you.”

He didn't even move. My words made no impression on him. Maybe because it's not the first time? No one who knew us could say we were a good couple. A couple ... because he wanted it so, because he introduced us that way. We have been together for two years, but apart. Our lives take a completely different course. When he's on tour again, I'm alone here with my own life. Then he comes back, for a few days, for a week, to disappear again for months. Turns my whole, simple life upside down. The complete mismatch of our characters ignites argues for whatever reason that only end in two possible ways: silence or passion. And most likely it is this passion that keeps our entire relationship going.

„Oh c’mon Y/N don’t be mad. Love…” However, this time I was fed up. „We haven't seen each other for a month, I want you-„

„No. I want you to leave. We may not have seen each other for three weeks, not a month. After all, you've been in town for a week.” A smile slowly faded from his face. I looked at his pursed lips and now narrowed eyes. „I was on the phone with Graham. It's funny that we were both surprised to find you weren't where you supposed to be!”

„I’m gonna kill him. Fuck.” Damon got up and started walking towards me. „For what? For lying to him and me? Why are you making fools of all of us?”

„It's not what you think…” We were now millimeters apart. I could feel his heavy breathing and the smell of cigarettes. It was the same Damon. In the same sweater, with a small hole next to the collar, that I bought him for Christmas, in the same hairstyle, though his hair was a little longer than last time ... The same tired eyes that were looking for mine now. I felt his hand touch mine uncertainly. I felt his hand touch mine uncertainly. „Look at me. I apologize, a few things stopped me…”

„Stopped you from what? From going home for the night? From calling me? Oh thank Lord, you finally found your way home! Needed a map? Compass?” A wave of anger has taken over my mouth completely. „It's good that you've found shelter in the beds of your female fans.” I took my hand out of his grip and without a word, I passed him over to sit on the sofa. My legs were like cotton wool. We had argued many times, but I'd never said it to his face before. I knew he was cheating on me. After all, our relationship was never serious. I didn't call him my boyfriend, we just slept together and we'd have fun. He was the one who babbled everywhere that I was his girlfriend. He got angry when other men appeared around me. But he himself gave me a million reasons to be jealous. I looked at his back. Why couldn't we be one of those couples, where I would now hugging him from behind, covering his eyes and asking "Guess who”. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

„If you didn't want me to come back… why didn't you tell me to return the keys?” Slowly my thoughts wandered away. At first I didn't even understand what he was saying to me. „Why is there a beer in the fridge that I like even though you hate it. Why... even now you're wearing my t-shirt?” The way he emphasized "mine" made me clench my jaw tighter. „ Just admit you're addicted to me. „You can't ... or rather you don’t want me to disappear from your life… Y/N”

The confidence that radiated from his voice made me sick. I stood up and picked up the magazine that Damon had been looking through earlier and threw it in his direction. It hit the wall with a dull bang. „You make me sick. Think about what you say. For months, all we have been doing is arguing. Do you remember the last time you left without arguing? Because I don't. I'm sick of it…” Our eyes met, but the feeling of regret and shame again made my gaze fixate on some distant point. I felt my heart pounding at dizzying speed „ It's over.”

If the words had a weight, mine would weigh several tons. I wanted to be alone so that the world could collapse on me in complete silence and solitude.

„C’mon love… it's just another stupid argument. I know that's not what you want.” His voice hesitated slightly at the last words. „Y/N look at me”. But I didn’t. I could feel his gaze on me watching my every move. He repeated, this time louder and even more firmly. When there was no answer this time, I felt his hands suddenly tighten on my wrists. With all his anger, he was standing next to me again. His mouth crushed mine. The force with which he pressed against me made me sway and I fell onto the sofa. But Damon didn't break the kiss for a moment. My fingers lightly tightened on his back. I knew he loved me, but just knowing couldn't make me happy.

His hands slipped under my shirt lifted it slightly, revealing my stomach. He kissed me as if he wanted to sink into me, to enter my heart again. He didn't have to, because despite my words, he still had a place in.

„You making me so miserable Damon” I turned my head to the side so that his lips were against my cheek, then slowly moved towards my neck. But he said nothing. His kiss was coming lower and lower. I felt like they were burning my skin through the fabric of my shirt. He placed the last two kisses on my exposed tummy.

„You hurting me by saying such things. You know I'm trying.” With a hollow sigh, Damon rose to meet my eyes.”You know it's not like I don't care about you. You are damn important to me, I don't want you to disappear from my life."

His hand touched my face as he gently caress my cheek with his thumb. Our lips met again, but this time they only brushed each other. I felt his whole weight fall on me, how his head rests calmly on my chest and his hands gently wrap around my waist. We were surrounded by silence. I could smell his shampoo mixed with the smell of cigarettes. Uncertainly, my hand went towards his hair. I stroked them gently. I couldn't understand if it was his weight that was causing me pain or my own heart, which was breaking into millions of piecesWhy couldn't life be much easier for us?

„Do you mind if I smoke?” Damon whispered as he twisted his head so that it rested between the space of my breasts. „This time, I'll let you. But take the ashtray from the kitchen and open the window.” He released me from my tight grip and slowly stands up from the couch. I followed his every move with my eyes.

When he turned to face me as he lit a cigarette, I noticed that the glow that had been in them a moment before had disappeared from his eyes. He puffed the smoke slowly out of his mouth and sat back down on the couch. This time, however, at the opposite end.

He had a beautiful face profile. He looked like a teenager with no bad thoughts in his head. Innocently. That was the perfect word. But something was missing. As if someone had put out the candle and all the glow had vanished into the darkness. I got closer to him, I wanted to stick to him and never let him go. Without a word, Damon pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head a few times. „I love you.” I whispered closing my eyes. He didn't answer right away, just finished smoking without haste.

„I love you too.”

There were no more words that needed to be spoken. We sat in this position for a long time. Sometimes Damon placed a kiss on my head or my hand. He gently stroked my shoulder.

"I should go. You are probably very tired" I nodded my head. I quickly raised his hand, which had been holding mine tightly for a long moment, and kissed it. He looked surprised but smiled slightly.

"I'll walk you to the door." Still holding hands, we walked to the door. Damon put on his jacket and stood with his hands in pockets. I tried to smile but all my facial muscles froze in a grimace. "You should start wearing a warmer jacket. The nights are pretty chilly..." He didn't answer anything but nodded. I wanted to say something else, say that he should stay... This was where his home was supposed to be. However, it would be a lie to say that it would have future.

Damon hugged me and kissed me one last time. His hand found mine, and I felt him place something cold in my palm. I clenched the small object in my hand. And then Damon left.

I stood staring at the closed door. I felt as if I was not in my own apartment, but in some distant, strange place. I tried to collect my thoughts, but the excess of masked emotions started to give me a headache. I looked at my hand and found that what he pressed into my hand was a key. Key to my apartment. So it was goodbye.

february 1995

The days passed without much meaning. I got up, went to work, came back, ate, went to sleep. I locked myself in a kind of bubble that I didn't want to get out of because it was too painful for me. I never thought it would hurt me so much, something that a year ago I associated only with fun and nothing deeper. No feelings.

Snow was falling outside the window. I was sitting in an armchair drinking some leftover alcohol that I found in the refrigerator. it was my way to escape.I didn't watch TV, I didn't read the newspapers. Damon's popularity was huge. I had the impression that in every newspaper there was at least one picture of him or band. The sound of the phone pulled me out of my dullness. I frowned because I didn't expect anyone to call me. I got up heavily from my seat and went to the phone.

"Yes?" For a moment, no one spoke. "Y/N? Wha's up?" I couldn't find whose voice it was. But suddenly something clicked in my head.

"Graham. Has something bad happened?"

"Something bad? Noooo. Why did you think so?" I felt he was a little nervous. " I just called to see how you are doing. You know, because of it all ... somehow we haven't had a chance to talk."

"Uhm... I'm doing great. I guess." I wanted him to leave me alone. "What about you? Are you back from the tour? It all worked out? Or maybe it's a bad question. I can see that everything went fine, all the media are talking about you."

"Yeah, that's a bit crazy." He paused for a moment "But you know, Damon's not doing so great."

This was the reason he called. I fiddled nervously with the phone cable. I bit my lips.

"What do you mean?"

"Damon ... is somehow absent. As if he wasn't having a good time at all. You know, as if all the energy was coming out of him. He's still a jester on stage, but it is very difficult to talk to him privately.Maybe you could finally pick up the phone from him?"

"No. This is not a good idea. We have completed this chapter. It takes time here, Damon has a good heart and a lot of love to offer. In time those bad emotions will pass and he will be his old self again. He will start new realtionship." The last words almost stuck in my throat. I never thought about it before. He spends time with other girls but always comes back to me. But now it's all over. "Entering back into our "pact" would be a toxic situation again.

"Have you ever thought that this could be a real relationship and not just a "pact"?"

"Graham, no, come on. Don't get me into this again. I made my decision."

"However, you don't sound happy at all."

"Maybe I also need some time. God. Why are you calling and making it even harder for me."

"Because I think you're quite selfish. You made your own decision. You didn't talk..."

"From what I can remember, I wasn't with you, but with Damon. You don't know the situation, so you have no right to tell me such things.I wonder how you would feel in my place." I fel anger rising inside me. "Anything else you want to say? If not, I hang up."

"Wait! I didn't want to... Fuck, I'm sorry. I just want to say that it was better then, when we all got in touch and everything." And I felt the same. " Y/N, Maybe we'll have a beer sometime. Of course, I am not forcing you to meet with boys. I'm just a little worried about Damon and you. Plus I really like you and I don't want to lose touch."

"I understand. Sure. I promise to pick up calls from you"

"I feel honored" we chuckled and I hang up.

november 1995

Fall has come again, or even it was almost winter. The days were gloomy and rainy, but I slowly regained my inner peace. It's been a year since I last saw Damon face to face. He called me many times, but I wasn't in the mood to talk. I knew once I picked up the phone I would never cut that toxic bond. Now was the time to get back to social life...

My colleague from work invited me to a party at her friends' house. I didn't know anyone but her, so I hesitated for a long time whether to accept the invitation. However, when another lonely friday came, I decided not to lose another day of my youth.

I found a nice dress in the wardrobe, did a little make-up and straightened my hair. I looked fine. I ordered a taxi for 9 pm and went first to my friend's house, and then straight to the party together. When I heard loud music as I got out of the car, I suddenly felt like going in is a mistake.

"Y/N c'mon i'm freezing!" I was grabbed by the hand and led inside. The house was crowded. In a way that made me feel uncomfortable. "Stay close to me. I won't leave you alone in a place where you don't know anyone. I will introduce you to a few people."

I relaxed a little. Alcohol and my friend's energy helped a lot. However, it was difficult to be close to her with so many people joining or leaving the conversation. So after a while I noticed that she was nowhere to be seen in the crowd. But this did not bother me. The alcohol level in my blood meant that I would no longer be reluctant to talk to anyone.

I decided to get another beer from the kitchen. I pushed my way through the crowd of people. Before I entered the kitchen, my eyes turned to the corner of the hall where some couple talk... too intensely.

My heart skipped a beat. It was Damon with some girl I didn't know.In my soul, I prayed that he would not notice me. I wanted to take my jacket and leave this house as soon as possible. But it was too late. He grabbed the girl's hand to apparently take her somewhere else. When he turned around, our eyes met.

I was standing with a stupid empty beer bottle and I didn't know what to do in this situation. I had not even thought that I would be in this situation. I noticed how my name coming out voicelessly from his mouth. Nothing good could come out of this meeting.

I quickly turned around to blend in with the crowd and then calmly walk out. I decided to go up the stairs and find a quiet place somewhere. I didn't even think about entering any of the rooms, probably some couples had already closed there. I sat down on the floor and leaned against the railing. I took a cigarette from my purse and lit it.

"Since when do you smoke?" It was him. I knew he would find me wherever I went. I even dared to think that if I did manage to leave, he would knock on my door sooner or later. I did not answer, but I shook the ashes into the bottle, which, for some reason I was still holding in my hand.

"It happens"

"It doesn't suit you."

"It's just your opinion." However, I threw the rest of my cigarette into the bottle and set it aside. "Why were you looking for me. You looked busy."

"It's nothing. I've called you so many times. Why didn't you pick up?" I still didn't look in his direction, but I felt his eyes piercing me. "I called and called and called. I've even been to your apartment a few times..."

"I know I saw you through the window." I got up. "Damon, what do you expect from me? I thought we had told each other everything." I heard his stupid mocking laugh. "We told everything? I don't remember talking much then." However I remember you broke up with me at first and then you said you love me. So you give me hope"

"You gave the key back! Was that the final end? And now? You were with some girl! You don't think about me, you just think you have a right to me. You act like I'm your property!" I didn't feel like arguing, but he gave me no other choice. "If you loved me you would let me go peacefully and wouldn't play with my feelings"

"How the fuck would I let you go when I'm in love with you! You contradict yourself." This was the first time I heard such aggression in his voice. Usually, when we argued, his words were painful, but their tone was completely indifferent.

"If you love me, why do you share this love with all the women around?" I wanted to cry, but I couldn't give him this satisfaction and show that it still hurts me that our "relationship" is a thing of the past.

"You agreed to it. You said it didn't bother you." He frowned and walked a few steps towards me.

"What else could I say? You would do it anyway." Damon lowered his head and put his hands in his pockets.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't want you to feel like this. You always looked happy when we met. I should have noticed that something is wrong..."

"You are cunt... But I WAS happy. We had an amazing bond, I've never felt anything like this before. However, this whole mess was slowly killing me from the inside. I am unable to share. Maybe I am selfish, but I will not change my mind on this."

"If I promise you that you'll be the only one, is there any chance we'll start over?" I approached him and put my hand on his cheek.

"I'm afraid it may be too late for that. Trust is not built in a day or a week. Damon, this really doesn't make sense. We will never be happy together."

His expression changed from a slender to a kind of anger. He threw my hand away as if it had started to burn him. I started to be afraid of him. Damon kicked the bottle I had set aside with all his might. The glass hit the wall and shattered into many pieces. The mixture of alcohol and anger wasn't a good mix at the moment.

"Fuck it. Why you gotta be like that. Why are you making me the worst person in the world.How many times do I have to apologize to you.."

"Damon, calm down."

"Oh shut up." He kept coming closer to me until my back touched the wall. " Why are you rejecting me all the time.I'm like a dog at your every command, and you just keep saying that I make you feel miserable"

He was kissing me again. Invasive but passionate. Only then did I notice how drunk he was. I missed him. Drunk and sober. Aggressive and gentle. Its any version

"Why don't you tell me to stop? Why don't you push me away?" He whispered straight into my mouth. "You don't even know how much I've missed you all this time. I wanted to have you in my arms, wake up next to you...Gosh, fuck you and hear you say my name."

"What can I do? Each time, somewhere in my mind, I imagine that it's a different girl instead of me, how you tell her all these things, how you touch her, how your lips touch her body. It's killing me. Being with you makes me feel insecure." The kiss grew deeper and deeper. Damon's hand rested on my thigh and gently lifted my dress.

"But you are the best. You are the best thing that has happened to me in my life. Y/N" He kissed my neck and his hand moves higher and higher towards my panties.

"Stop. You are drunk."

"So what?"

"All these words won't make us all okay. A moment ago, another girl was in my place." I put my hand on his chest. "You still don't understand. How much I would not love you, you won't change."

I released myself from his grip. This time he did not resist. Without a word, I walked past him and headed for the stairs.

"Y/N..."

"Hm?" I stopped and looked in his direction for the last time.

"If I call you, will you pick it up?"

"Maybe." I shrugged my shoulders. "I know you are going to come over me anyway."

"I really do love you."

I didn't return his words. Maybe those weren't empty words on his part, but it wasn't time to give him a chance again.

#damon albarn x reader #damon albarn #blur #fanfic #blur fanfic #angst #imagine #britpop #blur band #damon fanfic #fanfiction #alex james #graham coxon #dave rowntree #au #90s #y/n

143 notes · View notes

racheloveyunho · 3 years

Text

Till death do us part - 4

Y/N grew up in a wealthy family, she always was seen as a beautiful and smart kid and was most likely to take her father’s place as the CEO of one of the most important companies in South Korea. However, after the death of her mother, Y/N’s family slowly started to break apart. Her father was always working to forget his uncalled pain while his kids were left alone at home.

She was 17 years old when her life took a sudden turn when she met him in a dark alley. He was a bloody mess, bruises everywhere but behind blood and dirt, she could see his beautiful features and his addictive gaze. Maybe she should have walked away, maybe she shouldn’t have helped him, but the moment his gaze locked with hers, she was already his.

Choi San was his name.

Genre: Mafia AU, smut, angst, fluff, stranger to lovers

Words: 1883

TW series: Y/N is described as an OC. Please be aware that this story will contain a lot of triggering content such as smut, blood, death, murder, drug, kidnapping, etc. Do not read if you are under a legal age!

TW chapter: Obsessive behavior (from Y/N’s and San’s side), threats, swearing and a hint of jealousy.

Here it was, the silhouette I liked the most

"San..."

He hugged me tightly as if there was no tomorrow. I noticed how he was sweaty and out of breathe, probably from running to get to me faster.

I breathed in his unique scent, it was woody scent, something fresh but still manly. I felt safer with him, everything was easier when he was by my side. I didn't want to let him go and my feelings seemed mutual as he tightened his grip on my waist.

I was like a piece of metal attracted to a magnet.

We sat down on the bed and he let me cry my heart out, listening every word I had to say. I told him my story, my conflictual relationship with my father, how harsh he was with me and my brother since my mom passed away and my arranged wedding with this Hwang Jinyoung.

We talked for two good hours about my problems but also about the future we both wanted.

As time went on, I started to feel sleepy, my eyelids were heavy and my mind was cloudy. I slowly closed my eyes until I fell into a deep sleep into San's arms. He gently patted my head to help me fall asleep.

"Don't worry Y/N, I will protect you from now on."

San hummed a song before falling asleep by Y/N’s side.

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

Chapter 4

I woke up in the same room I felt asleep on. The unusual walls made my heart ache at the thought of what had happened between my father and I. I knew deep inside me that there will be no turning back with my relationship with him but strangely enough, i didn't feel bad about it, I was more concerned about my brother than anything.

"Did you sleep well?"

I looked up and was greeted by this angelical face of his. San was laying on the same bed as me, one of his muscular arm holding my frame tightly. I smiled back and hide my face on his chest, smelling his addictive scent at the same time.

"I did."

It was a weird feeling. I knew almost nothing of San, I met him three times and still... I felt as if I could give him my whole body and soul. I couldn't help but think about what my mom told me when I was still a child.

"Someday you will find someone you can rely on, someone who doesn't need words to know how you feel, someone who understand and cherish you as the most precious thing in the world. You will find this person one day Y/N, I'm sure of it."

My lips came upward in a smile as I remembered my mom's word, they had a new meaning to me since I met San.

His grip tightened a little around me while his other hand was busy, gently petting my hair.

"You are acting like a boyfriend"

"Do you like it?"

"Very much" I smiled, looking fondly at him and before I knew it, San leaned on and kissed me slightly.

His lips felt like feather, there was nothing but sweetness and love in this kiss, his right hand cupped my cheek and rubbed his thumb against the soft skin.

When our lips finally moved apart, I looked up to meet his - oh so lovely - gaze.

"You are so beautiful"

"Say the man whom is beauty itself" I giggled softly.

This moment was almost perfect - almost.

My mind was quick to remember about the bitterness of the situation I was in. I looked down sadly, avoiding San's intrigued eyes.

A lot of questions were running on my mind. What will happen from now on? I was still minor and my dad was stubborn, he would never let me escape from his grasp so easily. How will I survive? I didn't even had enough money to stay on this hotel for more than a week.

Unconsciously, I sighed heavily. San took my chin between his thumb and his index and lift my face towards his.

"What is it?" San asked me in a whisper.

"Did you bring your phone with you? I have to call Hana, she must be worried."

After a few seconds, he nodded and gave me his phone. I entered the familiar number and quickly enough, Hana's voice was heard through the phone.

"Y/N!! Is everything okay? I was worried sick! I thought you were coming early in the morning?" Her voice cracked at the end of her sentence. I frowned my eyebrows. She was whispering yelling and it was odd since she was always a loud girl.

"Sorry, I didn't wake up. Why are you this quiet?" I suspiciously asked.

"Y/N, I don't think you should come here, your father was there one hour ago and he was beyond furious! He threatened me and my family, saying that he will ruin our lives if he find out we are hiding you from him!" She cried out.

This sentence came before a long and heavy silence where no one dared to talk. My mind was processing this new information while my heart was scolding me for bringing my best friend and her family into a delicate situation.

San was quietly listening to our conversation, his right hand on top of mine while his thumb was gently rubbing the back of my hand..

"I'm so sorry Hana... I didn't mean to bring you into this mess..." I lowered my voice, guilt eating me alive.

"Hey sweety... It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong but... I don't think this is a good idea to go against your father will. He is really scary."

"Are you telling me to came back home and let my father do everything he wants with me?" My throat felt suddenly dry and my heart heavy in my chest.

No answer.

I knew she was just afraid of what could possibly happen to her and her family, she just wanted to protect her loved ones. However, I couldn't help but feel betrayed. She knew how my father was and how hard it was for me to handle this situation.

"I see. Don't worry for me, I'm gonna find a way." I finally stated with the coldest voice I could muster. I didn't let her the time to give an answer and hung up right away.

I stayed silent for a while and so did San.

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally looked up at him and sighed with a small smile "Thank you for what you did to me. I owe you one"

"Why are you talking as if you are going somewhere?" he arched his eyebrows before leaning close to me with his signature smirk of his "I'm not planning to let you go away from me, love."

I gasped in surprise "L-love?" I asked stuttering, embarrassed by this sudden pet name.

"Why are you embarrassed about? We just kissed a few minutes ago"

I avoided his gaze and coughed slightly to get rid of the awkwardness "I can't stay here San... You will be in trouble if my dad find out you helped me and I don't want it to happen."

This time, it was San's turn to sight.

"Y/N. Listen to me. I will let you two choices" I frowned but stayed silent to let him continue "You don't know who I am but I can help you. However I won't take you with me if you don't want to. It's up to you. Do you want to stay with me, where I'll promise to keep you safe by my side, or do you want to go back and be toyed your entire life by your father against your own will?"

Silence again.

His face was serious and his voice demanding, It actually made me think I couldn't choose the latter choice - not that I wanted to choose this option anyway.

"Why are you doing this.. I mean, we don't know much about each other and-"

"Kim Y/N, born in Seoul the 25th September 1999 at 3:48. You like horror movies and all kind of sweets, your mother passed away the 4th June and since then, your father had changed completely, leaving you and your brother behind" San said, never breaking visual contact with me "You are the student with the best grades on your class and you are the teacher's favorite and even though you want to attend the prestigious Seoul national college, you don't know what to do in your life yet"

I was astonished, how did he get all his information?

As if on cue, he slipped a hand in my hair "It's been two years now Y/N, no one know you as much as I do. I know every single details about you but now, I don't want to look at your life from far away, I want to be apart of it" He smiled but frowned as I slowly stepped away from him "were you stalking me all this time?" I asked, heart beating fast.

"Come on, I know you are as obsessed over me as I am over you" He laughed before standing up and quickly doing his hair while looking his own reflect on the mirror “I was there every time you talked to your friend about me”

I watched his every move and couldn’t find anything to say. No matter how crazy it sounded, I knew he was right.

"And how are you gonna help me?"

"Your dad isn't all white, quite the contrary" He said "I know enough to tell him to let you be" He added.

"Are you going to... threaten him?" I looked at him through the mirror.

"Why? You don't want me to?" He smiled at me, his back still facing me.

I took a deep breathe.

"No... He deserves it"

He turned around and came closer to me with the widest smirk.

"So... Are you coming with me?"

I watched as the landscape kept changing from outside the window. The spacious car was moving in slow pace in a part of Seoul I never went in.

I knew it was the beginning of something new but everything seemed so unreal, the only thing that kept me back to reality was the warmth of San's hand intertwining with mine.

I quickly take a glance at the driver, his sharp nose and strong eyes made him look cold, a perfect contrast with his tanned skin. I was surprised by how young he was, probably not much older than San and I and obviously both of them were getting along with each other.

I was so focus on looking at the man and wondering who he was to San that I didn't took notice of my staring until I felt San squeezing my hand.

"Y/N...I'm not sure of how I feel about you looking at another man" He pouted cutely to grab my attention back to him. I laughed lowly and gave him a apologetic look "I'm not sure how I feel about you being jaleous while we are not in an official relationship yet" I smirked at him.

"The kiss wasn't official enough for you?" He smirked back "should I give you an other one then? " He asked, his face coming closer to mine.

His lips ghosted over mine but we were interrupted by a loud cough before we could properly touch each other.

"Please San, can you keep your hands for yourself until you both are alone? I don't especially want to see you guys kiss in the back seat of my car" The driver said in a rather annoyed tone.

"Look who is talking" San scoffed "Should I remind you how many times you made out with your girlfriend in front of me?"

The older man let out a dry laugh, his eyes still on the road.

After a few minutes of a comfortable silencex the driver looked at me from the front mirror.

"Your name is Y/N, right?"

"Yes... And you are..?"

"I'm Seonghwa. Park Seonghwa" He said "I'm glad to meet you, San wouldn't shut up and talk about you every fucking day" He laughed, earning another loud scoff from San.

"Watch your mouth, you are older but I'm still the boss here" San growled.

Suddenly, the car stopped abruptly.

"We safely came back to your home sir~" Seonghwa politely stated, not without a hint of teasing in his voice.

San pulled me out of the car, hand still holding mine firmly. I followed him and looked up at the huge mansion in front of us.

My mouth fell agape, this place was way bigger than mine.

"Welcome to your new house" San smiled.

-----------

We are finally starting to introduce the others members!

Also this chapter is a bit shorter, I didn’t even noticed until I checked the number of words but I thought it was better this way, there was nothing to add since the next chapter was already done lol.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it!

See you next time~

Tag list:

@hijirikaww @pinkchampagne2 @xduygu-arsx @joongiebug @leicy0756

76 notes · View notes

alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years

Text

seventeen (paris, 1901)

this is inspired by "seventeen" by MARINA! i recommend giving it a listen! the way she sings the chorus honestly gives me chills, it really makes me think about how young alastair was when all of this was happening. sorry in advance for the angst!

cw: toxic relationship, bullying

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Could never tell you what happened

The day I turned seventeen

Seventeen, Alastair thought. The number sat happily in his mind. It wasn’t a particularly special number. He still was not an adult in the eyes of the Clave, but he took comfort in the number. One year older.

When he was younger, he thought of his birthdays and the years passing optimistically, imagining that in the future there would eventually be a day where he felt like the age of his body matched the age of his mind. Now, however, he doubted that day would ever come.

Adults liked to tell him he had an ‘old soul.’ Parents always commented on his maturity. Not his parents, of course, but when he visited the boys from school or his family found themselves at some gathering of sorts, those were the words he always heard. Oh, Alastair is so mature for his age.

Perhaps that was his problem, he’d always thought. That was the reason he could never make friends the way that Cordelia did. The reason he never got on well with people his own age. He was never any sort of teacher’s pet in school, but he always found it easier to converse with adults nonetheless. He felt far more comfortable with Charles than he ever did with any of the boys from the Academy. It was all because he had an old soul, and his peers did not.

As he grew older, however, these designations made less and less sense to him. He did not feel as if his soul was old at all. In fact, most of the time, he felt more like a thirteen-year-old pretending to be a thirty-year-old than anything else. Now, he was certain that he would never feel like his physical age fit the rest of him. Still, seventeen was a nice number.

Alastair didn’t have strong feelings about birthdays. Most of the time, he simply did not wish for the attention. Back before he went away to school, birthdays were never much of an ordeal. They were far too busy with his father’s health to spend much time, money, or energy on something as relatively insignificant as a birthday. Still, he and Cordelia had a habit of making each other presents for their birthdays. His was in early autumn, September, and they’d spend the day outside, wherever they were living.

They’d collect the prettiest flowers and stones and anything else they could find, then build whatever they could make out of what they had. A castle out of clay; a crown out of twigs. It was nice; it was special. It was theirs.

Then, Alastair went away to the Shadowhunter Academy. He was not excited to spend his fourteenth birthday alone. He missed Cordelia dearly, and the bullying did nothing to help. On the morning of his birthday, he’d gone to the mess hall, attempting to contain both his excitement that there would be letters waiting for him and his anxiety that there would not.

When he arrived, however, the boys were waiting for him, Clive and Augustus and the rest. Clive was in the front, holding an opened envelope. He twirled a flower stem in his fingers, the petals clearly torn off. He could see a few other broken flowers, crushed at his feet. Augustus was beside him, holding out a letter for the others to see, already mocking the writing on the page simply because he could not read it.

Alastair would never read it either, whatever his mother had written him, nor would he read Cordelia’s letter. In fact, he would not remember most of that day at all, only the bruises after.

He did not write to them after that, and when he returned for the winter holidays, conveniently the same time as Cordelia’s birthday, he let the occasion pass without a word. When she asked him if he’d received the flowers she sent to him, he told her he didn’t.

She did not send him anything for his fifteenth birthday.

He spent his sixteenth birthday at home again, but it did not matter. He’d already put far too much distance between him and his sister. He considered trying to apologize for the way he’d treated her, promising to do better, but when the day came, he’d spent the entirety of the night before searching for their father who always decided to go on a bender a few weeks after they arrived in a new city. He’d wistfully wished himself a happy birthday at some early morning hour, gone to bed, and decided it simply was not worth the effort. The only thing he wanted for his birthday was for it to no longer be his birthday anymore.

Today, he was finally seventeen. He’d received two letters at the Paris Institute the day before, one from his mother, wishing him well on his travel year, and the other from his sister, though it was short and he was fairly certain their mother had forced her to write it. There were no flowers, and he did not deserve them. The boys at school may have hurt him, but the way he continued to treat her in the years after was entirely on him. He thought for a moment that he should find her something in Paris, a book or a piece of jewelry so beautiful and thoughtful that she would need to forgive him. He did not believe he deserved her forgiveness, though.

Charles was away visiting his family in London, so Alastair would spend his seventeenth birthday alone. He doubted Charles even remembered it anyways, or that he would have wanted to do anything special for it if he had.

Thus, he did what he did any time he needed some cheering up: he started by visiting various bookshops across the city. He did not typically purchase much from them, but he found the atmosphere comforting. His father was an avid reader and was always severely critical of his son’s tastes in literature. He had many opinions over what was worthy of reading and what was an utter waste of time. Any time Alastair attempted to choose a volume to purchase for himself, he inevitably felt his father’s voice creeping up in the back of his mind. He wasn’t certain whether he preferred the books that the voice favored or the ones it didn’t. Nonetheless, he disliked anything that reminded him of his father, so he resigned himself to casual browsing, purchasing books as gifts for others, and only ever buying for himself what he had the space to hide.

After, he’d take himself to an art exhibit or the Louvre. He was fairly certain he could spend weeks in the Louvre and never grow tired of it.

When he finally returned to the Paris Institute that evening, he’d felt content that at the very least, his birthday was not as terrible as the ones preceding it. As he entered the building, he was startled to see Charles’ coat in the cloakroom. He quickly hung up his own belongings and went to the dining room where dinner was already being served. Charles was there, politely chatting in French with the head of the Institute, Jean Beauvale.

“Monsieur Fairchild!” It felt odd to address him so formally, but while it may be appropriate to address Charles by his first name in English, it was not in French. “You’ve returned from London.”

“Yes, I just got in a few hours ago,” Charles responded. “How was your day?”

“Yes,” Monsieur Beauvale added. “You must tell us how you spent your day off.”

Alastair always felt like this question was a bit of a trap. He knew that Shadowhunters viewed art and literature as a waste of time, but at the same time, he did not want to show a lack of appreciation for the culture. In the end, he simply commented on the beauty of the city and the language, thankful that he could spend a bit more time learning about France.

A servant arrived then with a bottle of champagne, and Monsieur Beauvale proposed a toast. This was how Alastair learned that the Beauvales would be traveling for several months, and Charles would serve as interim head of the Institute. “That is not the only thing we have to congratulate you for, is it,” he added.

Charles grinned a humble, sympathetic politician’s grin. “Oh, thank you, Monsieur. Yes, it’s true, Ariadne Bridgestock and I are to be married,” he announced.

Alastair felt his blood run cold. He bit the insides of his cheeks, forcing a smile and a congratulations. The rest of the meal dragged on, though Monsieur Beauvale and Charles did not seem to sense any tension. When it was over, Alastair promptly excused himself and returned to his room. He suddenly wished desperately that he had purchased a book earlier, anything to take his mind off of this awful truth. Charles was to be married. He was marrying a woman. Of course he was, why would Alastair have ever been enough for him? Still, he felt as if he’d at least been owed a warning.

He heard a knock at his door, but he did not respond to it. “Alastair,” he heard Charles say gently. “Please allow me to explain.”

He should have refused. He should have told him to leave and been done with the whole ordeal. When he looked back on this moment years in the future, he’d wish he did. However, he was lonely, and it was his birthday, and thus he let Charles inside.

“I know you’re upset,” he began.

“I’m not upset,” Alastair said quickly.

“Right,” he responded. “Anyways, this is merely what needs to be done to please our families, both mine and Ariadne’s.” Of what Alastair knew of the Fairchilds, he had a hard time believing that they cared that much about Charles’ romantic life. “This is what I need to do if I wish to secure a position in the Clave, a real position, not simply interim head of an Institute. It means nothing, I swear it. She has no interest in me. It’s merely an arrangement; it’s not real.”

“Not real? You mean, you’re not getting married?” Alastair asked, not fully believing Charles’ words.

“No,” he said quickly. “I mean, perhaps, one day far, far in the future, I will need to, but I have no intention of getting married right now. I am merely doing what I must, you understand that, don’t you?”

“I suppose.”

“You know what the world we live in is like. We must do what we can to ensure our success in it.” Satisfied with Alastair’s reluctant acceptance, he pulled a long, thin box from his pocket. “I have a present for you.”

Alastair blinked. “What?”

“You didn’t think I would forget your birthday, did you?” Charles handed him the box, already smiling in anticipation.

He slowly untied the string securing it, and uncovered a fine, ornate dagger made of stunning Damascus steel. He must have paid handsomely for it. He knew that Charles did not understand his collection of blades, why someone, a warrior, would collect weapons with no intention of using them, but the dagger was gorgeous, each element of it expertly chosen. Alastair could not keep himself from smiling.

“I knew you’d like it,” Charles said, pleased. “Alastair, you know how deeply I care for you. I would never do anything to hurt you. I swear, everything I do is so that you and I could be together.”

Alastair looked at him in stunned silence. He’d never heard those words before, but he’d hear them many, many more before their relationship finally came to an end. At that moment, Alastair felt as if Charles’ words were true. He felt as if there had never been anyone to care for him as much as Charles cared for him, and there never would. He felt as though the key to everything he desired lay within this man. The way he was looking at him, this beautiful dagger in his hands, how was he to feel anything but loved?

He’d look back on it years down the line and wonder how long Charles must have planned that moment, if he’d organized his trip and his engagement all around Alastair’s birthday so that he could have an excuse to give him such a very expensive gift, whether the existence of it was merely a ploy to distract him from the reality of his engagement. If it was, it worked.

That night, Alastair held no doubts in his mind that Charles’ words were anything but the full truth, even as he left him cold and alone that night to return to his own room, only ever staying until he himself was satisfied. Many months would pass before Alastair would even begin to question that night, when he would begin to wonder whether it was the beginning of the end.

The rise of a king and the fall of a queen,

Oh, seventeen

Seventeen

thanks for reading! taglist (lmk to be added/removed or if you only want to be tagged in certain fics): @stxr-thxif @satanisanauthor @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs

#alastair carstairs #anti buford boy #the last hours #tlh #fanfiction #fanfic #cw toxic relationship #cw bullying #stairstairs appreciation month 2021

81 notes · View notes

gingeralepdf · 4 years

Text

Walk On By - Part 2

A/N: yay!!!!!! another installment in the shroomrry cinematic universe is here!! i want to say a huge thank you to el ( @harrytheehottie ) and brailey ( @daydreamsofh ) for being excellent beta readers and supporters. <3 <3

and thank you to everyone who has shown my writing love. i truly appreciate it so much. i hope you like this part just as much as the first one. :-)

if you haven’t read part 1, catch up here!!

🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄

****CONTENT WARNING**** alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use

You’re simply buying magic mushrooms from Harry. However, if you keep running into each other, is it going to stay that simple?

word count: just under 5k

**September 15th, 1977, Los Angeles, California**

The brakes on your car squeal as you pull into the last empty spot along the curb and shift into park. The music from your radio comes to an abrupt stop when you turn the key back to shut the engine off. Your head hits the headrest behind you before you empty your lungs into the silence.

Cars drive past on the street to your left. It’s just past five thirty, so all of the after work traffic is in full swing.

You’ve been avoiding this errand for two weeks now. There’s a record that you’ve been wanting to get your hands on ever since one of your coworkers played it at a work function. After looking through shelf after shelf in all of your favorite shops in L.A., and even making some calls to shops in surrounding areas, they’ve all come up short.

This seems to be your very last resort. Right across the street, sandwiched between a donut shop and a hair salon, is Jupiter House Records. From what you remember, this shop has a really good selection and variety, but the handful of unpleasant interactions you’ve had with the owner have been enough to make you look somewhere else. You’ve been stubbornly avoiding this place for years. Now you have a whole other reason for not wanting to spend hours in this store digging through to find your favorites or discover new ones.

Harry works here.

You haven’t seen him since he showed up on your doorstep to return your address book. The conversation you had with Jenny when she came home from work that evening plays through your mind again.

Both of you plop down on opposite sides of the couch in your living room. You sigh and take a big sip from your glass of wine before explaining the whole interaction to her, starting from the moment you opened the door to the moment you saw him drive away in his car.

Jenny grins. The only sound in the room comes from the ticking of the clock on the wall as you wait for her response. “I think he likes you.”

You squint. “That’s what you’re taking away from all of that?”

Her eyes widen and she springs forward, almost sloshing the wine out of her glass when she sets it on the coffee table. “Oh, so you’re telling me he saw the ‘If lost please return to..’ in your address book and decided to make a trip to our house to return it to you in person, when he could have just sent it in the mail?”

You can feel a crease forming between your eyebrows and you take in a sharp breath, fully prepared to counter her point, but she barrels through.

“And he wanted to ‘make sure you were okay’. Out of all the dealers that we’ve met, how many have just shown up at our houses to check up on us? Zero.”

You press your lips together. You can’t argue the fact that this alone sets Harry apart. However, this doesn’t mean he likes you. Maybe it just means that he’s the kind of person that goes the extra mile for the people he does business with. He could have easily left you and Jen sitting on the sidewalk after the concert, but he decided to help, to do what any other good-natured person would do.

“And let’s not forget how he threw the paper on the doorstep so you wouldn’t have to walk all the way down the driveway.” Jenny clutches her chest and swoons.

Scoffing at the way she’s adding dramatics, you challenge, “How do you know he didn’t show up here to see you?”

“He didn’t ask about me, did he?”

“No,” you begrudgingly mumble into your glass.

She grabs her glass from the coffee table and gives you a knowing look. She’s made her point, and the more it lingers like the aftertaste of wine, the more conflicted you become.

You’ve spent more idle moments than you’d like to admit since then thinking about the night you were sitting outside of the Forum. Thinking about what possessed you to lean in and study his face so closely. Was it solely the effects of the drugs? If that’s the case, then why do you want to go back to that moment so badly? And why didn’t Harry pull away? Did he really blush when you were staring at him? Was his heart really racing when you gave him a hug, or was that just your wild imagination?

The honking of a car brings you out of your thoughts. You take a deep breath and trill your lips. There’s a slight break in traffic. If you don’t get out of your car and cross the street now, you fear you’ll stay here stuck in your thoughts all evening.

With a huff, you rip your keys from the ignition and push your door open. You cross the street, walking with a purpose, and make it to the sidewalk.

The full strength of your nerves doesn’t hit you until you’re just in front of the store and the glass door swings out with a simultaneous chime of a bell. Your heart drops from your chest to your stomach and you freeze on the sidewalk to avoid colliding with the man exiting the shop.

When he stops to hold the door open for you, it takes you a moment to gather yourself. You mutter a ‘thank you’ as your hand firmly grips the cool metal of the door handle. Almost like you’re using it as a crutch to get you through the threshold.

Your shoes meet the shaggy mustard yellow carpet, matted down by years of customer traffic.

A woman that looks about your age greets you from behind a counter to your right. You return her half smile and she goes back to flipping through the magazine on the counter in front of her. The nametag on her floral shirt reads ‘Nora’. Behind her is a door with a red ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign taped to it.

Underneath the counter that she’s leaning on is a glass case holding records and cassette tapes, all marked ‘deluxe’ or ‘limited edition’. Spread out next to them are a few t-shirts, buttons, and stickers with the store logo printed on them.

You weren’t expecting it to be so quiet. Right now it seems like you and Nora are the only people in the store. The coast is clear. You can relax a bit. The adrenaline rush you were feeling on the other side of the door has now been replaced by the whirring of the air vents and David Bowie’s “Queen Bitch” playing over the speakers.

You turn to your left to take in the rest of the store, meandering into the first row of record shelves.

The large window taking up the entire front wall lets in plenty of evening sun that warms your skin through your shirt. More shelves, each one three tiers deep, line the rest of the walls and create aisles in the middle of the room.

Signs hanging from the ceiling above each section indicate the genre. The one you’re standing next to is labeled ‘new releases’ with a smaller font that reads ‘alpha by artist’. Other sections are labeled country, rock, disco, classical. Your eyes land on the back corner of the store where the funk, soul, and jazz sections are.

You make your way over while pulling your sleeves up to your elbows.

Unsure of which specific section the record you’re looking for will be in, you decide to start on one end of the corner and search all the way through to the other in hopes of finding it.

You fall into a familiar routine of searching through the first tier, then the second, leaning over to search through the top tier, and then taking a step over to start the whole process again.

Once you’re about halfway through the soul section, the bell on the door chimes again. You can’t be bothered to look, not wanting to lose your place.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

Goddamnit. Your hands freeze their movements and your heart begins to race all over again. You know exactly who just walked through that door.

“Harry,” Nora admonishes, “I finally have a date after two months and you’re gonna make me late.”

Harry’s mumbled response is drowned out by the loud creak of the door behind the counter, but judging by Nora’s gasp and the unmistakable thwack of a magazine, maybe it’s better left between the two of them.

You begin to slowly file through records again, this time not paying much attention to what you’re doing. More-so to give your hands something to do and appear busy while trying to hear the rest of their conversation.

Nora sighs, “It’s been really slow today. Hopefully it’s a slow night for you.” All you hear is some shuffling before she adds, “Oh, boss wanted me to remind you not to play the music too loud.”

“Did he? Dunno what he’s talking about,” Harry says, feigning innocence.

Nora laughs, “Whatever.”

The next thing you hear is the jingling of keys and footsteps across the carpet.

Harry raises his voice from the back room, “Are you gonna punch out?”

“Will you do it for me? I’ve gotta go.”

“Sure.”

The bell on the door rings and Nora yells from the doorway, “I left three boxes in the back for you to restock!”

“Oh thanks,” Harry yells back with sarcastic enthusiasm.

“Bye,” she sings as she walks out.

The door slams behind her. The bell’s high pitched ringing seems to hang in the air.

Silence falls on the room when the song playing over the speakers stops suddenly, making the room quiet enough to hear the traffic outside. You hear a needle drop and after a few seconds, the opening guitar notes of “Can You Get to That” by Funkadelic begin to play. The corners of your mouth turn down to fight a smile when the volume is promptly turned up much louder than what it was when you walked in.

You take a sharp breath in, realizing that you’re going to have to turn around at some point. Surely you can’t just stay in this corner and keep your back turned to him until the place closes. You don’t know what you’re going to say to him. Will he even recognize you after not seeing you for weeks?

There’s not much time to decide what to do when the sound of footsteps approaching on the carpet is getting closer to you.

Your heart leaps into your throat when you hear his voice.

“Finding everything alright?”

You turn your head to the left.

Harry is standing a few shelves apart from you with a box propped between the shelf and his hip. The sunlight from the window shines through the ends of his hair and the sleeves of his white t-shirt when he grabs a record from the box and reaches out to carefully wedge it back into the right place. You scan down to where his shirt is tucked into a pair of dark brown corduroy pants, and further down to see a pair of dirty white sneakers peeking out from the ends of the flares. When he turns his head to the box again, you notice that his mustache is significantly thinner from the last time you saw each other.

Heat rushes up your neck and onto your face when he glances up at you.

His hand pauses in the air and his eyebrows raise slightly before the corners of his mouth do the same, revealing just a hint of his dimples. His head tilts back and he blinks in surprise. “Oh… hi.”

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding when he addresses you by name. Mirroring his smile and turning your shoulders to face him, you reply, “Hi. I… didn’t know you worked here.”

A flat out lie, but thankfully he doesn’t seem too suspect about it.

He frowns and looks down at his shirt, pulling it out in front of him to reveal his nametag. “Hm. M’ afraid I do,” he says flatly.

A breathy chuckle leaves you, amused at the way he’s effortlessly making sarcastic remarks like this with you and his coworker. Quite different from the stiffly awkward interactions you’ve had with him. It’s like you’re seeing him in his natural environment. Him being at ease is having the same effect on you.

“Do you need help finding anything?” he asks, continuing his previous actions, this time with a soft smile.

“Actually, yes,” you clear your throat, “I’m looking for this specific record. I’ve looked all over for it by now. I’m pretty sure it should be in one of these sections if you have it, but...” you trail off as you cast a glance over your shoulder to the shelves you have yet to go through.

“I can take a look in our inventory. Save you some time?”

Of course. Why didn’t you just ask about that when you first walked in? “Sure. That would be great.”

Harry hoists the box into the crook of his arm with a faint grunt and you follow him over to the counter. After setting the box at the end of the countertop, he walks to the other end and reaches underneath the register, pulling out a large beat up binder with ‘inventory’ written on the spine.

It lands on the counter with a plop, probably due to the huge stack of paper inside, separated by multicolored tabs.

“What’s the artist’s name?” he asks after opening the binder to the first page.

“The Equatics.”

He pulls on the ‘A’ tab and folds it over.

“Oh, sorry, it’s Equatics with an ‘E’.”

He tuts and shakes his head before tracing his finger down and pulling on the ‘E’ tab. “Equatics with an ‘E’,” he mumbles.

You fold your lips between your teeth.

Now you’re thankful for the loud music filling the room as you’re standing wordlessly in front of the counter watching him flip through the pages of the inventory binder. Hair hangs in front of his face as his head is tilted down to scan over the pages, all filled with scribbles, arrows, and notes in the margins written in blue, black, and red ink. It all means nothing to you, especially looking at it upside down. You can only imagine how tedious it must be to keep up with.

With his left hand pressed flat against the counter, the expanse of his arm is right in front of you. Hopefully he can’t feel your eyes surveying his tattoos, at least the ones you can see from this angle. A small cross on his hand, an anchor on his wrist, the tail of a mermaid, a delicate rose near his elbow, a heart just beneath the hem of his t-shirt.

He inhales sharply and clears his throat into his fist, “Looks like we do have it. It’s actually in our as-is section.” As he’s speaking, he spins the binder in your direction and slides his finger almost to the bottom of the page to point out where it lists the artist, album title, and the section it’s in.

Despite the relief that comes with finally finding something you’ve been searching for, your face falls a bit. You know that ‘as-is’ is often just a nice way of saying that something is heavily used. “Does that mean it’s… damaged?”

Harry hums and tilts his head to the side, not meeting your eyes until he responds.

“Not always. Honestly we’re pretty much required to put stuff in that section even if it’s just the sleeve that’s messed up. Sometimes the record itself is still in great condition. You can still find some good stuff in there.”

“Okay. Where’s the as-is section?” You don’t remember seeing a sign for it when you walked in, unless you just overlooked it.

“Right. It's, uh, down this hallway here. Kind of hidden.”

Harry rounds the end of the counter and you follow him over to a doorway covered with a ruby red beaded curtain. Harry pulls it to the side and steps through first, pausing to hold the curtain back for you. You mutter a ‘thanks’ and step into a long hallway that extends to your right.

He releases the curtain, letting the beads crash together, before starting down the hallway.

Both walls are lined with floor to ceiling shelves full of cassette tapes, with each row of shelving just tall enough to fit their size. There’s so much packed in this long stretch of narrow space, like a condensed, fluorescent-lit cornucopia.

“I had no idea all of this was back here,” you comment, slightly dumbfounded that you probably would have overlooked this hallway entirely if it hadn’t been pointed out to you.

“Yeah, lots of people think it’s off limits because of the curtain. I need to put some signs up or something.”

As you’re walking behind Harry, you realize you were too distracted before to see print on the back of his shirt, let alone make out what it said. Bold purple font reads ‘MY MIND IS UP ON THE MOUNTAINS’ with a smaller font at the bottom that reads ‘(and i didn’t even have to climb)’. The words are surrounded by a sun, a few flowers, a picture of a mountain, and two mushrooms on the bottom.

A smirk creeps onto the corner of your mouth at how incredibly on the nose it seems for him. It makes you wonder if anyone here knows about his other job, or if he’s hiding in plain sight.

Once you’re both about a third of the way down the hallway, there’s a gap in the shelves on the right filled by a nondescript doorway.

“Here we are.” Harry stops and reaches on the other side of the doorway to flip the light switch before stepping back and gesturing for you to walk in first.

You step into a small room. It only contains two long folding tables pushed against opposite walls. Rather than fancy, neat shelves, the records here are stored in milk crates and cardboard boxes lined up on the tops of the tables. It almost looks like you’ve come across a garage sale.

You furrow your eyebrows and purse your lips to the side as you walk up to the first box at the end of the table closest to the door. When you reach in, Harry speaks up.

“I could help you look for a bit, if you want.”

Harry’s now leaning against the doorframe, running a hand against his jaw. Do you see a slight tinge of pink creeping onto his cheeks as well?

“I don’t really have anything better to do. Plus this section... isn’t really organized,” he continues.

You bring your attention back to the box in front of you, a sharp breath escaping your nose when you turn the Johnny Cash record back to reveal a Mozart one behind it. “I can see that.”

“But if you want to look around by yourself I understand, I can leave you to it,” he says, already slightly backing up into the hallway.

“No, I wouldn’t mind the company. You could take that table and I’ll take this one?” Your own words surprise you as you’re speaking them. Moments ago you had been dreading crossing paths with him again, but now that you’re having a moment that feels comfortable, you find yourself wanting him to stick around longer.

A curiosity is growing in your mind, wondering if Harry is feeling the same way, if that’s why he offered to help, if that’s why he slowly joins you in the room and mirrors your position at the table behind you so you’re not standing back to back.

You both search through the crates without a word, only the faint sound of the music from the front room coming down the hallway. Meanwhile, your thoughts are going back and forth between Jenny insisting that this man likes you and talking yourself out of that idea, insisting that he’s simply being nice, doing his job.

“How have you been?”

The question catches you off guard, taking a moment to realize that he’s actually said it out loud. “Um. I’ve been good. Nothing exciting going on, just working a lot. You?”

“I’m alright, thanks. I’ve been working a lot too. Where do you work? Don’t think I’ve asked you.”

“Do you ever listen to KIIS-FM?”

“Yes?” He responds, possibly thinking that you’re trying to shift the subject.

You smile to yourself, “You’re welcome. I’m a sound engineer there.”

“Oh shit,” he says enthusiastically. “That’s really cool. Do you like it?”

Briefly turning to look at him, your smile grows wider when you read the interest and excitement on his face. An expression you’re seeing for the first time in him, and it's because of something about you. Your heart flutters and you turn back to your table.

“Most days, I do. It can be a real dick fest sometimes though. Not in a good way.”

Despite mumbling the last sentence, Harry seems to still pick it up.

He barks out a laugh. You turn, eyes wide, to see his shoulders shaking and him covering his mouth with his hand.

When he turns back to you, clearly making a lot of effort to compose himself, he places his hand over his heart. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh yeah, the way you laughed really convinced me,” you lightheartedly roll your eyes.

“No it’s just… the way you said it was really funny,” he says, chuckling through his words. He continues, “So you studied engineering at UCLA then?”

Your eyebrows crease as his words hang in the air. You guess it’s not wild to assume that people who live in L.A. have attended UCLA. However, since you’ve never mentioned any kind of schooling to Harry, you can only gather that he’s making that assumption from the UCLA t-shirt you were wearing when he showed up at your house.

“I thought I remembered Jenny mentioning that you both went there.” His tone is cautious now, hesitant even. Like he’s picked up on his own blunder.

You decide to brush over it and simply nod, “Yeah, that’s how we met, actually.”

You return to looking through the crate in front of you. You gasp when you see the familiar red cover of the album you’re looking for.

You feel Harry turn around behind you. “Find it?”

You pull it from the crate. The bold red cover with a blue-grey circle in the middle, running your finger over the lines and arrows creating rings around it with a few stars placed here and there. You turn to smile at Harry, holding up the record in place of an answer, too excited to form words. The paper dust liner crinkles as you slide the plastic disc from the sleeve. Holding it by the edges, you tilt it to the left, to the right, and hold it up closer to the light to inspect it. Your shoulders visibly fall when you spot a long scratch running from the middle to the edge.

“Oh no,” you whisper, bringing the record closer to your face. You lightly run your finger over the scratch. It doesn’t feel rough, you actually can’t feel it at all. A fraction of hope is restored knowing that the scratch isn’t too deep into the grooves. However, there’s no way to know if it’s unplayable unless you actually try to play it.

Harry seems to read your mind. “You could test it out on the player up front if you want.”

“Really?” You spin around, seeming to shock him judging by the way his upper body slightly jerks back. “I mean-- I would appreciate that. If it’s not too much--”

He shakes his head, “It’s not a problem.” He walks toward the door where he waits for you to gather everything up.

The front of the store quiet once you both emerge from the other side of the curtain.

“I liked your choice of work music, by the way,” you say once you’ve both made it back to the counter, hugging your record to your chest.

“Oh yeah, Maggot Brain. S’ a fun album.”

You lean forward to rest your forearms against the smooth wood of the counter, waiting while he takes the record off the player to make room for yours. “Do you listen to a lot of funk music?”

“I do. I’ve never really understood why some people aren’t into it. What’s not to love, right?”

“Exactly! My coworker showed me this album and I think it’s one of my favorites now. It was recorded by this group of high school students in seventy two. They won some studio time in a contest or something and they really made the most of it.”

“Hm. M’ excited to listen to it now.” He stretches his hand out, “I’ll take that.”

You hand over the album. “Could you start it on track two? I think that’s my favorite one.”

“Sure.” He places the record on the player and carefully moves the needle in place.

A warm feeling washes over you when you hear the familiar soft guitar and drum beat at the beginning of the song. You both stand in place as the bass line comes in and all of the instruments’ parts crescendo.

Once the beat drops and the main guitar comes in, Harry turns to you with raised eyebrows and an impressed smile.

“Amazing, right?” you ask through a chuckle.

“It’s really good.”

“I know! And I don’t notice the scratch at all. It sounds perfect.”

“S’ exciting. I’m glad you found it.”

He walks over to where you are and starts to inspect the sleeve, turning it over to read the back. He adopts a similar position as you, forearms resting on the counter as he taps his fingers on his bicep to the beat of the song.

“That guitar part is amazing.”

He’s leaning close enough now that you can see a hint of stubble along his jawline and his upper lip. His cologne, a swirl of vanilla and something else you can’t quite put your finger on. He looks up when you don’t respond and you avert your eyes immediately.

“I think so too,” you mumble.

“I find it crazy how something really amazing can be right in front of you for so long and you never notice it or you just keep missing it.” A pause. “This has been in the back room for… I don’t even know how long, and I probably never would have listened to it if you hadn’t been looking for it.” Another brief pause as he scratches at his chin, seeming to be in deep thought. He shakes his head, “I don’t know. Maybe that’s weird, but I think about that kind of thing a lot.”

“I don’t think it’s weird. That can happen with… so many things, too.”

“Like people.”

His eyes quickly dance over your face. You swear they linger on your lips for a second before returning to meet your eyes.

“Like people,” you repeat. “And I think it is good to think about that stuff from time to time but… it can get overwhelming. Sometimes it could even distract you from the things you’re enjoying now.”

Your eyes do the same motions, glancing all over his face, lingering on his lips, and then back to his eyes. This feels extremely reminiscent of the night you were sitting outside of the Forum, when you were practically nose to nose after you had taken a whiff of his hair. You had been telling yourself that the gravitational pull you felt that night was solely induced by the shrooms. However, you seem to be feeling it again now as your eyes trace over the plane of his cheek, the tip of his nose, the arch of his lip.

A slight crease between his eyebrows slightly contradicts the almost tender look in his eyes. He opens his mouth like he’s about to speak.

Unfortunately he’s interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone on the wall behind him.

You flinch at the sudden noise and Harry huffs in annoyance before clearing his throat into his fist.

He walks over to the player to turn the music down before answering the phone with a simple, clipped “Jupiter House.”

He covers the receiver with his hand and mouths ‘sorry’ to you before holding up a finger and going into the back room, closing the door until it's just cracked behind him.

You release a heavy sigh and rub your temples.

After a short conversation, Harry comes back and hangs up the phone.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbles, untangling the cord from his fingers. “Are you happy with this, then?” He asks, pointing to the record player.

“Uh- yes. Yes. I am.”

You go through the transaction in silence, watching the way Harry slides your record into a brown paper bag and the way he makes your change. At this moment, you’re wishing Harry came with a cartoon thought bubble over his head so you could know what he’s thinking right now. What exactly did he mean when he said ‘like people’? What was he about to say before he was interrupted?

He carefully folds and creases the paper, but instead of handing it over, he pauses, hands poised on the top of the bag.

“Sorry, I forgot something.” He opens the bag again and crouches down behind the counter.

“What--”

Before you can get your question out, his hand reaches into the glass case between you, hovering over the merchandise that you noticed when you first walked in. He picks out a button and a sticker. You hear them drop into the bag before he pops up from behind the counter.

“You didn’t have to--”

“I know.”

His smile and his voice are reassuring, absolving your confusion in a matter of seconds.

“Thanks for your help. It was nice running into you,” you smile, taking the bag and holding the record to your chest once again.

“Take care. I’ll see you around.” He smiles.

You back away from the counter and push open the door. The bell rings in your ears one last time.

*********************************************

thank you so much for reading!!

if you enjoyed part 2, please remember that reblogs and/or nice messages mean the world to fic writers. <3

you can find my masterlist here and my inbox here

-> STAY TUNED FOR PART 3 <-

#shroomrry #my writing #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles reader insert #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #drugs tw #alcohol tw

290 notes · View notes

headinthestaticsky · 3 years

Text

Extras for The Dusk Calls for me.

Authors Note: While I plan out the next few chapters of my story, enjoy these memories I did for the re-write I did on Wattpad.

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions and a attempt of SA

Time: This Takes place a year before the beginning of The Dusk Calls for me.

"Makes me feel like flying

Top-down backstreet driving Dusty road all alone

Tip my hat Puff of smoke, smoke

Makes me feel like flying

I just run ."

American Gurl by: Kilo Kish

I was finally out, those words of bile my mother and sister spew toward me finally pushed me over the edge. Yet those words finally got me back with my father in Forks, where I always belonged.

Flashback: One Week Ago.

"FLEUR! GET DOWN HERE NOW!" My erratic mother Renee yelled from downstairs.

My heart started beating out of my chest, what did I do this time? I walked into the dining room, Renee and Isabella were sitting at the table across from where I was sitting. Bella had a smirk on her face relishing in the tension between Renee and I.

"Yes?" I asked.

"You always have to cause trouble don't you?' She replied back, malice laced her voice.

"What? What are you even talking about?"

"Bella told me you've been saving money to go see your father in Forks." She spat at me.

My rapidly beating heart sunk down into my stomach, I had been trying to see my dad in Forks for a year now. My mother refused to get me a plane ticket herself, she always told me I reminded her too much of my father and that I didn't need to be around him anymore than I already was which wasn't often.

"Mother, it's my money I can do with it as I please," I said calmly though I could feel the rage beginning to boil in my blood.

"YOU AREN'T GOING!" She yelled demandingly.

I couldn't control myself, it was as if someone else had entered my body.

"WHAT IN THE HELL IS SO WRONG FOR WANTING TO SEE MY FATHER!?"

"I'M NOT GOING TO WASTE THAT KIND OF MONEY ON YOU!"

"Well you aren't now aren't you? It's my own money and I will use it however the hell I want to!"

"Oh don't you..." Renee started.

"Are you going to tell me you would be doing the same thing if Bella was the one wanting to go see dad?"

"She isn't a trouble maker." She snapped back.

"How am I a trouble maker? For wanting my mother to be kind and considerate? For wanting my mother to treat me with respect? To get an ounce of love from the frozen, undead heart inside your chest?" I asked, my face heated up it felt like it was burning.

"If you can't stand to be around us so much why don't you just move down there to Forks?"

"I will, just give me the rest of the money for the plane ticket and I swear to god the second I walk out that door I will NEVER come back!"

"Fine..." I turned away from her before she could say anything else. Before I reached the stairs I turned around again, looking directly at Bella.

"Get away from her while you can Isabella, or you're going to end up being just as toxic as she is." I then left before they could say anything else.

Flashback over: 2 years before the Original story begins.

I looked to the side, staring out the window. The desert plains had disappeared while I slept and now the lush green forests overtook the view. The fog wasn't heavy but the skies were covered with dark grey clouds and a downpour of rain. The cold weather was a lot more favorable in my opinion, the sun couldn't burn my skin much here. The plane had begun to shake signaling that the plane was beginning to land. I couldn't wait to see my father again, I hadn't seen him since my 12th birthday. When I got off the plane I stretched, being cramped in a small plane for an almost 3-hour flight wasn't exactly the most comfortable.

I walked through the crowded airport, scanning the area for my father. I bumped into some disgruntled couples and quickly left before I was caught in the crossfires of their mood.

"Petal?" I heard from behind me. I turned around quickly recognizing that voice, it could calm me down before I got into trouble.

"Dad..." I said fondly before running up to hug him.

My heartfelt I little more full, and the pain my mother inflicted on me was healed for the time being. We walked out together, each of us was carrying a bag. The wind was strong today and my hair was flying all of the places. Its cooling touch raised goosebumps on my skin, mom didn't buy any warmer clothes for me so I was stuck in the typical Arizona tank tops and shorts. Luckily for me, the car was already warmed up so I dethawed quickly. We drove for a few minutes in silence, the roar of the engine and other passing cars were the only sounds filling the space.

"So, how have you been? I feel like I haven't seen you in a while." Dad said.

"I've been better, you know how mom is," I mumbled.

"I don't know what happened to her, she wasn't like that in high school. If she was I wouldn't have even wasted a second on her."

"I know you would've dad...she's cruel for sure. She's just good at hiding it from people she wants to impress."

"Yeah, she is."

The drive was a giant wave of nostalgia, being 16 now and seeing all of the familiar sites and views brought back fond memories. The old ice cream shop dad use to take me to, the reservation that Sam and Leah lived on, it all brought me back. It also fueled anger, however, as my mother constantly kept me under the brutal radiation of the sun. Dad must've seen the look on my face and put his hand on my shoulder.

"It's going to be okay Petal, you're away from her now." He comforted.

"It's not just her dad... Bella's acting like her too."

"That's a shame... it really is."

"Yeah... it is." I sighed.

"I just can't wait to get back home, the attic is calling for me."

Dad chuckled before speaking again.

"You know... I heard you just got your license... So I got you an older car."

"You did not have to do that dad."

"It doesn't get in until next week, so I'll have to drive you to school until then," Dad said as if that would balance out the fact he got me a car.

"That's fine dad. What is it?"

"It's an old Mustang, a Fastback."

"Thank you, dad..."

"No problem Petal.

When we pulled into the driveway of our small but beautiful home the nostalgia fully set in. The colors were exactly the same, and the grass was just as muddy and dead as before.

"Well I cleared off some shelves for you in the bathroom, your room was a bit dusty so I just cleaned it for you," Dad explained as he helped me take my luggage upstairs.

"Sounds good, thank you again, dad, I love you."

"Love you too Petal." He kissed my head before closing the door behind me. The room was bare, I would have to fix it later on. I collapsed on my bed, facing the ceiling.

"I'm home."

September 17th, 2004.

"Dad I have to go, I don't want to be late on my first day!" I exclaimed throwing on a leather jacket.

"Petal I am almost ready, I never knew you were so much of a bookworm." He joked, ruffling my hair.

"Dad I am an entire school year ahead of where I should be... I take my education very seriously." I said, trying to hide the growing smirk on my face.

"Alright alright let's go," Dad said, taking my arm and pulling me out the door.

We were only driving for a little bit when I decided to roll the window down, I placed my arms on where the window used to be and rested my head on them. My hair blew out of my face and the cool mist of Forks hit me. When we arrived at the school dad was scanning the parking lot looking for a place to park when he passed right by a group of people. They were all gorgeous, their faces seemingly perfectly sculpted, and they all had the same colored eyes, golden. My eyes locked with one however, they were filled with pain for a second before melting into shock. something strange filled my chest and my heart began to race. As we drove past them I gave him a smile, hoping to ease his shock.

Timeskip: September 30th, 2004

Something was up, the boy I saw outside that window, Jasper Hale was more than what he seemed. He was freezing cold all the time, and I swore I saw his eyes turn black for a split second when he saw a boy from another make a gesture toward me. It was strange really, we had been friends for a few weeks but he seemingly had a protective...energy over me. But at the same time, I still felt something... I couldn't explain it. It was as if we were connected to each other in some way. My dad had to take my car to the shop and he couldn't pick me up today so I decided to take a trip to the library, hoping to find some new material to read.

I didn't realize how long I had been in the library until I looked out of the small windows of the building. The sky was darkened and daylight was running out, I checked out a few books and left not wanting to be stuck walking in the night. I was a few blocks home when I heard 3 men talking behind me.

"Oh looks at this one..."

"She seems perfect for us."

"Come here girly... we just want to talk."

My heart raced and my pace quickened, speed walking home. I tried taking weird turns and cuts but they wouldn't fall for the bait. I decided to run for it hoping my legs would be quick enough to evade them all. I was then pushed against the wall 2 minutes into my escape again, the smell of alcohol made me want to retch.

"You aren't very good at listening to orders." One murmured, his face was inches away from me, he breathed in my scent and began to chuckle.

"Don't be too hard on her... I like ones that fight." Another said

"Make this easy on yourself girl..."

One reached down to take off my clothes when he was suddenly thrown back a few feet into the air. I just stood against the wall shocked, I saw Jasper standing over the man before making his way over to the other two men. They both took off leaving their "friend" behind but Jasper zoomed toward them. His speed was inhuman and his strength was unprecedented yet I couldn't stop myself from moving from my spot. The other two men were flown into the air and scream on impact. Jasper grabbed them both by the throats.

"If you EVER try to touch her or any woman for that matter like that again... I. will. kill. you!" He growled before releasing them down on the ground. They gasped and ran again, babbling in terror toward one another.

Jasper walked toward me with a guilty look on his face, his hand reached out for mine and I took it without even thinking.

"Come with me Darlin' I have a lot to explain to you." He said softly, his mood had completely changed with me.

We walked for a few moments in silence, I side-eyed him for any shift in behavior, when it didn't I decided to interrogate him.

"How did you do that?" My voice trembled.

He sighed before replying.

"I'm a vampire." He said blatantly.

I looked at him and laughed thinking it was a joke... when he didn't join I stopped and looked at him with shock.

"You're serious?" I said, my eyes widening again.

"Yes I am, I've been 17 for...141 years. I got changed during the Civil War."

"Damn... you're old... wait were you in the Civil War?"

"Yes, I was drafted to the Confederate Army when I was 17..."

"Yikes..."

"You're telling me, I ran away the first chance I got... I wasn't going to fight in some war that was fueled by warped and disgusting ideas just because I was forced to. I never thought the way they did... I never understood why someone could think so low of a human being just because of his skin."

"That's very brave of you."

"I had just made it to Galveston when I decided to take a break... I ended up on a beach... that's when I ran into an immortal named Maria. She was creating an army and decided that I would be a good fit for it."

"She changed you against your will?"

"I didn't even know what she was doing until I felt searing pains from my arms all the way up to my neck." He explained rolling up his sleeves and showing me his scars."

I traced the teeth marks on his forearm before looking up at him again.

"I'm sorry that happened to you..."

He looked up at me in shock.

"You... you feel sympathy for something like me? I'm a monster..." He said sincerely.

"It wasn't even your choice as to what you became... and I don't think a monster would've saved me back there. Face it, Jasper, you're a big softie who's had bad experiences in his long... long life."

He chuckled before glancing at me, we made it back to the house, dad still wasn't home yet. We walked into the backyard, sitting in patio chairs and looking up at the stars.

"There's something else I have to tell you." Jasper admitted in the darkness.

I looked at him in confusion, what else did he have to tell me? He's a werewolf too?

"You're..." He hesitated. "You're my mate." He said quickly.

"What? How... vampires have mates?" I asked in shock.

"Yes we do, and we instantly know when we've met them. Didn't you feel it, when you looked out that window at me? It was enamour... love, something I have never experienced before."

"I haven't either... but I have to admit I felt something too. I just didn't know what it was, I felt connected to you somehow though. But... I'm 16... falling deeply in love isn't exactly something I planned."

"I understand completely. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. I understand I am a vampire... this is a lot to take in." Jasper said lowering his head in shame, his curls covered his eyes.

I sat up and turned to him.

"Hey, hey it's not just because you're a vampire honest! I just need to think things through... we can still talk in and out of school I won't push you out." I said a bit faced-paced. I didn't want to hurt his feelings he did just save me after all.

He looked and me and grabbed my hand.

"Take all the time you need Fleur, I will accept your answer no matter what is it." He said sincerely.

"Thank you... Jasper."

"It's not any trouble." His face lit up all of the sudden, car headlights entered my line of view. I felt my hand by dropped by his cold one and a whoosh of wind flew my hair forward. I turned back around and he was gone.

Timeskip: October 16th, 2004.

It was hard, weighing the pros and cons of being with Jasper.

Pros: We were soulmates... destined to be with each other, He knew my limits and respected my boundaries, he gave me a choice, not forcing me into something I might not want to do, and he was a kind and gentle soul. We understood each other, our hearts and souls were connected and I would never find someone else I would be so close to.

Cons: He was a creature who thirsted for blood... a thirst he didn't always have the best control over, Being in a serious relationship at such a young age was a huge commitment I didn't even fully know who I was... would I ever be able to find out who I am being so committed to someone If I did become involved in a relationship two things would happen... I would die and leave him lonely for eternity, or I would be turned into a vampire... leaving my family behind.

My mulling over of the pros and cons was interrupted, a girl had cleared her throat. I looked up realizing I was still in the school library, standing in the back of the constant isles of books. I turned to the voice and my eyes were shocked to see Rosalie Hale looking at me.

"Rosalie? Is there something you need?" I asked.

"Let's go for a walk, I need to talk to you in private." She said she seemed tense about something.

I checked out the books I got before following her to the outside, we walked near the edge of the woods. The dead leaves and grass crunched underneath our feet.

"I know Jasper told you about us... and he told me that you wanted to think somethings over with him." She started.

"Hey... I just wanted to let you know I would never tell anyone about you guys... And I'm not trying to hurt Jasper with me thinking our relationship over. It's just a lot of process." By the time I finished that statement she laughed and patted my shoulder.

"Don't worry Fleur I completely understand why you want to think over some things... I would too if I were in your shoes. Besides, I trust you... I get a good vibe off of you." Rosalie replied smiling at me.

"I want to get into a relationship with Jasper I do but... I don't want to leave my father... he's all I got right now and I'm all he's got."

"Hey, I promise no one would force you into becoming a vampire in our family... I especially wouldn't force you to."

"Really?"

"Yes of course... It's nice to meet someone with a respect for mortality."

"It's just... I always to do certain things... like going to that art school in Cayon City Oregon... the Art Museums down there are amazing... and I always wanted to kid when I was older... a little boy." I explained smiling fondly at the thought.

"I did too... I always wanted a son."

"But at the same time... I wouldn't want to spend all my time with Jasper... only to leave him alone for eternity you know?" I asked her hoping she would get my point of view.

"Of course... I can tell you've been conflicted these past few weeks about it. But I wanted to vouch for Jasper... he's willing to do anything for you, and his thirst for blood has never been more controlled than when he's been with you. He won't take you away from your family either... he would never want to hurt you in any way possible." She explains turning toward me to look me in the eyes so the message could really sink in.

"Thanks, Rosalie..."

"Of course...give Jasper a chance, I promise it'll be worth it." She said.

"I will... I'll talk to him tonight, thanks for the guidance."

"No problem."

Timeskip: October 16th, 2004: 10:12 PM

Dad was gone, he had to work late down at the station tonight. My palms and legs shook nervous to tell Jasper my decision. I was sitting in the same spot I was in when Jasper told me I was his soulmate... the cool air calmed my nerves slightly before I closed my eyes and sighed.

"Fleur? You said you wanted to talk to me... are you okay?" Jasper's voice asked worryingly behind my closed lids.

"Yeah, I'm fine... I just wanted to give you an answer about... everything."

He sat down adjacent to me and nodded, wanting me to continue.

"I will get into a relationship with you... thank you for giving me the time to think about things."

He smiled before asking me if he could kiss my cheek. I said yes of course and it seemed my body melted in bliss and content. All the past weeks' tensions and worrying left me and it was replaced with love... and a sense of stability. We looked up at the stars and I pointed toward the largest one in the sky.

"You see that one?" I said.

"Yes, I do Darlin'."

"That is the star of the path I started with you..."

#twilight saga #twilight #jasper whitlock x oc #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x oc #jasper whitlock #jasper cullen #jasper hale #jacob black #esme cullen #edward cullen #carlisle cullen #alice cullen #rosalie hale #Emmett Cullen #bella swan

25 notes · View notes

lunaslethifold · 4 years

Text

A Summer in Ottery St. Catchpole: Prologue (George Weasley x Potter!Reader)

Pairing: George Weasley x Female!Potter!Reader

Series Synopsis: Y/N Potter used to have a huge crush on George Weasley. She could hardly even function around him. Now fresh out of a long relationship, she can say with confidence that those feelings she harbored for years are gone. George, on the other hand, had barely even acknowledged her existence. But now that Y/N is more comfortable around him, he starts to see the real her. George starts to see her in a new light. Boy, is that bad news for him.

Warnings: Mentions of death.

Word Count: ~8.4k (Sorry! Future parts probably won’t be this long.)

Find the other works in this series in my masterlist (pinned and linked in my bio :))

A/N: Welcome to my new George Weasley series about this trope! Some things to note: I made the reader female because I am more comfortable writing that. The reader is in Gryffindor because it fits better with the story. I know it can be frustrating to read something that doesn’t fit you correctly and I’m very sorry! I also decided to make the reader adopted because not everyone looks like Harry, James, or Lily. I know I certainly don’t! This series takes place the summer after Goblet of Fire and before Order of the Phoenix, and will not be following canon completely to make room for the reader. I’ve no idea how long the other parts are going to be, but they probably won’t be this lengthy as this part covers the entire backstory. This is also the first fanfiction I’ve written in years, so please let me know what you think! Sorry about any off grammar and please enjoy! Thank you for reading!

The first time George Weasley laid eyes on Y/N Potter was on the day he was set to return for his 2nd year at Hogwarts. This time around he was more confident approaching the platform than he was his first year, but that wasn't saying much. On their first ride on the train, he and Fred had already started wreaking havoc on Percy and Charlie.

George grinned at the other people waiting around the train. In particular, the first years that looked like they were about to pass out. His eyes landed on a girl that was standing alone, almost hugging the bar on her trolley.

He nudged Fred. "Mate, does she look familiar to you?" he said, tilting his head in the direction of the girl.

"Dunno, maybe we saw her at Diagon Alley?" Fred offered, shrugging and turning his attention back to the chocolate frog in his hand. George glanced at the girl one last time and jumped into a conversation with Ginny.

The first year didn't cross George's mind again until he was sitting in the great hall watching the sorting ceremony. He wasn't paying much attention, too preoccupied with the rumbling in his stomach, until he heard Professor McGonagall call out a name he hadn't heard in a long time.

"Y/N Potter."

She wasn't nearly as famous as her brother, sure, but that didn't stop the whispers from breaking out among the students. Professor McGonagall not so subtly cleared her throat and the hall quieted as the girl that caught his eye on the platform approached the stool. That's where he had seen her! Pictures of her and her family were all over the papers after the dark lord was defeated. She was much older now, yes, but the remnants of her younger self were still present on her face. Especially her eyes, George thought, but he quickly shook it out of his mind.

Perhaps he had been the one to recognize her because he'd seen photos of her long after they were the only thing being printed in the papers. Ginny kept a stash of things related to Harry Potter in her room and he had accidentally stumbled upon it. Maybe that's why Ginny only talked to him about Harry, or maybe it's because George was the only one who stopped to listen.

The entire Weasley family was close, but the twins and Ginny got along great. That might've been due to the fact that Bill and Charlie were much older than them and many of their pranks were directed at Percy and Ron. While many people thought of Fred and George as a package deal, which they were in a sense, it seemed that Ginny was one of the only people to think of him as his own person. Somehow she recognized the differences and George appreciated that beyond what words can express.

He'd have to write Ginny about Harry Potter's sister coming to Hogwarts. The sorting hat seemed to be having a toss up about which house Y/N belonged to. He recalled the conversation he'd had with the old hat just last year. George was a Weasley; a Gryffindor through and through. But when the hat was placed on his head, it spoke about him having Slytherin and even Ravenclaw traits. Ultimately he was placed into Gryffindor just as the rest of his family had, though.

After a couple minutes of debate the sorting hat yelled out, "Gryffindor!" Y/N looked almost relieved and joined the Gryffindor table, not too far away from George and Fred. The rest of the sorting ceremony was uneventful and soon enough (though not soon enough for the twins), the food appeared on the plates before them.

A couple of times George caught his gaze slipping towards Y/N out of curiosity. Once their eyes met, he smiled at her. She gave him a nervous smile back and quickly turned back to her food. He thought it was a bit odd but brushed it off and continued to joke with Fred and Lee.

Y/N and George didn't see much of each other that year. They were in different years and Y/N seemed to spend more time out of the common room than in it. Him and his brother made the quidditch team as beaters, and occasionally he'd see her in the stands.

So no, Y/N Potter and George Weasley were not friends. He couldn't even remember if he'd spoken to her before. That year flew by just as his first year did, and then he found himself on the train back home.

Next year Ron would be joining them at Hogwarts and Charlie wouldn't be coming back. That summer was spent playing quidditch with his siblings, teasing Percy for becoming a prefect, and going down to the village near the burrow.

Y/N, on the other hand, was not having a good summer like the Weasleys. She had returned to the Dursleys’, but she was beyond ecstatic to see her little brother again. When she left for her first year at Hogwarts she had felt extremely guilty for leaving Harry alone and even went as far as to write Dumbledore asking if he could come a year early. He had reassured her that he would be fine and she should take the opportunity to see the world their parents lived in.

Harry and Y/N weren't blood related, but they knew they were real siblings regardless. Similarly, Lily and James Potter were Y/N's mom and dad, even though their blood didn't run through her. Y/N's biological mom was Lily's best friend since the moment they met on the Hogwarts Express. She clashed with Snape, but remained loyal to Lily through it all. Not long after graduating she got married to Y/N's dad due to the brewing war. Lily and James were made the godparents of Y/N and weeks after her birth, her parents and their entire family were killed by death eaters. She was taken in immediately by the Potters and assumed their last name for safety. Soon little Harry came along and Y/N became a big sister.

Unfortunately, as Voldemort set out with the intent of killing Harry, Lily and James' attempt to keep Y/N safe was put in jeopardy. The family of four went into hiding together. They were betrayed and the dark lord came to their home in Godric's Hollow. Lily knew that he was after Harry, not Y/N, and kept her promise to Y/N's biological parents that she'd keep her safe. Y/N was shoved into the closet in her and Harry's room, along with a muffling charm to silence her cries. That night not only did she hear her father getting killed, she saw her mother die trying to protect her younger brother through the shutters on the door. She heard her mother's cries and saw an evil, evil man try to murder her brother. Even though she was only two, Y/N possesses more memories of their parents and that night than Harry does.

This resulted in Y/N becoming extremely protective of Harry. Oftentimes this would cause her to get into trouble with the Dursleys. She was Harry's fiercest protector. When an escort came to collect her for Hogwarts, both her and Harry were introduced to magic and what their parents really were. She almost didn't go because she couldn't bear the thought of Harry having to deal with their relatives without her, but she eventually agreed. An escort brought her and her luggage to platform nine and three quarters on September first, but had to rush off right after. There she stood alone with her trolley, unsure of where to go or who to talk to. She surveyed the people around and her eyes landed on a group of redheads, most of them being children. The ones that were commanding the most attention were two twin boys, one of which was fiddling with a wrapper and one who had the brightest grin she had ever seen. She stared at him for a second before rapidly looking away. What she hadn't noticed after was the boy she was staring at was now looking at her.

On the train she didn't have much luck either, meeting a few students but ultimately sitting alone in a compartment reading a book. There was no telltale sign that she was a Potter, unlike her brother, who had the scar on his forehead. At the sorting ceremony, however, people began to take notice of her when they heard her name. The sorting hat had a long conversation with her about what house she belonged in. The big argument was about Gryffindor or (house of choice), but Y/N asked to be put in Gryffindor, like her parents.

Y/N took a seat at the Gryffindor table, trying to shake off everyone talking about and looking at her. The rest of the sorting ceremony went by and soon everyone was digging into the feast. Katie Bell, a fellow first year Gryffindor, struck up a conversation with Y/N and others around her. She relaxed a little and surveyed the rest of her housemates. Her eyes unexpectedly met those of the boy who she had been staring at on the platform. His lips turned up into a smile and a wave of anxiety crashed onto the girl. She smiled shakily at him and felt her cheeks warm up. Y/N quickly turned her attention back to the food sitting on her plate, which seemed quite interesting to her at the moment.

The rest of that year passed by quicker than she liked and soon enough she was back at the Dursley household. She was happy to see Harry, but Hogwarts was now more home than Privet Drive had ever been. The only thing missing was her brother, but he was due to follow right after the summer.

So it couldn't be going by any slower.

Between her uncle's shouting and her summer reading, she quickly found herself wishing the break would zoom by. She thought she was used to it, but she was getting fed up with Vernon and Petunia's constant nagging.

"Clean the kitchen!"

"Set the table!"

"Dust the living room!"

"Hurry up with dinner!"

Y/N would never admit it, but quite a few times she had to put her wand out of reach when it all became too much. Especially when Harry was getting the heat. She'd much rather have all the yelling directed at her than Harry.

September first rolled around and Y/N was accompanied by Harry to King’s Cross. Hagrid had dropped them off and left. As they pushed their trolleys through the station, Y/N found herself quite turned around. Which platforms was it between? Which wall were they supposed to enter through? Last time her escort had to apparate her and her things onto the platform because they were running behind schedule. Now she was wishing she had paid more attention because she couldn't for the life of her find the dang entrance.

Both of the Potter kids were growing nervous as the time ticked closer to departure. Just as it seemed all hope was lost, a familiar head, or rather heads, of red hair caught Y/N's eye. She looked at them and Harry followed her gaze. The Weasley family was moving through King’s Cross at a rapid speed.

As they passed, Harry and Y/N heard a snippet of their conversation. "-packed with muggles-" said the oldest woman.

"Muggles?" Harry whispered, turning to his sister. "Isn't that… Well come on then!" He raced after the woman.

"Harry! Wait!" Y/N ran after him and by the time she caught up he was already talking to them. Y/N shook her head. Why couldn't Harry have just followed them onto the platform? Why'd he have to stop and talk to them? She'd never say it out loud, but Harry wasn't always the brightest when it came to things like this.

Before them stood five people, presumably all family members. An older woman, three of Y/N's housemates, and a younger boy.

"Excuse me," Harry said to them as Y/N approached. "Dyknow how to-" he gulped and tried again. "How to-”

"Get onto the platform?" finished the woman. Harry blushed a little bit and nodded. She gave him a kind smile. "Yes, of course dear. Don't worry, it's Ron's first year too," She gestured to the younger boy that stood nearby. He half smiled at them.

Harry smiled brightly back. "I'm Harry."

"Ron Weasley."

Then it seemed everyone turned to Y/N expectedly. Her mouth went dry and she shifted on her feet.

"And you're Y/N, right?" spoke up one of the twins. Was it Fred or George? She nodded shyly and fiddled with the hem of her shirt. Why was she nervous all of a sudden? Maybe she wasn't as outgoing as Harry, but she was never this shy.

"Well, it's nice to meet you two. Now to get onto the platform, you just run straight into the wall there. Percy, you show them," said their mom, breaking the silence. The oldest one, Percy, who Y/N recognized as three years above her, ran to the wall and disappeared through it. "See? Just like that. Now you, Fred."

"He's not Fred, I am!" said the twin who spoke earlier. Ah, so Fred had introduced Y/N.

"Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother," said the other twin.

"Oh! Sorry George." She beckoned him forward.

He walked forward and spoke again. "'I’m only joking, I am Fred." Fred smiled and ran through the wall. Oh, so it was George that had introduced Y/N after all.

"Can I go next, mum?" said Ron.

"Yes, and Harry, why don't you go with him?" she replied. Ron and Harry ran towards the wall. Something small slipped off Ron's trolley without him knowing.

"Ron!" his mother called, picking it up and running after him through the passage. Now it was just George and Y/N.

"Did you really not know how to get onto the platform? Or did you just want an excuse to talk to me?" he laughed and grinned at her.

Y/N felt heat rush to her cheeks. "Erm… I-" she cleared her throat. "Last year my escort apparated me onto the platform," She looked at her shoes.

His smile didn't falter at her awkwardness. "Ah, that explains it. Well, have a go at the platform then."

George and Y/N saw a little bit more of each other during Harry and Ron's first year. Often she could be found talking with Harry, Ron, and even Hermione around the fire. He could tell that they had a really close relationship.

Sometimes they'd be hanging out or sitting with the same group, but only because of their siblings or Katie Bell, Y/N's friend, who was now on the quidditch team along with Harry. He started to see Y/N in the stands during games much more often now, probably because her brother and friend were playing.

George thought Y/N was, well, a bit odd. She was awkward, much more than her brother who got on quite well with him and his twin. She always seemed to be tripping over her words and fidgeting when he saw her. But she was the same way her first year, so he just boiled it down to her being shy.

The first time since Y/N's sorting that George thought about her for more than a few fleeting seconds was at the end of that year. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had returned after stopping Professor Quirrel from getting his hands on the Sorcerer's Stone. Percy, Fred, George, and Y/N were all summoned to the hospital wing when they returned.

Y/N looked utterly distressed. She even began to walk ahead of them on the way. When they reached the hospital wing, she bolted straight for Harry on the other side of the room. She hugged him and whispered a conversation with him. Harry had smiled and seemed to reassure her.

Then, before him and his brothers even had a chance to step forward, Y/N turned towards his brother. "Oh, Ron!" she exclaimed and then pulled him into a hug, just like the one she had given Harry. Then she took his face in her hands and tried to look him over. "Are you alright?" Ron nodded and smiled at her. Y/N let go and rushed to Hermione's side.

George was taken by surprise. Sure, Harry was Y/N's brother, but she seemed just as concerned about his brother's wellbeing and Hermione's. He'd have to ask Ron about it later. George smiled, shook his head, and approached Ron's bed.

Just as the previous summer, Y/N and now Harry went back to their Aunt and Uncle's. Harry and Y/N had gotten into big trouble when Dobby the house elf came to visit. Uncle Vernon was so angry that he put bars on their shared bedroom window and forbade them from returning to Hogwarts. Luckily for them, a certain family of redheads came to the rescue.

While they were up late talking in their bedroom, they heard something out of their window. Outside was a flying Ford Angelina, driven by Fred Weasley, with his brothers George and Ron sitting in the car. They ripped the bars out of their place on the wall and pulled up to the window.

"Ron!" Harry smiled widely at him. Y/N couldn't stop the grin that grew on her face. "What are you doing here?"

"We've come to rescue you, of course! Now c'mon and get your trunks," Ron replied. The two Potter siblings heaved their trunks into the car through the window. As Harry handed Hedwig's cage to Ron, Y/N heard stirring from the other side of the house.

"Harry, hurry. I hear Uncle Vernon," she spoke calmly, but there was a panicked expression on her face. "Go on, you first."

Harry began to climb out of the window and into the car with Y/N's assistance. Just as Harry was safely inside, Uncle Vernon barged into the room.

"Y/N!" Harry shouted, pointing at their uncle. Her eyes widened and she not so carefully leaped out of the window and towards the car. She caught onto someone trying to help her in, but she didn't have time to process who it was because Uncle Vernon's hand had enclosed around her ankle. She kicked her leg and tried to heave herself up, but the grip was tight on her leg.

"Let go, you tosser!" called out the person she was clinging to. She kicked hard one last time, and while his grip faltered, she pulled herself up by the person she was clinging to. The door slammed shut and she found herself face to face with one of the Weasley twins. Ron and the other twin were in the front seat, while she and Harry were sat on either side of the twin in the backseat. Y/N felt heat rise to her cheeks and she let go of him.

"Fred, you're going the wrong way," said the twin, George, next to her. Fred turned the car around. Ron and Harry had already jumped into a rather animated conversation.

Y/N cleared her throat nervously, then spoke up. "Thank you. For saving Harry... er, us."

"It was nothing, really," said Fred, cracking a smile.

"Yeah, someone had to. I mean, they've got bars on your window. Your uncle must be mad," George said. Y/N laughed. Never had she heard anyone but her and Harry speak bad about Uncle Vernon.

The rest of the ride was spent making conversation with the twins, but Fred did most of the talking. Soon they landed at their family home and went inside. The five of them were caught by Molly Weasley, who gave Harry and Y/N a warm hug.

Their trunks were lugged inside. While Mrs. Weasley was scolding her children, Y/N rushed to hers and opened it. She pulled out a box wrapped in newspaper and handed it to Harry. "Happy birthday, Harry. Sorry it's not anything special, but when we go back to Diagon Alley we can get something better," she smiled at him.

He smiled back and said, "Thank you Y/N, and I know whatever it is, it's brilliant." He unwrapped the paper to reveal a pair of red and yellow gloves that matched his scarf perfectly. "Did you- did you make these?"

Y/N smiled bashfully and nodded. "'S alright if you don't like them, but I saw the leftover yarn when I was doing laundry and-"

"Y/N," he cut her off. "Thank you. I love them. They're perfect." Y/N smiled widely and pulled Harry in for a hug. What the two didn't see was the Weasley family watching the exchange.

Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly. "Now who wants breakfast?"

For the rest of that summer Y/N bunked with Ginny Weasley. Although she acted a little starstruck at first, they were fast friends. Even though she could talk to Y/N, she still hadn't spoken a word to Harry. Before long the nine of them had to head to Diagon Alley to get ready for the upcoming school year. Ginny was starting her first year, Harry his second, Y/N her third, and the twins their fourth.

While they were shopping for books at Flourish and Blotts they ran into Draco Malfoy. He didn't skip a beat before immediately insulting all of them.

"And what, Potter number one has nothing to say this time? Nervous around your boyfriend?" said Draco to Y/N, gesturing vaguely to the Weasleys standing nearby. "I wouldn't be surprised. They're blood traitors just like your 'father' was." He put air quotes around father. "But I suppose after marrying a muggle's child, he'd let anyone into his family, if you could even call it that." Y/N took a menacing step forward, then felt someone step up to her side.

"Malfoy, you have no idea what real family is," one of the twins said, standing to her left. She turned and the "G" stitched on his sweater stared back at her. Fred joined him.

"Yeah, Malfoy. Harry and Y/N are more family than all of your relatives combined," Fred said from his spot next to George.

"What's that supposed to mean, weasel?" Draco crossed his arms.

"Well I don't reckon Lucius Malfoy is very loving to his son," George shot back. Y/N's jaw dropped to the floor.

"How d-" Draco began, before his father came up to the group. The rest of the conversation passed by in a blur for Y/N. As they continued on getting their school supplies, she found herself glancing at George and getting deeply nervous when he was around her.

Oh no, she thought. Y/N Potter was developing a crush on George Weasley.

Throughout her third year, Y/N avoided George as much as she possibly could. She thought that if she avoided him, her feelings would go away. Unfortunately for her, since they were in the same house and shared some of the same friends, this was proving to be extremely difficult.

So, yeah, George saw less of Y/N than he should have. Not that he noticed, of course. She was more of Ginny's pal and Harry's sister than his friend. But at the end of the year she proved she was someone that would be sticking around.

When Ginny had gone missing, Y/N was extremely upset. Harry could see it, Ron could see it, and even George (who didn't pay her much attention) could see it. But even feeling that way, she made sure to comfort the Weasleys. Even Percy, who had spoken to her the least out of all of them.

Then, when Harry, Ron, and Ginny returned from the chamber, she practically sprinted to the hospital wing. Just like last year, she ran to Harry's side and made sure he was ok. Then, she turned to Ginny, who it seemed everyone had turned against, and hugged her. Ginny looked relieved that finally someone wasn't scolding her for what happened to her.

George smiled gratefully at Y/N, then started talking to Ron.

Y/N and Harry were staying at the Leaky Cauldron the summer before her fourth year. They had left Privet Drive after an unfortunate incident involving their Aunt Marge and escaped on the knight bus. There they ran into the Weasley family, who had just returned from Egypt.

"And after we got there-" Y/N was sitting and listening intently to Ron, who was recounting his trip to Egypt.

"Goodness Ron, how many people are you going to tell about it?" interrupted Fred, walking down the stairs.

"What? I've barely told anyone, George," Ron replied, glaring at him.

"Actually, I'm George," came a voice from someone who was descending the stairs. Y/N suddenly found the newspaper in front of her very interesting. Fred glanced at her. "And I reckon Y/N's got better things to do than listen to you talk about some dusty old buildings."

Y/N felt blood rushing to her cheeks and bit her lip. While Ron and George continued to bicker, a wide grin made its way onto Fred's face. He looked between Y/N and George. Fred had noticed something off about them and he had finally figured it out.

Fred Weasley knew Y/N's secret.

"Detention, Miss Potter," Professor Snape's voice called out. She tried to stay out of trouble, but it seemed that Snape had a particular dislike for her. She groaned inwardly and bit her tongue. "My office after dinner." Y/N suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and nodded.

After classes, Y/N found her way to Professor Lupin's office. He was sort of like her newly appointed godfather after she was adopted by James and Lily. Her and Harry spent a lot of time with him.

"-And Snape's given me another detention. I swear he's got it out for me, Professor," she said to him. Lupin laughed and shook his head. "It can't be fair, can it? I mean, I'm a good student."

"That you are, Y/N. But did you ever stop to consider that Professor Snape was not having the best day? Or other students were putting him on edge as well?" he replied, going through the papers on his desk.

"Well, maybe." She paused. "But I swear he's been like this since first year. It's almost as if he's mad at me for something I didn't do. Like I was cursed from birth," she said jokingly. Lupin smiled as if he knew something she didn't. He opened his mouth to reply, but seemed to decide against it. Just then, the door to the office was opened.

Harry was standing in the entrance. "There you are, Y/N. I thought I'd find you here."

"Harry, what's up?" Y/N said to him, smiling slightly.

"Dinner is nearly done and you hadn't shown up, so I thought I'd see what you were doing," he replied.

Y/N shot up from her seat. "Dinner's almost done!?" She began to gather up her things. "Dang it, I forgot I had to go to Snape's right after dinner. I better get going then. Bye Professor. Harry. Thank you!" She waved as she rushed out of the room.

Y/N sprinted down to the dungeons and turned the corner, checking her watch. She should've been there already. Since she wasn't watching where she was going, she smacked straight into someone. She slowly looked up and her eyes met cold ones.

"Miss Potter, it is probably useful to look where you are going when you're running. Although I suppose silly things like that aren't important to someone who is late to detention," Snape's monotone voice said. Behind him stood Fred and George. One of them stepped forward and helped her up. "Well, since Mr. Weasley is so keen on helping you, Miss Potter, he will be joining you in reorganizing the potion supplies." The one who helped her up groaned. "Alphabetically," he added. The other twin moved to join them. "You, Mr. Weasley, on the other hand, will be cleaning the trophy room and I will be accompanying you. You can't possibly think I'd trust you two alone. Now run along. I'll be checking on you in an hour."

Y/N didn't have to be told twice and started towards the supply room.

"I'm Fred by the way," said the twin beside her.

She nodded. "Ah, that's what I figured." Fred smiled.

"That's what you figured?" he laughed.

She joined in. Well, you're not giving me butterflies, she thought. "It's not like you guys are the same person."

"Thanks for noticing," he grinned. "But I would've thought it was because of a certain reason."

"A certain reason? What's that supposed to mean?" Y/N replied, fiddling with her sleeve. She giggled slightly. Had she been that obvious?

"Well, judging by the way you act around George-" he started. She could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

Y/N cut him off with, "I don't know what you're talking about." She walked ahead into the storage closet.

"If you say so." He put his hands up in surrender. They began to work on organizing all of the ingredients. "How did you end up in detention anyways?"

"Who knows anymore? Snape always has something to say about me." She changed her voice to imitate Snape's. "Potter, that potion is terrible. Potter, stop daydreaming in class. Potter, you're enjoying yourself too much. Potter, I am a greasy fun sucker."

Fred laughed loudly and Y/N joined in. "Yeah, it always seemed like ol’ Severus had a problem with you and Harry." Y/N smiled gratefully. Finally someone else validated her feelings. "But I never guessed that Y/N Potter would be spending her evenings in detention making fun of her professors."

"Well maybe you need to get to know me better, then."

"Yeah? Well maybe I will."

That was the start of Fred and Y/N's friendship.

Fred knew that Y/N didn't feel comfortable being herself around George. He wished she was, though. They were fast friends and he had grown quite fond of her. Not wanting to push her out of her comfort zone, Fred spent time with her without George. He liked to push people's buttons, but also knew what buttons not to push. Fred understood.

George did not. He always wondered why Fred went off to hang with Y/N Potter of all people. She was nice enough, sure, but he had no idea what they would do or talk about. So he was confused when Fred was so excited about her coming to stay with them for the rest of the summer. Ginny also seemed to be bouncing off the walls at the thought. Maybe it was the whole idea of the Quidditch World Cup in general that had everyone energized.

Soon enough the Potters and Hermione joined the Weasleys at the burrow. Fred and George were on their way back from town when they arrived.

Ginny opened the door and leaned out. "Oi! Y/N's here! And Harry and Hermione, too." A wide grin spread across Fred's face and he walked ahead into the house. George followed shortly after and stood in the doorway. They didn't notice him standing there.

"Fred!" Y/N said, giving him a hug. George thought that they were both grinning like madmen and a small smile made its way to his face.

"About time you showed up," Fred said to her. He turned to the others. "Finally some more people to test out our products. Ron can't seem to handle it."

"Fred!" Ron said, glaring at him.

"Products?" Y/N said, turning to him with a questioning look.

"Yeah, I'll show you. Come on! I've got so much to tell you," Fred replied, rushing up the stairs. Y/N raced after him and they engaged in a rather animated conversation.

"I guess I should join them before Fred blows Y/N's head off," Ginny laughed and made her way towards the stairs. Now it was just George, Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

"Aren't you going to join them?" said Ron to George.

"Ron!" Hermione said, lightly hitting him with her book.

"Ow, what?"

"Join them?" George spoke up, confused.

"Yeah, aren't you friends with Y/N now? We see you guys hanging out all of the time in school," said Ron.

"Come to think of it, I guess I only really see her with Fred," said Harry, shrugging. He sent a questioning look to George.

"Well-" George started, but they were interrupted by a loud bang from upstairs followed by raucous laughter.

"Fred! That better not be my room again!" Ron said, sprinting up the stairs. Harry laughed and ran after him, followed shortly by Hermione. George felt inclined to go after them.

When he got there he found that no, it was not Ron's room again. They were in his and Fred’s shared room. Ron, Hermione, and Harry were standing in the doorway. He moved closer and peered over their heads, which wasn't hard because he was quite tall. Inside he saw Ginny, Fred, and Y/N all sitting on the floor huddled together.

Ginny had her hand resting on Y/N's shoulder. Y/N was leaning close to Fred, who had something in his hand. They all had smiles that they couldn't seem to shake off. All three of them seemed so… in their element. George couldn't quite describe it, but it was odd seeing as he never really saw Y/N like this.

"What's going on with you lot?" George called, feigning sternness.

"Nothing!" the three on the floor called in unison. Y/N hadn't looked up at him yet, but his siblings were staring up at him. They stared for a few silent seconds before Ginny burst with laughter, falling onto her back. Fred started laughing too, and he even saw Y/N covering up her giggles between them.

As the time to the world cup ticked closer, George couldn't help but notice how close his twin and Y/N had gotten. Usually the two of them had the same friends, so it was a little bit odd for George. He brushed it off, though. Fred saw something in her that he didn't, so what? Fred had a good way of making people come out of their shell, he supposed.

Before long it was the morning of the day they had all been anticipating. They began their trek to the portkey.

"George, you've got the face paint right?" Fred said to him when they left the house. George's eyes widened.

"No, I left it on the table. Keep going, I'll catch up." He dashed back into the house and retrieved what he needed. When he exited the house again, the group was in the distance. He broke into a jog to catch up with them. When he was catching up to the back of the group, he caught a snippet of a conversation.

Y/N and Harry were lagging a little bit behind everyone. George didn't mean to snoop, he swears. He just heard by accident.

"-spending time with him. Y/N, are you and Fred, er… dating?" Harry said to his sister. George had thought the same thing. But no, Fred would've told him. Besides, Fred was interested in Angelina.

"No! No. W-we're not, I promise. We're just really good friends," Y/N sputtered out quickly.

"Well it's just that you only hang out with him and not George. You have to admit that's a bit odd," Harry replied. She shrugged her shoulders. "Do you have a crush on him?" he said, teasingly.

Y/N bit her bottom lip. "Have a crush on…?"

"Fred," he finished for her.

"No. Definitely not." She sounded sure this time.

Harry grinned. "Brilliant. We can't have my sister getting a boyfriend, can we?" She pushed him lightly on the shoulder.

"Alright. Whatever you say. I wonder what Cho would think about all of this." She walked faster, heading to Ginny and Hermione.

"What-" Harry looked bewildered. "How-"

"I'm older than you. I know everything," she called over her shoulder, smiling cheekily.

George waited a minute before he decided it was time to make himself known. "Fred! I've got it." He waved the paint in the air.

Soon enough, they arrived at their destination. There, his father was talking to Amos Diggory. Just then, a figure jumped out of the tree they were standing by. He recognized the boy as Cedric, who was in the same year as him.

Hermione, Ginny, and Y/N exchanged glances in front of him and Fred. The two of them moved to pass the girls and greet Cedric. He saw Fred poke Y/N's side playfully as they passed.

"Diggory!" Fred called out. Cedric turned around. The three of them weren't the best of friends, but they got along just fine. Maybe if the three were in the same house, they'd know each other better. "What's up mate?"

Nearby Y/N, Hermione, and Ginny were talking. "He's kind of cute, don't you think?" Ginny whispered.

Hermione smiled bashfully. "Yes, I suppose so."

"What do you think, Y/N?" Ginny said, turning to her.

"Oh, er… yeah. For sure," Y/N answered.

"You don't sound very sure of yourself," said Hermione. Ginny nodded in agreement.

"Well, you're staring over there," added Ginny, laughing slightly. Yeah, at your brother, Y/N thought to herself. She quickly averted her gaze.

"Am not!"

"Don't look now, but I think Cedric noticed," Hermione said with a slight giggle in her tone. Y/N glanced up to Cedric looking in their direction. Fred seemed to have followed his gaze and was now looking at them too.

A cheeky grin spread across his face. "Oi, Y/N! Come say hi!"

Y/N approached them and shot Fred a glare. Cedric stuck his hand out to her. She took it and they shook hands.

"Cedric Diggory."

"Y/N Potter."

After the crazy night at the game, the trek from the portkey to the burrow seemed much longer than before. In fact, so much so that George was lagging behind the rest of the group. In front of him was Fred and Y/N, who seemed to be in their own little world. Just as earlier in the day, he caught a snippet of a conversation that wasn’t meant for his ears.

“So, what’d you think of Diggory?” Fred said to Y/N in a teasing manner.

“What did I think of… Cedric? Yeah, he’s a nice guy,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

“A nice guy?” Fred laughed and Y/N rolled her eyes. “I think he took a liking to you…”

“A liking to me? What’s that supposed to mean exactly?”

“Oh, you know. He just seemed a little bit… flirty, if you will,” Fred said with a large grin on his face.

“No, I will not,” Y/N replied with the hint of a laugh in her voice. “He was just being friendly. Besides…” she leaned closer to Fred. “You know I fancy-”

Just then George heard a loud crunch that came from the bottom of his foot. He had stepped on a branch.

Fred and Y/N whipped around.

“George!” she exclaimed. “I- We- We didn’t quite s-see you there!” she said, wringing her hands nervously.

He felt a little bad at her mortified look. “Oh yeah, sorry about that. I was way behind and just caught up now.” Okay, so he lied. But she did look relieved, so it didn’t matter much to him.

A smile crossed her face. “B-brilliant.”

“Y/N, I think I heard Harry calling your name,” Fred said after a long silence. Y/N sent him a grateful look and headed to the group in front of them.

The Yule Ball was fast approaching and all of the students at Hogwarts seemed to be buzzing with excitement. Everyone except Y/N, of course. She had been stressed about Harry in the tournament and more obviously, she had not yet secured a date. Y/N was silently wishing that a certain someone would ask her, but she tried not to get her hopes up. He had never really given her much attention anyways.

Y/N was sitting in the library doing her potions homework. Despite the upcoming holidays, Professor Snape still decided to pile on work. She lifted her quill to dip into the ink bottle that was sat on the table.

“Y/N.” A voice from behind her cut through the silence of the library. Several heads turned their way. On top of that, the person had startled her so much that she knocked the ink all over her parchment. She tried to contain her huff and turned around.

“Yes?” she said in the politest tone possible.

“O-oh I’m sorry about that,” said the boy before her.

Her gaze softened and a polite smile made its way to her face. “Don’t worry about it. My essay was rubbish anyways. Kenneth Towler, right?”

“Yes, that’s me. And I highly doubt that. You’re one of the top students in your year, aren’t you?” he replied, fidgeting with his hands. Y/N felt a bit of heat rise to her face and smiled brighter. And were those… butterflies in her stomach? “A-anyways, I was wondering if you were going to the ball with anyone…?”

She was a bit startled by the question. “The ball? Oh no, no one’s asked me.” Y/N’s smile faltered a bit.

“Oh wow, that’s surprising. Well, I was wondering if-” he cleared his throat. “I was wondering if y-you wanted to go with me? To the ball, I mean,” he stammered. Y/N smiled to herself at his awkwardness. It was endearing, in a way.

When she opened her mouth to reply, a head of red hair caught her attention. It was George, walking towards the exit of the library. Her eyes followed him for a split second, as if that would will him to come over and ask her to be his. She shook the thought out of her head. Come on, Y/N, he’s barely even spoken to you.

“You know what, Kenneth? I would love to.”

And just like that the idea of George Weasley got smaller and smaller inside of her head.

“Fred! Fred!” a voice called from down the corridor that the twins were walking through. It was Y/N’s. They turned towards her.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Y/N Potter,” Fred said, grinning as she approached. George thought that she seemed to have an extra pep in her step. She came forward and grabbed Fred’s arm in excitement.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it Fred. Someone’s just asked me to the ball. I didn’t think anyone would,” Y/N said. A bright smile was spread across her face. “Oh, and, erm, hi Geroge.” He nodded and smiled at her in acknowledgement. That was a bit unusual. She never really seemed to speak to him unless he spoke to her first.

“Oh, rubbish. You’re a right catch, Y/N Potter. Who’s the lucky guy?” replied Fred.

That just seemed to make Y/N’s smile wider. “Kenneth Towler.”

This shocked both Fred and George.

“Kenneth Towler? The Gryffindor? In our year?” Fred asked, eyes slightly wide. Y/N nodded. “Did you think you wouldn’t have any other options?” he teased, snickering slightly. Y/N lightly hit the side of his arm with the parchment rolled up in her hand.

“Oh hush, Fred. He’s a really nice guy. And handsome, too,” she said, laughing lightly. Oh thank goodness, George thought. She knows he’s teasing. For a second there he thought she’d get offended, but then he remembered that Y/N and Fred knew each other really well. They were quite close. Best mates, one could call it.

“Handsome! Handsome?! Well, I guess whatever floats your boat, Y/N. He’s definitely not Fred Weasley handsome, but he’s okay I suppose.” George let out a laugh at his brother’s word.

“Funny, coming from you Fred. I reckon Angelina will have to wear a blindfold to the ball if she even wants a chance at having a good time,” she replied. This made George shake with laughter. Y/N smiled brightly at him and fiddled with the bottom of her jumper. Did Y/N potter just make a joke? He had never seen it before. Perhaps that was why Fred had her around so much. She looked like she wanted to say something to him, but someone called his name and that was that.

The night of the ball soon came and Y/N was scrambling to get ready. Her hands were only slightly shaking as she was putting on her necklace.

"Are you nervous, Y/N? It's only Kenneth," her roommate, Katie said as she took the clasps of the jewelry out of her hand. She clipped it for her.

"That's the thing, Katie. It's not just Kenneth. He's the first boy who has shown interest in me and I really want him to like me," Y/N replied exasperated.

"The first boy-" Katie sputtered in surprise. "The first boy? Y/N, I can name four guys off the top of my head who've fancied you."

"Katie, I've no idea what you are on about. If anyone liked me why didn't they tell me or ask me out?" Y/N laughed slightly at the idea. She would've known if someone was interested in her… right?

"Well maybe it's because you never showed interest back," she replied, shrugging. Perhaps she had spent too much time looking at George to realize anyone was looking at her. Well, no matter. The fact was she was going with Kenneth tonight. Y/N finished with her accessories and stepped back to look in the mirror. Her roommate made her way to the mirror as well. "Wow Y/N, you look absolutely stunning."

A bright, genuine smile made its way to her face. "Thank you, Katie. Truly. And I know your date is going to be absolutely gobsmacked when he sees you." The two girls shared a laugh, then made their way down to the great hall.

That night Y/N hung out with Fred and Angelina, but she spent the most time with her date.

A few days later, after her second official date with him, she had an important conversation with Fred. The two of them were lounging in the courtyard.

"Y'know what, Fred?" she said. He hummed in response. "I'm completely over your brother." A large grin was spread across her face.

Fred sat up from leaning on her shoulder and turned to face her. "Are you really?" Y/N nodded excitedly. It was sort of… liberating to her. She felt she wasn't held back by her unrequited nonsense anymore. "That's surprising, seeing as you've fancied him since what? Before your fourth year?"

"Before my third year, actually. When you lot saved me and Harry from the big bad Dursley household." They both laughed at that. "But now I'm free." Fred raised his eyebrows. "Free from having to worry about George. Or what he thinks of me, at least. Now I've got Kenny. I don't know how to describe it, but he just makes me feel… good."

Fred grinned at her. "Kenny?"

"Yes, Kenny. You know I give everyone nicknames, Frederick," she replied, rolling her eyes.

George had a great time at the Yule Ball. There was dancing, singing, and good times. The Yule Ball also brought change, but it would take a little while for him to notice it.

Y/N seemed to have a magical night at the ball with her date. They went on a few dates after that and Kenneth asked her to be his girlfriend. She agreed of course, and they seemed happy as they could be for the rest of the year, given the circumstances. George saw that while Y/N still didn't really hang out with him, she came up to Fred while he was there more often now. He started to see more of her. Kenneth must be helping her come out of her shell, he thought.

Near the end of the year, George and Fred were walking through an empty corridor. They then turned the corner and were shocked to see a crying Y/N being comforted by Harry. Or at least he was trying to comfort her. He looked a little helpless.

"Y/N!" Fred exclaimed, sliding onto the bench next to her. He threw an arm around her comfortingly and said, "What's wrong?"

Y/N sniffled. "It's Kenneth," Harry answered for her. George felt a pang of anger go through him. He wasn't close to Y/N, but he still felt bad for her.

Fred looked even more angry than he felt. "What did he do?" said Fred, who George could tell was trying to contain his anger. She lifted her head from her hands.

"He didn't do anything. It's- It's-" Y/N started before stopping and letting out a shaky breath. "It's his parents. They're moving to- to-" she said, putting her head back into her hands.

"They're moving to America," said Harry, sensing that her throat was closing up.

“Moving to America?” Fred said incredulously. “Why?”

“They don’t think it’s safe here anymore,” she said, lifting her head once again. She tried to control her breathing and wiped her tears. “He has to sever all ties here and… I said I’d wait for him. Wait until this is all over. But he said that I’d be happier without waiting. Without him…” A fresh set of tears made their way to Y/N’s eyes. “But I’m not really happy now, am I?” she laughed at herself pathetically and tried to sit up straighter.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” Fred said, rubbing comforting circles on her back.

“Thanks, Fred.”

After George’s sixth year at Hogwarts everything seemed to change. You Know Who was back in his own body. Cedric Diggory was murdered in cold blood simply for being with Harry. The Order of the Phoenix was reestablished.

And another thing. Something about Y/N Potter had changed in George’s eyes. The summer before his last year at Hogwarts, the image of her in his head changed. And he wasn’t sure if it was for the better or not.

Please let me know what you think and ask me any questions you have! My askbox is always open! Thank you so much for reading!

254 notes · View notes

adapembroke · 4 years

Text

Write Your Own Horoscope

Newspaper horoscopes are notoriously bad. The need to predict the future for everyone born during a certain month makes it almost impossible for horoscopes to be specific and accurate.

One of the benefits of being your own astrologer, though, is that you can write horoscopes for yourself. Even if you are just starting out with astrology, your horoscopes will be more accurate because they’re tailored especially to you. You can focus your readings on the areas of life you care about, and you can write in a style that suits your beliefs.

Interested in predicting the future? Make some educated guesses and see how they turn out. With persistence, experience, and practice, your predictions will get better over time.

More interested in getting good advice? You can skip the prediction entirely and focus on writing horoscopes that give advice on how to set good intentions and make good decisions.

In this post, I share techniques you can use to write basic monthly and weekly horoscopes. If you are new to astrology, you can use the techniques I outline here to write horoscopes that are still likely to be better than anything you’ll find in print. Those who are more advanced can use these techniques as a foundation and add more complicated elements.

In order to use these techniques, you need your rising sign/ascendant. If you don't know what your rising sign is, you can find it here.

Monthly Horoscope

The sun shines a light on one side of the zodiac every month. You may know the zodiac signs as sun signs that describe an aspect of your personality. The signs in astrology also represent lessons we are trying to learn, virtues we are trying to develop.

January: Capricorn: Order

February: Aquarius: Innovation

March: Pisces: Transcendence

April: Aries: Courage

May: Taurus: Security

June: Gemini: Curiosity

July: Cancer: Nurturing

August: Leo: Self-expression

September: Virgo: Craftsmanship

October: Libra: Harmony

November: Scorpio: Depth

December: Sagittarius: Faith

At the same time as the sun is highlighting a zodiac sign, it is also highlighting an astrological house. Astrological houses represent topics and areas of life.

1st house: Personality

2nd house: Money

3rd house: Communication

4th house: Home

5th house: Pleasure

6th house: Daily routine

7th house: Relationships

8th house: Occult

9th house: Religion

10th house: Career

11th house: Friends

12th house: Solitude

When the sun is in a sign, it is in the same sign for everyone. When the sun is in Aries, we are all learning courage. When the sun is in Capricorn, we are all learning about order and discipline. However, the sun is not in the same house for everyone at the same time. This is one of the ways our experiences are unique. Some of us are learning to create order in our homes. Some of us are learning how to create order in our daily routines. Some of us are learning how to create order in our finances, or at work.

When you bring together the sun's position and house and sign, it is very easy to create a simple horoscope for yourself for the month. You use the sign to tell you what lesson you need to learn, and you use the house to tell yourself where you need to learn that lesson. Writing the horoscope once you know these two things is as simple as giving yourself good advice, talking to yourself the way you would talk to a friend.

How to bring houses and signs together: Find your rising sign in the list of signs. Your rising sign is the first house for you. Once you have your first house, each sign that follows will correspond to the next house in numerical order.

How to use this horoscope: The sun is the planet of ego and leadership. Monthly horoscopes are great for helping you figure out what to do. Monthly horoscopes are good for helping you set conscious intentions, direct your will, and get into action. The sun is the brightest light in the sky. It illuminates issues that you need to work on.

Example horoscope: August: Aries Rising (Sun in Leo and the 5th house): In August, your focus should be on expressing yourself through your pleasures. How do you spend your leisure time? Do you do things that feel “you?” Or have you fallen into old habits that no longer really make you happy? This month, focus on wringing as much pleasure out of your free time as you possibly can. If you’re not really having fun, do something else.

Make your horoscope your own:

The sun goes into a new sign on around the 20th, so the calendar month and the sun’s month don’t exactly align. You can choose to write your horoscope for the month the sun is in each sign, or you can write your horoscope for the calendar month, even though the sun will be in a different sign during the last 10 days or so.

If you know how to read your birth chart, you can incorporate the planets into your horoscope. When the sun is in the sign where your Venus is, for example, you can add relationships into the picture. When the sun is in the same sign as your moon, you know it’s a month to focus on nurturing yourself and caring for yourself emotionally.

My technique uses the whole sign house system because it is the easiest to learn. If you prefer another house system (such as Placidus), you can write your horoscope so that the topic changes when the sun changes houses and the virtue changes when the sun changes signs.

Weekly Horoscope

The sun spends a month in each sign, but the moon spends roughly 2.5 days. By following the moon’s journey through the zodiac, you can create a horoscope for yourself that includes 3-4 pieces of advice for yourself per week.

To make a weekly horoscope, follow the same process as the monthly horoscope, but instead of looking at the sun’s sign to determine the sign, look at the signs the moon travels through in a week. You can look up where the moon is in an astro planner, moon phase calendar, or app.

How to use this horoscope: The moon illuminates the night, the time of day when we’re more interested in being than doing. Weekly horoscopes are great for helping you predict how you’re going to feel and plan for what you’re likely to be in the mood for.

Example Horoscope: On Monday, the moon will be in Cancer in the house of solitude. This is a time for stepping away from social engagements and focusing on taking care of yourself alone. Spend some quality time with your journal and be sure to drink plenty of water. On Tuesday and Wednesday, the moon is in Leo and the house of personality. Make some time to hang out with friends and make sure that your outfit really matches how you’re feeling. You’ll feel off if you just throw on the first thing you find in the laundry basket. On Thursday and Friday, the moon is in Virgo and the house of money. This is a time for thinking about your finances and making sure your budget is up-to-date and matches your priorities. On Saturday and Sunday, the moon is in Libra and the house of communication. The monthly family Zoom call is on Saturday: Be ready to be a peace maker and help your father and brother see each other’s point of view.

Make your horoscope your own:

Incorporate the moon phases into your horoscopes. When the moon is waxing, it’s a good time to focus on manifesting. When the moon is waning, it’s a good time to focus on cleaning out and purging.

Make note of the times when the moon is void of course, and plan to take a rest (or be more patient) during those times.

Incorporate the planets into your horoscopes by noting the days when the moon shares a sign with each of your planets.

This post first appeared on adapembroke.com.

#astrology

399 notes · View notes

salemcat09 · 4 years

Note

You want a request? What about drarry and something with healers? Like maybe one is a healer and has to treat the other, or perhaps they’re both healers and end up working together, whatever floats your boat!

First off I just want to say I am SO SO sorry for how long this took, there's no excuse I'm just lazy. Anyway ,thank you so much for the request! I apologize for the fact that kind of took the first part and ran with it, the story is kind of taking the request loosely but I hope you don't mind too much :-)

(Read below the cut)

St Mungo's Malady (drarry)

• malady /ˈmalədi/ noun

- a serious problem.

Work had been hectic at St Mungo's for days now. It was the start of summer and all the children were returning home from school, of course with that comes reckless kids getting injured in ridiculous ways.

Draco had just finished tiding up his equipment from the last patient and was ready to go home and rest when there was a gentle knock on his door. Sighing, he opened it.

"Sorry Draco, but Margaret's had to rush home and there are not enough people on the shift, could you stay for another hour? It'll only be a few patients, promise" It was his very stressed coworker, Hannah Abbott. He cursed his breath but smiled politely, not trying to get on anyone's bad side more than he already was after the war.

"Of course, send them through". He hurriedly gathered his things and set them out ready for his patient and sat in his desk chair waiting. He heard the slight click of Hannah's heels hurriedly tracking the hall to the waiting room and back. The door once again creaked open and Hannah guided two people in, a short and oddly familiar dark-haired man and a strangely blue-haired child, Draco assumed to be around six.

His coworker kindly handed him the papers he needed and gave a small shocked sounding gasp and what Draco supposed was meant to be a reassuring smile (that just made him anxious, because why would he need reassuring). The blonde read his expression and gave a small nod to the papers she'd given before backing out of the room.

Draco smiled at the two people in front of him and gestured for them to sit, the man sitting in the chair across from him and the child hopping onto the bed. He furrowed his brow at the man, trying to understand why he looked oh so familiar but he failed, instead shaking his head and introducing himself as Dr. Greengrass.

The name belonged to his ex-wife, whom he'd only been married to for a year and a half before the relationship ended (it was inevitable, they were both gay but settled for each other to please their parents, they were miserable). The pair were still good friends though, and Draco saw no need to change his name again, being that he'd fought so hard to change it in the first place.

He read over his papers quickly to see what exactly he was treating (he assumed) the child for, expecting to see something along the lines of "accidental magic gone wrong" or "fallen off his quidditch broom". He ended up seeing that the child had fallen from a tree with a suspected broken arm, but also saw something else.

He recognized that name. Edward Lupin. Lupin had been his defense against the dark arts teacher in his third year and he would never admit it but he had been his favorite teacher. Of course, that didn't last long because the teacher quit after only a year, and died not long after. He also knew the first name. His mother had said something about a cousin killed in the war, by his Aunt Bellatrix, who'd left a young child behind. He knew the father of the child had not been well accepted, something about being old and poor and a half breed. Judging by the last name it was likely his previous teacher.

This must be the child he thought to himself. He felt sorry for him, his cousin. Being left all alone. But he presumed he wasn't exactly alone, he had his grandmother and whoever this man was. It just occurred to him at that moment to look at the listed caregiver's name, find out who he was.

He inhaled sharply reading the name. The name he saw so much yet always dreaded. The name of someone who had taken up so much of his mind for almost his entire teenage years. The name of someone he hadn't seen in years. Harry Potter. He looked different. Older. Draco knew he was only 23, they were the same age. But he also knew how the stress of war could age you.

He composed himself and looked between the two, trying his best to remain professional as he treated his blue-haired patient. He could tell Potter was trying his best to do the same but both were failing and the conversation was beyond awkward. Surprisingly enough, however, Har- Potter wasn't seething in disgust, but instead seemed interested and somewhat concerned.

Luckily for Draco, all he had to do was check over Teddy's (as he'd been told he preferred to be called) arm and try and see how much damage was done, before referring him over to another department. As he was guiding the two out (the younger one excitedly bouncing up and down with the lollipop he'd been given) Potter turned to him. "Nice to see you, Draco" he smiled.

As politely as possible and trying not to be thrown off by the man's own politeness, he replied "Just doing my job, Potter". And with that his old nemesis and crush turned on his heel and left, Draco closing the door behind him.

He sighed heavily and sunk down the back of his office door. He prayed there were no more patients today and he could just get home and wipe the entire interaction from his memory.

-•-

As much as Draco tried, for weeks he couldn't get the encounter out of his head. So many thoughts and questions rushed through, so many awoken feelings he'd all but forgotten. Of course, his biggest question was what on earth was someone like Potter doing with his young cousin? And letting him fall from a height like that?!

He cringed in embarrassment at the thought. Why was caring so much? The was a stupid question, he knew exactly why. The obsession of his youth was creeping its way back in. Who knew such a small thing could set him back so far.

In the end, he settled on asking his mother. If he was being drawn to Potter again why not just....allow it? He was being daft and he knew it but his ego would always rise above that. He wasn't going to stalk Potter again, that would be childish...and mildly creepy to be honest. No, he was just going to ask Mother why Potter was with his cousin. That seemed somewhat normal.

He walked into his mother's bedroom and knocked lightly on the door. She raised her eyebrows slightly but made no effort to make conversation with Draco, no surprise there. Draco noticed that she was sewing and didn't want to be bothered but frankly, he couldn't care less. He cleared his throat and finally Narcissa sighed and turned to him.

"Yes, Draco?" Anxiety fueled up inside of the young man, tempting him to back out and run. But he had to know.

"Mother, what would Harry Potter possibly be doing with my cousin's child?" He tried to act calm but sweat was curating on his palms and it was impossible not to notice. His mouth was dry. There was no reason for behavior like this, he was acting like a silly school boy with a crush.

His mother rubbed between her eyes and let out another deep sigh. "As far as I am aware, Mr. Potter was made godfather at the time the child was born. I assume now that either my dear sister would be raising him, or Potter would. Why?" Her voice seethed with sarcasm when speaking of her "dear" sister. And it was evident by her voice she had little to no interest in what her son was saying, her temper running thin.

"He came in with Teddy at work today, as his caregiver. I was merely curious is all" Draco responded, not exactly lying but not exactly telling the whole truth either.

"Hm, very well be off then" As blunt as ever Narcissa requested he leave and Draco of course obeyed, thinking to himself he ought to work out his...struggles on his own.

-•-

It was many weeks before he saw Potter again. He half expected half hoped for him to appear at work, for Teddy of course. But in the end, he never showed. By the time the end of Summer was rolling around and leaves began to darken, Draco had given up. He knew he was being stupid, hoping his old nemesis from school would just happen to walk by him so he could get one more glimpse at that horrid person who caused him so much stress. He still hoped though. He was still disappointed when September 1st came and summer was officially over.

He was taking his daily stroll down the parks of muggle London, having just bought his morning coffee after a long night shift at St Mungo's. As per usual, he kept his head down. If anyone from school happened to see him he was sure they wouldn't notice. The Draco they knew had always kept his chin unbelievably and insufferably high much like Draco now, who was skittish and quiet always trying to avoid being seen. That's why he didn't notice the man of his dreams walking straight into him with another scorching hot coffee.

The two collided, the coffees exploding onto each other, and both of them crashing to the harsh concrete ground beneath them. Draco swiftly stood up and without thinking whipped out his wand to clean the mess. When he looked up from the small puddle of coffee (on both his sweater and the ground), he noticed the stranger had done the same, going to use magic to clean the mess. He had obviously noticed as well, and they shared at silent moment of solidarity before both muttering scorgify under their breath.

Draco kindly reached out a hand to help this person up, knowing the collision had been entirely his fault and wanting to make up for it. Much to his dismay, however, he met the eyes of the other. For a split second, he didn't realize, simply seeing the most gorgeous green eyes. But then it clicked. He drifted his eyes slightly up to the left of this so-called stranger's face. The white lines of a lightning bolt spread out, slightly raised above his dark skin. It was him.

The flustered blonde acknowledged he had been staring for a tad too long, and blushed profusely before pulling, who he discovered was, indeed, Potter, to his feet. He coughed awkwardly and brushed himself off, to give his hands something to do (he found himself doing that a lot, especially recently). He gave a polite smile and avoided Harry's painful attempts at eye contact before hurrying off, back in the direction he was going before the interruption.

"Draco wait!" Draco gasped slightly and turned, to see Potter desperately smiling at him. He cursed under his breath and prayed to Merlin that Harry wouldn't want to talk but simply exchange simple pleasantries before being off on his way. He could handle that at least. Despite his deep hatred of small talk, he had gathered quite good at it over the years and felt prepared enough for whatever 'how are you's and 'how have you been's Potter may feel necessary.

To his misfortune, Potter started with hello. That wasn't a good sign. Draco smiled politely once again and said hello back, still with an inkling of hope that this would be quick. He may have been wanting to speak with Harry for months, and he may not have left his mind, but he certainly wasn't prepared to have this meeting completely random on a busy street in London on an early Wednesday morning.

"How have you been? I've been hoping to catch you since we last bumped into each other but Ginny's schedule has been somewhat intense" the younger man chuckled and scratched the back of his neck just where his hair stopped most endearingly way possible. It wasn't that that caught him though. Ginny. Of course. Potter's little Hogwarts romance. He assumed they were married by now, much like he himself had been.

"I've been alright, thank you. Ginny?" He couldn't help himself but ask. All possibility of a quick conversation out the window. He knew they must be together, why else would his schedule be centered around hers. Potter chuckled again and raised his eyebrows before answering

"Yeah, the way I said that makes it sound like we're married or something, we're not. We're not even together. We live together and co-parent our son, James, together with Luna is all. And with Teddy around more it's always best to have some sort of other parental figure around for him. So our schedules tend to revolve around each other." Draco was stunned. On one hand, he was silently pleased to hear that Harry wasn't still with Weasley as he assumed. But son? He had no idea of Harry having a child, he thought he would have found out by now given he's the chosen one and all.

"You and Ginny aren't together? You're single then?" Draco cursed himself for the way he said that, he hadn't meant to come across so upfront he genuinely was just curious. He had a habit of saying things that sounded right to him but as soon as they were said aloud he would realize how wrong it sounded to anyone else. He played it cool and decided it was best he ignore the slip up for now, he could always lay awake in bed in three years time and go over what he could've done instead.

Luckily for him, Potter laughed. Not a chuckle but a genuine laugh. It even made Draco's lips twitch a tad, and neither noticed the other but both of their eyes had darted down to the other's mouth for just a second. "Ginny and I split up, yes. About three years ago and she's now in a long-term relationship with Luna, but we're still great friends. We have to be considering we only had a son a few weeks ago" he did that awkward neck scratch again that just killed Draco. "And for the record yes I am indeed single, I have had a few relationships here and there but as of currently I am. Gosh sounds like I'm writing for a dating site" Draco laughed this time.

The blonde turned his head to fill in time while thinking and noticed a park bench right next to the pair. He gestured and Harry nodded, both sitting down somewhat awkwardly next to each other, to continue the conversation. "Sorry about your coffee by the way" Draco muttered just now remembering how they'd found themselves here in the first place.

"It's fine, you'll just have to buy me a new one next time" Harry laughed. It took Draco a few beats to catch up and realise Potter was joking. He forced an awkward laugh before Harry spoke again. The younger man nudged the older, in a humorous friendly manner that confused the older "I mean unless you do actually want to get a coffee sometime? You'd still owe me of course" Draco panicked, this time he really didn't know if he was joking or not. To him it sounded serious and borderline flirtatious. He decided to play it safe, and respond with a half joke

"Yeah alright then" he laughed. Harry also laughed while looking almost directly into his eyes.

"Alright. I can uh give you my number and organize it? Or we could go now if you like, take this conversation with us" He was definitely serious now. And still tiptoeing on flirtatious but Draco was sure he imagined it. Draco nodded

"If you don't have elsewhere to be, I'm sure you do, you know, mister chosen one and all, but if you don't I wouldn't mind popping into the diner down the road" Harry laughed at the chosen one line, glad someone would finally take it lightly and joke about it for once.

"I do not have anything else to do, being the chosen one dosn't do much for your social life on a Wednesday morning it appears" He smiled at Draco and began to stand "Other than this of course" he teased

"I'm flattered Potter" Draco quipped back half sarcastically. He took a deep breath and reminded himself this was just coffee. Old school mates catching up, nothing more. He did admit it was strange though. That Harry, whom he had hated so deeply and who had hated him was suddenly so friendly and almost key word almost flirting with him and appeared to have asked him out in some strange twisted way.

Little did Draco know, Harry was going over the exact same things. Except he was much more confused. He had to admit he had been thinking about Draco an awful lot since their last meeting. And having discussed with Ginny and even his ex (but still good friend) Neville it was clear his feelings toward him from the start. In fact, it appeared everyone had realized but him. That was normal though, he tended to be oblivious. But why had Draco accepted? He was joking at first but judging by the other man's face he was considering it, so Harry took his shot. Still half-joking but then he agreed? He had expected Draco to have walked away right at the start but he stayed. And now they were heading to a diner together for coffee, still chit-chatting about their day to day lives since school ended.

Harry also thought back to when he was with George. He had truly liked him, loved him even, but they weren't a match and broke up after nearly three years. It had been like this. He acted like this. And he knew why because he was always the same with his crushes/partners. He was like this with Cho then Ginny, George, Neville, and now Draco. And while the name never ceased to shock him (though it did explain a lot about his school rivalry) he knew it was the same as all the others. What was different was how Draco was responding. He was responding how all his other partners had. No resentment, no weirdness, just as if they had always been friends and this was normal for them. Harry had no complaints but it was still strange.

Slowly they made their way to the diner. Draco holding the door open for Harry. They ordered their coffees and began the conversation all over again. They talked about eighth year, finding jobs after school, Draco's marriage, what St Mungos was like, and if being a healer was something Harry could possibly look into (he liked the idea Draco raised of becoming a Hogwarts nurse), and even talked about their sexualities, something Draco had never done before. Somewhere in this midst numbers had been shared, and they agreed to meet up again at the same park. Hopefully not by crashing into each other this time Harry made sure to add. And all was well.

End.

22 notes · View notes

jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

Text

How Do I Love Thee? (Ethan x MC)

Regency Era AU

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Miss Lilac Allende) Word count: 5K Warning: More historical pining Premise: Their kiss marked the end of their medical apprenticeship, but is that the end for them? Part three of She Walks in Beauty and A Red, Red Rose.

Everything at Edenbrook reminded him of her. He could not work in peace in his own study without thinking of her torturous lips moving in unison with his, of the sinful little sighs he evoked from her, of her coy hands losing themselves in his hair.

Ethan groaned.

The clock that particular morning read well past nine in the morning, which meant his study would be desolate for the remainder of the day and thus safe for him to use. A small stab of disappointment made itself present in his chest before Ethan resolutely pushed it away. Much like he had for the past two weeks, he reminded himself that avoiding her was the best alternative, for both of them.

Ethan swallowed down the brief bout of despair that flooded him. Not seeing her was a torment, sinking in his stomach like a boulder. Seeing her and enduring the cold, determined manner in which she avoided his gaze was much, much worse.

_______________

II.

Every nerve in her body was alive with anxious energy as she traveled down a deserted hall. With a deep, steadying breath, Lilac willed herself to relax, reminding herself that business had taken him away to London. There was no possibility of running into him as she extended her stay at Edenbrook that morning.

Suppressing a sigh, she tried not to dwell on his absence.

It was true that they barely saw much of each other as of late, but having him so far away was disheartening and it made the loss of him much more tangible. It broke her everyday that went by.

Lilac startled at the sight of someone turning the corner.

Mrs. Martinez smiled kindly at her, no doubt noting her reaction but choosing not to comment on it. Instead, she said, “Thank goodness you are back, dear. And already changed out of that dreadful costume,” she motioned to the bundle of gentlemen’s clothes Lilac carried in her arms. “We can set off at once.”

She grimaced at the thought of going home. “Actually, I am staying behind to study some more.”

Mrs. Martinez sent her a knowing look. “Study?” she repeated suspiciously. “Is that so?”

Lilac’s posture became a little straighter. “Yes, Dr. Ramsey is in London and Dr. Banerji assured me his library is at my disposal for however long I need it.”

The older woman looked as unconvinced as ever. “Is this really about studying?” she asked innocuously, “Or is this about avoiding Lord Carrick?”

The name and the accuracy of her statement sent her stomach sinking. Her silence was all the admission Mrs. Martinez needed for she laughed triumphantly.

“I may be old but I am not a fool, my dear,” she chided, though not unkindly. “And you forget that I know you since the day you were born.”

Lilac averted her gaze. “I do not wish to spend any time with anyone if I could be using that time to study instead.”

“It will appease your father,” Mrs. Martinez returned. “What is so unappealing about this suitor, corazón? He is a baron, perfectly pleasant, and exceedingly handsome. Is that not pleasing to you?”

Unbidden, thoughts of Ethan’s piercing blue eyes taunted her. It was all she could think about for the past few weeks. Her traitorous mind recalled the feel of his lips, surprisingly soft against hers, his hands clinging on to her waist, and the sound of her name in his spellbinding voice.

Lilac shook her head imperceptibly. At once, she dismissed all thoughts of the man who wanted nothing to do with her.

Mrs. Martinez waited for an answer.

“Lord Carrick is decent enough,” she admitted hesitantly. “Though I believe you and father are overestimating his interest in me. As you said, he is a wealthy, handsome baron, which makes him the most eligible bachelor in the area. He cannot seriously consider the daughter of a foreign merchant who is almost six and twenty.”

“I would not be so sure of that, dear,” her companion returned sagely. “He seems completely besotted. I would expect an offer any day now.”

Lilac allowed herself to consider that. She had been so close to being a spinster that the thought of marriage had not crossed her mind in recent years. Her plan had been to study and practice medicine, even if they both had to be clandestine.

That was all her heart desired.

At least, it was all it desired up until a few months ago.

“Could we please stay a bit longer?” was all she replied with, determined to change the subject.

Mrs. Martinez sighed, defeated for the time being. “Alright, dear,” she allowed. “We can stay for another hour. That might be all the time we can get away with before your father starts asking questions.”

Lilac nodded, already thinking of ways to turn that hour into two. After Mrs. Martinez set off for the Edenbrook gardens she loved so much, Lilac continued her journey down the hall.

The study, once the source of so much happiness, sent an icy stab of despair through her at first glance. Lilac forced it aside and began browsing through the vast collection of books.

She had just opened her selection to an interesting chapter when the door of the study opened.

“You promised me an hour, it's only been thirty–”

Lilac stopped abruptly as she whirled around, eyes landing on the tall, broad shouldered figure at the doorway that was decidedly not Mrs. Martinez.

Doctor Ethan Ramsey stood before her, hair windswept and handsome face bright from the biting breeze outside. The early September sun shining through the tall windows cast an almost inhuman glow upon him, making him appear as destructively beautiful as ever.

He looked just as shocked to see her, frozen mid stride.

The silence that followed was loaded and wildly tense.

Lilac opened her mouth, determined to break the unbearable pause. No words came to mind, however, paralyzed as she was by his presence and the way her chest ached for him.

It was debilitating and she loathed it.

Ethan, meanwhile, quietly observed her in the silence, eyes ablaze with an emotion she couldn't quite place, one that kindled a warmth in the pit of her stomach. It was as though he was struggling to decide if she was real and standing before him.

It forced Lilac to finally look away, a painful knot in her throat.

“I did not think you would still be here–” he blurted at the same time she hurriedly said, “I thought you were in London, otherwise–”

They both cut off at the same time.

Mortified and heart a thundering chaos, she wished for nothing more than to disappear into the ground.

She cleared her throat, refusing to look at him.

“My apologies, sir,” she started with as much grace as she could manage. “I only wished to borrow a book for my studies. I will be taking my leave–”

“No,” he said much too quickly. She glanced at him, instantly regretting her weakness.

Ethan was watching her, eyes roaming her face.

“You can stay, Ms. Allende,” he said and the formal mode of address sent a little pang through her.

Lilac, torn between fleeing from the heat of his gaze and the longing to finally be in his presence again, opened her mouth to argue. Ethan shook his head, perhaps knowing what she was about to say.

“I insist,” he continued, unyielding. “I have a house call with a patient anyway so you will not be disturbed here.”

Before she could protest, he picked up his medical kit from a nearby table and retreated. As the door closed behind him, the ache in her throat swelled, her heart shattering into impossibly smaller pieces.

_______________

III.

Thoughts of beautiful green eyes, appearing dim and forlorn as they fell on him, haunted Ethan when he finished that evening’s house call. He threw the empty vial into his bag with more force than necessary, desperately pushing the specter of Lilac Allende’s disdain away.

“Goodness!” his patent exclaimed, reminding Ethan of where he was. “Is my condition so severe that it inspires such an outburst from the most reserved man I have ever met?”

Slightly embarrassed, Ethan turned to the older woman who watched him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. In her frail state, the widowed baroness looked somehow smaller.

He offered her a tentative smile. “You are vastly improving with every visit, my Lady. Whatever it is you are doing to improve your condition, continue it twice as often.”

At this, she laughed, the sound almost sounding like a croak. “Then I shall double my efforts to avoid forming a scowl and laughing at the men foolish enough to wear one.” She threw Ethan a significant look.

He couldn’t help but laugh at that, the first genuine laugh in weeks. Ethan liked the baroness well enough. It was her son, on the other hand, whom he couldn’t stomach.

Almost as if summoning him with the thought alone, the door of the bedchamber opened to allow for the baron’s entrance.

Lord Carrick sauntered in with a stride that commanded respect, even if the man himself did not entirely deserve it. He was tall, though not taller than Ethan, and many women often referred to him as handsome. For a wild moment, Ethan wondered if Lilac found the baron handsome as well, before he forced himself to remember that he had no right to wonder about her thoughts.

The ever-present sneer broadened when Lord Carrick’s eyes fell on Ethan. “How is my mother?” he inquired, skipping all pleasantries. Ethan was glad for that. There was only so much social conversation he could endure and he had spent it all with the baroness.

“She has improved greatly since my last visit,” Ethan replied, unable to keep the terse edge from his voice. This seemed to entertain the baron greatly for his lips curled further in derision.

Suppressing the sudden urge to hit him, Ethan added, “However, she should continue to get plenty of bed rest in addition to the medicine I am administering for the pain.”

The baroness’s lively smile faltered ever so slightly at the words "bed rest". Lord Carrick, noticing his mother's shift, let out a bark of a laugh, loud and imposing as everything else about him.

“You will have to forgive my mother, Dr. Ramsey,” he said with a cheerfulness that was entirely too artificial to Ethan's ears. “You see, she was eagerly awaiting the grand ball we will be hosting here at Kenmore tomorrow evening.”

Ethan had received the invitation, sent out of social obligation no doubt. He had cast it aside, giving it no thought since.

The baroness gave a small delighted squeal at the mention of the event. “Dr. Ramsey, you must join us! All of the most influential families from all over will attend. It will be a most delightful occasion indeed!”

Ethan planned to avoid it for all those reasons precisely. Instead of offering empty promises, he remained silent.

The baron, on the other hand, was watching Ethan with interested, narrowed eyes, as though carefully measuring his reaction. In a tone that he no doubt believed to be casual, he said, “Yes, Doctor, you must attend. The evening promises to be particularly joyous as I intend to secure an engagement.”

Ethan remained very still, offering no perceptible reaction that would betray the cold dread coursing through him. He was not entirely sure what prompted him to respond, but he said, “I was not aware you were to be married.”

“I am,” the other man replied at once, with an acute possessiveness Ethan did not miss. “I just returned from speaking to her father and happily securing his approval.” A deliberate pause, then, “Excellent family, the Allendes. Miss Lilac Allende is no doubt the greatest beauty in the county. Don't you agree?”

But Ethan had stopped listening at the mention of her name, an icy, iron fist clenching around his insides. He could not explain away the abrupt hollowness in his chest or the way his throat constricted painfully.

“Doctor?” the baroness asked with concern.

Ethan was not entirely sure he responded. In fact, he did not remember with certainty if he said any goodbyes before he left Kenmore with haste. One minute, he was inside the grand estate, the next he was mounted on his horse, galloping at blinding speed toward Edenbrook.

Except, Edenbrook should have been the last place he should go. Everything about that place reminded him of her.

Lilac.

Soon to be engaged.

Part of him knew this would happen. How could it not? She was lovelier than anyone he had ever set eyes on. Her winning charm was bound to captivate someone eventually. Wasn't he a prime example of what those green eyes could do to a person?

But she was so much more that a lovely face and bewitching, expressive eyes. She was a wealth of compassion and kindness, bestowed freely on anyone who needed it, like the sun giving its warmth selflessly. She was a fierce, determined protector, both for herself and for those who needed a champion. She was a beautiful, brilliant mind, unyielding in its quest to learn more with the sole purpose of improving a bleak world that at times did not deserve her.

She was everything.

His mind whirled aimlessly with a world of thoughts as Ethan commanded his horse to push faster, the obliging beast increasing its speed. The hooves against the grit of the road did little to drown the pounding at his ears. He would give anything— his money, his estate, his damn sanity— to cease all thoughts of her.

And all the while, the goddamn pain in his chest refused to subside.

The biting wind whipped against his face, gray clouds swirling above with the promise of rain. He had only just begun to wonder if he would be caught in the downpour when something small blurred out of a nearby bush, blocking their path.

His horse let out a startled, deafening neigh before throwing Ethan off its back.

A sickening crunch, a wave of blinding pain, and the memory of green eyes before darkness overtook him.

_______________

IV.

The sheer terror that gripped her was debilitating as she ran through fields of tall grass and mud. Every intake of breath was a painful ache, every step arduous with trembling knees. Lilac did not know how her weightless body had the will to carry her, but it did not cease until Edenbrook loomed closer.

She halted at the grand entrance of the estate, breathless and eyes stinging with unshed tears, the note that delivered the dreadful news clutched painfully in her fist. There to greet her was Dr. Banerji, though his unsmiling, melancholic demeanor did nothing to comfort her.

“Is he–?”

“He’s alive,” he assured her solemnly.

But she did not dare to feel relieved until she saw him herself.

She discovered she was entirely wrong mere minutes later when the sight of his bandaged body brought little solace to her. Her feet carried her to his bedside with such resolve that she did not pause to apologize to the startled servant she almost shoved aside. An invisible rope tugged her to him, as it always had since perhaps the moment she met him, except this time, it would not be abated until she sat by his side.

Very gingerly, she took his uninjured hand in hers.

He was asleep, chest rising and falling gently. Lilac bit her lip to suppress an onslaught of emotion. The sight of him vulnerable and broken was a sacrilege. He should be awake, towering over her, fighting back a laugh at one of her dreadful jokes or piercing her with those eyes of his.

Ethan's handsome face was relaxed as he slept, long dark lashes fluttering with every breath he took. In this form, he looked almost peaceful save for the sling around his left arm, the bruises over his bare torso, and the bandage on his forehead already blooming with blood.

Dr. Banerji moved to tend to the wound but Lilac intervened.

“Please,” she pleaded quietly. “Let me.”

He gave her a kind, understanding nod. “I shall give you a moment with him,” he added, his benign eyes falling on their joined hands.

After Dr. Banerji exited the room, accompanied by the servants, Lilac set to work on his wound. She meticulously washed her hands in a nearby basin and carefully doused fresh gauze with carbolic acid, just like he had taught her. Very carefully, she began to clean the wound.

The sting of the acid caused him to stir, his head rolling slowly from side to side in protest. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open.

When his bleary eyes finally focused, they found hers at once, with a flash of disbelief to see her there.

“You're here,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with disuse.

“I am,” she assured him.

His blue eyes took in every inch of her face before they closed, as if in worship.

“Did I perish?”

Lilac paused at that, caught completely off guard. “No,” she said at last. “But you suffered several serious injuries.”

Ethan laughed, the sound bitter and entirely humorless.

“It's no laughing matter,” she admonished. “You could've died, Ethan.”

Her voice cracked slightly at the last few words.

Ethan's eyes flew open at that, or perhaps at the use of his name. In her distress, she had forgotten all about proper modes of address.

As he looked at her, he seemed unmoved by the severity of the accident. Lilac's temper flared up before she could stop it, fueled by the terror of almost losing him forever.

“How could you be so reckless?”

His eyebrows shot up at that. “How is a house call reckless?” he asked patiently, almost as if asking her to explain a passage on immunization she had found interesting.

“Going on horseback at the heels of a storm? Completely senseless,” she shot back. “You could've taken the carriage, as you always do.”

“I only took the carriage when you accompanied me,” he said calmly.

A small pause in which the unspoken became evident to both. There was no need to use the carriage because she wasn’t his apprentice anymore.

As though reading her thoughts, he shook his head, the movement making him wince slightly. “I am not implying this is in any way your fault. It was simpler to go on horseback, particularly when I was only going five miles to Kenmore.”

Lilac became very still at the mention of the estate.

Moving her eyes away from his, she busied herself with cleaning more gauze with the carbolic acid. She could feel Ethan’s eyes watching her closely, sending a wave through her that made her feel feverish. It was astonishing how he always managed to do that without even uttering a single word.

“You're bleeding again,” she observed when the silence reached its peak.

Ethan said nothing as he continued to look at her. Something flickered in his eyes and she could swear he was willing her—begging her— to share something with him.

It befuddled her.

Unsure of what to say, she directed her attention to his wound.

“Don't move,” she instructed softly.

With a feather light touch, she dabbed the gash. Ethan hissed but otherwise did not protest as she worked.

“How dire is the damage, Doctor?” he asked when she began dressing the wound. He uttered the word with utmost respect and it sent a thrill through her.

Before she could manage a breathless answer, Lilac became acutely aware of how close they were from one another, close enough that a lock of her long, unpinned hair brushed against his naked chest as she worked.

Ethan's hooded eyes traced its path.

Time stood still in the dim room, the air crackling with heavy tension.

Ethan’s chest began to rise and fall in quick succession as he regarded her, making her fingers tremble. When she finished her work, she remained frozen in place, the heat of his body, the hypnotizing smell of his cologne, and the ardor of his eyes transfixing her entirely.

Very slowly and with bated breath, she moved her eyes to meet his.

He was watching her with a tenderness so pure and sincere, she was certain she would remember it until the day she died. The muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed, his face tense with a pained expression. He remained unmoving, as though afraid that any sudden movement might make her disappear.

“Lilac,” he whispered, the sound so adoring, it tugged at her chest.

Her fingers, which still rested on the fresh dressings of his wound, slowly trailed down his face. Ethan closed his eyes.

“You should rest,” she whispered back.

He was already obliging, his muscles relaxing under her touch.

“Don't go,” he murmured, half conscious.

Her throat constricted with emotion as she watched him succumb to exhaustion. The thought that she could have easily lost him forever sent a fresh shock of panic through her body. If that terrible prospect had become a reality, Lilac didn’t think she could survive it.

Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she pressed her lips gently to his forehead. The gesture felt so undeniably right that she decided then she was exactly where she belonged.

At his side.

“I won't,” she promised as sleep claimed him.

_______________

Rain pattered gently against his bedroom window when he awoke, his body feeling like lead. He groaned when he shifted on the bed, pulling at his injured arm. His head throbbed painfully, and when he reflexively reached up, his fingers touched the neat dressings of a wound.

The memories of her fingers against his skin came in a flash.

Ethan sat bolt upright, instantly regretting the action as pain shot through his arm again. He swallowed it down, eyes scanning the dim bedchamber, desperate to see her.

“She's not here,” Naveen said from the armchair in the corner of the room.

Ethan sank back into the mound of pillows, his head threatening to split open. Unsolicited, the memory of Carrick's proclamation before the accident echoed in his mind. If his mental calculations were correct, the Kenmore ball was last night.

“Right,” he said, masking all disappointment from his expression. “She is engaged now.” His chest felt oddly hollow at the words.

A brief memory of the previous day replayed in his head. Lilac, so close to him that the lovely smell of her jasmine perfume tormented his senses. His half conscious whisper, begging her to stay with him instead of going to Kenmore.

Naveen, on the other hand, was giving him an odd look that was equal parts befuddlement and concern. “That head injury is worse than I thought,” he said in response. “What on Earth are you going on about?”

“The Kenmore ball,” he said simply as though that was enough explanation. His mentor looked even more confused and slightly more alarmed. Ethan pressed on, “Tobias Carrick was going to propose to Lilac at that ball.”

Naveen's eyebrows shot up. “Well, unless Tobias Carrick is gifted with telepathy, I can assure you that did not happen.”

Ethan blinked.

His shock amused Naveen for he chuckled. “Miss Allende did not go to Kenmore last night,” he explained. “She's been at your bedside this whole time. Quite stubbornly, might I add.”

Ethan had no words, too overwhelmed by the sense of hope blooming in his chest.

Another laugh from Naveen, before he added, “And even if that poor girl had left your bedside to attend a frivolous Kenmore ball, what makes you believe she would ever accept Lord Carrick? Should I really be that concerned for your head?”

Ethan ignored this as a sudden urgency overtook him.

Last night, he had felt only half awake and nowhere near coherent enough to properly tell her what he had realized before he fell off that horse, what his heart already knew and silently harbored for many months. Coming so close to death made him realize that he had to let her know, he had to tell her what threatened to make his chest burst.

“Where did she go?”

“She said she was going to the Edenbrook gardens for– Where are you going?”

Ethan ignored Naveen's protests about bed rest.

He found her twenty minutes later after a reluctant servant helped him get dressed.

Unaware of his presence, she serenely walked down the cobblestone path, protected from the slight drizzle of rain by the thick foliage forming a lush, green tunnel. She wore a thick coat but no hat, her dark hair loosely pinned and falling in waves down her back.

Among the flower beds lining the path, she looked a lovely addition to their midst.

Lilac turned when he was mere feet away, surprise evident in her features, closely followed by disapproval. “Dr. Ramsey,” she said by way of greeting. “You should be resting.”

“I had to see you,” he told her, foregoing any preamble. He was done concealing the truth.

This made her pause briefly.

When she recovered, she said, “I was to return in a few minutes.” Then gesturing toward the estate, she added. “We can go in together.”

When he made no effort to move, she arched a delicate brow at him.

“What I have to tell you cannot be delayed.”

“What could possibly be so important that–”

“I love you.”

The three words, uttered so calmly and undeniably, adorned the long silence that followed.

Looking entirely startled, Lilac inhaled a small breath, the air catching at her throat softly.

Before Ethan could lose his newfound bravery, he continued, “From the very first moment you assessed me with those brilliant eyes of yours I became enraptured. Unknowingly, I placed my heart in your hands, Lilac, where it stayed all those months we worked together and where it remains today.”

Her beautiful lips parted, eyes shining bright with an emotion he did not dare to analyze just yet. Somewhere above them, the rainfall hastened, droplets of water drumming against the dense canopy of leaves.

“Ever since that first time you broke into my study, your passion, your fierce determination inspired me to be a better man. I was–I am willing to give you anything you wish for. Even if that means a mentor or a friend or an advocate to march into St. Bard's and demand they allow you into their medical school. Anything you want, Lilac. I will not be thoughtless enough to make the choice for you again.”

“Ethan.”

The sound of his name from her lips was like a song and he briefly closed his eyes to worship it.

“I was arrogant to push you away,” he continued, driving all his efforts at keeping his voice even. “I foolishly believed I knew what was best for you. I never once paused to ask you what you wanted. It made me no better than the people all around telling you what you can and can't be. For that, I hope you can forgive me someday.”

Another silence in which the only sound came from the rain falling softly over their heads.

Lilac stared up at him, standing perfectly still, as though taking in his every word like a breath of fresh air. Very slowly, she moved closer to him, her face giving him no indication of her intentions.

He held a breath, throat tight, heart beating wildly in anticipation. For a moment, he considered the possibility of her rejection and he instantly knew it would not matter. All he wanted was for her to know his true feelings, with no reservations and not expectation of anything in return.

After what seemed like an eternity, she moved even closer and took his hand.

“You would give me anything I desire?”

“Anything.”

Her thumb skimmed over the ridges of his knuckles. Ethan glanced down, the sight of their joined hands overwhelming him with foolish hope.

“You have already given me what I longed for the most,” she said, her face so sincere he had never been more captivated. “You have made me your equal.”

The rain was a torrent around them by now.

“All there is left is you. I want all of you, Ethan.”

“You have me.”

And that was all the encouragement she needed. Closing the last few inches between them, she raised herself on the tips of her toes to kiss him.

Though he remembered her kiss faithfully, his lips moved against hers in desperation, hoping to memorize their softness over and over again. Ethan's hands found their place at her waist, hers around his neck, their bodies fitting as perfectly as if they were designed to be that way.

They remained as such, bodies and lips pressed together, until they were both breathless.

Ethan pressed his forehead against hers.

“I know you do not wish for a husband, otherwise I’d–”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Tobias Carrick,” he explained and Lilac pulled back slightly to roll her eyes.

“I would never marry a man idiotic and presumptuous enough to announce an engagement before asking me,” she declared with such conviction that his desire for her multiplied.

“My refusal to marry him stemmed from common sense,” she continued, every word against Carrick making it far more difficult for Ethan to keep his lips from hers. “Not from not wanting a husband,” she continued. “I wish to marry only the man I am desperately in love with.”

The deliberately charged look she gave him broke a smile across his face.

He kissed her again.

_______________

Epilogue

A year later.

“A patient for Dr. Ramsey,” the servant announced at the door of their study.

After the young girl’s departure, Lilac glanced up from her notes to shoot her husband a quizzical look. “Which Doctor Ramsey do you believe they seek?”

Ethan offered her a loving and equally charming smile, one he knew had a powerful effect on her. She tried not to be distracted by it, though she failed miserably.

“Perhaps the best out of the two,” he replied. “Which undoubtedly means you, love.”

Lilac rolled her eyes and she bit her bottom lip, attempting to restrain a smile.

Her husband’s eyes fell on her mouth at the movement, that familiar spark of longing glinting in their depths. In one swift movement, he crossed the length of the study and just as quickly, he had her in his arms and pressed against his desk.

Her surprised yelp gave way to a peal of laughter.

“We’re in the study,” she pointed out, breathless. Ethan did not seem to hear her as his lips had set to work on her neck. He made it very difficult to protest. “We can’t.”

“That’s never stopped us before,” he argued, his voice a hot whisper against her throat.

“I meant because we have a patient,” she returned.

At that, he straightened and pressed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Right as always,” he murmured.

Lilac took a brief moment before parting to study him, his beautiful, chiseled face sending a rush of heat through her. Those quiet, striking eyes surveyed her curiously.

“What?”

“I love you,” she informed him.

Ethan beamed, the simple gesture making him look younger. She would never tire of the sight as long as she lived.

He pressed an adoring kiss to her hand.

“As I love you.”

_______________

Author’s Note: I want to cry with gratitude if you made it this far in this crazy, thirteen thousand word saga. (I’ve never in my life written anything this long, so you have my gratitude forever). A big thank you to everyone who read, liked, and/or commented the other two parts. Your support means everything to me. I have no words, just love for you.

Again, pardon the title. This one was named after a beautiful poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

________________

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #My writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #Ethan ramsey x mc #dr. ethan ramsey #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

237 notes · View notes

forgottenblacksister · 3 years

Text

PureBlood Crap

Screaming. Fighting. Spells flying around the room. Wasn't exactly how Narcissa remembered her sisters. A terrible laugh that only a few years ago was so light and joyful. A voice which hadn't changed at all, although the words were entirely different. The hands around her waist, pulling her away from the scene, and she was now the one screaming.

“Let me go!” she screeched, though it was inaudible over the ear shattering sound of glass breaking. She began kicking and fighting, but the arms were too strong, pulling her further and further away. “Let me go!” she tried again, this time, she was dropped to the ground.

“How about a thank you next time, Ssia?” Lucius responded coldly, walking through the woods away from the scene. She tried to get back up and run towards her sisters, but she was stopped by a hand yet again. “It's not worth it. There's no saving her now. Bella won't let either of you live if you try and save her.”

“No!” this time, she was able to get out of his grasp. “You are not my husband yet, you do not get to control me. They are my family. The only one I’ve got, I have to make sure neither of them get hurt.”

“That is not your responsibility,” his voice boomed and echoed. Birds flew away and squirrels ran to safety. “If they choose to fight so be it. It's not worth it anyway. In a few days, Bellatrix will be taken to Azkaban and Andromeda will return to her mudblood husband. And to you, none of this will have ever happened,” he tried to grab her again, but Narcissa fought back.

She waved her wand and Lucius flew back ten feet. “You will not be the monster my father was, do you understand?” she stood over him, and she honestly thought she saw him tremble. “I love them. They are my sisters, even if Bella is insane and Andromeda is a blood-trader. If you want to marry me, you will understand that I will always love them more than I will ever love you. End of story.”

Lucius gave up trying to fight. “Go,” he whispered, aware of the risk he would be taking if he said otherwise. What is seldom mentioned about the marriage between Narcissa and Lucius is that it was a far better deal for the Malfoy’s than it was for the Black’s which meant that before they were legally married, whatever she said, went.

Narcissa began running, as fast as she could, towards the sounds of her sister’s voices. As she got closer, she began to see the lights from their wands, still going at each other. What she needed was for one of their spells to meet. Then, and only then, would she be able to get them both unarmed at the same time. So she slowed down slightly and hid behind a tree until her moment.

“I'm sorry that you will never know love, Bella, but that is not my fault,” Andromeda yelled, and then it happened. The bond was formed.

A third spell entered and the two girls were knocked back, wands flying towards the third girl. “Is this what we have come to? Hurting each other? It's not right.”

“Oh what do you know of right and wrong?” Bellatrix began crawling towards her. “Hand me my wand Sissy, then you will see the right from the wrong,” as she got closer, Narcissa pushed her back.

“You will apologize for hurting each other,” she demanded, watching her sisters, both panting and bleeding. Neither of them said anything. “Oh get over yourselves,” she screamed, startling them both. “Bella, you already know the ministry is looking for you. And Andy, you have your baby girl to go home to. So just say your sorry so we can move on with our lives!”

Her outburst startled them all, though the two were still too stubborn to apologize. “Black’s never say sorry, Cissa. You know this,” Andromeda responded, wiping at the blood dripping for her mouth.

“Well lucky for you, I'm the only Black here anymore,” she was still screaming, her anger getting the best of her. “Now I have to go home because I’m getting married tomorrow and I don't have time for this foolish sibling rivalry. So apologize. Now.”

“I'm sorry, Bellatrix.”

“I suppose I'm sorry as well, Andromeda.”

Narcissa took a deep breath and calmed her nerves. “All I wanted was to see Andy before I got married, without mother finding out. That didn't seem like too much to ask. Now, I'm standing in the middle of the woods, holding your wands because you two are too bloody immature to put your past behind you for one bloody hour so we can pretend like there isn't a war going on and we’re not all constantly worried about death. That isn't too much to ask for,” her voice was calmer, though her words somehow angrier.

“Please, Cissa, I didn't mean to upset you-” Andromeda tried, taking a step closer to her sister.

“No!” Narcissa threw all three of the wands in her hand on the ground. “Leave, Andy,” she demanded. “I never should’ve invited you here,” tears began dripping down her face as she spoke the final words.

“Cissa, please. We could-” she tried again.

“I told you to leave!” She screamed. So Andromeda picked up her wand and apperated out of the woods.

That's when Bella began laughing. Her laugh was so different, so cruel. It made the hairs on Narcissa’s neck rise and her eyes slam shut, trying to imagine that the noise wasn't coming from her dear older sister. “Good job, Sissy. It’ll be much easier-” but Narcissa cut her off as well.

“No, Bella. Nothing about this is easy. And it's all thanks to you,” she wiped her tears and picked up her own wand, pointing it at her sister. “If you hadn't demanded that we let Him use our house, you would've never married Lestrange. Then Andy would’ve never had to marry, and she wouldn't have left. And then I wouldn't have had to marry either. So it's your fault, Bella. It's always been your fault.”

“Sissy,” Bellatrix held her arms up in surrender. “Everything I have done, I have done for the protection of you and our family. I’ve simply been looking out for you all along. And this is my thanks?” she pouted and tilted her head.

“You’re wanted by the ministry for using the killing curse, Bella. I-I can't even invite you to the wedding I'm forced to have because of you, because if you show up, you’ll be taken to Azkaban. I’d hardly call that looking out for me, Sissy,” she used the nickname so harshly, it through Bellatrix off guard.

She stood silent for a few moments, and it looked like Bellatrix was honestly thinking things over in her head. “Give me my wand, Narcissa,” she said sweetly. “And you’ll never have to worry about me again. I promise.”

So Narcissa took her word, lowered her own wand and allowed Bellatrix to pick hers up off the ground. Then Bella was gone, and Narcissa stood alone in the woods.

The next day, September 22nd, 1979, Narcissa married Lucius. She said her vows and agreed to everything she had to agree too. Neither of her sisters were there. Her little cousins, the one she had always secretly looked out for while at school, were both not there. At this point, almost all of her family was imprisoned, in hiding, or dead. Yet she could feel sad about it. She had to stand up tall next to her new husband and wait to be bossed around like a sack of potatoes for the rest of her life. But she did it, because she knew that it was what needed to be done.

Nine months later, she had a baby. Thankfully, it was a boy. That meant Narcissa would never again have to sleep in the same bed as her husband. The boy was named Draco Lucius, and she didn't even have to worry about him, as her husband handed him off to the house elves and left the manor again.

Just over a year passed, and her husband remained absent. However the bank vault remained full, so she gave no complaints. His absence allowed Narcissa to spend as much time with her son as she wanted, though that luxury was taken from her far too soon. The dark lord fell, and her husband returned home. He, like many death eaters, was placed on trial in November of 1981, but due to his connections at the ministry, he was able to escape unharmed.

Narcissa thought that was the end. She assumed, there was nothing else she would have to worry about. She was wrong. The first week in December, she received a visitor, a woman that two years prior had agreed to leave her alone.

“Sissy,” Bellatrix hugged Narcissa when she answered the door. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

“We said our goodbyes long ago, Bella. Tell me what it is you really need,” she tried to keep herself as calm as she could, though it was hard. The woman in front of her had put her in the life she lived in, it was her fault, and it was hard not to hate her for it.

“I’ve done it this time,” Bellatrix stated, laughing and handing her sister her wand. “They’re really coming to get me now, and then, I’ll be sent to Azkaban. You keep my wand, Sissy, for when he returns, and I regain my freedom, I’ll need it, and you will be waiting right here with it,” she kissed her sister on the cheek and disappeared.

Narcissa thought about destroying the wand right then, but she thought better of it. Instead, she placed it on her mantle and moved on with her life. But her sister was right, for when the time came, she did exactly as she had been asked. She allowed her son to become a monster, all because she had felt so powerless.

The only thing that she ever believed gave her any redemption was her final act for the dark lord. The lie which saved the wizarding world, all because she truly loved the son whom she was never allowed to care for.

She escaped that night, ungrateful son, and ungrateful husband beside her. She would never receive any recognition for her act. She would never see either of her sisters again, as Bellatrix was killed that very day, and Andromeda wouldn't allow Narcissa anywhere near Teddy, unrightly blaming her for Nymphadora’s death.

Narcissa Black was a strong girl, with strong sister’s by her side. But Narcissa Malfoy was utterly powerless and alone. That is the legacy she leaves behind. That is what pureblood traditions do to a person. They stole everything from her. They turned her into an emotionless monster. But when it mattered most, Narcissa remembered her childhood. She remember how her sisters used to be, and she saved everyone from the torture which she had to deal with her enire life. It wasn't much, but Narcissa did what she needed. Because she would always be the youngest Black sister, and she would always fight for what she knew was right, even if everyone around her told her she was wrong.

#harry potter #narcissa black #narcissa malfoy #draco malfoy #hp fanfic #bellatrix lestrange #the noble and most ancient house of black #ao3

13 notes · View notes

dustedmagazine · 3 years

Text

Dust Volume 7, Number 5

Sarah Louise

A week or two before this Dust’s deadline, we got our first tour announcement by email in more than a year. It was the first of deluge, as live music looks to be coming back with a vengeance starting this summer and really picking up steam around September. Meanwhile, we celebrate our newly vaxxed (or for our Canadian correspondents half-vaxxed) status with tentative steps outside. Your editor had her first beer at a brew pub in mid-May, and it was stupendous. Also stupendous, the onslaught of new music, which has, if anything, accelerated. This month, contributors include all the regulars plus a few new people: Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Patrick Masterson, Ray Garraty, Tim Clarke, Andrew Forell, Ian Mathers, Bryon Hayes, Jonathan Shaw and Chris Liberato. Happy spring, happy normal and happy listening!

Amulets — Blooming (The Flenser)

Blooming by AMULETS

Like a lot of us, Portland-based noise artist Randall Taylor discovered the solace of long walks during the pandemic. His work, which has always used tape degradation to explore the intersection of time, loss and technology, shifted to incorporate another source of decay: the natural world. So, in opening salvo, “Blooming,” alongside blistering onslaughts of eroded guitar sound, it is possible to hear the sounds of a fertile garden — birds, insects, air movement. You can nearly smell the flowers and feel the sunshine on your skin. “The New Normal” explores sounds of creaking, friction-y word and metal, alongside pristine chimes of synthetic tone. It is uneasy, with skittering string-like squeaks and swoops, but also deeply meditative; it shifts from moment to moment from anxiety to provisional acceptance, much as we all did last year, staring out our windows. Overall, the tone is elegiac, gorgeous, but Randall does not hesitate to introduce dissonance. “Heaviest Weight” thunders with frayed bass tones, a weight and a threat in their subliminal pulse. The contrast between that ominous sound and purer, clearer layers of melody, makes for unsettling listening—are we at war or peace, happy or sad, agitated or calm? And yet, perhaps that’s the point, that the past year has been swirl of feelings, boredom alongside anxiety, hope lighting the corners of our listlessness, the smell of flowers pleasing but faintly reminiscent of funerals. Blooming decocts this mix into sound.

Jennifer Kelly

Astute Palate — S-T (Petty Bunco)

Astute Palate by Astute Palate

Astute Palate is a hastily assembled group of rockers summoned to support David Nance in Philly on a date when he couldn’t bring the David Nance Band. Participants included Richie Records proprietor Richie Charles, Lantern’s Emily Robb, Writhing Squares/Purling Hiss/all around Philadelphia regular Daniel Provenzano on bass and, of course, Nance himself, all huddled together in Robb’s recording studio for a weekend together. None of this origin story does justice, however, to the pure liquid fire of this one-off musical collaboration, dominated by Nance’s viscous, distorted blues-inflected guitar wail, but knocked sideways by brute force drumming, wild hypnotic bass lines and the ritual incantation of Nance (and later Robb) singing. The long “Stall Out” does anything but, rampaging free-range in unbridled Crazy Horse/Allmans-style abandon for close to ten minutes without a single sputter. “A Little Proof” is somehow simultaneously heavier and more country, spinning out the soul-blues jams like a younger, unrulier cousin to MC5. “Treadin’ Schuylkill” gives Provenzano the spotlight, opening with a growling bass solo soon joined by heavy psych guitars (a nod, perhaps, to the illustrious locals in Bardo Pond). If Nance et. al. can pull stuff this fine out in a stray road warrior weekend, what are the rest of you doing with your lives?

Jennifer Kelly

Axis: Sova — Fractal (God?)

Fractal - EP by Axis: Sova

Axis: Sova is a combo of three Chicago guys plus one drum machine, which had already been inactive for two or three seasons before the initial COVID lockdown. This digital EP is their way of clearing up some business that could no longer remain undone. The title tune, “Fractal USA,” is a remake of a song from the early days, when the “band” was Brett Sova’s solo project, to full-on, no your pants aren’t tight enough rock band. They just needed you to know about the evolution, you see, so go ahead, do some scissor kicks and gurn while they windmill away; you have enough money saved up from not seeing live music to pay the inevitable chiropractor bill. “Caramel” hypothesizes that a Cluster song that’s played twice as loud and twice as long is twice as good; not sure if I agree, but it’s still not bad at all. Maybe you got a little weird after a few months of putting on your best mask for your daily trip to see if the stimulus check was in the mailbox? The Brenda Ray-meets-Old Black mash up, “(Don’t Wanna Have That) Dream,” is proof that while you were alone, you weren’t alone. If you’ve made it this far, you don’t need to have the fourth track described, so let’s just say that it’s longer.

Bill Meyer

Mattie Barbier — Three Spaces (self-released)

three spaces by mattie barbier

While perhaps best known as half of the trombone-centric new music duo RAGE Thormbones, Mattie Barbier is a member of several other combos and a sonic researcher under their own name. Three Spaces, which is a single, album-length sound file, has the air of experimentation about it. “What do I do,” one can imagine Barbier asking themself, “when I can’t play with other people?” Make music at home, and out of what’s at home, is the obvious answer. But doing isn’t the only point here; the outcome also matters, and while what Barbier has accomplished with Three Spaces sounds quite different from the RAGE Thormbones live experience, it registers quite strongly. Barbier has combined long tones and melodic fragments played on euphonium, trombone and reed organ, that were recorded both inside and outside of their home. Carefully layered, the source material combines into a sound rather like a bell’s toll, which over the course of nearly 39 minutes swells and recedes, but never quite decays; it ends with an imposed rather than natural fade-out. The sound is as deep as it is expansive, inviting the listener to let themselves fall ever father into its realm.

Bill Meyer

Beneath — On Tilt EP (Hemlock Recordings)

On Tilt EP by Beneath

One of the more pleasant surprises this year is the resuscitation of Untold’s Hemlock Recordings imprint. A vital voice in the post-dubstep fracas at the turn of the ‘10s thanks to releases from Hessle Audio’s Pearson Sound (when he was still Ramadanman) and Pangaea, James Blake, FaltyDL and Hodge to name but a handful, the label went dormant following a Ploy 12” in 2017 before the surprise announcement of Londoner Beneath’s On Tilt, which sounds every bit the sensible alliance in practice it looks on paper: These are low-end rumblers with irregular rhythms and spare melodic tics that worm their way into your brain in the best bone-humming fashion (see “Shambling” or “Lesser Circulation” for a good example). Who knows how long the return will last, but for a certain stripe of DMZ-damaged devotee and pretty much no one else, it’ll feel good to have some Hemlock in your life again. Tilt back, pour in.

Patrick Masterson

Black Spirit— El Sueño De La Razón Produce Monstruos (Infinite Night Records)

youtube

More metal comes from South America than Spain, but these Europeans clear the high bar set by Latin America scenesters. The album’s title states that it was inspired by “El Sueño De La Razón Produce Monstruos.” That can testify both to lasting influence of Goya’s art and to the laziness of the current culture which seeks inspiration only from the most popular pictorial art of the past. The track “Ignorance and The Grotesque” perfectly captures the whole mood of the disc: it balances ignorant speeds, undecipherable vocals and grotesque parts with piano interludes and doom-ish atmosphere. It would be better without the grotesque, but that’s probably part of the baggage.

Ray Garraty

Burial + Blackdown — Shock Power of Love EP (Keysound Recordings)

Shock Power of Love EP by Burial

You might worry, occasionally, that Burial was becoming a victim of diminishing returns. Here, as ever, he uses a narrow palette to create tracks that few can emulate. However, even though the music has its rewards, it doesn’t clear the very high bar that his previous work has set. Thus “Dark Gethsemane” rides a 4/4 beat, angelic murmurs, vinyl crackle and a tightly ratcheted build that morphs into a sermon led by the repeated invocation “We must shock this nation with the power of love.” As his vocal samples become more explicit, the mystery of his music fades. This is all promise and no real resolution. “Space Cadet’ likewise sounds both gorgeous and minor with its soul gospel refrain “Take Me Higher” over an old-school jungle beat. At six plus minutes it would have been enough. It continues another three with an almost cartoonish second movement that lacks the subtlety that characterizes Burial’s best work.

Andrew Forell

Colleen — The Tunnel and the Clearing (Thrill Jockey)

The Tunnel and the Clearing by Colleen

While COVID messed with most people’s lives, it was both an endgame and an opportunity for Cécile Schott, the Frenchwoman who records under the name Colleen. She was just coming out of a series of health and personal dislocations, which resulted in her being newly healthy but alone in a new town just as the lockdown came down. Clearly, this was not a time for half measures, so she selected an entirely new instrumental set-up and settled in to make a record that reflected what she’d been through. Out went the viola da gamba and melodica that have figured prominently on her last few albums; in came a Moog synthesizer, a Yamaha organ, a tape echo and a drum machine.

Colleen’s voice, of course, remains the same. Airy and precise, her delivery doesn’t match the gravity of the experiences her songs describe. But that sense of remove is, perhaps, a reflection of one of adversity’s lessons; if you don’t stay stuck, you can wind up somewhere quite different. Between the keyboards’ cycling melodies and the drum machine’s fizzy beats, the music on The Tunnel and the Clearing imparts a sense of motion that carries her light voice along for the ride, dropping painful sentiments and letting them fall behind.

Bill Meyer

Current Joys — Voyager (Secretly Canadian)

youtube

Nick Rattigan has been releasing music under the name Current Joys since 2013, and Voyager is his latest offering. It’s a dramatic and often brilliant collection of songs, bringing to mind the urgent rhythmic drive of Spoon, the dour grandeur of The Cure and the unapologetic emotional heft of Bright Eyes or early Arcade Fire. On Voyager’s standout, “American Honey,” a simple strummed backing and Rattigan’s vocal delivery are potent enough, but it’s the string section that proves devastating, cycling around for multiple punches to the gut. While more stripped-back songs such as “Big Star” and “The Spirit or the Curse” offer some respite along the way, Voyager does prove a little unwieldy. With 16 tracks clocking in at nearly an hour, the album’s execution doesn’t quite live up to its ambition. The wonky tom-tom rhythms of “Breaking the Waves” are more distracting than interesting; a serviceable cover of Rowland S. Howard’s “Shivers” feels more like an acknowledgment of influence than a striking interpretation; and the combined six minutes of the two-part instrumental title track may have worked better as shorter interludes. Nevertheless, plenty of Voyager’s tracks demonstrate Rattigan’s knack for a raw, emotive indie-rock tune.

Tim Clarke

Ducks Ltd — Get Bleak EP (Carpark Records)

youtube

Toronto duo Ducks Ltd celebrates signing to Carpark with an expanded re-release of their 2018 debut EP Get Bleak. The pair — Tom Mcgreevy on vocals, rhythm and bass guitars and Evan Lewis on lead guitar — bonded over a shared love of 1980s indie bands. Their intricately constructed guitar interplay carries the DNA of Postcard and C86 over meaty bass lines that evoke Mighty Mighty as much as Orange Juice and McCarthy. The sprightly music belies the miserablism of the lyrics that focus on FOMO, poor decisions, screen induced isolation, the corrosive impact of gentrification and gig economies. Mcgreevy and Lewis don’t wallow, however. Their jaunty jangle is a paean to the joys of jumping about and singing along with those new favorite songs that suddenly mean everything and will stick with you long after the world’s shit slopes your shoulders.

Andrew Forell

Field Music — Flat White Moon (Memphis Industries)

youtube

It’s easy to take Field Music for granted. Since 2005, the Brewis brothers have been making smartly composed and tightly executed guitar pop with obvious debts to The Beatles and XTC, and all their albums have fallen somewhere along the continuum from good to great (my personal favorites are 2010’s Measure and 2012’s Plumb). Album number eight, Flat White Moon, features the usual balance between Peter’s more pensive, bittersweet numbers with greater focus on piano and strings, such as “Orion From the Street” and “When You Last Heard From Linda,” and David’s funkier, more staccato cuts, such as “No Pressure” and “I’m the One Who Wants to Be With You.” Twelve songs, 40 minutes, tunes for days — what’s not to love? If you’ve yet to get acquainted with Field Music, Flat White Moon is as good an introduction as any.

Tim Clarke

Gabby Fluke-Mogul/Jacob Felix Heule/Kanoko Nishi-Smith — Non-Dweller (Humbler)

non-dweller by gabby fluke-mogul, Jacob Felix Heule, & Kanoko Nishi-Smith

With Non-Dweller, we have a trio of Bay-Area improvisers who certainly do not reside in one place for very long. There is an agitated freneticism about their interactions here, the performers acting like electrons seeking to release energy and break out of orbit. Each player brings a unique collection of timbres to the party with their implement of choice. Heule is a percussionist by trade yet focuses on extended techniques — mainly friction-based — as he wrests an unholy wail from the maw of his bass drum. Fluke-Mogul’s violin sways between tone generator and noise source. Nishi-Smith is a classically trained pianist who here is bowing and plucking the koto, or Japanese zither. The trio spend most of their time in sparring mode, their energies unleashed with synchrony as if in an elaborate dance. It is clear they have collaborated before. Heule and Nishi-Smith have been at it for over a decade; Fluke-Mogul joined the party in 2019. The most gorgeous moments happen when all three players are focused on friction: Heule slides across his drum, Fluke-Mogul soars with their violin and Nishi-Smith gracefully bows her koto. The energy is focused and particles collide, creating waves of tone. The players wrestle intensity into submission, and the ensuing sonorities are unmissable.

Bryon Hayes

FMB DZ — War Zone (Fast Money Boyz \ EMPIRE)

youtube

Ever since FMB DZ got shot and moved out of Detroit, he has continued to release angry music. (He may not be more productive after the assault, but he’s certainly not less so.) War Zone is his latest effort, along with The Gift 3 and Ape Season, and DZ is back in his paranoiac mode and ready for vengeance. That’s hardly unusual in this type of music but DZ stands out because he’s a bit angrier, a bit more pressing and a bit more gifted than the next man. He doesn’t outdo himself in this tape, but rather mostly follows the blueprint of Ape Season. The standout track is “Spin Again.”

Ray Garraty

Ian M Fraser — Berserk (Superpang)

Berserk by Ian M Fraser

Ian M Fraser is kind enough to provide details about how he created and edited Berserk, although relatively few listeners are going to really know what “nonlinear feedback systems and waveset synthesis” are, let alone “sensormonitor primitives auditory perception software”. And fewer still will be able to focus on what that might mean while Berserk is actually playing, because the output of those programs and systems is immediately, viscerally clear. If a computer were actually capable of going rabid, feral, well, berserk, the human mind might imagine it sounds something like this. Over four shorter tracks and the relatively epic 8:26 of “The Cannibal,” Fraser either coaxes or allows (or both) his tools into the equivalent of something like what someone who knew very little about both genres might imagine is like a power electronics act playing free jazz or vice versa. It is absolutely viscerally thrilling (albeit probably easier to repeat at this length of 16 minutes than, say, 50) and will do the track the next time you feel like your brain needs a good hard scrub.

Ian Mathers

Human Failure — Crown on the Head of a King of Mud (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

Crown on the Head of a King of Mud by Human Failure

It’s tough to figure out if the band’s name is meant specifically to apply to D. Cornejo (sole member of Human Failure) or to the general field of human failure, which grows ever more capacious. Whatever the intent, Human Failure makes thoroughly unlovable music, pitched somewhere on the continuum that runs from the primitivist death metal to stenchcore to harsh noise. This reviewer is especially fond (yep, somehow that’s the only word for it) of the title track of this 10” record: “Crown on the Head of a King of Mud” sloughs and slogs along for two minutes, sort of like one of the ripest zombies in Romero’s Day of the Dead (1985), wandering about and slowly falling to pieces in Florida’s tumid heat. Just as that last bit of flesh is poised to slide from bone, the song unexpectedly breaks into a run. Where is it going? What’s the rush? No one knows. Things eventually bottom out into “Disassembling Morality,” a static-and-distortion laden electronic interlude that might squeak and spark for a bit too long — but then “Your Hope Is a Noose” shambles into the frame. That zombie seems to have found some equally noisome and truculent friends. They djent and pogo around for a while, and the song has a lot more fun than seems called for by the band name. Cornejo might be pissed off by the myriad manmade disasters and outright catastrophes that burden the earthball (he’s sure angry as heck about something…). But the record ends up being sort of successful, if deafening, grinding, growling stench is on the agenda. All things considered, why wouldn’t it be?

Jonathan Shaw

Insub Meta Orchestra — Ten / Sync (Insub)

Ten / Sync by INSUB META ORCHESTRA

Ten / Sync was recorded in September, 2020; not exactly lockdown time, but certainly not out of the pandemic woods. It’s no small task to keep any 50-strong orchestra going, let alone one devoted to experimental music. So, if you already have one, then having it perform during a pandemic is just another challenge among many. So, the Swiss-based orchestra assembled three groups of musicians, numbering 31 in all, and assembled their contributions during post-production. While this did not provide the social experience that IMO’s gatherings usually impart to participants, an outcome that just isn’t the same seems awfully representative of the time, right? And since one Insub Meta Orchestra subspeciality is making music that sounds like it was performed by many fewer players than were actually present, this collection of sustained chords concealing tiny actions and apparently disassembled passages is actually very representative of the ensemble’s music.

Bill Meyer

Amirtha Kidambi & Matteo Liberatore — Neutral Love (Astral Editions)

Neutral Love by Amirtha Kidambi & Matteo Liberatore

With her own group, the Elder Ones, and in Mary Halvorson’s Code Girl, singer Amirtha Kidambi shows how far you can take a song while still giving the meanings of words and the boundaries of form their dues. But Neutral Love, like her two tapes with Lea Bertucci, explores the territory outside the tower of song. The main structures for this improvised encounter with electric guitarist Matteo Liberatore seem to be a shared agreement to exclude certain options. Song form and overt displays of chops are right out; the patient manipulation of sounds is where it’s at. Liberatore opts mostly for swelling and subsiding resonations, while Kidambi spends a lot of time finding out what’s hiding at the back of her throat, drawing it out, and then tying it into elaborate shapes. Patient and eerie, these four tracks find a place adjacent to Charalambides at their most abstract, and make it their own.

Bill Meyer

Kosmodemonic — Liminal Light (Transylvanian Recordings)

KOSMODEMONIC - LIMINAL LIGHT by KOSMODEMONIC

NYC outfit Kosmodemonic is among the recent wave of metal bands attempting to effect an organic-sounding synthesis of numerous subgenres: a slurry of sludge, a bit of black metal, a dose of doom, and a hit or two of the lysergic. When it works — as it does on a number of tracks on the band’s long new cassette Liminal Light — it’s an exciting sound. Songs like “Moirai” and “Broken Crown” manage to couple tuneful riffs, dirty tone and a muscular bottom end in ways that feel thumping, groovy and pretty weird. You’ll want to bump your butt around even as you’re looking for something to break. But the tape is pretty long, and the further afield Kosmodemonic gets from that mid-tempo groove, the more middling (and sometimes muddled) the material sounds. “With Majesty” can’t quite find its rhythmic footing in its more technical passages, and the song’s sludgier sections feel like compromises, rather than interesting maneuvers. But the record begins and finishes with really strong songs. Both “Drown in Drone” and “Unnaming Unlearning” embrace scale, letting their big riffs rip. When “Unnaming Unlearning” slips into complex sections of blackened and distorted dissonance, the drama surges. Formal experiment and manipulation of mood fold into each other. The song gets interesting, even as it’s reaching for a peak. And then it ends, suddenly, violently. It’s pretty good. Your impulse is to flip the tape and hear it again, which is just what Kosmodemonic wants you to do. Well played, dudes.

Jonathan Shaw

Sarah Louise — Earth Bow (Self-Released)

Earth Bow by Sarah Louise

Asheville-based songwriter Sarah Louise wants to be your personal nature interpreter. The titles of her recordings, from her debut Field Guide through Deeper Woods and Nighttime Birds and Morning Stars are like planetary signposts pointing to a more intimate relationship with our planet as a living organism. With each successive release, her music has also become more and more organic sounding, culminating with Earth Bow, in which Louise herself is arms deep in humus, communing with birds and insects. Recordings of creation feature prominently; katydids, spring peeper frogs, a creek and various birds are credited as providing additional singing, augmenting the artist’s own mellifluous voice. For a recording in which the track titles and lyrics are focused on nature and Louise’s experiences therein, there are a lot of digital elements. Her 12-string guitar is prominent in places, but synths are everywhere: in the background, bouncing around like shooting stars, and mimicking the various fauna that they accompany. Yet the earthly and the machine-made are not juxtaposed, they are blended. The vocals, which center the recordings, tie both elements together nicely. Earth Bow is a tasty concoction, in which a variety of ingredients are married in botanical bliss.

Bryon Hayes

Le Mav — “Supersonic (Feat. Tay Iwar)” (Immaculate Taste)

youtube

Nigeria’s alté scene has been bubbling for a couple of years now on the backs of guys like Odunsi (The Engine) and Santi, and Gabriel Obi bka Le Mav is no stranger to the fray, having produced Santi’s “Sparky,” Aylø and a recurring favorite of his, singer Tay Iwar. The two have already collaborated at length (for songs off Iwar’s debut album Gemini in 2019, as well as the entirety of last year’s Gold EP), so the comfort level here is established. It shows: Iwar’s smooth-as vocals match Le Mav’s breezy piano descent and gentle rhythmic shuffle in an easygoing song that matches anything you might hear coming from Miguel, Frank Ocean or the Sun-El Musician orbit. “If it feels right, touch the sky,” Iwar suggests early on. Well, don’t mind if I do.

Patrick Masterson

Sugar Minott — “I Remember Mama” (Emotional Rescue)

I Remember Mama by Sugar Minott

At some point after Lincoln Barrington Minott had left Kingston and his early dancehall and lovers rock legacy with Studio One and Black Roots behind for cooler climates and the old world of London, he ran into producer Steve Parr at the Wackies offices. Story goes that the two decided to start up Sound Design Studio with the intent to record and mix for ads, film and music — but scant evidence of this idea exists beyond “I Remember Mama,” released on 7” and 12” in 1985 and reissued for the first time since via Stuart Leath and his long-trusted Emotional Rescue imprint. Parr does most of the work on the recording (Andy MacDonald shines on tenor sax and Paul Uden guitar in the original credits), but it’s all about the sweetness Sugar brings to the table: With backing from two accomplished performers in their own right, Janette Sewell and Shola Phillips, Minott’s naturally relaxed delivery shines through on this. “Sound Design” is a dubbier instrumental version that retains Sewell’s and Phillips’ vocals, and Dan Tyler (half of Idjut Boys) provides an even spacier, handclap-laden 11-minute remix, but while both variants are excellent, the boogie of the original is unassailable. Look for the vinyl to hit in July.

Patrick Masterson

Jessica Ackerley — Morning/mourning (Cacophonous Revival)

Morning/mourning by Jessica Ackerley

It makes sense that Wendy Eisenberg wrote the liner notes to Morning/mourning, since they and Jessica Ackerley are bound by a shared commitment to string-craft. Both have a deep idiomatic foundation in jazz guitar, but neither is willing to be confined by what they’ve learned. In the case of Morning/mourning, that means that patiently paced ruminations upon Derek Bailey-like harmonics sit side by side with frantic but rigorously scripted forays that sound a bit like Jim Hall might if he input the contents of his French press intravenously. This album’s nine tracks observe passings and new beginnings, since Ackerley pulled the recording together while in quarantine, shortly before leaving Manhattan for Honolulu, and titled some of them in tribute to a pair of guitar teachers who were taken by 2020. But in their attention to tone, harmony, velocity and structure, these pieces, like Eisenberg’s records, speak as much to intellect as to emotion.

Bill Meyer

Nadja & Disrotted — Split (Roman Numeral Records)

youtube

It makes a certain kind of sense for Nadja and Disrotted to tackle a split together; although both bands traffic in a particularly foreboding strain of doom metal, they also share a weird sort of comfort. There’s a sense more of horrible things happening around you than to you, like you’re in the eye of the storm or maybe in a bathysphere plunged to crushing depths. There is a precision to the menace, a measured quality to the noise. And they get there when they get there; as Dusted’s Jonathan Shaw pointed out in his review of Disrotted’s Cryongenics, “Pace seems to be the point.” This excellent split doesn’t shy away from these commonalities while still highlighting the distinct timbres of each act, with Nadja settling into and then returning to one of their indelibly titanic bass riffs throughout the 19-minute “From the Lips of a Ghost in the Shadow of a Unicorn's Dream” and Disrotted somehow conjuring the feeling of a massive structure corroding and collapsing on the 15-minute “Pastures for the Benighted”. When the latter slams to a half, one last hit echoing away, the listener may find themselves feeling equally relieved the onslaught is over and kind of missing both sides’ pulverizing embrace.

Ian Mathers

Nasimiyu — POTIONS (Figureight)

P O T I O N S by nasimiYu

Nasimiyu’s songs bounce and shimmy with complex rhythms, her background as a dancer and percussionist for Kabells and Sharkmuffin coming through in the intricate interplay of handclaps, breathy beat-boxing, rattling metal implements, all manner of drums and, not least, her lithe, twining vocal lines. “Watercolor” blossoms out of a burst of choral “la”s, each note allowed to flower briefly before behind cut off with a knife-edge; these are organic sounds shaped with mechanical precision. Against this background, Nasimiyu herself enters, her voice fluttery and syncopated, a bit like Neneh Cherry. The mix is full of separate elements, the backing vocals, a synthesizer working as a bass, handclaps, Nasimiyu’s singing, but the song remains light and translucent. “Feelings,” sings Nasimiyu, “I am in my feelings,” and so, for a moment, are we. Nasimiyu is half Kenyan and half Scandinavian-American, and you can hear a bit of East Africa in the surging sweetness of choral singing on “Immigrant Hustle.” But there’s a post-modern gloss over everything, as the singer brings in sonic elements from jazz, electronica, dance, pop and afro-beat. Yet however many layers are added, the sound remains bright and clear, a bead curtain of musical sensation whose elements click faintly as they brush together, but remain essentially separate.

Jennifer Kelly

Carlos Niño & Friends — More Energy Fields, Current (International Anthem)

More Energy Fields, Current by Carlos Niño & Friends

Multi-instrumentalist and producer Carlos Niño latest album which straddles and largely crosses the line between spiritual jazz and new age ambience features friends from both worlds including Shabaka Hutchings, Jamael Dean, Dntel and Laraaji. Niño, who plays percussion and synthesizer, edited, mixed and produced the album from recordings made in 2019 and 2020 in a variety of settings. The results are largely low-key soundscapes designed to assist meditation on the fields and current of the title. Much evocation of the natural world, chiming eastern influenced percussion and layers of acoustic and synthetic keys that are lovely but tend to lull. It is the slightly disruptive reeds that prick the ears here, Aaron Hall’s plangent tenor on “Now the background is foreground,” Devin Daniels’ alto phrasing on “Together” and Hutchings’ expressive duet with Dean on “Please, wake up.”

Andrew Forell

Shane Parish — Disintegrated Satellites (Bandcamp subscription)

Disintegrated Satellites EP by Shane Parish

The normally ultra-productive Shane Parish didn’t put out a lot of music in 2020, and none of what did come out was recorded that year. It turns out that he was busy giving guitar lessons via zoom and moving from North Carolina to Georgia, but we’re well into a new year and he’s back in Bandcamp. This three tune EP doesn’t declare a new direction, of which Parish has had many, so much as an integration of his interests in American folk music and far Eastern tonalities. Simultaneously familiar and alien, but above all propulsive, it serves notice that the time for reflection has passed.

Bill Meyer

Séketxe — “Caixão de Luxo” (Chasing Dreams)

youtube

The thing that gets your attention about Séketxe is… well, everything: how many of them there are (i.e., how you can’t really tell who’s in the group and who isn’t), how they’re all propellant, a musical bottle rocket bursting out of your speakers, confrontationally in your face on camera — and how much fun it looks like they’re having. Somewhere out there beyond the reaches of kuduro and Mystikal lie the Angolan barks and rasps of this youthful sextet, who trade verses (and a soothing harmony drizzled right across the madness at around 1:40) among one another over an Eddy Tussa sample on a beat by producer about town Smash Midas. What are they on about? My Portuguese is nonexistent, let alone my Luandan slang, but even I can tell that title translates to “luxury casket.” Anyway, it’s bonkers and if you’re looking for a jolt your morning joe doesn’t deliver anymore, Séketxe oughta do it. You’ll never catch me thanking an algorithm, but I guess it’s true the maths can serve it up right every once in a while. Séketxe is the proof.

Patrick Masterson

Tōth — You and Me and Everything (Northern Spy)

You And Me And Everything by Tōth

The title of Alex Toth’s solo debut, Practice Magic and Seek Professional Help When Necessary, alludes to his belief in music as therapy — that there’s an alchemy in the process, yet one that can’t necessarily be depended on to pull you out of an emotional hole when that hole gets too deep. On his new album, You and Me and Everything, all of his recent personal struggles are out in the open. There’s the tale of when he was so fucked up he couldn’t play trumpet at a family funeral (“Turnaround (Cocaine Song)”); there’s leaning on songwriting as a means to process the pain of heartbreak (“Guitars are Better Than Synthesizers for Writing Through Hard Times”); and there’s his ongoing battle with anxiety (“Butterflies”). While such heavy emotional terrain could prove hard-going, Toth approaches everything with a playfulness, a lightness of touch and a gentle haze to the production. Plus, he gets a helping hand from Jenn Wasner (Wye Oak, Flock of Dimes), who lends backing vocals to standout “Daffadowndilly,” which taps into the woozy gorgeousness of prime Robert Wyatt.

Tim Clarke

Mara Winter — Rise, follow (Discreet Editions)

Rise, follow by Mara Winter

For people with busy performance schedules, 2020 posed a problem; how do you stay busy and creative when you can’t do what you usually do? Mara Winter, an American-born, Swiss-based flute player who specializes in Renaissance-era repertoire and instruments, used it to forge a new creative identity. In partnership with experimental composer and multi-instrumentalist Clara de Asís, she began exploring the commonalities between early, composed music and contemporary approaches and developed a platform to disseminate documents of that research into the world. Rise, follow, the inaugural release of Discreet Editions, is an hour-long piece for two Renaissance-style bass flutes played by Winter and Johanna Bartz. The two musicians played long, overlapping tones with contrast attacks, pushing on until they grew so tired from hefting those woodwinds that they just couldn’t play anymore. Effectively the performance unit is a trio, since the two musicians had to accommodate or collaborate with the reverberant acoustics of Basel’s Kartäuserkirche. The church’s echo threw sounds back at the player, turning pure tones into blurred timbres. While the instrumentation is antique, the ideas about sound combination and endurance have more to do with Morton Feldman, Phill Niblock and Aíne O’Dwyer. The result is music that is simultaneously meditative and as heavy as a bench-pressing competition.

Bill Meyer

Wurld Series — What’s Growing (Melted Ice Cream)

What's Growing by Wurld Series

Some reviewers of What’s Growing, the second album by New Zealand’s Wurld Series, have managed to avoid making Pavement comparisons, but it’s hard to fathom their restraint. Brief opener “Harvester” feels like you’re being dropped mid-solo into a random Wowee Zowee track; the guitar tone on lead single “Nap Gate,” on the other hand, sounds like it's nicked straight from Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. And while singer/guitarist Luke Towart doesn’t attempt to match Malkmus’ flamboyance in the vocal delivery department, their voices and wry lyrical observations bear a distinct resemblance to one another. “Caught beneath a dull blade / What a mess that would make” he sings on “Distant Business” before the song reaches its finale where guitar solos blast off from atop other guitar solos in an array of complementary textures. But besides being a ridiculously fun guitar pop record, What’s Growing is also threaded through with a British psych folk vibe replete with Mellotron flute — and the two styles blend seamlessly together thanks to Towart’s partner in crime, producer/drummer Brian Feary (Salad Boys, Dance Asthmatics). So, whether you're looking for a great summer indie rock record or you’ve ever wondered what the Fab Five from Stockton might’ve sounded like if they’d stuck to short songs and had more flutes, this one’s for you.

Chris Liberato

9 notes · View notes