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bktaro · 4 years ago

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rumour (part 1)

erwin smith x f!reader

warning: season 2 spoilers, eventual smut, drinking, one night stand, 18+

click here to read on ao3

summary: there’s a rumour about Erwin Smith amongst the aristocrats of Wall Sina, and you were determined to finally figure out the truth behind it.

“There he is.”

Your eyes followed the direction your friend nudged toward, leading towards the entrance of the ballroom. The grand double doors spread open, welcoming a group of people to into the hall, all dressed impeccably head to toe in their best outfits with matching emerald brooches either wrapped around the collars of their dress shirts, or dangling by a chain around each of their necks.

His tall figure stands in the front of the group, serving as the obvious leader, shoulders broad and chiseled chest puffed out. He doesn't disappoint from your imagination of him at all— he’s just as handsome, if not more, as the rumours claimed him to be.

Erwin Smith, Commander of the Survey Corps had finally made his long-anticipated entrance to the party.

“So, it’s true.” You whispered to your friend; eyes unable to peel away from Erwin. “He indeed is incredibly easy on the eyes.”

His reputation amongst the aristocrats and bureaucrats within Wall Sina was one that sparked a controversial debate depending on who the question was to be asked. To some, he was the genius leader of the Survey Corps that ventured out to seek truth behind the unknown, a job only a select few could ever possess the intelligence to handle. However, to others, he was nothing more than the head honcho of a group of suicidal maniacs wasting taxpayer funds with little to no returnable benefits to the grander society.

You consider yourself part of the first group, especially impressed after his ability to sniff out and take out the illegitimate trash that infiltrated the Military Police and Royal Government— something that you were always disgusted with but were too outnumbered to truly do anything about even as a part of one of the noble families. In your view, he was a daring, brave and admirable soldier, sincerely passionate about what he does.

But as much as you admired his courageous acts, there was a lingering rumour about him you just couldn’t ignore.

“There’s absolutely no chance those raunchy rumours could possibly be true about a man like that.” Your friend’s jaw is nearly on the ground, her eyes glued to every move the tall, blond man made.

A waiter balancing a tray of champagne glasses pauses and offers the drinks to Erwin and his group. Erwin gives a small, charismatic nod in thanks, grasping one of the champagne glasses and tipping the bubbling beige liquid into his mouth. His eyes survey the ballroom, observing the attendees across the room, and he eventually catches you staring at him.

You expect him to look away, ignore it and move on. You haven’t even fully introduced yourself to him yet, and you imagine even if by some chance your father who worked closely with him before had dropped your name or showed a portrait of you in conversation before, he would have never remembered it.

But Erwin surprises you, locking his eyes with yours and giving you a tiny smirk against his champagne glass. It’s more than enough to fuel your confidence, reciprocating him and giving him just a tiny grin back.

“You know what?” You mumble, and your friend looks at you, eyes widening at the realization of the interaction between you and Erwin. “I’m going to see if the rumour is true myself.”

—

The night continues to carry on in the traditionally extravagant ‘Wall Sina’ manner. The bureaucrats and noblemen continue to drink their wines and other alcohols, noblewomen gossiping amongst each other, food continuously being brought out and served, and live classical music playing in the background, allowing the open space of the dance floor to be available for couples to sway along with.

You had split with your friend, sitting with the rest of your family at your designated table and took sips of your own champagne while quietly analyzing the scene in front of you. Your mother is off gossiping with the other noblewomen, and your father being the head of one of few legitimately operating branches of the upper Military Police was busy, most likely drunk in discussion about how ‘finally-those-good-for-nothing-lazy-leaders-all-got-removed-and-got-what-they-deserved” and “now-the-Military-Police-could-finally-regain-its-former-glory’. It’s probably an interesting conversation, but at the moment you were waiting for just one particular thing you know is bound to happen at any second.

And as if he could read your mind, he comes just right on time.

“Look who it is!” Your fathers face is red from the alcohol, a toothy smile spread across his face at the arrival of a new guest at your table. “The man who brought glory back to the military himself— Erwin Smith.”

“Please sir, I wouldn’t have been able to do it all without the support of you and your honorable team.” Erwin’s voice breaks out into a deep laugh, drunk members of your father’s team hollering and even slapping Erwin's back in appreciation. “I hope the evening is treating you well.”

“Good food, good drinks and good company, nothing more I could ask for a good time.” Your father stops, glancing his eyes towards you before continuing his sentence. “By the way, this is my daughter, the one I’ve told you about previously.”

Bingo— the moment you’ve been waiting for was exactly this.

Your eyes look up right into his, the most professional and pleasant smile spreading over your face. Offering a hand outward, you introduce yourself, and Erwin bends forward, taking it gently into his and holding on to your fingers, bringing them up to leave a tender kiss against your knuckles.

“Pleasure is mine to finally meet the daughter the chief has talked so much about.”

“No, no. I take all the pleasure meeting you, Commander. You’ve done such marvellous things for the people of the walls.”

Erwin lets go of your hand, his eyes lingering on yours for a little longer than he knows he should, before he pulls back, facing your father once again.

“Erwin,” Your father begins, taking another sip of alcohol from his cup. “May I request something personal from you?”

Erwin raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but a personal request sure isn’t one of them.

“Of course, sir.”

“My daughter, she’s a smart one. Got into the Military Police on her own too, being top ten in her training year. I plan to pass down my position to her eventually, but only if she proves capable.”

You suppress a laugh from coming out at his words, trying your best to hold a straight face. You knew you were more than skillful enough to handle the position and found it rather cute your father thought otherwise. Not that you particularly felt offended at his words— you were smarter than to let the old man's dated standards of what ‘capable’ meant define your worth. But he was helping you get closer to the Commander Erwin Smith, what more could you do than just sit back and let him set it all up for you?

“I want a great leader like you to teach her more ways in becoming successful that aren’t the out-of-date methods us old folks use. You two are also close in age, I assume it would be much easier to understand one another's viewpoint.”

Erwin's response is nothing short of what you expect him to answer, the corners of his lips turning upwards into a small, confident grin.

“It would be an honor and a privilege to share my knowledge onto such a gifted young woman.” He bends his body slightly down towards you once more, offering the palm of his hand upwards towards you. “Would you be interested in having a discussion about it tonight?”

You eye your father, silently seeking his approval. When he nods his head in a way that is much more enthusiastic than you imagined, you eagerly place your hand onto his, letting him wrap his fingers around your hand.

“Gladly, Commander.”

His hands are large and calloused compared to yours, the years of training and firsthand combat clearly visible in the rough texture of his palms. Effortlessly, he leads you across the dance floor of the ballroom, heading towards the outside veranda that overlooks the city of Stohess, and where the noises from inside the party become muffled behind you.

“You smart, aren’t you?”

Erwin’s hand releases yours, admiring the view of the quiet city of Stohess under the night sky, the side of his body leaning against the railing. His broad statue is overwhelmingly large compared to yours, now emphasized by him standing mere inches away from you.

“Whatever could you mean by that?” You arch an eyebrow, questioning him back.

You’re not an idiot, and neither is Erwin. You’re more than aware he knows exactly what you’ve been scheming.

“I can see right past the facade you put up with your father back there. You’re not interested in the slightest talking strategies to become a better military leader tonight, are you?”

Erwin’s eyes shift to look at you, a knowing glimmer in his eyes in which you can’t help but release a tiny smirk in response.

“You caught me.” You take a step forward, bringing a hand up to rest your palm on the top of his chest. Your fingers traced the muscles of his well-defined chest through his dress shirt, eyelashes batting while looking up straight into his eyes. “Truthfully, I might have asked father to say I wanted advice just as an excuse to talk with someone as impressive as you in private.”

A smug grin forms onto his face. Erwin knew exactly who you were the moment he saw you, the famous beautiful yet intelligent daughter of one of the top Military Police chiefs. He never failed to get any woman he sought after, and he planned on making you no exception to that rule.

He’s enjoying this all just as much, if not more, as you are, internally gloating at it all unraveling quicker than he anticipated— partially due to your cooperation of course.

“You’re just as I envisioned. Quite the vixen.”

“Having daydreams about me already, Commander?”

“Can’t help it, the rumours amongst the soldiers said you were the most stunning woman in the entire Military Police.” Erwin’s gaze flickers from the bottom of your lips and works upwards, meeting your eyes once more. “And I can now confirm the rumours are indeed true.”

You want to roll your eyes, no, you should’ve rolled your eyes. But when such words come out of his mouth, they no longer felt cliched. That was the renowned power of Erwin Smith, he had just the right charm and skill to hypnotize just about anyone with his words.

And rumour had it he was a repeat offender in using this ability skillfully to the advantage of the Survey Corps.

“There also is a rumour floating around about you too, Commander.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You do exactly what you’re doing to me right now, charming and enticing me until I open my wallet to you to aid in the cost of the Survey Corps next expedition. Then to show your gratitude while taking the advantage of the opportunity to release your pent-up desires, you’ll offer me the night of my life, and when morning arises, you’ll be gone without a single word.”

Erwin does nothing at your accusation, staring at you blankly momentarily until breaking out into a low chuckle.

“That’s quite the ridiculous rumour, I must say.”

You embarrassed yourself. You let yourself get too cocky. Rumours were rumours for a reason. Your friend was right, there was no possible way such a dignified man like Erwin Smith would do something like that. Or at least, that’s what you think briefly.

Erwin’s hands find their way to the small of your back, pushing your body closer to his. His face looms over yours, illuminated by the moonlight shining above the night sky, and the smug grin on his face widening before asking you one last question.

“Would you like to make that rumour into reality?”

#erwin x y/n #erwin smut #attack on titan erwin #erwin smith #erwin x reader #aot fic

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robin-the-enby · 4 years ago

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Hey! I love your matchups and I really want one with on the black butler characters.

I am ISTJ and even though I was born in America I come from a Mexican family. So I am fluent in Spanish and English. Along side of Mandarin Chinese (still learning) and Japanese (still learning)

Appearance wise, I have olive skin, long wavy/curly hair that reaches my tailbone (i like putting it in side braid). I also have long bangs that quite often fall over my glasses. And just too lazy to move them. I also have dimples when I smile. I will bite anyone who try poke them.

Personality: I can get hard to know at first because I have trust issues (my heart has been broken okay) . Not too mention people don't try to get know me because of my major Resting Bitch Face. They think I am judging them or that I am scary. But I am not... I am attentive so I will stand up for myself and anyones else. I am patient. Also, after you get to know me you will realize I am a chaotic crackhead with a melodramatic persona. Like "your star is here!" "The stage is calling for me. Move out of my way" "the spotlight is on me so could you move you crusty face?" I like to tease and flirt with the people I am close to. I zone out or daydream a lot. And in the worst times. It could be a serious meeting and I am chuckling because of something in my head. Which have scared people. It could be during a conversation and I will stop listening. But I will always feel bad and apologize.

I also like to scare people. Like tell them the unsolved cases or horrific cases that I know (I love unsolved cases) . This is also why my little siblings hate me. Turns out talking kids murder cases and disapperinv cases was not appropriate for bed time story... woops.....

I like to pop out of nowhere and either flick or playfully punch my friends and say boo. I do accidentally roast people. I don't think before I say things. And don't realize until hours or days later. And I am like "shit"

I am sarcastic and that has gotten me in trouble before. My friend asked for my advice and I didn't know she was being serious. So I gave her a sarcastic advice and she came back to me mad. I was like "shit you believed me?"

Likes/hobbies: i like my anatomy class and I like to read, write, meditate (because I get stressed a lot). I really like to dance and listen to music. Which my music taste is everywhere: Kpop, classical music, jazz, jpop, Spanish songs, rock, metal. Every music genre except for country. I like to play the violin.

My passion lies in the arts and crafts. I would like to do illustration and photography. More specifically street fashion photography and and event photography. Like weddings and funerals. Yes funeral photography does exist and I will like to do it. Since it is also special event. I draw a lot of portraits and landscapes. I have been told that my art is either scary or mysterious. Though I can get a little caught up with my passion. I practice to get better with no rest.

Flaws/toxic traits: I am not empathetic or sympathetic. People always thought I didn't care about my friend's issues. I do i just don't understand them. My compassion does make up for this and will give advice. My other flaw, is the high walls I build to protect myself. I am there for other people. But people were never there for me. People have manupliated me and that cause me trust issues. I don't know how to handle negative emotions like depression, anxiety, self doubt, procrastination. So I just isolate myself in these moods. They really take a toll on me and make me think I can't do my passions. I am afraid of commitment because of toxic relationships i had before.

Love language: I am not obvious with affection. (Because no one ever gave me it). I show it through my teasing and flirting. My love language is however Act of Service. I will help my s/o with anything they need. Chores, work, advice, etc. Sort of the mom of my friend group. But a Savage mom as I have been told. "Stop crying, here I made you a cookie" "do I need to hurt someone" "don't worry I can get coffin with a lock in it". I am also an aggressive supporter. Like "No YOU are beautiful. YOU are gorgeous!" (This happened when someone gives me affection and time try to turn the attention to them as way to hide my fluster)

I will call my s/o like "stupid" "idiot" but in a endearing way. Okay. Occasionally I will use "beloved" and "Cariño/cariña"

I am not good receiving verbal affection or physical affection. I was never given affection so I am not used to it. I will start blushing and stop working. I will also probably say "idiot" or turn the attention to them like "no.. u" but I think fails because I am terrible at hiding my blush. I get easily flustered with affection okay. But I won't ever admit that I like it. Though it is obvious.

Sexuality: i am bisexual so it doesn't matter what gender I am paired up with.

Funt fact i guess?: I love small plants, plushies, and banana milk. Like I have hundreds of different kinds of plants and they each have their own name. Like GGmo, Lily, Melody, Edward. I love Banana milk as I said. I drink it every evening. It always get me happy so when I am sad or had a bad day. I drink banana milk and I am happy. It is also to make up for my coffee addiction. I am addicted to coffee. My friends said no coffee and I was like fine banana milk then :)

This is getting long now... bye.

I'm glad that you like my matchups, I'm trying my best tbh😅 I match you with:

Sebastian Michaelis

Sebastian is very curious in nature, so he definitely wants to know what you're really like, not the front you put on.

He's also very charming when he wants to, he makes it very easy to open up to him and get comfortable around him.

Sure, he, as a demon, doesn't really care much for humans, so when he doesn't have to play the polite, kind butler, he probably has a RBF as well, however, I think that changes when he's interacting with someone he loves.

His sweet words may have been a mask at first, so he could see the real you, but the closer you two become, the more he means every word of praise, encouragment or comfort he utters.

He would most certainly be amused by your crackhead self once you do get comfortable around him, but it's not really his vibe. He wouldn't scold you for being loud, brash or inapropriate, like he does the other servants.

If he's in a really good mood or when the situation calls for it, he can be dramatic as well. Sometimes he'd do it just to get on Ciel's nerves XD

One big pro of being with Sebastian is that he lets you off the hook a lot. If he was talking to anyone else and they'd space out, oh honey, he would stare them down so hard, it's sending chills down my spine just thinking about it. But if it's you it's like a complete 180, Sebastian can't possibly be mad at you, everyone spaces out sometimes, those things just happen.

The other servants make sure to be on your good side so that you could intercede with him on their behalf.

You can't scare him with your true crime stories, but you sure as hell can scare the others. And you can bet your ass Seb's gonna help! The plan is: You tell the story and then he's gonna pop up out of nowhere behind them, giving them mini heart attacks.

If you try to scare him though, you'll need to be on guard 24/7 until he gets you in return. And even if your on guard all the time, he finds a way to scare the life out of you.

Your humor is practically the same, I mean, Sebastian is great at off handed remarks/roasts and sarcastic comments that you have to look for to really see them. You two could be talking shit about anyone and everybody would be like "Oh yeah, normal conversation, yes"

Sebastian would love to dance with you. And trust me when I say this, he is good at any type of dance. If you two are ever at a ball, prepare your feet, because he's not gonna let go of you the whole night (unless his master is in danger of course).

He would be your #1 supporter, he'd go with you out to take photos, and if you asked him to look at some, he'd take a good long look at each and every one of them and describe in detail how he feels about them. Also would go to any art shows you'd host if it came to it.

When it comes to sympathy and empathy, Sebastian also has a hard time showing these feelings. He's been alive for far longer than any human on Earth and he's a demon. He's never had any of the problems humans have, so naturally he doesn't kniw what it feels like to have them. Plus, before you came into his life, he didn't care much for them either.

However, he's gonna be there for you whenever you need him, emotionally or practically, even though he doesn't get your feelings.

You both have walls put up, you because of bad past experiences, him because as a demon, he has major issues with being vulnerable in any way. And I'm not talking just emotionally here, but demons are almost undestroyable, yet they have very few weaknesses that they just need to hide away.

It's rare Sebastian has a problem, but even if he had, you wouldn't know, because he thinks you, as a human, wouldn't understand and so he won't burden your mind with it. However, he's very perceptive and so if your behaviour changes, be it due to anxiety or a depressive episode, he'll know.

Now, he's not the type of person to try and break down your walls by force, but in situstions like these, where he's not sure how to help, you gotta talk to him and he won't leave you alone until you tell him how he can help.

He's not above carrying you around and doing everything for you until you're embarassed enough to tell him

He is very appreciative of your help around, since the other servants are good at everything but what they're supposed to do.

You with your tough love and Sebastian with his teeth rotting compliments and affection, it'd be honestly really funny to watch. He adores how you show affection, because it's different from most people he's known. But on the other hand, you can't expect him not to spoil you afte all the hard work you do every day?

He would really shower you in love and affection, because you deserve it and because it makes you flustered XD

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #black butler matchups #matchups #requests open #black butler x reader #black butler x y/n #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis x y/n

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weasleysprincess · 4 years ago

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New Flame chapter 2

A/N: I had writer’s block for a good week or so and worked last weekend. But finally I did it, 6k+ word fic! feels like 12k after editing and prof reading. Hope you enjoy and I’m already writing chapter 3!

Warnings: Cussing, drinking and implied smut(not Y/n and Bill, it’s coming thou), arguing, a tiny bit of fighting. Hopefully that covers everything, if not I’m sorry I didn’t catch it.

The first task was going to start on Saturday and just about everyone was pissed at Harry for putting his name in the goblet. It’s odd, Harry is just 14 and the twins are closer to 17 then Harry is. Something doesn't sit with me about his situation. It was getting closer to the end of the day, my prefect duty was tonight. Sorta worried I’ll run into Cedric tonight, but then again I’m not worried, Charlie wrote me and said Bill was coming too.

I looked at Hufflepuff’s robe and saw a pin “CEDRIC DIGGORY, THE TRUE HOGWARTS’ CHAMPION'' She grinned, showing the Slytherin girl. “That’s great, I love it,” I looked again. “POTTER STINKS” I rolled my eyes and walked along. “I don’t give a damn about your father, Malfoy!”, Harry yelled across the courtyard. “Harry”, I sighed. I walked out, getting a better look. Suddenly Malfoy was turned into a white ferret. “Oh my god”, I snickered along with the crowd. Cedric winked at me. Harry was sitting with Hermoine at dinner, “Harry”, I said sitting next to the boy. “What happened with Malfoy?”, I asked. Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna report you, besides Malfoy an annoying git”, I rubbed his back. “You answered it'', Harry said, with a huff. I stood up, “Hey, good luck Saturday. I’m pulling for you” Harry blushed, “Uhrm, thanks Y/n” George pulled me next to him, “Hi George'', I giggled. Ron had a Cedric pin, I rolled my eyes. “Molly, would be ashamed”, I thought. Professor McGongall gave me my instructions for tonight, it was 10 not long before I was off duty. I made the corner and was face to face with a certain Hufflepuff, “You’re joking”, I sighed. “Sorry”, Cedric backed up a little. I moved past him, but grabbed my hand. “Can we talk? Please just hear me out” I looked at his eyes, the ones who charmed me for years. “Fine, five minutes and I’m out of here”, I rolled my eyes. “I know last spring, I fucked up hard. You didn’t deserve any of that, I wish I had just talked to you instead. Y/n, you are a wonderful, amazing girl and I treated you like shit. I’m sorry, truly. The next person who gets you is one lucky person and again I’m sorry for how I treated you and did you in the end”, Cedric had tears in his eyes.

“Ced, thank you for realizing what you did and I appreciate the honesty. Just promise me, you’ll treat Cho better than you did me. I know you two are a thing, don’t lie. Oh and I guess good luck this weekend”, I said. Cedric smiled, “Thanks, she’s pretty cool. I’m thinking about asking her to the ball, you have a date?” “Uh no, haven’t really been thinking about the ball”, I played with my ring on my finger. Cedric nodded, “Night, Y/n” “Uh night Cedric”, I swallowed. I came back into the common room, there was a single lamp on. “Really? We don’t know how to turn a damn lamp off”, I walked over to turn it off when suddenly, a pair of big hands grabbed my waist, pulling me towards them. I was fixing to scream until their scent filled my nostrils, “Bill?”, I asked. “Hi Princess. Miss me?”, Bill kissed my cheek. “You have no idea”, I smiled, turning to hug him properly.

I woke up in Bill’s arms around my waist, “Mhm, I gotta get up”, I mumbled. “Stay a bit longer”, Bill whined in the pillow. I smiled at him. His long ginger hair was sprawled across my pillows, freckled toned chest rose with each breath, the warm heat off his body. “I gotta, Billy. If it makes you feel any better, I have a half day today”, I grinned. Bill had one eye open and a curious look on his face, “Maybe so. What time?” “I’m free after lunch”, I finally got loose from his grip. “Meet me at Hagrid’s hut, don’t wear your uniform. I’m helping Charlie, this afternoon”, Bill laid on his elbows, propped up some. “Y/n, wake your lazy ass up!”, Fred yelled from the other side. “I’m zipping up my skirt, chill”, I said back. I walked to my nightstand to grab my wand, Bill grabbed my waist. “Are you mad? Let me go”, I pushed his chest. Bill smirked, “Just wanted a few kisses, love” I kissed him, but knew Fred was standing out there. “I gotta go now,” Bill pouted. I opened the door, “Finally”, Fred sighed. The curtain facing the door was pulled, no way he could his brother in my bed. “Morning Georgie”, I smiled. “Morning, what’s got you in such a good mood?”, George asked. “Nothing particular, Weasley”, I said, grabbing a piece of toast. “I’m gonna find out why, you’re usually hateful in the mornings”, George said. “Oh, you’ll be surprised for sure”, I giggled. “Who is it?”, Lee asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Mind your own, Jordan”, I giggled. “Freddie, hold me I’m scared”, George hid in Fred’s shoulder. “Would you knock it off, git”, Fred pushed his younger twin away. I was coming from Flitwick’s class, when someone pulled aside. “What is it now, George? Oh Adrian, hi”, I smiled. “Hi love, how are you doing?”, Adrian asked. “Pretty good and you?”, I asked, smiling. “Do you have a date to the ball? I know it’s early but it never hurt to be early”, Adrian grinned, laying his hand beside my head by the wall. “No, I don’t actually”, I replied. “Well, how would you like to be my date to the ball?”, Adrian smiled. Couldn’t deny he wasn’t handsome, because I would be lying or blind. It isn’t like I can bring Bill, surly he won’t mind. “A slytherin asking a gryffindor to a ball, isn’t gonna cause a scandal, Pucey?”, I smirked. “I think I'll be forgiven because of your beauty, love. So what do you say?”, Adrian ran his hand through my hair. “My dress is silver, your dress robes should be able to match”, I smiled. “Perfect, darling. See ya around”, Adrian smiled, running his thumb over my cheek. “Bye”, I smiled. I walked towards the great hall, but decided to go meet Bill and Charlie. “What do you wear to see dragons?”, I asked, throwing my sweater off. “No, Y/n! What are you thinking?”, I threw off the yellow sweater. Finally I decided on, pair of light washed jeans, black sweater and maroon combat boots. “Uh jewelry” a silver ring and my first initial necklace and my ring that always stays on my other hand. I had to sneak out with a professor or one of the Weasley kids finding me. “Bill, who are you waiting for? Fred and George are still in class like the rest of them”, I heard Charlie sigh. “Go see what Hagrid wanted with you”, Bill said. Charlie stalked off, mumbling something about Bill. Bill was watching Charlie, “Hi Handsome”, I smiled. “Well hi there, baby. How’s classes?”, Bill kissed me. “Alright, thanks for making my bed back”, I smiled. “You’re welcome, baby. Just habit”, Bill smiled. “Hello Y/n'', Hagrid stood behind Bill with Charlie, whose mouth was hanging open. “Hi Hagrid, nice seeing you Charles'', I looked behind Hagrid. Charlie rushed over, “When? How? Why? She's still in school” Bill and I rolled our eyes, “The summer” Bill said. “It just happened and nobody broke it off before school started”, I finished for Bill. “Does anyone else now? What about the twins?”, Charlie asked. “I’m planning on it”, I said, holding Bill’s hand. Charlie looked at us and our hands, “Bill, you’re my brother and I love you. But if you break her heart or hurt her feelings, I’m kicking your ass” I smiled, letting go of Bill’s hand. “I knew you would approve”, I giggled as I hugged his torso. “Charlie!”, Someone yelled for the tall ginger. “Do you want people knowing?”, Bill asked. “Yes, I do but not until you’re ready”, I replied back. “I’m staying until the new year, maybe before christmas?”, Bill asked. “Up to you, love”, I smiled, grabbing his forearm as we walked. “Have you ever seen a dragon?”, Bill asked. “No, you?”,I asked. “Unfortunately, they sent me to Greece for a job. Guy that was also there, we went into a cave, accidentally ran into one. Don’t think I’ve ever ran so fast in life or needed Charlie so bad either?”, Bill grinned. “I won’t be surprised if Charlie has pictures of the dragons he has raised in his wallet”, I giggled. It was a couple hours, until the other Weasley children came to find their older brothers. “Y/n, what are you doing here?”, Ron asked. “I invited her like I did you guys”, Charlie answered his little brother. Fred looked like he was trying to piece everything together. “Can we see a dragon now? You promised”, Ginny asked, looking up at Charlie. “I promised you, Gin. Boys don’t play around, you’ll scare them”, Charlie said. Ron and the twins nodded, “Okay come on”, Charlie said, picking Ginny up as he took his siblings. I followed behind but Bill caught my wrist, “what is it?”, I asked. Bill leaned down and kissed me, “I needed another kiss” “Act like we didn’t make out earlier”, I sassed him. Bill grinned, “Don’t act you don’t like it” “Whatever, loverboy”, I grinned, walking behind Fred. Fred looked down at me, furrowing his brows, but he looked back at Charlie. Charlie had Ginny on his shoulders, letting her pet the Green Welsh’s neck.

Bill pulled me aside as the kids started leaving with Charlie, “I haven’t taken you on a proper date, I was thinking dinner” I smiled, “Sure, why not?” Bill grinned as Fred and I locked eyes for a moment. I changed into a skirt and switched my boots to black heeled boots. The twins and Ginny were walking to the portrait hole when Ginny gasped. “Y/n, why are you all dressed up for? It’s dinner in the Great Hall”, Ginny looked me up and down. “For you guys it is, me. I have a date with someone”, I smiled back as I threw my black peacoat on. “Who?”, George asked. “You don’t know them, they’re already out of school”, I said naturally. “Okay, come back in a decent time and don’t be drunk. Tomorrow's the first task and we need your help”, George said. “I promise, Fabian. Go eat before Ron takes everything”, I said, kissing George’s cheek. I snuck down to Hogsmeade where Bill said he would be waiting. POV change- The twins followed Y/n bc they’re nosey. “Hogsmeade? Bill is at Honeydukes”, George said watching Y/n walk towards Honeydukes. “It can’t be Bill, they barely know each other”, Fred scoffed. “They did disappear a lot back home, I did hear him walk her back to Ginny’s room one night”, George said. “Bill’s six years older than her”, Fred ran a hand through his ginger locks. “Let’s go”, George said walking towards Hogsmeade. Fred tucked the map in his coat pocket and followed his twin. 3rd pov- Bill was smiling at the girl, who told him about the niffler she had as a little girl. Y/n’s back was at the entrance, anyone who walked in couldn’t recognise until they got closer. “Fred! He’s on a date with some brunette”, George yelled, making his twin stop. Fred pulled out the map to see who was with his oldest brother. “Well who is it, Freddie?”, George asked, peering into the window. “Y/n Brooks, I knew it! They were too cuddly this afternoon, she lied”, Fred furrowed his brows in anger. “Let’s get out of here, George” “George! George! Georgie, come on”, Fred grabbed his twin’s hand. “Why are you mad?”, George asked. “She lied to us, Geo! Hell, I thought it was with Cedric at first, but Bill”, Fred growled. “What’s so bad about our brother? It’s just dinner”, George asked. “He’s twenty-four, she’s a child”, Fred yelled as Bill and Y/n walked out of the three broomsticks. George smacked a hand on Fred’s mouth and pushed them into an alley. “Thanks for the dinner, Bill”, Y/n said. “You’re welcome, princess. Did you get enough to eat?”, Bill asked the girl. “More than enough”, She giggled. The twins watched as their brother and best friend walked by, Y/n was holding Bill’s arm, looking up at him like he hung the moon just for her. The couple turned down a different way as the twins walked out of the alley. “Fred, George! You know you’re not supposed to be down here at this hour!”, a shopkeeper yelled.

The twins were hiding in the common room as they heard Y/n and Bill talking. “Come on, I’ll sneak up on you again, Billy”, Y/n whined. “I can’t, Charlie got suspicious and asked. I’m sorry, love”, Bill said, brushing the girl’s hair back. Y/n knew she was risking Professor McGongall bursting and finding the pair wrapped up together. “Alright not tonight. I had a really good time, Billy. Thank you again”, Y/n smiled. “I’m glad you had a good time now, go get some sleep, princess”, Bill kissed her cheek. “Okay, goodnight, Weasley”, Y/n caught his lips with hers. The portrait hole closed behind Y/n as she snuck towards the girls’ dorms. Fred scooped her up into his arms, throwing her on the couch as George sat on her legs. “Fred, George! What is the matter with you?”, Y/n yelped. “How was your date? With our brother”, Fred asked. “Great actually, How do you know it was with your brother?”, Y/n tried to sit up but Fred’s weight was on her stomach. “The map and we saw you at Three broomsticks”, Fred said. “No input from you, George?”, Y/n asked. “No, just want answers”, George grinned. “Fine, Godric I hate you guys! Bill asked me to dinner tonight, happy now? Let me go”, Y/n broke down. Fred and George looked at each other for a minute. “If you don’t let go now, I’ll scream my head off”, Y/n said. “Are you sure, Princess? Just dinner with Billy”, Fred smirked. “Hermione!!”, Y/n screamed, making Fred smack a hand over her mouth. Y/n bit Fred’s finger, “Oww, you bitch. Okay okay go to bed”, Fred snapped his finger out of Y/n’s mouth. The twins got off of her, “Thank you boys, nice working with you”, Y/n smirked as she walked upstairs. Pov change- Y/n’s

My date with Bill was perfect last night besides the twins and their nosey selves. Sure, this was our first official date and we’ve only made out a few times. I feel something with Bill unlike another partner. “Y/n, you ready?”, Hermoine asked through my door. “No just woke up, come in though”, I replied back. The young curly headed girl walked in, “Morning” “Morning Moine. Sleep good?”, I asked, climbing out of bed. Hermione only nodded her head. “Ginny said you had a date last night” “She was right, I did”, I said slipping a green sweater on. “With whom I may ask?”Moine smiled, cheeky like. “You can’t tell anyone, especially any Weasley child, okay? Promise?” I sighed. “I promise to stay quiet”, Hermoine held her pinky up. I linked my pinky with hers, “Oh Merlin, Bill took me to dinner last night. We’ve been messing around for a couple months” Hermoine looked at me as the gears turned in her head. “That means you’ve been doing him since the death eater attack in the summer. You lied to me that morning when I asked where you were ``''Moine, look I didn’t know what it meant with him. I would have looked like an idiot, if I told you we were together that morning. I don’t know what we are now, sure he took me to dinner and we’ve made out a few times. Charlie knows that we’re something oh the twins caught me sneaking back in last night. I’m sorry for not letting you know but-“ “It’s okay, I understand. Since I’m here can you give me advice?”, Moine held my hand. “Of course what’s up?”, I asked. Hermoine was smiling and blushing, “Um I like Victor Krum and I don’t know how to talk to him. You’re older and have had boyfriends before” I smiled, “The Bulgarian player? The one Ron has a boy crush on? Well, just say hello, I’m Hermione Granger. Wanna go study or something, you don’t even have to start anything just say hi. It worked with Cedric”, I said to the younger witch, on my bed. Hermoine nodded, “Thank you, Y/n. I’ll keep you updated, cole we’re not gonna have good seats” I couldn’t sneak away for Bill like I wanted to. Standing next to the twins and Ginny, the crowd cheered as Krum entered. I looked over to my left and saw a certain redhead, I smiled. He grinned back and waved, making me blush. Krum had got his egg after a transfiguration spell. “Let’s go Cedric!!”, a Hufflepuff student yelled beside Lee Jordan.

Cedric and Fleur had got their egg and it was time for Harry to come out. My nerves were high, I was pulling for Harry and didn’t want him hurt. He was Sirius’ other god child besides me, Sirius wanted me to update him on Harry since he was still hiding. “Come on Harry, make Sirius proud”, I whispered. The dragon tried to burn Harry as Harry flew around the stands. “Come on, Potter don’t fuck up now!”, Fred groaned. Suddenly, I could smell George’s cologne and the warm smell of cinnamon like Bill. I was hiding in George’s chest as the dragon flew up, tearing some stands as it flew after Harry. “Well done, Dragon!!”, I heard one of the twins cheered. “Y/n, you okay? Dragon is gone nowGeorge asked, lifting my head out of his chest. “Yeah, Yeahh I’m good. Sorry George”, I stepped aside from him a bit. “It’s okay, love” George smiled, before talking to Fred. Harry finally got his egg and everyone was heading to the common room. “Hey Brooks!” Draco yelled. “What is it, Malfoy?”, I rolled my eyes. “Did Adrian tell you?”, Malfoy sneered. “No, tell me what?”, I walked closer to the boy. Draco pulled me into his chest, “He asked you out to the ball as a joke, well Cassius betted he wouldn’t ask a gryffindor to the ball” “Adrian asked me two days ago and hasn’t spoken to me since. Stop being a brat Malfoy and mind your own!”, I rolled my eyes. His hands dropped to my ass, “Get your slimy snotty hands off of my ass or you won’t have them anymore!”, I grabbed Draco’s hand, bending his backwards. “Owww let go!!”, Draco whined. “Why? Don’t like being touched somewhere you don’t want to be? Huh?”, I yelled. “I’m sorry just let go, I still need my hands”, Draco cried. “Get the hell of my sight, Malfoy and don’t go whining to daddy about this!”, I pushed Draco to the ground, kicking dirt near his face. I got to the courtyard and saw Adrian with Theo. “Pucey!”, I yelled. “Oh hi Y/n”, Adrian smiled. “Wipe that smile off of your face before I do it myself! Am I a joke to you or hell even a bet? Malfoy told me that Cassius made you ask me to the ball as best, I’m guessing you would have been a pussy to ask a gryffindor if you didn’t!” “Brooks, Draco is being well Draco”, Theo said. “I’m not talking to you, Nott!”, I spat. “So did you or did you not ask me out as a bet? I’m only asking once before I whoop your ass”, I stood tall and got in his face. “Cassius did make a bet with me but I’ve liked you since my 2nd year. After you helped me after a quidditch game when an older gryffindor pushed me. We had won that year”, Adrian admitted. “So you genuinely asked me because you like me or something? I don’t appreciate being a stupid bet”, I asked. “I want to go because I think you’re pretty, smart and you seem like you know how to have a good time”, Adrian said. “I’m sorry for being a bitch and amusing what Malfoy said was true. Do you still want to be my date?”, I asked, feeling like a complete jackass. “Yeah, I do. I’m sorry for being distant and everything”, Adrian smiled. “It’s okay, I’ve been busy”, I said. “You said your dress was black right?”, Adrian asked. Theo had left by now and it was just us. I laughed, shaking my head, “No Silly, my dress is silver. I told you that last week, pucey” “Okay silver! A black dress robe okay? I can have dad send me a different color”, Adrian asked. “No black is fine, Adrian. Hey, the common room is probably chaos right now and I need to get back. See ya around okay?”, I said. “See ya later, gorgeous”, Adrian kissed my cheek.

Little to Y/n’s knowledge Bill and Charlie saw the whole thing between the young students. “Bill, it isn’t like she could have brought you”, Charlie said. “I know and we’ve not put labels on it either”, Bill sighed. “You better go say your goodbyes, Mum is expecting us”, Charlie said.

I walked into my dorm, Bill was standing at the window looking out. The tournament was finished and an English rainstorm started. I wrapped my arms around his torso and laid my head on his back, “Missed you” Bill tensed up but relaxed again, “I’m gonna miss you” I frowned, “I’ll miss you too, Weasley” After some convincing and bringing out my puppy dog eyes, I got Bill to cuddle with me in bed. The rain smacked the window at a peaceful pace, Bill’s heartbeat and body heat was perfect. “Y/n! Y/nn, wake up!!”, I gasped for air, “Uh what is it? Oh Gin, it’s you!” “Yeah, it’s dinner time. You okay?”, Ginny asked. “Oh yeah, just a deep sleep and the rain you know”, I sighed, the side where Bill laid propped up was cold. I followed the younger redhead to the Great Hall. “Hey sleepyhead”, Fred smirked. “Y/n”, George said where I was with Ginny. “Yeah?” “Charlie wanted me to give you a birthday present from last year. Said he found it a year after he left here. You know Charlie is too busy to come home”, George handed me a medium sized box that was wrapped in purple paper with a silver bow on top. “Thanks Georgie, I’ll write him a thank you later.” Dinner was over and thankfully I didn’t have perfect duty tonight. “Y/n?”, someone spoke behind me. “Who’s asking now?”, I sighed, I met the eyes of Draco Malfoy. “What could you possibly need to say now? Thank you for lying about Adrian”, I rolled my eyes. Draco looked down at his shoes, “I’m not lying, Brooks! He’s really pulling your leg, you're being lied to. Cassius and Adrian were laughing about it in the hall tonight.”, Draco said softly. The first time, he had spoken to me or any other Gryffindor with kindness.

I looked at Draco for a second, he had an emphatic look and biting his lip. “I’m not being mean to you either” Adrian and Cassius came out of the hall laughing, “She actually thinks me Slytherin wants to take her to the ball. My parents would hang me by my toes if I took a Gryffindor to a dance”, Adrian snared. Cassius’ eyes were wide as he stopped beside Draco, “Cass, what are you doing? Y/n, hey! How much did you hear of that?”, Adrian’s face dropped and he gulped. “You lied to me twice and you actually had me convinced you put the house rivalry away. I thought Draco was being his rude arrogant self when he told last week. I’m sorry Draco for not believing you both times, Cassius you can jump off the astronomy tower for all I care!” I yelled. People were standing around, gasping, pointing. “I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe a Slytherin actually liked me for me”, I shook my head, gripping my nails in my hand. “Y/n, I’m sorry honestly”, Adrian tried to stand closer. I saw red as the boy got closer, I felt my fist on his nose. “Fuck you! You’re nothing but a stupid prick”, I screamed. “Alright alright! Show is over!” Fred yelled. Cassius pulled Adrian away as the crowd started to leave. “Y/n, it’s okay”, George said. “No, it’s not! I’m gonna be the biggest laughing stock in all of Hogwarts history. Just leave me alone, the both of you!”, I pushed between the twins as I ran up the tower stairs. The common room was busy, a party was going to start for Harry and today’s match. I slammed my door open and locked it before jumping on my bed.

I cried in the sheets, my hand ran over some soft material. Pulling it out from my pillow, the one Bill laid today. “Oh Billy, you sweet sweet boy! I really need you right now”, I cried, holding his black hoodie. Bill’s scent flooded my senses instantly, sorta calming me down. “Just want this year over with, so I can run away with you Bill Weasley!”, I laid the hoodie on the pillow, before laying on it. The sun was coming up, shining through the window. My head was pounding, not for the reasons the older Gryffindors’ heads are. Bill’s hoodie laid out on the sheets, I traced tiny shapes on the material. “I love you”, I whispered, part of me hoped William had heard it at the Burrow. “Y/n! You up?”, George knocked. “Yeah, just a minute”, I shot up, throwing Bill’s hoodie in my trunk. “Come in”, I shut the trunk. “How are you feeling? Your hand okay?”, George asked, gently shutting my door. “Heads pounding, crying all night feels like. Kinda sorta but nothing I can’t handle”, I smiled. “I’m sorry Adrian’s a prick. You are more than some stupid bet a Slytherin made. Nobody should be a bet, you’re too gorgeous to be'', George said. “Yeah sure, I was embarrassed in front of the student body and people from two other schools. Don’t forget that, Godric that’s icing on the cake!”, I scoffed. “I bet everyone has forgotten about it! Breakfast?”, George smiled. “I’m not showing my face not today, Georgie”, I rolled my eyes. The thought of trying to eat while everyone stared and gossiped about my misfortune wasn’t ever appetizing. George frowned, “Okay so not the day. What do you want? I’ll sneak you some food” I smiled at the tall red head. “Is there something on my face?”, George rubbed his stubble. “No, just thinking is all, Georgie”, I said. “I’ll bring your favorites, now go take a shower okay?”, George smiled. “Okay Georgie'', I grinned. “Love you, Brooks” “Love you too, you big lug”, I smiled as the younger boy walked out.

Four days until the ball, everyone had let go of the fact Adrian asked me out on a bet. Cedric even put his two cents to Adrian and asked if I was okay. At this point, thinking about skipping the ball and heading home early. Great Aunt Sophie, sent the finished dress. It was beautiful but why go to the biggest dance without a date. Nobody dared to ask me to go with them, probably thought it was poor taste or didn’t want to die on the spot. Fred had asked Angelina, Hermoine got asked by Krum, Adrian and Pansy were flirting so they were probably going together. I was in the library with George helping him study for potions. “Y/n, can I ask you something?”, George looked at me across the table. “Sure Geo”, I decided to revert my eyes from the textbook. “I know you’re thinking about skipping the ball, don’t lie. You’re in your last year and the Yule ball isn’t an annual thing. I was thinking if you want I could take you. Y/n, would you want to be my date?”, George asked, while holding my hand. What would Bill think if his younger brother took me? Is it wrong? George is my best friend, who said it wasn’t more than friends? “You don’t have a date? That’s hard to believe, Weasley'', I laughed it off. “Y/n, I’m serious. We don’t even have to miss at the end of the night. I don’t want you to miss the chance of something fun and magical”, George said in a serious tone. “Oh wow, you’re not joking. Ah what the hell why not? Sure I’ll go with you George Weasley'', I smiled. George had moved to the seat next to me, “Of course, I’m not joking” “This better not be a pity date, Fabian! One Weasley asking out of pitty is enough'', I said. “He’s a git!”, George brushed a piece of hair out of my face. “Definitely git worthy”

I snapped the last clip in my hair, now I was done. The dress fit me to a tee, the jewelry mom had sent was perfect! Hopefully George would like it. Walking down the stairs to the ball, a couple Ravenclaw boys stopped to look. Cedric looked for a moment, “Wow” Angelina tapped George’s shoulder, Fred looked with his twin. “Is that Y/n?” George held out his hand as I got to the bottom, “You look absolutely gorgeous, Y/n!” “Thanks George! You look handsome, see that you and Fred do know to clean up”, I grinned, while holding his hand. “Come on, McGonagall is making us lineup for the champions' ', George pulled me with him. “How are you and my dear brother doing?”, George asked. I bit my lip, “Fine” George’s eyebrows furrowed, “Just fine? I’ll kick his ass for you” I giggled, “We’re good, I’m assuming. We haven’t talked about what we are, you know?” George nodded, “You can always marry me or Charlie if you really want to be a Weasley”, George smirked. “If you don’t step on my feet like you did in practice, I might consider you as my husband”, I smirked back at the younger redhead. “You were going too fast and who said you could lead?”, George playfully hit my arm. “I was tired and wanted to go to bed”, I giggled. “Are you still complaining about Brooks trying to lead?”, Fred groaned with Angelina by his side. “I’m giving him another chance to see if I’ll consider marrying him later in life”, I replied back. “Did you and Billy break up?”, Fred furrowed his brows. Angelina turned her head in curiosity. “No! How can you break up if you don’t have labels on it, Frederick?”, I scoffed. The doors to the Great Hall opened and the champions and their dates entered. I smiled at Hermione as she passed us with Victor. The weird sisters were in between sets, I excused myself for a drink.

“Hey”, Cedric said beside me. “Hey”, I slightly smiled and got my cup. “You look beautiful, Y/n”, Cedric said with his famous smile. The one that used to get weak in the knees and sick to my stomach. “Thanks Cedric, you don’t look too bad yourself”, I replied back. Cedric smiled, “Who’s your date?” “Uh George, just friends though”, I looked away for a second. “I’m sorry about the Adrian situation”, Cedric grabbed my hand. I looked at our linked hands, “Uh yeah”, I sighed. “There you are Cedric! Oh hi Y/n”, Cho grabbed Cedric’s arm. “Hi Cho, bye Cedric”, I passed Cho. I noticed Harry and Ron sitting at a table, “Why are we sulking at a Ball that doesn’t happen yearly?”, I stood in front of them. Ron looked at me with a sad smile and his eyes fell to Hermione and Victor. “Bands usually start with a fast song, so come on join the crowd for a couple songs”, I stuck my hand out for one of them to take. They both looked at my hand like it was rotting off the bone. Harry stood up and took my hand, “Come on, Ron. She has a point” The drummer counted in as Harry and I joined the crowd, “There you are”, George smiled, pulling me closer to him as the singer aparted on the stage. A couple songs later and a crowd interaction, a slow song started. “Are you sure?”, George asked as couples started spacing out. “Yes Georgie, come on”, I wrapped my arms around his neck. People were slowly starting to leave but there were couples still dancing. I laid my head on George’s chest as he held my back. “Not to disturb your nap, but wanna get out of here?”, George whispered. My heels were digging my toes and my feet started to cramp, “If you do, sure”, I snuggled my head into his chest. George held my hand as we exited the hall to see Hermione and Ron arguing. “Next time don’t ask me as a last resort!”, Hermione yelled with tears streaming down her cheeks. George and I looked at each other, “He doesn't know girls at all”, George sighed. “He’s fourteen, George. You and Fred weren’t into girls that much yet either”, I said as we walked up the stairs to Gryffindor tower. “He’s a git either way”, George held the portrait open for me. “Most fourteen year old boys are”, I giggled. Fred and Angelina were on the couch making out with a bottle of firewhiskey on the floor. “I’ll walk you”, George said. “You think Fred and Angelina might become anything?”, I asked as we stood outside my dorm. “Maybe, if Freddie plays his cards right and doesn't embarrass himself tonight”, George smirked. “And if you leave the alone. Thank you for tonight, you were right too”, I smiled. “Me? Right about what?”, George asked. “That I shouldn’t have been stuck up here while everyone had a good time at the ball”, I said. George nodded, “So are my chances of becoming Ms. Brooks still stands pretty good, huh?” I giggled, “Better than Fred. Now go get some sleep okay?” “Okay, I will. Night Y/n”, He lent down and kissed my cheek. “Night Weasley”, I said, letting his hand go.

I changed out of my dress and headed to Hermione’s room, “Mione? You still up?”, I asked outside her door. I heard shuffling of feet, “Boys are stupid”, Hermoine opened her door in her pj’s and ruffled hair. “Yeah they are at this age. Can I come in?”, I asked. Moine jumped on her bed and started crying again, “Oh love, it’s okay”, I pulled her on my chest and petted her hair. Hermione cried even more, “Is this just over Ron?”, I asked. “What kind of person asks someone as a last resort? I expected him to ask me but as a last option, I’m his best friend”, Hermione jumped out of bed and started pacing. “Some people don’t realise what’s in front of them no matter how hard you show it to them. Ron’s fourteen and it’s an awkward phase for boys. Girls mature way faster than boys, that’s why we’re smarter and more rational”, I said. Hermione sighed, “When do they finally notice?” I sighed, “Not sure. I thought Bill would see it but he hasn’t and he’s twenty-four for Merlin’s sake” Hermoine shuffled her feet, “Can you unzip me?” “Come here” “Why hasn’t Bill asked you to be his girlfriend officially?”, Moine asked. “Hell if I know, we made out all summer and he took me to dinner. Which I amused was a date, you know? We walked around Hogsmeade and the night before he snuck into my dorm. He left last Saturday without saying bye or he would owl me. Maybe it was just fling”, I fell back on Hermoine’s bed. “He snuck into your dorm? How, I thought the stairs were charmed to turn into a slide?”, Hermoine asked as she changed into her lounge shorts. “Oh Hermoine, my sweet Moine! That’s been uncharmed for years now, it knows the reason for a boy to be up here. George walked me tonight and he didn’t bust his face”, I grinned. “Are all the houses’ stairs like that?”, She asked. “Uh, just know about ours and Hufflepuff’s from personal experience. Your guess is good as mine”, I said back. Hermione crawled into her bed, “Want me to leave?”, I asked. “No stay and cuddle?”, Hermione mumbled. “Course”, I pulled her to my chest as she got under the blanket. Ginny tried to sneak in, I looked at Moine and grinned. “Do you know what time it is, Ginevera Weasley?” Ginny squeaked, “I’m sorry please don’t report me or tell Fred and George” “Gin, I’m not like Percy as a prefect. Get some sleep, okay?”, I said calmly to her. “I hate you” “Loves you too, Gin Gin”, I snorted in Hermoine’s hair as she giggled too. “Night girls”

Sun was shining through the windows, Hermoine and Ginny were still sleeping pretty good. I decided to sneak out and get some food. After, throwing some light washed jeans and George’s old quidditch sweater on, I headed downstairs. Fred was sitting on the couch in some flannel pajama pants, “Morning Freddie. Have a good time last night?”, I asked. “Y/nn not so loud”, Fred winced and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, I’ll bring some food up for you. Go to bed”, I said as Lee walked in with a tray of food. “Here, a greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ashtray. Just what the man ordered”, Lee grinned. “Stop being so damn loud, Jordan”, Fred groaned as I walked out. I reached the Great Hall and Draco appeared in front of me, “Good morning, Brooks. Have a good time last night?”, Draco smiled. “Are you still drunk, Malfoy?”, I had a confused look on my face. “No, just being friendly is all”, Draco replied. “Oh well then, yes I did have a good time. Did you?”, I walked past him. “I did, my date was actually nice” “Who did you take? Parkinson?”, I asked him. “Oh a Beauxton girl, Georgia” I nodded, “Nice talking to you, Draco. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to eat” “Why was Draco talking to you?”, Angelina asked. “No clue, he’s been doing that more lately. What time did you go to bed?”, I asked. She looked down and smirked. “Not exactly, my bed but about two am” “Room of requirements?”, I smirked. She blushed, “I’m not that kind of girl, but Fred and I spent the night there” “Explains the hickeys on his collarbone and shoulders. Pass me the waffles please?”, I grinned. “Y/n”, Katie asked. “Yeah Katie?”, I asked as an owl went by. “Letter for you”, she handed me the envelope.

Bill Weasley- the Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England

The prettiest girl, I ever met in life (a small heart was drawn)

I excused myself and sat on a step, “You better explain yourself, Weasley”

Dear Y/n,

I’m sorry for leaving without telling you goodbye, Charlie was admitted about being on time to return back home. I know I’ve been awkward about what is going on between us. You’re probably rolling your eyes and saying something smart about me. Yes, I’ve never had feelings for anyone like I do for you. You’re an amazing girl, also gorgeous as can be! Your parents did good with you, why lie? So will you be my girlfriend, Y/n?

P.s. Hi, it’s Charlie. Bill left this out in the open, but please say yes to being his girl. He won’t shut up about you to me and pretty positive Dad has heard all about you too. Poor lad’s ear probably hurts. My brother won’t stop talking about you, I get it you’re pretty but I need to sleep at 3am. Have a good holiday, kiddo and keep the twins in line.

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley series #george weasley #Harry Potter #bill x reader

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elicts · 4 years ago

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𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

full name: katherine ‘kaia’ calthorpe ii

major: international relations

occupation: humanitarian affairs officer, united nations

lineage: aquamarine

face claim: maika monroe

about kaia .

( death tw ) a darling girl of eight years and six months. dressed in a sleek black dress with pink ribbons tied haphazardly in her hair by someone whose hand looked inexperienced in doing so. that’s how she’s remembered on easily what is the worst day of her life. gripping tightly to her father’s hand as if easing her grip would make him disappear, too. maybe it’s the clamminess of her palm, but she could swear she felt him hold on a little tighter. lady katherine calthorpe the first, her mother, had been goodness incarnate. bigger than life itself, with stories of how kaia could not say her own name as a toddler and gave herself a new one instead. how, when katherine was younger, she had managed to woo kaia’s cellist father into going on a date with her in twelve presents - one for each of the days of christmas. stubborn, bold, and true to herself, her mother still refused to wed him. so, standing in the garden of their stately home, hand clasped tightly with her father’s, kaia came to inherit everything.

there’s bad in the world. time teaches her that even the sweetest of condolences can quickly fade into bitter arguments. one doesn’t have to raise their voice to do so, either. maliciousness can come in the form of a smile that never quite meets the eyes, delivered with a voice that never wavers. the 5000 acre estate that she’s called home, with its lush gardens and the apple orchard where she picked fruit with her mother on lazy summer afternoons, embroiled in a battle between great-aunts and uncles that she’d only met at the funeral. ‘did you know i was responsible for suggesting the building of the annex?’, says great-aunt once removed, allegra, as kaia watches blank-faced. ‘we were always good to katherine, araminta and i gave her board while she was at strathmore’, says great-uncle reginald upon his return from his sociological research of the lesser antilles (rumour is that he’s gone bankrupt in a poker game gone wrong). and the gifts! the gifts arrive in throes, sitting in the lobby in plush wrapping that feels a shame to pry apart with her pudgy fingertips. (even when her father requests her not to open them). all manner of things; a teddybear, a necklace, a pair of shoes that she can’t pronounce the designer of. all to take advantage of an eight year old girl’s naivety and her father’s inability to understand what was going on. yes, there’s bad in the world. but calthorpe girls are nothing but creative in finding solutions to their problems.

as she grows older, she learns to make the most of the good when she can find it. sometimes it requires patience, like a treasure hunt into the human psyche, drawn out from someone over time with a guiding hand that she’s all to willing to offer. sometimes it requires creating it herself, leaving her classmates notes under their pillows to remind them of all their positive traits when she’s away at boarding school as a teenager. voice like honey when she convinces the girls to buy in tea and crumpets for the groundskeeper on days off instead of going shopping in the local village because she’s noticed how lonely he looks. kaia knows just what it’s like to feel broken, so she finds herself working just as hard to ensure nobody else feels the same.

strathmore becomes a dream more so than a goal. a want to understand her mother better, to see the place where her mother would fall in love twice a day with her classmates, to see the books in the east library that she spent hours talking about in person. and when she fulfills her dream and it doesn’t quite match up... as she arrives in the pouring rain from a taxi without an umbrella and her suitcase gets saturated through, that seems alright. when she moves into her dorm and her roommate refuses to talk to her apart from calling her ‘that posh bird’ in passing, kaia gets a kick out of that, too. nothing but a little bump in the strathmore road. after all, a few bad days did not mean a bad life. her mother knew that best.

eliot and kaia .

she’d always suggested that she would only have to look at her successor once to know they were the right fit. she just didn’t expect him to be visiting her house when they first met. her father had hired an artist to paint them a family portrait, raving about the work he’d seen at some art show when he’d picked her up for summer break. in typical kaia fashion, she’d smiled and went along with it.

she’ll often say that warm honey-coloured eyes met warm blue and sure enough, she knew. that he was her baby aqua. eliot’s a little quieter than her. but that’s okay, she’s not one to judge. she’s an only child, she knows quietness better than anyone. it takes time to draw him out of his shell, too. so much so that she feels a little like she’s playing a game of cat and mouse when she tries to get him to talk to her after sitting for him. a little too like when she would wait up for santa claus as she leaves an offering of marshmallow cakes in the parlour to lay in wait before he takes one. but when he does, she’s elated. biting back her inner excitement as they have a mild conversation about her horses.

it doesn’t take long after his acceptance to join the society for them to become thick as thieves. as if she’d secretly been looking for a partner in mild-mannered do-gooding all her life and just so happened to stumble upon the perfect victim in him. she dared him to venture outside of his comfort zone by taking him on a surprise weekend getaway to the cotswalds because life’s best moment’s happen when we’re not expecting them to, eliot. there’s beauty in the improbable. he dared her to reflect more on her experiences, to see more of the good even when she thought it was impossible. they balance each other out somewhere along the line. and sometimes, she’ll still call with an excuse of needing a reminder of a certain artist whose name she already knows, just so they can talk.

kaia and her circlet .

she trades the pink ribbons in her hair to light blue during her time in the opals. her circlet are like her new and improved extended family. kaia was always the insistence to take her fellow opals out dancing to cheer them up, the offering of a light to the end of a cigarette when their nerves were too rattled to light their own, and a gentle hand to reach out and clasp at a wrist when she could sense they were feeling a little too heated. if nothing more than just to remind you that she’s there for you. no matter what, no strings attached. growing up around terrible people has instilled in her a need to calm others down. exemplified best by the gentle lull of a hymn spilling from her mouth at the manor dining table when an argument would break out, be it about serious societal matters or a general political debate. all because quiet voices should be used indoors, darling. if you must talk like children, i will sing you a lullaby. no scathing remark to be found on her lips before she would laugh once again, because although she has a terrible biological family, there is something to be said about the one she inherits at university. a warm fuzzy feeling associated when she hears any of their names, even now. she’s exactly 632 miles away from surrey now in geneva, stationed at the united nations in a want to spread good, and she still knows her heart would leap in her chest if one of them were to call her. that all it would take is the mention that one of them needs her help and she would be ready to make plans in an instant to help. it’s love for them. she knows it’s love.

#opalslineage #eliot said that's me mum #anyway i have a lot of feelings about miss kaia #and this could have been way longer but i had to cONTROL myself

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midnight-heroes · 5 years ago

Note

bro can i get a matchup if you’re still doing them please? (no teachers tho) i’m bi, 5’3, i have blue eyes and long eyelashes, my hair is brown and shoulder length with waves. kinda thick with a small waist. i have a nose ring ,i love makeup and i wear a full face to school most days. i come off as lazy but i’m actually a perfectionist that’s afraid of failure. i’m very affectionate but i love little gestures, they mean a lot to me. people always tell me i’m too nice for my own good. (1/2)

Nothing done wrong here, don't worry. This was a tough one though, to be honest. I sat here for a good while, thinking and pondering over who would be the perfect person to match you up with. Even now, I'm not too sure with the way I narrowed it down but, lets go with it anyway!

I'm matching you up with Ochako Uraraka.

Okay, so I guess we'll start on your appearance to get down to the basics. She sees you as absolutely stunning. You're absolutely beautiful and you really don't need the make up to look good. However, she wouldn't say the makeup takes away from your beauty. She'd say it makes your features stand out some more, but I also see her wishing that you would wear a little less makeup or at least a little less often.

Uraraka in no way comes off as lazy and if you were a little lazy at all, she'd pick up on that and get you going. She understands the need to get things right though, the need to not fail because she too is scared of failure. She also knows how to not beat herself up over this stuff however so together, you should be okay. She is also quite the affectionate person, I believe, and considering she isn't able to spoil you like she probably wants to, she'd use little gestures to show you she cares about you. Sometimes she feels bad that she can't give you everything but seeing how happy the small gestures make you, that assures her that it's okay. As an additional note here, you may be too nice for your own good, she is too sometimes, but if things went too far, she is going to stand up and say something to either you or the other person.

I heavily headcanon that Uraraka collects pins! So, you both collect stuff and show each other what you've found! She would seriously gush if you drew her portrait and I promise you she'll frame it.

You both share the polite and friendly personalities and chances are, you're both a bit spacey at times but she might be a little more focused and will bring you back down to earth. You're also a bit impulsive, though she does often need a plan but that leads to an interesting dynamic.

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foxyseok-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Codename

genre: smut

pairing: hoseok x reader

words: 6.2k

warnings: spanking, dom/sub undertones, choking

summary: “From the moment I stepped inside the fancy building I knew this job would be different. I was sent to steal a ring from an empty apartment and ended up with the owner himself demanding an explanation from me. Hoseok is far from being just another target and I had to learn it the hard way.”

From the moment I stepped inside the fancy building I knew this job would be different. As I climbed the stairs, getting tired after the third floor, I felt uneasy and like something just wasn't right. My black boots matched the whole black outfit I always wore to these kinds of jobs; it was sticking to my frame, not even one millimeter of fabric more than necessary. Someone could say I was an agent or a government spy, but I ain't such thing. My job's description way less heroic than that. Well, to be honest, there's nothing heroic on being a thief but that's where life got me so that's where I stand now.

Literally. I stand in front of the door with an opening kit – as my boss calls it – in my hands. I get on my knees to look better at the door handle, opening it after barely one minute. All these years of robbing made me good at it and, even though I shouldn't be, I'm proud of it.

The apartment is silent, as I predicted, the owner doesn't live in here since it's just another property with his name on it. Imagine having so much money you need to buy patrimony to hide it, now that's the life this guy lives, apparently. I don't know much about him but I look at the picture frames hanging on the light colored walls, a young man with a fluffy looking dog stares back at me.

Damn, he is really beautiful. It should be forbidden to look like this while having so much money.

I shake my head and try not to let anything get in my mind anymore. I need to focus on finding the ring my boss so desperately wants. The living room is big, just like the kitchen and, apparently, all the rooms. They all have furniture inside that indicates someone could live in here very comfortably.

But he doesn't, does he?

I stop breathing as I hear the sounds around me, there's nothing but the calming rain hitting the windows. My boss wouldn't just send me to a house with people inside, he's not that dumb, I guess.

I go to the master bedroom still without turning on a single lamp, can't afford to let anyone outside know I'm in here. I rummage through his absurdly big closet – there are so many coats and hoodies, shoes that costs hundreds of dollars, pieces of clothing that could probably buy me a car. I wonder if I should just put them all in this bag, a very expensive one I notice, and leave without the ring.

But no, my boss would kill me. He's been talking about it the whole week. This guy bought it from a person my boss was hunting down, now I need to rob it from him as we can't kill him, don't know why exactly.

Now that I think of it, I'm happy to know I won't put an end to such a beautiful existence like him. His eyes were glowing even in a picture, his soft features smiling at the lenses with a dog in his arms.

I finally open a drawer of all his jewelries and holy shit, he's got a lot of them. I take my phone out, finding the picture of the ring I need to get, and start looking for it.

After twenty minutes, I give up on the drawer and start searching the whole room. I'm getting desperate, I can't go back empty-handed. All the information we got is that the ring would be here, in this apartment, in his room, in his drawer.

Why isn't it then?

My trained ears pick up a sound it shouldn't be hearing; the front door is opening. I remember the short amount of time it took me to come from the door to the room and realize I have no time to hide outside of this master bedroom. I end up squeezing myself in the middle of two coats inside the closet.

It's not the first time something like this happens to me, to be honest. There's so much you can predict of someone's steps and, sometimes, I make mistakes. I don't let myself think too much about it now, I have to plan how to leave this place without letting him see me because if he does, I'll have to bruise up his pretty face.

I let the closet door slightly open so I can see what he's doing but it's completely yanked open by him. My heart finally starts to beat fast, even knowing I could just punch him and run I still get that adrenaline running inside my veins. But he doesn't see me. The way I'm completely squeezed between two of his dark coats blend my existence and his eyes never meet my frame.

My eyes, though, see him very well. His face is so much more than what that picture could portrait. He's so much hotter, a jawline that could cut, a pointy nose sculpted by the most talented artist, sharp eyes with that hint of a mysterious glow, heart shaped lips with a soft pale pink color to it. His black hair parted to the side to reveal a bit of forehead shines with the soft light of his room. He takes off his long reddish brown coat and I see the dainty body underneath it. It's all proportioned, long legs and small waist, his chest filling the white button up so prettily. He hangs the coat in the closet, still completely unaware of my shaking existence, and leaves without closing the door again.

I see him unbuttoning the wrists of his dress shirt and pulling it up his arms, my eyes are completely lost in the veins of his forearms when I notice the rings on his fingers. A total of three just in one hand and voilá! There is the precious little thing I need to rob.

In his fucking hands!

My whole escaping plan is instantly deleted from my mind as I see I can still save this whole operation. He can't sleep with rings on, who's the idiot that does that anyways? I pray that it isn't him. And as my brain starts to work on another way to get out after actually getting the ring, he starts to open the first two buttons of the dress shirt, revealing the soft golden skin of his chest.

- Any particular reason you're in my closet right now, little one? – his sharp eyes meet mine for the first time.

If my mind hadn't gone completely numb, I'd bathe myself in his honey like voice, deep, calm but firm, demanding.

But I was trained for this, my instincts are stronger than my hormones, I jump out of my hiding spot and try to get to the door before he can get me, trusting my legs to be as fast as they have always been.

Once again, there's so much I can predict. I didn't even think this guy would be faster than me. My legs are long enough so I can always get myself out of this type of situation but oh he's faster.

As my clothes are strategically sticking to my whole body, he grabs me by my ponytail, yanking me backwards until my back painfully hits the floor. When I look up, I see him smirking at me, I get hot all over wanting to punch the faint smile out of his stupidly handsome face.

Did I really say I didn't want to bruise him? Well, can't remember any of that right now.

I rise to my feet getting in position to smash my fist on his nose and bring him down. When I launch forward, he stops all my moves easily. During the ridiculously small amount of time I fail to punch him, my mind realizes that I'm fucked. He's much more than I actually seized up and thought he would to be. I obviously saw he's taller and a bit broader than me but I'm always stronger and faster than my opponents, my boss never gives me a target I can't handle.

But this fight wasn't supposed to be happening; he wasn't supposed to be here.

He grabs my arm twisting it to my back and shoves my chest onto the nearest wall, snatching my other free hand and locking it behind me. I could easily stop such movement – I swear I know how to defend myself properly – but he did it so fast and efficiently that my mind processed everything too late.

- I asked you a question, didn't I? – his breath is on my ear, I feel his whole body encaging me on the wall.

I don't say anything, that's how we're supposed to be when we encounter with our opponents: no talking so they won't have anything against us.

- You're the quiet type. I see. – he's containing the anger inside this velvety voice.

I feel the pressure of his hold loosen a bit and start to think he'll let me go, but he shoves me harder against the wall, the pain in my breasts making it almost impossible for me to breathe.

- But I think I can make you talk.

He pulls me back and starts walking towards his closet, I try to get free but his grip on me is strong enough to bruise even though he holds with only one hand now. I walk backwards hearing when he grabs something inside the closet. A soft sound of clicking and the cold feeling of metal around my wrists let me know he got them handcuffed.

I'm fucked.

- Here's how it's gonna be. – he says as he pushes my shoulders down and I forcibly kneel on the floor. – You'll tell me why you're in my apartment and if it's a reasonable explanation I'll set you free.

He locks the bedroom door putting the key inside the front pocket of his black slacks. God, why did I end up here? This guy came straight out of my wettest dream and probably wants to send me to jail, or kill me.

He crouches in front of me, I can feel the delicious sweet perfume he wears, masculine but soft. His sharp eyes gaze at me, curious and angry at the same time.

- W-what's your name? – the first words I say are choked out, maybe because I shouldn't be engaging a conversation with him.

He gets up, a lazy smile showing up on his features, and slowly disappears behind me.

- My name? – I feel the tug of my hair being pulled harshly, he takes off my scrunchy and lets my locks free as I look up to see his face staring down at me. – You broke into my house and you think you have the right to know my name?

I'm so stupid. I'm being manhandled by the guy I should be stealing from and my whole body seems to sing every time he touches me.

- But I'll give it to you so you'll have something to scream for later. – his hand softens its grip on my hair. – Hoseok.

I let my mind savour this new information, finally giving the handsome face a name just as pretty. And the more I think about it, more I feel like I've heard it before, maybe during conversations of my boss with some of our clients that I probably shouldn't be hearing but I let the curiosity get the best of me.

I hear the sound of a slap before feeling the pain across my right cheek.

- Focus on me. – I look up to see Hoseok staring back at me angrily. – Or is there anything else more interesting in here?

Did he just slap me on the face? How am I letting a man do this to me so easily?

I fight against the handcuffs, eyeing the door once again, thinking of a way to get the hell out of here, just to feel another slap, way more painful, across my left cheek. The cold feeling of his rings still lingers on my bruised skin.

- You're not leaving until I say so. – he tells me.

- Fuck off. – I mutter under my breath, different feelings running through my body; excitement, fear, arousal, anger.

- If you're gonna be disrespectful I prefer when you're with that dirty mouth shut.

- You slapped me and I'm the disrespectful one? – I yell back at him.

He's so calm, standing with one hand in his pocket, looking at me fiercely.

- I'm teaching you manners, little thief.

Oh. So either he knows I'm here to rob him or it's a shot in the dark. But, to be honest, if you see someone with an all black outfit inside your closet it's only suitable to call them thief. If he knows what I'm here for why didn't he call the police?

- You're late for that. – I reply looking straight into his dark eyes. – I'm too old to be taught anything.

- You're not that old, Shadowcat.

My eyes widen in shock. Hoseok knows my codename. Only my boss and the people I work with know about it. It was given to me as I entered this underground world. Since I always have black clothes on and move like a shadow behind my opponents, coming in and out without being seen, they say I'm a shadow that can move like a cat. The realization that I might be in a situation much worse than I previously thought is finally sinking into my bones.

- What? You think I don't know who you are or who you work for? – he crouches down in front of me again, keeping eye level with me. – You'd be dead if I didn't know you.

- Why did you ask then? Why are you keeping me in here like this?

- I didn't ask your name, now did I? I wanna know what you're here for. Certainly not to kill me, Yuyi wouldn't send someone so weak for that.

My boss's real name is something not even I can say out loud, he goes by the codename of Key and that's how we all call him.

- So I assume you're here to steal something. – he reaches forward and sticks his hand inside the only pocket in my pants, taking out the opening doors kit and my phone.

Hoseok looks at the kit, probably knowing what it is already, and lets it fall to the floor along with my phone in a silent thud. His hands travel around my waist, back on my ass where he found the kit, down to my thighs, squeezing and searching for hidden pockets. But my outfit leaves nothing to imagination, there's nothing that could be successfully hidden in it and, because of that, I can feel the heat coming from his palms making me hot.

- And you didn't find it. – he breathes out next to my face and, for the first time, I don't see only anger in his eyes.

There's lust mixed with hate in them.

- I'm not weak. – I respond to his earlier statement since it's the only thing my mind could hold on to when he's so close.

- Yeah? – he chuckled darkly. – Bet you wanna punch me right now but your weak little hands couldn't handle me.

- Asshole. – my heart starts beating fast but for a completely different reason.

Hoseok's hand closes around my throat, squeezing it enough for me to be uncomfortable but not enough for me to stop breathing.

- If you act like a bad girl you'll be treated like one. – he tightens his grip on me. – Why the fuck are you here, brat?

- Y-you know I'm a thief. – I say weakly with the short amount of oxygen entering my lungs.

- I'm not dumb, I wanna know what you need to steal. – his words make me frown a bit, Hoseok says as if I didn't have a choice but to rob him.

I stay quiet, my eyes focusing on the mole on his top lip, his long lashes flutter when he blinks his eyes. Fuck, he's the prettiest man I've seen.

- Aren't you ashamed of looking at me like this? – Hoseok says with a disgusted tone but his eyes give away that he's as affected as me, his pupils completely blown out.

- No. – I say licking my dry lips, knowing damn well I'm throwing away any precaution and plans I thought I had.

Since the very first moment I laid eyes on him, I should have known this operation was lost. He looks like and does all the things I didn't even know I liked.

Hoseok's hand leaves my throat and he closes his fist in my hair but this time around he doesn't pull it to growl at me, he brings my face close to his and smashes his lips on mine.

Finally. One of his hands remains tugging at the roots of my hair while the other rests on my waist. I feel his tongue licking the seam of my lips, asking for entrance. I don't comply and he bites my bottom lip harshly. I whine feeling the metallic taste of blood and open my eyes to see Hoseok smirking at me. He's still so close, our noses touching.

- Open up for me. – he whispers in my mouth, his hands coming to grab my chin.

- Make me.

I see a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes before he manhandles me out of the floor and throws me on his huge black bed. I can't even balance myself on my elbows because of the handcuffs but I see him grabbing my kit and phone from the floor and placing it on the top of a white desk before coming back to me. Hoseok's body towers above mine, his dark hair falling prettily around his face.

- Since you wanna make this harder I'll give it to you hard. – he says before nipping at my jawline.

His hot tongue meets the pulsating poing of my neck, sucking it deliciously and making the skin sensitive.

- You really broke into my house... – he growls on my neck. – ...wearing this tight little thing you call outfit.

His hands slide down my thighs, tugging at the fabric of my pants and opening my legs so he can slam his hips down on my core. I gasp out a strained moan and he takes the opportunity to finally glide his tongue on mine, exploring my mouth, licking my teeth and nipping my lips so expertly that my knees would buckle if I was standing.

My whole body is electrified and we're still fully clothed. I can feel the ends of his soft hair touching my face and I wanna run my fingers through it so badly, my arms restrained behind me are a hurtful reminder that I can't.

- Open the handcuffs. – I mumble inside his mouth. – I wanna touch you.

- Don't trust you yet, little thief. You'll have to earn that. – he rolls his hips on me before I can reply anything, my mind getting lost in the feeling of his bulge smashed against my core.

- Fuck. – I moan out loud, trying hard not to close my eyes so I can see every expression he makes.

- You have such a filthy mouth. – Hoseok bites my lip again, licking the bruise right after, making me squirm under him. – But I have a better use to it.

He gets off of me and I instantly make a complaining noise that is picked up by him.

- Shut up and get on the floor again. – Hoseok commands.

He doesn't help me out of the bed, instead he watches me struggle rolling on my side to get up with a defying smirk on his face.

- Can't you be a fucking gentleman for once? – I say as I stand in front of him, his taller figure looking a bit scary to me now.

- You're not deserving of that, you filthy thing. – he shoves me down again, making my knees hit the carpeted floor. – But I'll give you a chance to show me you can be a good girl. Understood?

- Yes. – I reply submissively, without even thinking twice, because I just can't ignore the constant throbbing between my legs.

- Yes what? – he caresses my hair giving me the chance to make up for the little mistake.

- Yes, sir.

- That's what I thought. – his long fingers open the zipper but he doesn't pull down his pants.

I see the black boxers underneath it before he grabs his dick and pulls it out. I'm not gonna lie, I don't find this part of the male anatomy to be very charming. But oh my God how I love this specific one. It has a soft golden color like his skin, it's pretty, long, thick and a vein going from the bottom to the tip catches my attention. I feel saliva pooling inside my mouth.

- Get to it, you have drool on your chin already. – his words may be degrading but his voice is not even a bit near that, the lust and need in it making him sound a bit weaker.

I stick my tongue out to lick his tip testing the waters, Hoseok makes a restrained noise instantly grabbing my hair and forcing me to take more of him. I try my best not to choke but he hits the back of my throat so easily, I clench my thighs to try and ease the growing need of relief.

Giving blowjobs is not usually an activity I enjoy but Hoseok makes it so good that I probably moan on his dick more than he does. His voice gets deeper, grunting when I swirl my tongue around his tip, he throws his head back closing his eyes exposing the delicious looking neck. I have saliva dripping down my chin like the Nicaragua Falls, since I can't use my hands, but I don't even care. All I do is watch his expressions; the furrowed brows, the hooded eyes looking at me, the plump lips caught in his teeth. I feel like I could come untouched just by watching Hoseok like this.

- Fuck. – he grunts pulling his dick covered in spit away from me. – Seems like you're a talented little thief after all.

- Please. – I beg without even knowing what for, I just feel my core screaming for attention, my panties sticking to it.

His hands, that were tugging painfully at my roots, now pet my hair softly while a lazy smile spreads on his face.

- Yeah, baby. You deserve a reward. – he pulls me up and holds my waist, carefully walking me backwards. – I'll give you what you need.

His words obviously have a double meaning behind but I pay no mind to it as I'm finally gonna get my end of this deal. The back of my legs hit the bed and I sit on it, watching Hoseok put his dick back in the black boxers, leaving the zipper open.

- What are you doing? – my voice is raspier with all the times his tip hit my throat way too deep.

- Didn't you want me to be a gentleman? – he looks down at me before placing one knee between my thighs, his body leaning close until my back hits the mattress. – I have to stretch you open first so I can fuck you properly later.

A strong shiver runs down my whole body when I hear his words being whispered in my ears, his sharp teeth nip on my earlobe before Hoseok looks at my face again. My pupils are blown out, hairs sprawled around the sheets, bruised lips parted so I can breathe better, completely lost in my own hormones. He seems satisfied with that, though.

- You look so hot like this, all needy and fucked out. – his fingertips gently slide between my breasts, going down to my bellybutton.

He tugs at my blouse and lifts it up revealing a simple black bra underneath it. His long fingers pull down the fabric covering my breasts, a knowing smirk showing up when he sees my hard nipples responding to him without even being touched.

Hoseok keeps his eyes locked with mine when he lowers his head and captures a nipple in his mouth. I throw my head back letting my ragged breath come out. The feeling of his hot tongue around my nipple is enough to make me wanna scream. When he's satisfied with the first one, he goes to the other one, giving the same unrelenting attention, sucking, licking and bitting.

- J-just fuck me already. – I whimper, my arms getting more and more uncomfortable just like the need between my legs.

He lets my nipple go with an obscene "pop" and gives it a little lick that makes my eyes roll behind my back. As if he's not hot enough, he's also a tease in bed.

- I barely started, ungrateful thing. – the hand that was holding me still by my hips starts a slow trip from my stomach to the elastic band of my pants.

- Please. – I say softly trying to clench my legs together, completely forgetting the way his thigh is keeping them apart.

He catches the movement and chuckles with amusement.

- So impatient. – Hoseok says but finally starts to drag down my pants along with my panties.

My boots are yanked off and thrown out somewhere in the room just like my pants. When he comes back to tower above me I feel exposed, he's fully dressed while I'm undressed to his sharp eyes. He doesn't pay attention to my sudden reddened cheeks, just snakes one arm under me, lifting me by my waist and plopping me down, my head hitting his soft pillow.

Fucking hell, Hoseok's eyes are so absurdly hot, they travel around my body devouring me inch by inch slowly.

- Good thing I installed hidden movement sensors and cameras in this apartment. – his hand is on my stomach, caressing it gently. – Imagine the surprise I had seeing your pretty ass on the screen of my phone when you were looking for something on the floor of my room.

Cameras? Who the fuck installs cameras inside their own bedroom? Besides, that's something my boss should have known way before me coming in here. How did this job turned out to be so wrong?

Two harsh slaps on both of my thighs get me out of my thoughts really fast.

- Focus on me. – Hoseok growls, he opens my legs delivering more painfull slaps while he kneels between them.

- Hoseok! – I yelp opening them to try to get rid of the punishing hands.

He runs his palms on the insides of my opened thighs, making me quiver with desire as his eyes are focused on my exposed and glistened core.

- I prefer you like this; red, needy and panting my name. – he says darkly, lifting his eye to my face. – Aren't you ashamed of how disgustingly wet you are when I barely touched you?

- You've been manhandling me around since the very first minute though. – I whisper back.

- Didn't know someone could get aroused by being mistreated. – he mocks me but his blown out pupils and the tent inside his pants tell me otherwise. – What a slut.

He delivers two hard slaps on my thighs again, I scream loudly at the pain but he just glides his hands up, keeping me opened and exposed to his eyes. At this point I know I'm dripping down on the sheets.

- You're making such a mess. – his fingertips finally slide softly on my lower lips, I feel my whole body tense in anticipation.

Hoseok buries his face on my neck, licking the skin before pulling it between his teeth, and looks at my face again.

- Keep your eyes open or I'll punish you again. – he says as I feel two of his fingers being pushed inside of me.

I'm so wet that they slide right in, the feeling of his rings against my lower lips makes me release a soft moan when he's knuckles deep. Hoseok starts pumping his fingers in and out immediately, scissoring them inside me, literally stretching my walls the best he can. To keep my eyes open reveals to be a very hard task when he's fingering me so good.

- Keep looking at me, baby. – his other hand brushes the hairs sticking to my forehead, a sweat that I wasn't even aware of dripping down my temples.

His thumb finds my clit and I arch my back, my hands grip the sheets wishing they could grip on his hair.

- You have a tight little pussy, don't you? – he says in a husky voice.

I can't help but to close my eyes feeling my walls clenching around his skillful fingers. Hoseok slowly slides them out, opening my folds and gliding them up and down, missing my clit on purpose. He plunges the same two fingers into me again, making me cry out loud with the teasing, just to repeat the same process again, spreading my wetness all over. By the fourth time I'm begging for him to fuck me with tears running down my face.

- Look at you, falling apart when I have only two fingers inside you. – his voice diminishes me.

Hoseok slides his fingers out of my walls, bringing them to his mouth, and I see the ring I should rob covered in my own juices. He licks one of them, keeping his eyes locked on me, then offers me the middle finger with the fucking ring on. I open my mouth letting him do whatever he wants, feeling myself on my tongue. When Hoseok is satisfied, he lets me eye his beautiful skin being revealed while his hands work on the buttons of the white dress shirt still covering his chest. His faint abs make me wanna lick every line of it.

- But I'll take mercy on you. – he suddenly grabs my waist and flips me over, forcing me to get on my knees while my face is pressed down against the pillow.

- Please. – I beg for what it seems to be the millionth time tonight.

Hoseok opens my lower lips again, tapping my clit two times, making me squirm in desire.

- I want your little clit to get slapped every time I fuck into you, baby.

I moan so loud that any neighbor sleeping at this time will probably wake up. His words are so filthy, they send me into a frenzy and he isn't even touching me.

When I think I can't wait anymore, the painful throbbing between my legs becoming unbearable, I feel the tip of his member pushing inside me. Hoseok doesn't even let my walls adjust around his girthy length, his hips pound me incessantly since the beginning. He could have spent hours fingering me and I still wouldn't be ready to take him like this, the stretch is an addicting mix of pain and pleasure. I bite the pillow trying to muffle the ridiculously loud moans that form in my throat but Hoseok's hands start spanking my ass.

- Don't keep your sounds in unless you want me to force them out. – he growls at me.

- I'm sorry. – I manage to choke out.

- Sorry what? – his palms come down again even harder and I know I won't be able to sit tomorrow.

- I'm sorry, sir! – I cry out loud.

His pace never falters, just gets more and more punishing, his balls slap on my exposed clit every time, making me lift my chest a bit and look down on my body. I see him pounding in and out of me, a little droplet of a mix of our wetness slides through my folds and drips on the sheets. The scene is so overwhelmingly pleasurable that I'm instantly ready to combust.

- I'm so c-close. – I mutter under my breath.

- You're not allowed to cum yet. – even when making so much effort to practically rearrange my insides with his cock, he still has a controlled voice.

- No, sir, p-please. I-

My voice gets lost in the middle of a sentence when my hair gets pulled back. Hoseok brings me flush against his chest, my palms opening to feel the tensed skin of his abs. This angle makes him hit my sweet spot directly and he knows it, because he starts hammering that place unmercifully. I feel my orgasm so close that it's almost painful.

- I said no. Learn to hold that shit in, slut. – he whispers darkly in my ear.

My walls instantly clench around him with the way he talks to me, making it so much harder for him to move. I hear a soft moan leaving his mouth.

- Of course you'd like being called slut. I should have had my fingers in you when I slapped your face, I bet you'd clench on them too. – he slips one of his hands down my stomach while the other one keeps me in place by my hips. – Cum.

With that command, he slaps my pussy. And that's when I lose it. My whole body spams, he lets go of my hips and I fall on the pillow, his hips are still moving, not as hard as before, fucking me through my first orgasm.

- Fuck, you take me so good, baby girl.

The new petname makes me smile faintly against the pillow. My clenching walls are probably making him feel so good he forgot the harsh façade for a while.

- Come here, I wanna look at your face. – he slides out of me and when I start moving to get on my back he holds me still. – Wait a bit, little thief.

I feel the handcuffs being tugged and then I'm finally free. I bring my hands down, supporting my weight and looking at the red marks around my wrists.

- You won your freedom for now. Do anything stupid and I'll tie your four limbs to the bed. – he says unmercifully before twisting me, putting me on my back again.

Hoseok helps me to get out of my blouse, his hands not wasting any time in feeling my whole body again like I was fully dressed until now.

This time around I make sure to drag my fingertips on his abs. He looks at the scene under him, my legs opened and thighs all glistened, hands savouring the feeling of his soft skin.

- Fuck. – Hoseok curses making me look up at him.

The ends of his hair are wet with sweat, it's still parted letting me see the forehead, his hooded eyes are ready to eat me whole, lips red with our bruising kisses. He's still wearing the pants that hang low on his hips with the visible V line going down to his dick.

Hoseok is the hottest guy I've ever laid eyes on.

And he fucks me all over again. But slowly, with languid strokes that make my toes curl, dragging every inch of his length inside of me, making me feel full. I drag my hands on his soft hair, pulling at it, bringing his lips to mine, drag my nails down his strong back, leaving red marks. I feel his teeth doing the same with my neck, marking me so I'll see him when I look at the mirror again.

But I'd see him on me even without the marks. The feeling of his skin on mine is too remarkable to ever forget, the drag of his girthy length inside me too fucking good to let it go.

He seems to notice my mind is away and delivers a punishing thrust in me that makes my eyes widen.

- What did I say about not focusing on me? – he whispers on my lips.

Before I can even think of anything else, he's sneaking a hand between us to play with my swollen bud, making sure I'm feeling the maximum pleasure that he can give.

After what it feels like the third time I'm cumming, he finally slips out of my heat and lies down besides me. Our laboured breathing mixing with the constant sound of the rain outside.

- You can have this. – Hoseok finally speaks, taking off the ring on his middle finger and placing it on my belly.

- How did you know? – I frown looking at the beautiful ring closely.

- I saw it on your phone

My phone? The only time he had alone with it was in those small seconds when he got it from the floor and placed on his desk. Hoseok is way more skilled than I thought and now I wonder who exactly I just fucked for the past hour.

- Listen to me, Shadowcat. – Hoseok gets up on his elbow, cupping my face with one of his elegant hands. – Take it to Yuyi.

For the first time I don't see lust or hate in his eyes, he looks at me fondly, making my heart ache for affection.

- And come back to me if you wanna change the life you live.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #hoseok smut #jhope smut #jhope #hoseok #jung hoseok smut #jhope fanfic #hoseok fanfic

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datoneidiot · 6 years ago

Text

Of Paintings and Actors

This was supposed to be a quick 3k fic for @coconut-cluster‘s Sander Sides Hogwarts Au but it turned into a 9k mess. I ended up putting a lot of focus on the Roman Vents To Paintings into it but it’s based off of an anon’s submission: What if Roman asked Virgil to the Yule Ball but thinking that Roman wouldn’t ask him anyways and he really doesn’t want to be the only person he know going aloNe, Virgil gets asked by someone else and we get to witness Roman’s heartbreak.

Very Roman centric, lots of one specific painting, Prinxiety and background Logicality, very long. Im not terribly happy with it but I hope you enjoy!

“I was the only one who didn’t pass the Arithmancy test. It’s like, everytime i go into a room they all turn away and-- I can hear them laughing! They’re not even trying to pretend they’re not-- they won’t help me! I study as much as them, i study more than them but i'm still not smart enough, I’ll never be--”

The painting above the distraught Ravenclaw wished she could do more than just listen but there isn’t anything else to do when you’re stuck behind portraits.

“Now don’t say that. The Sorting Hat decided what house it believed was best for you.”

“What does creativity have anything to have to do with intelligence, Circe?”, Roman wiped at his wet face with the red blanket Virgil had so generously made for his birthday in their second year. No one in his house had even gifted him with a quick Happy Birthday, choosing to ignore the birthday sash he wore all day-- the one he spent a week on making. Roman didn’t know if he cried that night because of how warm his friend’s smiles were or because of how lonely he felt the second the tower door shut behind him.

He looked down at his ice cream tub, desperate for some food comfort, only to realize that his eyes were too watery to even see the spoon. How pathetic.

Roman scoffed, scooping yet another spoonful into his mouth and watching yet another tear fall onto the Magical, Wonderful School of Wizardry’s cold and simple wooden floor.

“I would make a great, uh what are they? They sing and dance and uh shake-- um spear? Spear...the guy who wrote those plays in theater? The muggles doing them? They...pretend to be someone they aren’t?”

Circe felt her painted heart break with each of the cracks and sobs Roman just managed to keep leveled. The only reason she would’ve even caught them was how often he visited her at midnight in her hidden room.

“I believe you mean an actor, dear?”

And the sad truth was he really would be a great actor.

In his first year Roman was actually excited for the new adventure that awaited him in Hogwarts School of Magic. He used to be so eager to learn magic and make friends and to actually be apart of something. Instead he learned how to walk in a full room and act like he can’t hear the snickers and whispers, how to use water resistant makeup to hide the embarrassing bags under his eyes from studying all night, how to blink away the stinging pain behind his eyes when he got a grade unworthy of his house name, how to break down without making a sound in bathroom stalls and at three in the morning but he still couldn’t get used to the horrible aching feeling of just wanting to be accepted. Of just wanting a hug.

“Yes! I can't even remember what I basically am! I don't..know..who i am..”

Circe had meet his friends before. Logan was leaving from what was probably the kitchen guessing by the bag of treats he was carrying. The Slytherin was quick and precise in his walk, a comfortable pink resting over the smile on his face. He gave a polite nod and apologized for disrupting her by roaming around so late. She wished him a safe trip back to his house. Patton was sweeter than a bag of sugar. He and Roman had passed by before and it only took five minutes for her to understand why Roman had called him Padre so often. She hadn’t met the one Roman had talked about the most. The Gryffindor seemed to be the most interesting of the bunch, especially when Roman said one his thousands of nicknames so fondly. But even Patton didn’t know how desperate Roman was to be away from his house.

Circe looks to her right, tracing over the detailed spaghetti bowl in it’s own, smaller portrait. Each noodle was defined, every mark on the bowl was carefully planned, there were even smaller containers of side options for the pasta and the longer she looked the more life she found.

The color scheme even match hers.

“You're the few who value other people’s feelings and thoughts at the same level as your work.” Though you value their thoughts on your work too much. “I've seen their ways, desperate enough to stab each other in the back just to get top grades on essays. You are intelligent, in your own way. You belong there.”

Another set of tears trailed down his face and Roman rubbed them away quickly, soft laughs barely making a sound in the secret room hidden by the Great Hall at ungodly hours.

He clutched the red blanket to his chest. “Thanks Circe. You’re always there to save my day.”

“If i could i’d turn the whole lot of them into pigs. Imagine how surprised all their dates would be when they found out they were going to dance with a boar during the Yule Ball.”

Roman’s boisterous laugh echoed in the hall, nearly knocking over his forgotten ice cream tub. And it’s bittersweet because only in the dead of night in an abandoned hallway he can laugh like this but in the common rooms during the day he’s too annoying. He’s alone either way. He wasn’t entirely alone though, he could be himself with his friends. If he ignores the growing voice in his head telling him he’s too annoying for them too.

“I was actually thinking of um, asking Virgil if he’d like to...go with me--” Roman looked down at the blanket he was hugging, tracing over the castle emblem Virgil added in a corner. It was red and gold, Roman’s two favorite colors. He marveled at how different they were from blue and white. It felt like it was made from warmth and love, like Virgil was actually there hugging him and telling him that he’s important and ok. Like he wasn’t talking to a dead witch painted by magic, taught to behave like the person they actually aren’t. He just wanted to be someone worth being proud of.

The sinking realization made him nauseous.

Circe wasn’t even a real person. Or at least, wasn’t anymore. Everything she would ever say to comfort him was the personality she was taught. She’s a painting. All of them were.

There wasn’t anyone joking about turning dates into pigs.

There wasn’t anyone supporting him.

There wasn’t anyone believing he’s good enough.

There wasn’t anyone saving him from himself.

There wasn’t anyone who loved him.

There wasn’t anyone listening when he cries about his stupid problems at three am in an abandoned hall.

No one was actually proud of him.

He’s alone.

It’s just him, projecting his stupid feelings into a blanket, abandoned in a hall. The love wasn’t coming from anyone but himself. He didn’t even feel love for himself.

“--but as friends! It was Emile’s idea of course, i would’ve never thought of it. I just...i don’t want to scare him. He’s...he needs to be protected and i don’t want to be the one hurting him. He needs a friend.” He sighed and put the blanket down.

Circe let her hands rest on the side of the frame. Fingers carefully tracing the wooden carving from the sides inching to the top, reaching for the side facing Roman. Ten precise dancers were unable to grace the top, an invisible barrier kept her trapped in the painting. Her fingers fell back to their spot, hands useless and arms empty. Circe growled. Neither of them could move past the truth the wooden rectangle held.

“You need a friend.”

A barely noticeable flinch shakes Roman’s world like an earthquake. The crack of thunder emits from an ice cream tub falling over, echoing through the school.

“You need to tell them everything.”

And this sounds worse than knowing he has nothing. Because he has something and he’s been so ungrateful of them. Logan, Patton and Virgil…

Passionate debates over which forms of magic are the best and lazy over-lunch conversations over which poetic elements are the worst, baked sweets during study sessions and random hugs after classes, snarky comments over Disney and emo bands and playful teasing during quidditch games, hidden smiles memorized and the imprint of purple and gray clouds and safety.

He has them, he has enough, he should have enough and he’d risky it all by saying they weren’t? That Patton’s broken heart over being called a filthy mudblood, Logan’s inability to move past his human imperfections and Virgil’s anxiety waiting to drag him down were so much worse yet he couldn’t even survive this alone?

That he lied to them for years everytime he said he was fine?

And he couldn’t forget Emile, Sabrina and Damien...

“No. I can’t bother them with stupid things, they have bigger problems than me to deal with and i can’t add on to it, they shouldn't have to suffer because me--”

“You help them with their problems...don’t you think they’d like to help you?”

Roman’s face screwed into uncertainty, “I don’t know…”

“They deserve to know Roman. They’re your friends, not the Ravenclaws.” Circe watched him fiddle with a faded corner on his robe. It was long faded from earlier in the year. Each year the one specific corner gets faded quicker than the last.

“You belong with them. You can talk to them, they accept you. Virgil wouldn’t hate you if you asked him, i'm sure you two will have a great time at the Ball.”

Roman’s eyes shined with unshed tears and a mix of doubt and hope, “You really think so?”

And for a second he silenced that stupid voice in his head telling him they won’t, he can’t--

“I will. Well, i mean, i’ll ask Virgil but i’d, i’d like to wait a little before telling them my uh, problems...”

Despite the fear of the future he was excited. Circe said he could, he could, he’s going to ask Virgil to the Yule Ball. They’re friends with him for a reason. They accepted him and everything that came along with him. They loved him. He can do this. It’s only a question, what’s the worst that could happen?

“Thank you Circe. I-I can’t ever thank you enough.” Roman jumped up from the floor, arms opening up on instinct, a buzzing feeling of emptiness in them. He let them fall back to his sides and smiled widely at her instead.

Circe watched Roman start to leave, gathering the ice cream tub and carefully wrapping the red blanket around him.

“Roman.”

The troubled Ravenclaw wrapped in red faced her, curiosity and confusion evident. He’s very expressive, she noted, though she wondered why he was able to bring the room to life and why it was more than just the feeling of it.

“You can do this.”

Roman smiled and smiled so wide he burst into a happy shriek of laughter and quickly turned down the hall.

He could practically feel air beneath his feet as he ran. His spirits were high and he felt high, literally and figuratively. Roman looked down at his feet as he turned down the left of a hall full of empty classes and he couldn’t tell if he imagined it or not but there was a little sparkle of gold from beneath each step he took. He didn’t know why or whatever it was-- maybe he was tired from studying and staying up all night or maybe he wasn’t actually seeing things and he was doing magic without even realizing it or whatever but he focused on this feeling, this wonderful amazing feeling. The feeling of being free and empty, of being full and warmth. Of air and water and fire and stars-- everything clashing together and falling into one and being able to see something beautiful. Of being ok and excited, of colorful futures and possible endings he’s loved in, of laughing with Patton and joking around with Logan and Ravenclaws welcoming him with open arms and smiles, of dancing with Virgil and the hunger for more of it. The feeling of flying and eagerness-- the feeling of previously unknown happiness.

He can do it, he can do it, he can do it

He will be ok

And it ran through his head from his heels hitting the floor to his heart beating in his chest as he ran through blurred halls. It was too much and not enough but he had to let it out before he burst. It started with little giggles and squeals to happy laughs to happy tears.

By the time he made it to the Ravenclaw tower his face was wet and his stomach hurt. He was sure he had woken up someone with how loud he was laughing.

“Are you alright Roman?” The knocker nearly scared the pants off of Roman and he dissolved back into howls and wheezes.

“No, no I’m fine I just-- oh gosh, I'm sorry for being so loud.” He barely managed to say the sentence without bursting into giggles.

“I see” chirped the eagle knocker, “Are you going into the tower?”

Roman was still smiling when he reached for the golden handle, “Yes.” He knocked once and it sounded like a cannon blast. He must’ve woken everyone up, they’re going to be upset--

“You’re in a dark room but how do you get out?” The little voice recited the riddle melodically.

Who cares if they’re upset at him? He’s ok. He’s welcomed. He can do it.

“You have to stop imagining it being dark.”

Roman thanked the knob before it closed behind him.

The pain of grades, the fear of laughs, the ache of loneliness, the numbness of routine. It was gone. Even if for only this night he could live without the stinging discomfort of being red and gold instead of blue and white, he could be happy. And tomorrow would be even better! And he’ll dance his worries away and spin Virgil until he can’t stand anymore then sweep him off his feet. And every day will be happy.

Roman skipped to the stairs and pretended to offer a hand to the Gryffindor up the stairs. He twirled and spun onto his single room-- none of the Ravenclaws wanted to share a room with him-- and whirled right back on to his bed, laughing all over again.

Tomorrow was going to be perfect, he’ll make sure of it. Virgil deserves to be treated like a prince and he had to make sure he wouldn’t trigger his anxieties, so not grand but personal, something that's special to him.

A million ideas spin in his head as he did before. It’s loud and quiet, mixed with the colors of the brightest roses and the coolest lavenders, softly drizzling like rain hitting a window. Sometimes it’s too much for Roman, alone in his room with his thoughts. It’s too big and it’s too small and he just doesn’t fit but now-- thoughts of gray and little smiles flood in, similar to warm blankets and faded robe corners and old an old stitched sweater left at home ground him.

With a gasp, Roman shot up out of his bed. He knows exactly how to ask him.

He would have to use a lot of magic to make it work and a lot of time. His eyes scanned across the room and landed on a stack of books. Studying would have to wait, this was more important. He was more important.

Roman focused on what he wanted to make-- creative conjuring and transfiguration was a higher form of magic he hadn’t learned or tried yet. Despite having no experience, time or sleep, he wove his fingers delicately in the lonely room for hours. He absolutely could not wait for tomorrow. All he had to do was wait till their shared dinner. He could wait eight classes right?

Oh gosh he couldn’t but he’ll have to make do if he wanted to woo the edgy tempest.

He can be happy. He held onto the soft fabric beneath his fingers and laid the sweet flower on top of it before going to bed at yet another ungodly hour. They accept him.

He can do this.

…

Virgil pulled his robes tight around him. Roman usually meet them in the mornings and walked with them, why wasn’t he here? Patton rubbed his shoulder.

“Hey i'm sure he just overslept or something. You know how he is.”

Patton knew him too well. Of course, all he was known to worry about stupid little things like this. Yeah it wasn’t the first time Roman overslept, and it wouldn’t be the last time he would lose track of time but he couldn’t stop the worry bubble in his stomach. Without Roman, without consistency, it felt like everything was watching him. Watching him walk down the hall, alone, without an annoying, loud-mouthed--

“Hi Virgil, Patton, I gotta go, see you later!”

Roman ran past the duo before Virgil even had a chance to speak. Today was going to be horrible.

“Come on let’s meet up with Logan.” Patton urged Virgil, grabbing his arm and bringing him from the opposite way Roman had just abandoned them-- it was a distraction for him, Virgil knew, but he looked back to see where Roman had ran off anyways.

Roman was-- Roman...how does he even start? He’s obnoxious, loud, annoying, prideful and petty...but he was thoughtful and considerate, he was sweet, if not corny, and he distracted Virgil, focused him, on anything but the other wizards and witches in the hall, let him ruin the corner of his robe, and was always first to make sure he was ok even during stupid fights. He grounded him, and Virgil was forever grateful for it because he couldn’t even imagine going a day without Roman looking out for him and protecting himself from himself. It was a big change from keeping defenses up to letting someone else worry for him and look at him like that with those big stupid smiles, and now the Gryffindor couldn't see himself without Patton, Logan or Roman.

And it was so stupid, so so stupid. Everything was stupid-- besides Patton.

“Hey V, four, seven, eight, you can do it. In and out. Like that, good-- where’s Roman?”

And Logan.

Patton eyed Virgil and gave a weary smile to the other speckled fourth year, speaking in a softer voice, “He wasn’t able to walk us today, Virgil got a bit anxious.”

“I didn’t-- i dont want, i didn’t mean to--”

Logan placed his hands on his shoulders. “We know, it’s not something you can control, just breathe. Uh, how does Roman typically-- the Ravenclaw besides the Charms class...adores flying...with, um.. her turtle companion? Named…”, Virgil noticed how Logan’s eyes caughts Patton’s and the smile he gave him, “--Pat! Rick, uh Patrick. Patrick the...Turtle.”

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh when Logan turned an embarrassing pink. Patton giggled, “Just like Roman! I’ll see you second Lo!” and headed off for his first class.

Logan watched Patton leave, sluggishly waving a hand bye. Virgil snickered as they started walking again, “Oh my god L, that was so bad.”

“You will not tell Roman about this.” Logan said half pleading, half threatening. Virgil rolled his eyes but their smiles were still there, “Mm-hmm”

They walked in silence to their shared Potions class for a bit. Virgil pulled at the corner of his robe. “Thanks L”

Logan glanced at the shorter Gryffindor, “Of course, i'm glad to be of assistance. I’m positive you’ll see Roman in your third period.”

Virgil smiled. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad.

....

It was horrible. Virgil had nearly forgotten about the Yule Ball because of his panic this morning. How could he forget it? Everyone’s been raving about it for the past two weeks.

Potions with Logan was replaced by ballroom dancing with McGonagall. Logan and Virgil were separated by their houses and taken into different rooms. He felt bad for Logan, having to be with Damien alone for a whole period but he had bigger problems now.

The Gryffindors were a mess. None of them knew how to dance and Virgil couldn’t tell if he felt better because everyone was doing terribly or if he felt even worse because to him it seemed like he was the worst of the bunch. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering how Logan and Patton were doing. Logan’s had experience already and Patton could pick up anything easily. They were going to have fun at dancing with each other. Virgil didn’t even have to think about how Roman was doing. He was great at any of the arts, singing, painting, dancing. Roman wouldn’t want to go to the ball with a Gryffindor with two left feet.

The thought alone of Roman dancing with him made him trip over his feet. What was he thinking? Roman wouldn’t-- he was dreaming if he thought Roman, of all people, would ask him to go to the ball with him. Virgil figured they both knew he couldn’t ask him, and Roman was the more bolder of the two, maybe he imagined Roman smiling at him like that, maybe he was just really touchy and gentle with everyone, Roman would never think of him like that but Virgil still placed it somewhere in the back of his mind that if he was going to the ball with anyone, it’d be him.

It didn’t help when he went to his third class, expecting to see his current fixation of the day waiting at the door, his eyes lighting up and the typical big grin the Ravenclaw gave him when greeted him. Roman wasn’t even at the door. Virgil walked in the class cautiously, arms tight around his books like something was going to jump out at him. He felt too open, too exposed. Roman didn’t say hi to him or explain why he was in a rush this morning. He scribbled stuff in his book and to Virgil it felt like he was intentionally avoiding looking at him.

Roman’s voice ran through his head when he answered the teacher’s question. It was taunting him. His brain short circuited right back to the basics. Roman’s avoiding him. What did he do wrong? He’s just overthinking this, Roman doesn’t hate him. He already has to worry about going to the ball and what he’s going to do and how he could possibly ask a certain Gryffindor to with him, at least as a friend. He has to stop jumping to conclusions.

The whole period was a blur of words, a clash of Roman’s voice, the lack of it, and the voice inside his head. It was a monstrous cacophony that made the whole room spin.

“Wait, Roman--”

He didn’t even turn around when Virgil called for him. He had practically scrambled to get out before everyone. Before him. When he got out of the room, kids had flooded the hall and Virgil was left to walk by himself to his next class without having a panic attack.

It didn’t get any better after that.

Virgil spent his classes distracted, worried that Roman was mad at him for something, that everyone was watching him and judging him. Why was he a Gryffindor again?

He only survived to sixth period with Roman and Damien because of Patton and Logan, but now he was alone with those two and Virgil already had enough trouble with them together.

He never really talked with Damien, he just...rubbed him wrong. He looked very similar to Patton, too similar to Patton to have such a polar personality to the literal ball of sunshine. And he wasn’t afraid to cheat or lie and he flirted with Roman every chance he got. And Roman flirted back! It drove Virgil insane, how could Roman just-- like it wasn’t anything-- and wasn’t wasting time or distracting other people.

But what was worse was the lack of stupid annoying flirting. Virgil dragged his feet, prepared to be unprepared only to see Roman and Damien talking quietly. Roman was loud and dramatic and Damien shared that trait with him-- though it was much less tolerable than Roman’s version. They weren’t being obnoxious and laughing at each other pick up lines or excessively touching each others hair and arms or complimenting each other--

Virgil popped out of his stupor, not having realize he was staring-- more like glaring-- at them. He caught Roman’s eyes. They were their normal brown but they looked different, big and worried didn’t suit him well. To Virgil, it just wasn’t Roman. And as fast as he caught them they were gone, Roman had turned away fast and Damien glanced at him. He felt his eyes burn into his brain and Virgil quickly opened his book.

Suddenly Virgil understood exactly how Logan feels about Damien.

Fuming, he tried to focus on his notes, he tried to focus so hard but all he could hear was their hushed whispers. Virgil can’t help but take another glimpse at them. He can see Damien nodding and very clearly trying to block his view of Roman. If he listens hard enough he can hear his sarcastic remarks and half-flirts and it enrages Virgil. Why would Roman-- and then he sees Roman.

He’s jittery, very jittery. He looks like a mess, he’s making sad attempts at extravagant gestures, there’s clearly bags under his eyes, he’s running his hand through his hair and jumping his leg up and down. He looks stressed, and when he sees Roman’s eyes he recognizes something. Roman’s anxious. He’s anxious about something? Damien puts a hand on his arm and speaks leveled, much more calmer than Roman. Why would Roman go to Damien of all people? But here and there after Damien says something and he can see Roman’s eyes he looks...excited. Nervous and excited and anxious. It loops in his head and suddenly he can’t take it anymore. He has to speak to Roman.

It’s agonizingly long but finally, the professor is done with his lesson and allows everyone to pack up before they have to go to their next class. Virgil closes his long forgotten, half scribbled notes and scrambles out of his seat.

He makes his way over to Roman and stops dead in his tracks when Damien glances at him again. It’s a look Virgil can’t stand, it’s one that makes him want to demand to speak and one that makes him want to run. Regardless, it’s a look of warning. A glare that screams back off. Like he was a villain. And it makes Virgil stumble back, his lower back hitting the table behind him. The chair underneath hits his lower leg and makes a loud ugly screech. He backs up. Then he runs.

Somewhere, lost in his thoughts he can faintly hear the bell ring.

Why did he ever think he could go to the Yule Ball with Roman? He’s probably going with Damien, everyone loves Roman, he’s charming, he’s funny, he’s sweet, he has this stupid, stupid smile. He’s probably gotten asked by half of the HufflePuffs and the other Gryffindors or Ravenclaws and Slytherins--

Kids flood the halls.

He’s going to be the only person he knows who’s going alone. Should he even bother going? There’s going to be so many people and dancing and-- he only imagined having fun with Roman, he was comfortable with Roman, Roman was-- he’d hate to see Roman dancing with someone else, smiling and laughing and making them feel special and important and--

Oh my god, he can’t handle this right now, there’s too many people, there’s too many people--

“Hi, Virgil?”

His head snapped up.

“I’m Ethan, we share potions and had ballroom dancing with McGonagall?”

Virgil’s anxiety skyrocketed and his stomach dropped. It wasn’t Roman, he wasn’t coming for him. Roman wasn’t going to help him.

“Well i was wondering if you’d go to the Yule Ball with me?”

Virgil didn’t even know he responded. All he heard was that same voice. Roman would never ask him, who was he kidding? He was so stupid, so stupid, what was he thinking? Why would Roman want to go with Virgil, he’s so stupid--

“The guy i wanted to go with broke his foot and i don’t want to be one of those losers who stay in their room the whole night, y’know?”

Virgil could barely see what was happening. “I--”, he nearly choked on his own breath. He couldn’t think straight enough to give an answer, “I don’t--”

“Are you already going with someone or not?”

“No--”

“Figured, you don’t seem to hang around with a lot of people. Well?”

Roman wasn’t going to ask him out anyway and he really doesn’t want to be the only person he knows going alone.

“Alright, I’ll see you there then, i got to meet up with my friends” and without a blink Ethan’s gone, leaving Virgil alone in the now empty hall.

Virgil doesn’t even know how he managed to say yes. He felt his chest tighten and he stumbled to the wall. Logan and Patton weren’t nearby and Roman--

He heaves trying to stop himself from crying. Four seven eight, four seven eight, four seven eight

At least he wasn’t going to the Ball alone.

...

Roman was convinced Lady Luck was on his side.

His mothers sent in his robes this morning and they looked absolutely wonderful. He was buzzing with energy when he woke up and the smile on his face felt real.

Roman even made sure to stash his gifts for Virgil with Circe so he can get them later. He felt bad for running past Virgil and leaving their classes fast but if he didn’t he would’ve explode and asked him right on the spot and Virgil would be pressured into saying yes and he’d be uncomfortable with everyone around and that was the last thing Roman wanted. He wanted to go so badly with Virgil but he wanted him to be happy and if waiting meant his happiness than he’d wait forever!

It was around Potions when a sudden thought struck him. Virgil could say no. Well, he knew Virgil could say whatever he wanted and he was hoping for a yes but he never considered if Virgil said no. What would he do then?

“Damien i don’t know what to do, what if he says no?”

“Then he says no. I thought not thinking about our problems with each other was our deal?”

“Damiennnn” Roman dramatically flopped on the desk.

Damien rolled his eyes, “You know i’m not good at comforting. Should’ve gone to Patton if you wanted a hug.” Roman half ran his hand through his hair and half pulled.

“Look, anyone would want to go with you. I sure wouldn’t mind.” He nudged Roman.

“Not now please.” Roman put his head down on the desk.

“Fine. You know i just like bothering racoon over there.”

“And not everyone wants to go with me, the Ravenclaws certainly don’t and Virgil might not want to either.”

“Not to vouch for him, but Patton would get mad at me if i didn’t, Virgil will say yes.”

Roman peeked up, “Really?”

Damien gave him a small smile and placed a comforting hand on his arm, “I’m sure, he gets so upset when we mess around. Besides he’d be lying to himself if think he doesn’t.”

Roman sat up again, “Thanks Damien.”

“Sure. Let’s stick to our usual way though, being nice ruins my mean face and i don’t want to be buddy buddy with racoon. I can respect your dramatic but i will not respect him, even if he’s your possible future boyfriend.”

“There’s the Damien i know. I just...i can’t help but worry over it still. What if i do something wrong?”

The class flew by and before Roman knew it he missed all the notes he was supposed to take, the screech of a moved chair brought him back to reality and he headed for his next class. He could do this.

…

Round found himself terrified when he walks with Virgil towards the Great Hall before dinner. He had so foolishly shoved his transfigured purple aster up his robe’s sleeves and he hoped he was hiding his gift well.

Logan and Patton had gotten enthralled in a discussion about some Magical Creature of the Week and he recognises this as the perfect proposal time. It was now or never.

“So”, Roman started not so smoothly, hyper aware of every crack in his voice. What was he doing?

Virgil expected something horrible. Why was Roman avoiding him? Did he do something wrong? Why was he so nervous? “Have you gotten your dress robes yet?” Roman wasn’t even going to mention why he hadn’t seen him all day? Was he supposed to bring it up? “Yeah i got some, it wasn’t the fun-est experience.” Even though Roman wants to ask what they look like, he holds it in. He’d rather see it at the ball and it feels too much like bad luck to see them beforehand-- it was a muggle superstition his mom mentioned before about weddings. Instead he clutches the flower tightly, watching as a petal falls from the corner of his eye “I'm sure they’re magnificent, Virge.” Virgil falters a step but it’s smooth enough where Roman misses it. Virgil was sure something was going to happen. Everything would fall apart in an instant. Roman quickly rushes to continue the conversation. “Was McGonagall the one teaching the Gryffindors dancing?” And then an even worse thought struck him. Roman didn’t want to be his friend anymore. He was avoiding him because was stressed about telling him-- of course he would be, he’s Roman, why would he want to be his friend anymore? Four seven eight, four seven eight. “Yeah, it was a mess.” Virgil blinked and kept his voice as steady as he could, “We were all really bad, it was kind of funny, in a way?” And when Virgil offers him the best smile he can Roman’s heart stutters to a stop for a few seconds. He can’t do this, he can’t ask Virgil, he can’t-- Roman looks ahead and he can see Patton and Logan walking nearly twenty feet ahead of them and he thinks of Circe. They’re his friends. It was just a question. He can do it. He lets the happy, nervous feeling course through his veins, from his heels to his heart and his head.

“I was wondering, Virgil.”

Virgil froze when Roman suddenly came to a halt. This was it, he was being cast off for good. Roman was sick of him and it only took a day.

“If um, if there was any, would you like, um Virgil...would you consider doing the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?”

Roman seemed to magically spring a purple flower in his hand and shly offered it out. Virgil was speechless.

What kind of cruel joke was this? No, Roman wouldn’t, Roman wouldn’t hurt him like this. “Oh”, Virgil wrapped his arms around himself like a shield, he had to protect himself from whatever was happening, “I was asked earlier by one of the Gryffindors and i said yes...”

Roman felt the ground beneath his feet fall. He was too late.

Virgil’s face had turned to stone and Roman couldn’t help but feel to be the receiving end of it. He didn’t even look anxious or uncomfortable he looked...angry. He was getting defensive again. The aster tilted to its side in his hand, unaccepted.

He hated Roman.

“Oh”, Roman cleared his throat trying to level how shakey his voice came out, “I see, i meant, we could go as, together as friends, not--”

The Grand Hall feels too tight, too big, too small. Just like his room. He feels so alone. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears and he was hyper aware of the gift just barely slipping out his fingers.

“Yeah it was just, it was stupid, it was a stupid idea, I’m sorry I-- I’m so stupid--”

“Wait, Roman--”

He can’t read the face Virgil's giving him but it’s enough to push on his spiral. Everything starts to get fuzzy.

Of course another Gryffindor would ask him. Roman wasn’t a Gryffindor, he was a Ravenclaw and he didn’t even belong in that house. Roman never had a chance, how could he have ever thought--

He built up his hopes up and it only took one day for them to break down.

“I’m sure you, you and you’re date you’ll, it’ll be a great time, you’ll have fun i’m sure--”

“What, what is that?”

Roman’s eyes snapped down at his hand. He saw it--

Roman stumbled backwards and he bumped into someone. It was a Ravenclaw. The disgusted face made him sick and their snicker echoed like thunder in the hallway.

“Ro--”

“I have to go, I’ve gotta, i need to, sorry i’ll, see you--”

Roman took another few steps backwards before turning and rushing forward. He didn’t know where he was going.

“Roman?”

He turned towards Patton and Logan, Virgil trying to push pass the crowd to them. Patton and Logan’s usual smiles were gone, replaced with furrowed eyebrows of confusion and worry.

They were upset and annoyed-- he interrupted their conversation. There’s too many people here. Hufflepuffs, Slytherins and Gryffindors and Ravenclaw alike. They were all looking at him like that like-- Roman doesn’t belong in this hallway. He needs to get out now.

Roman turned and ran as fast as he could.

His footsteps felt slow and heavy, like he was fighting against chains holding him down. The feeling of closing walls, locked jail cells and an empty bedroom. Of being squeezed and squeezed until the life was drained out from him, of gray and black and white, dull and painful, of stinging eyes and muffled sobs. Of losing friends and everyone and the feeling of freeing happiness.

How foolish of him to think he could enjoy hope and kept it without losing it as fast as he got it.

And yet as fast and loud as his thoughts clash and his feet run, he thinks he heard someone calling his name and a different set of feet trying to follow his. And it doesn’t help the aching loneliness when he can't hear it behind him anymore.

...

Circe remembers when she first met the ostracized Ravenclaw. A frustrated first year wandered the halls holding tightly onto himself. She asked where he was going. He gave her a smile that was too big.

“Oh, um the Ravenclaws didn’t tell me the password to the tower. But it’s alright! I'm sure it was an accident. They probably just didn’t hear me...when i was right behind them..” his arms tightened their hold.

“It’s usually a riddle. I believe this time it’s ‘Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?’.”

The boy’s big smile fell. “That sounds awfully complicated…there’s too many answers that could be right and even more that could be wrong”, he looked at the floor before looking up at her. There was a smaller but more real smile. “Smart stuff like that makes my head spin, but thanks. Uh what, may i ask, is my heroine's fair name?”

She smiled. “Circe witch-nymph, daughter of Helios, feared by man and boar alike. And what would my fair Ravenclaw’s name be?”

He laughed. “Roman. Roman Walsh. But that's not nearly as interesting as your name. How’d you earn such an extravagant title?”

“I was a nymph alone on a lost island in Greece. Aeaea was said to be a cursed land. There was no life but a single Acacia tree, a handful of boars and a single plant of wheat. I spent centuries growing and flourishing my island but the Acacia tree, boars and wheat crop remained scared to my island, a gift from the Gods. I had everything i needed, but there was something missing. When the first humans landed on my island i wanted to share the beautiful land i made. I let them stay at my home and told them of all i done, how important the single Acacia tree and boars were. I gave them food and shelter and i was happy. I used to hear stories of how humans cared but no one but themselves, how they hurt others to save themselves but i let them stay. We laughed and talked, they offered to bring me back to their land, full of people and friends waiting. They promised the safety of the island. I woke up the next morning to the sound of the Acacia tree hitting the ground. They slaughtered every boar and loaded them on their ship, staining the sands with red. They lied to me. I took a branch from my fallen tree and shouted the first thing that came to mind. They turned into swines. Squealing and running little swines...I destroyed their boat and kept the wand. I spent a year trying to regrow my tree but i couldn’t save it. Wheat had covered nearly every open space. When the next set of humans came and i pulled out my wand...”

Circe laughed, “Ah i'm talking your ear off.”

“What happened after you pulled out your wand?”

“Huh?” Roman had stars in his eyes, nearly falling over from how far he was leaning forward. He was looking up to her, crissed-crossed on the floor with such wonder.

He leaned as far as his elbows on his legs would let him and repeated himself, “What’d you do when the new humans came?”

Roman gasped, “Oh my stars was the first set of humans Odysseus and his crew? Were you that Circe? Was the Odyssey wrong?”

Circe blinked, “I--”

“Did they...oh they’re always doing this aren’t they? They made another powerful women evil? History is always written by the winner isn’t it.”

Circe wasn’t expecting to see Roman so interested and passionate about her story. Especially since it was typically retold wrong in a longer epic. It was...nice.

“You...yes, Odysseus was the one who offered to take me back to the mainland. It was so lonely on that island...i turned half of them back in to humans and banished them off of my island and they wrote me as the evil witch. I thought every human would be out to kill me so when the next set came i pulled out my wand again but...they spoke soft and treated my island the same as i did and they listened to me with the same wonder…” I see in you, “I hadn’t seen in a while. They set up a small camp by my home and asked to use some wheat to make food and i let them. I could see smoke coming from their tent and i went to make sure they weren’t burning but they were fine. Cooking food they said, and offered me some yellow noodles they called spaghetti. It was amazing. They told me stories and praised the land, my land. They said it was beautiful. And they thanked me for letting them stay before they left. I told them they could come back whenever they wanted and they smiled. It’s been so long since i saw them…It’s silly for a witch to miss spaghetti but...I’d love to have another bowl of spaghetti with them. A painting can’t really do that can they though?”

Roman yawned, having moved to lean against the wall sometime in the story. “You’ll get your spaghetti, one day...”

Circe smiled down at the sleepy Ravenclaw. She was happy to see the smile, the big smile on his face as his eyes struggled to stay open.

It was silent for a few moments, the whole castle sleeping in their beds except for a painting and a Ravenclaw. She wondered if breaking the peace was worth it. He wouldn’t get a wink of sleep if she spoke too loud so she waited a little longer until she couldn’t tell if he was awake or not.

“What do you think the answer to the riddle is? What came first the Phoenix or the flame?”

Roman lolled his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing for a split second.

“I think that...a circle has no beginning.”

Circe barely heard his answer. Light snores already starting to fill the new silence and she hummed to herself thoughtfully. She hadn’t heard that one before.

“What a creative answer.”

….

“Gracious morning, Circe!”

Circe blinked. Roman had practically twirled in the hidden room, moving quick enough that she nearly missed the weary miss footings. It had been two weeks since she had meet Roman in the middle of the night...which it was now.

“Oh, i mean, Gracious night!” Roman smiled sheepishly, if not tired, “I haven’t been paying terrible attention to the sky’s faces recently.” He carefully put something against a back wall and turned back to Circe quickly, his robes blocking what looked like a picture frame.

“The sky’s faces?”

“Yeah!” One particular side of his robe had been worn out from anxious fiddling. She wondered if it was from Roman or someone else.

“Oh, sorry; that was loud for this drowsy night.” He ran his hand through his messy bedhead and bounced on his his toes. More like anticipatingly excited than anxious it seemed.

“I like to think of the sky-- like when--” Roman struggled to find the words. He looked up at the ceiling on instinct and Circe guessed he had been doing this often with the blue and gold eagle clad tower’s full window view.

“You know when the sun rises? And it’s just waking up? The stars fade into a light pink, the cold black comforter reveals a wooly blanket dipped in a nearly forgotten blue. And on the light blues and pinks, a soft orange dances on careful toes until the sun shines through to watch, to see the animals wake up and the early morning grace leave from the sky into homes, laying on wooden floors and colorful carpets for cats to nap on, making everything new and different. Or the middlemost face. Rich blues and pastel blues light up the sky in a sundress. Clouds of different shapes, whites and personalities sprinkling the dress, each with its own story of adventures all over the globe. And the sun’s looking over them like a loving mother, shining down on the dirt and exploring every inch of our earth, through water and fire, soon to be covered by clouds as she listens to everything, every bird and story. Or--”

An abrupt silence brought a pink dusting over Roman’s cheeks. “Sorry, i didn’t mean to ramble about stupid whims like that.”

“That was...anything but stupid. How’d you…” she laughed a little to herself, “Sounds just like Aeaea.”

Roman grinned. He messed with his hair again before taking another, slower spin. “I think Logan would like the face of stars…”

“Logan?”

“Oh! Logan’s one of my friends! Well, i think? Hope...We argue quite a bit, and Pat and V don’t like when he fight, but he’s very skilled in poetry. I’d love to write with him sometime, he’s very good. Actually...he’s very good at everything, i think. And he loves to learn, he’s so determined and he’s more curious about the Earth’s water’s than the stars above. He said we barely know six percent of our ocean? That's like-- That’s insane! Outrageous! He can go on and on for ages about how the other planets are great and the stars are amazing but we don’t even bother exploring our own ocean! I agree with him, i think it’s just so interesting and how does he even know that much about everything--” Roman paused again, “..he’d love the Ravenclaw tower. He’s so smart...he should’ve been a Ravenclaw.”

“Who’s Pat and V?”

Roman’s face had lightened up significantly from where it was two seconds ago. The room seemed to come to life again.

“Patton and Virgil! Patton’s very sweet. He’s the best little puffball we’ve got-- he’s a HufflePuff obviously, Padre’s brother is in Slytherin with Logan and my dark and stormy knight cloud is in Gryffindor. Virge hasn’t said much about it but i hope it’s going well. Oh i would’ve loved to be in Gryffindor with him! We’d have so much fun and the emo nightmare wouldn’t have to worry so much. That’d be even better actually. He gets so...anxious all the time. All panic! at the everywhere. I didn’t even know one person could be so edgy and sensitive at the same time, he loves those muggle bands and eyeshadows a lot. I'd stay in Ravenclaw for the rest of my life if my chemically imbalanced romance wasn’t so stressed. He was kind of defensive last week, and it was a bit of a rocky start for us especially compared to when we first came here but he’s J. D-leightful! I think he’d make a good writer too, his work is very inspiring. I still feel awful from when i called him a bad raisin oatmeal cookie and Jerky McJerkface so cruelly the last time we fought. We kind of made up and he said it was fine but i don’t know. I think i pushed it after Incredible Sulk and Robert Downer Jr--”

“Are you two dating?”

Roman stopped abruptly in a dance meant for two, seeing as he was dancing as though there was someone holding his hands instead of empty air, and promptly hit the ground. He hadn’t even realized he was dancing since he started talking about Pocket Protector and Padre, he must’ve started his weird tango-ballroom dancing mesh when he started on Virgil. Impossibly`` messier hair popped back in Circe’s view. His face turned red from embarrassment, Circe guessed it was more the reaction to her suggestion than the suggestion itself.

He blinked, wide eyed. “What?” he said rather dumbly.

“You said my chemically imbalanced romance earlier? And you have uh, what are they called, pet names? For him?”

A beat passed before Roman started cackling. “Me and-- and Stormcloud?”

“Oh my, Circe--”, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he had to clutch his stomach, “Oh it’s been a while since i laughed that hard, my stomach hurts. You got quite a humor, that was great but no, Virge and I aren’t together like that. Just friends. Oh gosh, i hope i didn’t wake anyone up.”

He smiled up at her. “I should start visiting you more often. I’d love to hear more about Aeaea.”

“I wouldn’t mind telling you more, if you don’t mind telling me more about your friends. It gets pretty quiet in this room.” She eyed the frame by his feet.

Roman’s legs blocked it again. He thought for a moment, now turning to eye it himself. “Actually, don’t get me wrong, i really do enjoy Virgil’s company. I didn’t mean it like i was laughing at him, i would never, or at least not intentionally. His wit is impeccable and his humors just a tad darker but i haven’t thought of him like...that. I mean--”

“That’s alright Roman. You’re still young, your adventures just beginning.” Roman’s hopeful smile was short lasting before he fixed his hair again, picking up the frame behind him. It was half his height.

“Um, i can’t stay much longer, im supposed to be studying right now but,” he fiddled with the worn out corner of his robe before the smallest little smile broke out. Circe could’ve sworn she heard something along the lines ‘Picking up sunshine’s habit huh’ before releasing the corner.

He picked up the frame and in a much louder voice compared to how he said sunshine he said “For made you-- I made, for-- I made--” Roman exhaled, “I made this...for you.”

He held up the frame, it was a portrait. A painting, rather, of--

“Spaghetti?”

“I know it’s silly but i thought-- i figured that maybe you’d feel better, well you didn’t look like distraught or anything but i don’t know-- i just...i wanted to make spaghetti for you but your a painting so--”

“You painted...Spaghetti? For me?”

“You don't, you don’t have to like it or anything but i tried to make it magic and it kind of worked? I mean, I don’t know what i did, i don't-- but it got this haze and it like, it-- Virgil yelled at me when i woke up, apparently making or attenoting? Yeah, trying to make magical paintings is a more advanced magic and-- i woke up ten hours later, you know the Ravenclaws didn’t even look for me, Virgil he was so-- well i wouldn’t say terrified but he looked like he was really worried, i felt so bad for stressing him out but i really hope you like it-- I mean, you don’t have to really, it’s not, i'm not trying to, but i just--”

“Roman…” The Ravenclaw stopped mid-ramble. His hair was all over the place when he paused and he noticed the suddenly lack of noise coming from his feet. He had a habit of tapping his feet and pacing-- or dancing.

“I'm sorry--”

“I love it.”

“You…” For the second time, Circe was dumbfounded at the disbelief and awe Roman expressed, “You really like it? Like it...really?”

Circe smiled when Roman completely lit up, bringing life into the deserted room and continued rambling. It turned almost melodic in a way and she wondered if he sang when he was excited, blending words together and lightly sweeping them into each other.

“Could i put it up? Maybe you’ll be able to actually eat it!”

Roman was bouncing on his toes with the biggest smile, one he was failing to contain. How could anyone say no?

“Of course.”

It took a bit of struggling seeing how short Roman was but he remembered he had magic and carefully lifted the painting besides Circe.

“I hope it’s ok, i have to go study, i’ll see you later!”

“Goodnight Roman.” She watched him spin out of the room with more energy than when he came in with. Before she could even look at the bowl he came back in.

“Circe?”

Circe tried to turn so she could see Roman from the hidden exit but she couldn’t, instead she just responded hoping he thought she was looking at him.

“Thank you.” The sound of feet running off back to the Ravenclaw tower was the only way she knew he left. She looked back at the bowl. Carefully she slide an arm to the side of the frame. She hit the invisible barrier rather than feeling a wooden bowl.

He was a young wizard and bringing paintings to life was a very advanced magic, still she was beyond grateful for the gift. She waved the tips of her fingers on the barrier. He painted spaghetti for her and used so much magic to try to make it real. Roman truly was something else but it takes years to learn how to--

She gasped, feeling the curve of wooden and the smell of warmth fill her portrait. The front of her arm was gone. She grabbed on the object and carefully pulled back. How did he--

If Roman could do something this advanced...what other kinds of magic can he do? She held the bowl of spaghetti in her hands.

He really is something else huh. Something special…

….

Each step Roman took was an earthquake shaking the ground below him. Thunder and floods drowned and deafened every sense he had and the world’s spinning on a tilt. He doesn’t stop running when he starts heaving or when he starts sobbing, loud and pained, a cry a painting has never heard before, especially before eleven pm.

Circe searches from her portrait, scanning the hidden room for the source. A Ravenclaw runs straight into her room and when he stops, frantic and scared and he meets her eyes Circe immediately reaches out.

He throws something straight to the ground and before it even slides to the wall, he’s gone, running before Circe had a chance to speak.

A single crushed aster and a stitched sweater are left abandoned on the floor. And all Circe can do is stare at it.

Paintings can’t hug behind portraits. And actors want to sing about the faces of the sky, and know that at least one person sees them too.

#sander sides #hogwarts au #ahskj not happy with how I wrote the ending or the middle scenes #and I didn't play for it to be super long #but here it is #hope its illegible #I love your au coconut!#couldn't do it justice :v

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theangelslittlecanary · 6 years ago

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Thank you!!! <3 @kitty-selfshipping @empress-of-cornelia @apathetic-altruistic @fuck-yeah-selfships

1) What’s your and your f/o’s comfort food?

Sweets. 100% sweets for both of us! I tend to enjoy gummies and marshmallows, whereas Kuja likes fancy cakes like petit four <3

2) Do you have any weekly traditions? (Watching a movie together, going out to dinner, etc.)

We have sharing interest dates; where Kuja teaches me how to play the violin, and I teach Kuja how to paint! <3 It’s a nice change of pace in contrast to our more extravagant lifestyle :)

3) Do you have matching outfits?

We will never be seen together without having at least matching colors! We do have quite a few outfits that match, most of which we wear for formal events <3 (I am actually planning on creating a series of Kuja outfits to kind of build a wardrobe for him, so look forward to that! <333)

4) Do you have a bookshelf at home? What’s in it?

We have an entire room dedicated to be a library; it’s filled with all different kinds of books about history, fashion, plants, romance, etc. We also store our board games in one of our bookshelves, and one of them is specifically dedicated to Kuja’s small statues! <3

5) How does your f/o get along with your friends? How do you get along with their friends?

Kuja gets along okay with my friends, even if he does piss them off quite a lot! We actually play D&D with my friends! <3 I’m the DM and Kuja plays a healing based bard <3 He’s really good at the role-playing part, but a little slow at all the numbers and combat, which tends to annoy my more experienced friends?

Kuja doesn’t really have friends??? Wow that sounds mean. I do get along pretty well with Zidane! Garnet and Kuja have decided that the two of us get along a little too well

6) Is there an animal you or your f/o relate to?

Reptiles! They are solitary, nocturnal, and generally ‘lazy’. We enjoy spending days in bed with nice food and each others company. It doesn’t help that we actually own 4 reptiles!

7) Does your f/o collect anything?

My darling collects jewelry, artwork, statues, and other interesting trinkets! Our house could be a museum would it be a little bit more organized <3

8) How many pictures do you have of each other? Of both of you?

We have a lot of portraits made of us! Outside of that, Kuja had a lot of portraits made of him before we got together, and add to that all the portraits I make of him; and we could fill up an entire room of Kuja artwork! <3 I myself am a little more shy, so I don’t have any of just myself. (outside of the one Kuja got commissioned to keep in his wallet)

9) How does your f/o text? (With a lot of emojis, monotone, perfect grammar, etc)

Kuja writes with proper grammar (he doesn’t even shorten words like ‘Don’t’). I’d imagine he would use emoji’s sparingly, and usually just use ones like the rose or hearts.

10) Does your f/o leave you cute voicemails?

In a modern AU, I’d say yes; for sure! <3

11) Do you stay at home or go out more?

We go out a lot! Almost every day, actually. We often go on walks, or go see plays, orchestra’s, and other similar activities. We also visit art galleries, museum’s and auction houses. We are usually on the move, and while we do enjoy spending time at home, Kuja likes to be seen.

12) Does your f/o write?

He does! He writes a lot of poems, and stories. Most of the words coming out of his mouth are quotes of different works he admires; very theatrical!

#selfship #self ship #f/o #fictional other

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k-marie-lagesse · 6 years ago

Text

The Legend of Creyin's Vision

Chapter One: Jason Holsentof

“A talented seer of our bloodline will completely destroy them. Their blasted beliefs will crumble. Their entire being will crash down. And whosoever takes upon their name will fail. Kallo, Kallo – my son. He is going to tear them down – don’t forget that. My son will. I only wish… with every breath that I have left, that I would live to raise him, but I won’t be.”

The voice quivers, it is shaking and weak. “Remember that – I will not be there.” He says strongly, stern – finding a strength that does not exist. “So please, stand in my place and watch my son grow.”

The man looks up, his pretty eyes finding Jason. He has hazel-green eyes and a bleeding cut under his right one. He blinks the tears from his eyes and clenches his jaw. “My son.” his lips move, but the voice is in Jason’s ear and not coming from the man’s mouth.

He is tied to a chair made of stone and the man can’t move. His hands are bound behind him and he speaks to someone in the darkness. There are shadows surrounding him, but he isn’t talking to any of them, “My son.”

Just like that… Jason’s eyes flutter open. It is the same dream as always. It is mostly of shadows dancing, splashes of red occasionally taking the scenery. He can never make true sense of where his mind has found such a thing. This dream of his promptly began to haunt him after his mother’s death two years ago.

To add to the strangeness there is no such name as ‘Kallo’. It is like a fantasy – a name not found in their indexes. It has bothered Jason enough to have him actually take the time to look it up, but the name doesn’t come up with anything. There is no Kallo anywhere to their knowledge.

He looks towards the drawn shutters, sunlight forcing its way through the gaps. He glances at the analog clock on his bedside table – past noon already. He yawns into his hand. He is barely thirteen, his birthday in mid-December and it still being September. He kicks his legs over the side of his bed and leaves his room to the hall.

His father is not home – he is at work at these hours on most days. He can hear the radio though, meaning his father left it on – again. “Well Rick, I don’t believe these ‘ambassadors’ are proving much of a point. They are monsters and they flaunt that around like they should be proud!” one of the announcers says with disgust.

Jason leaves the restroom and nears the counter to listen to them for a moment. “Now, hang on Hal!” Rick defends, “They are trying to make peace. Let us hear them out – if things come to worse we still have Little Oakside’s school of Hunters to protect us!”

“A contingency plan is always one to be grateful for.” Hal chuckles.

Jason rolls his eyes.

“Yes, most of the residents in Little Oakside are certified hunters. It may be a small town, but there is no competing with Jacob Hutchens’s Academy of Hunters!”

Jason turns the volume meter down, since the on-off button is temperamental and unlikely to work either way. He slides the knob until their voices die down to even lower than a murmur.

The human realm only knows of three mago countries, though Jason never really took the time to learn them himself. Magos can pass into the human realm, but humans cannot pass into the mago realm. They claim it is just unsafe for humans due to their lifestyle depending on magic.

Magic – it isn’t something just anyone can have. No… only the magos have it and one must be born from a mago family. Though there are so many kinds of magos that one must wonder how long it will take before the world has magic together?

Peace has evaded the two realms for centuries – two at the least. Yet war has never really taken place either. Once, a long time ago, the Hutchen’s academy attacked the mago school just across the border. Instead of retaliating, as the academy had assumed, the headmaster of the school separated the two worlds with a barrier that humans cannot pass through.

Little Oakside is a small town, the population is just shy of seven-hundred, but it is a well-known town thanks to the academy of hunters. It is the only academy of hunters in all of Tercotte – Jason’s homeland.

The school was founded about five-hundred years ago. Doctor Jacob Hutchens was mayor of Little Oakside and legend says he befriended a mago before building the school. Instead they had begun construction of what was to become the greatest hospital in all of Tercotte.

It is said that the mago turned on him and that the doctor was forced to kill him in self-defense. Shortly thereafter the construction of the hospital was made into a school instead. Training began. The ages to attend the academy are: twelve to nineteen to the five-year school. An exam has to be passed, unless born in Little Oakside in which one gets a free entry to attend.

Thus far it is Jason’s only option thanks to his less-desirable aptitude results. Jason is smart enough to pass, just too lazy to try hard enough. He doesn’t like to do well either because he despises all thoughts of people’s expectations for him. Just the mere thought of people thinking he will do great annoys him.

Jason’s father was once a student at Hutchen’s, but that was a long time ago and James, his father, never tries to curve Jason’s own opinions. He always tells Jason that it is unfair to assume that they are all monsters. Thanks to his father Jason does not have a hatred for magos.

Jason looks at the folded newspaper as he sits to enjoy his bowl of wheat-based cereal. The town newspaper is called the Oakside Gable. He sees the title at the top and sighs in annoyance, Greene Academy’s True Dark Nature. Uvelde Greene’s Academy of Magos is supposedly the finest school in the entire mago realm – or so is the rumor.

Greene is the school that the academy attacked. They set fire to one of school’s wings and from what Jason has heard… several children were killed. The youngest child was fifteen, but even so… it seems cruel to attack a school that focuses on children of the same age as the academy, twelve to nineteen.

They killed a few teachers, but they mostly killed children. If he recalls properly the burning building managed to kill thirteen children and four teachers. The whole idea sounds… horrible.

His mother never liked the academy, “And I’ll be damned if you ever attend that school!” she’s likely rolling in her grave now that Jason is only a few days from his first day of classes.

Jason smiles sadly at thought of Celia. Not to boast about his own mother, but there is no other woman like her. She was, easily, the loveliest woman on their block. She was so beautiful.

He finishes his breakfast and then goes about his morning chores – as to not get scolded by his father later. He washes the dishes and sets them to dry on the rack before heading off to the living room to at least organize it. Ever since Celia died the house has been… well… a disaster.

Celia was a housewife – she liked to clean the house and cook the meals. She never had a job, but James didn’t ever ask her to work. He let her do her thing as long as she let him do his. Jason remembered asking her why she didn’t work instead of staying at home.

Her answer was, “Jason, my beloved boy.” He was eight at the time. “You are why I rather stay home. To stay with you and protect you is all I ever want.” She then kissed his forehead and he never asked again.

He passes the family portrait that sits on a table in the living room as he goes about collecting the various throw-pillows his mother had collected over the years. The blue-colored glass frame is eight inches by six inches in size. He was ten in the picture.

Celia sits in the green grass under the old maple tree in their backyard. Her platinum blonde hair is long and wavy as it falls to her waist and trails a little into the grass. Her blue eyes stare, practically smiling, into the camera. She leans against James’s chest as he has an arm around her shoulders with Jason between them.

James is a rather handsome man himself, though no one could see how he captured the model-like beauty. James has strong features too though. He is a little lanky, but his sharper form is intimidating to most. He has blonde hair as well, though his is styled in a more business-style as it is brushed back neatly in the photo. His eyes are a soft brown and nothing like Jason’s.

Jason’s appearance is not at all like either one of his parents. He sees a few of Celia’s softer features. He has her straight nose and high-cheekbones, but everything else doesn’t quite match either. His hair is a light-brown that looks a little golden when the sun bounces off of it and his eyes… well… they’re hazel-green.

Jason drops the pillows into the longest lounge they own, most of them rolling off, and takes hold of the picture. On the surface, as he examines the last family picture they took together, he can make out his own reflection. He blinks at the picture as it almost appears to move from having stared at it too long, but once he blinks an image flashes across his reflection.

Five long scars cut across the left side of his face. He drops the frame and it lands on one of the many pillows as he reaches up to touch his face. There is nothing there. He shivers once before reaching down and picking up the frame. A small chip now decorates the edge and he frowns. He puts the frame back onto the table and returns to picking up the pillows.

He doesn’t organize the pillows and merely goes back to his room. Again he stops at the picture to stare at his mother – she was too young to have died. He traces his fingers on her face and then shakes loose the tension building in his shoulders, right… no time to brood.

He returns to his room and sends a message on his crap-of-phone to his closest friend, but Arthur doesn’t answer right away. He changes into his clothes for the day, which consists of a graphic tee and torn jeans.

As he slips his tennis-shoes on his phone beeps. He reads the message that basically states that Arthur knew he was going to be late and that they’re at the café waiting for him.

Jason quickly finishes changing and heads out the backdoor. He grabs his bicycle and rides to the town center. He sees his friends and jumps over the low fence of a café’s outdoor dining.

Arthur leans towards his girlfriend, Anita, who smiles a little coyly at her boyfriend. Jason slides between them and as Arthur pecks Jason’s right cheek Anita gets his left one.

“Jason!” Arthur immediately chastises in annoyance.

Anita giggles as Jason rubs off Arthur’s peck before smiling really big. Jason likes interrupting their time together. The last two boys at the table laugh as well – they are Arthur’s friend and not Jason’s. Jason is more of a loner than anything else – he made exceptions for Arthur and Anita, though many people wish to befriend him.

Arthur’s friends are Henry, the smartest kid at their school, and Julius the most charming guy at their school. They are not very interesting in Jason’s opinion, but Arthur likes yes men. Arthur has to focus on image due to the fact that he is one day going to be poster boy of the academy – it is Arthur Hutchens’s fate.

“You’re late.” Anita says as she wipes the lip-gloss stain from his cheek with a rough rub of her finger against his skin. Anita’s skin is as white as snow and her eyes are a deep auburn that almost appears to be red. Her hair is long and straight and so dark Jason swears it is black.

She cocks her head to the side, “We tried calling, but you never answered.” She informs with a gentle smile on her face.

Arthur nods, “I even went and knocked on your door – but your dad answered. He said you were sleeping.”

“Yep, I like sleeping.” Jason argues plaintively. He looks at Anita again after shoving himself between the couple. “You know I get jealous when my friends get all snuggly and close without me, right?”

Anita smiles again with a gentle tease on her lips, “Oh, well… then we’ll just have to make certain to snuggle with you, now won’t we?”

“Hey now!” Arthur defends in warning, “I am not snuggling with Jason.” He waves his finger, “You’ve never seen him sleep – he kicks! He also bites when he eats.”

Jason shrugs, “What can I say? I don’t like being touched – not by other men at the least-.” He says half-teasing.

Anita’s face turns red, “Jason!” she slaps his arm hard. It is no secret that Jason and Arthur are the most attractive boys at their preparatory school, Little Oakside Prep. They are handsome, flawless almost.

He laughs and shortly after Arthur joins.

Anita purses her lips before saying, “You two…” Anita is easily the prettiest girl too – it is not wonder to the jealous girls that she is the one who caught Arthur’s attention among the flocks.

It is the end of their last summer all together. Anita has been accepted to some prestigious school across seas, Henry is going to a medical school across Tercotte and Julius has prepared to head off to some high-grade business school.

Jason and Arthur are the only ones staying in town. Arthur, as heir to the academy, must attend the hunter’s school. Jason just doesn’t have another option here.

Arthur squints at Jason, “Can I sit next to my girlfriend now?” he gestures that Jason make space between his thigh and Anita’s. Jason smiles mischievously at Arthur before scooting even tighter by her. “Jason-!” Arthur catches Jason by his collar locks his head under his arm, “You little-!”

Jason pulls loose before Arthur manages to give him a noogie and sticks his tongue out at him. Jason does not have those kinds of feelings for Anita, but teasing Arthur about it is too much fun. Jason puts an arm around Anita’s slender shoulders, and if were anyone else other than Jason then Arthur would have kicked their ass already. “Like I said,” Jason begins, “I get jealous when my friends snuggle without me.”

“Jason!” Arthur hisses, “This relationship has no space for you!” he catches Jason by his shoulders and pulls on him. This causes for Anita to fall into Jason’s lap and make Arthur’s face go pallid. He releases Jason as Jason’s laughter fills the café courtyard.

Anita sits up and straightens her white blouse and fixes the large rimmed sunhat on her head. Only she can pull off this elegant style at her young age. “You two are so childish.” She warns before standing and putting her hand out to Arthur, “Come on, we better take Jason to the park before he decides to tackle someone-.”

Jason has too much energy sometimes.

Yet her comment comes too late as Jason is no longer sitting with them. “Where did he go?” he asks Henry who directs, with the cock of his head, to a table at the opposite end. “How the hell did he get there so fast?” Arthur demands as he releases Anita’s hand and leaves to collect their ‘pet’.

Jason is sitting and eating someone’s pie, “Really? I never would have guessed-.” He barely manages to get out before choking on his collar as Arthur yanks on it from behind. “Argh!” he chokes between the collar and the bite of pie now in his throat.

Jason catches the seam and tries to pull it loose, “Arthur-! You’re killing me-!”

The cure girl Jason was flirting with giggles into her hand at them.

“As if it would be that easy to kill you.” Arthur mutters angrily. He glances at the girl and politely apologizes for Jason’s rather direct behavior, “Please excuse our dog’s overly excited nature. We made the mistake of not taking him on his morning jog.”

Jason pulls free and growls, “I am no dog-!”

“Really? What have you done today?” Arthur challenges with a josher tone.

Jason defends with, “Sleep, eat and piss on your day.”

Arthur nods before saying, “Come on. Let’s go. Anita is waiting.”

“Yep, all right.” Jason looks at the girl as she calls for his attention. She holds up a piece of paper for him and he easily accepts it – though he does it looking innocent anyone who knows him knows he is not as innocent as he seems.

“It was nice meeting you, Jason.” She smiles, revealing perfect teeth rimmed by pink lip-gloss “I hope to hear from you soon?” she says as Jason glances at the contents of the paper to reveal her name and phone number.

He smiles at her, “Yep, bye… Amber.” He waves the paper at her and follows after Arthur as he mutters, “Unbelievable.”

They return to Anita and Arthur grumbles to Jason, “How-? When? What did you two even talk about for less than a minute?” he is in disarray with how easy that was for Jason. “I mean… sure… you’re a good-looking guy, but-!”

Anita glances at them and asks, “What are you griping about, Arthur?”

Arthur directs to Jason with both hands as he growls, “The dog!”

“I am no dog~.” Jason nearly says in a sing-song voice. He waves the paper at Anita and she giggles as Jason continues, “He’s just mad because I got a cute girl’s number only a few seconds after meeting her while he had to grovel and beg you for a whole year before you caved.”

“It wasn’t a year.” Arthur defends, but then adds quietly, “It was eleven months.”

“And three weeks with five days.” Jason mutters.

Anita shakes her head at them before saying, “Of course you managed to get that number so easily. You’re too charming and confident for your own good, Jason. I mean really…” she sighs in slight annoyance.

Arthur catches Anita’s hand and mumbles something that neither catch as they begin to leave the café. His phone begins to ring only second after they exit a horrible little tune of dread.

Both Anita and Jason know whose ringtone that is. It is Rebecca Hutchens – Arthur’s overbearing mother and headmistress at the academy. He grumbles something else before answering, “Yes ma’am?” he releases Anita’s hand and gives them his backside as he steps away to take the call.

Anita glances at Jason with worry in her pretty eyes. “The more she calls him the more he starts to believe her, Jason.” At first Jason doesn’t understand what she means, but then she says, “He will be blinded by her beliefs.”

Jason frowns.

Arthur has not true thoughts over the mago matters. His mother fills his head with hatred and anger, and it scares Anita how easily influenced he can get by her. Anita’s father often argues that magos are just like humans – so her opinions are more about peace and love than hatred.

Jason offers her a reassuring smile when she finally meets his gaze, “Well, you know…” he begins his usual teasing, “if he does become blind with mago-resentment I’ll be here for you.” He winks at her and then gestures to his self-amazingness.

She looks at him wide-eyed before punching him hard on his arm, “Don’t joke like that! Arthur isn’t even listening right now!” that is her usual reaction to his flirting when Arthur isn’t around.

Jason chuckles as Arthur ends the call. He clenches the phone tightly in his grip before letting out a sharp sigh. He looks at Jason, “Sorry, my mom wants me to go with her somewhere.” He rolls his pretty blue eyes, “I have to go. See you guys tomorrow?” Whenever he speaks to his mother he can’t ever meet their gaze afterwards.

He looks at Anita for a long second before saying, “I would have liked to walk you home, but… you know.” He pecks her cheek lightly and leaves them behind with his head hanging low.

Jason’s smile fades, “Oh, that’s what you mean.”

Anita nods, “He has a lot of weight on his shoulders, Jason. The thought of both of you at that wretched school…” her shoulders begin to shake, which means she’s about to cry. “To expect all magos as evil is cruel and unforgivable!” that… honestly sounds like something Celia would get worked up about.

Jason and Arthur are both aware of her hatred for the academy. They’re almost certain this hatred was spurred by her father – though Jason has never met the man in person. The man is known for being stern and strict.

Jason catches Anita and pulls her into his arms. He loves her like one would love a sister – or so he assumes. “It’ll be fine – you’ll see.” He hugs her tightly before kissing her gently on the top of her head where her hat stabs his face. He whispers, “Come on. I’ll walk you home. I know how worried your mother gets.” He starts to walk, though something tugs at the back of his mind – is he forgetting something?

“Yeah, she worries when you’re the one walking me home.”

He looks at her innocently, “Me? But I’m a saint!” he feigns having been hurt by her words.

Anita raises a thin eyebrow, “Even my mother has heard of you.” She assures – he’s one of those boys most mothers warn their daughter to evade.

He shrugs, “It’s not my fault.” he mutters. He is not one to keep quiet if he dislikes something, after all. If he likes something – or someone, he is not about to keep that to himself. Jason is not bashful.

His mother was often criticized for his behavior. The other mothers would claim that Celia had not raised him with proper behavior, but his mother was always proud of his honesty.

Celia would tell him, “Few people are brave enough to speak up when they know something is wrong. Not everyone is brave enough to live in honesty, Jason. Always, and I mean always, be honest. Strive to keep the truth, baby.” Then she would plant a kiss on his forehead and say, “I am so proud of you.”

James is the same. When the school dean would call to complain that Jason had caused, yet again, another ruckus James would challenge it. “What did he say? Oh, is that all? What’s so wrong about that? Maybe you should be calling other parents, Dean Richards. Or maybe I should file a complaint about school integrity if you want to try to hold that against my son?!”

Jason and Anita chat quite a bit as he walks her to the nicer end of town. They enter into a gated community where Anita has to push in a code to gain access. Jason asks the question he dreads the answer to, “So… when do you leave to school?” after all… she is going very far away.

Anita shrugs, “In a week, I believe.” She sighs, “A little more than.”

Jason nods slowly, “We should throw you a party!”

Anita laughs that laugh that always makes the tips of his ears burn with the pretty sound of it. She then says, “Really? You and Arthur preparing any kind of gather sounds like a dreadful idea.” she admits.

“Hey now… just because the last time we planned a party things got a little out of hand doesn’t mean that we’re bad at it!” he immediately defends. “I didn’t know that those balloons were flammable! And Arthur, being the stuck up pampered brat that he is, didn’t know how important eggs are to a cake’s stable integrity!” or that one should first crack the eggs before putting it into batter, but that was a different occasion…

Anita laughs harder, “I was actually referring to the party you guys put together for the basketball team – not the surprise party you guys tried to make for me, but thanks for reminding me of that attempt as well.”

Jason is thoughtful, “Huh, I suppose we have failed twice at it. I guess we are bad at that kind of stuff?” he scratches his chin. “I had forgotten the basketball team’s party.” Jason was the team captain and since they started the season off so well Arthur suggested throwing a ‘good-work’ party. A small gathering to thank their efforts. It ended as badly as Anita’s party when the Hutchen’s family villa’s great hall curtains, which there were about ten of, caught flame.

Anita nods, “Yes, how about we just go out and eat?” she nudges him happily. “I’d rather it were just us three and not a swarm of people who could really care less.” She smiles sadly.

“What’s the matter?” he asks gently.

She shakes her head side-to-side, “You know? You and Arthur are the reason I sad about leaving – just you two.” She bites her lower lip. “I’m going to miss you guys so much. Arthur may be my boyfriend, Jason, but you are my best friend.” She covers her face – here come more tears.

Jason puts his hand on the top of her hat and says, “Anita, we’ll keep in touch. I’ll text you, or call if you rather? I’ll even write you letters!” he smiles big – mischievously as he immediately comes up with really horrible things to send her. It is her response that makes him suddenly believe that he will never see her again though.

She smiles at him, but it is not at all sincere like the rest. He sees in her pretty auburn eyes are hiding something. They are sad, because she is lying. “Yeah, I’m sure we’ll stay in touch.” Yet if she is lying… does that mean it will be her fault they don’t talk anymore, not his?

It isn’t long after that they arrive to one of the larger houses in the community. Jason runs up the steps of the estate as Anita shouts, “Jason-! Please, your face is the last my mother wants to see-!” but he was already knocking on the door.

It isn’t Mrs. Jenkins who answers though, but an older man. His eyes almost look like blood, but after a moment Jason realizes they are just a redder auburn than Anita’s own eyes. This must be her father, Mr. Tyler Jenkins – millionaire.

That doesn’t at all intimidate the poor boy, because he puts out his hand and smiles broadly, “Hello, Mr. Jenkins! I’m Jason Holsentof.” He holds his hand out with a big and handsome grin going across his chin. He waits patiently as Mr. Jenkins studies him.

“Is that so?” the older man says slowly, still evaluating Jason. He finally accepts Jason’s outstretched hand and says, “You look more like… a Battelle to me.” He releases Jason’s hand and wipes his palm on his shirt as if Jason may be carrying a disease. Jason only offers a condescending smirk in response.

Mr. Jenkins gestures to Anita, “You are early.” He states rather plainly.

“Why are you back already?” Anita nears him at the door, “I thought you wouldn’t be back until Friday?” Anita asks him as she pauses to stand by Jason. Mr. Jenkins’s eyes flick between the two teens before he gestures to his daughter to enter.

Anita looks at Jason, “Thank you for walking me home.” She kisses his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Jason nods as the door begins to close on him. He shivers with a thought – he is never going to see her again, is he?

Chapter Two: The Man at the Grave

Jason walks around the block towards a place he knows is nearby the Jenkins’s manor. He walks past the park then the convenient store, and finally he see the large sign over the entrance of his goal. It reads: Oakside Cemetery. He never visits unless his birthday or her own, but he is too close by not to visit.

He freezes at the entrance as he sees a tall man at her tombstone. His back is to him so Jason can’t make out any features other than the light-brown hair that falls over the back of his neck. Jason nears slowly to hear the man actually talking to Celia the way Jason does.

“Here I am again. Anniversary of the first day we met, my old friend.” The man grumbles a little sadly. His voice is familiar, though Jason cannot fathom why. “I should have come sooner – I shouldn’t have left.” The man whispers, then his hands form into angry fists, “I shouldn’t have let you leave – I am so sorry, Cylia (sī-lēʌ).” That isn’t exactly her name.

The man then chuckles uneasily before saying, “You should have run from him! Why did you attack him?!” is he… crying? He continues with, “No, I know why. For him, I get it – of course. I would have done the same, but… Cylia! I was the one meant to die, not you!” he slams his fist on the top of Celia’s tombstone.

“Hey! Stop that!” Jason shouts. That is his mother he’s attacking there!

The man’s body stiffens, but he doesn’t turn. Instead Jason hears the man whispers, “So it begins. Forgive me, Cylia. I know you do not wish for him to meet me, but it will soon be time.” He bolts, running into the forest trees of Havoc – the boarder of mago and human realms.

“Wait!” Jason shouts as he chases the man, yet once the man enters into the canopy of trees that only hunters are permitted to enter he stops. He stops right at the edge of the forest.

The man, realizing Jason has stopped following turns to face him. The shade of the trees blocks his features a little, but… he looks familiar. The man smirks at Jason and he says, in that familiar voice, “We will meet soon, Jysaine (jī-sān).” He turns and bolts forward again.

“I will remember you!” Jason shouts angrily. How dare that man hit Celia’s tombstone? Jason shivers in anger before turning around and walking back to her grave. He stops when he sees the fresh flowers there, pink carnations – those were her favorites.

Jason feels his tears prick, “Mom.” He bites hard on his lower lip before shaking loose his tension. “I’m sorry.” The guilt he feels is something impossible to compare to any experiences he has had in his life.

She wouldn’t have been out that day if he hadn’t been avoiding her all day. She was out, frantically looking for him, but why? She knew he didn’t like to come home early, Jason hated everyone back then.

He was once cheery and upbeat, like he is now. Jason’s behavior changed when he turned ten and he began to understand the rumors people would tell about his family. He was embarrassed of them and ashamed of being a part of that family. That phase continued until she died, then he realized everything he lost.

His mother’s favorite time with Jason was when he was laughing or teasing his friends, so in her memory he is what he wants to be again. Jason likes bringing laughter, even at his own expense.

Every year the only thing Jason can muster to tell her is that he is sorry. He can’t explain why he is sorry, only that he is. James is the only one who understands why Jason is sorry too. Celia was out looking for him that day, the day the car took her.

James doesn’t blame Jason, but he does understand that Jason is in pain about it. He doesn’t try to soothe him anymore, he only keeps him company. Jason came today to talk to her, finally. No words other than ‘I’m sorry’ will leave his lips though.

He shakes his head again – nothing else will leave them. “I’m sorry.” And now he’s sorry for not having more to say. Jason could spend hours telling Celia about his day – maybe exaggerating a little here and there – but not today and not tomorrow. Nothing ever leaves his lips once he is there.

He walks home, head low as the rain begins to slowly pelt into his hair. It was raining the last time he saw her too. It should have been snowing, but it rarely snows in Little Oakside.

He was walking off, because he was mad at her. He can’t even remember what about. She ran out of the house, chasing him with the red umbrella in her hand. “Jason! Jason!” she run to him and catches his arm gently, “You’re going to get sick!” she holds the umbrella out for him.

He pushed her hand away that day and walked off without a word. “Be careful!” she shouts after him, holding the umbrella close to her, but she was wounded by his actions and couldn’t bring herself to follow him again.

Whatever happened after he wasn’t sure? He doesn’t know what caused for her to leave after him yet again, but she was hit by a car that towed her straight into the side of a house. The drive managed to get out unscathed, but Celia… Jason shivers at the thought.

That same evening James left work and rushed to collect Jason, who was at the police station. Celia was dead by the time they arrived and the man who killed her went to trial for involuntary manslaughter – he wasn’t even intoxicated. It was all odd.

He fell asleep at the wheel, though he claimed he hadn’t been tired until that exact moment. He was given five years – five. That’s all.

James arrived at the station only ten minutes after he got the phone call. When Jason had tried to leave home before his father arrived, but the officers told him to stay put, because that was his father’s orders. They don’t live far so Jason figured he could leave home on his own.

“Your father said you are to wait here for him. He also told us to not to let anyone else pick you up.” which is peculiar from James.

When James arrived and took him home he was quiet. He had likely had no time to mourn yet, but his main preoccupation was Jason. When they got home Jason watched as his father ran around the house locking doors and pulling the shutters down. Then he vanished to his room – without a word.

Jason stole a peek that evening into James’s room to see him preparing his hunter’s pistol. Ever since that day James has slept with the gun under his pillow and Jason still doesn’t understand why.

He looks up as a familiar black car comes to a slow halt by him, “Need a lift? You know, I hate picking up hitchhikers, but seeing homeless children breaks my heart.” The man teases from behind the wheel.

“Hey dad!” the boy says cheerfully. Jason runs around the front of the car to take the passenger side seat. He slides into the seat and then looks at his father, “How was work?”

James sighs, “I was lucky to escape as early as I did today.” The car begins to move forward.

“Dad?” he whispers, finally wanting to talk to him about it.

James hummed, “Hmm?”

“I miss her.”

James smiles sadly, “Me too, but… I still have you.” He parks into the driveway of their tiny home and looks at his son again. “And I am so thankful that I do.” He reaches out and tousles Jason’s wavy hair, “You look just like her, Jason.”

Jason smiles, “I do not look like her.” which is partially true. Jason has a few of her features, and none of his father’s. Jason does not understand why that is. “All right, I should make us dinner.” He claims as he climbs out of the car and heads towards the door.

“Yeah, especially considering I was promised a homemade breakfast this morning!” James shouts jokingly, “Although I should have known seeing as how you never wake up before noon unless you absolutely must.”

Jason shrugs, “What can I say, dad?” he enters the house and stops suddenly behind the couch, “Fuck!”

“Jason, language-!” the older man begins to chastise.

“I forgot my bike!”

James stares at his son wide-eyed, but then he begins to laugh – just like him to forget something like that. “Oh, I will pick it up in the morning, Jason.” His father assures. If it isn’t at the café any more than it is more certain that one of Jason’s friends took it home for the night.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, I’ll ask Arthur if one of the other two took it.” They likely did since everyone knows that Jason is forgetful. He sends the message quickly before heading off to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

“I expect a delicious supper!” his father warns teasingly.

“Yeah, I make no promises.” His phone beeps and Arthur has replied. “Alright, Julius took it when he saw it outside the café. Julius says he’ll drop it off in the morning as he goes off to his summer club.”

“Is he the tennis kid?” James asks from the living room.

Jason looks out to see his father with the glass frame of their family. He has it open in the back and it appears that he slid something in the back before closing it shut once again.

Jason finally answers, “Yeah, he’s the one in the summer club in order to keep up with his tennis practice.”

James looks at him and smiles softly before putting the frame down on the table. “Need help in the kitchen?”

Jason shakes his head, “I got it dad.”

Chapter Three: The True Beast

“A talented seer of our bloodline,” Jason tosses in bed as the voice repeats that sweet promise again, “will completely destroy them. Their blasted beliefs will crumble. Their entire being will crash down. And whosoever takes upon their name will fail. Never forget that, my son.” There is an awkward beat before a handsome man enters his vision.

He has wild light-brown hair and those piercing hazel-green eyes – he looks like Jason, only older. He has a small scar under his right eye. His pretty eyes land on Jason and his eyes turn silver as he says, “Wake-up!” a cruel hand of glass, not of the mans, slashes at Jason suddenly and blood obscures his view.

Jason sits up in his bed. A cold sweat coats his body and he is panting heavily. Fear tickles his spine and finally he lets out a sigh of relief when he realizes that it is all just a terrible nightmare. He leans back and lets out a second breath of relief and his eyes begin to drift again.

Before they settle close the man shouts into his ear again, “Wake-up Jysaine! You must get up! They are here.”

He sits up again. He isn’t sleeping, so why does he hear that voice? After another second of silence he hears shuffling within the house. Feet are running on the soft carpet, and then he hears grunting. “Dad?” he says groggily. He pushes open his door, but pauses as his view is greeted with several people in thick hoods standing at the end of the hallway and within their living room.

He slowly and softly leaves his room to see better, but what he sees only makes his skin turn to ice. His father is on his knees in the center of them, “Tell me the truth, James! Was that bitch a mago or not?!” the woman who stands before him demands. She is also wearing the thick black cloak of the Hutchens Academy, but her voice is familiar.

Jason looks at the smaller figure by her side and immediately realizes who the woman is – Rebecca Hutchens, Arthur’s mother. Arthur stands by her, uneasy. He is not a student, so he is not wearing a cloak. He grips tightly to his wrist with the discomfort of this situation, after all Mr. Holsentof was always nice to him.

James looks at her, “What do you want to hear?” He then adds angrily, “I married her instead of you! Do not hold that against her-!”

Rebecca pulls her hood down to reveal the same attractive blonde hair her son has. “I do not care about that! Was she a mago or not?!”

“Even if she were,” James shouts, “you have no reason to persecute her!”

“Little Oakside is my right!” she screams back. “We do not allow any magos here! You know that!” she is filled with anger, “Is your son a mago? Did you really intend on sending him to Greene without my discovering the truth?!” she then laughs almost disgusted. “You truly are a foolish dumbass. I know everything that happens in Little Oakside-.”

“You will not have him!” James shouts with some frantic fear. “Jason is under the protection of Greene and the Saints!” he says with a growing anger in every word. “You lay a single finger on him and Peo-!”

“The Saints?” she scoffs. “They died out a long time ago in a battle against the Yurelles!” she waves her hand dismissively. “And as for Peolenore Greene – he wouldn’t dare show his face here. His appearance would incite more fear and hatred. He knows that.” She then gestures to her men, “Get the boy. Catch him alive. We will make an example of him.”

“Do not fear, Jysaine. I am near.”

Jason’s body tenses – the man at the grave?

The cloaked men turn to see Jason in the hallway behind them, “Found him.” One says as they catch his arm, yet Jason is not afraid. He feels reassured. There is a presence here that makes him stronger. He doesn’t understand it, but… he feels security.

James’s eyes grow with fear, “Release my son!” he shouts, anger in his words. He flies onto his feet to rush at them, but the man behind James kicks him behind his knees and forces the older man back to the ground.

Arthur steps back with his eyes widening. Something about this causes him fear – to witness such a thing as a hunt is scarring, Jason is certain. Jason is almost positive that Arthur is as afraid as Jason is now.

“Your son?” the angry woman repeats. “You and I both know that is not the truth.” She catches Jason by his shoulder and looks him in the eyes, her deep blue eyes finding his hazel ones. “Tell me, what sort of beasts lies under your skin?” she pulls out her dagger from her belt and puts it against his chin.

What sort of beast lay under his skin? The Hutchen’s Academy teaches their students that what lies upon the skin is not truly what a mago is. A mago hides their true appearance with the skin they wear, yet Jason was born just as he is now. So if he is truly a mago, which he terribly doubts, then the magos are human in appearances, just as Mr. Jenkins always claims.

“Be strong. I am here.” The man assures. Who is he though? It is the man from the grave – no… that voice is from the dream?

Jason looks at Arthur and then at Rebecca, “I am not the beast here.”

Her eyes widen and she slaps Jason across the face, tumbling him to the floor with her force.

“Rebecca! Don’t you fucking touch him!” James shouts, using language he never uses.

Jason sits there as she berates him, “All magos are beasts under their skin! Magos like your bitch mother!” she grabs the family portrait with the glass frame.

“Put that down!” Jason shouts, finding a strength he did not have only moments before. That was the last picture they had taken as a family before she passed away. They had a few pictures scattered around of them together at the beach or on a picnic, but none were as authentic as that single day under the tree.

It was that day in which Celia made peanut-butter sandwiches with Jason’s help. It was on that day in which James came home early from work to surprise her with a bouquet of red and yellow carnations. It was on that day in which Jason showed them his new basketball tricks. It was on that day in which they all had together to just talk, laugh and catch up on one another’s happiness. That day under the shade of the tree in their backyard was a special one.

Rebecca looks at the boy unfazed, but Arthur flinches and steps away as his mother and best friend stare on another down. Tears sit on the edge of Arthur’s eyes – he had never seen a hunt, and Jason is certain it is going to scar him forever.

“What was that?” she challenges that the boy repeat himself. Her one mistake in assuming she would win is that Jason never backs down.

Jason narrows his eyes, “I said, put it down.” He punches the floor under him as his tears pinch his eyes now.

“Put it down?” she repeats, disgusted. She reaches out for Jason, but he crawls backwards until his back meets the wall. He narrows his fierce eyes on her as she catches nothing but air with her finger. She stands straight and glances at the family photo. She looks at Jason and then she throws it.

“Jysaine, duck!” the man shouts, but a little too late.

The frame crashes by the left side of his face, the glass splintering with the force and shattering. It cuts Jason’s face and his hand flies up to feel the glass embedded partially into his skin. He screams as James begins to shouts words that Jason never hears leave his lips before, “You fucking bitch! How dare you-?!”

Jason pulls a piece of the glass from his skin. Jason could only see red through one eye. He feels light, but stands up all the same. His fingers take hold of the picture before shoving it into his pajama bottoms pocket. He then hisses, “You’re a beast!” Jason clutches a large piece of the broken glass in his other hand.

He clutches it so tightly that it cuts his hand and makes him bleed. “You… you are the only beast here!”

“Jason…” James is pinned to the ground by one of Rebecca’s accomplices with tears leaving his eyes. “Please, Rebecca! Leave my son alone!” he punches the floor with one hand reaching out to his son, “Leave him! Don’t lay another finger on him!” he punches the floor again, “Please!”

Her accomplice places more weight onto James’s back. His right hand is twisted back against his spine. He reaches out to Jason once again, “Please, let me go! Leave my son alone!” James had once been a high ranking officer on the Hunter’s Guild, but about fifteen years ago left that life suddenly.

“You!” the fearsome woman spins to look at James. “A graduate of Hutchens and yet you fell for a blasted siren’s spell?!” spittle flies from her lips as she says this. Even Jason knows of her resentment to Celia. Rebecca has hated her ever since James married her instead.

James had a history of being a flirt back in his youth, but he had dated Rebecca for nearly eight year. She had asked him when they would marry and his response was that he was not at all interested in ever getting married. Then he dumped her, about three weeks later he met Celia and they married only a few months later.

“It was no spell, Rebecca.” James says sternly, “I love her.”

“And this boy,” she gestures at Jason as if he is some sort of mutt that has been left on her clean doorstep, “isn’t even your blood!”

“That may be so, but he is still my son!” James suddenly kicks the man off of him and reaches under the armchair he was being smothered next to. By the time he is on his feet he is holding out a rather fancy looking pistol in his grip. The bottom of the handle has the guild insignia – his old pistol?

His gun is aimed steadily at Rebecca’s head. James is a certified hunter as well – he graduated at the top of his class and even now he holds his gun so steadily in his grip. His expression is almost stoic, but there is an anger wavering within his eyes.

Rebecca has her dagger out and is holding it straight before her. “I will kill you if you dare to pull that trigger, James.” She warns him.

“I’m not planning on pulling the trigger.” James takes a single sidestep with his gun still aiming at her. He doesn’t look at Jason as he speaks, “Run Jason. Run as fast as you can and never come back, to the Forest of Havoc – run!”

He wants him to go to the Forest of Havoc? It is the forest with the barrier from the mago realm to their realm. It is the place where people easily become lost. Celia always told Jason to never enter the forest.

“I can’t.” Jason manages because he fears going against her wishes.

James shouts, which is something he rarely ever does, “You must!”

Jason flinches, but then he turns around and runs out of the kitchen door. He hears the gun go off as Rebecca shouts, “Arthur, go after him!” but Jason refuses to turn and see if his friends does, in fact, trail him.

Jason jumps the low fence of his backyard. He runs through the alleyway to the edge of the street. He runs across and then through the alleyway again. He jumps the trench and then skids to a halt on the wet grass on his bare feet at the foot of the forest.

He is too scared to enter the forest. “Enter, Jysaine.” The man whispers, “I can protect you, but only if you enter first.”

The trees are dark and they loom over him – frightening him. The he hears when he fears the most, footsteps behind him. He turns to see who, but he had already figured he knew who it was. Arthur stands behind him, “What, are you going to beat me, like your mother?” he challenges as half of his eyesight is obscured with blood and darkness. His eyesight is beginning to fail though none of the glass cut his eye – why?

Arthur only stares at him for a moment. He shivers and then says, “Jason, why didn’t you tell me?” his throat clenches, “Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your best friend! You could have told me you were… one of them!” he gestures past Jason towards the forest behind him.

“First of all!” the bloody young man defends angrily, “I didn’t even know! Besides… you made it very clear that there is a them.” He pauses before shouting, “I am just as human as you! You’ve seen me bleed!” he directs to the wounds on his own face. “You’ve seen me cry!” he refers to the day they buried his mother at the cemetery. “You’ve seen my laugh, dammit!” Oh, Anita would have protected him, not gone after him. “So tell me, where is the ‘them’ in all of those time?”

Arthur steps forward, “Jason, I-.” he pauses, “I don’t understand.” he admits. He looks to the ground as he says, “I thought we knew everything about one another. I mean… we’re like brothers, aren’t we?”

Jason bites his lower lip, “Like brother?” he repeats with some anger. He pauses and then looks at the forest over his shoulder, “Then tell me… why do you look so guilty?” He shoots Arthur a look, “Why do you look so damn guilty, Arthur?!”

Hi friend looks to the ground again – it is then that Jason sees why. A wild looking man with black hair and green eyes rushes towards them from the alleyway. He is cloaked in the black cloak of the Hutchens Academy over his heart – a dove carrying a stake, how colorful.

Jason shakes his head as his eyes finds Arthur’s guilty filled ones. Jason spins on his heels and without hesitation he runs into the forest that sits against their little town. He races in and the man quickly closes the space and is now right on his heel.

If Jason is truly a mago, which he is still not convinced that he is, he will be able to cross the barrier and leave the man behind him. He feels the man getting closer and closer on his heels. He races faster, his legs hurting and his lung burning. The man is maniacal! He is laughing! He is laughing at Jason’s fear!

Jason runs harder, the mud slipping under his bare feet, rocks cutting the bottom of his feet try to slow him down, but he is too scared to let the pain win him over. He doesn’t know where the barrier is – or if it is even close! He can’t stop to find out now – he has to keep going or else live as an example!

He doesn’t even want to know what that means! He thinks of his father. He thinks of his mother. He thinks of the words that Rebecca formerly used, beast. Jason is no beast. He runs harder; branches slapping his already aching face as he races up the slight slope of Greene Mountain. It is more of a hill than a mountain, but Mara has claim of the mountain since long ago and the humans lived with that.

Something shimmers and wavers before him, like plastic wrap that is being pulled. It nears Jason as he feels fear strike him as a small white light shines into his one good eye.

Jason trips and rolls to a sudden stop. He hits the ground as the plastic wrap wall passes over him. Jason turns around, sure he is about to get caught by the maniac, but as the man nears he stops and tries to move, but cannot take another step forward. He is a foot away from Jason, who crawls away with bloody feet, hands and face. The man beats against the barrier, with every punch a blue light ripples across every punch.

“The damn – the barrier was further in! Who the fuck moved it?!” he narrows his eyes on Jason and says, “I will get you, you little brat-!”

His voice is cut off as a bright light strikes him from the side and sends him rocketing into a tree. Jason’s head snaps to the side to see who had done whatever-that-was, but not even a shadow is left over.

Jason looks around – he is within the barrier. He is a mago. He swallows hard and stands slowly, but stumbles forward and hits the floor with the pain in his feet. He cringes and lets out a soft whine of pain before finally managing to stand and stumble through the trees. He flinches with every step he takes, but then he sees a warm orange light swaying side-to-side.

It gets closer and closer to him and it grows in size until a man holding a lantern tops before him. He is breathing hard and he examines Jason before looking at the barrier that is no longer being beaten on. “De barrier ‘az veen mooph’t.” He sees the blood on Jason and puts his hand against the boy’s forehead, “You need do rest-.”

Jason’s eyes turn back and everything around him rings. He sees the canopy of trees begin to spin above him as everything around him goes dark and the ringing ceasing.

He no longer feels any pain – he feels nothing, not even cold. He’s numb.

He hears the voice one last time, “I will always be near, Jysaine.”

His mind plays the thoughts over and over again. Arthur, his best friend, betrayed him. How could he do that? Was it fear of disappointing his mother? James and Celia always said Arthur fears that. They feared he would go lengths to prove to her his value.

Then his reoccurring dream begins, “Kallo. Kallo, my son.” he assures. “A talented Seer of our bloodline, Hersh, will completely destroy them. Their blasted beliefs will crumble. Their entire being will crash down. And whosoever takes upon their name, Yurelle, will fail. Kallo, Kallo, my son. He is going to tear the Yurelles down. Never forget that, my son.”

This is all I shall reveal of this project. Hope you enjoy it!!!

#my writing #fantasy

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laboratorium2d · 4 years ago

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The Canons of Trump

For obvious reasons, I have been following the news, and the news as refracted through social media, very closely since mid-spring. Unavoidably, this has meant that I have been subjected to a much higher than usual dose of Trump nonsense, and nonsense Trump takes. He says and does stupid and terrible things on a near-constant basis, which are then surrounded and amplified by a fog of overinterpretation. There is much less there there than meets the eye.

Over the last four painful years, I have developed some rules of thumb for making sense of Trump news. Most of them are designed to keep me from overthinking things. I offer them up in the spirit of helping us make it to November, and to help in the process of driving Trump and Trumpism from public life.

Trump Speaks Only to His Base

"MAGA loves the black people" is not meant to persuade African-Americans that they should be Trump supporters. It is meant to persuade Trump supporters that they are not racist. The optics of driving off peaceful protesters with tear gas are not bad, in his view, because his supporters want peaceful protesters driven off with tear gas. Suspend all your normal reactions as a citizen or as a human being; they are not a useful guide to how he and his base think. Corollary: when Trump talks about suburbs under siege, remind yourself that this is what people who don't live in suburbs think people who do are afraid of.

Dominance Politics

Josh Marshall: "[T]he entirety of Trump’s political message is dominance politics. ... Trump attacks, others comply and submit." David Auerbach: "[F]or him, the only acceptable outcome is the one where he wins and you get screwed. ... Trump always defects because he wants to maximize how much worse you do than him--not because he wants to maximize his own payoff." Trump always pushes the button.

The Cruelty Is the Point

Trump's policies are unnecessarily cruel, not by accident but intentionally. Tearing migrant children from their parents is his signature policy, precisely because it is so terrible. Trump's natural meanness is a perfect fit for supporters who want their government to violate human rights. (Source: Adam Serwer)

The Stupidity Is Also the Point

Most Americans are not idiots. But most Americans devote very little attention to politics. Nuking hurricanes and injecting bleach are astonishingly terrible ideas. But they sound plausible enough to someone who is barely listening. Trump is an idiot savant of political communication because his limited intelligence matches many people's limited attention. His inability to formulate complex thoughts comes across as authenticity.

Trump's Razor

Josh Marshall: "[T]he stupidest possible scenario that can be reconciled with the available facts" is probably correct. Too many examples to list, but nothing tops, "If we stopped testing right now, we’d have very few cases, if any." Trump doesn't believe that tests make him look bad by finding cases; he believes that tests make him look bad by causing cases.

Ten Minute Increments

Maggie Haberman: "He will say whatever he has to say to get through ten minute increments of time." Trump does not think ahead. There is no long-term plan when he speaks. He likes rallies where he can riff and ramble for as long as he likes. He likes friendly interviews. In any other situation, when he is being pressed for any reason, he will say anything that comes to mind that seems like it will make the immediate problem go away. His notorious word salad is one coping mechanism; so is making big but impossibly vague promises.

Trump Is a They, Not an It

Kenneth Shepsle's "Congress is a 'They,' Not an 'It'" argues that it is a category mistake to attribute intentions to a multi-member body. Legislators voting for a bill may not share the same purpose, or even the same understanding of what it does. Reader, I am here to tell you that the same thing is true of the shambling mess of rage, impulses, and distractions that is Donald Trump. A Trump tweet might reflect his own deliberations, but just as often is something he saw on Fox, or someone said to him on the phone, or something that Dan Scavino wrote.

From God to Fox to Trump

There is a close correlation between whatever is on Fox News and what Trump says and tweets, often in real time. If something seems like a non sequitur, look for a source upstream.

Trump is Chaff

Leon Wolf: "Donald Trump is the political equivalent of chaff, a billion shiny objects all floating through the sky at once, ephemeral, practically without substance, serving almost exclusively to distract from more important things – yet nonetheless completely impossible to ignore."

Low-Pass Filter

A low-pass filter blocks signals that change quickly, only significant long-term changes get through. This is the opposite of how the press and social media work. Social media amplify things that are already being shared widely right now, and journalists compete online by trying to be first. But most Trump tweets, quotes, and leaks are noise. It's okay to ignore the latest bit of chaff; anything important enough to pay serious attention to will be repeated, many many times.

Trump Doesn't Want to Be President, He Wants to Be King

Trump's vision of leadership isn't so much authoritarian as medieval. He wants people to bow down and praise his royal splendor, his brilliance, his feats of prowess. He doesn't have a cabinet or political allies; he has courtiers and nobles. He doesn't understand or care how bureaucracy works, even when he would be far more effective working through it. His daily routines are straight out of Hilary Mantel's portrait of Henry VIII.

Toddler in Chief

Daniel Drezner: "I'll believe that Trump is growing into the presidency when his staff stops talking about him like a toddler." Drezner (now in book form) gets at two points. First, Trump behaves like an ill-behaved small child: bad temper, poor impulse control, short attention span, demands for praise, constant need to be the center of attention. Second, his staff see their job as nannies.

The White House is a They, not an It

Jay Rosen: "There is no White House. Not in the sense that journalists have always used that term. It's just Trump— and people who work in the building. That they are reading from the same page cannot be assumed. The words, 'the White House' are still in use, but they have no clear referent." Other administrations worked hard to send a unified message. Not this one. Trump doesn't even tell his own staff clearly what his policies are, and he frequently changes his mind, so the presumption that a statement from a White House official--even from Trump himself--reflects official policy does not hold.

Working Toward Trump

Historian Ian Kershaw observed that (especially in contrast to the workaholic Stalin) Hitler was just about the last person you would expect to be able to lead a bureaucracy capable of waging a world war and carrying out the mass murder of six million. He was lazy, easily bored, and cultivated administrative chaos. Instead of waiting for clear and specific orders, his supporters "worked toward the Fuhrer": they tried to anticipate policies he would approve of. (More detail here.)

Dignity Wraiths

Josh Marshall: "Rosenstein’s public reputation, which was formidable, has been destroyed. He now joins a legion of Trump Dignity Wraiths, men and women (though mainly men) of once vaunted reputations or at least public prestige who have been reduced to mere husks of their former selves after crossing the Trump Dignity Loss Event Horizon." Corollary by Josh Barro: "[Trump] has stripped only the dignity from people who surrendered it willingly."

To the Cornfield

The Twilight Zone: "They have to think happy thoughts and say happy things because, once displeased, the monster can wish them into a cornfield or change them into a grotesque, walking horror." Trump takes every revenge he can on those who criticize or undercut him. His underlings live in fear of his displeasure, praise him elaborately in public, and generally abase themselves to avoid being sent to the political cornfield. As a result ...

The Republican Party is a Personality Cult

The phrase is Ezra Klein's, but William Saletan said it first: "Donald Trump is the GOP’s warlord. The Republican Party is officially a failed state." On the one hand, Trump is the GOP: Never Trumpers and Trump critics have been effectively sidelined and deligitimized as not real Republicans. On the other hand, the GOP is Trump: the official 2020 platform of the Republican Party is, in its entirety, "the President’s America-first agenda."

#politics

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gascon-en-exil · 7 years ago

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Mercilessly Judging the Men of Valentia: Alm’s Party

It was only a matter of time before I subjected the guys of FE15 to the kind of vacuous judgment that represents the very best of gay hookup apps. I’ve even shamelessly stolen borrowed an idea or two from a similar series of posts on Pokémon Sun and Moon NPCs to give these opinions a little more depraved flavor. With the cast of SoV as small as it is some expansion from my earlier one-sentence summations was in order anyway.

Celica’s Party

Still growing out of the baby face, but he left behind the wide-eyed innocent attitude some time ago. You’re not even sure why you’re bothering to talk to him, since his profile lists him as partnered and then elaborates that he’s in a monogamous long-distance relationship with someone he’s known for years. Yes, he is that boring, and he really is just looking for friends. If those friends get the chance to rub one out with him on his couch they should count themselves lucky, because he’s seriously packing. A good listener and a reliable friend, but you’ll always have the nagging thought that he’s wasting what is clearly a god’s gift to men on someone he almost never sees. He does have pictures, though: happy and loving and never, ever NSFW. About the best scenario you could hope for is to score an invite to his bachelor party.

Basically perfect boyfriend material - he’s quiet, dependable, and considerate, and though you’d never know it from his profile pic or initial offerings he’s built too. He’ll never make the first move however, and in fact has lost out on several dating opportunities on account of his reserve. He’s always the reliable one in his group of friends, which means he’ll be stuck playing designated driver and pretty much never getting laid because he’s too busy being someone else’s wing man/babysitter. On the flip side, he’ll end up getting invited to friend orgies fairly often, though it’s anyone guess if he finds that sort of thing fulfilling once everyone’s gotten off and passed out. Is estranged from his family, though he rarely talks about it. For anyone who does manage to go on a date with him and then get him in bed - which will probably take a few dates, because he hates to rush into things - he’d probably appreciate some direction. No matter what you’re into he’s eager to please and is skilled enough to satisfy in any role.

His profile pic is a classic headless torso, or maybe an arm flex pose. He’s got the consummate hard-drinking frat boy attitude to match, but thankfully he’s also got some good buddies to keep him from overdoing it. Is a terrible wing man though, since he’ll pick up his friends’ dates and then usually not even remember to invite them for a threeway. Somehow scores hookups with guys way out of his league despite being a sloppy flirt, which he attributes to his big...heart. Right. He’ll probably spend the rest of his life sponging off his friends and crashing on their couches - after they’ve kicked him out of their beds for jerking off to porn on his phone while they’re trying to sleep. If he’s lucky he’ll get a few circle jerks out of the deal first.

Pretty boy twunk who’s nevertheless down to earth for the most part; he has a steady job and feasible life goals and expects that his dates will too. You have to walk a fine line with him though, because what he really needs is for someone to prop up his ego. He’s very much a one-on-one guy in flirting and in bed because he hates feeling one-upped, and his more boisterous friends are pretty good for that - and not much else. A solid long-term investment overall however, much more so than the burnouts he inexplicably hangs out with (you only find out much later that they gave him his earliest sexual experiences, and he feels weirdly attached to them as a result). If memes are anything to go by he could benefit from being gagged, but per his portrait pose he also loves handling a big set of balls. Conclusion: gives the best head in Valentia.

His profile is simultaneously alluring and off-putting in its minimalism, and you have to wonder if it’s deliberate. He’s mostly looking for friends and new experiences sexual or otherwise, but any interested parties will have to put up with a lot of small talk and snark before he starts sending nudes or agreeing to meetings. Dreams of leaving his hometown far behind, and even if he’s unlikely to do so for a relationship he can work long distance better than most. Probably too aloof and capricious to be a stable boyfriend, but who knows where he’ll end up? Is into double penetration, though only after getting to know him will you find out whether he’d rather give it or get it...or how on earth he’d put up with a third party.

Charismatic and a natural-born leader, he’s guaranteed to be a face in the community which will definitely spill over into his app space. Unfortunately for his numerous admirers who’d love to get some time with him naked he’s a total sub and will only consider dating his match in strength, extroversion, and social class (He’s a snob about such things, though he tries very hard to act as though he isn’t because it would hinder his public work.) Has a humiliation fetish that no one knows about or would expect; no wonder he’s put off by fawning adoration. He’s also into spanking and pain play, but his threshold isn’t as high as he would like. In spite of the activism he’s a traditionalist at heart, which may come as a shock to his partner unless they’re adaptable enough to go along with it.

Extremely fastidious in everything he does, from his workout regime to his prep. His greatest fear is that his life will end up staid and dull, which is probably why he’s cruising for hookups at all. If he has a boyfriend, his profile states that they only play together - and shockingly enough he actually abides by that rule, because he’s nothing if not loyal. With his mixture of unbridled enthusiasm and practiced stamina he can excel in any role, though he can’t stand it when he’s the only one putting in effort (which tends to be the case somewhere around the third hour, even in the best scenarios). He astonishes and exhausts his partners with how short his refractory period is, especially given his loud and explosive orgasms. You have to wonder how many years he’s got left before the inevitable mid-coital heart attack, and hope that he finds someone who can teach him to be less high-strung. Indirectly encourages popper abuse in his partners.

Would be a fantastic vers if he weren’t so lazy and unmotivated. You’ll be lucky to get him to jerk himself off, much less top or ride a dick or anything. All the more frustrating too since “dating” him is really more like bar hopping with a happy ending, assuming you both don’t just pass out in drunken exhaustion at the end of the night. Can be surprisingly dedicated to a guy once he’s been around him long enough, but he’d never admit it and will never settle down into comfortable monogamy anyway. The easiest way to get him to do something is to tell him it’d piss off his family, because in that case he’d down as many shots as he (or whoever’s buying) can afford, snort a line off some guy’s abs, and do a striptease on top of the bar that ends with some part of his body inside someone else. At least it means getting to see his silly print underwear a little earlier than usual - sometimes he’s too bored to even undress at the orgies he himself plans. Likes being ordered around and will roleplay whatever you tell him to, but lacks the proper headspace to be a sub.

Has a strong selfie game for such an obvious and self-professed geek, but I hope you also don’t mind getting plenty of cat pics and endless complaints about how his relatives don’t understand him. Unquestionably a virgin, but a dedicated Dom could get him to do all manner of kinky stuff for the camera. However, he’ll never even make it to first base since the moment he meets a potential hookup in person he’ll either weird them out or piss them off. Hell, don’t even bother getting him on webcam. Writes incredibly detailed and kinky erotic stories, and is always up for an erotic RP session over chat.

On the run from some terrible memories of a relationship gone sour, but in exchange for the nagging feeling that you’ll always be a rebound you get a handsome, well-connected man with excellent dating taste and no small amount of skill in bed. He really knows his way around a lance, just saying. More vanilla than might be expected though, but since he’s still finding himself he’s pretty much a blank slate for experimentation. Is almost definitely into cuckoldry, for one, though good luck figuring out a scenario where he and everyone else is satisfied with the arrangement. Go with religious kink for a safer bet - the man loves a naughty priest.

The kind of silver daddy who’ll treat you right, but you’ll be competing for his attention with his pet(s) and/or adopted kid(s) because despite his inclinations he’s a family man at heart. Will push cocky assholes to their limit (literally) in bed but will be every bit as gentle with inexperience if you’re affectionate enough. He seems like the perfect catch until you’ve known him for a while and realized he’s made some extremely questionable life choices. Hidden away in the recesses of one of his drawers (but not the underwear one - too sleazy) are faded and worn pictures of him and another guy at a much earlier time of life, carefree and in love and possibly naked.

#Fire Emblem #FE15 #Shadows of Valentia #Joke post

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cruznzbo488-blog · 5 years ago

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milotuyk876-blog · 5 years ago

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